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wowbright · 3 days ago

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Chapter 21: Picture, Again

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

~~~

Blaine was warming up on the ice. He looked even more stunning as he moved than Kurt had anticipated, the costume highlighting the strength of his thighs, its blue bringing out the glossy blackness of Blaine's hair, the flared openings of the sleeves and ankles fluttering like wings as Blaine flew over the ice.

Sue was standing next to Kurt, scowling. Her hands gripped the railing. “I thought we were on the same page, Porcelain,” she said without looking at Kurt, her eyes fixed on Blaine.

“I know you usually prefer a more fitted sleeve, but I think—”

“I’m not talking about the costume. Your eye for design is flawless, as usual.” It didn't sound like a compliment. Sue’s tone was bitter. “But your behavior isn’t. You've gone against our agreement. You told me you'd keep your distance, and then the two of you come waltzing in this afternoon like Torvill and Dean.”

“I didn’t say I’d keep my distance. I said I wouldn't be a problem. And I won't.”

“Ha! You're getting him all hot and bothered for you, when what I need him to be hot and bothered for is winning. Cool off.”

“Maybe cooling off isn't what Blaine needs.” Kurt meant it factually, logically—a simple expression that people need different things at different times, and sometimes what they need is not what you expect. But the phrase cooling off triggered the thought of heating up, and then the sensation of Blaine’s chest against the back of his thighs, warmth radiating off his skin and into Kurt’s muscles, and the flames of desire spreading from Kurt’s center through his body, leaping from his fingers and toes back into Blaine, flickering up Blaine’s torso and neck and into his face, his eyes clenching with the heat of his orgasm, his muscles stiff, his mouth hanging open from an ecstasy so brilliant it was almost too much to bear, and again that same face this morning, impossibly intense and as clear as a picture, Kurt clinging to Blaine’s hips as he drove into him as deep as their bodies would allow, driven to madness by Blaine’s cries of yes yes I need you, I need your cock, give it to me Kurt, love me with your gorgeous gorgeous cock, oh yes oh yes love me, love me Kurt, love me with your big cock, I love your cock, I love, I love, I love—

“You played with his poodle, didn't you?” Sue wasn't watching Blaine anymore. She was glaring at Kurt, shooting arrows from her eyes.

They bounced off him like raindrops. “I don't know what you mean,” Kurt lied. He was starting to get the hang of Sue’s strange way of speaking. But he refused to acknowledge what was none of her business. “Blaine doesn’t have any pets. He travels too much.” Kurt turned back toward the rink, toward Blaine. “Speaking of distractions, shouldn't you be paying attention to him? He's about to start.”

Blaine was standing in the center of the ice now, the other skaters cleared from the rink. His head was bowed. His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. He looked up and his eyes met Kurt’s. It was only for a brief moment, but Kurt felt a new kind of energy crackling between them. It wasn’t sexual—or if sex was part of it, it wasn't at the forefront. It was a new flavor of connection, an exchange of pride and hope and joy.

“You're distracting him again, Porcelain.”

Kurt didn't let the smile drop from his face. “Your harassing me is going to distract him. Stop scowling and give him a thumbs up.”

To Kurt’s surprise, she did exactly that as the music started up.

Blaine was beautiful. Of course he was. And it wasn't just Kurt’s hormones talking. It was objectively true. Kurt could see it in the faces of the skaters and coaches on the other side of the rink. He could hear it in the way Sue was breathing. Kurt had seen this routine before, but he'd never seen this level of passion in it. It looked effortless, almost as if it wasn't Blaine moving across the ice and through the air, but like they were the ones carrying him along: a bird catching the updraft.

“Goddammit,” Sue muttered under her breath when the music stopped and Blaine stood triumphantly at the center of the ice, beaming at the two of them. “That might be the best I've ever seen him.”

Kurt hooted and hollered and clapped as Blaine skated toward them. As soon as his blade covers were on, Blaine kissed Sue on the cheek and tackled Kurt, hugging him so tightly he almost lifted him off the ground.

Kurt watched as Blaine sat down to take his skates off and Sue hovered over him. They were murmuring back and forth in that secret way coaches and athletes have with each other. Kurt watched Blaine’s face for signs of conflict, but he just kept nodding and smiling—genuinely, his eyes alight—and Sue was smiling too.

~~~

The whispering continued as Kurt accompanied Blaine to the locker room. Kurt wondered if Sue was planning to follow Blaine in, like she often had back at the Olympic Training Center. Kurt wouldn’t love that; with Blaine’s meetings this afternoon and the opening ceremonies tonight, this was Kurt’s last chance to be alone with him today. Still, Kurt wasn't going to protest. Blaine was here to win medals, not to be on a honeymoon with Kurt.

Sue slapped Blaine’s back with a parting finality as they approached the locker room. “Remember, we meet in less than an hour with the rest of the team to go over strategy. Be there early.”

Blaine nodded. “Of course, coach.”

“And Porcelain—” She caught Kurt’s elbow. “—I need to talk to you for a sec.”

“Can it wait? I need to help Blaine with the costume.”

“It’ll only be a minute.”

Kurt looked at Blaine for rescue, but Blaine only nodded—reassuringly, but still—before disappearing into the locker room.

“Sue, I don’t want to fight over—”

“Shh, Porcelain.” She pressed her index finger to Kurt's lips. Wow. This woman knew no boundaries. “I've spent the last two years giving Blaine my blood, sweat, and tears, trying to get him back to performing the way he did today. Jean—my sister—she kept telling me that maybe it was Blaine’s time to retire, that his body was done and could only go downhill. But I knew she was wrong. The problem wasn't physical. It was in his head. I did everything I could to put the fire back in him. You couldn’t expect me to just stand by and watch you ruin the tiny bit of progress we’ve made—”

“But I haven’t. You said yourself—”

“Shut up. I’m not done. Every man Blaine has dated, I have hated down to my core. Well, except for the one that tragically turned out to be straight. He was willing to put up with the kind of sacrifices an exceptionally talented person needs to make in order to succeed. He understood that, ultimately, there was only one person who could define Blaine’s purpose in the world.”

Kurt nodded in understanding. “Blaine himself.”

“No. Me. Sue Sylvester. That’s what made the others such losers. They didn't get that Blaine was put on this earth to obliterate the competition. And they made Blaine forget it, too. So you'll understand if I wasn’t happy with your blossoming romance. I'm used to him falling for guys who care more about what they want out of Blaine than what he was born to do. Who suck the life and creativity out of him. But you’re not like the others. If you were, he wouldn't have skated the way he did today. You, Porcelain, are not a leech.” Her voice was never gentle, but on this last sentence, it became more gentle than Kurt had ever imagined it could be. She set her hand on Kurt’s shoulder the same way she did when congratulating Blaine on a good job.

“I don't know how you did it,” she continued. “Whether it was your costumes or your ethereal good looks or biting charm or your penis. But whatever it was, you reminded Blaine of who he is. His fire is back. I envy your power.”

“It wasn’t my—” No. Kurt was not going to legitimize her mentioning his penis by repeating the word. “Those feelings have always been inside of him. I didn't create that.”

“Of course you didn't. I did. But he’d buried them deep enough that I couldn't pull them to the surface anymore.”

Obviously, Sue was deluded in thinking she’d created Blaine’s sense of self. But in terms of his skating, she had done something just as important. “You’re the one who’s kept him going all these years, Sue. You pushed him to get better even when he didn’t care. He told me. And there's no way I could do that. If he looked at me with those sad puppy dog eyes and told me he didn't feel like doing something, I’d surrender in a split second.”

Sue shook her head. “That much is apparent. Even my threatening you with a kitty cat failed to fortify you against the power of those amber orbs. Good thing I'm immune to emotion.”

“I still don't understand how the kitty cat thing is a threat.”

Sue looked Kurt up and down, her eyebrows scrunching together as if she were trying to assess his sincerity. “Really? You don't seem like someone who would be that slow on the uptake.”

“Really.”

She leaned in and lowered her voice, as if sharing a powerful secret that could be misused in the wrong hands. “Porcelain, you're obviously someone who likes to be in control. But you can't be in control with a kitty cat. The kitty cat controls you.”

~~~

“What did Sue want to talk to you about?” Blaine asked when Kurt found him in a secluded corner of the locker room, the closest human off in the showers singing “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid in a language that sounded like German, still far away enough that Kurt only caught half the tune. Blaine turned so Kurt could unfasten the zipper hidden in a back seam.

“You don't know?”

“Not really. I mean, I figured she wasn't going to eat you alive, or I wouldn't have left you out there alone. But she didn't tell me what she was going to say.”

“She didn't eat me alive. I think she gave us her blessing?”

Blaine’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Well, she said I'm not a leech, and I haven’t gotten in your way. Those are compliments coming from her, right?”

“Glowing ones.”

“And she seems to think I’ve helped you get your fire back.”

“You have.” Blaine’s voice was soft and full of conviction. He blinked, his mascara-heavy eyelashes fluttering pleasantly as he peeled off the top of the suit, revealing his broad shoulders and the various bundles of back muscles that were merely an undifferentiated mass in most people. “In more ways than one.”

Kurt wanted to plant a line of kisses from Blaine’s eyelids to his neck and across that beautiful back. But this wasn't the place for it. Instead, he held a sleeve in place so Blaine could wriggle his elbow free. “I can't take that credit. I'm glad to be of service, of course, but the talent and the vision and the work you've put in—that's all you, Blaine.”

Blaine met Kurt’s eyes. His own were filled with steady conviction. “Maybe both things are true. Maybe it all comes from inside of me, and maybe knowing you helps me express it. Maybe the sum of us is greater than its parts.”

Kurt's heart swooped. Seriously. How had Blaine ever thought he was bad at romance?

Kurt's body buzzed with it, urging him to curl his hands around Blaine’s jaw and press him against the locker with his kisses, convey them both back to the deep intimacy they had known in his hotel room.

Instead, Kurt sank to his knees to begin gently peeling the costume further away, uncovering the tops of Blaine’s statuesque buttocks. It didn't lessen his desire, but it gave him something else to do with his hands.

“She said something to me, too,” Blaine said. “She likes you.”

Kurt scoffed. “I think that's going a bit far.”

“No, really. I mean, those weren't the words she used, of course, because she's Sue. But she does.”

“What exactly did she say?” Kurt wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but he needed something to distract him from the incredible muscularity of Blaine’s glutes and thighs and the memory they evoked of their intimacy this morning, when those muscles squeezed around Kurt as Blaine rode him, murmuring praise to Kurt and his cock, wringing unimaginable pleasure from both their bodies.

“Um … I'm not sure me repeating the words would be helpful. A lot of what Sue says gets lost in translation.”

“You realize that saying that only makes me want to know even more.”

“Okay, but—” Blaine rested his hand on Kurt’s shoulder for balance as he stepped out of the costume, leaving him a naked Adonis except for the dance belt covering his genitals and splitting his buttocks into two perfectly risen buns. “—it's going to sound crass. But for Sue, it's a ringing endorsement.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“Fine.” Blaine grabbed a towel and modestly wrapped it around his waist before removing his dance belt, a courtesy that felt simultaneously merciful and cruel to Kurt. “She said she knew we were ‘making the beast with two backs’ but she wouldn't hold it against us if I kept performing like that.”

“Wow. Ringing.”

“It's a lot better than what she said back in Colorado Springs.”

“And what was that?”

“Nothing bad about you. Just more ridiculous. She was worried about us getting together before the Olympics because your testosterone might show up on my doping tests and get me in trouble.” Blaine giggled and rolled his eyes. Kurt was used to people who rolled their eyes having disgusted expressions on their face, or at least disapproving ones. But Blaine’s expression looked almost fond.

“What? That doesn't make sense.”

“Nope. But apparently she thinks semen is an illicit testosterone-containing substance and the testosterone somehow enters the bloodstream?”

Kurt burst out laughing. “Ah! So that's the real reason the Olympic Committee hands out condoms.”

“Apparently. I honestly think that was her main concern about us. Well, that and she thought you were the reason I forgot about that meeting on your last day there, even though I explained to her it was the stress of …” Blaine hesitated. “Of all the media interviews that day. Otherwise, I think she’s liked you from the start. You're the only guy I’ve dated she’s called handsome, unless you count Jesse. And all her nicknames for you are based on her favorite fictional characters and celebrity crushes.”

“Which one of those is the Pillsbury Doughboy?”

Blaine shrugged. He looked so comfortable, standing there in nothing but his skin and a tiny towel and sweat-damp swirls of dark hair across his chest and trailing down his limbs while Kurt was covered neck to toe in textiles. “Not sure, but she and her sister have been collecting the figurines since they were little. They have a case full of Pillsbury Doughboy collectibles in their house right next to the trophy case.”

“That … is not something I would have guessed.” Kurt looked down at the costume, paying attention to the way he was folding it as much to distract himself from Blaine’s gorgeous body as to protect the fabric from damage.

“She's often mentioned his stunning blue eyes. Maybe that's why you remind her of him.”

“And here I thought it was because I was pasty.”

“You're not pasty. You’re …” Blaine traced a finger along Kurt’s jaw, coaxing Kurt to look away from the costume and into Blaine’s beautiful brown eyes. “Alabaster and coral.”

“You're not allowed to flatter me when you’re naked except for a towel around your waist and there’s nothing I can do about it because we’re in a semi-public locker room.”

“I wish we weren’t, though. I could go for an encore of this morning. I’m going to miss you so much tonight.”

Kurt glanced over his shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to Blaine’s lips. “When the competition is over, we can shut ourselves in a hotel room for a week and do nothing but that.”

Blaine smiled. “Sounds better than a gold.”

~~~

Kurt loved a spectacle, so the opening ceremonies were right up his alley: floating landscapes, a flying girl, a choir of hundreds of singers in traditional garb ascending from the clouds. Kurt tucked his opera glasses back into his coat pocket and snatched the binoculars from Sebastian’s lap. He needed something more powerful to pick out the details of the singers’ costumes. Each was made of white fabric with gold trim, but every single one was different—different hats and headgear, different cuts and lengths, some with bibs or aprons and others without, each decorated in elaborate patterns sewn by hand. The costume budget must have been massive.

Kurt would have been enjoying himself even more if Blaine were there, explaining what the heck the floating armada and flying volcano had been about. Kurt knew little about Russian history beyond what he’d learned when costuming for Chekhov’s Three Sisters and studying Soviet realism in design school. For each cultural reference that confused him, he knew there were dozens more he wasn't even noticing.

