#i kind of love that i have a tag for that

[corkinavoid]

Or maybe they do wake Danny up once. Or, maybe they didn't wake him up, more like he was shuffling in his place, half-asleep, and one of the officers in the car went, "Do you think we should give him a blanket? I've got one in the trunk," and Danny froze.

Did they know he was here? Did they know all along?

He escapes without a trace that night, but after a few nights outside, he decides to risk it again. After all, no one seemed to be looking for him (GCPD was, actually, but very, very carefully as to not alert the Bats), and no white vans or GIW agents appear in the city, so, maybe it's okay?

He purposefully chooses a different car with different officers, and yet he still finds a blanket folded in the back and a few snacks. No note, nothing, just snacks, blanket, and the officers that don't turn around or address him even when he makes a few noises in the back - the wrapper of the chocolate bar they left for him is scrunchy.

So he stays. He still helps them out from time to time, and after a while, he even starts leaving notes - perks of being a ghost, he can sometimes talk to the deceased victims if their souls have not yet passed away.

GCPD fucking worships him. Commissioner Gordon eventually finds out (I think the officers tried to keep it on the down low, but after the notes started appearing, they couldn't really come up with a good enough excuse as to where they are getting the clues) and, after a few extensive talks with the most invested officers, he approaches the mysterious kid.

Not to reprimand or scold him, though. He writes a note for the ghost kid, asking if he could come to the morgue some time (because he figured a ghost could talk to the dead and that's way more productive than forensic science even if it doesn't provide as much solid evidence). Which is how Danny ends up with his own couch in the morgue - bizarre, yes, but he doesn't mind the cold and the dead bodies dont bother him (they are actually a little comforting, given his own state of being) and it's quiet and no one comes there without a good reason. He still sleeps in the back of the cop cars more often than not, but sometimes, he spends the night on the couch as well. It's softer.

And the whole GCPD keeps their mouths shut about him around the Bats. Thanks, but the local cryptid already has, like, a dozen kids. GCPD wants one of their own.

DPxDC Places To Sleep

I've seen many fics and prompts with Homeless Danny, and I've just had a thought: what's the safest place to sleep at night when you a) don't have a home, b) can turn intangible and invisible, and c) are not afraid of mortals' justice system since you're dead and it doesn't really apply to you?

Cop cars.

Cops patrol the streets at night, but really, they mostly just pick a place and stay there until something happens, right? (I mean, I think that's right, I'm not very educated on the matter)

So, say Danny is in Gotham, and he needs a place to sleep, but it's the most crime-ridden city in the world, and sleeping out in the streets is cold and uncomfortable. And sure, he can climb into any car, but he chooses the cop car because, first, it's got a radio, so if the cops get any alerts about him (you can't tell me that GIW wouldn't use the help of local police, they are government agents after all), he will hear it first. Second, it's warm and cozy and soft. Third, and the most important: no one is going to look for him there! It's like hiding in plain sight but even better.

Or, well, it is, until one night the cop car he is sleeping in gets dispatched to some crime scene along with about a dozen others, and it turns out to be some trafficking rink that got busted or whatnot, and there are a lot of people who need to be taken to the GCPD station. So Danny, sleepy and grumpy because he was suddenly woken up, searches for the first still running but empty car, while staying invisible and intangible, and when he finds it, he just crashes in the back seat.

He is very surprised a few minutes later when the motherfucking Batman jumps in the front seat, and at least three of his sidekicks are trying to squeeze themselves in the back.

The Bats are even more surprised when they find a random teenager flickering in and out of visibility in the back seat of Batmobile, his eyes wide as saucers and Lazarus green.

[menagerofmischief]

M4X

summary: after max wins his 4th title in vegas, you congratulate him in a special way in his driver's room

tags: pwp, kinda sub!max, semi public sex, blowjob, deep throating, I went a bit wild on use of "champion"

wc: 1.4k

a/n: do I have an exam tomorrow? yes! am I in the middle of writing a lando fic? also yes! but ever since the race ended I keep thinking about this so I had to write it.

You waited patiently, bounding on the balls of your feet as you gathered outside the RedBull garage alongside the employees, feeling like both your nerves and excitement were choking you up.

Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling when Max pulled the car up in front of the “champion” banner, tears brimming up in the corners of your eyes as you watched him get out of the car.

A quick pose for the picture and then he was pulling off his helmet and balaclava, eyes searching across the many faces in the crowd until they finally met yours. And then he was running, a smile on his face as he reached you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up to spin you around in joy, both of you laughing through choked sobs.

“You did it!” You said, your voice cracking. Max put you down, your feet now flat against the ground and you looked up at him, looping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to kiss you.

It was a desperate, passionate, raw and purely primal kind of kiss. The kind Max rarely allowed himself in public, but this was a special occasion. Open mouthed, his tongue stroking against your own, licking into your mouth desperately.

Finally the two of you pulled away, the loud cheers coming from the workers of RedBull filling your ears as everyone celebrated the win.

You part your lips, a breath coming out as your eyes meet with his and your lips twitch upwards into a smile. “Congratulations, champion.” You say, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Go celebrate!”

Max nodded, leaning in for another kiss, shorter this time, and then going down to greet the rest of the team and celebrate with them before heading to the cool down car.

Once all the formal celebrations and interviews were down, and everyone gave their congratulations, Max went to search for you.

A brief talk with one of the mechanics let him know you were waiting for him in his driver's room and he wasted no time in making his way over there.

He twisted the door, stepping into the room and his eyes immediately scanning the small space until they landed on you, sitting on top of his massage table with legs dangling down, wearing one of by now very spottable shirts in the RedBull garage, with his name. M4X.

"Do you like the shirt?" You ask with a laugh, pushing your chest out a bit to show him the logo.

He hums, making his way across the room and to you, one of his hands grabbing your chin and lifting up your head to kiss you. "Love it," he replies, lips brushing against your own with each word he speaks.

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back a bit, enough to give you space to jump down from the massage table. You circle around him, running your fingers along his shoulders and back.

“You looked so good today,” you purr in his ear, fingers grasping onto the zipper of his racing suit as you slowly start pulling it down. “A 4 time world champion. My world champion.”

Max groans at the words coming from your mouth and you take the moment to lean forward and press open mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck, licking against the spots you know are the most sensitive for him.

“Fuck, schatje.” He says, his voice coming out more as a broken whisper than what he intended.

You move your hands and start pushing down his race suit until it pools around his ankles and with just a second of effort he steps out of it, looking at you with wide eyes and pouty lips, almost as if begging for anything you want to give him, as long as it’s something.

“Go on and sit,” you tell him, gesturing towards one of the chairs in the room. For a second he’s completely still and you think maybe he hasn’t heard you but then he bolts towards the chair, practically tripping over his own two feet as he moves to sit down.

You pull down your pants and step out of them, the slightly colder Vegas air making goosebumps raise across the skin of your legs. You leave the shirt on, a pair of navy blue panties barely peeking out. 

Max takes in a deep breath as you sink down onto your knees in front of him. “Wait!” He says, and you still instantly, you’re about to ask what’s wrong when he gets up to grab his discarded racing suit and pulls you up just enough to slip the fabric under your knees before moving back into the chair. 

“Thank you, baby.” You smile at him, leaning forward and pressing kisses along the skin of his thigh, the muscles flexing due to him tensing up from your actions. “Now, I think my champion deserves a reward, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” Max says, his voice overly excited but you can’t blame him. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want.” You say, palming him over his boxers before sinking your fingers under the waistband. He lifts his hips in an effort to help you pull his boxers down and once you have them off you waste no time wrapping your hands around his already hard cock.

You slide your fingers over the slit, collecting the bits of precum that has already started leaking and using it as lube as you twist your hands down his dick. Max hisses, feeling pleasure overwhelm his senses as you lean forward, pressing a kiss onto the tip of his cock before opening your mouth and gently sucking on it.

Max’s moans are nearly pornographic, his cheeks flushed and lips open as moans and pleas slip past. You push your head further down, gliding your tongue along his length and pressing it just a bit against the vein running along the underside of his cock.

“You feel so good, schatje.” He says, his voice cracking. His hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulls it into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face.

He pushed your head down, not too rough, forcing you to take him deeper into your mouth until the tip is hitting the back of your throat and your nose is rubbing against his neatly trimmed base.

You hollow your cheeks around him, giving him a long suck before pulling your hair halfway up and then dropping it down again, gagging a little from the pressure at the back of your throat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel Max’s thighs tensing and slightly shaking as he approaches the edge of his orgasm, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightening. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He moans out, hips lifting off the chair as he thrusts his dick into your mouth, chasing the warmth around his dick. “So good, schatje, so good." Gonna make me cum.”

Encouraged by his words you speed up your movements, bobbing your head along his dick faster until you feel him twitch inside of you, and then filling your mouth with his hot cum. You pull off his slowly softening cock, letting it slip past your lips, and swallow.

You smile at him as you eye the mess on his cock and then teasingly lean back down to lick him clean. “You did so good baby,” you tell him, pressing your lips against his briefly as you go to stand up.

Max stands up, one of his knees buckling slightly, he leans down and grabs his boxers and pulls them up. “I didn’t get the podium today but this was so much better.” He says, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You laugh in response, pressing your lips against the palm of his hand. “Come on, champ, get dressed.” You say, the tone of your voice teasing. “We’re hitting the clubs tonight.”

“Or maybe I’ll be hitting your cervix tonight.”

A laugh slips past your lips, your tongue darting out to lick them. “Maybe after a few drinks and some dancing.”

[faebled-stories]

The Book of Forbidden Pleasures

Kinkvember Day 24: Tentacles/DubCon

Billlie's Fukutomi Tsuki

AN: the story is tagged tentacles but they are described more as appendages/limbs.

Also this story takes place in the same universe as the Karina story. While you don’t need to have read that one to enjoy this, there are a few references and cameos from the previous story. Enjoy 😉 💖

The rain drummed softly against the windowpane, a rhythmic lullaby that mirrored the exhaustion weighing on Tsuki’s every step as she pushed open the door to her shared dorm. Her shoulders sagged under the relentless pressure of hours spent perfecting choreography, each muscle in her body throbbing with the dull ache of overuse. Her mind felt clouded, worn thin by endless repetitions and sharp corrections that still echoed in her head.

With a tired sigh, Tsuki kicked off her sneakers, the soft thud of rubber against the floor blending seamlessly with the faint hum of quiet conversation drifting from one of the bedrooms. The voices were low and soothing, a distant reminder of her roommates’ presence. Yet the dorm itself felt still, untouched, offering Tsuki the comforting illusion of solitude.

She dropped her bag unceremoniously by the door, glancing around the dimly lit living space. The golden glow of late evening filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The couch called to her, its soft embrace promising a reprieve from the day’s demands. She was just about to collapse into it, letting her exhaustion take over, when a buzz in her pocket startled her.

Her phone.

Suppressing a faint flicker of irritation, Tsuki fumbled for the device, her fingers sluggish from fatigue. The brightness of the screen made her squint as she opened her notifications.

It was from Ningning, one of her closest friends.

“Hey Tsuki! Are you free to do me a huuuuge favor?”

Tsuki frowned, her thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. After the day she’d had, the last thing she wanted was to be roped into something she couldn’t say no to.

“Depends… what kind of favor?”

The reply came almost immediately, as if Ningning had been waiting, bubbles flickering on the screen before her next message popped up:

“Karina unnie asked me to house-sit for her while she’s away with her boyfriend, but I totally forgot my parents are coming to visit! Can you take over for a couple of days? pleeeaaasse.”

Tsuki exhaled a long, heavy sigh, letting her head fall back against the couch. Her rare free moments were precious, a reprieve from her relentless schedule that she guarded fiercely. Spending them house-sitting for someone else didn’t exactly sound like her idea of rest.

“I don’t know…”

She hadn’t even put her phone down when another message appeared, almost as if Ningning had anticipated her hesitation.

“Come ooon it's totally your vibe. It’s a really cool old house. You’d love it. Super aesthetic. I’ll buy you a meal for every day you stay. Please?”

Tsuki stared at the screen, the faint ache in her limbs tempting her to refuse outright. But the phrase “super aesthetic” sparked a small flicker of curiosity in her otherwise exhausted mind. She imagined it already—a house with charming quirks and old-world beauty, the kind of place she might dream about escaping to in her quieter moments.

With a resigned sigh, she typed back:

“Fine. Just for a couple of days, though.”

Almost instantly, her screen flooded with heart emojis, the animated reactions filling the chat with Ningning’s uncontainable excitement. Despite herself, Tsuki’s lips quirked upward into a faint smile, the warmth of her friend’s enthusiasm momentarily softening the fatigue clinging to her.

A few days later, Tsuki arrived at Karina’s house just as the morning rain began to subside. The heavy clouds lingered stubbornly in the sky, only partially allowing pale beams of sunlight to filter through. Her footsteps echoed softly as she stepped onto the wide porch, the wood beneath her shoes aged and weathered but polished by years of care. The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked ivy and faint traces of varnish, remnants of the house’s enduring upkeep.

She paused, taking in the sight of the house before her. It was even more striking than she had imagined. The red-brick façade was cloaked in ivy that twisted and curled with deliberate elegance, framing the arched windows like a living picture frame. Ornate wrought-iron railings lined the balcony above, their intricate patterns reminiscent of an older, more graceful time. The wide wooden door, its surface darkened with age and wear, stood as an imposing yet inviting gateway into a space that seemed steeped in history.

“This place is amazing,” Tsuki murmured to herself, her voice nearly lost in the soft rustle of ivy in the breeze.

The sound of the door creaking open startled her, and Ningning appeared, waving her inside with a bright grin. “Right?” Ningning said, stepping aside to let Tsuki in. “Unnie and her boyfriend are obsessed with it. It’s basically their dream house.” She adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder, gesturing for Tsuki to follow her.

As soon as Tsuki stepped inside, the house seemed to come alive around her. The distinct scent of lavender lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the sharper aroma of wood polish, like a memory etched into the house itself. Her gaze swept over the interior, taking in the dark wood railings of the staircase and the antique furniture arranged with effortless charm. The floors, polished to a muted shine, creaked gently underfoot, each sound a subtle reminder of the home’s age and character.

The house felt expansive yet intimate, its design inviting exploration while maintaining an air of quiet mystery. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, bathing the space in a golden haze that seemed to soften the edges of the walls and furniture. The intricate carvings on the staircase bannister and the subtle wear on the doorframes whispered of the countless lives and stories the house had witnessed over the years.

Ningning led her on a brisk tour, her voice light and cheerful as she pointed out the key areas of the house. “Here’s the kitchen—you probably won’t need it much, but everything’s labeled. Over there’s the sitting room, super cozy in the evenings. And down this hall is the guest bedroom. You’ll love it; it gets the best light in the mornings.”

Every room exuded a distinct personality, from the heavy curtains in the sitting room that softened the outside light to the mismatched yet harmonious furniture pieces that seemed carefully curated over time. The faint hum of the house settled around them, a low, almost imperceptible sound that only added to its allure.

They stopped near the staircase, where Tsuki’s gaze was immediately drawn to a narrow, unassuming door tucked discreetly into the hallway. It was plain compared to the rest of the house, with a slightly scuffed surface and a handle worn smooth by years of use. A faint draft escaped through the crack at its base, brushing against her legs and sending a chill up her spine.

Ningning adjusted the bag on her shoulder and gestured toward the door with a half-nervous smile. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said, her tone shifting slightly. “Don’t open this door, okay? Like, seriously, just… leave it alone.”

Tsuki tilted her head, her curiosity instantly piqued. “Why not?” she asked, her voice cautious yet intrigued.

Ningning hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the door as if wary it might open on its own. “Jimin unnie told me not to mess with it. She was super firm about it, and honestly? I didn’t ask. She seemed… weird about it. I think it creeps her out or something.” She let out a nervous laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, everything else is fine. Just keep the plants alive and, you know, make sure the place doesn’t burn down. Easy stuff.”

Tsuki nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on the door for a moment longer. The faint draft continued to slip through the gap, cool and insistent, stirring something she couldn’t quite place. But Ningning’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Come on,” Ningning said, her grin brightening as she motioned toward the main part of the house. “Let me show you where Karina keeps all the good snacks.”

With a final glance at the door, Tsuki followed Ningning down the hall. But even as Ningning chatted away, her words breezy and light, Tsuki couldn’t shake the faint, magnetic pull of the small, unassuming door.

Ningning’s voice was light and casual as she led Tsuki on a whirlwind tour, pointing out the essentials: the kitchen, the cozy living room with its well-loved sofa, and the guest bedroom. The house had a lived-in warmth to it, with soft rugs and mismatched furniture that seemed carefully chosen for comfort rather than style. Yet, beneath its charm, Tsuki couldn’t help but notice a subtle weight in the air, a quiet stillness that felt just a little too thick.

“Okay, that’s pretty much it,” Ningning said with a grin as they stopped near the staircase. “It’s an easy gig, really—just make sure the plants don’t die and, you know, no fires or anything.”

Tsuki chuckled softly, nodding as she glanced around the dim hallway. Her gaze flickered briefly to the narrow door tucked near the staircase, but Ningning quickly pulled her attention back.

“Oh, right,” Ningning said as they paused in front of another door. She gestured toward it with her free hand, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. “This is the master bedroom. Karina unnie left a checklist on the kitchen counter—watering the plants in here is on it. She’s super into her plants, so don’t skip it, okay?”

“Got it,” Tsuki replied with a small smile, though her curiosity lingered as she glanced at the door.

Ningning gave a playful wink. “Well, that’s everything! Seriously, Tsuki, thanks for doing this. You’re a lifesaver. I owe you big-time.”

Tsuki grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Don’t forget that when we go out to eat. I’m ordering the whole menu.”

Ningning laughed, shaking her head as she adjusted her bag one last time. “Fair enough. Just don’t bankrupt me, okay? See you soon!”

With that, Ningning headed out, the faint sound of the door clicking shut echoing through the house. Silence settled in, broken only by the soft rustle of the curtains as a gentle breeze drifted through the open window.

-----

Later that day, Tsuki stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, the faint light of late afternoon spilling through the sheer curtains. The room was neatly arranged, with an ornate wooden bed frame and matching furniture that gave the space an elegant, timeless feel.

In the corner, a collection of lush green plants thrived on a wooden stand near the window. Their leaves glistened faintly in the sunlight, a watering can sitting beside them like a waiting companion. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the plants, subtle and soothing.

Tsuki stepped inside, the floor creaking softly underfoot as she approached the plants. The quiet was profound, broken only by the sound of her footsteps and the soft clink of the watering can as she picked it up.

She crouched down, pouring water into the pots with careful precision, watching as the soil absorbed the moisture. The faint, earthy scent of damp soil mingled ever-present in the air, creating a soothing, almost hypnotic atmosphere. Her mind wandered absently, the rhythmic flow of water from the can lulling her into a quiet, unfocused state.

It was peaceful—too peaceful, Tsuki realized, as the quiet began to press on her, heavy and unsettling. Straightening up, she turned toward the next plant, her thoughts scattered, when her gaze landed on the far corner of the room—and she froze.

A figure sat in the shadows, perfectly still. Long, dark hair spilled over its slim shoulders, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

A scream tore from Tsuki’s throat, sharp and raw, shattering the fragile silence of the house. She stumbled backward, her foot catching on the edge of the rug, and she crashed to the floor with a jarring thud. The watering can slipped from her hand, clattering loudly as water splashed across the polished floorboards, the sound echoing in the oppressive stillness.

She sat there, chest heaving, her palms pressed against the cool wood for balance as her wide eyes remained locked on the figure. The adrenaline surged through her veins, making her limbs feel heavy and numb all at once.

“Unnie?” she called out instinctively, her voice trembling and hoarse. The word hung in the air, unanswered.

The figure didn’t move. The house remained eerily quiet, broken only by the faint drip of water pooling from the overturned can.

Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts as the initial wave of panic ebbed, replaced by an unsettling confusion. She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the rug and pushed herself upright. Her legs wobbled beneath her, the distance between her and the shadowy figure stretching impossibly wide and yet impossibly close.

Step by cautious step, she approached, her movements deliberate, her senses on high alert. The sunlight streaming through the window did little to banish the heavy shadows pooling in the corner, and as she drew nearer, the truth revealed itself.

It wasn’t Karina.

It was a doll.

A life-sized, eerily realistic doll, seated upright in an antique chair as though it had been posed with meticulous care.

Tsuki’s throat tightened as she took in the details. Its face was hauntingly lifelike, the craftsmanship unnervingly perfect. Softly flushed cheeks, delicately curved lips, and closed eyes framed by long, dark lashes gave it an uncanny resemblance to Karina. The resemblance was so striking it sent a shiver down Tsuki’s spine.

The doll wore a pale lavender dress, its fabric faded with age but pristine in condition. The lace trim at the edges was slightly frayed, but it only added to the unsettling authenticity. The faint lavender scent that clung to the house felt stronger now, as though it emanated from the doll itself.

“It looks so real…” Tsuki murmured, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. “Like a wax statue, but…”

She hesitated, leaning closer, her fingers twitching at her sides as she fought the instinct to reach out and touch it. The texture of its skin caught her eye—it didn’t have the rigidity of wax. The surface appeared soft, pliable even, as though it might yield under pressure. The thought made her stomach twist.

The doll’s serene expression was too perfect, too intentional. It felt less like an inanimate object and more like a figure quietly observing her, its stillness unnerving in a way she couldn’t articulate. The longer she stared, the smaller the room seemed to feel, the air thickening with an unseen tension.

A sharp creak from the hallway broke the moment. Tsuki jumped, spinning around so quickly her knee bumped the edge of the chair. Her heart leapt into her throat, her wide eyes darting toward the open doorway.

Nothing. Just the house settling.

Her hand flew to her chest as she exhaled shakily, forcing her nerves to settle. “Get it together,” she muttered, glancing back at the doll.

The oppressive sensation of its presence still lingered. She crouched quickly, grabbing the watering can and finishing her task in rushed, clumsy movements. Each time she glanced over her shoulder, the doll was still there, perfectly posed, perfectly still. But that didn’t stop the irrational sense that it might spring to life at any moment.

When the last pot was watered, Tsuki stood and turned toward the door. She hesitated, the weight of the room pressing on her shoulders as her gaze flickered back to the doll one last time. The quiet lavender-scented air wrapped around her like a whisper, the moment hanging heavy and strange.

Her eyes lingered on the doll’s face. Its resemblance to Karina was so uncanny, so eerily perfect, that a strange reflex stirred within her. Without thinking, she dipped her head in a small, polite bow—a gesture born out of respect, habit, and the unsettling feeling that she was in the presence of someone, rather than something.

Straightening, she let out a faint, self-conscious laugh, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. “Why am I bowing to a doll?” she muttered under her breath, the absurdity of the moment making her shake her head.

With a final glance at the serene, unblinking face of the doll, she stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. The faint click of the latch echoed in the quiet hallway, but the weight of the doll’s presence lingered. As she walked down the corridor, its expression, its stillness, its unnerving presence—it was burned into her mind. And with every step, the unease that clung to her chest only grew heavier, like a shadow she couldn’t escape.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the house had settled into an eerie quiet. The golden hues of the late afternoon gave way to muted blues and grays, the darkness creeping into every corner as night took hold.

The guest bedroom offered a welcome reprieve, its modest furnishings a comforting contrast to the grandeur of the rest of the house. Tsuki sat on the edge of the neatly made bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft, elongated shadows on the walls. The weight of the day pressed down on her like a heavy blanket, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had built up over hours of unease.

The unique house scent seemed to follow her everywhere, clinging to her like a whisper. It hung in the air as she slipped under the covers, the crisp linens cool against her skin. She shifted restlessly, her thoughts unable to shake the memory of the doll’s lifelike features and the quiet, oppressive atmosphere of the master bedroom.

She closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. The creaks and groans of the old house kept her awake, their rhythm too deliberate to be random. Each sound seemed to carry meaning, like a whispered message just beyond her comprehension.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, pulling her into a restless sleep. Her dreams were fleeting and fragmented—shadows stretching across long hallways, faint whispers just out of reach, and always that door near the staircase, standing in the periphery of her mind. She woke suddenly in the early hours of the morning, her heart pounding as though she’d been running, though she couldn’t remember why.

For the next few days, she resumed her duties, going through the checklist Karina had left. Watering plants, checking windows, tidying rooms—simple tasks that should have kept her grounded. Yet, no matter how diligently she worked, she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was… watching.

Her steps became slower as she passed the basement door. The plain, unremarkable panel tucked near the staircase seemed to hum with an unspoken energy. She dismissed it at first, chalking it up to her imagination or the creaks of the old house. But as the days went on, the pull became stronger.

Whenever she neared the door, she felt it—a faint tug, like invisible fingers brushing against her chest, guiding her closer. At times, it was barely noticeable, a whisper at the edge of her awareness. Other times, it was almost overwhelming, making her pause mid-step as her hand drifted toward the handle without her realizing.

Then there was the sound.

It started as a faint rhythm, almost too soft to notice. A deep, steady thrum that seemed to rise from the floorboards themselves. At first, she thought it was her own heartbeat, quickened by the tension that gripped her whenever she passed the door. But as she stood there one afternoon, frozen with her ear tilted toward the frame, she realized it didn’t match the rhythm pounding in her chest.

It was something else.

The sound was faint but persistent, a slow and deliberate beat, like the pulse of something alive hidden beneath the house. She stepped back, shaking her head as if to clear it. “It’s just the pipes or something,” she muttered to herself, her voice thin and uncertain.

But the sound didn’t stop.

That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the silence of the house pressed in around her. The pull toward the basement door was stronger than ever, an invisible tether pulling at her thoughts, making her skin prickle with unease. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to ignore it.

By the next day, it was unbearable. Every time she passed the door, the thrum seemed louder, the pull more insistent. She found herself standing before it without realizing, her fingers brushing the cold handle. She yanked her hand back, her breath quickening as Ningning’s words rang in her ears: Don’t open this door.

But the warning wasn’t enough to keep her away.

Tsuki hesitated, Ningning’s earlier warning echoing in her mind. But something about the door pulled at her, a quiet insistence that she couldn’t ignore. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and stepped inside.

The stairs creaked beneath her as Tsuki descended into the basement, each step groaning under her weight, the sound sharp against the oppressive silence. The air grew cooler with every step, brushing against her skin like an unseen presence. A faint metallic tang mingled with the musty scent of old, forgotten things, and each breath she took felt heavier than the last.

At the bottom of the stairs, the dim space opened before her, cloaked in shadow and illuminated only by a single, flickering bulb that cast a weak, uneven light. Dust motes danced lazily in the air she’d disturbed, their slow movement amplifying the room’s stillness. The quiet was suffocating, as if the house itself had stopped breathing.

Shelves lined the walls, sagging under the weight of jars filled with murky substances. Some were capped with rusted lids, others empty but for a faint residue clinging to their interiors. The objects scattered among them were strange and unidentifiable—trinkets that seemed as though they belonged to a world just outside her understanding.

In the center of the room stood a large wooden table, its surface surprisingly clean amidst the surrounding layers of dust. The smooth, worn edges hinted at its age, while the faint outline of a rectangular shape in the dust suggested something had been there recently. The table dominated the space, drawing her gaze like a magnet.

The room felt untouched, frozen in time, but the table’s pristine condition made it feel out of place, as if waiting for something—or someone. Her fingers brushed the edge of the wood, and a shiver raced through her as the strange pull she’d felt earlier surged within her, stronger now.

Her gaze wandered back to the shelves, landing on a single book nestled among the clutter. Its dark leather cover seemed to glow faintly, the intricate silver filigree embossed into its surface shimmering as though alive in the flickering light.

She took a step closer, her breath quickening as her hand reached for the book. The leather felt unexpectedly warm under her trembling fingers, and the moment she touched it, a low hum vibrated through her palms, resonating softly in the still air.

Turning slowly, she noticed an old wooden chair tucked into the corner of the room. Dust stirred as she brushed it off, sending a faint puff into the cool air. It creaked softly as she sat, cradling the book in her lap, the hum growing louder with every second.

Tsuki hesitated, her fingers tracing the embossed designs on the cover. Taking a breath to steady herself, she opened it. The first page greeted her with intricate symbols, their swirling shapes shimmering faintly as if they held a life of their own. The text was unfamiliar, yet something about it stirred a flicker of recognition deep within her, as though she’d seen it in a dream she couldn’t quite remember.

As she turned the brittle, crackling pages, the air around her grew colder, pressing against her skin. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the macabre contents: meticulously penned spells and rituals, their elegant strokes intertwining with illustrations that seemed to shift and writhe under the dim light. The drawings were both haunting and mesmerizing—dark figures entangled in rituals of power, surrounded by arcane symbols that shimmered faintly with a sinister allure.

The book felt alive in her hands, the brittle paper exuding an unnatural warmth that prickled against her fingers. The room’s shadows seemed to deepen, pressing closer, as though drawn by the energy radiating from the tome.

“This has to be some kind of elaborate antique—or a stupid movie prop,” Tsuki muttered, her voice barely breaking the oppressive silence. The words sounded hollow to her ears, and the static-like prickle along her arms only heightened her unease. She tried to ignore how the symbols on the page glimmered whenever her eyes shifted, the intricate patterns teasing the edges of her vision.

Her eyes were drawn to ornate runes etched faintly into the margins of the pages, their curling shapes seeming to beg to be spoken. She didn’t know why, but her lips began to move, forming the unfamiliar words before she could stop herself.

The first syllable escaped hesitantly, hanging in the still air like a fragile thread. The second came more easily, flowing into the third, her voice rising in a rhythm that echoed softly against the basement walls.

As the final word slipped from her lips, the house seemed to exhale. Outside, the rain surged, pounding against the brick walls with renewed force. A sudden crash of thunder shook the foundation beneath her feet, and the light from the single bulb flickered violently, casting erratic, jittering shadows that danced across the walls.

The hum from the book intensified, vibrating through her hands and into her chest, as though the very air around her were alive, pulsing with the same energy as the tome in her lap.

The air thickened with an oppressive charge, an energy that seemed to ripple through her very bones. A sickly-sweet scent—like decaying fruit laced with a metallic tang—filled the room, overwhelming her senses. She gagged, her stomach churning as a low, guttural groan reverberated from somewhere deep within the dark corners of the basement.

Tsuki froze, her breath caught in her throat as her wide eyes darted toward the shadows just beyond the flickering light. Something was moving. The darkness itself seemed to ripple and writhe, its edges shifting as though it were alive. Her legs trembled, her body screaming for her to flee, but she couldn’t move, rooted in place by a fear so primal it felt as though it had wrapped around her soul.

The book in her lap began to pulse, its vibration growing stronger, more insistent, and a faint glow seeped from its pages, casting eerie patterns onto her hands. Her breath hitched as she saw it—a slick, glistening tendril slowly snaking its way out from between the yellowed pages.