“Do you understand any of this?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian looked up from his phone. He had been glued to it since before the start of the ceremony. That was the life of a manager, Kurt supposed—always on the phone, texting and sending emails, arranging appearances and interviews and lunches and who knew what else. It was getting close to midnight in Sochi, but it was still prime working hours in the United States.

“The Russian landmass is fifty percent permafrost,” Sebastian said. “I think that's what the snow is about.”

“Very helpful,” Kurt said.

When Putin got up to speak, Kurt took the opportunity to check his vibrating cell phone. It was Blaine, who was waiting somewhere in the wings of the stadium and apparently had no interest in paying attention to Putin either. I can't wait until you see our uniforms. They will astonish you.

In a good way or a bad way?

You’ll find out!

Blaine was right. The outfits did astonish Kurt—with their hideousness. Ralph Lauren had been going down the tubes for a while, but this was abominable: saggy white athletic pants; a sweater covered with so many letters, numbers, flags, and logos it looked like a race car; and knit caps whose only saving grace was their size prevented the same excess of symbols that plagued the sweaters.

“Are you going to give me back my binoculars?” asked Sebastian.

“Nope. I’m trying to find my boyfriend,” Kurt said, not lowering the binoculars from his face as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the opera glasses and hand them to Sebastian. “You snooze, you lose.”

“I'm not sure why I thought Blaine’s influence would turn you into a nicer person.”

“It hasn't turned you into a nicer person, has it?”

“No. But I'm not sleeping with him.”

“Oh! There he is! Next to the giant!”

Blaine was cute as ever despite the abominable uniform, waving out to the crowd with a huge smile on his face as he walked between an equally bubbly Sam to his right and, to his left, Mike Chang with a ponytailed Kitty Wilde on his shoulders. She was holding her smartphone up to record the crowd, panning up and down the rows of seats, when she suddenly stopped, lowered her phone, and waved vigorously at Kurt and Sebastian before leaning over to pat the top of Blaine’s head and point him in their direction. He found them and his smile got even wider. He balanced on his toes and waved energetically.

“There's something wrong with these opera glasses. It looks like Blaine is having some sort of fit.”

“He's waving, dumbass.”

“And now he's blowing kisses! Let’s hope Putin doesn't arrest him for that.”

“Seriously, Sebastian. Do you have to ruin everything?”

“Yeah, sorry, that was … not funny. I only said it because I don't think there's any risk of him getting arrested for that. Does that make it any better?”

Kurt ignored Sebastian and watched Blaine turn the corner of the track. Blaine's back was to him now, but Kurt could catch the side of his face when he turned to the side with more waving and kiss-blowing.

“Ooh, Kurt,” Sebastian hissed dramatically. “You might want to look away. He’s blowing kisses to Billie Jean King now. Do you think he’s turned straight? Ow, the betrayal.”

“Oh no, a figure skater blowing kisses to members of the general public,” Kurt deadpanned. “Totally slutty and out of character. I'm devastated.”