A strangled cry burst from her lips as she flung the book away from her, her hands trembling violently. The tome landed with a heavy thud on the floor, its cover flapping open. For a moment, silence returned, the room holding its breath—but then the glow intensified, and the tendril continued to emerge, undeterred.

Tsuki scrambled back, her wide eyes fixed on the book as more appendages slithered forth, inky black and glistening wetly in the dim light. They moved with a terrible, unnatural grace, twisting and curling as though tasting the air. Their presence was suffocating, an affront to the space itself, and the oppressive energy in the room deepened, vibrating through her chest and setting her teeth on edge.

The air around her grew colder, thickening with a density that made it hard to breathe. She watched in horror as the appendages spilled onto the polished floor, their slick surfaces reflecting the faint glow of the book’s pulsing light.

Her scream caught in her throat a large one lashed out with terrifying speed. It wrapped around her ankle like a living vise, its texture alien—slick yet warm, pulsing faintly against her skin. A shuddering wave of revulsion coursed through her, but to her horror, so did something else: a strange, electric thrill that clashed violently with the primal terror gripping her heart.

“Let me go!” she gasped, her voice trembling as she thrashed against the sinuous limb. But her struggles only seemed to strengthen its grip, pulling her closer to the book.

The room seemed to shrink around her, the shelves and shadows pressing closer as though the space itself had come alive. The light from the flickering bulb dimmed further, replaced by the book’s eerie glow, which had grown impossibly bright.

A crimson sheen materialized at the edges of the doorframe, faintly luminous, as though painted by an unseen hand. It shimmered with a rhythmic pulse, synchronized with the thrumming energy radiating from the book. Tsuki’s eyes darted toward it, her chest tightening as she realized it wasn’t just light—it was a barrier.

The shimmering red aura stretched across the doorframe, sealing her inside. It seemed alive, pulsing and flickering as though aware of her. She screamed again, but the sound was swallowed by the air itself, the barrier promising absolute secrecy. No one would hear her cries, and no one would come.

The appendages tightened their grip, the largest curling upward to brush against her trembling hand. It was as though the book itself was alive, its energy thrumming with hunger, pulling her deeper into its inescapable hold. Tsuki’s mind raced, a storm of emotions churning within her—fear, confusion, and a flickering, inexplicable pull toward the power suffusing the air around her.

“No! Stop!” she cried, her voice raw with desperation as she twisted against the tendrils wrapped around her ankle. The slick surface of it pulsed faintly, their warmth a shocking contrast to the cold fear gripping her chest. Her thrashing only seemed to fuel the energy swirling around her, the room alive with an invisible force that crackled against her skin.

With a sinuous motion, two more appendages slithered from the shadows, their glossy surfaces catching the faint light as they coiled around her wrists. The grip was firm yet unhurried, lifting her effortlessly from the ground and suspending her in the charged air above the glowing tome.

Tsuki gasped, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as she writhed in their hold. Her limbs trembled with exertion, her mind screaming for her to fight harder, to escape. Yet with each movement, the tendrils seemed to tighten, cradling her with an unnerving precision that made her struggles feel insignificant.

As the seconds stretched into eternity, a foreign sensation began to spread through her, igniting a strange heat in her core. The tendrils moved with deliberate slowness, their touch almost exploratory as they brushed against her exposed skin.

One of the tendrils slithered closer, its movements fluid and deliberate, like a predator assessing its prey. Tsuki flinched, her breath hitching as it hovered near her face, the faint shimmer of its slick surface catching the dim light. She turned her head away instinctively, her lips pressed tightly together, but the tendril moved with an eerie precision, brushing against her cheek with a warmth that sent her skin tingling.

“No…” she whispered, her voice trembling as the tendril’s tip traced the line of her jaw. The scent in the room grew thicker, suffusing the air with its intoxicating sweetness. It seemed to dull her resistance, the tension in her shoulders loosening even as her mind screamed at her to fight.

The tendril pressed lightly against her lips, and for a moment, she held her breath, clenching her mouth shut. But the pulsing warmth and insistent pressure became unbearable, and her resolve wavered. A gasp escaped her, her lips parting slightly, and it slipped inside with unsettling ease.

The texture was slick and alien, its presence invasive yet strangely gentle as it curled against her tongue. Tsuki gagged slightly, her body jerking in reflexive protest, but the appendage didn’t retreat. Instead, a faint warmth spread from where it touched, a strange, electric heat that seeped into her muscles and unfurled through her chest.

A faint hum resonated through her, vibrating softly against her skin as the tendril pulsed, releasing something she couldn’t identify. The effect was immediate—her body grew lighter, the tension in her limbs dissipating as a wave of heat pooled low in her abdomen.

Her head swam, the oppressive sweetness in the air blending with the warmth spreading through her, clouding her thoughts and softening her panic. Her lips tingled where it touched, the sensation lingering even as it withdrew, leaving her mouth empty and her breaths shallow.

Tsuki gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her fear remained, but it was now tangled with something deeper, something unfamiliar yet impossible to ignore. Her body felt alive in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying, every nerve alight with sensation.

Before she could regain her composure, another tendril brushed against her arm, its slick surface gliding over her skin with a maddening slowness. Her pulse quickened, her body trembling as the warmth within her grew stronger, fanning into an insistent heat.

Her skirt was pushed upwards with an almost sentient deliberateness, the cool air brushing against her exposed thighs. The intimacy of the act sent a flush of mortification through her, her thoughts racing with conflicting emotions. The alien limb seemed to know her body in ways she could not comprehend, their movements unhurried but insistent, exploring her as though tracing a map only they could see.

“No… stop…” Tsuki whispered, her voice shaking with both fear and shame. The words felt powerless, swallowed by the oppressive stillness of the room. Her mind screamed at her to fight harder, to resist, but her body betrayed her. A faint, forbidden warmth coiled deep within her, a treacherous response that made her feel as though the book’s influence was seeping into her very soul.

The first appendage, slick and pulsating faintly, brushed against her inner thigh, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left her trembling. It found her center, pressing lightly against her most intimate place with a surreal precision that felt invasive and deeply wrong. Yet, to her growing horror, the contact ignited a spark within her—a sensation she couldn’t explain, one that clashed violently with the revulsion knotting her stomach.

“Please… don’t…” Tsuki’s voice was barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with desperation. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she writhed against the tendrils, her struggles weak and futile. Yet, her protests faltered when an involuntary moan escaped her lips—a low, shameful sound that startled her with its rawness. It betrayed the turmoil within her, a storm she could neither deny nor suppress.

The tendril pressed further, its warmth a mirror of the growing heat coiling deep within her. Her body’s treacherous response filled her with shame, the telltale dampness between her thighs answering the intrusion even as she squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the sensations. But it was impossible. The relentless tide of sensation swelled within her, drowning every rational thought beneath its rising waves.

As it explored with agonizing precision, others joined, their slick movements leaving trails of warmth and wetness along her exposed skin. Two curled around her heaving chest, their sinuous motions too deliberate to be accidental. Tsuki gasped as they wrapped around her breasts, their touch firm yet teasing, as though savoring the curves beneath their grasp.

They squeezed gently at first, testing her with rhythmic pulses that seemed to synchronize with her erratic heartbeat. Her nipples, already sensitive from the cool air, hardened under their touch. She bit her lip as one tendril tightened around a peak, the friction maddening as it tugged and teased with deliberate pressure. The slick texture of the appendage sent jolts of sensation straight to her core, each movement stoking the forbidden fire growing within her.

Tsuki’s body trembled, her breaths shallow and uneven as the sensations pushed her closer to the edge of reason. Shame burned in her chest, a searing reminder of how deeply her body had betrayed her. But beneath the shame was a bloom of arousal that defied her terror, growing stronger with every passing moment.

The appendage probing her most intimate place pressed deeper, its girth stretching her in ways she had never experienced. The sensation was overwhelming, teetering on the edge of pain yet blooming into a twisted pleasure that left her gasping. Her hips twitched involuntarily, her body reacting with a primal abandon that made her heart pound even harder.

The room around her blurred, fading into a whirl of shadows and flickering crimson light. The oppressive energy thickened, cocooning her in an isolating warmth that felt both suffocating and oddly comforting. The tome below her pulsed with an eerie, sickly glow, its pages fluttering as if alive, feeding on the maelstrom of emotion coursing through her.

Tsuki’s mind was a battlefield, torn between the instinct to escape and the dark, insidious allure of the magic enveloping her. Her thoughts fragmented, unable to form coherent resistance against the unrelenting onslaught of sensation. Each wave of pleasure crashed over her, stronger than the last, until the rational part of her mind began to fade.

Her toes curled, her back arching involuntarily as the sensations pushed her further toward the brink. A silent scream built in her throat, a raw sound that was equal parts anguish and ecstasy. Every nerve in her body felt alive, her muscles trembling under the weight of an experience so intense it defied her understanding.

As her consciousness frayed, the monstrous presence above her became clearer. its sinewy appendages glistening with an otherworldly sheen. It moved with a terrifying grace, its power undeniable as it plunged into her with an intensity that left her gasping.

The rhythm of its movements was overwhelming, a carnal dance that blurred the line between dominance and submission. Tsuki’s hips moved instinctively, bucking against the relentless assault as her body betrayed her once again. She couldn’t stop the way her core clenched around the intruding tendrils, her body grasping at them with a desperation that left her mind reeling.

The friction built with maddening precision, each thrust a crescendo of sensation that grew stronger, deeper. The heat in her core spiraled outward, consuming her as the storm within her reaches its peak. Tsuki’s mind splintered, caught between horror and exhilaration as the relentless onslaught pushed her closer to a release that she both dreaded and craved.

The tendrils, acting with a sentience all their own, twisted and writhed within her, exploring the depths of her most intimate places with an unsettling precision. Each movement seemed attuned to her every gasp, moan, and trembling shudder, adjusting their rhythm and pressure as though playing a symphony on her body. Every note resonated with her deepest desires, drawing out the pleasure buried in the darkest corners of her being.

Her body felt like a foreign entity, no longer under her control but an instrument in the hands of a masterful puppeteer. Each thrust, each twist of the tendrils, sent ripples of sensation coursing through her, building a crescendo that pulled her further into a sea of rapture. Tsuki’s thoughts, fragmented and fleeting, were lost amidst the overwhelming tide of sensation. She was helpless, suspended in a reality where time, fear, and reason had ceased to matter.

Her vision blurred, the world around her fading into insignificance as she climbed higher, propelled toward a peak that shimmered just beyond her reach. Every thrust, every deliberate motion of them pushed her closer, sending her spiraling upward into a stratosphere of ecstasy she had never dared imagine.

The monster’s relentless rhythm became her entire existence, a singular, primal focus that consumed her. Her breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, each one a desperate attempt to ground herself against the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her. Her heart pounded in her chest like a frantic drumbeat, echoing the cadence of the creature’s movements, synchronizing with the primal, unrelenting rhythm.

As if sensing the growing tension within her, the tendrils adjusted their pace, their grip tightening as they moved with an intensity that defied human comprehension. They teased her with unrelenting precision, their slick surfaces sliding against her hypersensitive skin, coaxing her closer to the precipice. The overwhelming sensations threatened to break her apart, pulling at every fiber of her being.

Her body trembled violently, each thrust driving her closer to release. The tendrils pulsed with a heat that seemed to flow directly into her, igniting a fire deep within her core. Tsuki’s hips moved involuntarily, bucking against the onslaught, meeting the relentless force with a desperation that shocked even her.

“Oh, gods,” she panted, her voice a broken whisper lost amidst the wet, rhythmic sounds of their motion. “It’s… it’s so deep… I can’t… I can’t…”

Her words trailed into a strangled cry as the first wave of climax overtook her, shattering her remaining composure. It was as though every nerve in her body had been set aflame, an all-encompassing conflagration of pleasure that consumed her from the inside out. The tendrils, slick with her arousal, plunged into her depths with renewed vigor, their undulations sending shockwaves through her veins.

Her mind shattered into fragments of sensation and sound, each moment eclipsing the last in intensity. “Yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Please, don’t ever stop!” she begged, her voice a ragged mixture of delirium and surrender. Her fingers clawed uselessly at the air, seeking purchase on something—anything—tangible, as the unrelenting onslaught overwhelmed her senses.

The creature, whether driven by primal instinct or some malevolent intelligence, seemed to respond to her pleas. Its tendrils moved with a deliberate precision that suggested an endless capacity for this relentless assault, each motion calculated to drive her deeper into a state of unending bliss.

Tsuki’s climax stretched on, a cascade of ecstasy that defied comprehension. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was transcendence, a complete dissolution of self into the pure, unfiltered sensation. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her body trembling as the boundaries between pain and pleasure, fear and desire, dissolved entirely.

“I love it… I love it so much,” she moaned, her voice barely audible yet resonating with a depth that betrayed her total surrender. The words tumbled from her lips unbidden, a raw confession that left her trembling.

Tsuki’s body convulsed, the sheer power of the release unlike anything she had ever known. It felt as though every muscle in her body had been electrified, her nerves alight with a searing, unrelenting pleasure that coursed through her like molten fire. Her back arched violently, her limbs trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her, each more overwhelming than the last.

The sensations were a storm, a cacophony of raw, primal bliss that left her gasping for air. Her vision blurred, her eyes fluttering shut as stars exploded behind her eyelids, bright and dazzling against the crimson haze of the room. Time lost meaning, each second stretching into eternity as her body trembled on the edge of unraveling completely.

Her breaths came in frantic, broken bursts, her chest heaving as if she’d been submerged underwater and was only now surfacing for air. The relentless pulsing of the appendage kept her hovering on the brink, her cries blending into the rhythmic thrum of the magic that filled the room. Her hands clawed helplessly at the ground, her fingers digging into the polished wood in search of some anchor, some way to tether herself to reality amidst the torrent of sensation.

The peak of her climax hit like a tidal wave, slamming into her with a force that left her utterly powerless. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her body seizing as a flood of heat coursed through her, radiating outward from her core to every inch of her trembling frame. The pleasure was absolute, consuming her entirely, as though her very essence had been dissolved into the maelstrom.

Her heart thundered in her chest, its frantic rhythm echoing in her ears as the relentless pleasure stretched her to her limits. Her body burned, the heat of the moment fusing with the lingering warmth of the tendrils that held her captive, coaxing her to surrender completely. Every nerve, every cell, seemed to hum with an intoxicating energy, pushing her beyond the confines of physical sensation into something far more profound.

When the final waves began to subside, they left her trembling, her body wracked with aftershocks that rippled through her in diminishing pulses. The edges of the world blurred, her mind floating in a haze of exhaustion and disbelief. Slowly, they released their grip, letting her crumple bonelessly onto the ground.

Her body was slick with sweat, her skin flushed and glistening as she lay there, utterly spent. Her limbs refused to move, trembling faintly as though even the smallest effort was beyond her reach. The air around her was thick with the remnants of the energy that had consumed her, the faint hum of the magic in the tome a distant echo now.

Tsuki’s breaths came in slow, ragged bursts, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to recover. Her mind was blank, emptied of thought save for the echo of what she had just experienced. The pleasure still lingered in her veins, a phantom warmth that pulsed faintly in the aftermath, leaving her dazed and disoriented.

Her voice unfurled into the charged air, cutting through the stillness like a blade honed to perfection. The sound was raw, unrestrained, and so utterly human amidst the otherworldly backdrop. Her breath hitched, each gasp a testament to the shock and disbelief coursing through her. How could it be that, even after the tempest of sensations that had claimed her, she yearned for more?

"More… I need more! Please!" The words tumbled from her lips, unbidden and unfiltered, their weight pressing heavily into the space around her. Each syllable carried a desperation that was startling in its clarity, echoing through the stone walls of the chamber. The cold, unyielding surfaces seemed to absorb her cries, amplifying them into a haunting chorus that reverberated back to her as though the very room shared her longing.

She was consumed—utterly, completely. Her body no longer felt like her own, her mind adrift in a sea of sensations and emotions she could barely comprehend. The intoxicating grip of the creature’s presence had become an addiction, a force that seeped into every corner of her being. What had started as resistance had crumbled beneath the relentless tide of pleasure, leaving only this raw, unquenchable hunger that bound her to it in a pact she couldn’t, wouldn’t break.

It wasn’t just desire; it was something deeper, something primal and profound. With every passing moment, the lines separating her humanity and the creature’s ethereal nature blurred, dissolving into a haze of need and shared satisfaction. She no longer feared the loss of control—she welcomed it, craved it. The sensations transcended the physical, reaching into her very soul and pulling forth a truth she hadn’t dared to face: that this wasn’t just an assault on her body; it was a revelation of her most secret self.

Her voice rose again, filling the cavernous space with a fervor that seemed to draw the room itself into the throes of her transformation. It wasn’t a mere plea now—it was a declaration, an offering, a submission. The creature responded in kind, its movements unhurried yet deliberate, each touch carrying a weight that seemed to acknowledge her surrender.

The tendrils moved with an unsettling grace, their sinewy, cool surfaces coiling around her trembling frame as though choreographed. They encircled her limbs with deliberate precision, leaving no part of her untouched. Her arms were drawn firmly behind her back, her wrists bound together in a grip that was unyielding but not painful.

Her legs, guided with the same calculated care, were lifted and folded gracefully over her head, her knees brushing her shoulders as the tendrils positioned her into an impossibly flexible pose. The deep stretch pressed her body into a posture that felt both exposing and strangely reverent, the creature’s control molding her into a display of total surrender. Every inch of her was held aloft, suspended in midair, her form completely bared to the creature’s touch.

The tension in her body began to dissolve under the tendrils’ firm yet careful guidance. Her initial struggle gave way to a sense of weightless peace, a paradoxical comfort in being so thoroughly restrained. Suspended and bound, the vulnerability of her position was undeniable, but so was the strange intimacy of the creature’s control.

“Please…” she murmured, her voice trembling as her head tilted back, her flushed cheeks brushing against her folded knees. Her lips parted, her breath shallow and uneven as her eyes fluttered shut. “Take me. Use me. I’m yours.”

The words spilled from her unbidden, raw and unfiltered, carrying the weight of her submission. They hung in the air, trembling with an almost sacred longing, and the tendrils seemed to react, tightening around her slightly, as if acknowledging her surrender.

Her body quivered as the creature moved in response, the tendrils gliding along her exposed skin with a purpose that felt both methodical and intimate. The cool, sinewy appendage brushed along her thighs and the curve of her back, exploring her as though she were something fragile yet infinitely valuable.

“I need it,” she whispered, her tone barely audible yet thick with desperation. Each word carried an urgency that echoed in the charged air around her. “All of me… I want you to take everything.”

Her breathing quickened as the tendrils adjusted their hold, their movements becoming more deliberate, more intimate. The sensation of their exploration sent waves of warmth coursing through her bound form, each touch lighting a fire that spread through her in dizzying waves.

“You feel so… so good,” she gasped, her voice breaking as the overwhelming sensations consumed her. “Please… I want more… I need more.”

The tendrils moved with an unnerving awareness, their sinuous forms gliding over her trembling body as though they could sense her every thought, her every unspoken desire. Each caress seemed purposeful, teasing the edges of her mind and coaxing her deeper into the blissful haze that had overtaken her. The cool, slick texture of the tendrils against her heated skin created an intoxicating contrast, heightening her sensitivity with every passing moment.

Tsuki could feel them responding to her, their movements shifting and adjusting as though attuned to the rhythm of her need. Their presence was overwhelming, a constant press of sensations that blurred the line between her body and the creature’s control. Her breath came in shallow, erratic bursts, her chest rising and falling as the tension coiled tighter within her.

One tendril trailed down her inner thigh with a deliberate slowness, its slick surface leaving a cool, wet trail in its wake. The sensation sent shivers racing up her spine, her body arching instinctively to meet the touch. Her thighs quivered, her muscles clenching as it paused just at the entrance of her folds. The anticipation was maddening, her nerves alight with a fiery tension that only grew with every second of waiting.

When it finally slid inside, the sensation was indescribable. A gasp tore from her lips, her head snapping back as a jolt of pure ecstasy shot through her. “Ahhh! Yes… oh yes!” she squealed, her voice trembling with sheer delight as the fullness overwhelmed her. Her hips bucked instinctively, her body greedily welcoming the intrusion as the tendril moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left her gasping.

The pressure within her built with every pulse, the tendril’s movements precise and unrelenting. It teased her inner walls, stroking and exploring with an expertise that felt almost impossible, as though it knew exactly where to touch to unravel her completely.

“It feels… so good,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with unmistakable contentment. Her head lolled to the side, her lips parting as moans spilled from her freely, raw and unfiltered. Her body responded eagerly, her hips rolling in time with the tendril’s rhythm, a silent plea for more.

Her skin glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, the heat coursing through her body mingling with the cool, slick sensations of the tendrils. Every movement drove her deeper into the haze of bliss, her mind unable to focus on anything but the unrelenting pleasure that consumed her. The world around her faded into insignificance, leaving only the tendrils’ embrace and the exquisite fullness that left her gasping for breath.

As her body adjusted to its rhythm, another tendril rose before her, its glossy surface catching the dim crimson light as it hovered near her lips. She barely had time to register its presence before it pressed gently against her mouth.

A startled gasp escaped her as her lips parted, the tendril slipping inside with surprising ease. The texture was slick and warm, its faint pulse vibrating against her tongue as it explored her. At first, the sensation was overwhelming, but as it moved deeper, her surprise melted into contentment.

“Mmmph… so… deep,” she murmured against it, her voice muffled but filled with an odd sense of satisfaction. Her tongue pressed against its surface instinctively, tasting its slick warmth as her lips closed tightly around it. “More,” she managed to hum softly, her muffled plea a testament to her growing acceptance.

The tendril filled her mouth with a deliberate rhythm, its movements teasing and steady, drawing soft whimpers of satisfaction from her throat. Her moans grew louder, muffled but fervent, as her body surrendered to the dual sensations.

Just as she thought her body couldn’t possibly handle more, another tendril coiled around her waist, its movements slow and deliberate as it slid lower. Her breath quickened as she felt it pressing against the tight, unused ring of her back entrance.

Her muffled moans faltered for a moment, her eyes widening as she realized its intent. “Mmmph! No… wait…” she tried to protest, her words barely audible around the tendril in her mouth. But the creature was unrelenting, its movements firm yet measured as it pressed forward with careful pressure.

The tendril began to slide into her tight ring, the sensation sending a shockwave through her. Her body tensed, her muffled squeal vibrating against the tendril in her mouth as it stretched her in ways she had never experienced. The pressure was intense, a blend of discomfort and startling pleasure that left her gasping.

“Mmhhh!” she cried out, her voice a mix of surprise and arousal. The sensation was overwhelming, but as the tendril moved deeper, her body began to adjust, the discomfort giving way to an intoxicating fullness.

Her hips bucked again, her arousal evident in the way her body responded, even to the new intrusion. The tendril in her mouth pulsed gently, coaxing her into a rhythm that felt strangely natural, while the one in her back moved with slow precision, its every motion sending sparks of heat radiating through her.

Her muffled cries grew softer, their tone shifting as the sensations blended into a symphony of pleasure that consumed her entirely. She moaned around the tendril in her mouth, her tongue moving against its surface as her hips rocked involuntarily, her body giving itself over to the relentless rhythm.

Tsuki’s moans deepened, her muffled cries of pleasure blending into the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. She was lost in the overwhelming intensity, her body trembling as the tendrils brought her to the edge of another release.

Her mind fractured under the weight of the sensations, her thoughts dissolving into the raw, primal pleasure that consumed her. She could feel herself letting go completely, surrendering to the creature’s attentions as it claimed her in ways she had never thought possible.

Tsuki’s muffled cries grew softer, their tone shifting from resistance to surrender, as the sensations enveloped her in a symphony of pleasure that consumed her entirely. Her lips closed tightly around the tendril in her mouth, her tongue moving against its slick surface with a mind of its own. Each pulse, each deliberate motion, seemed to sync with the creature’s rhythm, its movements echoing through her as though it were orchestrating her very being.

She moaned helplessly, her hips rocking involuntarily against the tendril that filled her folds. Its movements were unyielding, stroking her inner walls with a maddening precision that left her trembling. The tendril at her back entrance stretched her relentlessly, its girth and depth pushing her to limits she hadn’t known existed. The fullness was all-consuming, her body stretched and claimed in ways that left her breathless.

Every hole was occupied, her body bound and plugged by the creature’s relentless attentions, and the sheer sensation of being used so completely sent waves of heat coursing through her. Her skin was flushed, a fiery warmth radiating outward from her core, spreading to every inch of her trembling frame. Sweat beaded on her skin, mingling with the slick trails left by the tendrils, and her body felt feverish, as though she were burning from the inside out.

Each time she tried to move, her bound limbs pulled against the sinewy hold of the tendrils encircling her wrists and ankles. The resistance heightened her awareness of her vulnerability, a sharp reminder of how completely she was at the creature’s mercy. But instead of fear, the restraint ignited an even deeper arousal, the inability to move amplifying the sensations that coursed through her. When she flexed her legs or attempted to shift her arms, the tendrils tightened briefly, their grip firm yet careful, sending jolts of heat straight to her core.

The tension in her muscles as she instinctively tested her bonds made her hyper aware of how securely she was held. The feel of the tendrils against her skin—slick, warm, and unyielding—only added to the electric current of arousal that pulsed through her. Her fingers twitched, her toes curled, but every attempt to exert control over her own body was met with the creature’s deliberate, commanding restraint. It wasn’t just physical—it's mental, a complete surrender that left her trembling with need.

Her mind spiraled, her thoughts teetering on the edge of coherence. For a brief moment, an image of Karina flickered through her mind—her friend, calm and composed, standing in this very space. This… this was in her basement? Tsuki’s lips twitched in a half-formed, disbelieving smile around the tendril in her mouth. The absurdity of it struck her even amidst the overwhelming sensations. How could Karina have lived above such a thing, so unaware—or worse, so unbothered?

The thought dissolved as the tendrils’ movements quickened, dragging her back into the maelstrom. Each of them found its rhythm, their synchronized motions intensifying as though responding to her growing need. The tendril in her folds thrust deeper, its strokes faster and more insistent, eliciting muffled moans that vibrated against the tendril in her mouth. The one at her back entrance stretched her further, its deliberate pace giving way to a primal urgency that sent shivers racing up her spine.

Tsuki’s body tensed, her muscles taut as the building pleasure became unbearable. Each movement she attempted, every twist or writhe, was met with the firm but almost loving grip of the tendrils holding her. The inability to move only fueled her arousal further, her body betraying her with each pulse of heat that radiated outward. Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her muffled cries rising in pitch as the tendrils drove her higher, their relentless rhythm consuming her entirely.

And then, the dam broke.

Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with an intensity that left her gasping and trembling. Every nerve in her body exploded with sensation, a blinding cascade of euphoria that obliterated every thought, every shred of control. Her back arched violently, her toes curling as the pleasure surged through her, wave after wave, unrelenting and overwhelming.

The fullness of the tendrils magnified everything, their pulsing, thrusting movements sending aftershocks rippling through her as her body convulsed in their grasp. She moaned deeply, her voice muffled but filled with raw, unrestrained ecstasy, the sound reverberating through the room.

Her consciousness seemed to splinter, dissolving into the sheer euphoria of the moment. The sensations blurred together, an all-encompassing bliss that left her trembling and breathless. Her body felt weightless, suspended in the haze of her release as the creature’s motions began to slow, guiding her down from the peak with a deliberate tenderness.

She collapsed against the tendrils’ support, her body slick with sweat and quivering from the force of her climax. Her mind was blank, save for the lingering warmth and satisfaction that pulsed through her, a glowing ember of pleasure that refused to fade.

Each breath she took was shaky, her chest heaving as her limbs lay limp in the tendrils’ grasp. The tension she’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced by a languid warmth that wrapped around her like a blanket. She couldn’t move, nor did she want to. The bonds that had held her captive now felt like an embrace, their presence a strange comfort in the aftermath of her release.

When the tendrils finally began to recede, they moved with a grace that belied their earlier fervor. Each one released her slowly, as if savoring the final moments of their connection. Tsuki’s limbs felt weightless as the tendrils carefully lowered her onto the cool floor, their motions deliberate and reverent. Her back met the ground gently, her sweat-slicked body sinking into the cold surface. For a moment, she lay there in suspended stillness, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the creature’s hold began to loosen.

The first tendril to withdraw was the one in her mouth. It slid back with a languid motion, its warmth fading from her lips as it retreated. She could feel its ridges trailing along the inside of her cheeks and the roof of her mouth, each sensation vivid and excruciatingly intimate. Her throat tightened reflexively as it exited the depths of her esophagus, the strange mix of relief and loss making her shudder. Her lips parted in a soft gasp as the slick appendage left her completely, and her tongue flicked out instinctively, as though searching for the lingering trace of its presence.

Next came the tendril from her back entrance. Tsuki whimpered softly as it began to pull free, the stretched, tight ring of muscle quivering in protest. Its girth had molded her, reshaped her in a way that left her painfully aware of the emptiness its absence would bring. The slow withdrawal was almost too much to bear, each inch dragging against her sensitive walls and sending residual shocks through her trembling frame. When it finally slipped out with a wet, obscene sound, she felt a sudden hollowness, the cool air brushing against her gaped entrance a sharp reminder of how thoroughly she had been claimed.

The last tendril lingered the longest, nestled deep within her folds as though reluctant to leave. Tsuki’s breath hitched as she felt it begin to move, every ridge and curve stroking against her inner walls with aching slowness. Her body clenched reflexively, unwilling to let go, and the friction sent jolts of pleasure spiraling through her even as her heart ached with the knowledge that it was ending.

“No… please…” she murmured, her voice hoarse and barely audible, a trembling plea that surprised even her.

When the tendril finally slid free, leaving her folds slick and quivering, the loss hit her like a blow. The emptiness was unbearable, a deep ache blooming in her chest as though her very soul mourned its departure. She felt as though she had been hollowed out, her body and mind suddenly bereft of the connection that had consumed her so completely. A wave of sadness crashed over her, sharp and unexpected, as she realized just how reliant she had become on the tendrils’ touch to feel anything close to happiness.

Tsuki’s eyes fluttered open, and she watched as the tendrils retreated toward the glowing book, their slick, sinuous forms folding into its open pages as if swallowed by the ancient tome itself. The glow from the book dimmed with each passing second, the rhythmic pulse that had filled the room fading into stillness. When the last tendril disappeared, the book’s cover snapped shut with a soft but definitive sound.

The crimson sheen on the doorframe flickered one last time before vanishing, leaving the basement shrouded in darkness save for the weak, flickering light of the single bulb above. The oppressive energy that had suffused the room dissipated, replaced by a deafening silence that pressed against her ears like a physical weight.

Tsuki lay there, her body trembling and spent, her skin slick with sweat and the faint, shimmering residue left by the creature’s touch. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy, yet her heart raced, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Every muscle ached, her body marked by the intensity of what it had endured, yet it wasn’t pain that lingered—it was the ache of longing.

The ceiling above her seemed impossibly distant, its plaster patterns shifting and distorting as though mocking her attempts to ground herself in reality. Her thoughts whirled in disarray, fragments of exhilaration and shame twisting together until she could no longer separate them. Each ragged breath brought her closer to the memory of the tendrils’ touch, the unrelenting power of the entity that had claimed her so completely.

She closed her eyes, but the shadows behind her lids were no refuge. The sensations replayed in vivid detail, each ghostly caress and probing tendril etched into her mind with painful clarity. Her heart raced as a truth settled over her, cold and certain: she would never again be the same.

The weight of what she had experienced pressed down on her, and yet—shamefully, achingly—she felt a yearning for more. The creature had awakened something inside her, a deep and irrepressible hunger that no mere human touch could ever hope to satisfy. The pleasure it had granted her was beyond comprehension, an experience so profound it left her soul tethered to the ancient, leather-bound tome that rested silently nearby.

The book now sat quietly in the dim light, its symbols no longer glowing. The silence in the room was deafening, and yet Tsuki could feel it—a faint hum, a residual energy that whispered of its dark promise. A shiver ran through her as she gazed at its unassuming cover, her chest tightening with the certainty that she would return.

She sat up slowly, her trembling fingers brushing the shimmering residue that lingered on her skin. Her body still pulsed with the echoes of pleasure, but it was the ache in her heart that she couldn’t ignore—a longing she knew could only be satisfied by the creature she had left behind.

The realization struck her like a blow: she was bound to it now, tied to something greater and darker than she could comprehend.

-----

The rest of Tsuki’s stay in the house passed in a blur of careful routine. Each day, she busied herself with small tasks—tidying the already immaculate rooms, rearranging little details to feel productive, and watering the plants with deliberate focus. Yet she avoided the basement entirely, the weight of what had happened there too much to face. The house, with its subtle creaks and faint whispers, seemed to breathe around her, alive and aware, as if watching her every move.

But no other strange incidents occurred. The silence of the house felt almost accusatory, as though it knew what had happened and was daring her to confront it. Tsuki couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though she was alone. At night, she would lie awake in the guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling, her mind spinning with fragmented memories of the tendrils’ touch, the forbidden ecstasy they had drawn from her.

The book’s presence haunted her. Though she left it untouched on its shelf in the basement, her thoughts often drifted to it, the dark leather cover etched into her memory. She could see it clearly in her mind’s eye, could feel its pulsing energy even from a distance. Each time her gaze lingered too long on the basement door, her heart quickened, the temptation to retrieve it tugging at her resolve.

Her mind was a battleground, torn between the dark allure of the book and the guilt that gnawed at her. She thought of Karina—so kind, so trusting. Tsuki respected her deeply, admired her quiet grace and the way she carried herself. Stealing the book would be a betrayal, a violation of the trust Karina had placed in her.

But it isn’t just a book, Tsuki thought one night, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater as she sat at the kitchen table. The memory of the tendrils’ touch burned in her veins, the intensity of the pleasure they had granted her unlike anything she had ever known. The connection she felt to the book wasn’t mere temptation; it was a need, an ache that refused to fade. It’s mine. It belongs to me. Doesn’t it?

The thought lingered, seductive and insistent. But as the hours ticked by and the house remained still around her, another voice spoke—a quieter, steadier voice. It was Karina’s voice, her warm smile and genuine gratitude echoing in Tsuki’s mind. Stealing the book wasn’t just wrong—it was unthinkable.

The next morning, Tsuki forced herself to make a choice. She stood before the basement door, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle. She could feel the book’s pull even through the wood, its dark promise thrumming in her chest. But she stepped back, shaking her head.

“No,” she whispered to herself, the word barely audible in the empty hallway. Leaving the book behind felt like tearing away a part of herself, and yet, she knew it was the only choice. Respect for Karina, for her trust, outweighed the yearning that clawed at her heart.

By the time Karina and you returned to town, the house had settled into an almost oppressive stillness, as though it had been holding its breath in your absence. The warm sunlight spilled across the porch, highlighting the ivy trailing up the red-brick exterior, and casting a golden glow on Tsuki as she stood awkwardly in the entryway. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her, her posture composed but betraying a hint of nervous energy.

When Karina stepped inside, her polished appearance and radiant smile instantly eased the lingering tension in the room, filling it with her signature warmth.

“Tsuki!” Karina greeted, setting her bag down with a graceful motion. “Thank you so much for helping out. Seriously, you saved us.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Tsuki replied quickly, her voice soft but earnest. “I actually… really enjoyed my time here. You have such a beautiful house.” Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, and a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

Karina tilted her head, her smile softening. “I’m so glad you think so. This house means a lot to me. There’s just something about it—it stays with you, doesn’t it?” She glanced around as she spoke, as though the familiar details—the carved wooden railings, the faint scent of lavender, and the way the light danced off the polished floors—reassured her.

Tsuki nodded, hesitating briefly before glancing at Karina with a curious smile. “Um… is your boyfriend here? Everyone’s been talking about you two since your news went public. I guess I’ve been wondering about the guy who managed to steal the Karina’s heart.”

Karina laughed lightly, her radiant smile showing as she waved a hand. “He’s out grabbing food. He insisted since I did most of the driving back.” She paused, her eyes brightening. “Next time, we should all go out to eat. My treat. I know he’d love to meet you—you really did us a huge favour.”

Tsuki’s blush deepened, and she ducked her head with a shy smile. “That sounds nice. I’d like that a lot.”

Karina smiled warmly and moved to open the door for her. “Thank you again, Tsuki. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

Tsuki bowed slightly, her movements graceful and instinctive. “Thank you, unnie. Have a good evening.”

With that, Tsuki stepped out into the golden afternoon light, her figure framed briefly by the glow before she disappeared down the walkway. Karina lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching her go with a thoughtful smile. The gentle creak of the closing door seemed to release the tension that had settled in the house.

Once the door clicked shut, the familiar stillness of the home returned, wrapping around Karina like an old, comfortable blanket. She exhaled deeply, the sound quiet and unhurried, as though she was letting the house welcome her back.

-----

You were seated at a small corner table in the restaurant, scrolling through your phone as you waited for the order. The familiar scent of spices and frying oil filled the air, and the hum of nearby conversations blended into a background buzz.

Your phone buzzed, and Karina’s name lit up the screen. Smiling, you picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said lightly, her voice soft and familiar. “Just wondering if you’re still at the restaurant.”

“Still waiting on the food,” you replied, leaning back in your chair. “Want me to grab anything else while I’m here?”

She hesitated briefly before humming thoughtfully. “Actually, could you grab me some boba? You know the flavors I like.”

“Of course,” you said with a chuckle. “Anything else?”

“Not really. Oh—actually, I was thinking of testing the security cameras. We should make sure they’re working properly, right?”

“Go for it,” you encouraged. “Check everything out. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay, thanks, babe.” Her voice softened as she ended the call, and you slipped the phone back into your pocket.

A few minutes later, the cashier handed you the food and drinks, the boba cups clinking lightly in the bag as you carried them to the car. The drive home was quiet, the golden hues of sunset stretching over the empty streets. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of finally relaxing with Karina after the long trip—sharing boba and maybe checking out the security footage together.

The house was dim when you opened the door, the faint scent of lavender and polished wood greeting you like an old friend. “I’m back!” you called out cheerfully, your voice cutting through the stillness as you stepped inside.

There was no reply.

You kicked off your shoes and carried the bags into the living room. The sight stopped you cold.

Karina sat frozen on the couch, her wide, unblinking eyes locked on the laptop screen. The faint glow illuminated her pale face, casting flickering shadows across the room.

“Karina?” you asked, your voice hesitant as unease crept into your chest.

She didn’t respond.

And then you heard it.

Moans—raw, breathless, and haunting—poured from the laptop speakers, filling the room with an intensity that made the air feel stifling. The sound swelled, growing louder with each passing second, an oppressive rhythm that clawed at the edges of your mind.

Amid the moans, a voice broke through, trembling yet fervent: “More… I want more!”

The bags slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a muffled thud that barely registered. The cries reached a deafening crescendo, vibrating through the room as the glow from the laptop screen flickered erratically.

Karina’s lips parted slightly, her face pale and rigid, her wide eyes glassy with shock. Her trembling fingers hovered above the keyboard, frozen mid-air, as if the world around her had stopped. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, but she didn’t blink, didn’t move—she just stared, trapped in the haunting grip of whatever was unfolding on the screen.

You took a hesitant step forward, the sound assaulting your ears as the speakers blasted their relentless, desperate rhythm. The cries, the voice, the echoing moans—it clawed at something primal inside you, something that begged you not to see what she was seeing.

“Karina?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the cacophony.

And then she turned her head.

Her wide eyes met yours, filled with something that sent ice through your veins—fear, disbelief, and something darker, something that made your stomach churn. Her lips moved, trembling as though she was trying to form words, but no sound came.

The moans from the laptop swelled one final time, reaching a crescendo so visceral it felt like the room itself might burst apart. And then it stopped.

Silence.

But Karina’s gaze didn’t waver, and in the suffocating stillness that followed, you knew. Whatever she had just seen, whatever she had uncovered—it had already changed everything.

[deathbypixelz]

Screenshotting my original tags because there's some thoughts I want to get out.

I stopped watching the show in season one because I wanted this to happen so badly but I was so afraid I was just gonna get burned again. Or that it wasn't going to be good, though that was a much lesser fear. If anything knowing how well Fortiche could animate this made the first fear worse.

So yes I was watching the tags from the sidelines waiting to see if what I wanted so fucking badly would happen. I'd settle for a kiss, because even that is too much for most shows, and I was hoping for a sex scene on top of that. And then when it did, and then AGAIN, I wasn't ecstatic like I thought I'd be. I was just kind of... sad. And it took me until this morning to figure out why.

This is really, really good. It's short but it's really good. This is what lesbian intimacy and lesbian sex looks like. And I have never. in my life. seen it done so well.

And I have no idea when I will ever see it done so well again.

Animating characters touching AT ALL is EXTREMELY hard to get right, so I've heard. Let alone intimate touch. I mean fucking DRAWING IT is a struggle at times. And seeing just how fucking well Arcane does physicality and touch is, again, what made that first fear of mine worse.

I'm sad because I know now this is all we're getting of them. Even if there's a season three, why would they spend the time on a second sex scene? You know?

I wanted to see people like me loving like me and I got it. And I'm almost certainly going to cry over it later today. This is all I've wanted for years. And to an older lesbian who's seen the lack of real depiction for longer than I have, I can't imagine how this might feel.

When will I ever see it done in so beautiful a show, so honestly, with so much care, and with so much respect ever again? I don't know. And that's what's making this hurt in a weird way. It sounds shallow in a vacuum but I wish we could see them like this again, and again, and again, and again. Or any other pair of lesbians in this show. It really doesn’t matter to me.

I just want to see people like me -- really like me. It's all I've wanted for years. And I saw myself in these gifs. I have never seen myself reflected back like this. I have never felt this way before in my life. And as I'm typing this, I'm crying now.

...

I just wanted to say this and get it out of my brain. I'm going to channel this ache for more into art of my own. I hope the next time isn't too far away.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LESBIANS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[renjunphile]

way back home ❆ park sunghoon

⋆⁺₊❅. WORD COUNT: 22.4k ⋆⁺₊❅. PAIRING: enhypen's park sunghoon x female!reader ⋆⁺₊❅. TAGS & WARNINGS: figure skating!au, skater!sunghoon, skater!reader, enemies to lovers!au, ex bsf!au, kind of second chance romance!au, a lot of fluff, a little smidge of angst, a dash of fake dating blink and you'll miss, you used to stake for korea (more abt nationality than ethnicity), some inner conflict, burnout themes, tbz eric as a plot device oops, some heated making out

⋆⁺₊❅. SYNOPSIS: at the age of 5, you thought that you had made a life-long friend in park sunghoon. at the age of 16, you found out that life-long meant 11 years before you decided he was going to be your life-long enemy. but at 21, you're confronted with your past together as your figure skating coach decides to move back home to where you used to skate together after almost 6 years away abroad.

⋆⁺₊❅. NOTES: i've been attempting to write a hoonie ice skating fic for years and years since ice skating has been one of my big interests (watching, not doing) even before enha debuted- that contributed to the fact that hoon was my first bias. it's finally come to fruition and the wc just kept getting longer and longer- hope it's not too boring! i just wanted to write some mostly cute fluffy skater hoon!!

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

At the age of 5, you thought that you had made a life-long friend in Park Sunghoon. At the age of 16, you found out that life-long meant 11 years before you decided he was going to be your life-long enemy. You meant it this time, you had told yourself in the mirror of the rink's female bathroom while your hands were gripping the sides of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white.

Since that moment that led you to stomping out of the rink while still wearing your skates (thankfully with the guards on) all the way home, you've seen Park Sunghoon a total of 3 times. You're 21 now, but every time you think back to that moment of your falling out, the dull ache lingering in your heart still explodes into a fireball and you have to remind yourself that you'll never let him hurt you the same again.

Your body is set aflame as the president of the ISU gestures with his arms in front of a sold-out crowd for you to skate towards him for the photographers to grab a shot. You're no stranger to pictures with President Kim, but he's also beckoning over the newly crowned 2023-2024 Grand Prix Final Men's champion in Park Sunghoon.

"Aw, my two favourites," Mr. Kim coos as he wraps an arm around each of your shoulders' and grins to the camera, "I always knew it was only a matter of time before I would have two Korean skaters at the top again."

You groan internally at the consequences of being in the same frame as Park Sunghoon. Ever since one of your former classmates anonymously shared to a huge figure skating fan account that you and Sunghoon used to be best friends, you've been receiving demands to share stories about each other, not knowing your current relationship. Well, they must know from the fact that you two don't even follow each other on Instagram. On the flip side, you've also amassed unfathomable hate from his crazy, obsessed fans to stay away. There's always those people.

You paid no mind to them anyway, since being near Park Sunghoon voluntarily was the last thing on your wish list.

Sunghoon keeps the fake smile plastered on his face but snarks out through his teeth, "She doesn't skate for our country anymore. She hasn't in 5 years."

Mr. Kim chortles as if he believed Sunghoon's words to just be banter, "Don't be so unwelcoming, Sunghoon. Y/N is still part of our family."

You held back a scoff, letting out a sigh instead when the photographer finally turned his attention away from the three of you, "Mr President, don't you think you should root for all countries? You're no longer just the president of the Korean Skating Union."

He laughs obliviously, "I know, I know. I guess I should. I love my country of course, but I'll always cheer for you too Y/N. You broke all of our hearts when you switched nationalities."

You refuse to turn your head to your former acquaintance who makes a sound crossed between a scoff and a pained laugh, "Yeah, she sure did. Goodbye, Mr. Kim." Sunghoon bows his body completely at a right angle, pressing the bouquet of flowers he was holding for his win up to his chest before skating away without another glance at you.

Mr. Kim looks at you sheepishly, "You guys are still not on good terms?"

"I don't think we ever will be," you subtly roll your eyes at the hostility from Sunghoon, "I'm sorry he's like that."

"It wasn't all that long ago that you would race each other around the rink at junior nationals after the gala would end," he reminisces fondly, "It would be such a shame for you to have to look back on your friendship with regret."

"The damage is done, Sir," you tap your blade repeatedly on the ice to distract yourself from the pain you felt every time you thought about your friendship, "I hope to see you here again next year."

"Congratulations on your win, my dear," he smiles graciously and lets you skate away after bowing goodbye.

While you were ecstatic about winning your second Grand Prix Final gold medal in a row, you were also happy to share the podium with two friends that you have gotten close and closer to as you spent more time on the circuit. You glided back towards them as they took selfies with their flowers and their medals, trying to ignore the burning feeling on your back as if someone was looking at you from afar.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You liked to limit your interaction with Park Sunghoon to seeing him from afar once a year at the exhibition gala of the grand prix final or world's. It's only been two years that he's made the final, but you enjoyed another two without his villainous aura before that. Whatever deity you believed in had blessed you for the past 5 years; you hadn't been seeded to a single assignment with him through the seasons. There was definitely a force trying to keep you apart for the greater good of peace. You definitely took it as a sign that he wasn't meant to be back in your life anyway.

You thought that you had filled your quota this year with that little interaction with the president. You thought that you were finally in the clear for another year and you could move on with your life again without this god-awful memory weighing down on your chest every time you were in the same vicinity as him.

But Park Sunghoon stands before you, or more like crouches, as he tries to get a cola lollipop from the machine in the arcade of the hotel. It's not even been 24 hours since you last saw him.

When you spot him on the floor, you immediately turn on your heel to flee without being noticed. He has other plans, it seems.

"Did you know that you stomp like an elephant? For a figure skater, you're not very elegant on normal floors," Sunghoon doesn't take his eyes off the machine, watching as the conveyor belt trying to capture a lollipop turned and turned.

"Eat my ass, Park," you snipe back.

An amused smirk forms on his face as he turns his chin towards you, "Who knew you'd grow up so vulgar? That's quite unbecoming of you, Y/N."

"Don't say my name," you grunt, looking around for someone you know so you could exit this interaction, "In fact, don't even talk to me."

"As if you're the one who should be hurt. You moved continents and changed nationalities without a word," he scoffs, standing up and unwrapping the cola lollipop he had finally acquired, "Moving training locations, fine. But changing nationalities and not even warning your friends?"

If cartoon effects were real, there would be smoke coming out of your ears. You ball your fists tight and keep them glued to your side, "You were the one who broke my heart."

Sunghoon furrows his thick eyebrows together, halting the way he was moving the sweet between his lips. He takes it out and lets out an exasperated sound, "You never let me explai-"

You raise a hand to his face, "Save the bullshit, Park."

As much as a part of you wants to hear what he has to say, it still feels like the wound he inflected 5 years ago opens up anytime you hear his voice. All you could think about was that moment on the ice and the words he said that were sharper than his blades enough to cut deep into your heart. Honestly, you've tried to forgive him, or at least forget, but meeting his eyes now- you want to just run.

There's no longer any amusement in his expression, just frustration. You're satisfied with this, lunging forward to grab an unwrapped orange lollipop from his hand and walking away before he could register what you said or did.

You're breathing heavy; you hadn't let him affect you this way in years, but the anger is rising and the pain is overflowing out of the tiny box you kept it in and stored in the back of your heart. You sort of wish he'd run after you, grab your wrist and call your name, but you know that if you turn around right now, he'd still be in the same position.

It's been 5 years since you spoke to him, nearly 1 since you last saw him at the exhibition gala at the last World's. You don't intend to make a habit of Park Sunghoon again.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Your best friend Chaehyun twizzles around you in what you think is the shape of a heart. She's been trying out fun tricks to go along with the new go-pro that her coach bought for monitoring her training. It flies above the two of you with a prominent buzz that you've learned to tune out. You're standing in the middle of the rink, looking up and visualising the crowd you'll face tomorrow when you start the competition.

"Excited? Nervous?" Chaehyun's voice is naturally sing-songy but it vibrates as she moves at lightning speed around you.

"The same," your breath condenses into a cloud in front of you, "Just getting bored, a bit."

"Yeah, must be boring winning gold every single year for the past 4 years," Chaehyun snides, but not unkindly, "Do me a favour and fall on your axel tomorrow? I wouldn't mind having a world's medal."

"I would, but," you trail off and follow her with your eyes, "I want to go out with a bang."

Chaehyun immediately comes to a stop and rushes over to you, "What? What did you say?"

"I don't know if I should retire at the end of this season," you admit gingerly, gnawing on your bottom lip, "I'm just kind of exhausted."

Chaehyun gives you a weary look, "This doesn't have anything to do with seeing Sunghoon again in Beijing right?"

Your eyes widen at the mention of his name, "Chae, what? No! Why would it be?"

"Well, you cried all night after seeing him in the hotel," she reminded you, "And your coach wants to move back to Korea again."

"She does and I don't want to have to switch coaches. She's been with me since I was a junior, but I really can't move back to Seoul again," you tell her, "It's partly because of Sunghoon; all the memories would just hurt me over and over again the second I step foot in the country. Other than that, I've built a life on this side of the world."

Chaehyun scoffs at you, "Built a life? Your family is still in Korea and me, your best friend, is too. Your parents are getting older and you make them fly out to you every occasion. You shouldn't let Sunghoon dictate your life like this. You literally told me that you want an Olympic gold."

Your memories flash back to August, when you were vacationing with your best friend and drinking margaritas by the seaside, "2026 is really far away."

She gives you a strong side eye, "We can talk about this over dinner. You're literally the best female skater right now; you can't just retire at 21!"

"Alysa Liu retired at 16," you mumble.

Chaehyun smirks vindictively, "And Alysa Liu just announced her return at 19. Look, take a break, do what you need, but please don't give up on your dream so early."

Before you could say another word, a voice echoes in the arena, "Hey, it's our turn to practice."

Both of your heads whip around to the tunnel, where a few tall figures came into the light. Your head moves to the sudden movement of your coach, beckoning you to come off the ice after the end of the senior women's practice. You had wondered why there was no one kicking you off after your slot had finished.

"Heeseung," you grin at the sight of the cherry-haired boy, skating over to him and ignoring the presence of one ex-best friend beside him, "I haven't seen you in forever."

You clasp the boards tightly, swinging the gate open and sliding the guards over your skates. Heeseung is 3, 2, 1 step away from you and he takes you into a warm hug.

"I know," he coos into your hair, "It's a shame that Sunoo got injured and had to withdraw, but here I am in his place!"

You had known Heeseung nearly as long as you knew the boy beside him. When you and Sunghoon joined your skating club, Heeseung had been there for a year already. Through the years, he grew into a sort of older brother figure for the both of you and you never lost contact with him. The past season, he had been struggling with an injury and took off time to heal, but he recovered in time for nationals and placed 4th. Sunghoon had won the gold, Sunoo the silver and Jungwon the bronze. As Sunoo fell victim to an injury in practice in between nationals and World's, Heeseung had been invited to fill the country's berth at the championships.

In the middle of your conversation with Heeseung, you notice Sunghoon stalk away behind you to step onto the rink. You hear him greet Chaehyun happily as he passed by.

"I heard you might be moving back to Korea," Heeseung mumbles lowly under his breath.

"How do you know that?" you furrow your eyebrows at him. Had he overheard you? Did Sunghoon overhear too?

Heeseung shakes his head, his bangs falling into his eyes, "Our coaches used to be partners, remember?"

You flick your gaze to your coach, who was happily catching up with her ex-pairs skating partner of nearly 2 decades. They used to coach at the same rink, but when your coach fancied a change of scenery and was offered a role she couldn't turn down, you followed her across the world. Of course she couldn't keep a secret from her very best friend despite you begging her not to tell anyone yet.

"Does Sunghoon know?" Thankfully, Sunghoon's coach was different and not very close to your coach as Heeseung's coach is.

Heeseung denies this again, "I wanted to talk to you first. What's up with that?"

"Taeyeon's missing home and she feels like she's learned all she could have from head coach," you sigh, "I miss home too, but I don't really want to move. I also think I might take a break for a season instead; I'm feeling burnt out."

5 years ago, your coach was offered to be mentored by the most successful coach in the world of figure skating. While you trusted her already with your life, you both agreed that being under a 2x Olympic winning coach would be beneficial, so you didn't hesitate packing your bags despite the distance it put between your home and your family.

Heeseung looks at you with sincere empathy, wrapping you up again in his arms, "I'm sorry you're feeling that way. Have you spoken to your coach about it?"

"Kind-of. She's going to take on more students when she moves back home so she won't suffer in that regard and she said if I do follow her, I can help coach and maybe get a certificate," you nod, plonking your face straight into his chest, "I don't know what to do, Heeseung."

"I'm not very good at giving pep talks or advice, but I trust you'll make the decision that's best for you," Heeseung murmurs, "Just follow your heart, I guess. Wherever your heart is being pulled to, there must be a reason."

"Hey! You're wasting time!" a sharp, deep voice resonates behind you, causing you to turn your head to watch Sunghoon glaring at the two of you like you just sabotaged Heeseung's career keeping him at the sideline.

"I'll be there in a sec, Hoon," Heeseung remains calm, knowing that his best friend always gets in a mood whenever you're around or you're mentioned near him. He turns back to you, "Are you busy? Do you want to watch us practise?"

To the side of you, Chaehyun is hunching over an iPad with her coach, deep in monitoring. Your coach waves your own device at you when you catch her eye.

"I guess we can monitor here," you tell him reluctantly, to which he smiles, "But if he says anything, let me know so I can leave. I don't want to deal with him right now."

Heeseung squeezes your shoulders and moves past you to reach the gate. Still unsure if you were making the right decision by staying when Sunghoon was under the same room, you make your way gingerly to your coach.

"What a lovely reunion," Taeyeon exhales happily, "Kibum's pretending he's not overjoyed I'm moving back to Seoul."

Kibum is standing shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the rink with Junho, Sunghoon's coach, and they chat animatedly while the boys warm up.

"That's nice," you mumble, fiddling with the iPad to get up your practice run.

Taeyeon continues beside you, "I think you should make up with Sunghoon if you're going to move back home. It'll just be a better atmosphere in the rink."

"I don't know if I will go back," you remind her, "And what's wrong with the atmosphere? We're not affecting anyone."

Your coach lets out the most dramatic scoff you think has ever been produced, "Y/N, sweetheart. The freaking glare that Sunghoon was giving you and Heeseung when you were talking and hugging could have evaporated all the ice in this building. I was scared and he wasn't even looking at me!"

Your eyes dart to him on the ice, slowly speeding up his camel spin. You get that he didn't like you, but what reason did he have for glaring at you when you weren't even looking his way? Unprofessional, you thought to yourself.

"That's his problem, not mine," you jeer, "Can we review?"

Taeyeon giggles at your attitude, "Okay, feisty. Look, all I'm saying is that I watched the two of you grow up together. You had such a special bond and yeah, 5 years is a long time to not be friends from your point right now, but when you're older, that's not gonna be anything if you make up now."

"It's not my choice, Taeyeon," you tap your fingers against the glass screen, "I really hate talking about this."

"One day I'll get it out of you what happened when you fell out," Taeyeon hums off-handedly, "Okay, monitoring. Your spins were great, but you were a bit wobbly on the-"

Despite being the one to encourage focus, you begin to tune her out when you notice in the corner of your eye that Sunghoon was warming up his jumps. You watch him breathe deeply and the way he keeps his eyes up and on the ice to visualise the jump he was going to do. You can't take your eyes off him as he takes off and you hold your breath watching him rotate so quickly in the air. The breath only escapes when his blade collides with the ice and he lands the quad lutz perfectly.

It takes you back to when you were 16 and he was struggling so hard to land this exact jump- one that even Heeseung was yet to master. You remember him falling over and over and over again, training it into the late hours of the evening when you were supposed to be at home and resting. You remember him kicking up ice with his blades in frustration, on the verge of giving up. You remember cooing a pep talk into his ear until he was motivated enough to try again for the last time and finally land it in your presence.

"Y/N," Taeyeon snaps in your ear, "You're actually a walking oxymoron."

"I may dislike him, but I never said he's a bad skater. If there's a good jump about to happen in front of me, I wouldn't ignore it," you fight back, "Okay, sorry, sorry. Focus."

"I'm getting dinner tonight with Kibum and Junho," she tells you suddenly, "Do you want me to not talk about moving back? In case Junho says anything to Sunghoon?"

You let your eyes flutter close as your head spins with all the decisions you had to make soon. Sometimes, you have no idea where you were going next or what event you're training for. It's times like those that you're desperate for the world to freeze at your command.

"I just need some time to think before I make any decisions."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You don't know where it all went wrong, to be honest. It probably started with the gold medal hanging around your neck and the hundreds of pairs of eyes peering up at you with their hands typing at the speed of lightning on their computers.

The journalist chosen to ask the next question has these sharp, inquisitive eyes.

"Your former nation, the Korean Skating Union has just published their congratulations on your gold medal and celebrating the return of coach Lee Taeyeon to Taereung National Training Center."

Your world stops and even the flashes don't affect your eyes anymore. You'll probably see these photos of you from the press conference all over figure skating twitter in a few minutes. Peripherally, you see Taeyeon's face contort into true horror as she scrambles to the mic.

"How is this going to affect your training? Are you relocating back to Korea with your coach?" the journalist finished up with a smile, as if she didn't just drop the biggest bomb with no warning. You guess it's not her fault; the KSU had spoiled the news too early.

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter much. Skaters move locations and change coaches frequently; you'd done it once already. The only problem is you haven't told your family just yet... or Sunghoon, who still trained at Taereung with Heeseung and Chaehyun.

"We don't have any comments on that question as of now," Taeyeon pressed her lips together in a tense half-smile and motions for them to choose the next question.

You haven't moved since the question was asked, palms gripping the gold medal around your neck tightly. You don't remember answering many more questions actually and the next thing you know, you're sitting at the end of your hotel bed still in your national team tracksuit.

A rapid knocking begins at your door.

It takes you a few seconds to compose yourself and trudge over, but you sigh in relief when you see it's Chaehyun through the peephole.

"Chae, I'm so glad you're here," you exhale as you unlock the latches and open the door.

She gives you the most painful puppy dog eyes you've ever seen, "I'm so sorry."

"About what?"

Your heart stops again when Park Sunghoon steps into view from where he was hidden from the peephole. Immediately, your instinct is to close the door on both of them, but Sunghoon is quick to wedge his foot where the door is about to slam.

"Shit, shit, that hurts. I fucking have free skate tomorrow," Sunghoon curses under his breath with a hiss.

"I'm sorry, he's really convincing," Chaehyun tries to plead as you give her menacing looks.

Sunghoon crosses his arm and scoffs, still keeping his foot between the door and the frame, "All I asked was where her room was and you came up with the plan of pretending it was just you."

Chaehyun flushes pale and she pinches his arm, "Shut up! You said you wouldn't say!"

"Whatever this is-" you interrupt them harshly, "I don't care for it. So please leave."

Sunghoon rolls his brown eyes, finally using all of his muscle to push on the door and then on your shoulder to move you out of the way. He walks into your hotel room like it's his and gives you a smug look as he stands in the middle.

"Look, I think you two should talk," Chaehyun huffs finally, grabbing on the door handle from her side and pulling it shut, "Sorry, forgive me!"

The electronic door handle plays a quiet jingle as it locks and you're left in the room with your former best friend.