Sebastian chuckled. But when Kurt turned to look at him, he saw that Sebastian was not laughing over what Kurt had said. He was looking at his phone again, grinning like the Cheshire cat as he thumbed a message into the screen.

~~~

Sebastian's texting went on through the entire opening ceremonies. Kurt loved his phone as much as the next person, but he was at least trying to enjoy the show. Besides, it wasn't like he could be constantly texting Blaine. It would look bad if, every time a rogue television camera landed on the section of the stadium holding the members of Team USA, Blaine was staring at his phone screen like a bored teenager. Meanwhile, Sebastian was thumbing something into his phone every five minutes. There was no way it was all work, because at least half the time, it was accompanied by the kind of giggling Kurt associated with chatting about celebrity crushes with Rachel and Mercedes in high school.

“I don't understand why you wanted to go to the opening ceremonies at all if you're going to spend the whole time on your phone,” Kurt said on the way back to their hotel. It was a rental car, and Sebastian was driving.

“I wasn't planning to be on my phone the whole time. It just … happened.”

“Work emergency?” Kurt knew that wasn't the answer, but sometimes guessing the wrong thing was the best way to get Sebastian to tell you the truth. Wrong impressions were like pebbles in Sebastian’s shoes. He had to get rid of them or they would drive him crazy.

“No.” Sebastian chewed on his bottom lip. “I … Okay, if I tell you, you have to promise not to be super gay about it. Because I'm driving, and that would be distracting.”

“What do you mean by ‘super gay’?”

“You know. Dramatic. Shrieking like a little girl.”

“Oh, Sebastian. Do we have to have another talk about internalized homophobia?”

“Just promise, okay?”

“I promise not to shriek like a little girl. I don't promise to not be super gay though.”

“Whatever. I … I met someone.”

Kurt inhaled sharply. He kind of wanted to shriek, or at least yell What? extremely loudly. But he had made a promise. “When? Wasn't it like, a week or two ago when you were crying in my hotel room about—”

“I thought we agreed to never mention that again.”

“You said not to mention it to other people, not you.”

“Fine. And yes, since then. Yesterday, to be exact. Or maybe this morning, if you want to be technical about it?”

“You met him last night and you already want to have kids with him?”

“I didn't say that! I just said ... I met someone. Who is interesting and that I actually like to talk to even when we're done fucking. I mean, usually after I have sex with someone I'm through with them, at least until the next time I want to have sex—”

“And you wonder why I never slept with you.”

“—but this guy … I wasn’t hurrying to leave the room. And it wasn’t just because you and Blaine were doing God knows what in our suite. It was … I don't know how to describe it. Like, the noise that's usually crowding my head was gone. I wasn't thinking about work or the things I would need to do today or going through a point-by-point postgame breakdown to compare him to my previous fucks or glean learning points for my arsenal of future sex strategies.”

“Were you high?”

“No! I wasn't high! I don't do drugs when I'm traveling in authoritarian states.”

“Just thought I'd check.”

“And he kept looking at my face, and I admit, I do have a great looking face, but usually it's weird to look at each other's faces too much when you're having sex—”

“It is?”

“—but it didn’t feel weird. Which was weird in itself. It was weird and it should have been a total turn off—”

“Really?”

“—but it just felt ... what's the word?”

“Good?”

“Something like that. So I … I stayed. And I fell asleep. And when I woke up he asked if I wanted to have breakfast, and I … I said yes. I've never said yes to breakfast. And I went back to our suite to change, which gave me the perfect opportunity to stand him up, but did I stand him up? No. Because I … I wanted to talk to him. How crazy is that?”

“For you? It sounds pretty crazy.” Since Kurt had met Sebastian half a lifetime ago, he had come to rely on the fact that, no matter how many months or years passed between them seeing each other, Sebastian never changed. Now, suddenly, Sebastian was changing. Kurt wasn't sure what to do with that. “So, are you going to tell me anything about this guy? What makes him so magical?”

“No. I don't want to curse it. Not that there's much to curse. I mean, I've known him for less than twenty-four hours. And he lives on this side of the pond. I'll be lucky if this lasts the full two weeks of the games.”

“Still, that's new for you, wanting something to last even that long. You're a different man than the one I thought you were, Sebastian Smythe.”

“That goes for both of us.”

#december klaine fanworks challenge 2024 #day 16: picture #wowbright writes fic #Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU #klaine fanfiction

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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Helloo.....it's me....

Can I request the poly!volturi kings x reader that does figureskating? And maybe she falls? How would they react?

Love ya byeee❤️❤️❤️

I love that you keep coming back lol, well here goes nothing!

↱ im not easily impressed but when I am then im impressed ↰

➘ summary : the volturi kings knew their mate was good at figureskating, but this good?! Damn aren’t they lucky

➘ the volturi x reader ; twilight x reader ; aro x reader x marcus x caius

Beneath the veil of night, the Volturi gardens were alive with a tranquility that contrasted with the kings' formidable reputation. Amongst the flora and moonlight, (Y/N) found herself in the company of Aro, Caius, and Marcus, the very embodiment of immortal power and allure.

Seated on an elegant stone bench, (Y/N) felt a contented sigh escape her lips as she gazed up at the stars. The bonds she shared with the Volturi kings were unlike any other, a symphony of emotions that surged through her immortal veins. And it was in these serene moments that she felt most alive, even though the world around her had ceased its heartbeat.

With a tender smile gracing her lips, (Y/N) turned her gaze toward her mates. "You know," she began, her voice soft like the rustling leaves, "before I became a vampire, I was a figure skater."

Her words, gentle as they were, caught the attention of the kings. Aro's inquisitive eyes locked onto her, Caius tilted his head ever so slightly, and Marcus, always the quiet observer, seemed to focus a fraction more on her words.

"You were a figure skater?" Aro mused, his lips curling into an intrigued smile. "How delightful! Please, do share your stories with us."

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia. The memories of her human life as a figure skater were vivid, etched into her consciousness like a beautifully choreographed routine. "I spent hours gliding across the ice," she began, her voice carrying the cadence of a storyteller. "The rink was my sanctuary, and the ice felt like an extension of my being."

Caius leaned forward, his crimson eyes fixed on her with newfound interest. "Tell us more," he urged, his tone softer than usual.

As she recounted her stories, (Y/N) painted pictures with her words. She described the early morning frost that embraced the rink, the way the sunlight danced off the ice, and the sheer joy of pushing herself to perfect each spin and jump. She spoke of the ethereal connection she felt with the music, how it dictated her movements and evoked emotions she couldn't express otherwise.

Marcus, his eyes a storm of emotions, seemed to be captivated by her tales. For a man accustomed to the burden of centuries, her stories were a refreshing gust of wind that swept away the cobwebs of his thoughts.

Aro, true to his nature, interjected with curiosity. "Were there any particular moments that stood out to you?"

(Y/N) nodded, a fond smile gracing her lips. "There was one performance in particular. It was during a competition, and everything aligned perfectly. The music, the routine, and my movements—it was as if I had become one with the ice. I'll never forget the exhilaration of that moment."

Her mates listened intently, hanging onto her every word. They were drawn into the magic of her stories, experiencing the echoes of her past as if they were their own memories.

And as the night wore on, (Y/N) continued to share her experiences, laughter and wonder intertwining with the night breeze. With each tale, the bond between them deepened, as if the stories themselves were threads stitching their souls together.

Underneath the stars, the Volturi kings and their enchanting mate were no longer just rulers of the night. They were a constellation of beings, connected by the tapestry of past and present, each thread woven into the fabric of their eternity.

Several years had passed since the tumultuous days of (Y/N)'s transformation. The frenzied hunger of the newborn vampire had given way to control, her movements fluid and measured, her presence a serene echo in the hallowed halls of the Volturi castle. The bond between (Y/N) and the Volturi kings had deepened into an unbreakable connection, an intricately woven tapestry of love and shared experiences.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the castle grounds, (Y/N) found herself wandering through the gardens. She often sought solace in these quiet moments, allowing her thoughts to drift like petals on the breeze.

As if guided by an unseen force, her steps led her to the edge of the ornate fountain where Aro often meditated. His presence was a calming one, and she found herself drawn to him, the years etching lines of wisdom on his immortal visage.

"(Y/N)," Aro's melodious voice greeted her as he sensed her approach. He looked up from his contemplation, his dark eyes fixing on her with curiosity. "What thoughts occupy your mind today?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the water's surface. "I've been considering something," she began, her voice a soft melody in the twilight. "I've regained a measure of control over my thirst and instincts. And I've been thinking about something I used to love in my human life."

Aro's expression held a mixture of intrigue and encouragement. "Pray, do share."

With a steadying breath, (Y/N) spoke of her past as a figure skater, her words a gentle current in the conversation. She explained her desire to rekindle that passion, to once again glide on the ice, to feel the rush of the wind against her skin as she twirled and spun. And most of all, to share that part of her existence with the world.

"It's a competition, a figure skating contest," she added. "I believe I can blend in with humans, showcase my skills, and perhaps even win."

Caius, who had approached silently, folded his arms as he listened. "And you believe you can maintain control?" he inquired, his voice a deep rumble.

"I've practiced restraint for years now," (Y/N) replied with unwavering conviction. "I'm certain I can handle it."

Marcus, leaning against a nearby column, gazed at her with a quiet intensity. "Do you yearn for this, (Y/N)? Does your heart burn with the desire to step onto the ice once more?"

Her gaze met his, a shimmering pool of determination. "Yes," she said, her voice soft but resolute. "More than anything."

Aro's lips curled into a fond smile. "Then you have our support, dear (Y/N)."

Caius nodded in agreement. "If your heart drives you toward this, then you should pursue it."

Their words were a chorus of encouragement, a testament to the depth of their connection. As the sun dipped below the horizon, (Y/N) felt a surge of gratitude and determination. The Volturi kings, whose lives spanned centuries, understood the value of seizing the moment, even in their immortal existence.

"Thank you," (Y/N) said, her voice filled with sincerity. "Having your support means the world to me."

Underneath the fading light, in the heart of the Volturi's domain, a pact was forged. The echoes of past lives mingled with the present, and (Y/N) knew that her decision to chase her dreams would forever be intertwined with the love she shared with the kings who had stolen her heart.

The day of the figure skating contest dawned bright and crisp. The arena buzzed with excitement as the crowd settled into their seats, waiting for the event to begin. Backstage, (Y/N) stood amidst the hubbub, her heart a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy. Dressed in a shimmering costume that caught the light like a cascade of stars, she took a steadying breath.

The announcer's voice cut through the chatter, amplified by the speakers, "Is that (Y/N) (L/N) I spot in the crowd?"

Time seemed to freeze as all eyes turned towards her. The spotlight found her, bathing her in a gentle glow. Her heart raced, and a mix of emotions swirled within her: a touch of vulnerability, a hint of excitement, and a surge of determination.

"Holy shit, it is her!" The announcer's voice rang out, carrying the astonishment of the moment. "She's been missing from the spotlight for eight years now, but it seems our world-renowned star is back. This year's competition just got all that more interesting."

(Y/N)'s eyes met the spotlight, her resolve hardening. This was her moment, a chance to embrace her past and let her vampiric grace shine. As the music swelled, she stepped onto the ice, her skates gliding with an elegance that was both mesmerizing and supernatural.

With every twist and turn, (Y/N) moved with an otherworldly grace. Her body flowed like water, each movement executed with a precision that defied the bounds of human capability. As she twirled and spun, the audience held its breath, captivated by the ethereal performance unfolding before them.

And then, in a breathtaking moment, (Y/N) tapped into her vampire abilities. She spun faster, her form blurring as if time itself had lost its grip. Her body contorted with impossible flexibility, and she transitioned into moves that seemed to defy the very laws of physics. Gasps of awe and wonder echoed through the arena, mingling with the soft strains of the music.

Among the audience, (Y/N)'s mates, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, stood hidden amidst the crowd. Their eyes were locked onto her, their pride and love evident in the unspoken connection they shared. As she moved with a combination of elegance and supernatural skill, their hearts swelled with a mixture of emotions.

As the final notes of the music faded into silence, (Y/N) came to a graceful stop, her arms outstretched. The arena erupted in a thunderous ovation, the applause echoing off the walls in a symphony of admiration.

Backstage, her heart soared. She had poured her heart and soul into this performance, and the audience's reaction was a testament to the connection she had forged with them. The judges, too, rose to their feet, their expressions a mix of awe and appreciation.

When the results were announced, the tension was palpable. And then, with bated breath, the announcer declared, "First place goes to (Y/N) (L/N)!"

A tidal wave of cheers erupted as (Y/N) stood on the podium, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. The victory was sweet, but it was more than just winning a competition. It was a triumph over adversity, a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit and the infinite possibilities of an immortal existence.

As the cheers washed over her, (Y/N) felt a warmth deep within her soul. She had reclaimed her place in the spotlight, not as a mere figure skater, but as an embodiment of her journey, her past, and her future. And as her mates emerged from the crowd to congratulate her, their eyes shining with pride, she knew that this moment would forever be etched into their shared history.

(Y/N) had instantly thrown thrown herself back into practicing figure skating with an intensity that matched the fire that had driven her throughout her life. Her graceful movements and daring spins had only grown more intricate and breathtaking with time. Her mates, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, watched with pride as she embraced this passion with the same fervor she had approached her immortal life.

One morning, the sun painted the sky in shades of rose and gold, (Y/N) found herself on the rink, the cool air kissing her skin as she spun with unparalleled grace. Lost in the rhythm of her movements, she didn't notice the small figure that darted onto the ice, their footsteps barely audible against the smooth surface.

"Mommy!” the child's voice rang out, filled with a mix of excitement and joy. With eyes wide and filled with wonder, they watched as their mother spun, one foot outstretched in a daring maneuver.

Startled by the voice, (Y/N) quickly stopped her spin, the momentum causing her to lose her balance. With a gasp, she stumbled, and her ankle twisted in an awkward angle. Pain shot through her leg, and she crumpled to the ice with a cry of discomfort.

Before she could even process what had happened, her mates were there, their presence swift and unwavering. Aro and Caius carefully lifted her, while Marcus scooped up their child, whose eyes were wide with concern.

"Mommy, are you okay?" the child asked, their voice trembling.

(Y/N) managed a reassuring smile through the pain. "I'm going to be alright, sweetheart," she replied, her voice gentle and soothing.

Marcus knelt down, his calm presence radiating comfort. "Your mommy is strong, little one. She'll heal in no time."

Aro's gaze was filled with worry, but he masked it with a gentle smile. "Let's get her inside and tend to her injuries."

Caius, always the pragmatic one, nodded in agreement. "We'll have you up and moving again soon."

With the utmost care, they carried (Y/N) back to the castle, her child walking alongside them, their small hand gripping Marcus's fingers tightly. As they settled (Y/N) on a comfortable couch, her ankle already swelling, she offered her child a reassuring smile.

"You know what, sweetheart?" she said softly. "Mommy's different from others, and that means I heal quickly. I'll be back on my feet before you know it."

“Like a superhero?!” asked her child.

“Just like a superhero.” She replied.

Hours passed, and true to her words, (Y/N)'s ankle mended at an astonishing rate. Her mates took turns hovering around her, fussing over her well-being. And just as she had promised, she was soon back on her feet, albeit gingerly.

The child watched with wide eyes, their amazement evident. "Mommy, you really healed so fast!"

(Y/N) chuckled, pulling them into a warm embrace. "Yes, darling, that's the magic of being a superhero.”

“Well I wanna be just like you when I’m grown up mommy!”

As the day drew to a close, (Y/N) found herself surrounded by her loving family, her mates and their adopted child. The incident served as a reminder that even in the midst of the extraordinary, they were bound by love and the simple joys of life. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold once more, (Y/N) held her family close, grateful for the journey that had led her to this moment of shared happiness.

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richardsphere · 8 days ago

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so im about 60 episodes into Ranma 1/2. Im gonna say, I struggle to grasp what it is that has kept me locked in. So here a post of me trying to figure it out...

A lot of the jokes just dont land for me. (i dont think "X is mistaken for perv" or "X is a perv" are funny jokes, and thats feels like its a good... 70-80% of the humour) And for an IP that's all about the Shipping.... well... The ships... all suck, i dont ship anything but "Ranma X therapy" and "Happosai X A Grizzly Death". I came in expecting Rankane to be one of those "slow-burn" where you'll eventually grow to see them like eachother even if you dont ship it at the start... but im 60 episodes in and they despise eachother nine-times out of ten. Shampoo had a brief moment where i thought her and Ranma were gonna bond over their alienation from society, from their respective reclusive upbringings. But like... nothing ever comes of them. Shampoo never gets to be more then "The Clingy Murder-Happy One". Ranma and Ukyo are... well the problem there is that Ukyo is in a total of 4-5 episodes (so far), and only matters in 3 of those. Her and Ranma at least like eachother as people though so... thats good, best ship by default. But "the one he likes as a person" means her very presence kind of... invalidates the premise of the show. Also Ranma is the only Kung-Fu Protagonist i've ever seen who... doesnt want to be a martial artist? Like he's proud of his skills and definitly has rare moments where he gets invested emotionally in a fight, but... even said pride reads very "my parents made me play Piano for 5 hours a day all my childhood, and told me my value as a person is inherently tied to this instrument, so i'm proud of my skills as a pianist because of a combination of Self Esteem issues and because of a sunk-cost fallacy where if I dont continue down this life I'll have invalidated my entire previous existence leading up to this moment". The show feels like Ranma isnt into martial arts, his family is into martial arts and Ranma just wants to earn a right to exist in their eyes. (and much like Heinz' mothers love was inextricably linked to Kickball, Genma's love is inextricably linked to Punching) in short: I hope the finale ends with Ranma feigning their death and running away to do something else, get a hobby... Maybe open an icecream parlor, they seems like they'd be into that. Anyway that tangent (and the rapidly emerging "icecream parlor AU"-fic in my brain) aside. This series is definitly doing something right (like i said, im 60 episodes in and Im still in it for the long-haul), but its really hard for me to figure out what it is thats locking me in. I guess if i had to put a word on it, its the "All-in-Zany" that's locking me in? Like they're entirely self-aware that there is no need to turn figureskating into a martial art but they do it anyway. And then they treat that premise as dangerously as any other martial art. I always like when a show is willing to do something off-the-wall and show real dedication to said off-the-wall thing. (IE: The S2 RWBY Foodfight). Yeah i think thats it. No other show would give me "Martial Arts Pingpong" or "Martial Arts Pancake Cooking" and then throw around dynamite-laced pancake batter.

#Girl-form-Ranma has consistently shown a mastery of the art of disguise so they could totally get a new life #They're consistently shown liking ce-cream specifically #And an ice-cream parlor is a thermo-regulated environment that provides a decent shield from hot liquids #so even if Ryuga stumbles across it while lost they wouldnt see through the disguise #ranma 1/2 #ranma

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stephiethewephie · 8 months ago

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Blades Can do Much More than Hurt

This is for @boopshoops for her amazing artwork of mine and so many others' twst OCs! I TOLD YOU I WOULD WRITE SOMETHING!

I had the idea from your ask where you showed Jocia's love of figureskating to make the fic about Piper taking Jocia out to skate on a lake together!

I hope you like it you lovely human!

(Quick notes: This is going off of TCOAV AU, so Piper is 19 years old in this fic. She is now a Junior at NRC and has developed a lot during her two years there: growing thicker skin, more self-confidence, focusing on herself more, etc. Another note, feel free to take this as either romantic or platonic, I tried to make it so you can see it as either. Also, if I mischaracterize Jocia in some way or get TCOAV lore wrong, I apologize!)

Enjoy!

Two woman in a similar situation somehow found each other. Strange how fate can lead you to the person who understands you the most.

Just as Piper was leading Jocia, hand in hand, to a location undisclosed to her. Normally, Jocia would never willingly blindfold herself and be lead to a mysterious location. But, after knowing her for as long as she did, Piper was one of the only people she trusted to do it.

It was a cold, winter's day. It was winter break, so everyone else had gone home. With nowhere else to go, these two usually spent their days hanging out with each other. This day was no different.

Both ladies were bundled up in heavy jackets, hats, scarves, boots, gloves, and for Piper, earmuffs. Piper braided her hair into a low hanging upside down beehive shaped braid so that the wind would not blow it everywhere. In her other arm was her Pooh bear which she adorned with a knitted hat with two holes to stick out his ears. Jocia was carrying her bat in her other hand. Piper insisted she did not need it, but Jocia always wanted to be on the side of caution.

"When are we gonna get there?" Jocia asked. While she could go on for hours even in the snow, it was getting kind of boring just walking in snow for the past 10 minutes.

"We're almost there," Piper reassured. "We just need to get past this hill."

Once they made it past, Jocia heard the sloshing sound of Piper's footsteps in the snow halt, so she stopped in her tracks as well. Piper let go of Jocia's hand.

"We're here!" Piper said in her cheery voice.

When Jocia removed the blindfold, her eyes immediately grew wide and her mouth agape. What stood in front of her was a small lake covered completely in ice. It was something she hadn't seen in such a long time. It almost brought her to tears.

Jocia then noticed that Piper had gone off somewhere. She looked to see her on the side of the lake picking up some objects in the snow. Jocia's eyes widened again when she saw two pairs of ice skates in her hand. With her usual joyous demeanor, Piper ran back holding up the skates to Jocia.

"I recall that you have mentioned liking to ice skate," Piper said cheerfully. "Me and Jade encountered this lake on our walks a while back. I thought that you might like it since it's mostly secluded." She handed Jocia a pair of skates, she was still in too much of shock to say anything. "I tested the ice beforehand and it's thick enough to skate!" Piper proclaimed before going to put on her own skates.

Jocia looked down at the skates in her hand. Her eyes focused on the blades. Blades which she has not seen in years. The blades she usually saw were the blades used to hurt others. These blades, however, were made for something entirely different.

"Jocia?" Piper's voice called to her. She already put on her skates and was curious why Jocia had not put hers on yet. "Are you ok?"

Jocia was at a loss of words. Piper had done something so thoughtful for her, but she could never come up with the words to express how much this meant to her.

"Yeah," she said in her usual nonchalant tone. "Thanks." It sounded like a thanks for checking in on her, but it was also a thanks for doing this all for her. Thankfully, Piper smiled back at her, so hopefully the message went through.

After the two placed their skates on, they stood and gained their balance on the edge of the lake. Piper laid Pooh in the snow so he could watch. They looked at the lake for a bit, mesmerized by the glisten of the ice below them, the sparkling snow around them, and the trees that covered the area, making it truly theirs and no one else's at the moment.

Jocia was the first one on the ice, as she took a deep breath before taking her first few glides. She feared that she had forgotten how to skate after these years away. But, as one is with a bike, it stayed with her. She moved flawlessly across the ice. With a surprising amount of grace matched with her usual fierceness.

For a moment, the world stilled except for her, and an all too familiar feeling washed over her; freedom, security, peace, home. At this moment, she didn't give a damn about school, what might be going on at home, anything. It was just her and the ice, where she always belonged.

Piper watched Jocia in awe, mesmerized by each turn and spin the bigger woman performed. She herself had not yet taken the ice yet, as she was too focused on Jocia's movements. Ever since they met, Piper could tell that there was more to Jocia than just the brute that everyone said she was. And this, along with the years they've know each other, proved it. And for Jocia, Piper was one of the only people she allowed to see this side of her.

Jocia stopped in her formation and struck a pose. Piper responded by clapping her hands and screaming cheers at her, which caused Jocia to leave her skate-filled trance. She smiled at the brunette before realizing she had not yet gotten on the ice.

"So, you gonna get on, or am I gonna have to drag you on the ice myself?" Jocia asked with a smirk.

Piper became a bit flustered in embarrassment as if she just remembered she had skates on as well. She looked down at her feet before slowly moving one foot forward... which slowly inched forward little by little until she was almost in a splits. She stopped herself with her hands and attempted to lift herself back up, only for her feet to switch and her to start shuffling to try to balance herself. The next thing she knew, she fell butt first on the ice.

"Oh bother," Piper said embarrassed. Jocia was trying her hardest not to laugh, but her smiled remained as she kneeled down to look at her.

"Are you alright?" Jocia said trying to sound as genuine as she possibly could.

"Oh! I'm chipper!" Piper said with a smile that Jocia could tell was semi fake. "No need to worry!" She tried to get back up, but kept landing on her butt at every attempt.

"Do you not know how to skate?" Jocia asked in a manner that sounded like she was making fun of Piper, but was actually genuinely curious.

"I-I can skate! Just... with the help of a handle bar..." she looked away from her in defeat before giving the semifake smile again. "But don't worry about me!"

Jocia frowned as she knew what was happening. Piper is one to sacrifice so much in favor of making others feel happy. Even if that means removing her own joy and involvement from the picture. Jocia could relate to that fondly, but she knew it wasn't the best. While she has seen Piper grow to be more self-focused over the years, old habits die hard she supposed. And she could tell that Piper wanted to join in.

While she was never able to provide the right words in situations like this, Jocia knew that sometimes, actions speak louder. She stood up and placed her hand out with her palm sticking up to Piper.

"Come on, I'll teach you how to skate!" Jocia said, trying to be as welcoming as she could be.

"W-what?" Piper got flustered at the surprise offer. "Y-you don't need to do that! You can just-"

"Either that or I'm going home." Jocia did not mean that to sound like a threat, and she did not want to force Piper to do something she was uncomfortable with. "I-if you want to," she added. But, it seemed to work as Piper took a hold of Jocia's hand, accepting the invitation.

Jocia, quite effortlessly, lifted Piper back on her feet. Piper started to slip again, but Jocia kept her hold on her so she didn't fall again.

"Try and bring your feet together," Jocia instructed. She could tell that Piper was getting a little anxious. So, she reassured her, "I'm not gonna let you fall." This gave Piper enough calm and confidence to finally gain her balance in the ice. Both her and Jocia smiled brightly at the small victory.

Jocia moved her body so that she was standing side by side to Piper. "Follow my lead," she said as she slowly slid her left skate in front of her. Piper did the same. She felt a little wobbly, but Jocia reassured her that she would not let her fall and that she was doing great. One slow glide after the other, the two were moving forward. Piper eyes sparkled and smile widened in delight at the fact that she was skating. Seeing Piper's joy made the other one warm and joyful as well. It reminded her of when she tried to teach her siblings how to skate. One of the more pleasant memories that they have. She hoped that they were doing well.

After a few more moves and teaching Piper how to turn, Jocia let go of Piper's hand to see how she could do on her own. Piper did not disappoint. She was moving straight and making turns all on her own. Jocia cheered for her and Piper jumped in the air in victory before falling on the ground again. This time, they both laughed as Jocia helped her back up again.

"Start moving again. I wanna try something," Jocia said when an idea hit her. "If that's ok with you."

Piper nodded her head. "I'd be delighted to try!"

"Let me know if I do anything to make you uncomfortable," Jocia said in consideration. Piper smiled and nodded before Jocia took hold of her hand and motioned her to move again. Before they could move more than a few feet, Jocia moved in front of Piper and started skating backwards with Piper's hand still in hers. Piper jolted in surprise as she felt Jocia's other hand move to her hip.

"Is this ok?" Jocia asked to make sure, and Piper quickly nodded her head. Jocia smiled as she began to lead Piper across the ice like they were dancing at a ball. Piper held onto Jocia's hip in turn as she tried to follow Jocia while keeping her balance. When she was able to gain her footing, Piper looked up at Jocia and gave her an enthusiastic grin. Jocia gave a warm one in return before spinning them 180 degrees.

Piper giggled as Jocia proceeded to show of her own skills as she skated around her. Backwards, forwards, sideways, Jocia gave Piper an up close and personal performance before going back to her hips.

"Would you mind if I lifted you up and spun you around?" Jocia asked.

Piper could not tell if it was her face trying to warm up from the cold, or Jocia making this sudden request, but her face was even redder than Riddle's angry face at the moment. But, she enthusiastically nodded her head, which gave Jocia all of the affirmation she needed to lift Piper up by her hips and spin her around. The giggles and happy stimming Piper did when Jocia put her back down made Jocia's stone heart melt. She held on to Piper's hand and spun her around in circles a few times by skating around her before letting go, spinning herself, and bowing. Piper was surprisingly able to keep her balance as she cheered for her.

Once Jocia opened her eyes, they widened in horror when they saw that the ice around Piper's feet was cracked and about to break. She hurriedly skated to her and exclaimed "LOOK OUT!" before jumping at her and tackling her to the snow on the edge of the lake. She made it just in time before the ice fully gave in.

Jocia got up to make sure the Piper was ok. Nerve struck as she saw Piper's eyes widen and her breath start to get heavy, like she was suffocating. While in kind of a panic herself, Jocia knew what to do when Piper was about to have a meltdown. She quickly grabbed Piper's Pooh bear and gave it to her, kept a good enough distance so she doesn't feel too close, but is also there if she needs her, and practiced deep breathing to have Piper follow along. Once Piper was able to ground herself with her breathing and the softness of the bear, she looked to see that Jocia had just saved her from the cracked ice.

"I'm sorry that I had to do that." Jocia said once she saw that Piper had come back to reality.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Piper said giving a soft smile to Jocia. "You saved my life, I should be thanking you!" Jocia smiled back before offering her hand once again to Piper, who immediately accepted. Piper opened her arms wide out to Jocia, who was hesitant at first, but accepted in great.

"Thank you for this," Jocia said as she held onto Piper.

"It was my pleasure," Piper said cheerfully back. They let go when they realized how cold they were. "How about we head back to ramshackle and I whip together some tea with honey!"

"Sounds good to me," Jocia said before joining Piper on their was back.

Two woman, both lost, scared, and trying to find a way back, somehow found each other. Though misunderstanding and unintended boundary crossing and rage threatened to split them, forgiveness, communication, and empathy kept them together. Though soon enough they will have to return to their worlds, they will treasure and savor the moments they have together. So is the tale of the woman who finally sharpened her blade, and the one who found a better use for hers.

BONUS:

Piper had just finished her second period class with Mr. Goldspire and was about to head to the courtyard to rest for a bit before she overheard a few students talking.

"Did you hear about the new student?" Student A asked Student B.

"Yeah, I heard he just came out of nowhere!" Student B replied. Piper sensed a bit of Deja Vu as she decided to ease drop on the conversation.

"I swear, if this is anything like that other magicless, otherworldly student fiasco, this school is going to the underworld for sure." Student A said.

"Here he comes!" Student B said. "Act like you didn't say anything."

Piper looked over to see who the student was. She was greeted with a tall man with braided black hair and golden eyes. He kind of looked like...

Wait... WHAT?!

"...Jocia?!"

(Final Note: That became so much longer than I thought it would be! I just got way too into it lol. Consider it an early birthday present as well since I saw it is your birthmonth (or I'll just write you something else for your birthday, I DO WHAT I WANT HAHAHAHAHA). Anyways, thank you so much again Shoopy and I hope you liked it!)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twst oc #oc #my ocs #twst mc #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #moot oc #moots #piper finch #twst writing

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heesingshoon · 5 months ago

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May as well make one of these, you know? Just know, I only do Enhypen... Maybe some others but if I do it'll be for a request and those are probably going to be rare. And they'll mainly be smut. : |

I will NOT, and I repeat, will NOT be doing any writings for Niki. If anyone asks, I'll point them here. I'm thinking about MAYBE doing a Jungwon/Sunoo hot thoughts, but that's about it.

𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕫𝕖'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠:

Coach!Heeseung Hot Thoughts - 🌶

𝐉𝐚𝐲:

Brother's Best Friend - Pt.1, Pt.2 🌶

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞:

Roommate!Jake aphrodisiac hard thoughts - 🌶

Nasty Dog - 🌶

Not saying bye to Jake when you leave for work - ☁️

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧:

Princely Manners - 🌶

FigureSkating!Sunghoon Hot Thoughts - 🌶

𝐄𝐱𝐭��𝐚:

Fic Recs + Hyung line edits

Music recs because I love you guys. :}

#blayze blabbers #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hyung line #heeseung smut #jongseong smut #jake smut #sunghoon smut

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plasmasimagination · 1 year ago

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Hi! Congrats on getting 300+ followers!! If it's cool, may I get a matchup for Honkai Star Rail? (Sorry if it's long,,,, I'm just super excited and happy for youu windidbid) (please no sampo)

I'm an INFJ who's pronouns are she/they. My sun in Gemini, my moon is in Ares and my rising is cancer.

I'd describe myself as curious, easily excitable, pretty witty, a bit shy, bubbly, and low-key feral. I'm observant and calculating by nature, but I tend to keep that hidden. At times, I do tend to be depressive and super anxious (due to past bullying). In addition, I have a habit of being really hard on myself and pushing myself to my limits. I'm in a better place now, but sometimes it haunts me.Gaining my trust is pretty hard, but if you do, I'm riding or dying for life.

I like to try new things(, foods, activities, ext.) The issue is I have a weak stomach and get sick easily if I don't get enough sleep 😅 (strong mind, weak body hdudbdj)

I love cozy things!!(soft pastels, blankets, oversized sweaters, big scarves, stuffed animals, fairy lights) But I also have a love for the macabre My favourite outfit on cooler days consist of oversized sweaters, leggings, runners and a giant blanket scarf on top!

My hobbies include reading, writing, singing (in private) drawing, napping, learning new things, and playing video games. In the winter I love to figureskate!!! I know a bunch of tricks on the ice.

People have described me the following:

super self-aware

Constantly nervous (kinda true),

" riddle wrapped in an enigma, locked in a box, then shoved in a beehive" - my sibling

the grandma friend (Specifically the one wanting for their husband to come home from the war idk why tho)

Unhinged at times

Goofy insights

I tend to joke around with my older sister about them buying me something (like a snack or something) but the moment they say "alright bet" and then proceed to buy me the said thing I get flustered and be like "noooooo :(( I was just kidding >_< pls i take it backkkkkk)) because I'm not used to being on the receiving end of this kind of stuff.

I actually like to sing. It's just that I'm shy about it and only sing when I'm either by myself or comforting someone. When people catch me singing, they’re shocked af. I've had an where people from my church group with the priest (like around 30) caught me singing, and we had a staring contest for about 15 seconds before they bombarded me in compliments.

I've eaten a burrito with North Carolina Reaper sauce out of curiosity and ended up getting sick as a result (I even had to sign a waiver when I ordered it ahebej)

Thank youuu!