"I don't know what delusion is going through your head to make you think I'm going to stay in this room with you," you sneer, hurriedly budging past him to grab your phone, a hat and a jacket.

"Y/N-"

"Sunghoon, please," you yelp as his fingers clasp around your wrist, "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to talk," his voice is shaky, unsure, hesitant, but his grip is firm and his eyes search yours desperately.

"You want to talk? After 5 years of radio silence you want to talk?" you're frustrated as you snatch your arm back and shove him lightly on his shoulder, "I could have forgiven you if it was six months- a year, even. But 5? We're nothing more than strangers, Park Sunghoon."

Sunghoon winces visibly at your words, shutting his eyes for a second before giving you a pitiful expression, "Are you really moving back to Korea?"

You throw your hands up in the air and laugh dryly, "Are you being serious? You only care about me and want to be friends if I'm close by? As if you have no use for me if I'm somewhere else?"

"Y/N, don't put words in my mouth," Sunghoon begs. Every time he tries to step closer to you, you take a leap back. At this point, you're nearly pressed against the hotel room door, "I've always cared about you-"

"That's bullshit," you spit at him, "How can you say you've always cared about me when you're snappy at best whenever we see each other? How can you say you've always cared about me when you never called, not once, in 5 years?"

You can see his usual ice-cold, nonchalant front cracking in front of you, "I wanted to."

Hot tears sweltered on your water line, just a second away from escaping. They start streaming down your face when you begin to shove at him repeatedly, "You wanted to? Then why didn't you? Why didn't you fucking call, Sunghoon?"

Sunghoon's resolve shatters as he halts your wrist with his own and crushes you in a tight embrace that you try to fight your way out of, "I was angry, okay? I was angry that my first love practically left without warning before I could even tell her what she meant to me. I was angry that you only told me the day before you were leaving. I was angry that there was nothing I could do or say to make you stay. I was angry at the fact that you were going to be thousands of miles away from me, in a different time zone when I'd never known what life was like without you and suddenly I felt like I was being abandoned. I was angry because in all of my conscious memory up until then, you and skating were the only constant things in my life that made me happy. I didn't know what to do with myself without you."

You stop squirming against his body nearly immediately at the revelation, listening to his speech in near medical shock.

"W- what?" your voice is muffled into the material of his Team Korea fleece.

"That's all I wanted to say all these years," Sunghoon exhales like a weight is lifted off his shoulder, "I didn't know how to tell you."

"And if I don't move back to Korea, what are you going to do?" you're still crying, but you regain enough strength to pull away from his warm grip and look into his eyes that begin to flood identically, "How do you think that's going to fix anything?"

You're less than metre away from Sunghoon, but to him, you couldn't be any further apart with a rift in between you. He looks at you and you almost look exactly the same as five years ago. He knows that you're a much different person after the way he hurt you.

"I want to make it up to you, Y/N," he whispers unsurely, "I just-"

"Why did it take you 5 years and me potentially moving home to realise that?"

"I overheard Heeseung and Chaehyun talking about how you were considering retirement or a break," Sunghoon admits guiltily, "I didn't want to ruin anything for you trying to come back into your life when it all seemed so great in America. You've won nearly every medal there is to win. But I had no idea you've been struggling and it's killing me that I wasn't by your side and was adding to your hurt instead."

You make a mental note to bang your two friends' heads together the next time you see them.

"And what makes you think I want you to be by my side?" Sunghoon is the one squirming now, probably not expecting you to be relentless in your grilling. You're a different person than you were 5 years ago; you learned not to give in so easily when even those closest to you had the potential to hurt you.

"Just give me a chance to make it up to you," Sunghoon looks down at you with eyes full of sorrow. His lips are pulled downwards, and in another time, you would have been tugging on his hand to take him to the arcade, or the rink, or the park, or the river- to anywhere that would make him forget whatever was causing him woe, "Whether you're home or not."

You cross your arms and tilt your head to look away from him. You catch sight of the clock on your wall and see that it's nearing 11pm.

You manoeuvre around Sunghoon and begin to push him in the direction of the door, "You have your free skate tomorrow. This conversation isn't going to be the reason you lose; please go back to your hotel room and get some rest. Junho would kill me if he found out you were here this late."

Sunghoon is more than willing to comply with you now, "You're not gonna give me an answer tonight?"

"I can't, Sunghoon," you tell him honestly, "I need to think about this; I need to think about so many things. It feels like my head's not even screwed on the right way right now."

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he turns the handle and opens the door wide, "Good night, Y/N. Thanks for listening to me even though I didn't give you a choice and congratulations on the gold."

Sunghoon makes it three steps away before you call out his name softly.

"Hm?" he turns around to see you half hidden by the door, chewing on your lip as you decide whether to spew out what you were going to say.

"You were my first love too. Anyway, good luck tomorrow."

The door handle jingles and Sunghoon is left alone in the hallway of the hotel, feeling as if his life had just turned around again. At the centre of it, there was always you.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

"You should go home and rest first," Taeyeon pretends to scold you as she reverses into the parking space. She's been giving the same spiel over and over again since she picked you up from the airport, but you knew she didn't mean it from the way she was still driving you to your desired destination.

"I got plenty of rest on the plane and my parents aren't back from work until later," you retort again and then smile, "The KSU gave you a big raise, huh?"

Taeyeon laughs airily and the grin doesn't fade from her face, "I want only the best for my favourite skater."

You nudge her softly when she puts the car into park, "Thank you for paying for my flight. You really didn't have to."

"I get it, you're richer than me," she rolls her eyes, "Let a coach do a nice thing for her student, okay?"

Technically, you're not Taeyeon's student right now, but as her very first and most successful one, you'll always be her favourite. In reality, the fact that the two of you lived alone together and took care of each other in America made you more like family. She was a cross between a mother and an older sister to you and Taeyeon doted on you so that you never felt alone in America. Well, mostly.

She beckons you out of the car and you take the elevator up to the ground floor from the underground car park. There's a bunch of checks that you have to pass upstairs and it feels foreign to you to have a lanyard with the words 'GUEST' printed on them repeatedly. Once upon a time, you ruled this place.

"They're gonna come back from lunch soon. I made Kibum tell them all to come for an announcement after lunch," Taeyeon giggles to herself as she explains her own conspiring.

You chuckle along with her, "You're more of a sucker for this kind of stuff than I am! Telling me to go home and rest when you've been working behind the scenes without me..."

Taeyeon slides her arm around your waist and squeezes you against her side. You pass the double doors into the rink that takes your breath away.

"I'm just glad you're home, Y/N."

Strangely, it looks pretty much exactly the same as when you last saw it. Sure, the seats are getting a little worn and the floors have new scratches from dropped skates or dragging equipment, but the ice is as pristine as ever. It's sparkling white and perfectly surfaced- though you note that's probably due to ahjussi and his zamboni that you see disappearing into the tunnel on the other side of the rink. Chaehyun updates you that your favourite caretaker who's been working at Taereung since you joined is still there and you hope it's him. It would be nice to say hello in person again after nearly 6 years of occasional hello's when you video call your best friend at her training.

Kibum spots you first and jogs around to give you a big hug, "Welcome back to Korea, Y/N. I'm so happy you're here."

"Thanks Kibum," you smile sincerely at him. Since all the coaches at Taereung were so close, having been partners or friends since their own professional days, their students naturally got to know the other coaches too. While Taeyeon excelled at guiding you on techniques, spins and jumps, Kibum used to help fill out and polish your program with flair, charisma and poise. There was a reason that Heeseung always had some of the highest grade of execution scores in every competition. You had definitely missed his input while you were away.

"They should be here soon. I think I can hear Chaehyun," Kibum points to the direction you came in from, "Are you gonna hide or-"

"Shut up. Shut up!"

You spin to see your best friend frozen at the entrance of the rink, her hands over her gaping mouth, "I think it's too late for that."

"Y/N!" Chaehyun breaks out into a sprint and throws her arms around you, knocking you nearly off balance and having to take a few steps back, "What are you doing here?"

"Surprise?" you laugh weakly into her hair, "Aren't you happy I'm here?"

"I'm so happy! How long are you staying? There's so much to do now!" she pulls away from you excitedly and looks at the two coaches, "Where's coach? Do you think she'll let me take a week off?"

"Chae," you stop her bouncing by pressing down on her shoulders, "Relax. I'm moving here. Until the end of this upcoming season, at least."

Chaehyun gasps in delight and embraces you again, "Oh my God, this is the best news ever!"

"We're here too, by the way," Heeseung coughs behind Chaehyun, "We're also happy to see her, so can you share?"

Chaehyun spins and sticks her tongue out at Heeseung, but moves anyway. His hair is black again and longer than the last time you saw him. Despite that, his hug is familiar and you're always comfortable in his presence.

"I knew you'd come sooner than later after Taeyeon came back," Heeseung teases you, "I'm happy to have you around again, sweets."

"Sweets was my nickname for her," Sunghoon's deep voice called out behind the two of you. He's standing kind of awkwardly- leaning against the side of the stands as to act casual.

You remember when you started getting pocket money from your parents. Instead of saving it to buy a new plush or makeup from the mall, you would instead use it to smuggle vending machine sweets to practice. You would secretly slip some to your best friend here and there, and you were always getting scolded by your coach for your incessant sweet tooth despite needing to keep fit and healthy as an athlete.

"Hi Sunghoon," you greet him simply, a soft half-smile pulling on your lips. You immediately notice the change in his appearance, "Love the blonde."

He's a few metres away from you and you can feel all your audience's eyes on you. His own eyes widen slightly at the compliment and he shyly runs his fingers through the platinum locks, "Thanks, Y/N. I'm glad that you're back."

Chaehyun seals her hand over her mouth, but you can still hear the, "aw!" that escaped through the cracks. You spin your head so fast to glare at her that it nearly gives you whiplash.

"Coach, can we at least have the rest of the day off and catch up with Y/N?" Heeseung turns to face Kibum and then at you, "You're not busy, right?"

"You can finish practice now, but Y/N literally just got off the plane, so let her rest if she's tired," Kibum warns the three skaters, "And tomorrow, business as usual, unfortunately."

Chaehyun claps her hands together and drags you with her, calling over her shoulder that she was going to change and they should too. The locker room is still as sterile as you remember it to be- your old locker now devoid of the stickers you used to plaster all over the front.

"So?" Chaehyun quirks an eyebrow expectantly at you as she removed all of her training gear.

"So what, Chaehyun?" you roll your eyes at the girl, tapping at your cheek with your chin in your hand.

"Please, you saw the way Sunghoon was looking at you," Chaehyun laughs in glee, "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment forever."

You ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks, "This is moving too fast. I can't be hating him the last time I saw him to now being buddy-buddy. We talked a bit, yeah, but he still hurt me a lot and we're not in the clear yet. Of course, our relationship will probably never be the same."

"It's been 4 months since World's," Chaehyun notes, "You haven't thought about what you want to happen since then?"

You cock your head and hum in thought, "A little, but I've been distracting myself with the ice shows and every time I think about the situation, it just hurts, so I prefer not to."

"Hoon seems more repentant these days, to be honest. He's kinda sulky every time he sees Taeyeon and you're not by her side. He keeps asking her if you're going to come too," she stifles a laugh in remembrance of his antics.

"Taeyeon never told me that," you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

Chaehyun zips up her training bag as she finishes changing into more summer-appropriate clothes, "All I can tell you is that I'm sure Sunghoon wants to reconcile."

You ponder on it thoughtfully, trying to consider the implications of making up and how you were to go about doing that. It's never as simple as saying sorry and hugging it out; you've been living with the hurt and resentment for 5 years now. It was more second nature to ache whenever you thought of him than to smile. Undoing that is never going to be easy, no matter how much you want to forget the past in an instant and move forward.

"Come on, let's go get drinks," Chaehyun interrupts your thoughts by locking her arm with yours and tugging to exit the locker room.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

When the news came out that you were going to take a break in the next figure skating season, it was safe to say that the whole industry was shocked. You just finished the best run of your career and showed no signs of slowing down. You hadn't even had to withdraw from any events for injury in 2 seasons!

Everyone was asking why- were you injured? Were you depressed? Were you pregnant? That one made you kick your fellow countryman Eric's heel from behind.

The press conference wasn't easy- how were you supposed to just say that you were exhausted and needed a break? Every skater was exhausted, right? There was even more speculation that you were going to switch nationalities again as your coach moved back to Korea and this break was just to hide the fact that you were riding out ISU's one year waiting period. You were glad to quickly shut that down.

For the past four months, you occupied yourself by participating in every ice show and tour imaginable; you loved skating just for the fans and their entertainment when there wasn't judges critiquing every inch of your movement. It took you a long, long time to make up your mind on what to do during your break. While it was so tempting to just stay in America and ignore everything waiting for you on this side of the world, your best friends and family were able to convince you that 5 years was a long time to be away from home. Another option was to just keep pushing on with a different coach at your rink, but you couldn't bring yourself to trust anyone else other than Taeyeon and the team you had already built and just thinking about facing the next season alone left a bad taste in your mouth.

You never informed Chaehyun of your final decision because you knew seeing her reaction in person would be worth it.

Chaehyun had been there to pick up all the pieces after your fallout with Sunghoon. The two of you had known each other for a while since you both skated at the National Training Center since you were juniors, but she was the only one from the rink that reached out after you moved. When you felt isolated in the US after you first moved, Chaehyun had been the one to call you every day despite the time difference to make sure you didn't feel so alone. While you were friends before, Chaehyun became a sister to you thereafter.

It's weird to see all the people you considered best friends or once best friends all around you at the same table.

"Where are you staying?" Heeseung sips on his iced tea casually. He's sitting in front of you, with Sunghoon next to him.

You shrug, "Probably with my parents. It's easier and free."

Chaehyun pouts, "I wish I had a spare room for you!" and then she looks at Heeseung and Sunghoon, "If you two sleep together in the same bed, Y/N can take the other room!"

Heeseung reaches over to flick Chaehyun's forehead, "Why don't you give up your bed then? Plus Hoon snores."

"And you sleep talk," Sunghoon scoffs at his house mate. It's the first words he's said since he sat down at the table.

"You should get an apartment in our building, Y/N," Chaehyun suggests.

"I don't know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow, let alone a year's time, so getting tied down to a lease sounds irresponsible," you admit, "Realistically, I need to go back to America to train cause I don't think the KSU would be very happy about me training at their risk for national team members."

"Oh come on, you know the KSU still loves you!" Heeseung counters.

"That's all fine for appearances, but I don't make them any money so using their facilities is a different ball game," you say, "There's other rinks, of course. I just don't know what to do yet."

"There's no rush," Sunghoon offers hesitantly, "You're on your break to relax, so don't worry about what comes next just yet."

You're taken aback by his contribution; his words are much more comforting than you thought they would be considering where your relationship stood. A few months ago, you and Sunghoon were on opposite sides of a plate with a rift between you that you thought was getting larger and pulling apart as the years went by. Now, it feels like you're both hanging in the air in limbo, waiting for the next move to determine what comes next.

"Thanks Sunghoon," you nod simply, taking a sip of your drink. You don't fail to notice the unsure look that Chaehyun and Heeseung give each other before Chaehyun scrambles to change the topic of conversation.

"Y/N, you haven't seen your parents right? Can I come with you when you go home?" Chaehyun coughs, "It's been a while since I saw them too and I miss your mom's cooking."

Despite Chaehyun's greatest effort to tread into a more neutral conversation, Sunghoon's stomach turns in longing. He too misses your mom's cooking. He misses you too.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You thought that being Taeyeon's assistant coach-in-training was going to be light work. After all, you'd been on the receiving end of it for many years, so being on the other side should be a breeze, right?

You were terribly, terribly mistaken. And you think that you should give Taeyeon an even bigger raise once the season after this one starts again.

Look, you've always known how hard your coach works. You genuinely do owe your entire career to her and you can't imagine where you would have ended up if it wasn't for her. You just didn't know how much she did behind the scenes in addition to everything she did for you on the ice.

The two of you are sitting in her office at Taereung, crowded around two computer screens side by side. Her office is narrow and small- just a desk, a chair and a few cabinets to keep papers, but the window stretching from the ceiling to the floor overlooking the mountains and hills of Seoul makes it feel much bigger. A few of her medals from her professional career are framed and hung on the wall opposite the desk, and there's picture frames of the two of you, as well as of her and Key when they won their first World's of many, interspersed with her medals.

"What's wrong with her form in this one?" Taeyeon quizzes you, tapping her pen on the freeze frame blown up on one of the screens. It's a still of her oldest student Boeun in the air. At 16 years old, Boeun's already achieved many great things for her country. The upcoming season was around the corner and it was Boeun's first year competing in the senior division, so her training was getting even more intense.

"Her arms aren't tucked in enough," you note slowly, "That's gonna creat resistance and slow her spin, so she might land wobbly or under-rotate."

"Good," Taeyeon nods in satisfaction. The two of you have been at this for hours and you're barely halfway through her free skate. Taeyeon's mostly been explaining to you her own thought processes, but whenever she senses you zoning out or getting bored, she's quick to fire questions at you, "Okay, you can go now."

You do a double take at your coach, "Huh, what? An I really bothering you that much? We're only halfway through the program!"

Taeyeon chuckles dismissively, "You're amazing, Y/N. It's just that it's 3pm and you should be enjoying your season off. I know that you want to gain experience coaching, but it's only the start of the year and we have a long time."

You pout at her request, but end up nodding hesitantly, "Okay, if you say so."

Spinning casually in her chair, Taeyeon murmurs off handedly, "You should catch Sunghoon downstairs; he finishes around this time. Maybe ask him to get some coffee."

Narrowing your eyes at her, you packed up your things, "Is this you meddling?"

"Maybe," she smirked, drumming her pen on the table, "It's not my fault I know the skaters' schedules."

"Stop rewatching Our Beloved Summer. Not every one gets a second chance," she'd been talking your ear off all week about the K-drama she watches every time summer rolled around despite knowing the plot line by heart.

A ghost of a smile flutters on her face, "Maybe, but I think you do. There must be a reason you ended up back in Seoul all this time."

You quirk your eyebrow at her, "And the reason is you moving back here. Whatever, I guess I can see if I can find him, but if he left already, it's not my issue."

You say goodbye to your coach, tugging on your jacket and slipping out of the door. You completely miss the way she scrambled to her phone to text one particular Lee Junho.

Racing down the stairs, you prepare yourself to face Sunghoon alone for the first time since he came to your hotel room. You're somewhat glad that he didn't pester you all these months, instead choosing to use your mutual friends to keep up on you. On the other hand, there's a selfish part of you that wished he would keep chasing.

There's a gaggle of juniors that are on the youngest side all propped up on the boards and watching Sunghoon finish some jump training when you walk into the rink. They're all peering up at him with wide, sparkly, awe-filled eyes as he traverses through the air with a grace you know that's only reserved by him. You used to look at your seniors the same way too; you and Sunghoon would come in early for your shared conditioning training and just perch on the stands watching whoever was on the ice. It was a way to learn, but it was mostly just a way you kept your love for skating alive among all the hardships.

There was never anything better than watching someone you aspired to be, knowing one day, you'll be the one inspiring the next generation. As long as you worked hard, of course.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" a tiny girl with her hair slicked back into a neat bun catches sight of you, gasping in amazement.

Sunghoon pauses on the ice, head snapping around to find you. You give him a small wave and a subtle smile, motioning for him to carry on as you addressed the kids that were one by one realising who you were.

"Hi, how's it going?" you smile genuinely, "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're working in the gym, but we're on a break right now. Coach said that Sunghoon-oppa was on the ice, so we came to watch," the three girls giggle with each other, but there's a soft smile resting on the two boys's flushed cheeks. The one that noticed you steps up against the rest, "I'm a really big fan of you. Coach said that you used to train here and came back, so I've been waiting to meet you. Do you think I could get an autograph?"

She's playing with the hem of her pastel pink training top, but you can tell that she's trying to keep her voice stable. The kids aren't carrying anything themselves, so you take out a notebook and pen from the front pocket of your bag.

"What's your name?" they're all a bit shorter than you, so you bend at the knees to meet her gaze. She grins at you with her brace-adorned teeth and tells you her name.

You sign quickly, leaving an encouraging message of well-wishes, tearing off the paper and handing it to her. The other kids have formed a queue behind her and are looking at you expectantly and so shyly that your heart bursts with happiness. You didn't have many juniors around at your old rink and certainly not ones who truly knew who you were and where you came from.

"I'll be around all season," you tell them as you sign the last piece of paper, "Don't be shy to talk to me, okay? It's my job after all to make sure you guys all become the best skaters you can be. No one knows this life better than your seniors, so make use of us."

Their grins are splitting their faces as they nod excitedly and run off to wherever their coach had appeared from. She gives you a grateful nod for entertaining them and by this time, you notice Sunghoon walking over to you, skates already off.

"You sure have a fanclub here," Sunghoon muses lightly.

"Ha, I didn't mean to conduct my very own meet and greet, but they're all so adorable," you say fondly.

Sunghoon mirrors your expression as nostalgia clouds his eyes, "Remember when we saw Jaejoong-sunbae in our first week here and snuck out of lesson to find him in the building?"

You clap your hands together at the forgotten memory being pulled to the forefront of your brain, "Oh my gosh and our coaches scolded us so much when they hunted us down and found us making him sign our skates and our bags!"

"Junho was just salty that Jaejoong was the face of figure skating at their time and not him," Sunghoon watches his coach disappear into a tunnel on the other side of the rink, "I bet they did that to their seniors whenever they came to Taereung!"

"Yeah," you agree, "Have they already got your signature?"

His eyes twinkle, "Yeah, the girls always watch whenever they're here."

"Sounds like they have a crush," you fold your arms and chuckle, "Let them down gently, yeah?"

"Ah, don't want a reputation as a heart breaker around here now, do I?" Sunghoon laughs easily, but then he realises the words that slip out and he slaps a hand to his mouth, "Wait. Um."

"It's cool," you giggle, "Taeyeon told me you were about to finish training for the day. I thought that maybe we could get a drink somewhere?"

Sunghoon's eyes widen in surprise, "Really?" you nod, "Oh yeah, of course. Wait here; I'll grab my stuff from the locker room and we can go."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Something you never really thought about much was the fact that you and Sunghoon fell apart as teenagers. It was silly to say, but you had never considered the fact that now you're adults, your lives were very different.

Sunghoon was cruising down the highway with one hand on the wheel and the other propped up onto the door. His car is modern and shiny and his side profile from your view is exquisite- wait, what?

"When did you learn to drive?" you ask quietly, trying to keep your eyes on the road in front. There wasn't that much to do around the training centre, so Sunghoon suggested to go into the city and find a nice café in Hongdae to explore.

"It's been a couple of years. It was kind of necessary to get to Taereung when I moved out of the dorms," Sunghoon hums, "Do you know how to drive in the US?"

"I got my license, but I never really drove. Taeyeon and I lived together, so she would just drive the two of us everywhere," you recount, "She made me get my license cause it's easy over there. I'm not sure how well my skills will translate over here."

Sunghoon runs his free fingers through the platinum strands of his hair, "Let me know if you wanna go for a drive to learn. I can help you."

Trying to ignore the flush in your cheeks, you scoff playfully, "You would trust me with your nice car?"

Sunghoon meets your eyes and it burns through you so intensely that you immediately look away. Internally, you're beating yourself up for acting so pathetic around him.

He lets out a sound that's a cross between a laugh and an exhale, "I used to trust you with my life."

Dumbstruck, you keep quiet and chew on your bottom lip. Sunghoon doesn't press any further and the two of you just listen to the smooth r&b playing on the radio. Until you get to the parking space, it's silent, but you don't know what else to say to act casual around him. You stopped being casual with him 5 years ago.

By the time that you wrestle your seatbelt off and collect your bags from the floor of his car, Sunghoon has jumped out and raced around to open the door for you. It takes everything in you to not crumble.

"Thanks," you smile slightly. Sunghoon's stare remains intense and piercing.

He directs you into the café and the two of you awe and marvel at the array of cakes and pastries all decorated to look like animals or objects. He doesn't fight you when you breach the topic of paying for your own drink and confectionary, but he does carry the tray with both of your items over to a table by a window.

"Thanks for coming to see me and inviting me out," Sunghoon purses his lips hesitantly, not knowing whether to dive so deep so quickly.

You jam a fork into the chocolate cake dressed up as a bear, "I've made you wait long enough since World's. And I think nearly 6 years is a long enough time of enduring all this angst."

"You're right," Sunghoon utters, sighing deeply, "I just- I just don't even know where to start."

"The very start, I guess," you say sheepishly, "I never meant to wait until the day before to tell you I was leaving. The whole time that Taeyeon was convincing me to go with her, I was completely in denial about leaving. I think that I didn't want to tell you, because if I did, it would seem real that I was leaving you. You were the hardest thing I was leaving behind."

"Wonder what your parents would say to that," Sunghoon tried to joke, but he sounds more sad than anything as you delve back into the past, "I heard rumours about it, but I didn't want to confront you about leaving either. I just thought that there was really no way that we could ever be apart. I mean, our coaches had to schedule all of our training back to back because we were just so attached at the hip."

When you were young, everywhere you went, Sunghoon would be right beside you. School, the rink, the mall, the playground, the gym, the cafeteria- everywhere. You were like each other's lifeline.

"I was going to ask you to call, to keep in touch-"

Sunghoon's eyelids flutter close in regret, "And then I called you selfish before you could even say that. And I said so many words that I definitely did not mean. I'm sorry for that, Y/N. Please know that I really am."

Your eyes brim with stinging tears, so you crane your neck down and sip at your milkshake to calm down.

The hardest thing through the years was whenever you were left alone with your thoughts. Somehow, everything always led back to the boy that was now sitting in front of you. But for years, you couldn't escape the heartbreaking feeling every time you remembered the look of betrayal on his face when you told him you were leaving, and then the anger that seeped into his features.

"We were just kids," you bite your lip and swipe at your lash-line, "I wish I could go back in time and say goodbye properly."

Sunghoon pushed a piece of his cake around with his fork on the plate, "I was angry that you were leaving because I was going to confess to you that week."

Your gaze snaps up to his, "Really?"

"Mhm, I had been planning it and trying to work up the courage for so long at that point," he chuckles bitterly, "The fairground was opening up for the summer that week, if I remember correctly. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go and I was gonna try and confess then. You leaving so abruptly just broke my heart. I know it's not your fault though."

Your own heart cracks at the revelation, "I'm sorry, Hoon."

"And then I found out through Chaehyun that you were switching nationalities and it felt like we were two worlds apart," Sunghoon admits reluctantly.

You think back to when you were 17, being lured in by the country you held dual citizenship for and knowing that the deadline to choose a nationality was looming close, "There was so much depth in the Korean senior women's field. Taeyeon encouraged me to switch to increase the likelihood of winning national titles and getting spots at the Olympics. And they were willing to pump so much money into my training and paying Taeyeon that I couldn't say no."

"I know," Hoon nods affirmatively, "You don't have to explain yourself for that. You made the right choice and you're an Olympic silver medalist for it."

You smile weakly.

He continues, "The training centre felt so empty without you. For the first time, I actually had to make an effort to talk to the other athletes and none of them could measure up to you."

"I was really lonely in America," you confess in a small voice, "There were so many days that I almost called even though we left on such bad terms. I just wanted to hear your voice sometimes."

Sunghoon's eyes soften and his eyebrows pull together in regret, "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I missed you so much and I'm willing to do anything and everything to fix this- to fix us."

"And if I have to leave after this season?"

Sunghoon reaches over suddenly and wipes his thumb at the corner of your mouth. His finger ghosts over your lips for a second and your heart skips a beat and then begins to race.

"Sorry, you had some cake there," Sunghoon murmurs, "If you end up on the moon next season, I'll personally build a rocket to get to you."

Unconsciously, you let out a full laugh that causes a smile to invade his face. You bat at his arm, "Now, come on. That's too cheesy."

Sunghoon waits for you to stop laughing when he connects your eyes together, "But I mean it, Y/N. I need you in my life."

The steady, but quick thrum of your heartbeat pulses against your chest wall. All you can focus on is the adoring look that Park Sunghoon is directing at you. It feels like that's all you need.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

For someone who spent their whole life on frozen water, you certainly didn't spend much time with it... unfrozen. But Seoul in the peak of summer is something akin to hell on earth- you couldn't walk more than a few blocks without having to duck into a convenience store or any shop that had air conditioning. As much as you wanted to wear as little as possible to avoid soaked fabrics sticking to your skin, you recognised that you weren't in America anymore and the looks you'd get from the sweaty grannies was frankly guilt-tripping. Even hanging around the rink on those hottest days wasn't any fun- the ice was more temperamental than usual and the shock you felt the second you step outside after spending time somewhere relatively cool just intensifies.

On your day off, Chaehyun magically appears at your familial home, giving you a mischievous smile.

"Heeseung has a friend of a friend of a friend-"

You give her a pointed look, "You want us to crash a stranger's house party just so we can use their pool?"

Chaehyun humphs, "No! We're invited. Heeseung and Sunghoon are already on their way there, so get your ass in a bikini so we can go!"

"Sunghoon's coming?" your heart began to race a little faster at the thought, but Chaehyun throws a pillow at you before you can even collect yourself.

"You lovesick loser."

You catapult the pillow back, "Am not! I don't like him like that anymore."

"Tell that to the heart eyes you get anytime he's around. Since the two of you made up, you've both been insufferable dancing around each other," Chaehyun's voice takes on a mocking tone as she mimics you, "'Oh Chae, his triple axel is so pretty today!' or 'oh Chae his training top fits him so well! or 'oh Chae, he brought me coffee today!'"

You ignore the giggling girl behind you in favour of packing some towels and a change of clothes into your bag. Over the past few weeks since you resolved things with Sunghoon in the café, he's made it a mission to make your life hell- well, he doesn't know that.

You thought that there was no way you could ever like-like him again after all the hurt that you grew to associate with him, but recently, your head and your heart have been all over the place. It's been hard to see each other super often since your schedules didn't overlap much, but he went out of his way to do nice things for you, such as getting you drinks after he finished training and you were still working or dropping by little snacks with encouraging notes to the office for you to encounter once you came in.

There was also the glaringly obvious change in your dynamics in the fact that he grew up hot. Sunghoon had always been handsome even when you were kids (it's one of the reasons you developed a raging crush on him), but it's different now that you're adults. Your brain worked differently now and his appearance and the way he commanded the ice all while making training gear look like designer had you feeling some kind of way.

"Hurry up," your best friend whined from your bed. You humph noisily and speed up shoving random items that you think you'll need into the bag until she has enough and starts tugging on your arm. I mean, it's her fault she only gave you a few minute's notice from when she turned up at your door.