HELLOO HI HI HI HI CUTIEPIEEEEE, absolutely thankful for the amazingly written request *mwah mwah mwah* was very easy for me to write because you let me know everything I needed

And I match you up with

JING YUAN

No words. You two are a match made in heaven

Your calculating nature + his observant nature = absolute power duo

He would absolutely not allow you to push yourself to your limits. He will nicely distract you from something he thinks you're overdoing/ hurting yourself by doing it, he will tell you there's no need for it, and reassure you

YOU LIKE COZY THINGS?? WELL GREAT!! Jing yuan himself is just super cozy to be around, he's like a huge cotton ball, super soft and cuddly!!!

You say you're constantly nervous? Take a Jing yuan, he might not make it dissapear, he's not god obviously, but he will try his best to calm you down, telling you to breath, speaking softly to you, just generally trying his best to make you be comfortable

Enigma....hm not a problem for Jing yuan, as we know he can reach deep into people's hearts and feelings, i assume he would also be like that with you, taking his sweet time over the course of you guys being together to understand you, every small thing about you, even some things you didn't even know yourself about yourself

He always can't help to chuckle at how sweet and cute you are at times, he's the type of man to get you anything you ever dreamed off, and will spoil you in every category, and he finds it even more satisfying seeing your reactions to his small surprises

All in all, I think you two are perfect for each other and when u marry I expect to be invited to the wedding 🥰🗡️

Don't forget to eat and drink babe, take rest, and stay cute

#jing yuan x y/n #honkai jing yuan #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr icons #hsr spoilers #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail fanart #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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making reader like an actual cunt is so refreshing. carol lore, i figureskated for ten years and there are some TYPES of girls in the 90s/00s that were just...so vile. i love making reader this way lmao.

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soyafears · 10 months ago

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"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?!"

"You said the fringe had to go!"

"On show day? You'll get us disqualified!"

Did @tricoufamily's cas challenge ! I got unrequited love + sports and I found it quite challenging to do😆

Details about them are under the cut!

Unrequited Love + Sports

Sim 1: Rei Hatsuyuki

Traits: Kind, Gloomy, Sensitive

Characteristics: Light Brown Long Hair and Big Ears

Nepo baby of retired olympic figureskater. Used to compete solo until her coach forced her to partner up with Kozue to make up for his evident lack of skill.

Sim 2: Kozue Yoichi

Traits: Boisterous, Artistic, Nervous

Characteristics: haved Platinum Blonde Hair and Hooded Eyes

Passionate about figureskating but he never seems to be able to focus and grow. He's not that bad, he just needs a push in the right direction.

* I also like to think that he's v impulsive and shaved his head mid mental breakdown before their competition.

* I also think that Rei thinks that she's way beyond Kozue in all aspects of her life. And she learned to love her career more than anything in the world as a way to cope from a frustrated mother projecting what she could have been onto her. She loves her career so much and would not trade it for some scrappy partner's affection.

#ts4 #sims 4 #i did not expect to enjoy making this as much as i did

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kroosluvr · 4 months ago

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I know its a little late, and I love the Showtime you already made, but yesterday i had a AkeSumi showtime idea. You know how in ShuSumi's showtime takes place on a cathedral? And Ella has a bouquet of flowers? Well, what if the showtime starts and Sumi is looking all gloomy at the altar next to the shadow/enemy. And then they like lean for the bride/groom kiss Akechi burst throught the door saying "I OBJECT" while pointing with gun, and then Sumk perks up, does a backflip and says "ME TOO, IT APPEARS THIS WEDDING - *both take their swords out* -IS CANCELLED" And then they both slash the shadow to bits. Idk probably its dumb, but i wanted to share it with you

OMG HIIII YES poor sumi... baby..... AKECHI JUMPING INNNN CUTESKDFHJKW12903823 i love them. I love them.

i think my one thing abt that situation is that i want both of them to have their own agency if that makes sense SO the figureskating rink idea i had was both of them taking control of that intimidating/unfamiliar situation and making smth fun out of it EHEHEH but gahhgghwhvhg so cute..so cute i think akc having a soft spot for sumi always gets me :'))) them havign fun together and just being sillay. i can SURVIVE

<- honestly forgot shsm showtime took place in a cathedral (<- like i knew that but i forgot. (?????????) <- I shuould draw it sometime

#cele answers #Anonymous

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hepatitushepatits · 1 year ago

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Egg headcanons! (Yes more) ((and yes this is if everything was happy and all eggs were alive))

Winner of 26/11/23 poll

JuanaFlippa is allergic to 20+ things (I can list them but that may or may not be overkill)

When Leo has panic attacks, Foolish or Vegetta or Roier will rock her and pet her hair to ground her (Def not projecting)

Pomme, Leo, and Sunny are lefthanded

Richas is ambidextrous

Pepito also has allergies. Pepito has juvenile osteoporosis and chronic pain, and on-and-off uses a wheelchair.

The Hope egg is named Tereza, and A1's real name is Ignacio.

Bobby is an empath

Tallulah has a small collection of photos of Wilbur and his friends from before the island, to recreate when they get out.

HOBBIES

Tilín, Bobby, Chayanne, and Empanada do wrestling

Chayanne is one of those kids whose in literally every program. Like, he does sword/fence fighting, archery, wrestling, kickboxing, baseball, futbol (soccer), martial arts, leatherwork, bookbinding, everything you can think of.

Dapper tap dances

Tallulah crochets and taught Wilbur and Philza to

Tallulah also figureskates

Leonarda does hiphop, tap, ballet, and latin dance

Sunny can do the BEST nails. Like. Seriously talented (in Tubbo's eyes) Example below.

Trump liked to work in animal shelters, and took the best care of all of them

MISC AGAIN

When they have to wash it, Empanada, Richas, and Dapper all go over to Felps' place to have it washed because he has a similar hair type and does it really well.

JuanaFlippa, Slime, and Mari all have matching gas masks. Juana's from her allergies, and Slime and Mariana because of Purgatory

Sunny has a rhotacism

Ramón has a really good fashion sense, and helps Fit out when he goes on dates with Pac.

When Tilín and Bobby wrestle, they try to drag Pepito in but he's too weak to fight (PROJECTING AGAIN, my cousins never wrestled with me because I'm disabled)

Pomme has like, whole bookshelves full of her journals.

Pomme is Muslim, and transitions from a shayla and a hijab, very rarely a niqab depending on the situation (if this isn't like. Accurate. To the Muslim religion tell me, I'll fix it. I don't wanna offend anyone.)

Richas just RAMS people with his forehead when he's playing

Half the eggs have bird wings, while the other half have normal dragon wings. Pomme is the exception, she has butterfly wings

Richas has no sense of personal space, due to sleeping in the Brazilians sleep room.

Tallulah loves Hamilton

Bobby has palilalia

The whole island has a theatre night once in a while, where the eggs act out movies and shows.

Dapper is a god of death devotee, as is Badboyhalo. I have so many headcanons about what this entails for them, rituals, their exact type of devotee, ect. I'll shut up tho

Carre taught Ramón to skateboard, so Ramón always has those knee pads on. Also he never wears a helmet, no matter how much Fit begs him to.

All of the eggs do speak, but not often. They mostly communicate through AAC devices which serve as tablets and also communicaters. They also use sign language. Also, they all have notebooks to elite in. So to be more accurate, the signs all around are the eggs papers littering the ground

Sunny has chronic migraines and headaches, so she's always wearing her sunglasses for that reason.

Sunny trailer park princess canon

Poncho Pepito. See below.

Also like a jumpsuit. Under. Idk.

You know that post that says that Pepito has those like children glasses? Yeah. That.

Tallulah likes Pepsi over Coke. Chayanne likes Coke over Pepsi. Sunny doesn't drink soda, besides ginger ale.

Sunny keeps her hair above her neck, because she hates the feeling on her collarbones. (projecting again)

She's literally stretched out shirt collars to being unwearable to stop it from touching her neck (me af)

Empanada has like. Neopolitan hair. Brown, pink, blond/white. She has vitiligo, and is black/japanese. Em's got like, onyx eyes? Like ddu. I forgot the English word. But they sparkle like obsidian, kind of.

Dapper loves watching Skeppy videos, but they reach the island very late

You know Wilbur's new album? He sent it to Phil, and he got it 2 weeks late (cuz international processing or whatever) and then Tallulah got to listen! She loves it! Her favorite songs are Glass Chalet and Dropshipped Cat Shirt.

The longest Sunny's hair has ever been is to her shoulders, aka when she first met Tubbo. She had it up in a bun to make sure it won't touch her skin. Sunny immediately asked him for a haircut on her first night at his place.

AGE/HEIGHT

Chayanne: 11, 4'2

Dapper: 10, 4'5

Ramón: 10, 4'6

Leonarda: 9, 4'8

Trump: 9, 4'2

JuanaFlippa: 9, 4'8

Tilín: 9, 4'3

Bobby: 8, 4'4

Tallulah: 8, 4'11

Richarlyson: 8, 4'4

Pomme: 7, 4'2

Sunny: 6, 3'9

Empanada: 6, 3'11

Pepito: 6, 3'2

MISC

Fit sometimes tells stories to Ramón about Schlatt. Ramón, so far, is absolutely infatuated. Big Guy is like a God, an idol to Ramón. (Did anyone watch his stream today? Just me? Alright)

Sunny has a cleft lip/palate

When Leo can't sleep, all the capybaras curl up around her with her in the middle, like a little nest.

All the eggs fucking love Pokémon. With a few exceptions (Ramón, Tallulah, Sunny)

Ramón likes blackjack instead. Or Egyptian Rat Screw.

Tallulah likes boardgames (she's a 'Sorry' lover)

Sunny likes Yu-Gi-Oh! better. Or Magic: The Gathering

Speaking of which, they all have those broadcast TVs, and very much live like in 2009 when you were running around during ad breaks, and dove back through furniture to not miss ur show. They can only watch Fed-approved-channels.

Pepito has a stutter and a lisp

Ramón is one of those kids who blends everything. Like. Spaghetti? Into the blender. Smoothie. Turkey? Into the blender. Smoothie.

His favorite is an onion, lettuce, mayo, ham, very thin cuts of shark meat, sweet gherkin, spicy pickle relish, and pineapple (I once knew someone who actually ate this. Daily. At lunch. Mauro you're now the inspiration for a minecraft egg) Ramón just blends it and goes lol

Welp. I think that's it. Thanks lol. I'd love to hear any of yours.

#qsmp #qsmp headcanons #qsmp help #egg headcanons #qsmp juanaflippa #qsmp quackity #help #qsmp eggs #can you tell who my favorite is #i dare you to guess

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

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A Perfect Score - Chapter 10 - A Song of Ice and Fire | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The moment has arrived for you and Aemond to prove yourselves against the Martells. You can only hope you've done enough to earn your place | Word Count: 7.7k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: teasing, hair pulling, mile high club (oop), voyeurism, degradation, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), ass slapping, orgasm denial, threatening behaviour, mentions of a broken family, mentions of chronic pain, blood, slight angst, injury in relation to chronic condition, trigeminal neuralgia, hospitals

A/N: I can't believe this is the LAST CHAPTER FUCK 😭😭😭 i love these two sm, would die for them 🥰 I really hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was so fun to write! If you're lucky there might even be an Epilogue 😉

Sunspear.

That’s where the finals would be.

Cocky fuckers. Thinking that they had the win, by having it on Martell turf.

At this point, the prospect of winning was low on the priority list. The top spot had been somewhat taken over, by carrying out the plan you had in store, which Aemond was increasingly becoming more and more suspicious of.

You and Helaena would play dumb whenever he walked past her room, hiding whatever you were doing. As much as Helaena prefaced that what you had planned was a terrible idea, she’d grinned and told you to do it anyway.

She’d even given her opinion when you modelled it.

“Perfect” she said with a proud smile, leaning back in her chair.

You’d packed the suitcase well enough that Aemond wouldn’t see it even if he opened it by accident.

When it was time to load up the car for the flight to Sunspear, staying in a hotel overnight before the finals tomorrow, there was a finality to it that widened the pit in your chest. Helaena had barely had you out of her arms, intent on hugging every last bit out of you so that she could savour the feeling.

“We’ll all be watching the match tomorrow” she smiled, “try not to get into too much trouble before then”

As much as you’re happy that she and her family will be there, as your manager, he will too.

Aemond had pre-warned you about that.

But to be honest, you were expecting it.

“You know me, can’t keep out of it it seems” you smile back at her, hand slipping out of hers as you move onto Alicent, who stands straight, pink lips pressed together, like one touch and she’ll just crumble into tears.

Alicent nods, picking at the top of her turtleneck, “It was so nice to have you here, sweet girl. You are welcome back whenever you like” she manages, her voice wavering with emotion.

Smiling gratefully, nothing else need be said when Alicent opens her arms to pull you into a hug, as if you were her own. She smells like expensive perfume, probably YLS, as you’d often seen the bottle poking out of her bag. At first, when you met, you found the scent overpowering, and somewhat tart. But now, as the perfume enveloped you in a warm, motherly hug, it was entirely comforting. And your heart strained in your chest, knowing that it may be a while before you get to come back.

Your face pulls into a smile as Alicent then moves onto her son, bringing a comically tall Aemond in comparison into a warm embrace. No person is more surprised than you when Aegon walks over, trying to hide how nice he’s being with humour.

“Come in. Bring it in then”

You laugh through your nose, giving him a quick hug.

“Alright, that’s enough”

You shrug, smirking, “Fine, you smell anyway”

“Ouch, I’m so fucking wounded”

You pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be watching as well. Can’t wait to see what happens” Aegon winks.

You turn awake, feigning ignorance, “Dunno what you mean”

You fought the urge to tear up as you looked in the mirror, watching the three of them wave you away. With lips pressed together to force a smile to your face, strained with emotion, you spare them a wave back, bidding the large Targaryen House goodbye.

Once past the security gates a deep exhale exits your lungs, and Aemond’s hand wraps around your knee, stealing your attention.

You smile at him, giving a soft nod, “I’m alright”

Aemond laughs through his nose, “You’re acting like you’ll never go back” he chuckles, “I know Mum would be very offended if you didn’t”

Smiling, you know it’s probably true. That they would like you back as often as possible, no matter the outcome of the finals.

Aemond scrolls through his phone, biting the inside of his cheek, “Applications are closing soon” he muses, almost so quietly you don’t hear him unless you’re leaning close.

“For what?”

He clicks his phone off, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket, “For the new academic year” he replied anxiously.

“Philosophy and History right?” you smile, putting your hand on his to calm him, “You’ll love it, Aemond”

“I know, it’s just-” he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be good at the whole academic side of it. It’s one thing to be interested-”

“You’ll do great because you’re interested in it” you smile, “besides there’ll be plenty of workshops on essay writing and such”

He sighs, like the idea of doing all of that is just so overwhelming right now. Not knowing what to expect, has his whole body tense.

“Finals first. Then I’ll apply” he states, turning to flash you a small, Aemond-smile. One you return with warmth.

“I’ll help you with your Personal Statement”

He laughs, “Then I’ll never get in” he jokes, making you swat his arm playfully.

It was a couple of hours on a plane to Sunspear, and with the assistance of the private jet supplied by Hightower Management, it was a simple process. The car even pulled up right next to it, allowing you both to largely avoid the media who stood behind the chain-link fence, trying to get a word or a photo from the mysterious couple.

You’d barely looked at the news. But every now and then, a notification would inevitably pop up on your phone, about your outburst and subsequent removal from the Targaryen House. Frustration boiled in your veins.

That wasn’t true.

But then again, not a lot they wrote about was true.

It happened so often, each time affected you less and less, and the quicker it was to push that aside.

An ‘unnamed insider’ had also offered their opinion.

‘There was an altercation with the Chairman of Hightower Management, in what I understand was a lapse of morals’.

You had laughed when you read it.

And so did Aemond.

Alys Rivers.

Still trying to dig her claws in, desperate for even a slither of that limelight. Of Aemond’s attention.

She wouldn’t fucking get it. No fucking way.

Aemond had joked that you’d beat her in a fist fight if need be. And you didn’t doubt it. In fact, the mental image somewhat amused you.

You looked up from your phone, the hum of the incessant jet engine vibrated through the seats. Arryk was fast asleep in the front of the jet, slumped back in his seat, with his hands clasped on his chest. His suit, inevitably crumpled with the awkward sleeping position he found himself in.

Aemond was seated next to you, earphones in, leaning back to only appear as if he were dozing.

You bite your lip, looking back down the aisle and then to Aemond.

He cracks open his eye as you stand up from your seat, a suspicious look rakes over you as you pull the jumper you were wearing over your head and huffing it onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” he asks gruffly, to which the only thing you can do is smile, seeing the way his gaze absorbs the image of what you’re wearing stuck tight to your skin.

Knowing he fucking hates it.

Hates it.

You roll your eyes.

“The toilet?” you reply sarcastically.

Gods, you know you’re pushing your luck but you just can’t help it.

You can practically feel the irritation radiating off Aemond. His lips part to say something but you’re gone with a smirk on your face before he can say anything. His harsh, determined gaze bores into the back of your head, burning a bright hole through it. You sway your hips as you walk down the aisle to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it.

10 seconds.

That’s how long you give it.

You pretend to wash your hands, looking in the mirror and smoothing your palms over the ponytail that sits semi-loosely at the back of your head.

5, 4, 3…

The door opens quickly and with a click it’s shut again, but this time Aemond slides the lock across. He had to duck to get into the cramped bathroom, and now with two people inside, it feels utterly stifling.

You have to bite back a smile that you’d guessed him so spot on. It hadn’t even been ten seconds. And here he stood, putting on a stoic, blank face, as if he had no intention of doing anything at all.

Your lips part to speak, but your throat is instead met with pressure, his palm flush to it and his fingers around the sides as he pushes you further into the bathroom.

“You want to get fucked?” he suggests in a dark, husky voice, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing as his control begins to wane, “Hm?”

You can see the way he expects you to respond, but as his fingers press on the sides of your neck, it only serves to make your mind swirl with want, seeing how frustrated he is. Nothing seems to want to come out of your mouth, shock pleasantly blocking your throat.