Chaehyun drives like a mad-man all the way to this elusive friend of a friend of a friend's house that you start thinking you might need to get your own car to get you to places in this city. But then you remember how pretty Sunghoon's profile looked from the passenger seat-

"Why are you smiling like that?" Chaehyun laughs, "You look like an idiot."

You roll your eyes, "I'm just happy to be going to a pool party."

"You're happy to go to a pool party so you can see Sunghoon shirtless-" you reach over and she yelps, "Yah! Don't hit the driver! I'm gonna drive us off this cliff!"

You retract your arm away from her, "Don't say stupid shit, Chaehyun."

"I better not see you staring later then," she murmurs under her breath as she pulls into a parking space near the house. You text Heeseung to come and get the two of you outside because you didn't want to walk straight into this guy's garden without the ones who invited you.

He meets you promptly, a cup of something in hand and sunglasses hanging on the tip of his nose, "Urgh, finally. Hoon and I were waiting until you two got here so we could swim. It's so hot!"

You've only been outside of the car for a couple of minutes, but there's sweat forming in beads on your hairline already. You follow Heeseung through the side gate towards the direction of blaring music and the smell of barbecue. It truly was a party, because you couldn't even locate Sunghoon once you stepped into the clearing.

There were people crowded on loungers and people hovering by the barbecue and even more surrounding a ping pong table that was being used for beer pong. The pool wasn't super crowded, mainly for the fact that this guy lived in a mansion and his pool was practically Olympic sized.

"Jay!" Heeseung calls over a tall man with slick back hair and a sharp jawline, who smiles kindly to the two of you, "These are my friends Y/N and Chaehyun. Guys, this is Jay's house."

"You have an amazing house," Chaehyun gawks, "What do you do?

"He's a model," Heeseung answers for him hurriedly, "Y/N, Sunghoon's over there, go get him."

Heeseung points to the opposite corner of the garden where you could make out a group of people sat on outdoor couches around an unlit fire-pit. You squint and try to focus, seeing Sunghoon conversing with a girl that was leaning her whole body into him.

You pull a sour face, "I think he's busy."

"Get him," Chaehyun nudges you encouragingly, "He doesn't even look happy to be there."

You huff loudly, already sensing their meddling from a million miles away. What could you do though? It was basically law that best friends would tease two ex friends who had feelings for each other in the past to get together.

Quickly muttering a goodbye to the host, who flashes you a charming grin, you stalk all the way over to fire-pit. As you get closer, you begin to hear their conversation.

"Your arms are really big," this girl runs the tips of her fingers along his arm that was stretched out on the couch behind this girl, but Sunghoon visibly recoils from her touch, "Aw, am I making you shy?"

You nearly puke at her sugar sweet tone and halt your steps instead to watch how Sunghoon would react. You didn't want to cock-block the guy if he was actually interested and you were reading the situation wrong.

"Um, thanks?" his voice is awkward and he takes  a swig of the liquid in his cup.

"What are you doing tomorrow? My friends and I are hosting a party at my house if you wanna come," she continues on, "It'll be really fun!"

"Ah, I'm not really into parties."

The girl pouts her glossy lips, "Really? How about we hangout alone then?"

"I told you that I-"

Annoyed at the thought of having to hear any more of this conversation, you clear your throat, causing Sunghoon's head to fly in the direction of the sound. He does a quick double take, but his face lights up all the way to his crinkled eyes once he realises it's you. You don't think you've ever seen a man stand up so quickly and this girl jumps back on the couch, clearly offended.

"Y/N, baby, you're here!" your eyes bulge out of socket when Sunghoon wraps his defined arms around your waist, making contact with the skin exposed by your cropped shirt. He nuzzles his head into your neck and leans up to whisper into your ear, "Play along, please?"

The girl on the couch scoffs at Sunghoon, "I thought you were just trying to brush me off when you said you had a girlfriend."

You narrow your eyes at her as Hoon settles beside you, keeping one hand squeezing your waist, "Then why didn't you get the hint? Do you wanna be a homewrecker?"

The girl stands up and rolls her eyes at you, "Whatever," she stomps away, stopping at a group of girls that are all staring at you menacingly.

"What was that?" you mumble to Sunghoon, who is smiling at you sheepishly and taking his arm off you.

He scratches the back of his neck, "Ah, sorry Y/N. She wouldn't leave me alone so I said I had a girlfriend."

"That didn't seem to work anyway," you retort in amusement, "And you were letting her get awfully close and touchy for someone who had a so-called girlfriend."

Sunghoon opens his mouth to apologise again, but a glimmer appears in his eyes that causes him to hold back and smirk, "Ah, why- were you jealous, Y/N?"

You grit your teeth and smack his chest, "In your dreams, Park. Let's go in the pool- it's so hot."

Mercifully, Sunghoon decides not to say anything else as he watches you put down your bag on the couch he was occupying and tug at your clothes.

"Look away," you murmur, causing Sunghoon's cheeks to redden. Thankfully, he could use the alcohol he was sipping on as an excuse as to why his face was so flushed as he turns around and pulls his own shirt over his head. He hears you unzip your skirt and drop it onto the couch, and then the pitter patter of your flip flops towards the pool, "Come on!"

Sunghoon only turns in time to see you slide into the pool off the side, so he quickly ducks down and follows. The heat is absolutely battering your skin, so you briefly plunge your entire body and resurface to find him smiling goofily at you.

"What?" you interrogate curiously.

Sunghoon shakes his head and splashes water up to his face, "Nothing, nothing. Aren't you glad that you came?"

"Well, I was forced to," you grin, splashing cheekily at him.

Sumghoon pouts and splashes back at you, "Are we playing this game?"

Cocking your head to the side in fake innocence, you peer up at him, "What game?" you scoop with your cupped palms and flick the amassed water over his body.

A mischievous look creeps up on his features and he smirks at you, "You don't know what you're getting into, Y/N."

You turn as quickly as you can in the water, launching off in a random direction in a pathetic paddle/waddle considering the fact you're not a great swimmer. His laugh echoes in the air as he dives and chases after you, and before you realise, his arms snake around your exposed waist and he drags and dunks you under the water. Thrashing, you kick against him, but Sunghoon's hold is too strong on your body even after you surface. You splutter the water out and rub at your eyes to get the chlorine water and your sticking hair away.

When you open your eyes, you realise that your bodies are pressed up against each other, him clinging to you, with your faces just mere centimetres apart. You're breathing heavy from your underwater struggle, lips parted and exhaling. Intently, you watch as Sunghoon's eyes peer into yours and then flash down to your lips before he cracks a grin.

"I guess I win?"

You grunt, pushing him away, "You have 5 seconds to run, Park."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Summer ceases for another year in the blink of an eye and autumn creeps in slowly, and then all at once. The leaves on the trees surrounding Taereung have long changed colours, now making their home on the ground in piles of yellows, oranges and reds. You're both eagerly anticipating and dreading the snow, mindful of the fact you haven't lived through a Korean winter in a long, long time.

You try to appreciate the chilly breeze with clear skies, but it's hard when you had gotten used to the same mild or scorching temperature year around.

Sunghoon sighs as he steps in front of you, watching you tug your gloved hands on the neck of your jacket, "You've forgotten all about our autumn and winter, haven't you?" He unwraps the wool scarf that was adorning his neck and places it around your own. You hope that he'll put down the flush on your cheeks to the weather.

"Hoon, it's fine. We're not even going to be walking far," you insist, moving to take it off, but he places a hand over yours and gives you a sharp look that has you backing down.

He takes the handle of the suitcase away from your grip and walks in front of you. You huff and chase after him, "Seriously, Sunghoon. What if you get sick? I'm not the one competing."

He flashes you a prince-like smile, "Then you'll just have to take care of me- ow!" he flinches as you swat at him, "It's fine, Y/N. This weather is nothing to me and I mainly brought it for you. I knew you wouldn't be prepared."

You quieten down and ponder on his words. You shouldn't be surprised- even when you were young, Sunghoon was always attentive to your needs. Not much had changed since and you feel like you've fallen into the routine of your old friendship again, with a hint of flirtatious remarks from him then and now.

It's a nice feeling to be getting along with him again. It's filled up and healed a crack in your heart that appeared when you left and was never mended until now. Even though it was hard at first to be open with him, he's doing a diligent job breaking down your walls and occupying the space beside you like he once did.

The walk from the airport drop-off to the entrance is decently long, but Sunghoon rolls the two carry-on suitcases beside him, while you just haul your handbag. You're meeting the rest of Team Korea seeded to this competition at the airport, which makes you nervous. There's one other women's skater and a pair of ice dancers travelling to America with their coaches and staff and they're so young that you don't know them from your junior days. As much as Sunghoon, your friends and your coach try to convince you otherwise, you're not a part of their country's staff and a lot of them are likely reluctant to talk to you about strategy and programs- especially the skater that you would compete against on the circuit.

Lee Yunah fakes a smile at you when the two of you join the team at the check in desk. She grins over at your companion and tells him that they're sitting next to each other in business class. You're preparing yourself for a near 13 hour flight in economy next to Junho, Sunghoon's coach. It was definitely nice of Team Korea to fly out their skaters in business class on the way to competitions- something you were also used to with your federation.

You don't really know why Lee Yunah isn't fond of you. Of course, she's never mean or outwardly vicious, but you get the feeling through her pointed looks and tight-lipped smiles that you weren't her favourite person. Most girls you know in the circuit are so sweet- they always congratulate you and make conversation whenever they see you, but you've never had a full on chat with her despite sharing a language. You know that she's a couple years younger than you, but only came to Taereung 2 years ago after training someplace abroad.

You're heading to Skate America with the team because you figured you could watch and then travel to your home to get some things you left behind and check on your apartment. It was currently left half-empty after Taeyeon moved all of her things out, but your belongings were still there. You had a cleaner come every month to make sure the apartment was still standing and wasn't being infested while you were gone, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to come and see it for yourself and maybe see a few friends.

You and Sunghoon mostly just sit in silence at the gate after you pass security, texting your families your whereabouts and telling anyone relevant that you were going to be off your phones for the duration of the flight. You queue up your playlist and try to search online the movies available on the flight to save some time picking on the plane.

At one point, he excuses himself to the bathroom and returns with your favourite drink in his hand.

"Saw it in the vending machine by the toilets," he shrugs casually, to which you thank him profusely. You're a big fan of airplane food, much to everyone's chagrin, but you absolutely loathe the small selection of drinks they have to offer. The iced tea will definitely carry you through the flight.

When you finally get onto the aircraft, you're delighted to find that only you and Junho are in the row of 4 seats, so he shuffles to the other end to give the two of you space in the middle. While it's not the window seat where you could rest your head on the side, you and Junho can definitely take turns stretching out across the unoccupied seats and having a better sleep. It's a night flight, so you're definitely going to be exhausted in a few hours.

Before you turn your phone to airplane mode, Sunghoon texts you a selfie from his seat, looking sad with an exaggerated pout despite the fact that he's in a lie-flat seat with a screen twice the size of yours. You send him multiple eye roll emojis before telling him to get some good rest on the flight.

It takes around 40 minutes for the plane to taxi, take off and climb before the seatbelt sign turns off and the plane reaches a constant altitude. The plot of the movie you chose is dragging on a bit, causing your eyes to droop already, when a figure appears from Junho's side and leans down next to him. You watch curiously as Junho stands up from his seat into the aisle and as Sunghoon crosses two other seats to plop down next to you.

"Hi," he breathes out.

"What are you doing here?" you pause the movie and quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Yunah wouldn't stop talking my ear off!" he grumbles, settling into the seat, "Even when I put the partition up, she put it down after 5 minutes."

"So what?" you muse, "Are you giving up your lavish life in business class to be uncomfortable in economy?"

"I don't wanna sit next to her," Sunghoon whines, "Her crush on me is suffocating. I thought she would have moved on by now."

Ah, there it was. It was pretty obvious to anyone that had eyes that Yunah had a big, fat crush on your friend. You also knew that Sunghoon was pretty oblivious when it came to things like this- or he was when you were younger. That's why it came as a surprise that he already knew.

"She confessed?"

Sunghoon lets his eyes flutter closed, his long lashes kissing the tip of his cheeks, "Mhm, maybe a couple weeks before you came to Seoul? I rejected her then, but she hasn't given up, it seems."

You tear your eyes away from him, afraid you'll do something stupid like brush the fallen lash that sits on his cheekbone with your thumb, "Why did you reject her? She seems like a nice enough girl to you."

"She's not who I want," Sunghoon murmurs without missing a beat. He doesn't even let you ponder on his words before he opens his eyes and turns to his coach, poking him with his finger, "Hyung, can you take my seat? I wanna lie down here."

Junho gives him a funny look and they exchange a few words that you tune out as you think about what Sunghoon means. Does that mean there's someone in his head that he's decided on? Someone he's crushing on?

As Junho happily waddles out of economy to occupy his newly upgraded seat, Sunghoon stretches out across the seats. You notice that his feet ever so slightly dangle to the side into the footwell, so you grab a pillow and place it on your lap.

"Sunghoon, put your head here," you pat the squishy fabric.

He looks up at you with big, shiny eyes that had the ice in your heart melting, "Are you sure?"

You give him an affirmative nod and watch as he shuffles his head up to your lap and nuzzles to get comfortable. There's a light, resting smile on his lips and you softly brush the hair out of his eyes.

"Goodnigh, Y/N. Wake me up when you wanna swap," he breathes out, eyes already squeezed shut.

"Goodnight, Hoonie."

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The gold medal hanging around Sunghoon's neck compliments the beam on his face as he poses for photos on the podium. Your heart squeezes in pride; you've been noticing how he's getting more and more consistent with his wins over the past two seasons and it's starting to look like he's going to dominate the male field single handedly. This was all you ever dreamed of when you were young and aspiring; winning and winning some more and being by each other's side. There were some bumps on the road with that, such as Sunghoon's run in with a bad form early on of his senior career, while you were experiencing the opposite. You sigh contently at the universe's plan to move everything around you as everything fell into place.

"Gold looks good on you, Park," Sunghoon is grinning at you as he walks over to you after the press conference, a while later.

"Do you ever get tired of it?" Sungjoon holds up the medal hanging around his neck delicately like it's a baby and the most precious thing he's laid his eyes on.

You nudge his arm with your elbow, "Don't act like this is your first; you're not that far behind me."

While you exploded on the scene as soon as you made your transition to seniors, Sunghoon's growth was gradual and more sustainable. He worked hard and steadily over the years, waiting patiently to reap his rewards. Now, he was decorated with nearly every medal in quick succession.

"Nah, you're miles ahead, sweets," he drops the term so casually you almost don't react, but by the time you realise, Junho is telling him it's almost time to warm up and run through his exhibition gala routine.

Sunghoon turns to you as he pulls the medal off his body and drops it around your shoulders, "Can you keep this safe for me? I'll see you after the gala, yeah?" his left eye drops into a wink before he takes off on a jog back into the direction of the rink.

You're stood there dumbfounded, fingers clasping the fabric of the medal. Junho stifles a laugh at you, making a note in his head to tell Taeyeon how your relationship has progressed in just a short time from the airport to now.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

"Welcome to my home sweet home," you breathe out as you step foot in your apartment for the first time in months.

It's a little chilly and the air is a bit stagnant, but otherwise, the apartment has been maintained well by your caretaker. You quickly turn on the heating and A/C to circulate the air while Sunghoon rolls his small suitcase in and takes off his shoes by the door. It's the first time you've seen shoes that weren't Taeyeon's next to yours in this apartment and it endears you to see it's Sunghoon's beat up shoes from when you were younger.

"You need new shoes, Hoon," you mumble pointedly at the raggedy pair.

He pouts cutely, "They're my favourite! They're perfectly moulded to my feet and we bought them together at the department store on my 16th birthday, remember?"

"And you are 21 now, Park Sunghoon," you crinkle your nose at him, "I think you can afford to part ways with them."

"It's not about affording, it's about our emotional bond!" he protests while he taps his sock-covered feet on the leather that was about to peel.

"Whatever. That is Taeyeon's old room. Put your stuff in there and I'll find some bed sheets," you point at the door on one side of the living room. You cross the shared area to reach your own bedroom and the linen closet.

By the time that you managed to pair up two sets of everything to adorn your stripped beds, you find Sunghoon in the kitchen, snooping through your cupboards. You doubt that he would find anything; fresh food hasn't crossed the threshold since you left and you did a freezer clear-out of most things too.

"Are you hungry? There's not gonna be any food, so we can order in," you pass by behind him as you go to drop the sheets in the room.

The two of you had breakfast in the hotel buffet in the morning with the rest of Team Korea, but after that, you were busy packing your bags and stressing about making it to the airport in time to eat between Texas and your home. It's creeping up on dinner time, so as athletes, you were starving.

"Can we order Korean food?" Sunghoon's tone has a cheeky lilt to it, which you don't understand until he turns around and you find green bottles in his grasp.

You gasp, "I left soju here? I thought I drank them all when I had a goodbye get together with my friends. What a nice surprise, but should we be drinking?"

Sunghoon shrugs and places three bottles on the dining room table, "Why not? I just won Skate America so we can celebrate, I guess. And we don't have any schedules or training for the next few days."

You always planned to visit your apartment after the competition even if it required a short plane ride to a different state. What you hadn't initially decided was whether you would invite Sunghoon or not. In your head, it was going to be a bit awkward inviting Sunghoon to a trip just alone straight off the bat without any of your friends first, but Chaehyun convinced you that there was nothing wrong inviting your friend. At one point, you considered each other best friends and you wouldn't have hesitated in the past, even when you did have a crush on him.

Convincing Heeseung and Chaehyun to fly to the States and make it a group treat came to no avail as they were both going to Skate Canada just a few days after Skate America and therefore would need to be using this time intensely training. You considered taking a trip over to Halifax and watching your other best friends too, and then trying to convince them to come back with you, but going coast to coast back and forth was tiring and time-wasting. You don't think that Taeyeon would appreciate you skipping out on more days of work back in Korea just because you couldn't stomach the thought of being alone with Sunghoon in a private place.

In the months you've been in Korea, you've definitely been alone with Sunghoon- you eat together often, you work out together often, you walk around shopping districts and café hunt together often, but you haven't been alone with him with nowhere to run to yet. This is your apartment after all.

After you order the food, you convince Sunghoon to go and set up the bed and unpack his belongings a little, while you did the same in your room. Apart from the stripped bed, the room seemed largely untouched and a little empty. Still, you left behind some memorabilia such as some of your competition gifts (all the medals and trophies were in the living room, as they were celebrating both you and your coach), pictures with your friends and team on this side of the world and a heap of plushies that you couldn't justify hauling with you all the way to Korea.

You took most of your clothes to Korea, but you left behind your competition dresses that were displayed on a rail. Fondly, you inspected each of them and let the warmth of the memory fill your heart. While you were missing competing already, you know in your heart that this break is what you need so you don't burn out too fast; you want to be with the sport for as long as possible, even if you did foolishly contemplate retiring at first.

After intense and thought-provoking conversations with your coach and your best friends, you came to the decision that taking a break was a much easier and less-permanent step than announcing you were retiring off the bat. You know you made the right decision when the thought of coming back on the ice made you feel excited, instead of dread.

Your door was ajar, but you still get shocked when Sunghoon knocks on the wood to let you know of his presence, "The food came, Y/N."

"Oh, really? Sorry, I didn't hear it but thanks for getting it," you furrow your eyebrows at how you spaced out.

Sunghoon steps further into your bedroom, which has you training your eyes on him carefully as he perches on the end of your bed, "It's weird not knowing what your bedroom looks like now, when I used to have them all memorised."

Your heart clenches at the thought. When you still lived at home with your parents, Sunghoon lived nearby and was always around for play dates in your room or house. As you grew up, the two of you would study together on your large desk side by side with the chair that he stole out of your parents' office. When you both moved into the dorms briefly, you would find ways to sneak him into your room even when boys weren't allowed in the girls' dormitory. He spent a lot of time in your dorm room napping while you did online school before the two of you would head over to the rinks for training.

You hang your costume from the last Olympics back onto the white rail, "Well, now you know."

Sunghoon takes this as an invitation to inspect more purposefully. There's a printed picture of you, Chaehyun and Heeseung on the pin board above your desk. From Heeseung's hair colour, Sunghoon could tell it was from a couple of years ago. There's a few newspaper clippings up about your victories and a few childhood photos of you on the ice. When he finds that there's nothing to indicate his previous presence in your life, he feels a little guilt, even though he expected it.

He was such a big part of your life once- and you to his- but misunderstandings had forced the two of you apart, mainly due to his own angst. If he wasn't so stupid and young, maybe his face would appear on your pinboard too to signify his importance.

"I can feel you thinking over there," you chuckle and sit next to him, "What's up?"

Sunghoon's eyebrows are knitted together in some kind of frustration, "I missed so much of your life because I was so up my own ass. You achieved all the things we talked and dreamed about for so long and I couldn't even celebrate with you or tell you how proud I am of you. I'm sorry, Y/N."

His words take you aback and you instinctively lean into his body, "Stop saying sorry, Hoon. We agreed to move past it, remember?"

He kisses his teeth, "I know, but I'm still so angry at myself for doing that to us and pushing us apart when it was the exact opposite of what I really wanted."

Your heart begins to race as it so often does when you're faced with Park Sunghoon. You turn your head towards him to find him already looking at you with parted lips. You fight with your might to keep your eyes up as your fingers grasp the bedsheets.

His words nearly echo what he said on the plane about Yunah not being the one he wants.

"What did you really want?" your voice drops to a whisper, reluctant to ask in fear of having to face his answer.

There's a moment when his eyes scan down your face and land somewhere lower, but he's meeting your gaze again quickly as a knowing smile stretches across his lips, "Are you sure you wanna hear it?"

There's a churning in your stomach as you examine his expression. It's so unreadable and unfamiliar to you that something inside you snaps and you jump up, "The food is gonna go cold. And the soju's gonna go warm," you speed walk out of the room and leave behind a chuckling Sunghoon.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Spending your teen years in America where you just barely became legal to drink meant that you didn't get a chance to build up your alcohol tolerance the same way Korean teens did. While you vehemently do not condone drinking if Taeyeon asks, you still know that in Korea's heavy-drinking culture, teens were able to access alcohol much earlier and easier and drank a lot more than you and your same-aged friends you made in America. At the same time, you didn't go to a physical college to be able to engage in questionable behaviours like underage drinking at parties or with college friends since most of your friends were fellow athletes who had it drilled in them to take care of their bodies. While in Korea, it was practically a rite of passage to sneak in alcohol for special occasions and not so special occasions to the dormitories once the lights went out and the adults went to sleep.

You're a testament of that cultural and social gap as your head lulls heavily in the air, while Sunghoon watches you in half amusement, half concern. You seemed okay for a while, matching his pace with shots as you talked casually and ate the takeout and then suddenly it seemed to hit you all at once and you were slurring and giggling at nothing and dropping your head. Although you protested, he managed to cut off your alcohol and even poured down the remaining liquid down the sink so there was no chance of you getting any further gone.

Sunghoon was definitely buzzed too, to the point that risky decisions seemed appealing to him now, but his concern for you overtook any feeling.

"We should get you to bed now, Y/N-ie," Sunghoon hums as he pats your head flopped on the table, "Let's get up."

"No!" you bang your fist on the table softly, "I don't wanna. I wanna spend time with you!"

Sunghoon's heart leaps out of his chest hearing those words, "We have all day tomorrow and the day after and then we have the whole ride back to Korea. Plus, we practically work together."

You murmur something incoherent into the table and Sunghoon has to urge you to lift your head up.

"I said that we barely see each other at the rink," you mumble again, peering up at him adorably.

Since the season kicked off, your schedules were busier, but it endears Sunghoon to know that you were thinking about him, "I'll make more of an effort to see you more often then. But we should get your drunk ass to bed now."

"I'm not drunk," you hiccup cutely as your face scrunches up and then relaxes as you examine his features, "Has anyone ever told you that your moles are really pretty?"

Sunghoon is struck silent by you so suddenly and he thinks he's forgotten how to breathe when your hands reach up to cup his face. Your expression is so soft yet determined as your fingers ghost over the placement of the marks- over his nose, under his eyes and then the pad of your thumb presses gently into his skin just a few centimetres away from the corner of his lips.

Your touch on him is kickstarting his heart into gear and his heart is beating out of his chest. It's almost like all at once, you've completely undone all his resolve when this whole time, he's been trying to push his feelings away in order to restore and rekindle his previous friendship with you.

But let's face it, Sunghoon doesn't want to be your friend.

Or at least he doesn't want to be just your friend anymore.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" his own hands find their way up to cup your hands, which makes your fingers press deeper into his skin.

"You're so handsome, Hoonie. You grew up so well," your voice is so dreamy that Sunghoon becomes hyper aware that you might not say these things when you're sober. He tries to pull your hands off him, but you just bat away at his grasp, "So, so pretty. Makes me want you all to myself."

Your table is abnormally narrow, or so it feels like. With the way that you're leaning up to him, he only needs to move a little to meet you and maybe press his lips into yours-

Sunghoon shakes away his tipsy thoughts as he forcefully removes himself from your caress and walks around the table to hoist you up, "Let's get you to bed, Y/N. Seriously."

The walk to your room is precarious. Sunghoon feels like he's getting more drunk with every step he takes trying to manoeuvre your unwilling body. You're clinging onto him for life, groaning and complaining about not wanting the night to end, but he tunes you out to prioritise taking care of you. You both got changed into pyjamas after your second shot, foreseeing the night to end a bit tipsy and therefore likely disinhibited from normal tasks. All Sunghoon has to do is peel back the covers and coax you into lying down.

He brushes the hair out of your shining eyes once he gets you to settle on the bed, "I'm gonna get you some water, okay? Stay here."

Your hands clutch at his bicep, not even going all the way around, "Hoonie, I missed you."

He smiles fondly at you, "I missed you too, Y/N. I really did."

When you let your heavy eyelids fall, you also let a smile grace your face. Sunghoon captures this moment in his mind to store in the part of his brain that you've made home in and he decides that no matter what and if it is up to him, he'll never leave your side again.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

"Sunghoon, this is Eric," you gesture between the blonde haired guy beside you and the pink haired one in front of you, "Have you guys met before?"

"In passing when I would give him dirty looks on behalf of you," Eric snorts, "And we've met a few times on the podium, right?"

Sunghoon nods stiffly, "Yeah, a few."

Eric quirks his eyebrow, "Well, anyway, it's good to finally meet the elusive Park Sunghoon. I've heard lots about you, not good things as you imagine."

You reach over to smack Eric's arm with a scalding expression, "Eric, behave."

He lets out a boisterous laugh that has introverted Sunghoon squirming in his seat, "Relax, i'm just playing. Really. I'm glad that you two are on good terms again. Y/N-ie always talked about you and while it was out of anger mostly, I could tell that behind it all, she missed you."

"This is not behaving either," you mutter with a glare at your friend.

Eric was a fellow skater at your club. He joined the year after you came from a different club in the city to work with your coach's mentor. The two of you became fast friends despite him being a couple years older than you and he was one of the friends you were missing since moving back home.

Over the years, you grew more comfortable in confiding in Eric about your friends back home and specifically about Sunghoon after he witnessed a little spat between you a few World's ago.

Sunghoon has always been the shy and quiet type, which is one of the reasons why he struggled so much without you- you were practically his only friend then. Eric, on the other hand, is too extroverted and talkative for his own good. You like to think you're a happy medium in between them both. However, you know that this meeting won't go off without a hitch.

"Y/N-ie, do you know yet if you're gonna come back next season?" Eric takes a sip out of his cocktail. The three of you are sitting on a shaded table on the porch of a brunch spot, basking in the slight warmth of the October sun. It's a stark contrast to what you'll come home to, "We all miss you so much over here."

You feel Sunghoon stiffen up beside you and you cast a quick glance at him. He's trying to play it cool by mixing around the mojito he ordered with the straw.

"I'm not sure yet. It feels like I just got to Korea, to be honest," you skirt around the question to avoid making Sunghoon uncomfortable. In all honesty, it was the truth. You wanted to focus on enjoying your time there without worrying too much about the future. Then again, you had to make sure that your team was ready for you wherever you were going to end up in the world. While Taeyeon was arguably the most important part of the team, there were so many more people behind the scenes that shaped your career.

"We really love having Y/N around," Sunghoon adds on nonchalantly. You can tell that he's trying to avoid voicing out his real opinion in favour of supporting whatever decision you'll come to make.

"So do we," Eric grins, "I miss having my partner in crime around."

Sunghoon resists the urge to roll his eyes out of his head. You were his partner in crime first. Plus, you never even mention Eric much around him. How close were the two of you really?

"The staff are probably so happy that we're separated," you giggle in acknowledgement, "Who are you stealing the Zamboni with now?"

A memory flashes through the forefront of Sunghoon's mind when you first broke into the Zamboni cupboard and stole the keys. You two were practically punished for days when you were caught lapping the rink in circles at the age of 14 and subsequently ruining the work of the driver. Thankfully, you did learn over the years at your new rink how to operate the machine, so stealing it with Eric was mostly just for the thrill.

If emotions could manifest in real life, Sunghoon was green with envy. He would never accuse you of replacing him when the fall out was his fault anyway, but the thought that you did things with Eric that you used to do with him made him feel so sick.

The way that Eric addressed you with soft nicknames and a teasing tone had Sunghoon's stomach churning. He practically sat through the brunch seething in silence, only speaking when you addressed him and asked him a question.

What was even worse was that you hadn't talked about the events of the previous night at all. By the time that Sunghoon returned to your room after fetching your glass of water and trying to calm himself down in the kitchen, you were already fast asleep in dreamland. In the other room, Sunghoon seemingly couldn't sleep a wink until the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by you frantically telling him to get up as you were gonna be late to meeting Eric.

So here you all were, nursing your hangovers with even more alcohol and a whole lot of carbs.

Eventually, Eric had to run for his final fitting for his costume that he was debuting at the Grand Prix de France in a few weeks, leaving you and Sunghoon to stroll along the streets lined with brunch spots and themed cafés.

"How'd you find Eric? I know he's kind of a lot at first..." you chuckled awkwardly, sensing only halfway through the meeting that it was probably not a good idea to have them meet just yet.

"I'm just glad that you had some friends over here," Sunghoon said sincerely.

"It was hard at first, but once Eric came, he dragged many people into our little group of friends," you agree quietly. Sunghoon is walking tensely beside you, fingers clasped behind his back instead of swinging by your side like usual.

"Mhm."

"You're not jealous, are you?" you ask hesitantly, looking straight ahead at the strip in front of you.

"A little," his confession takes you by surprise. You halt your step and catch his arm.

"Eric is flirty but he doesn't actually mean anything by it."

Sunghoon lets out a deep sigh and gestures for the two of you to sit on a nearby bench. It's a weekday morning, so there's not that many people hanging around the streets. People were mainly just walking past with a purpose to reach a certain shop instead of walking casually like the two of you were.