“Think I didn’t see that? The way you rolled your eyes? Acting like a little slut?”

You swallow under his hand, his words sending a bolt of arousal straight between your legs, throbbing with desire. The way your cheeks burn makes it clear to him what you really want, coupled with the tremble that has now managed to worm its way up your legs.

In a smooth moment, your thighs hit the counter in front of the mirror, his arm now reaching widely around you to hold your head up to see his expression in the mirror. You shiver at the sensation of his hair on your skin, his nose dragging up the side of your neck, his breath eventually hot on the shell of your ear.

“You just want it, don’t you?” he grunts, pressing his now noticeable erection against your backside, his hips moving torturously slow, as if to make you wait, to tease you.

Pride rings in your body at the way he’s just so easily fallen apart the way you predicted.

“No” you tease, biting back a smile which he sees in the mirror.

His mouth drawn tightly into a line, not revealing at all what he’s thinking.

Aemond’s large hands go to your leggings, tearing them down harshly like he can’t get a good grip on them. The speed, the sheer neediness of the gesture, has arousal pooling where you need him most and your skin prickling with desire.

“We’ll see about that”

You have to spread your hands on the counter to keep yourself up as Aemond tugs your leggings down just enough and bends you over, exposing you just enough that the cool air against your core makes you shiver.

“No” he gruffs, wrapping your hair around his knuckles and tugging back to make you look in the mirror at him, “You’re going to watch”

You barely have time to think about his threat before you feel the fat head of his cock kiss your folds, pushing forward, Aemond moans breathily as he looks down to watch you take the entirety of him, squeezing his length tightly.

It feels like the air is being constantly pushed from your lungs, he doesn’t even give a moment of reprieve, one hand tugging your hair and the other kneading the fleshy globe of your ass to spread you open for him to see. His cock pistons so quickly and with such a lewd sound that for a moment, it makes you embarrassed that Arryk might actually hear from the front of the plane.

“Keep your eyes open, princess” she breathes, leaning over your neck and giving a harsh tug to remind you. You whimper as his teeth graze over your skin, combined with the way he bullies that sensitive spot inside you in this position, it all feels very too much.

“Just my little fucktoy aren’t you, hm?” he grunts against your ear. And without even thinking you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak, your eyes dragging down to watch the ceaseless rocking of his hips slapping against you.

He delivers a hard slap to your ass, “Say it”.

“ - yes, I am - I am -”

Aemond groans, burying himself as deep as he can inside you with each devastating thrust, “Yeah, that’s right -”

You gasp loudly, eyes slipping shut as his hand makes his way to your front, his thumb drawing harsh circles against your clit. It’s more pressure than you anticipated to such a sensitive area, and it has your body pushing back to meet his, desperate.

“ - fuck, Aemond -”

“ - not my name, princess-”

Just when you’re about to lose it, he ceases his movements to your clit and slows his pace dramatically and he chuckles darkly when you whine with annoyance.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it-”

You can’t help but feel irritated. You are so, so close. It’s unfair.

“Come on, you can do it, baby-”

With a strained, annoyed tone, “-fuck, daddy please - I’m so close-”

You feel him grin against your neck, “better”

Nothing feels more overwhelming than when he picks up the pace again, blood feeling as if it’s on fire as it hums around your body, right to your little bundle of nerves that Aemond hasn’t left alone.

“-that’s it, cum around my cock, princess-”

And you do.

Hard.

So much so that Aemond has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Especially when his pace never falters, and he fucks you through your orgasm with the same vigour. Aemond moans as your walls flutter around him, squeezing his length tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his length quickly in his fist, a shuddered groan falling from his glorious lips as his warm cum coats your bare pussy. It’s near-pornographic, the way it feels to be covered by him, and even more so when he smears his cum over your slit with the head of his cock.

You smile tiredly, seeing that this little act is something that Aemond enjoys doing often.

Perhaps it's his way of reminding you you're his.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect-” he praises, “-baby you’ve made such a mess- come on, be a good girl-”

You’re near breathless as he pushes you to your knees in front of him, covering your lips with the cum that glazes his cock before plunging into your mouth. You let your jaw relax as Aemond makes the slow, lazy pace, using your mouth to clean the aftermath off his length.

You moan around him, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it - you like me using your mouth, don’t you-”

You make a noise of confirmation as he continues to use you, making his head tip back at the vibrations stimulating his oversensitive cock.

He pulls you off by your hair, looking down at you reverently, using his thumb to swipe whatever was left on your lips back into your mouth.

As your eyes meet, both of you light up in a smile.

"Seven fucking Hells, what am I going to do with you" he smiles lovingly.

The Dornish heat was nothing compared to that little bathroom.

The air was crisp as you exited the plane, a dull, but satisfied ache between your thighs. In fact, Arryk had looked at you both with some level of barely-contained suspicion when you came out the bathroom on the flight, and you’d flushed bright red when he asked if you were alright, and swatted Aemond when he made no attempt to hide his smugness and laughed out loud.

The hotel was lavish, and entirely different in style from the hotels you were used to on the tour. The floors were marble, the walls largely made of stone, with bright and vibrant colours decorating the tall ceilings and walls.

Even people’s fashion was different. Flowy fabrics of silk and light linens, probably due to the intense heat, which was already making it difficult to concentrate.

You gave Aemond a look when the receptionist gave you one key.

As if being in on an inside joke of sorts.

The last time you were forced to share one room, it was a very different circumstance.

The room was spacious and utterly luxurious, but you’d expect nothing less from the Martells.

The bed was enclosed with panels of delicate details surrounding it, along with silks of various vibrancies to lift it. The floor was marble, and a nice cooling sensation in comparison to the stifling air.

And as Aemond snaked his arms around your waist as you looked out onto the balcony at the lavish gardens, leaning down to bite at your neck softly, your eyes slipped shut.

“Aemond the finals are tomorrow, we have to practi-”

“And I intend to” he whispered back, kissing higher and higher on your neck, while one of his hands sank lower and lower, til they were beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“It’s still early, Princess” he mused.

You had both christened the bed that afternoon, and later on, any available flat surface Aemond could find, he would do things that would make even Aegon blush.

Unlike the other hotels, there was only one ice rink in Sunspear, and it would be the one you’d be using tomorrow to compete against the Martells. It was a bit annoying having to book in a spot to go over the routine, and you and Aemond had already practised beyond measure, but it was still nice to get a few more sessions in before the big day.

Surprisingly, you felt okay, and Aemond was the nervous one. Even though realistically, there was little outcome for Aemond, whether you won or not.

You sigh, the cool air of the rink hitting your skin, “At least it’s nice and cool in here”

Huffing your bag onto the floor, you look behind at him when he doesn’t reply.

Aemond, with a stoic expression, only gestured with his head in the direction of the stands.

Larys Strong sits there, his cane in hand.

His head is angled down, so that he’s looking over the bridge of his brow, his darkened eyes flitting between you and Aemond from where he’s seated in the middle of the rows of seats, which tomorrow, would be filled with people.

Immediately, irritation gnaws at your insides. And the only saving grace is Aemond’s careful hand on your arm, grounding you.

You make no effort to go to him.

He will come to you if he wants to speak.

It almost pleases you that it takes him so long to stand and step down to the ice rink, so that it gives you more time to think of what to say. You go to move away to speak to him, but Aemond’s fingers tighten, holding you close to him.

He wanted to stay with you.

“Aemond” Larys greeted first, leaning on his cane as he stopped before you both, smirking as he searched both of your faces.

Aemond didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” you ask, getting swiftly to the point, as you knew he wouldn’t.

Larys bowed his head, as if briefly embarrassed and wondering what to say, his slick wavy brown hair not moving around his shoulders.

“I am here for the finals-”

“That’s not what I asked” you added quickly, “to the point, please”

You didn’t see the barely-contained smirk that Aemond was struggling to keep at bay behind you. It turned out, he rather liked to see you angry.

Larys floundered noticeably.

“You had seen my emails?”

“I had”

Larys raised an eyebrow, “and it was insufficient?”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t hide your contempt, “You expected me to go to the press?”

“I thought that was the plan”

“There was no plan. Nor an exchange of terms between you and I. I sought your help because I thought you had information on my employment, and you did. There is nothing more to say”

He goes quiet for a moment, before lifting his signature smirk to his face.

“I see the Ice Princess has some fire in her”

Aemond’s grip tightens, as if he’s ready to explode at any moment.

“I do hope Floris is alright” he muses, taking a short step forward, “it’d be a shame for such a capable skater to retire so soon into her career”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Was that a fucking threat?

Larys smirks slightly, appearing to have hit the nerve he was after.

"Good luck with the finals"

"Watch it" Aemond responds, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Now because he's afraid you might actually hurt him.

Larys laughs through his nose.

Fuck you.

You and Aemond watch with bated breath as Larys leaves slowly, the clang of the double doors rattling behind him.

Aemond let's out a breath.

"Should I be watching where I put my skates now?" You ask him, half joking. But it earns a breathy laugh nonetheless.

"You say that. Maybe you should"

Practice goes as expected.

The routine is intricate, perhaps the most technical so far, but in a nice way. Working with Aemond now, when everything had been addressed was nice.

Gods it was so nice.

It almost made you sad that he wanted to retire after the finals.

He was so graceful. For such a tall guy, lined with lean muscle, he had such elegance on the ice. Wasn't afraid to show off, which the judges would no doubt love.

The song?

Swan Lake. The Ending Song.

A bold choice of Otto's.

Was that a threat too? Perhaps?

It didn't bother you too much, as you'd found a perfect place within the song to do what you had planned for weeks.

And gods, it'd all be worth it to see his face.

It was all very surreal.

A flurry of texts crowded your screen on the morning of the finals.

Rhaenys.

Baela. Rhaena.

Floris.

El.

Even some of your family.

Estranged family.

You're certain you blocked their number.

You sigh, pulling the towel around yourself and walking out of the open wet room. Aemond is laid flat on his back on the bed, a damp cold cloth applied to the marred eye.

If you didn't know any better, he looked asleep.

"Still bothering you?" You ask.

He just makes a noise of confirmation. His eye not moving.

You rub his arm lovingly as you sit next to him.

His eye had been bothering him all night, so much so that embarrassingly (his words) he'd had to remove the glass eye he wore and slept without it to alleviate the pain.

He'd looked so vulnerable when he showed you.

As if you'd run away when you saw it.

But instead, your heart leapt. You were more lovey than usual after a little drink at the bar with Aemond after practice, and you'd pressed your lips to his scarred cheek. Lingering.

Little did you know, that his heart leapt as well.

And when you slept, moulded in each other's arms.

It felt like it was always meant to be this way.

It changed something.

"Do you want some painkillers?" You ask softly,

"I'm alright, just took some…waiting for them to kick in"

Patting his arm, you give him a reassuring smile, though he can't see it.

Making sure he's not looking, you sneak the outfit out of your suitcase and into your bag for later. Biting your lip, you try hard to contain the excitement in your veins. And nerves as well.

For a lot of things.

Ping!

You laugh through your nose.

Scrolling, you check the other messages you have.

You laugh at that too.

Gods she's such a boomer. It's kind of painful.

You shoot her a quick text back, clearing the texts from your family without replying.

Not like they deserve it anyway.

Everytime you see a text from them now, it only reminds you of why Otto hired you.

Bad circumstances.

Someone of low background.

Ugh fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

With a barge pole if needed.

Aemond huffs as he gets up, squinting and looking over at you, "ready to dance with the vipers?"

"Oh more than ready" you smile at him.

You're thankful you have your own dressing room at least. To get everything right without Aemond's curious eye constantly looking at you.

No time for quickies this time round.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair all done into a ponytail with curls falling from it. Decorated with glitter hairspray and little pearls. Your outfit is black, as Otto had said it would be in his email. The corset is almost velvet like, with a slight v at the top (which made it difficult to initiate your plan, but you managed). And the mesh skirt over the leotard sways like a cloud over your legs.

You steel yourself.

You can do this.

When you go out to the hallway, looking down to the ice rink, where the stands are entirely full with the echoed chatter of the audience, your skin immediately prickles with nerves.

You feel Aemond's hand on the small of your back, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Feeling okay?" He asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You don't think you'll ever get over the feeling you get when you see him with his sapphire eye.

It literally takes your breath away.

But his scar looks reddened somewhat.

You furrow your brows, "Are you?" You ask, concerned, "your eye. It looks sor-"

"I'm fine" he says quickly.

I don't believe that.

You can see the way he's trying to be brave about it. His jaw tight and his good eye looking anywhere but you, as if he knows he'll be found out.

"Aemond we don't have to. If you're in pain-"

"No. I want to do this for you" he urges.

For you.

You swear for a moment your heart skips a beat, stilling in your chest as the rest of you gets warm.

Aemond can never be forced.

He's stubborn like that.

A Targaryen trait, you muse.

But you know deep down, he won't heed your warning. He's headstrong. Completely sure of his own opinion, rightly or wrongly.

There's something about it now though, which doesn't feel right.

"I'm alright, princess. Promise" he adds, taking one of your hands in his while he takes in your outfit.

"You look nice" he says, forcing a smile to his face. His hand goes over your sleeves to the clips at the top. He plays with them briefly, as if wondering what they are before you playfully slap his hand away.

"Off"

He gives you a look.

A suspicious one.

He knows you're up to something.

Then he smiles.

Again a forced one, but stubbornness will kill him first.

As you both walk towards the ice rink, journalists, media, the judges, the faces of the audience as well as the Martells all serve to wake your nerves.

You wave at Rhaenys in the crowd, Baela and Rhaena seated either side of her.

"There they are, the Ice Prince and Princess. Ready for the finals in their all black get up"

"They appear to be closer this time, speaking in hushed voices- oh! Was that a kiss I saw?"

"It was! Perhaps there is more to this mere partnership than meets the eye"

Aemond whispers to you, "up in the stands, to the right"

When you follow his eyeline, your face drops and you turn to avoid the cameras from getting a good look at your expression.

Otto Hightower sits there.

Alone.

Good.

He's looking down at you both, chin high but his gaze looking over his nose like you're shit at the bottom of his shoe. His hands are clasped in expectancy, clearly desiring a favourable outcome to the performance.

But at least now you know where he is, so you can see the look on his face.

The thought of it has an evil smirk rise to your face.

"Are we going first?" You ask.

Aemond nods.

Fuck. You hate going first.

And as if by magic-

"Aemond fucking Targaryen. The One-Eyed wonder!"

Qoren's voice has a tendency to travel. And right now, it's travelling through every nerve in you, jolting them awake. He walks over with a swagger, a slowness, clad entirely in bright mustard and wine tones, akin to his partner who is sat on the bench scrolling through her phone.

Aemond sighs, "Qoren" he greets flatly, rubbing his thumb against his temple on the marred side of his face.

"Just wanted to say good luck" Qoren smirks, nudging a curled wave out his face, "I'm certain you won't need it"

Cunt.

That's what you want to say.

Instead, you roll your eyes and take Aemond's hand leading him to the ice rink.

"Ignore him" you tell him, pulling of the blade guards and tossing them aside.

Aemond huffs a laugh, "Seven Hells, if he's in your bad books he's done for" he replies, joining you as you both go out onto the ice to do a few laps.

"Our Crownlands couple look ready and composed for a challenge today"

"And a challenge it will be. It's never easy going first, especially against the Martells. They'll have to work for it"

You skate next to him for a few warm-up laps, the heat rising again to your face as he takes your hand, giving his signature one sided smile.

Your heart flutters pleasantly.

In front of all these people?

He sees your reaction.

"I'm not going to hide anything anymore, princess" he says softly, "I've done it for far too long"

One part of you wants to cry with joy.

The other wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner.

So instead, you squeeze his hand. A good compromise.

As you skate to a halt in the middle, you mouth the words.

'I love you'

And your heart roars with delight.

He mouths it back.

"Our couple seem utterly smitten with each other"

"Their chemistry rivals the Martells, for sure!"

Taking a deep breath, you and Aemond nod to each other, getting in position to wait until the music starts.

It's quiet.

You could hear a pin drop.

His hand is warm.

The clarinets begin to play, the opening sequence of violins accompanying the music as you and Aemond begin the medium paced routine. The only sound you both can hear is the blades tearing through the ice, the rustle of your clothing against each other and the shallow breaths between each movement of the routine, moving swiftly hand in hand, twirling and feeling light and airy as Aemond lifts you effortlessly.

The music is almost frantic, the trumpets are getting so loud that they almost vibrate the ice beneath you. But you concentrate on the routine at hand, letting Aemond take your weight with each quick lift into the air, each synchronised motion perfectly executed.

“Quite a quick routine from the couple. Good choice of song and good technical ability so far”

“Yes, they really look like a proper team now, don’t they?”

As the music picks up momentum, you briefly glance at the stands mid-spin, smirking when you spot Otto’s eyes half closed, looking right at you. As if wondering what it is you are thinking.

Drums.

As Aemond moves in front of you for a split second, your hands lift to your shoulders, unpopping the buttons there.

No going back now.

Aemond looks over you in brief shock as the black is completely encompassed, a sheet of dark green falling over it like a curtain, replacing the beaded darkness with the bright forest colour he was so used to seeing his mother wear on her old performances.

It quickly changes to a barely-contained smile as the fabric laps at your thighs, the green mesh replacing the translucent black, right as the music hits its crescendo.

"Oh my-is that what I think it is!"

"Hightower Green looks very good on our Ice Princess!"

You don’t even have time to look at Otto.

The audience is a mix of clapping, awes and shouting of support. Never wavering for a moment.

Aemond continues the routine with a big, boyish smile plastered onto his face, performing the rest of the moves and lifts with a renewed vigour and passion that was not there before.

The rest of it seems to fly by, assisted by the smitten way you look at one another. Before you even know it, the music has died out. You and Aemond face each other, foreheads almost touching as the applause roars around you, several items like flowers and flags being thrown onto the ice around you.

It’s difficult to describe Aemond’s expression. Awe? Affection? Lust?

Love.

All you know is that you love it. And that all this was worth it.

You’re about to open your mouth, when his hands find each side of your face, his fingers holding the back of your head desperately, as he crashes his lips to yours.

In front of everyone.

In front of all of Westeros.

It feels exhilarating. Adrenaline boils the blood inside you, burning for him. And when you part, breathless after not only that, but the energy of the routine, all you can do is smile. Feeling so in love with him it’s honestly disgraceful.

Hand in hand, you bow to the audience, a massive grin plastered on your face. Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena are all stood, clapping passionately. Larys is seated at the end of a particular row, both hands clasped on his cane, smirking beneath it, as if he just loves watching the drama unfold.

And then Otto.

You’re happy to find he looks absolutely livid.

That's right, you think. This is where my loyalties lie.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you as you give your bow to the judges. But it’s not a tight, comforting hold. Not one of victory, or love.

“Aemond?..” you ask, turning to him.

He’s breathing heavily, his other hand pressed to the scarred side of his face, his good eye blinking quickly as he turns to you.

Your face blanches, “Aemond, what’s wrong-”

“I’m fine, it’s just-ah fuck”

He nearly doubles over in pain, his hand pressed painfully to the left side of his face, the faintest bit of blood trickling between his fingers.

Panic rings through you, and with your hands on his sides, you guide him on the ice towards the edge, helping him sit, ignoring the muffled whispers and rumours that echo around the atrium, “let me see, Aemond..”

He shakes his head erratically, “No, no, just-I’m okay”

“Aemond you are not okay” you urge, watching the way his other eye waters from the pain, his face going pink as he encourages himself to take deep breaths.

“It appears he may have some sort of injury. We’re waiting on some updates from management”

“Who do you need me to call?” you ask him hurriedly,

“I don’t know-fucking-call Mum, please” he replies pitifully, bending over in searing, hot pain that radiates from his eye socket.

Spotting Arryk, you rush over and grab his phone that he throws, pulling it to your ear while rubbing Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond, take the sapphire out, it’s just going to hurt you more-”

“No, no, I can’t-” he shakes his head, panicked and scared.

“Aemond”

When his good eye meets you, he looks so vulnerable and unsure you almost regret your tone.

But you just want him to be okay.

Turning away, he dislodges the sapphire, his hand still covering his face, despite having the utmost trust in you, he still doesn’t want you to see it, all red and sore.

“Hello, Alicent? Yeah I think Aemond is having one of his neurological-fuck-I don’t know-episodes? I don’t know what to do?” you speak nervously into the phone.

“I know, I know, sweet girl. He needs to go to Urgent Care right away, and needs his glycerol injections, alright? Where’s my father?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see him!”

“He has Aemond’s health insurance card, okay, find him and get him to hospital as soon as you can. okay? Has he taken the sapphire out?”

“Yes, I made him”

“Good. Until he gets to hospital, just apply a warm compress and keep him calm, okay? You can do this”

You hang up quickly, looking around and spotting Otto as he paves his way through the crowd of people. Still rubbing Aemond’s shoulder, all notions of hating him are gone in favour of helping the quivering, vulnerable man in front of you, whining pitifully as his nerves are set aflame.

“Otto, he needs to go to a hospital. Do you have his health card?”

Stoically, he nods, his eyes ignoring you, “I do, Arryk will take us. Come on”

He assists Aemond to his feet, leading him to the exit with urgency.

The fire doors open and Aemond turns to you, “You have to stay”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!”

“One of us has to stay, we’ll get disqualified” he reasons, with a wavering voice.

“Aemond, I don’t care about-”

“Well I do. Stay” he urges.

You go quiet, staring at him in disbelief and also shock. And seeing it all over your face, how conflicted both of you are, he leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers stroking your hair lovingly.

“I’ll be fine, baby..” he adds softly, “Stay”

You watch him hurry out of the fire escape, and straight into the back of Arryk’s car with Otto. He’s so doubled over in pain, clutching the sapphire in one fist, that he barely has any time to look back at you standing there, the warm air making the mesh skirt lap at your legs.

You only meet his worried gaze at the last second.

A shuddered breath tumbles from your lips, the adrenaline and panic of the last few minutes just sinking in. You feel a bit helpless, unable to do anything for him as he’s driven to hospital.

“Hey” the soothing voice of Rhaenys at your side pulls you out, and you look at her with bleary eyes, “are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so..”

She guides you back inside, sitting at the sidelines, “Sit here, I’ll get you a drink”

You can’t relax. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“Just a little update. Aemond Targaryen has been rushed to hospital in what we believe is an episode of acute pain due to a long-standing condition”

“We’ll wish him all the best in hospital and hope it isn’t anything too serious”

Rhaenys gives you a warm cup of coffee, but you can’t drink it, you’re too on edge already. And if any caffeine is pumped into your already hammering heart, you think it might explode.

You don’t even concentrate on the performance the Martells are doing, eyes nowhere near the scoreboard. Your leg bounces nervously, fully aware that you are probably being scrutinised endlessly by the media, with hundreds of articles already written about you.

Their orange and red outfits dance in your periphery. Spins, twists, lifts. Things that right now, don’t mean an awful lot to you. All you can think about is when Aemond turned to you, blood trickling between his fingers, face twisted in pain.

“Hey…”

You don’t even realise you’ve zoned out until Rhaenys taps your arm excitedly.

Shaking your head, you look around, everyone’s stood. Smiling. Clapping. The Martells are lazily skating their way to their end of the rink, talking with their manager, with bowed heads.

“Wha?..” you reply, completely dazed, “what’s happened?..”

“Qoren’s partner fucked her landing. They’re a whole 10 points short on the technical. Not including the penalty they’re likely to get” she replies, leaning closely to whisper it, a victorious smirk on her face.

Oh shit.

Your eyes meet the scoreboard, watching as the rest of the scores come in.

With the penalty, they’re tragically low. But your breath feels hot in your throat still.

This was always the part you hated.

Rhaenys’ ring-clad hand grips yours tightly.

The crowd's cheer, applause and shouts of support are nothing compared to the roaring in your ears.

"We won"

Entirely shocked beyond words and comprehension, Rhaenys pulls you into a hug, jumping up and down excitedly. Your face is blanched with shock, eyes still, and you realise you must look a total idiot to everyone else. The reality of the situation still not entirely dawning on you.

"The Crownlands have done it. The Championship title is theirs!"

"Shame our Ice Prince cannot be there to receive his trophy"

"Go! Go!" Rhaenys urges, pushing you by your shoulders to the stands where the judges are all grinning, holding the trophy, medals and large bouquet of gloriously colourful flowers.

It's a blurred slew of 'well done' and 'congratulations'.

The Martells, though devastated, nod in your direction in congratulations. And you barely hear it, but Qoren even seems to offer some sort of kind words for Aemond's condition.

Still doesn't make him less of a twat.

The trophy, long and golden, is heavy in your hands, rested against your shoulder, with the flowers pushed into your other, shoulders sagging with the weight of two medals around your neck.

Aemond.

With a few quick thank yous and bows of your head, your panicked, searching eyes find Rhaenys, who already has her car keys and your jacket in her grip.

"Come on" she utters, "quickly"

It feels utterly silly to still be wearing the green outfit for the competition while riding in the passenger seat of Rhaenys' Mercedes. But at least your black jacket provides some semblance of normality. You didn't even have time to take the medals off.

You did however, change your shoes, shucking your skates off in the footwell of her car.

She's driving well over the speed limit. But hey, most of Sunspear are as well. Through several junctions, she even graces some of the locals with her middle finger.

If you weren't so taut with nerves, it'd make you laugh.

The tyres screech loudly as she pulls into the hospital car park, the trophy nestled between your legs nearly making you trip over yourself as you hurl yourself out the car door.

Those tell-tale clicks of camera shutters and the echo of incessant questions are instantly upon you.

With the trophy loosely in one hand, all you can do is run to the entrance of the hospital, where the media are not allowed.

This time, they part a path for you.

The security guards at the front who have been fending them off, see your outfit, medals and trophy and immediately slip the door open, "Room 47"

You nod in thanks, your breath feeling like blood in your throat from the effort of running so fast and so suddenly. The lights inside the hospital hallways are stark, clinical, and far too bright. Your trainers thud against the linoleum floor, eyes desperately searching for the numbers on the rooms.

"25...24...shit, I'm going the wrong way-"

Aemond.

It doesn't help in the slightest that the hospital is a complete maze. You probably look a complete mess, pink in the face, hair all mussed up from running, but it's the last thing on your mind.

At the end of the hallway, you spot Otto, chatting with a dark-haired man in a white coat. Engaged in conversation, only looking up when the tide of loud footsteps comes closer to them.

You don't care about that either.

Otto tries to reach out to stop you from going in, but you're too fast, fiddling with the handle of the door before he has a chance to pull you back.

It's quiet. Your hurried breathing sounds so loud in your chest.

The door slams into the wall and Aemond looks up, seated sideways on the hospital bed. His cheeks are pink, from the remnants of pain that still linger, but he looks calmer, relaxed, with his brows unfrowned and sitting comfortably on his forehead. His hair, that was so neatly styled for the competition in his signature bun is somewhat curled from the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck.

A surgical patch is taped over his left eye.

His lips twitch when he sees you there, his right eye gleaming with affection, clearly out of breath, having ran the entire length of the hospital to get to him.

"Hey Princess..." he says softly, in a way that never fails to make your heart lurch into your throat.

You almost cry with relief that he's alright.

He licks his dry lips, "Did we do it?..."

With a relieved smile, a lump forming in your throat with emotion, you nod quickly, "Yeah...yeah we did..."

The breath is expelled from your lungs near-painfully when you surge towards each other, throwing your arms around one another, the trophy propped on the floor where you were previously stood.

He feels warm, with his hands around you like this, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. Your body sags against him.

He feels like home.

You hear him inhale, the familiar scent of you immediately having a calming effect on his body, his hand raising to brush your hair from your face as his palms cup either side of it, pressing a light feather-like kiss to your forehead.

His thumb wipes your undereye of moisture. But his smile says it all, his eyes crinkling, briefly irritating the spot where he's obviously had his glycerol injections not a moment before.

"I never doubted you" he utters quietly, "...not for a second"

You give a watery laugh. Hardly recognising this Aemond compared to the one you first met.

Competitions.

Scores.

Drama.

It all means fucking nothing.

The future. Happiness. It's all right here.

"Aemond Targaryen, don't ever scare me like that again..." you smile at him, half-joking, fingers tenderly stroking along his jawline, prickles of regrowth rubbing comfortingly along your skin.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his mouth opening slightly as he smiles.

"No promises, princess"

And finally, with a pleased little muffled sound crawling up your throat, his tender, full lips descend onto yours, sealing whatever is felt between you right now and all that has happened before.

It doesn't even need to be said. Those three little words.

Because they're just not enough.

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

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wowbright · 20 days ago

Text

Chapter 18: Busy

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

You might expect an Olympian at the Olympics to be incredibly busy, but for Blaine’s first few days at Sochi, he didn't have much to do as he waited for the games to start besides unpack, tour the facilities, chitchat in Russian with any Russian who would speak to him, and play foosball in the lounge with Mike and Sam (who had become far less insufferable since the backflip incident).

Blaine wanted to go into Sochi proper and see if he could find any locals to talk to about the effect of all the new construction, but it was an hour drive each way—and even though he didn't have much to do, the few things he did have scheduled were sprinkled throughout the day. He slept a lot and practiced a little and managed to escape the Olympic village with a bunch of teammates long enough to go on a hike in the foothills. The park looked absolutely nothing like Garden of the Gods, but it reminded him of being with Kurt anyway, and he felt an ache in his chest that he simultaneously wished would go away and also wanted to wallow in because it was so new and precious. He snapped a photo of the waterfall and sent it to Kurt with a text that said Wish you were here and then immediately regretted sending such an unoriginal sentiment to such an original person, so then he sent another message saying I ache when I think of you and I love it and wondered if maybe that was too much but whoops he had already sent it.

I might be a bad person was the next message Blaine received from Kurt when he was back in the Olympic village. Blaine wondered if his texts from the park had failed to transmit.

What happened? Blaine asked.

Because I like the fact that you ache. It means I'm not alone in the feeling.

The feeling of missing you? Blaine texted, half flirtatious and half concerned that was what Kurt literally meant.

You’re cute, Kurt texted back. It’s not me that I’m missing. And then, a while later, Sue thinks I'm distracting you.

Ugh. So that’s why she had interfered with Blaine’s last conversation with Kurt in Colorado Springs. Not to talk about costumes or trip logistics. But to— Did she threaten you?

It took a few moments for Kurt to respond. Unsure. Her tone was kind of threatening, and she did say something about punching me in the face if I kept you from medaling, but she also promised to get me a kitty cat I would fall in love with if you didn’t medal. Sue is very confusing.

I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's because I was late to that meeting. But you're not a distraction. At least, not in a bad way. If anything, Kurt was an inspiration. Before Kurt, Blaine had been approaching the Olympics half-heartedly. And then Kurt had shown up, and by the simple act of being himself, he had helped Blaine remember why he had fallen in love with figure skating in the first place. The way Kurt’s eyes lit up when he had a new idea, the way he talked about the process of co-creation inherent in costume design, the obvious joy he felt in bringing a shared vision to life—it reminded Blaine on a visceral level that what he was doing was art, and art could transform lives.

When Blaine had been younger, his dreams had so much bigger than figure skating. He’d wanted to help people through his art. Giving people a respite from their day-to-day struggles by having something beautiful to look at was part of it, of course. But it was more than that. He’d wanted to be a person gay kids who were in the closet and multiracial kids who wondered where they fit in could look to and feel a spark of hope, knowing that there was someone famous and respected who was like them. That's why he wanted to be a champion—not for the bragging rights, but so he could inspire others.

Those feelings had motivated Blaine through most of his career. But recently, he’d lost sight of them. Maybe they got buried under all the dysfunctional stuff with Eli, or maybe it was a natural period of burnout after more than a decade of pushing himself and being pushed. In any case, he had stopped caring about winning. Sure, he told himself that he wanted to win. But deep inside, he had the niggling thought: What did it matter, who got bronze or silver or gold? Every year, the competitions came and went and the medals inevitably ended up with somebody. Why should he care if he was one of them?

Those doubts had haunted his performance in the seasons prior to the Olympics. The only thing that had kept him going was the challenge of adding more rotations to his jumps and trying to make the odd new spin combinations Sue kept coming up with work. In retrospect, it was a miracle he had medaled at all, and even more of a miracle he was now here in Sochi. Sam had been right about one thing. Blaine hadn't earned his place on the team. He was a second stringer who made it to the top three only by dint of someone more deserving getting injured. And even after his place had been secured, even with Sue doing every weird thing she could think of to motivate him, even after designing programs with the goal of reviving the energy and focus of his younger days—even with all that, he’d kept thinking that maybe it was his time to fade into the background and let the likes of Sam Evans and Yuzuru Hanyu take over the sport.

And then Kurt had shown up and put Blaine back in touch with his heart.

In those private moments in the costume room, they had talked about the boycotts and the media frenzy and how fatiguing it was sometimes, wondering if there would ever come a day when politicians who were failing to address the real problems affecting their constituencies would stop using random minorities as scapegoats. It was all so impersonal and calculating, and yet the effects of it were deeply personal, transforming real people's lives, making it harder to live and breathe and just get by in the day-to-day, much less to find happiness.

But somehow, Blaine was finding happiness anyway. He wanted to help others find it, too. It was the most beautiful sort of defiance, to live and love and create in a world that wanted you to believe you were nothing.

You inspire me to be better, Kurt. I don't know how I would do this without you.

You've done it plenty of times before without me.

No, I haven't. This time is different.

How?

Blaine wasn't sure how to distill it into words that would fit on a phone screen. Because I'm different and the world is different. It's about something much bigger than me.

I think I get it, Kurt texted. I'm glad I can be there for you. I want to be.