"After last night, I don't know where we stand," Sunghoon gnaws at his lip nervously. As much as he'd love to pretend nothing was changing between the two of you to preserve the good terms you were on, he feels like he can't carry on any longer.

The memories of the previous night come rushing back to you, not having been able to think about it beforehand due to your rush to meet Eric. You fold into yourself in embarrassment and move away from Sunghoon. You're not even internalising the meaning to his words, too preoccupied with cringing internally at your actions- there was a reason why you didn't drink much.

"Y/N," Sunghoon scoots closer to you, "Did you hear what I said?"

You peak at him through your hands covering your face in shame, "Hm?"

Sunghoon laughs softly at you as he moves your hands away from your face gently, "I said I don't know where we stand."

You cock your head at him, "Are you asking me what are we?"

Sunghoon's face heats up, "I'm just as nervous and embarrassed as you are about this, Y/N. Just give me a straight answer."

His candour inspires a bout of bravery in you as you give him a confident smile, "As I said last night, I want you all to myself."

You can practically see the moment a glimmer of hope sparkles in his eyes as he shuffles even closer to you. Your thighs are touching at this point, body twisted towards one another.

"Really? In what way?" he presses on.

You try to look away, intending to evade the conversation and point out something irrelevant, but Sunghoon reaches up to your cheeks and keeps your face straight at him. His expression tells you everything you need to know.

He's been waiting for your answer for practically 6 years.

"In the way that I'm in love with you," you confess.

When you spent countless nights pondering on what exactly your feelings were for Park Sunghoon, you always imagined that telling him would be hard. When you were young teens, confessing to your best friend was something that had you panicked and flustered, not even once entertaining the idea in fear of ruining your friendship over a crush.

But looking up at him now with that pleading and hopeful look on his face had the words falling out of your mouth.

It felt so natural to tell him, the same way that breathing came easy to any human. You used to always tell each other that you loved each other, but telling him you're in love with him? It was as automatic as your heart beating.

"Okay, good," Sunghoon is completely drowning in you, but is trying to keep his composure, "Cause I definitely want you all to myself in the way that I've been in love with you for years and years and I don't intend in sharing."

You chuckle at him, "We're going to have to work on that, I think."

Sunghoon scoffs and suddenly lunges forward on the bench. His nose bumps against yours, "You're mine, Y/N. And I'm yours too."

His breath fans over your lips and you're so desperate to push your face forward and connect your mouths together, but he places a teasing thumb between your lips.

"Sunghoon," you grumble.

"Yes, sweets?"

"Can you just kiss me now?"

A smirk envelops his facade as he moves his thumb out of the way, "My pleasure."

Your lips slot together so naturally that you don't know how you've gone this long without connecting the other piece of the puzzle. You're thankful that the street is deserted as Sunghoon presses his lips on yours gently at first, but then more purposeful and deeper as you reciprocate and move your lips against his.

Kissing Sunghoon feels like fireworks exploding, butterflies in your stomach and the comforting  feeling of home all at once. One hand is caressing his cheeks, moving over the mole just under his eye on top of his cheek bone and the other is running through his hair. Sunghoon's hands are clasping your cheeks like he's afraid you're going to run or disappear as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth.

You whimper into his hold and let him take the lead. Everything has been leading up to this moment. You knew that time when you took him to a café to talk that this was going to be inevitable. Your heart was always going to be pulled to Sunghoon's and there was no use fighting it.

The famous saying that there's a very fine line between love and hate was all too true. The changes in your relationship over the years were always just sides on the same coin. At the end of the day, you completed each other.

"I love you, Y/N. You don't know how long I've been wanting to tell you that," Sunghoon mutters against your lips.

"Likewise, Hoonie," you press a soft and fleeting kiss on his swollen lips before you pull away properly, "But we should go somewhere more private."

Sunghoon coughs in surprise and begins to splutter, "O-oh? Damn, take me out on a date first!"

You rise to your feet and give him a disgusted expression, "Shit, Hoon. Not like that! Urgh, I'm taking it back."

Sunghoon chases after you in glee as you stomp away, "Wait, Y/N! Come back! You still haven't answered- what are we?"

"Back to enemies," you turn your upper body to glare at him, flipping him off with your middle fingers, "Boyfriend privileges revoked before they even started!"

You're practically sprinting away from him at this point and Sunghoon has never been happier running after someone as he feels his heart leaping out from his chest, "Boyfriend? Y/N, come back!"

"No!"

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You watch from the stands as Sunghoon finishes up another run through of his free program after a small tweak to one of his elements. As he hits the final pose, you explode into claps and cheers.

"That was so clean," you praise beside Junho who was nodding approvingly.

Sunghoon skates over to the gate and sighs contently. Junho claps him on the back, "You're all done for the day, then. Good job, Sunghoon."

"Thanks, hyung," Sunghoon grins, "Is there anyone using the rink after me?"

"Hm, I don't think so? Usually it'd be Heeseung but they're not back yet from Canada," Junho ponders the question, "Are you gonna keep practising? Don't overwork yourself."

"No, I just thought I'd drag Y/N onto the ice today," he looks over at you, your expression turning into surprise, "You have your blades on you?"

Junho bids the two of you goodbye, reminding Sunghoon that he had some schedule tomorrow with a sponsor. You eye Sunghoon nervously, "Why do you wanna skate together?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, "It's been a while since we've properly shared the ice. I thought it'd be fun."

You leave him skating laps around the oval as you fetch your shoes from the locker room. Since you arrived in Seoul all those months ago, you've barely been skating- maybe twice a week when helping some of the younger girls you've been coaching. You're definitely out of practice, but you figure that you still have a little time left before you had to start getting used to skating all day, every day again ahead of the new season.

The shoes are a second skin to you and it will never feel foreign slipping them on no matter how long it's been. Your first steps on the ice are still confident - you haven't lost touch at all.

"Do you think we could have been a good pairs team?" you ask Sunghoon in amusement as he reached out a hand to you skating towards him. You crash into his body with a big 'oof!' as he envelops you into a warm hug. Thankfully, you're pretty appropriately dressed for the ice today.

"We probably could've been the best," Sunghoon nods along, "We trusted each other so much."

His past tense has your face falling in a frown that he quickly catches, "And I still trust you with my life. I'm working to make sure you will trust me again too."

Sunghoon's voice is soft as he releases you, but slides his fingers in between yours. He starts pulling you along side him slowly, just gliding beside each other.

"I love you, Sunghoon," you tell him suddenly, feeling so overjoyed at being by his side again on the ice at the second rink you called home together, "Thank you for trying with me again."

"No, thank you for letting me come back into your life," Sunghoon bounces back, sending you into a spin and then capturing your grip again, "Being with you makes me want to be better every day for you."

You feel so warm inside despite the temperature of the indoor arena as you move together in tandem. If you close your eyes, you can picture your 15 year old selves holding hands and leisurely skating around like couples at pop-up Christmas-time ice skating rinks. Instead, you were just two kids with the weight of the figure skating world's expectations on you, holding onto each other for support. 

"I don't think I want to leave at the end of this season," you admit quietly to him, "Everyone I love is here and I don't have any reasons to go back. I'll do my best to convince my federation and team, but I'm sure Taeyeon will find a rink for me in Seoul or lobby to have me here if there's space."

Sunghoon squeezes your hands assuringly, "Whatever decision that you make, I'll support you. If you're not allowed or it will take another season to sort everything, don't stress or worry about it. I'll be by your side."

You give him an appreciative look and nuzzle your head into his neck. Sunghoon twists to drop a searing kiss on your temple.

Time passes quickly as the two of you skate- at one point, you were playing a game of tag chasing each other all around the rink and pulling out your best tricks. Sunghoon was then curious on trying to pull off some pairs skating stunts, which you indulged for a bit like that couple's yoga challenge, but quickly had to shut down when he was getting too ambitious. Maybe you'll ask Taeyeon and Kibum to show you guys a few tricks one day.

As you were also done for the day, Sunghoon convinces you to come over to his apartment to watch a movie and have some dinner. Heeseung and Chaehyun were coming back later in the evening from Canada, so he proposed that you would tell your two best friends then the new update in your relationship. It's been a week since you got back from the states, but you had just missed your other best friends going to their own competition and they were far too preoccupied to talk.

"If you're gonna stay in Seoul, do you think you'll want to move out?" Sunghoon asks you as he prepares the food on the stove. Apparently, Sunghoon has been attempting to learn how to cook, but you'll be the judge of that since he used to be wary of going near the kitchen after a tragic ramen fire.

You're sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching him work from the side. You volunteered to help, but Sunghoon was determined to cook for you himself, "Maybe Chae and I could move in together if her lease is up soon. We've always talked about doing that one day."

Your childhood home wasn't horrifically far, but anything closer to the rink and to your friends would always be more convenient. You've enjoyed spending time with your family again after all that lost time, but you think that it wouldn't hurt to move out again if you were going to stay in the city. It was just something you had to discuss with Taeyeon once you thought about it some more.

"Mhm, you two could move into a 2 bed in the building if there's one available," Sunghoon agrees, "Or maybe the 4 of us could get a house somewhere or something."

You raise an eyebrow at him, "Woah, take me out on a date first!"

Sunghoon groans at your teasing tone as he stirs the stew on the pot, "Speaking of, will you let me finally take you out this weekend?"

After you got back from the States, the two of you had been swarmed with work and haven't been able to fully explore the relationship that blossomed between you while you were away. You saw each other daily at Taereung, but you hadn't had time to go out together on an official date.

"Looking forward to it, Park," you chirp, "Is it gonna be a surprise?"

He nods knowingly and turns around to bring the pot of kimchi-jjigae over to the pot holder in front of you. The smell is inviting, warm and comforting, perfect for a chilly evening as it was outside. It smells like home and watching Sunghoon buzz around the kitchen collecting the cutlery and bowls feels all the more domestic. You could definitely get used to this.

"I really hope it tastes good," Sunghoon exhales as he takes the bar stool beside you and scoops out a portion of soup and rice for you, "Eat up, my Y/N."

You take the first scoop tentatively, still a bit unsure of how good his cooking will actually be, but when the flavours melt in your mouth and tingle your tastebuds, you squeeze your eyes shut in glee, "Urgh, Hoon, it's good. I'm surprised."

Sunghoon claps joyfully and begins to portion out his food too, "I can't wait for you to see all the tricks I have up my sleeve. I've had to learn a few things about life."

You watch him eat fondly, thinking about how exciting it is to learn about each other again and how you grew as people in the time apart. Knowing everything about a person isn't as exciting as the adventure of slowly discovering new things about each other that makes the person who they are now. The fall out isn't something you'd ever wish for again, but it's time to consider the positives instead of dwelling in sorrow.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Sunghoon presents casually as he slurps some broth.

His question has you choking on a piece of kimchi. Sunghoon simply laughs at you and pats your back almost teasingly. When you were in America, you maintained your boundaries in separate rooms as you didn't want to rush into anything, but you must've told Sunghoon that you had a late start the following morning and so did he.

You used to hold sleepovers as kids all the time until you hit puberty and your parents had to pull back on that. When you were in the dorms, you were spending so much time with each other anyway that it didn't feel necessary to have sleep overs. Why cram in one room when Sunghoon could just sneak back a few minutes to his own bed whenever you finished what you were doing?

"Nevermind," Sunghoon giggles melodiously as you eye him.

"No, no- I do. It's just that I've never stayed around a guy's place before," you're likely blushing as Sunghoon squeezes your cheeks.

"You're so cute, Y/N-ah," he coos at you, "But this is the kind of stuff we do while dating, right?"

"Us dating still seems so foreign," you wrinkle your face tight, "It makes me happy, but it's so strange."

Thankfully, Sunghoon doesn't take offence, "I know what you mean; it's definitely going to be a transition, but it's all I ever wanted so we're just gonna have to fight the awkwardness. We can start by overcoming cuddling tonight."

The way he phrases his words has you chortling along with him and he just rolls his eyes and urges you to eat up so you could get ready for the evening ahead. Once you finished your bowl,  packed up the leftovers in the fridge for Heeseung and washed the dishes while he dried, Sunghoon was rummaging through his room to find spares of everything to lend you since you were unprepared.

He had better skincare than you, so that wasn't a problem and his scents in his toiletries weren't so musky and masculine that it hurt your nose when you used them in the shower. Sunghoon was glad to remember that he bought his toothbrush in a pack previously, so you brushed your teeth together bumping hips and competing with each other to see who would spit first. He picked out a baggy shirt for you and some joggers that had a drawstring so you could be comfortable.

Eventually, you found yourselves with your legs tangled together on the couch after he dragged his duvet out to the living room. They had one of those modular couches that was L-shaped in the day, but could be moved around to create a sort-of bed situation that was perfect for movie nights. He had put on the latest Spider-Man film, remembering how you used to watch Andrew Garfield's franchise back when you were younger and you used to think he was so cute.

"Do you still think he's the best Spider-Man?" Sunghoon hums as he appears on the screen in what was once one of the exciting appearances in cinema.

"Yeah, but Tom Holland has played his version in so many movies now and he's really good," you reply after some thought, turning to find him incredibly close to your face, "Woah."

Sunghoon's arms were wrapped around your middle, but he pulled you closer to snuggle tighter, "You're so cold, baby."

You hide your face into his chest and muffle your voice against his shirt, "You're making me shy."

His body begins to vibrate as he breaks out in fits of giggles, "Trust me, I feel shy around you too. You honestly make my heart do crazy things without even trying."

You pound your fist against him, "Hoon, stop!"

"What?" he whines defensively, moving his hand up to your chin to guide you out of hiding, "Look at me."

Your cheeks are permanently red around your best friend as he gazes down at you with all the fondness in the world in his eyes, "Stop it or I'll leave!"

Sunghoon rolls his gleaming eyes playfully and nudges his nose against yours- something you quickly learned he loved to do before kissing you, "Nah, you love me too much to leave."

Instead of answering him, you just connect your lips together again, letting his natural warmth spread to your cold body. His arms tighten around you, pressing you up against him as he pressed rougher. He tasted like the sharp mint from your toothpaste, combined with his cherry lip balm that he had applied after, but there was also his own very distinct taste that you were growing more addicted to.

You feel him smile into the kiss before he squeezes at your waist and moves so that he was more hovering over you instead of beside you. Your heartbeat was thudding rapidly in your chest as he pulled away but then immediately attached his lips onto your neck in a spot that had you breathing out his name like it was sacred.

You must have been so preoccupied in Sunghoon that both of you missed the beeping of the keypad and the sound of the handle turning.

"Oh shit," Heeseung gasps as the front door swings open to give him a perfect view of the two of you.

You and Sunghoon let out a yelp that was more surprised from you but frustrated from him. He shoots the fellow skater a menacing glare, "Do you know how to knock?"

Heeseung scoffs at the two of you, "Well, yes. Except that you're in the living room and this is also my apartment. So happy you guys made up but can you keep making out in your room, please?"

At this point, you've shuffled so far away from Sunghoon and are hiding your face in the comforter in embarrassment. You wanted to tell them you were together, but that didn't mean you wanted Heeseung to catch you two.

"Who's making out?" you hear a familiar voice fade in behind Heeseung, "You left your passport with me, Heeseung-"

Chaehyun stops in her tracks when her eyes land on you on the couch, looking all bashful with Sunghoon emitting an annoyed aura. She presses Heeseung's passport into his chest without breaking eye contact with you as she approaches you menacingly.

"Y/N, Sunghoon. Do you have something to tell us?"

"Yes, but Hee walked in before we could get a warning that you were back," you sheepishly say.

"I actually texted the groupchat when we pulled up to the parking garage," Heeseung interjects, but Sunghoon just flips him off.

"This-" she points between you and Sunghoon, "Must have happened in America, right?"

"Yeah, we just wanted to wait until you two got back," Sunghoon shrugs, "Speaking of which, congrats on bringing home two golds guys."

Your eyes widen in remembrance as you leap up to crush your best friend in a hug, "Oh my God, yeah! I'm so happy for you Chae. And you, Hee."

Chaehyun rubs your back and nuzzles herself into you, "I guess there's much to celebrate tonight. Do you guys wanna drink? I'm really happy for the two of you as well."

You pull back from Chaehyun and direct your sparkling eyes over to your boyfriend, "Yeah, me too."

Your eyes dart over to Heeseung as well, who was on a sudden mission to find any and all alcoholic beverages he had in the apartment. Sunghoon springs up from his position, already scolding his elder for the mess he was making in the cupboards trying to investigate. Chaehyun is beaming at you and you feel the sincerity in her expression. Having seen you at the lowest points in your life, it's a happy departure to where you are now.

She can feel you start to get emotional and reminiscent, so Chaehyun simply pulls you back into a warm embrace. The happiness you feel is so new, just like your relationship with Sunghoon, but you would never trade it for the whole world.

The road to this moment was rocky and it felt never-ending at times. There were so many moments you felt so lost on your place in the world, but as Sunghoon returns to you and pulls you into his body, your heartbeats syncing together slowly, you feel that your way back home was worth it. 

a/n: thank you millions for reading. find my masterlist here & all likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are so, so appreciated <3

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[starkeyvhs]

behind the scenes

PAIRING: drew starkey x wellness girlie!reader

SUMMARY: an instagram blurb exploring drew and his relationship with his girlfriend who is a wellness girlie/digital creator.

FACE CLAIM: Apoorva Mukhija (the.rebel.kid on instagram)

WARNINGS: n/a

EDITH SPEAKS: I missed making instagram smaus so much omg! this one doesn't really have a plot, it's just a collection of posts and stories to help me get back in my groove :) and yes, I chose miss apoorva as my faceclaim cause she's a baddie 🤍 anyways, if you like this, please reblog and share your feedback! 🐛

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

liked by drewstarkey, madelyncline and 2,283,281 others

yourinstagram thank you paris for being so incredibly kind to us 🌟🗼

tagged: drewstarkey

drewfan34 OH THAT PIC OF HIM IM GOING FERAL

rafe_is_hot sooo pretty

drewstarkey I love u ❤️

-> yourinstagram I love u more 🤍

-> loveondrew :((

drewsify how cute omg

madisonbaileybabe stunner ✨✨✨

-> yourinstagram all you babe 🫶

liked by rafezcameron, maybankluvbot and 567,382 others

drewstarkeyupdates drew via ig stories!

tagged: drewstarkey, yourinstagram

zachmaclarensgirl he's literally the most perfect boyfriend ever

ynhive best couple

drewsrafe drew is the boyfriend standard men should strive to reach

-> aepscameron if he ain't doing skincare with you what is he doing then ⁉️⁉️⁉️

ynanddrew can they just adopt me already or smth smh

liked by brooke_starkey, carlaciagrant and 4,382,013 others

yourinstagram outer banks, paradise on earth 🌴☀️⛱️👒

lilalovesdrew our kook king yup yup

obxfan32 we can count on y/n to give our starving fandom some much needed bts content 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

madelyncline you can be the kook queen

-> yourinstagram that's you bb ❤️

ynisamazing she's soooo pretty 🥹

-> st4rkeys_ absolutely unreal

liked by rafeswifey, ynfan87 and 859,292 others

drewstarkeyupdates y/n via ig stories!

tagged: drewstarkey, yourinstagram, nick_v_cirillo

abbyheartsmaddie barryrafe for S3 confirmed????

-> drewcloudz the only couple I care about

user06 nick is hot

-> obxfan17 FR

aepscameron both together at the same time

ynloviee poor yn HELP 😭😭😭😭

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @drewstarkeys-world / @inthelibrarybtw / @mileyraes / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley

tagging some moots: @runningfrom2am / @b1mb0slvt / @nemesyaaa / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @jjsbank444 / @ladyinbl00d

[bluecookies02]

Viktor x Reader

tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl 🤌 hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.

[established relationship]

Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.

But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.

And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.

The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.

He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.

He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.

It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.

Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.

He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.

So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.

There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.

He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.

This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.

So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.

He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.

Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.

requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop by🩵

[heavensoutofsight]

types of kisses with billie eilish ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

synopsis: as your very loving girlfriend, billie likes to give you all kinds of kisses...

tags/warnings: established relationship, fluff, it's a little suggestive toward the end but nothing outwardly explicit!!

word count: 1,106

author's note: i am entering finals week soon so i haven't had much time or energy to write much 💔 but i am working on longer fics! i wanted to just throw this out here bc the idea came to me randomly in the middle of the night and i just had to make this so here we are 😭 i really hope you guys enjoy!

taglist: @brat-at-the-disco, @hannahluvsbillie, @karaeilishh, @rhearipley-69, @bilssturns, @bla1rxoxo, @billiesrighthand, @weluvwbb, @belleishot, @floweiralie, @natbelovasblog

(if you would like to be removed, dm me! <3)

Hurried kisses

These types of kisses are usually given on the days where Billie has a busy schedule; the days where you cling to her in bed like a koala, refusing to let her leave your side, craving the warmth of her body. Billie often made herself late to her whatever interview or photoshoot she had scheduled for that day, kissing every inch of your face while standing in front of the door, her brother blowing up her phone and begging her to hurry up – but Billie could never leave the house without completely smothering you in quick, chaste kisses. On the days where she was really in a hurry, quickly grabbing any necessary belongings on her way and not even bothering to eat a quick breakfast, she could only afford to give you one little peck on the lips, but even that was enough for you.

Surprise kisses

Billie gave you surprise kisses all day, every day. One of her favorite things to do is sneak up behind you while you're doing the dishes, folding laundry, or doing any other task that keeps you distracted, and wrapping her arms around your waist, her lips quickly making contact with your cheek. Every time, it would startle you, and Billie would always run off, leaving you a flustered mess, her contagious giggles filling the room. Sometimes, her surprise kisses would catch you off guard in other ways – there have been countless moments where you'd be in the studio with her, sharing your opinion on what she should add or change about a particular song, and in the midst of you speaking, she'd briefly interrupt you to kiss you. If you asked why she felt like doing that all of a sudden, she'd always say, “Because you're so cute. And I love you. Sorry.”

(And if the cute little grin on her face was any indication– you knew she wasn't sorry. And that she'd do it again. But you couldn't even be annoyed. You loved her too much).

Sneaky kisses

These kisses tend to be the most fun. These are the ones that Billie will give you in her dressing room as she's about to go on stage, the door closed but unlocked, the both of you feeling the thrill of possibly being caught. Sometimes, she'd have to be on stage in just a few minutes, but even then she'd never pass up the opportunity to have you to herself even if just for a small moment. Even during rehearsals, when you're off to the side watching Billie warm up her beautiful voice, she'd always plant a kiss on your lips in between songs every now and then, the quick pecks acting as motivation for her to get through the rest of the practice. She also loved sneaking in kisses at the afterparties for award shows. As much as Billie loved the loud music and crowded rooms, sometimes she just needed to pull you outside or to the bathroom just to kiss you breathless, smudging whatever lipstick you chose to wear that night in the process. She wasn't afraid to show you this affection in front of others, either. Paparazzi was everywhere, but that didn't stop her from sharing a kiss with you under the strobe lights.

Long-distance kisses

Whenever Billie was away, she'd still find a way to smooch you. You spent many nights alone in her house (not completely alone with Shark keeping you company), facetiming Billie while she was in some other city miles and miles away, alone in her hotel room. Even if it was well past midnight, she'd never forget to call you and ask you how you've been doing, listening attentively to how your day went and everything you did. She'd always smile at you fondly while you were speaking, staring at you like you hung the moon and the stars. Often, the two of you fell asleep on the call; but on the nights where you actually remembered to end the call, Billie would always send you flying kisses, making the mwah sound extra dramatic and loud, making you chuckle. As cheesy as it was, you always pretended to catch them, sending her kisses back.

Long-distance kisses also came in the form of photos. If you were at work, bored out of your mind, you would conveniently receive a text message from Billie. Upon opening it, sometimes you'd be greeted with a slightly blurry photo of Billie making a kissy face to the camera, with an accompanying message saying something along the lines of: I miss you. Love you so much. Can't wait to come back home so I can kiss you for real ♡

Those messages always got you through even the busiest of work days.

Passionate kisses

These kisses were always reserved for when the both of you were in the privacy of Billie's home. These were the kisses that she'd give you if she was away on a tour for a while and you couldn't come with– perhaps because your schedule didn't align with hers or because you had some family emergency. When she'd come home, you were quick to run into her open arms, and Billie wasted no time in showing you how much she missed you through one long, slow, open-mouthed kiss, one that made strong feelings of desire pool within you and your breathing uneven. During these kisses, Billie's hands would never stay in one place, caressing every dip and curve of your body, gripping you tightly in certain places, and the possessiveness of her touch always made you swoon.

Sharing a passionate kiss with Billie was also a common occurrence after date nights, when the both of you had the time for those and it had been a while since you two spent quality time together. There had been many moments where you'd be sitting across from Billie at some high-end restaurant, and she'd be sitting across from you, eyeing you hungrily like a wolf stalking its prey. You loved wearing specific clothing items that would drive Billie crazy, like a distracting, low-cut top. She'd keep it together for the remainder of the date, of course, but the second the two of you got home, she was pouncing on you, kissing you with so much need and want that it was enough to make your knees weak. It was always straight to the bedroom those nights, where Billie's lips would trail further and further down, leaving no inch of skin unkissed.

In short, being in a relationship with Billie meant more kisses than you could handle. But you were certainly not complaining about that.

[n0vazsq]

Pas de Deux | KR7 x Reader

pairing . . . young!kimi raikkonen x ballerina!reader

summary . . . When Kimi falls in love with a ballerina, he's invited into a dance of two (or, a pas de deux)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . minimal swearing! story is set in 2024 with the current 2024 grid but kimi pics are from the 2000s!! there wont be a lot of f1 comments so you can feel free to imagine whatever team kimi is in! kimi is like in his early 20s so the reader is 20-24! lets just pretend he was born sometime between 1999 and 2003

faceclaim . . . random ballerinas from pin!

alexavia yaps . . . I LOVE PAS DE DEUX ITS MY FAV CLQSSIC SONG AHHHHHH anyway i hope you guys like thsi!!!!!! i legit dk anything about ballet so IM SO SORRY IF ANYTHING IS WRONG!!

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

ballerinayn

liked by yourbsf, maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 741k others

ballerinayn loved dancing in monte carlo to my favourite song today! well done to all the other ballerinas and see you in a few weeks! thanks to my amazing friend maxverstappen1 for attending!

click to view all comments

username MOTHER IS BACK!!!!!

username i can't wait to see her performance next week my friend got me tickets omg

username WHAT?? THATS SO LUCKY OMGG

username MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER

username why tf does she have half the f1 grid in her likes??

username shes friend with max, lando, charles, alex and pretty much every driver that lives in monaco

username doesnt kimi live in switzerland??

username yeah idk why hes in the likes

maxverstappen1 great performance y/n! you did so well!

ballerinayn tysm maxie!!

username SHES BACKKKK

username gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous omg

username we're so back

username SHES MY IDOL I GOT INTO BALLET BC OF HER

username my wife guys back off

kimiraikkonen Beautiful.

username YALLL KIMI RAIKKONENS COMMENT

username KIMIS COMMENT???

balletdemontecarlo

liked by ballerinayn, yourbsf, ballerina1 and 1.3M others

balletdemontecarlo could you spot the famous ballerinayn in today's pas de deux? 👀

click to view all comments

ballerinayn thank you for letting me perform on this amazing stage! such a great honour!

balletdemontecarlo it was our pleasure to see you perform!

yourbsf that's my best friend right there guys 🥹

ballerinayn i saw you in the crowd and almost broke character from happiness ❤

ballerina1 our swan queen 🦢

ballerinayn you did amazing out there!!

username who else cried when y/n was spun around by that guy??

username this was so emotional you guys

username SO PROUD OF MOTHERR

maxverstappen1 good job y/n!

ballerinayn aww thank you max <33

kimiraikkonen Loved the show. Come to watch a grand prix?

ballerinayn omg kimi!! im such a big fan 🥹🥹 so glad you loved the show!! and ofc ill come to a gp ❤ just contact my team with the details!

kimiraikkonen VIP tickets will be sent shortly after.

username KIMI?? I WAS NOT AWARE OF THIS RIZZ

username HELP NOT KIMI ASKING Y/N OUT IN THE COMMENT SECTION??

username i died shes so pretty

username no bc i fell to my knees watching this at home

username how to see mother y/n perform for free??

username try not to simp for y/n challenge: impossible

ballerinayn

liked by kimiraikkonen, yourbsf, f1wags and 891k others

ballerinayn thank you kimi for inviting me to the monaco grand prix!! really enjoyed it <3 and congrats on the podium! tagged: kimiraikkonen

click to view all comments

kimiraikkonen Glad you enjoyed!

ballerinayn <3

username KIMI SHOWING EMOTIONS?? THE EXCLAMATION MAKR??? THE HEART?? IM DEAD

username hear me out.... y/n x kimi

username HEARD

charlesleclerc so no congrats for me on the win?

ballerinayn SORRY CHARLIE I FORGOT

charlesleclerc betryal of the century right here

username the camera panning over to y/n every time kimi overtook im crying

username guys they have so much chemistry they must be a couple

username WHYYY HIM

username have you seen kimi???

username have you SEEN Y/N????

username MY WIFE GONE TO A MAN??

username its over for us </3

username yall delusional asl they legit could js be friends

username jS bE fRiEnDs

username f1 really ships them

username i NEED them to confirm or hard launch or ill kms

username FRRR LIKE THEY BETTER DO IT BEFORE I KILL MYSELF

kimiraikkonen

liked by ballerinayn, yourbsf, charlesleclerc and 2.3M others

kimiraikkonen Monaco.

click to view all comments

username these pics are WAYYY too aesthetic for kimi to have taken them

username i know this style of photography.....i see you ballerinayn

username THE FLOWERS??? WHOS THE PERSON>????

username THE PICS SCREAM Y/N YALL ARE NOT SLICKKKKKK

username idk who this guy is i just came because of mother y/n

username we need the gossip pages to track them down

f1waggossip on it 🫡

username THE WAY I SAW HIM WITH A GIRL WHILE WALKING WiTH MY MOM BUT I COULDNT SEE HER FACE ONLY THE BACK OF HER HEAD </3 BUT KIMI LOOKED SO HAPPY HE WAS SMILING AND YAPPING

username guys guys guys GUYSSSSSS charles posted a story and in the bg were kimi and y/n like talking and laughing and shi and he deleted like after 3 mins

username theyre friends??

username i hate this new couple

username DONT TORTURE JUST HARD LAUNCH

yourbsf 👀

username WHAT ARE YOU DOING HEREEEEE

username not yourbsf exposing their asses LMFAOOOOO

username man i love y/ns bsf

username "thank you yourbsf" we say in unison

username bro yall are so annoying like a girl cant even comment on her bsfs boyfriends post??

username didnt y/n and kimi kiss after his podium or did i forget to take my pills

username its the latter but i wish it was the former

ballerinayn

liked by yourbsf, maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 822k others

ballerinayn rainy days around monaco with him>>>>>

click to view all comments

username WHOMST

username y/n pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee tell us who it is

username THE SWANS?? THE ARCHITECTURE?? THE STAR???

username reason of death: bitch ass y/n l/n and her sneaky ahh soft launches

username this is so her coded i cant

maxverstappen1 where was my invite?? lost in the mail??

ballerinayn maxie waxie axie you told me specifically "y/n if you ever invite to third wheel ill chop your arms off and use them as a table stand" so i think you didnt want to come <3

maxverstappen1 i-thats on me

ballerinayn it is it is

username oh so shes rich RICH 🤑🤑🤑 mommy y/n i need a sugar mommy 🥺

ballerinayn sorry that position is taken by pretty boy xx

username Y/N 😡

yourbsf 👀👀👀

ballerinayn what are you eye fucking

yourbsf you

yourbsf and charles

charlesleclerc ?????

username mother y/n feed us some soft launch crumbs

username QUEEN MOTHER MS SWAN Y/N COOKED THIS POST UP ONG ONG 🙏🔥

username if kimi posts like a similar typa thing theyre together

username im a f1 fan who came for the dating rumors but i mightve actually fell in love with y/n like imma full on start watching ballet for her

f1wagsss_

liked by waggossip, kimifanpage1, ynnlove82 and 391k others

f1wagsss_ f1 driver kimi raikkonen and ballerina y/n l/n reportedly seen together yesterday. do you think it really is them or is this from a fake source?

click to view all comments

username REAL REAL REAL REAL I WANT IT TO BE REAL PLS BE REAL I BEG FOR IT TO BE REAL

username ain't no way

username this must be photoshopped bc wtf how do they even know each other??

username so nice of you to intrude into people's private love lives!!

username i ❤ you for saying this

username MY GOATS ARE TOGETHER OH MY GOD

username its legit a dream come true if it is actually real

username they werent even trying to hide it oml

username WHEN WILL THEY CONFIRM

username STOP playing with usss

username i don't need any more pics i know what's going on

username i'm so delusional to think that this is real <3

(guys click on the second tweet bc its long so it doesnt show)

wags.international

liked by waggossip, f1wagsss_, teaa.f1 and 791k others

wags.international its official! f1 driver kimi raikkonen and ballerina y/n l/n were spotted on their date night in spain! will they deny or confirm their relationship? only time will tell....

click to view all comments

username why is the caption so mysterious 💀

username "confirm or deny" LMFAOOO WHAT IS IT A PASS TO ENTER A COUNTRY??

username yall hating on this gossip page harder than the others whyy 💀💀

username the caption 💀💀 and the fact that they used to hate on y/n when there were some rumors that she was dating max

username OMG OMG OMG MY PARENTS

username KIMIYN MY NO.1 SHIPPP AHHHHHH

username mY GATS

username PIERRE AND YOUR/BSF/NAME IN THE LIKES???? HELP ME

username the switch up is INSANEEE

username can you explain why they used to hate on y/n?

username they called her some words like $lut and wh0re and they also called her a fame and gold digger even though shes literally famous and already rich. they also posted some weird pics of her from when she was younger and basically they got a lot of hate for it.

username so the hate is deserved?

username VERY deserved

username i see a repeat of 2022 i am going to rage so hard that i become a lawyer and sue them

username the history with gossip page is INSANEEEE

kimiraikkonen

liked by ballerinayn, yourbsf, maxverstappen1 and 3.4M others

kimiraikkonen The girlfriend. Rakastan sinua yli kaiken, kulta ❤ (I love you more than anything, darling) tagged: ballerinayn

click to view all comments

username LMFAOOOO THE CAPTION IS SO KIMI CODED

username SOFT KIMI SOFT KIMI SOFT KIMI I AM SHAKING

ballerinayn love you too <33 mwah mwah

kimiraikkonen 🥰

maxverstappen only y/n can do that to the iceman

ballerinayn what can i say i am a woman of many abilities

maxverstappen1 ew thats disguisting i didnt need to know that

charlesleclerc she meant NORMAL abilities you dirty thinking slug

ballerinayn lestappen forever this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1 Y/N?!?!??!?! I SAW THAT

ballerinayn mb?

yourbsf take care of my best friend yeah?

kimiraikkonen I'd rather die than not do so.

ballerinayn IM CRYING I LOVE YOU BOTH SO SO SO MUCH

kimiraikkonen Honey please don't cry.

ballerinayn KIMI OMGGG SHHSHSHSHSHHS

username y/n having a meltdown over kimi like girl me too

username this is the best love story in the history of love stories

username im calling it theyre romeo and juliet

yourbsf

liked by ballerinayn, kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 1.7k others

yourbsf my best friend and her love sick boyfriendtagged: ballerinayn, kimiraikkonen

click to view all comments

yourfriend1 HELP not y/n getting a professienal pic and kimi's being whatever

yourbsf y/n would pose for me for hours and kimi literally ignores me until y/n tells him to notice me. he also rarely smiles around me i had to capture the moment quickly

yourfriend1 explains the shaky picture

username we need more kimiyn content from your/bsf/name

username this is so goals what

ballerinayn wow i look so good and kimi looks so pretty omg

yourbsf ofc you do youre not mother y/n for no reason

maxverstappen1 can you send that pic of kimi?

kimiraikkonen Max.

maxverstappen1 nevermind

maxverstappen1 WHY DOESNT yourbsf GET A DEATH GLARE AND I DO??

ballerinayn sorry max i love her and kimi loves who i love xoxo

maxverstappen1 are you saying you dont love me?

ballerinayn oops sorry?

maxverstappen1 you better be sorry

yourbsf now now kids settle down

username chaos is literally yourbsf's comment section

username parasocial relationship

ballerinayn

liked by yourbsf, kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 581k others

yourbsf words could never describe how much I love you. you light up my life in a way nothing else can. every moment with you feels like home, mon ange. forever wouldn’t be enough to express what you mean to me, pretty boy. ❤️ tagged: kimiraikkonen

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen1 love you guys even tho i hate third wheeling

ballerinayn thanks maxie <3

charlesleclerc you two are very cute

ballerinayn so are you and alex!!

yourbsf as much as i hated you being taken away from me by a guy, kimi was the right one. i approve of him <3

ballerinayn ilysm <333

ballerina1 if he can do ballet invite for a pas de deux 👀

ballerinayn oh trust me i already taught him everything

kimiraikkonen And nothing ever will ever desrcibe by love for you

ballerinayn i love you so much

kimiraikkonen I love you more. Even more than my drink

ballerinayn <33

kimiraikkonen You're the love of my life, never forget that.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

thank youuuu @vancruejovi !!!

song listening to right now:

well. i don't actually have music playing right now. i have venus shine your light by russ ballard paused part way through since earlier or yesterday or something.

wait let me put my playlist on shuffle and see what comes up. but. let me just listen to the rest of venus shine your light first. omg i almost forgot to click on shuffle before it ended. okay let's see

LOVE WORKS IN STRANGE WAYS by russ ballard, yesss it shuffled a song from my favorite album ever

okay, current favorite song:

HOW. AM I. SUPPOSED TO EVER. IN A MILLION YEARS. CHOOSE A SINGLE FAVORITE SONG.

help. okay wait let me look

okay well ONE of my favorite songs that i feel like i can't get enough of isssss CRAZY WORLD by russ ballard(doing everything in my power to hold back from listing off more songs)

annnnd a song of my choice:

well the last one was kind of a song of my choice too because i was choosing between favorites. but okay yes, i'll pick another one.

i already have two from the same album, i might as well keep going with that.

JUST LIKE ME by russ ballard

i'll keep talking forever about how much i love that he puts lyrics from this song into god gave rock and roll to you when he does it live now

i tag EVERYONE

MUSIC LOVERS ASSEMBLE!!

i feel like starting a tag chain so i hope this works out :)

reblog this with 3 songs:

the song your listening to right now (or last one you listened to)

your current favourite song

a song of your choice

______________________________________________________________

mine:

its now or never - elvis presley/love in the dark - adele

trastevere - måneskin

nevermore - queen

______________________________________________________________

tagggzzzz: (np ofc) @heartstopper-lover123 @s0lit4ir3 @ali-da-demon @vicwritesfic @skeelly @charliethinks @tori-my-love @chronic-skeptic @toulouseradiosilence @stewpid-soup @nine-frogs-in-a-trenchcoat @pessimistic-gh0st @theshyqueergirl @crowleybrekkers @a-bowl-of-soop @frogfairy444 @robinheaney12 @fairyghostgirlgaming @thatsawesomedontyouthink @venusplanetoflove2 @thelovelyvie @abookishshade @spir4nts-lun4r @i-have-no-idea-111 @kit-the-queer @a-wondering-thought @scatteredraysofhope @coco6420 @softlyunbreakable @givennnnnn @far-beyond-saving @darling-im-wonderstruck @heartstoppernerdsstuff @nonbinary-idiot-obviously @rebelrobinrules1984 @daydream-of-a-wallflower @leonine-elizer @angel-devil-star and anyone else who wants to join!!

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 2.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: jungkook is kind of an annoying jerk in the beginning, but we still love him. as of now, i have no warnings, but i will mention them when necessary as the series goes on.

A/N: hello, welcome to my very first series. i've been reading fics for as long as i can remember and i've always wanted to start a blog of my own. please read through this and let me know if this story is worth continuing <3

my blog is still "work in progress" and i have many ideas and plans that i wanna give life to, so please stay tuned. your opinions, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome.

thank you.

part 1: throttle and stem

The quiet hum of the early morning filled your flower shop as you stood by your workbench, your hands deftly arranging a vibrant bouquet of stargazer lilies, queen of the night blossoms, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. As you tied off the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, glancing at the screen.

"8:09 am."

You sighed to yourself, shaking off the early morning grogginess that still clung to your mind. The air around you was sweet with the mingling fragrances of the flowers, an invisible balm for the weariness you hadn’t quite shaken.

The shop was your sanctuary. Its walls were adorned with climbing vines that had been lovingly nurtured over the years, and its shelves were lined with terracotta pots of miniature bonsais, fiddle-leaf figs, and succulent terrariums. It wasn’t just a workspace… it was your rhythm, your peace. Here, surrounded by blooms and greenery, the world felt like it moved just a little slower.

You turned towards the bay window, where golden sunlight poured in, illuminating an assortment of hydrangeas and snapdragons on display. It was the kind of morning you cherished… peaceful, predictable, and entirely yours to savor.

Shifting closer to the window, your gaze naturally drifted to the storefront beside yours. The faded "For Rent" sign, hanging crookedly in the glass, caught your eye like always. Ever since Mrs. Lee shut down her cozy little bakery and moved away with her husband, the space had remained lifeless, the once-welcoming aroma of fresh pastries replaced by silence and dust.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you remembered the way the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls used to drift into your shop every morning. Now, the vacant building had become an eyesore you had grown used to ignoring… a dull, empty reminder of what had once been.

Turning away from the window, you wandered through your shop, watering the orchids in their clay pots and adjusting the arrangement of lavender sprigs by the counter. You opened sharp at 9, but these quiet moments before customers arrived were your favorite. It was a time to bask in the stillness, to let the beauty of your flowers fill every corner of your mind.

You settled back at your workbench, pulling another bundle of roses and eucalyptus stems from the cooler. Your hands moved automatically as your thoughts wandered, appreciating the rare silence that surrounded you. Most of the shops on your street wouldn’t open for another hour, leaving the block in a peaceful lull.

The quiet wasn’t just comforting, it was necessary. It was the space where you could breathe, think, and just be.

And just when you were basking in the silence you oh so appreciated, your train of thoughts are harshly interrupted by a sharp growl that tore through the air, so ridiculously loud that it startled you into dropping the shears you were grasping in your hand. The noise grew louder, rising and falling with an almost deafening rhythm. Engines revved outside, followed by the sharp, repetitive beeping of trucks reversing.

Frowning, you stepped towards the window, peeking out from behind a display of yellow roses. Two enormous moving trucks had pulled up in front of the vacant building, their engines rumbling as a group of workers began hauling furniture and equipment onto the sidewalk.

Your chest tightened as you took in the scene: huge wooden crates, motorcycle frames, and oversized toolboxes haphazardly scattered across the pavement.

The stillness you were treasuring just a minute ago was shattered in less than a second by the disgusting sound of chaos arriving at your doorstep.

Still confused, your eyes suddenly fall on the huge stack of oversized toolboxes placed on the sidewalk, partially blocking the entrance to your shop. You scoffed, your mind unable to wrap itself around this bizarre situation.

Before you could fully process what exactly was happening, your feet carried you towards the front door of your shop and you stepped outside, breathing heavily. “Hey!” you called out, trying to dodge around a burly man carrying a huge box labeled FRAGILE. “What’s going on here?” you question, still looking around, trying to take in the state of your surroundings.

The closest person to you wasn’t a mover or a worker. You could easily conclude that just by the way he was leaning lazily against one of the trucks, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion. A thick leather jacket, adorned with intricate patches and scratches that told untold stories rested on his left shoulder.

Tattoos crawled up his toned forearms, disappearing under the ripped sleeves of his black t-shirt. A loose silver chain around his neck glinted as he shifted his weight, and when he glanced up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

"What's going on here?" you ask again, this time trying to sound as civil as possible. Your fists are balled and you regulate your breathing as you observe the man in front of you. “Moving in.” he simply answers, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What’s it look like to you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his audacity. You're generally a calm person, that is, until someone provokes you in the weirdest ways. “It looks like you’re turning the sidewalk into an obstacle course.” you snapped, unable to remain civil like you had previously planned. “My customers won’t be able to get into my shop!” you added.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that instantly made you think, this was someone you would never get along with. “What customers?” He chuckles, glancing theatrically up and down the empty street before meeting your gaze again.

Your blood boiled as you heard him mock you. “Excuse me?” He stepped closer, the faint scent of leather and motor oil lingering in the air between you. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t get your roses in a twist.” he says, eyeing a bouquet he was able to spot through the window of your store.

You bristled. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart. Second, those are lilies, NOT roses.” You jabbed a finger towards the bouquet in the window. “And third, I don’t need your promises. I need you to move your chaos somewhere else and not disturb my business!”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “You really care about those flowers, huh?” he asks. You can easily tell he thinks nothing of your business. “Of course, I do! Unlike some people, I actually respect my work and the space around me.” you argue.

The man rolls his eyes, and that only drives you more mad. His nonchalance and his lack of empathy itches your brain the wrong way. “Whatever.” he casually shrugs, turning away as he hears one of the men call out to him. “Jeon, where do you want the bike stand?”

Jeon? You realize that's probably his surname. “Right here.” he replies, pointing towards the storefront. Without sparing you another glance, he strode over, his gait relaxed and confident, as if he hadn’t just ruined your morning.

You stood there, fists clenched, watching as the chaos unfolded further. The reality hit you hard—the quiet, vacant space beside your shop was no longer empty. It was now home to this infuriating, leather-clad biker who had just walked into your life like a hurricane. And somehow, you knew, your peaceful little flower shop would never be the same.

//

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of irritation. Every time you tried to return to your flowers and reclaim the peace you once cherished, another burst of loud noise would jolt you out of focus. The metallic clang of tools, the rumble of engines being tested, and the shouts of movers unloading endless boxes were relentless. Even the cheerful chime of your shop door opening, signaling the arrival of your first customer, couldn’t lift your mood entirely.

“Busy morning out there, huh?” Mrs. Park, one of your long-time regulars, quipped as she admired a bouquet of tulips on display. You forced a smile, standing up from your workbench. “You could say that.” you answered, looking back at the window that gave you a view of the happenings next door

She chuckled, picking up a small pot of baby succulents. “Looks like someone’s finally opening a business there. Hopefully, it’s something good and the owner is nice. I miss Mrs. Lee’s bakery, though. Her strawberry tarts were divine.” she says, walking towards the counter with the pot she had just picked out.

You bit back a sarcastic retort about how this newcomer was something way from from “nice” and nodded instead. “I miss her too. But yeah, we'll just have to wait and see what the new business is going to be about.” you sigh.

//

By the time the clock struck noon, the chaos outside had died down enough for you to risk stepping out again. Boxes had been cleared from the sidewalk, though a few crates still lingered near the entrance of your shop, their presence a glaring reminder of the morning’s disruption.

You spotted him immediately—Jeon. He was crouched next to a sleek black motorcycle, his hands busy adjusting something near the engine. A few workers milled around, chatting, but this man seemed entirely absorbed in his work.

You purse your lips and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a better view of the building. The sign "Throttle and Torque" hung up high, right beside yours that read "Garden's Grace."

You look back down at the man, who still seemed so immersed in whatever the heck he was doing. Against your better judgment, you marched over, fueled by lingering frustration. “Excuse me.” you say, waiting for him to respond. He didn’t look up. You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot impatiently. “Excuse me!” you snap.

This time, he glanced up, wiping his hands on a rag before standing to his full height. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly confident, his dark eyes glinting which barely concealed any sort amusement. “What?” he asked, completely unbothered. You gestured towards the lingering crates. “Your stuff is still blocking part of my entrance.” you reply, trying your level best to keep your voice at a respectable volume.

He glanced at the crates, then back at you. “Looks fine to me.” he shrugs. “It’s not fine. It’s in the way.” you argue, fighting the urge to just run and kick the crates away from your entrance. His lips curved into that maddening smirk again. “You’re really particular about your space, huh?”

“Unlike some people…” you pause, taking a deep breath “I respect boundaries.” you state. He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. “Alright, alright. I’ll move them. Don’t blow a gasket, sweetheart.” he says causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname but you bite your tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper again.

As he turned to call out to one of the workers, you noticed something—a small, intricately designed patch sewn onto the back of his leather jacket that he was wearing. It depicted a phoenix rising from flames, the design bold and vibrant against the black leather.

Shaking yourself out of the observation you had just made, you look around and finally question him. "What exactly is your business?"

He doesn't answer, still busy with the worker as he guides him on where to place the crates. But as you stood there by yourself, you feel the realization dawning on you as you took in the scattered parts and tools. "Is this a motorcycle shop?" you ask again. He glanced over his shoulder, finally nodding. “Custom bikes. Repairs. The works.” he answers, his tone still the same, low and unbothered.

Of course. The universe had gifted you a neighbor who was the exact opposite of everything your flower shop represented—loud, chaotic, and disruptive. “Just great.” you muttered under your breath, feeling yourself get a headache as you imagine the wild things that you will have to go through with a store like this right beside yours.

“Something to say?” he teases, as he looks at you, finally taking in your appearance. His eyes roamed over you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the effortless beauty you carried. There was something captivating about the way your long, dark hair framed your face, the sunlight catching in the waves and adding a soft halo around you. The earthy tones of your apron only highlighted the warm glow of your skin, and the faint blush on your cheeks gave you an endearing, almost ethereal charm.

You don't say anything and just stand there, trying your best to stay calm. "I'm Jungkook, by the way." you hear him say. You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to introduce yourself to him, but you think that might be a little immature. "Y/n." you simply say, avoiding his eyes.

"Didn’t realize such a pretty flower came with so many thorns." he comments, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms, observing the way you tried so hard not to throw hands. You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Didn’t realize bikers had this much trouble respecting other people’s businesses.” you retorted, matching his tone.

Jungkook chuckled, clearly unfazed. He leaned against the wall beside him, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge. “Well, sweetheart, I guess we’re stuck with each other now. Might as well get used to it.” he says, almost like he's challenging you.

You huffed at that stupid nickname again, your fingers tightening around the hem of your apron. “I would REALLY appreciate if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." you pause, slightly stepping forward. "And for the record, being neighbors doesn’t mean I have to put up with your... chaos. My shop values tranquility, something your—” you pause again to gesture towards the motorcycles and tools scattered around, “whole vibe seems to be allergic to.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to consider your words, though the teasing smirk never leaves his features. “Tranquility, huh?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “I can see why you’d like things quiet in there.” His eyes flicked toward your shop window, where the vibrant display of flowers created a stark contrast to the metal and oil-laden aesthetic of his business.

You cross your arms, as you firmly stand your ground. “Exactly. Garden’s Grace is a place where people come to find peace and beauty. Something your Throttle and Torque doesn’t exactly scream.”

He snorted, looking genuinely amused for the first time. “Peace and beauty. Cute. I’m more about the adrenaline and grit side of life. Opposites, huh?” You frowned, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Maybe opposites, but that doesn’t mean you have to make my life miserable.” you said, glancing pointedly at the workers still unloading equipment nearby.

“Alright, alright.” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my guys clear out your entrance. We wouldn’t want to scare off all those peace-seekers now, would we?” he says, in a tone that irks something ugly inside of you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to come up with something but you know it would be of no use to argue with someone like him. “Thank you.” you breathe out curtly, turning on your heel to head back to your shop, not wanting to deal with him anymore because you clearly had a business to get back to.

“By the way…” he suddenly calls out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder with a brow raised. “Those flowers in your display…” he said, jerking his chin towards the window. “Whatever they're called... they’re pretty. You’ve got an eye for detail and beauty.” he admits.

The unexpected compliment threw you off guard, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a snappy comeback. Instead, you muttered a soft, “Thanks.” before disappearing into the safety of your shop.

Inside, your heart thudded a little harder than you cared to admit. You shook your head, pushing the moment aside. “Nope, not falling for that.” you mumble to yourself, bringing your focus back on the vibrant bouquet in your hands.

From the corner of your eye, you glanced out the window one last time. Jungkook had gone back to his motorcycle, but there was a faint smile on his face now, one that didn’t carry the same teasing edge as before.

You sighed and shook your head, determined to forget the way it made your stomach flutter. "It’s just day one..." you reminded yourself. "I can survive this." you affirm.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a storm neither of you saw coming.

part 2 ->

series masterlist

[corpsentry]

love poem (typical)

[sentientcave]

Masquerade

You've come to this masquerade ball to finally dispatch the man you've wanted dead for nearly ten years, but he's always ruining your plans, one way or another.

Contains: 2nd POV OC (sorry about all the blushing), werewolf MMC (sadly he doesn't do any fun werewolfy things he's just a guy with sharp teeth here), vague fantasy setting, murder attempts/reminiscence of murder attempts, a long and storied history only alluded to, what do you do when your bitter enemy turns out to be a silly little guy who just wants you to love him?, oral sex (w receiving), P in V sex, this spawned a whole ass novel and it's so so different but this lowkey holds up.

See end for Notes

~10k words - NSFW - 18+ MDNI

“My, don’t you look exquisite,” a voice purrs in your ear.

You freeze in place, glad that the mask hides the colour that springs to your cheeks. You feel like a naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar, an unwelcome guest at his masquerade. You thought you could escape notice, slip through the crowd of finely dressed nobles and plunge your knife into his chest at last. But he had managed to find you first. You weren’t ready. You hadn’t been to the garden to pick up your hidden cache of weapons, you had nothing but your silver hair-stick to dispatch him with.

His heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Don’t muss up your pretty hairstyle just yet, darling,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rasping like sandpaper. It’s as if he can read your thoughts. Or perhaps, after all these years, you’re simply predictable. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

You flinch at the cold press of his mask against your bare shoulder. You shouldn’t have disguised yourself as a guest. You feel defenceless, wrapped in silk and sheer chiffon, a neat little morsel delivered straight into the wolf’s jaws. He could shift in a second and shred you into little pieces, like he had threatened to do so many times before. You try to still your frightened, thumping heart, and pull away, turning to face him at last. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, because it’s worth a try at least, but he’s laughing before you can even finish, the smiling mouth of his gold wolf mask mocking you. His yellow eyes glitter from it’s depths, watching you.

“Oh darling, I would recognize you anywhere. I hoped you would be unable to resist my invitation.”

“Your invitation?”

“Yes, dearest. All of this was for you. I knew you could not resist the chance to get so close to me again.”

“To kill you,” you remind him hoarsely.

He chuckles and takes your hand. “Perhaps. For now, a dance, I should think. You haven’t danced all night.”

You dig in your heels, trying to resist his insistent pull, but he simply wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I don’t dance,” you tell him sharply. “Let go of me.”

“You’re a liar,” he replies, spinning you into place, one hand on your lower back, pinning you against his chest, and the other still clasped around your wrist, sliding up to engulf your hand. He simply tugs you along with him as he moves, sweeping you along to the music, holding you so unbearably close. He could lift you off your feet with ease, if he chose to, and you don’t have enough power to resist. His scent clouds your mind, cedar soap and clean, animal musk, one of many hints of the wolf that dog him even in his human shape. “You forget, I knew you in your past life. Or have you forgotten that I once sat in your father’s halls? I have seen you dance.”

It was so long ago now, another life, before he was only the wolf to you, and before you were the thorn in his paw, that you almost had forgotten. You had hardly given him a second thought at first, he was just another visiting knight, here one day and gone the next, handsome, but beyond the concerns of the girl you once were. “You failed to make an impression,” you tell him sharply, although it’s not true. You do remember his yellow eyes watching you one night, though he never asked you to to dance. He never spoke to you at all.

Not until after. He saved you, of course, from the bloodbath, because he had claimed you. He hadn’t so much as said a word to you before he burst into your bedchamber, monstrous jaws dripping with your fathers blood, yellow eyes wild. You still remembered beating him back with the fire-place’s iron poker, and jamming the tip into his chest before you ran for your life.

“I knew you were mine from the first,” he continues. He seems frighteningly aware of your thoughts, as if his own version of the memory is playing out behind his own eyes. “My lioness, avenging her wicked father with a poker. I still bear your mark, just above my heart.” He presses your entwined hands to his chest for a moment. “I’m certain you remember that, at least.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The only unfortunate part,” he says patiently. “Is that I did not take you as my mate that night.”

His words lance through you like lightning, burning everything in their path. Your knees nearly buckle, and if he were not holding you so securely, you would sink to the floor in a useless puddle of silk. How dare he make you weak, after everything he’s done to you? But anger gives you strength, reinforces your spine with steel, and you wrench away, glaring at him, wishing you could set him ablaze with your eyes.

The music falters. You look up, at the musicians gallery, then around the room. Everyone watches, pretending not to, jewelled masks concealing furtive eyes and whispered words. Your own mask feels insufficient, lightweight and flimsy under the wolf’s eyes when your eyes return to him. He takes your arm, his grip tight, but not bruising, and guides you out of the ballroom, into the cold night air. The dark gardens are just a little too far for you to jump down from the wide stone balcony, and there are no stairs leading down. If you jump, you’d probably break your leg, and then you’d be helpless.

“What do you think of our home?” he asks. “Have you snooped around yet, my darling? Planned all your exits and hidden away your weapons and armour? I made sure you’d have plenty of opportunity. I know how you love to prepare.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“I have been busy with other preparations,” he says mildly. “But I thought I smelled something of you in the corridor by the library.”

You flinch, only confirming that you had in fact been there, hiding your leather armour inside a large vase. “Preparations for what?”

“Your homecoming. The king has made it clear that it’s time to reign you in, or he will have someone else deal with you.” He pulls the mask off at last, setting the golden wolf on the balcony. Sweat glimmers at his temples, catching light from the ballroom behind them. He offers you a wry smile, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”

“Lenient?” you ask, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to kill you.”

“Those who attempt such things do not usually live long,” he reminds you. “I don’t often show mercy. I’ve allowed you to live free, in the hopes that you would come to me willingly, in time. Now it seems I can no longer afford to continue our little game. You will stay with me, or someone else will be sent to arrest or kill you.”

You press your palms into the smooth railing, wishing desperately that you could absorb the cool, dependable steadiness of stone through your skin. You look at him for a moment while he stares out over the dark gardens, his yellow eyes tracking movement you can’t see.

He’s always dressed in black, like a man in mourning, his black curls cropped short around his slightly pointed ears, beard neatly trimmed. He wears little jewellery for a man of his station, just the yellow-gold signet ring with it’s heavy, dark blue sapphire on his finger, and the gleam of jet buttons down the front of his tunic. You were more used to seeing him in his armour. The heavy black plate suits his brutality better than black-embroidered silk.

Silk offers no protection, no shield over his wicked black heart.

You pull the hairpin from your own neatly arranged curls and move fast, striking at his chest, but he catches your hand easily, his amber eyes meeting your fury with amusement. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. “Stubborn creature.”

He plucks the pin from your hand and spins you around, pushing you into the railing with the oppressive weight of his presence. Your protests are weak and hardly noticed, but you fall silent when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the back of your neck. He gathers your hair up and pins it back in place, not as neatly as you had done earlier, but sufficiently.

“What are you doing?” you ask numbly.

He turns you around, still standing far too close. You stare forward, at the point where his skin meets the collar of his tunic, your eyes glued to his pulse. You wish for teeth as sharp as his own, so you could tear out his throat. His fingers curl under your chin, nudging your face up, forcing you to look him in the eye again. “Just returning your pin,” he says, smirking. “Why do you seem so flustered, darling?”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” you ask. Your hand lifts up to knock his away, but you touch him instead, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles. You know he’s capable of crushing you with hardly a thought. You’ve spent the last ten years learning all you could about him, hunting him down again and again and again with a single-minded determination. He likely could have killed you a thousand times over, if you’d been just a little less careful, or he a little less eager to capture you instead. He should have killed you. You don’t know how to stop anymore, you don’t know how to let go of the terrible anger that burns you up every time you think of him. You want him to suffer, to lose everything, to hurt the way he hurt you. “I’ll never stop.”

There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and it pings against your heart uncomfortably. “I never could,” he says, all traces of his smirking, superior air gone. His thumb strokes along your jaw. “I begged the king for your life. Your father may have been a traitor, but you were an innocent girl, and I do not enjoy killing innocents.”

“I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No, I suppose not. But you’ve committed no crimes that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Your voice is hardly more than a hoarse whisper. You want to shout, but his hand on your skin seems to leech all the power out of you.

“You have it regardless,” he whispers back, low and intimate as a lover. He touches his forehead to your mask, his eyes boring into yours, twin suns scorching everything in their path. “And someday I will earn yours.”

“Never,” you hiss. You return to your senses and push his hands away, shoving hard against his chest. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you.”

He tugs your mask off and tosses it to the side, tired of pretense. “If you hate me so much, why does your heart beat like that?”

“I’m afraid of you,” you snap.

He laughs harshly. “No you’re not. You’ve never been afraid of anything, my darling. It is one of the things I love best about you.” He leans in closer, the tip of his nose just brushing yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, the sharp smells of whiskey and mint setting your nerves on edge. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and you freeze, heart pounding, face turned towards him, waiting for the axe to fall.