~~~

If anyone was a distraction Sue should be worried about, it was Cooper. Before that interview at the Olympic Training Center and every day after, Cooper had bombarded Blaine with messages like Whenever you want to make a public statement I'm ready. And even though Blaine deleted every one of them, he couldn't delete the pain of receiving them. But Cooper was so single minded. He put his entire identity into his work. When he'd been in the NHL, everything was always about the NHL. And now that he was sportscaster, it was all about that.

ButAll Blaine wanted from his brother was for him to be like other people's brothers, sending him stupid texts about the latest episode of Homeland or his obsession with playing The Last of Us or even, you know, wishing him good luck.

Blaine wanted to believe that Cooper meant well. That this was his way of reaching out and saying I see you, but I don't know how to have a conversation that does not tie back to my identity as a media figure, so even my best efforts at communicating with you in a supportive manner will be couched in those terms.

That’s how Cooper’s support had always been packaged. Back when Blaine had decided to come out publicly, Cooper had run interference with their parents. “Of course we support you, Blaine,” his mother had said. “But what you do in private should stay private. You know, you should talk to Brian Boitano before you do anything rash. There’s a reason he never came out publicly. It would have ruined his career.”

But Cooper, who had already been in the public eye for nearly a decade at that point, had used his career in the NHL to persuade their parents to support Blaine. If he didn't come out, Cooper explained, he would be plagued with incessant questions about if he was dating and who was his girlfriend, and he wouldn't be able to answer any of them honestly. And since Blaine was absolutely terrible at lying, the public would know he was lying, opening him up to rumors and speculation and scandal. If Blaine wasn't keeping any secrets, he wouldn't have to worry about any of those things.

Blaine shouldn’t look askance at that. It was the right thing to say to their parents. They wouldn't have been persuaded by emotional appeals or arguments about integrity and being true to yourself. Blaine had already tried those. And to be fair to Cooper, sometimes he actually could say something nice and supportive without referring back to himself. After that taxing conversation with their parents, Cooper had said privately to Blaine, “I'm so sorry our parents are like this. I can't imagine what it’s like for you. But I’m glad you’re my brother. Our parents need to stop being such homophobes. They should be proud of you for who you are, not just your skating. I am.”

And Blaine had thought Cooper was being a little harsh, because their parents weren't virulent homophobes; they were the milder kind, the kind that could have gay friends and be fine with it, but for whom having a gay son was inconvenient and disturbing because it upended their expectations for a daughter-in-law and grandchildren and heteronormative Christmas photos. They we're proud of him in their own way. But also, they would have preferred him to be more like Cooper.

But Cooper didn't need Blaine to be like Cooper. So Blaine had cried and Cooper had hugged him, and even Cooper cried a little, and Blaine hadn't felt this close to his older brother since Cooper first taught him how to skate.

Blaine wanted to believe that Cooper was trying to be supportive again, to offer Blaine the opportunity to say what was on his mind publicly so that it didn't seep out in unproductive ways. But what could Blaine say that would make a difference? His teammate Ashley Wagner had already told the Today show “it’s horrible the treatment the LGBT community gets in Russia,’’ and Brian Boitano had finally come out and been appointed by President Obama to the U.S. presidential Olympic delegation along with already-out Billie Jean king and Caitlin Caho. Weren't those pretty big statements in themselves? Blaine didn't know what words he could add. Maybe the biggest F-you he could give to Putin would be winning the gold.

The day Kurt was supposed to arrive in Sochi but didn’t because his flight was delayed, Cooper texted, You speaking up could help people.

If Kurt had been there—if Blaine had picked him up at the airport that morning and Blaine had sat contentedly in the corner of his hotel room as he unpacked and they had gone to lunch and then for a walk along the Black Sea—Blaine would have had someone to talk with about this. Sure, there was Mike, but he had his own pressures to deal with right now. And there was Sebastian, but they didn't really talk about this kind of thing. But with Kurt, Blaine felt like he could talk about anything, even the parts of himself he was unsure about and didn't understand.

It shouldn't only be that way with Kurt. Family was supposed to be like that, too.

This time, Blaine didn't delete the text. He texted back, You know what would help? If I could talk to you without it turning into a story. I want you to be my brother, not my interviewer. If you can't do that, stop messaging me.

~~~

That night, Blaine woke up only a couple hours after going to bed. He’d been dreaming about being with Kurt in the Garden of the Gods, only in this dream it was summer and warm, and sometimes the sunset shone through the rocks, lighting everything up in pink and orange, and sometimes it was night and the Aurora Borealis illuminated the dark with dazzling streaks of green and purple. Kurt had on short sleeves and an ascot—a tantalizing blend of skin revealed and hidden—and they were holding hands, and Kurt said something that made Blaine’s heart ache in that increasingly familiar, delicious way, and Blaine ran his fingers over the Kurt’s forearm and Kurt smiled and Blaine's heart overflowed and he said, “This is my home, Kurt,” and Kurt understood exactly what he meant.

Blaine lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The curtains were flimsy, letting plenty of light into the room and Blaine’s eyes now that he had pulled his sleeping mask off. Inside him, another long-buried dream was awakening. Once upon a time, Blaine had dreamt of sharing his life with someone—really sharing his life, not just his bed and his body, but his hopes and aspirations, too. He’d dreamt of having a husband and creating a home that would nurture them both, a sanctuary where they could explore life together and bring out the best in each other, where every day Blaine would discover something new about himself and also be challenged to look beyond himself as he learned to understand the world through another person's eyes.

He'd gotten glimpses of that in some of his relationships. As a teenager falling in love for the first time, he’d been so open and generous and naïve. But with each breakup, he’d pulled his armor a little tighter around himself, always holding something back because he knew he would eventually get hurt, and the blows would cause less harm than if he never revealed the parts of himself that were vulnerable.

Around Kurt, Blaine didn't feel a need for armor. He wanted Kurt to see and know everything. And sure, that was risky.

But this time, with this person, it would hurt more to never take the risk.

Blaine lay in bed for ten minutes, maybe twenty, listening to Mike snore and thinking about Kurt, before realizing he was not going to fall back asleep anytime soon. His body was convinced it was early afternoon, and Blaine didn't feel like fighting it. It wasn't like he had to go to bed early and get up early like he did back in the U.S., anyway. All his slots were scheduled for late afternoon or evening. As long as he was adjusted enough to feel awake and revived for those, it wouldn't matter if he slept when it was dark or light.

Besides, Blaine had something better to do than sleep.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, tiptoed into the bathroom, and shut the door. It was a nice bathroom, with walls covered floor to ceiling in large twenty- by forty-centimeter tiles like you’d find in a fancy hotel—way more posh than Blaine had ever seen in a normal Russian apartment. He wondered if the people who’d been kicked out of their homes to make way for the Olympic complex would move in here after the games were over, or if the luxe bathrooms would go empty and unused while people who could benefit from them languished in substandard housing.

Blaine hated the Olympics sometimes.

He checked his phone to see if Kurt’s final plane had landed in Sochi yet. No. It was still in the air, and with customs, he likely wouldn't arrive at his hotel for another couple hours at least.

Which gave Blaine time.

He composed a text.

Sebastian, I have an idea.

~~~

“Before you check in, I have good news and bad news,” Sebastian said when Kurt stepped into the lobby with his customs-cleared luggage and the strong desire to take his travel frustrations out on someone. He just wanted to see Blaine. And obviously he’d known Blaine wasn't going to be here because it was the middle of the night, and that was completely logical, especially because they weren't even technically boyfriends or anything yet, and Kurt hadn’t even known Blaine a few weeks ago so really he should be able to survive just fine another day without him, but also Blaine made everything lighter and better and more joyful and …

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Kurt said. He figured whatever the bad news was, it couldn't be that bad: Blaine was alive and healthy; they'd been sending each other flirty and suggestive texts about their mutual versatility just minutes before when Kurt had still been in taxi. “Why are you even awake?”

“I'm awake because I love the nightlife, and I like to boogie. Also, it can’t wait. You’re staying in my room.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well, it's a suite, technically. One door, two rooms. I'm being nice and giving you the bedroom with the door that actually closes.”

That was better than sharing a single room, or much worse, a bed. As long as the sheets had been changed since Sebastian had last used them. But— “I've been through four different airports in two days and you probably thought I was thrilled to be rerouted through Charles de Gaulle since I actually speak French, but in Munich they have sleeping pods you can rent, where in Paris it was just benches or the floor, and I missed my flight in Belgrade and the next one was late and they made me go through customs just so I could go to a hotel and shower and sleep in an actual bed for a few hours, and I’m starting to get a tiny grasp on Cyrillic but that doesn't really help when I don't actually know what any of the words mean, and I tried to sleep some more on the airplane to get adjusted to the new time zone but the turbulence was insane and also the person next to me was eating cayenne covered edamame even though they clearly couldn't handle the heat because they coughed every single time they swallowed and kept asking the flight attendant for more milk and water, so of course every time the seat belt lights went off they were climbing over me to get to the bathroom, seriously I don't understand how a four-hour flight can be so miserable but I hate people and I hate everyone and I'm supposed to have my own room.”

Sebastian smiled. He smiled. As if Kurt’s irritation was amusing. “Look, I'm not thrilled about this either. But somehow among the most expensive Olympic preparations the world has ever known, somebody forgot that the media would need housing too. All the hotels are overbooked. They gave your room to somebody else when you were flying over the Atlantic.”

“Fuck me.”

“No. But that brings me to the good news. Turn around.”

“Oh, yippee. A bar. I don't want a drink, Sebastian, I want— Blaine!"

Blaine was there, in the bar, smiling at him. Blaine. With his sparkling eyes and his hair that Kurt longed to touch and his beauty and kindness and generosity. He was real and physical and here. Kurt forgot that he hated everyone in the world and just wanted to be alone—or rather, a switch flicked inside of him and he no longer felt that way, because Blaine was a person and Blaine was beautiful and Kurt wanted to be with him. He abandoned his suitcase with the still-chattering Sebastian and almost ran across the lobby, his heart pounding from nerves and excitement and something that felt an awful lot like love and probably, in fact, was. No, not probably. Kurt had already known falling in love with Blaine would be inevitable. Here it was.

“Care to join me?” Blaine said, his expression radiant with hope and a little shyness. “I know you've had a long trip, so if not—”

“Of course I do,” Kurt said, sitting across the two-person table from Blaine and touching his shoe to Blaine’s. “It’s been too long.”

“Ahem.” That was Sebastian, holding on to Kurt’s suitcase and setting a keycard on the table. “I'm going back to the room for a minute anyway, so I guess I'll deliver your luggage there, Mr. Hummel. And then I'll be going out for a few hours. You know, in case that information is relevant to you.”

Blaine turned pink. It was precious. “Sebastian, you don't have to—”

“I have a life too, you know. I’ve made plans. The dance scene here is off the chain. The snowboarders know how to party, unlike some Olympians I know. Da svidania, boys.”

And then Sebastian was gone, and it was just the two of them, and Kurt wasn’t tired anymore.

#Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU #wowbright writes fic #december klaine fanworks challenge 2024 #day 14: busy #klaine fanfiction #my klaine advent

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