But he withdraws instead, leaving you to face the consequence of unrealized want. His words prick at you like the point of a sword. Love. As if he would know the first thing about it. As if he knew you.

But he does know you, you realize with a start. He made you. His actions had set you on your path, and his choice not to kill you, each time that he should have, had created the determined, single-minded, furious woman that you had become. The carefree girl who you had been was long gone, dead the first time the wolf’s jaws closed around your throat. It burns you to think that he’d shown you mercy all along, that you had escaped capture or death by his leave, rather than by your own cunning and skill.

His eyes remain on your face, reading your thoughts like you’re a book laying open, waiting for him to happen by and discover all your secrets. “You have become worthy of me,” he continues ardently, pressing your hand to his chest again, anchoring it with both of his own. “I would have kept you like a bird in a cage if I’d taken you then. A pretty thing to amuse me and adorn my halls. But you are no trophy, my love. You will not survive in captivity. Even now, with the king’s sword hanging over your head, I will not force you to stay.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

“I used to wonder the same thing. A cruel trick of fate, that my mate would hate me so fiercely.”

“You killed my father,” you hiss at him. You yank your hand away, desperately stoking the anger that has kept him at bay all these years. Each time he calls you mate and darling and love your resolve quakes, and you have no sword in your hand to make him regret it, like you usually would.

“He was a traitor. I had orders.”

“And what comfort will that be when your orders are to kill me?” you ask, sneering up at him. “What will you do when your orders are explicit and undeniable, and you are to kill me on sight?”

“I’ll never see you again.”

You aren’t sure what you expected, exactly, but it always trips you up when he speaks plainly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“What do you think it means?” He hurls the words back at you, his anger lighting from your own. “It means I would pluck my own eyes out before I’d kill you. If the king ordered me to hunt you down I’d stay one step behind you until we reached the very ends of the earth. If he came outside this very moment and told me to snap your neck—” He shudders, shaking his head like a dog shakes off the rain, and when he looks back at you the anger is gone, hidden away again behind his steely resolve. “Loyalty only goes so far. He knows not to make an order I cannot follow. If he truly wants you dead, he’ll ask another.” He glances over his shoulder, keen yellow eyes fixing on a point somewhere inside. “I hope it does not come to even that.”

“But why?”

He lets go of your shoulders and turns around, stalks a few feet away, and turns again, pushing both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Because I love you!” he snarls. “You had me the first day you tried to run me through. Oh I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful thing that you are, but it was the first moment that you tried to cut my heart out that I knew there could be no other. You have no idea what it’s like, to love such a stubborn, foolish, bitch of a woman? Do you understand what it will do to me, when you leave? But I have never been able to keep you by force.”

“But you let me go,” you say numbly. “You said—”

“Let you go?” He laughs, striding back towards you. “Oh my love, you misunderstand. Just because I couldn’t kill you does not mean I didn’t try to keep you. But you have slipped every chain I’ve placed upon you. I’ve never pulled my punches. I would not disrespect you so.”

“You called it a game—”

He inclines his head towards you. “I did. Perhaps I should not have. But it was easier to think of it as a game. A test of my own worthiness. I admit, I have always looked forward to your attempts on my life. It’s good, I think, for a man to be beaten once in a while, to keep him sharp. Otherwise he forgets to be vigilant.” He sighs, touching the edge of an old, silvery scar on your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of your hair out of the way. “Besides. We’ve both made our marks upon the other.”

“I’ve gotten you more times than you have me,” you say, lifting your chin imperiously. “Two or three times I really thought I’d finished you off.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

You think about it. “Yes.”

“Care to make a wager, dearest? If you’ve left more marks on me than I on you, you may ask anything of me.”

You draw in a steady breath. “And if I lose?”

He grins. “Not so confident now, are you? I only want what is freely given, so you needn’t worry. You can name your own penalty.”

“How magnanimous.”

“I can be,” he says. “Now, shall we inspect each other here, or would you prefer somewhere more private?”

The thought of being alone with the wolf makes you shiver, but it’s not revulsion that you feel, it’s something far worse. The dark, cold balcony seems a world away from the golden ballroom with all it’s legions of beautiful, elegant guests, but it’s only panes of glass that separates you from them, hazy from condensation, opaque enough that you doubt anyone can see through them. It makes no material difference, in the end, but it’s winter, and the cold seeps through your dress easily, your skin only warm where he touches you. “Ah, yes,” you say nervously. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“And warmer,” he adds. “As stunning as you look, I do not believe you are dressed for the weather.”

As if on cue, a snowflake descends from the dark sky. You reach out your hand, catching it against your palm. A moment later, the sky is thick with snow, fat, fluffy flakes catching the light and turning the world white. You look back at him. He looks softer, somehow, with that little dusting of snow catching in his thick curls, melting flakes glittering like diamonds on his shoulders. For the first time, you’re struck by how young he looks. He was a man grown at your first meeting, and you had always thought of him as much older, but you know now that he couldn’t be ten years your senior. You suspect it’s much less than that.

It changes something in your perception of him. Softens him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, stepping in close again. Although you’ve hardly moved an inch since you came out to the balcony, he’s full of restless energy, moving away and back again like he’s tethered to you by some invisible string. He tilts his head to the side, his keen predator eyes practically glowing in the soft light.

You were glad your face was already flushed from the cold. “I was just thinking. You look so…” You trail off, thinking of the best way to phrase it.

“Handsome?” he suggested. “Strong? Irresistible?” He wiggles his thick black eyebrows, grinning wickedly, making you laugh despite yourself.

“I was going to say young, actually,” you say. “I was wondering what sort of boy you were.”

He holds a hand out to you. “I’m sure there’s a portrait somewhere, if you’re curious. Now come along, pet, I don’t want you catching a cold out here. I do have a wager to win.”

You hesitate. All the ancient, bitter anger and sadness wars with something new in your chest. It’s been so long since you wanted anything more than vengeance. Ages since the last time you felt deep, aching want for someone’s hands on you, if you ever even had. The obsession between you, at least, was mutual, and you had traded the excitement of romance for the thrill of the hunt, the clash of your sword against the wolf’s. His taunting sounded better than flowery poetry to your ears, and you could not help but seek him out every time the loneliness of your new life became too much to bear. He had been your focus, your centre, your reason for existing for so long that you can no longer deny what this is.

Love is not always kind. Between the two of you, it’s become a desperate, wretched thing, living on scraps of attention and hungry looks traded in battle.

His fingers close around yours, and you realize that you’ve reached out and taken the offered hand. You look at him, and he’s smiling in a way you haven’t seen before, half-hitched up on one side, almost shy.

He twines his fingers through yours and leads you back through the ballroom, slipping around the edges of the crowd like the wolf he is. No one seems to pay either of you any mind, although you feel curiously bare without your mask, as visible as a hare in a field to the eyes of a hawk. But your hunter is holding your hand, his thumb stroking over yours soothingly, like he can sense your unease.

Despite that small reassurance, you’re grateful when you step into a nearly empty corridor. A few well-dressed servants carrying trays bustle between the ballroom and the kitchens at the far end, but your wolf leads you the other way, through a few hallways littered with decorative items and portraits of long-dead nobles with eyes that seemed to follow you. You had been there only a few days earlier, but it looks different now. Perhaps it’s that you aren’t on constant guard for the wolf. He’s already here, holding your hand, pretending that he’s not watching you, just as you pretend to look at the portraits and statues and expensive looking vases you pass by, stealing glances at him only when you think you can get away with it.

The silence between you is almost comfortable, both of you too caught up in your individual tumble of thoughts to put anything to words. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder if he feels like he’s won already, but there’s none of his usual taunting or his infuriatingly handsome smirk. He looks serious, black brows lowered in a sort of pensiveness that you’ve never seen from him. Of course, you had only once gone so long in his company without attacking him physically, and you had been tied to a chair, at the time.

“Do you remember, a few years ago, the hunting lodge just above Lake Pym?” he asks.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about it. Why?”

He stops in front of a door and leans against the frame. “Do you think you’ll be able to go as long without trying to stab me this time around?”

“That depends on whether or not you tie me up again,” you quip back.

“Don’t say such things,” he warns you, opening the door and holding it open, letting go of your hand for the first time in ages. Your fingers feel cold without his touch. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“You’ve made far too many confessions tonight for me to believe that you didn’t already have ideas,” you tease. Funny how easily that comes, like you’re old friends and not enemies. A tidy little fire burns in the stone fireplace, with a cozy arrangement of rugs and furs laid out before it. A low table sits ready, carrying wine and glasses and a few plates of the sort of interesting finger-foods that they had been serving in the ballroom. Raising your eyebrows, you look back over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the way in, which meant that it had been all prearranged.

He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, grinning sheepishly. “I live in hope.”

The room - his room- is neat, a big bed with four posts carved like small trees, green-velvet curtains tied back neatly, is the first sign that he might actually like colour. You imagined him always in sombre black and white, dark hair, white teeth, dressed like the reaper and often so employed. But perhaps he isn’t as stark as you’d always thought. His furniture is solid and well-made of warm-toned wood, and the bookshelves that flank the fireplace are stuffed with books, the odd space cleared out for knick-knacks and trophies. You had never considered that he might like to read. It isn’t something that has ever come up before.

The wolf sits down on the furs and nudges a black lump by the fire. The shape uncurls into the biggest, fattest, blackest cat you’ve ever seen and pads over to you, sniffing your skirts suspiciously.

“You have a cat?” you ask, because it seems unlike the picture you’ve built up of him over the years. Another thing you missed. You had been so focused on him as an enemy that you had hardly stopped to consider him as a man. You sit, and the cat drapes itself across your lap, purring already in anticipation of a good scratch.

“I don’t have a cat,” he corrects you loftily. “Smudge is the matriarch of a proud line of excellent mousers, and she is a valued member of the household. One cannot own a cat, I have learned. One co-habituates with cats.” He leans over and gives the cat a little scratch under the chin, his knuckles just barely brushing your knee as he withdraws. “She isn’t usually very friendly, but she must recognize a fellow assassin when she sees one.”

“I’m not much of an assassin, I’m afraid she’d be terribly disappointed in me. I’ve failed to kill my only target, and I have been at it for quite some time.” You give the cat a scratch behind the ears. “I’m sure her record is much more impressive.”

He frowns and looked at you in a funny way. “Have you never taken a life?”

“I’ve tried very hard to avoid it. You’re the only person I ever wanted dead, and I— I wanted to be better than you. I wanted my hands to stay clean, so I could beat you and still keep my sense of…” You look down at the purring black puddle of fur in your lap rather than at the wolf. “Oh I don’t know. Righteousness, I suppose.”

“So sweet that you wanted me to be your first,” he teases.

You know he means first kill, but you turn pink anyway, and there is no cold wind to blame for your rosy cheeks this time. There were many firsts that you had missed out on, in your bid for vengeance. “Perhaps I still do,” you snap, not thinking about the double meaning until after the words have left your mouth. You scramble to clarify. “My first kill— Not— Ugh.” He begins to laugh, and you cover your face with both hands, wishing the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Stop laughing!” Your voice is muffled by your hands, but there is no way that his keen wolf’s ears don’t hear you perfectly. “That’s not what I meant!”

He snorts. “I know, pet. It’s a bit late for that, I should think.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Darling.” He leans over and gently takes hold of your wrists, prying your hands away. He is mercifully no longer laughing, but the look in his eyes only makes your face burn hotter. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never taken a lover.”

“There was never a good time,” you manage to squeak out. It was half true. There had been offers, and moments when you’d been sorely tempted to share someone’s bed for the night, but the few fumbling kisses you’d shared with young men had failed to thrill you the way that crossing swords with the wolf did.

He sits back with a groan. “You’re always throwing wrenches into my plans.”

“How on earth could that have anything to do with your plans?” you ask hotly.

“Darling, don’t be so naive. My plans were obviously to seduce you into my bed so I could out-perform every man who had ever touched you, forcing you to admit to yourself that we belong together. But I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“Too easy!”

“I would never imply that you would be easily seduced, my love, only that I am fairly confident that you would have a harder time denying what we are if I were to employ my considerable athletic ability with the task of making you come undone.” He smiles ruefully. “But seduction isn’t fair if you’re a virgin. I’ll have to win your heart the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” You stare at him, incredulous. “What, you’re going to court me?”

“I’m certainly going to try,” he says, turning toward the table to pour you a glass of wine. “It’s the long road, but you’ll find I’m usually more than willing to take the scenic route.”

“You’re insane,” you say weakly, accepting the offered glass. “You must be.”

“Must I be? Like you said, I’ve made far too many confessions tonight, you must know that I do not mean this as some passing fancy. I think it would be a waste to continue this bloody crusade of yours. For both of us. I confess my bias in the matter, as I rather enjoy living.” He shrugs, looking at you over the rim of his own glass. “Do you? Has your life been all you wished for, these past ten years? You’ve forgone comfort, education, friends, romance, children— Do you want none of those things?”

“Of course I do—”

“Then take them. Everything you want is yours if you stay.” He takes a sip of wine and winces, face screwing up like a child tasting something bitter. “Ugh, I hate wine.”

“I know. I was wondering if you were going to drink from that glass you’ve been waving around.”

“I just wanted to indicate that it wasn’t poisoned.” He sets the glass to the side, still grimacing. “Just in case you were wondering if I was still trying to trick you.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Perish the thought, my love.” He stretches out in front of the fire, propped up on one elbow. “I’ve laid down my arms. If you must end this once and for all to free yourself, so be it. But I do think my alternative is better.”

You set your wine to the side as well and reach back to pull the silver hair-stick from your curls. You consider it, for a moment, pressing the point into your fingertip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. He watches with an inscrutable expression, making no move to disarm you. The cat slips out of your lap and stretches, moving off into the shadows again, either unaware or uncaring of the danger to her house mate. Or perhaps she’s simply more aware than you that there is no longer any danger.

You reach out and place the make-shift weapon on the rug in front of him.

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a long moment. The wolf was rarely rendered speechless— getting him to shut up was usually the more difficult task. But he simply looks at you, like you’ve performed a miracle in front of his very eyes.

You slide one of the plates of food off the table and set it on the floor between you, something to hopefully distract his attention a little. You pick up one of the little triangle pastries and take a bite, catching crumbs with your other hand. You eat two more, realizing that you haven’t eaten in hours, and wait for him to break the silence.

He sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking both hands under his head. Firelight dances over his skin, burnishing his features like well-polished bronze. Although you have known him a long time, you’ve never studied him like this, while his eyes are closed and his usual grin is smoothed out into a peaceful smile. He looks noble, like a hero from the epics you used to read as a girl, more like you remembered from the days before everything changed.

“You’re staring,” he says without cracking an eye.

“How would you know? You haven’t opened your eyes in ages.”

“And how would you know that, if you haven’t been staring?”

He has you there. “Alright, fine. I suppose I was. I was just thinking about… about before.”

He opens his eyes. “How long? We do have a rather storied history, don’t we, love? I myself have been thinking of Lake Pym.”

You smirk. “I bet you have. I had a feeling you were rather enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It would have been more fun if you were a more willing guest, or if I at least didn’t have to keep you tied to a chair the whole time.”

“You wouldn’t even let me feed myself,” you lament, though you can’t help the traitorous note of amusement in your voice. “It was terribly humiliating.”

“Revisionist drivel!” he snarls playfully. “I did untie you so you could feed yourself, and you tried to stab me. You forced my hand.”

You blink. “I suppose I did.”

He leans closer. “I suspected you just wanted me to take care of you. You were too proud to ask me for what you wanted, so you forced the situation. And snapped at my fingers the whole time like an absolute menace.” He holds up his right hand and displays a white mark around the first knuckle of his thumb. “That’s one, by the way.”

“I only bit you because you stuck your finger in my mouth,” you reminded him.

“Ah, I suppose I did get a bit carried away, didn’t I? There was just this moment when I touched your lip…” He reaches out as if he wants to repeat the remembered gesture, perhaps hoping for a better outcome, but he hesitates, dropping his hand. You almost wish he hadn’t. “Are you still too proud, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He senses your weakness. The way the answer drips with doubt like blood from a wound. “Will you let me kiss you?” He moves closer, anticipating your answer before it leaves your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Yes.”

At long last, he closes the distance between you, hands cradling each side of your face. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, and holds you back when you try to chase him, his familiar wolfish smile lighting up his face. “Not so fast, my darling. You’ll have to ask nicely, if you want a proper kiss.” He unbuttons the cuff of his black shirt only a moment later, his eyes dropping away from yours for a moment, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Two and three, respectively,” he says, pointing out two more scars along his forearms. They were both from similar situations. Two times that you had disarmed him and made him bleed for it. You reach out and touch the silvery marks, feeling the smooth gap in his arm hair and the fully repaired muscle underneath the flawed skin. “You’re a better swordsman than I,” he says, reaching up to unlace the top of his tunic. “I might have had the edge of experience, at the beginning, but you quickly caught up to me, didn’t you? It was a good thing you were so scrupled about killing people other than me, or I’d have lost far too many good men to your blade.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?” He pulls the tunic and shirt off in one go, baring his chest. There are a few scars there that you could not claim, and two that you can, although your eyes are drawn to one in particular. The ugly, uneven star right next to his heart, where you had run him through with the iron poker on the night of the wolf. “This one is my favourite,” he tells you, pressing one of your hands to the scar. “The first time you tried to kill me. Jon had to half-heal me himself, or I wouldn’t have made it to a proper healer in time. It’s partially why there’s such a scar. He’s always been terrible at the more subtle magics, but if you want something blown up, Jon’s your man.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you also note, in that treacherous little mind of yours, that he will not employ his considerable magical gift with the task of making me explode. He is still rather fond of me, even after all these years.”

“It is good, I think, to have a king that is so well-versed in the art of restraint,” you say mildly.

“Oh yes, I imagine it is.”

“So is it really just the five scars?” you ask. “That’s all?” Despite the truce the two of you had settled into, you felt strangely disappointed that your obsession with killing him over the last decade had resulted in only a handful of scars. It all felt like a waste. You try to console yourself with the knowledge that he heals more rapidly than most men. The scars you have left are despite that.

“There’s one more, on my thigh, but I imagine you probably don’t want me to take my pants off.”

You do want him to take his pants off. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you say instead. “I suppose you’ve won, anyway. I have a lot more than six scars from you.” You had expected that his life as a warrior would have marked him more significantly. You’re covered in scars, faded and fresh alike, and there is no getting around the fact that you feel like you’ve stitched yourself up so often that you look as worn down as your oldest, ugliest shirt.

The disappointment in his eyes is gone so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure you hadn’t imagined it. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’re just trying to get me out of my dress,” you say hotly.

“Obviously. You look very lovely in it, of course, but I have been hoping for the chance to peel it off of you.”

You shake your head. “I think you’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“Never. What would possibly deter me at this point, darling? If stabbing me through the heart didn’t erode my affections, what could?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could have scales, or a tail—”

“I have a tail,” he reminds you. “And I’m quite positive that you’re human, so I’m not worried about scales. Or strange birth-marks or stretch-marks or scars, either, by the way.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, turning your back to him. “It would help if you could undo all these buttons for me,” you say, sweeping your hair in front of your shoulder. “There are so many of them.”

He jumps to his feet and scrambles to help. A few buttons plink to the floor, torn free in his haste. “I’ll have it fixed,” he says hastily. “And I’ll buy you new gowns. As many as you can stand.”

You glance over your shoulder, nervous laughter stilling on your tongue when you see the look in his eyes. You turn forward again, sliding your arms through the sleeves and shimmying the gown to he floor. He gives you a hand to steady yourself as you step free. “I— I don’t want— I won’t stay.”

He hums in response, gathering up the gown and laying it over the back of a chair.

“I won’t,” you repeat yourself, as if the words will sound convincing the second time. They don’t.

“I already told you, darling, I won’t make you stay. It’s up to you.”

He draws you back to your seats in front of the fire, and you offer him your arms. You’re riddled with fine scars, most of them faint, little nicks from his blade. His hands slide up to your shoulder and gently tug the capped sleeve of your chemise to the side, baring the imprint of his jaws. His thumb runs across the marks, his other hand landing on your knee.

“I wondered if I’d bitten you that night.” He moves closer, his tongue moving over his sharp canines as he sighs. His fingers trail down your arm as his touch drops away. “You never turned, so I wasn’t sure.”

“It doesn’t always take,” you say, using his shoulder to help you back up to your feet. “I think it depends on the moon. New moon, that night. If you were any other wolf you never would have shifted.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He settles back on his heels, looking up at you. “I can’t say I’ve thought about why some bites take and some don’t. I’m not as observant as you, my love.”

Laughable, when his senses are many times greater than your own. It’s not his observations that are the problem, it’s the connecting cause and effect, thinking about consequence for more than a moment. He’s faced so few consequences in his life that it doesn’t come naturally to him. You, on the other hand, are a mess of consequence, action and reaction measured and weighed, failures poured over until you can see every mistake you’ve made, follow the tracks to how things could have been, if you’d done it all just a little differently.

You pull your skirt up so you can untie the ribbon that holds up your stocking, and he slides it down to your ankle. “This one’s only indirectly your fault,” you say, angling your leg so he can see the trail of pocked scars that wrap around your knee and up your thigh. “When I jumped down that ravine. Scraped myself up on the rocks.”

He tuts, hands reaching for these scars too. It’s just an excuse to touch you, certainly, but you make no move to stop him. You just hold your skirt up, giving him unfettered access to your skin. His amber eyes flick up to your face, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to your knee.

There’s no halting the soft “Oh” that falls from your lips, but he would have heard even the softest catch of breath. There’s no hiding from him, and it terrifies you, leaves you so unsteady.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his exhale warm against your skin. “You shouldn’t show me any more,” he tells you. “I find myself wanting to kiss every inch of skin you show me, and I worry that you won’t stop me if I try.”

You sink back to his level and pull your stocking back up, tying the ribbon around your thigh again. “Would that be so bad?”

He groans and lays back on the furs, hands neatly folded on his stomach. “I am trying to be a good man for you, darling. You deserve more than I can give in one night. I need at least a few weeks to make you fall hopelessly in love with me before I can do anything that would tempt me to take you to bed.”

You run your palm over his stomach, feeling the soft pelt of hair over his warm skin, letting your curiosity guide your fingertips. You feel the expansion and contraction of muscle as he breathes in and out, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch you more easily, his eyes barely open.

You have to admit, he is handsome, especially relaxed like this. Only a few short hours ago you would have found the idea of him kissing any part of you abhorrent, but now you find yourself similarly compelled. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles, the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Come here, you little minx,” he growls, trying to pull you down on top of him. You pull back, and he lets go, still worried about pushing you when you’ve made so many overtures in such a short time.

You had expected him to hold on tightly, however, and overbalance, tipping over the other way with an inelegant little squeak. He laughs as he sits up, and you do too as he helps you back upright. He lays back again, and there’s no resistance when he takes you with him this time. He tucks you into his side, and you look down at him, chin propped on your hand.

“I rescind my earlier statement,” he says.

“Which one?”

“You don’t have to ask nicely for a kiss, darling. I worry that you’re too prideful to admit that you might like one, but if you can steal one whenever the mood strikes you, I might be lucky enough to receive a few impulsive ones that your good sense isn’t fast enough to stop.”

You huff. “Is this your way of asking for another?”

“It’s my way of asking for as many as you might want to give me,” he says. “There is, of course, a standing offer of anything you might like that is within my power to supply. I think it prudent to remind you.”

He’s a ridiculous kind of man. You’d always thought his tendency toward verbosity was just him grandstanding, but now you see it for what it really is. He wants to be understood by you so desperately that each sentence becomes overwrought, less clear for his efforts to imbue each word with meaning. Your own tendency toward blunt, inelegant language is an almost laughable counter. You say little, and hide everything you can, and he reads you plainly. He speaks like a poet, puts everything out in the open, and you misunderstand him on purpose.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t see this for what it is a long time ago. If you were not so determined to make an enemy of him, perhaps you would have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you as though you’re the sunrise and set, like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky.

You kiss him, before he can open his mouth to speak again. There’s nothing lacklustre about the way your lips slide over his, the way your breath mingles, the way he makes little noises of satisfaction, unable to be quiet even with his tongue flicking over your top lip, encouraging you to open up for him. Angling your head to keep your noses from smushing together, you oblige, letting him lick into your mouth, his arms circling you, holding you tight against his body.

You can't put a name to the feeling that sparks between you, but it's the thing that's been missing from every kiss you've had before.

The heat, the need of it all burns away all that remains of your carefully maintained resolve. He loves you, fool that he is, and you're not sure you could survive without him now. Is that what love is? To mourn even the thought of their absence from you, to cling tightly and never let go? To sink into each other until you're one, two halves of the same whole?

He kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen from the tug of his sharp teeth, jaw curiously sore from moving in a new way. You pull back first, braced on one arm as you look down on him. He's beautiful, more than human, wild-eyed and fey, but solid and warm beneath you in a way only a man could be. His imperfections make him dearer to you, not just the marks you've drawn on his skin, but the gap between his two front teeth, the way one brow arches a little more than the other, giving him that permanently skeptical look that had always made you feel he was making fun of you. The crooked smile, the notch in one ear.

You know his face more intimately than your own, but you still want to look at him, especially through this new lens.

“I don’t think I want to wait,” you admit. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?

“Are you certain?” he asks.

“I don’t see what difference it makes, really.”

“It makes a great deal of difference. I’ve taken enough from you, I don’t want you to regret it.” He gazes up at you, tracing along your jaw with careful touch.

Your heart races rabbit-quick in your chest, and although you're the one looking down at him, you feel pinned in place by the wolf's eyes alone. "Then make sure I don't," you say softly. "I can even promise not to make another attempt on your life until the morning."

"Darling…"

"Please. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but tonight I think I want your hands on me."

"You think?" His fingers catch around the back of your neck, as though he's waiting for some cue before he pulls you back into his arms.

“I know.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling the two of you so his big body stretches over yours, your underskirts bunching up as he slots his thick thigh between yours, pressing against your core. He holds most of his weight off of you, but you’re still trapped beneath him. For the first time in a long while, there is no panic, no desire to fight furiously for freedom. You feel quite content where you are, especially when his thigh flexes, rubbing against you firmly, sending a shower of sparks through your belly. You gasp against his mouth, your hands skimming down his sides gingerly. When he does it again, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his back reflexively, murmuring apologies as his lips leave yours and slide down your bared throat.

“Don’t,” he growls against your pulse, dragging his tongue roughly over your skin. “Don’t apologize. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth graze the slope of your shoulder, finding the older scar from his lupine jaws. You let out a shuddering gasp when he bites down lightly, not even hard enough to leave a mark. There’s a part of you that wants him to leave a mark, a bruise if not something more permanent, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him out of gentleness tonight.

He kisses down your chest, grinning up at you when he reaches the top edge of your corset. “You are still wearing far too much clothing, my love. Come here.” He stands in a smooth movement, and you’re untethered without the weight of his body against yours, but only for a moment. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bed, taking a seat on the edge and pulling you between his knees, turning you so he can loosen the laces of your corset.

You shed the garment as soon as you’re able, as well as the extra petticoats. Your chemise is thin, loose material, obscuring little, but you leave it on while you sit beside the wolf, toeing your heeled slippers off and nudging them under the bed and out of the way. Hands folded, you wait, heart beating like a drum. You feel so strange, almost outside your own body, watching him unlace his boots and tug them off impatiently.

He stands to strip off his trousers, and you quickly avert your gaze, looking down at your hands rather than see him in his fully undressed state. You have a rough idea of what you’d find, you’ve been in the public baths more than a few times, and even doing your best to be respectful, it’s hard not to see something. But seeing something in a setting where everyone is minding their own business is a lot different than seeing something up close, especially when you might be expected to do more than just look.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” he says, kneeling in front of you, clasping his hands around yours. Your eyes fly back up, landing on his face. His chuckle makes your cheeks burn. “If you’re nervous—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I’m just— I hate not knowing what I’m supposed to do.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that darling. It’s your first time, I should think the responsibility rests on my shoulders. All you have to do is tell me when you like something and when you don’t.” He leans forward, forcing your thighs apart to accommodate the bulk of him, and kisses you, all sweetness. “And if you want to stop, we stop. Anything more than that can wait at least until the second or third time.”

It sounds so simple, put like that.

“Besides,” he adds, giving you a wicked grin as his hands move to your hips, the movement rucking your chemise up further on your thighs. “You’ve always been a quick study.”

Well, he’s right about that. His lips find your throat again, pressing languid kisses down your chest until he reaches the edge of your chemise. His eyes flick upwards, seeking permission before he goes further. You untie the simple knot with one hand, the other petting through his soft curls.

He noses aside the thin fabric to find your nipple, latching on with a contented hum. The act sends tremors down into your core, intensifying as his tongue flicks across. You pull in a shuddering breath, and your exhale becomes a whimper when his teeth nip at you, his other hand coming up to grope at your other breast, his touch warm and appreciative before his grip slides down to your hips and he tugs you to the edge of the mattress.

He pulls away from your breast and kisses you properly again. “Do you want more?” he asks. “Can I taste your pretty cunt, darling?”

The desire in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, and he sits back on his heels and kisses all the way up your thigh, although he pauses and pulls back to your other knee, kissing his way up again, this time sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make you jolt, your pearl begging for any kind of friction. When he passes over your cunt to mouth at your other thigh, you whine, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed. You can feel your cunt dripping, the air strangely cool on your wet skin.

A pair of mischievous eyes glance up at you. He’s doing this on purpose. He started all of this, and now he has the gall to tease you. Glaring in response, you grip him by the hair and pull him in, determined to put his clever mouth to better use than smirking and biting you when you need him elsewhere.

To his credit, he makes no complaint and does what he’s directed, slipping his tongue between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal. His big hands push your thighs up so he can get a better angle, and he kisses your cunt with as much passion as he did your lips, if not more.

The feeling is electric. His mouth scorches, sets you alight in ways you’d never imagined, the occasional scrape of his too sharp teeth against you thrilling. It’s too good, has you fighting his grip even as your fingers are still tightly wound into his hair, holding him close. It’s too much, but if he stopped it would be so much worse.

If he minds your writhing, he doesn’t show it. You can’t help the sounds he pulls from you, but he’s louder, as though this is more for himself than for you. He groans when your hips buck against his mouth, pants when he lifts himself away enough to breathe, his amber eyes gleaming, fixed on your face, except the few times they flutter closed, just for a moment, savouring your taste.

His nose nudges your pearl as his tongue presses inside you. You grip him so tightly to your core, your hips shaking so hard that you’re surprised you don’t break his nose. The hot, molten cataclysm that’s been pooling somewhere behind your belly button overtakes you, sweeping you away, limbs seized, unable to out-swim the current. You can’t see past the stars in your eyes even after your legs relax and you force your hand to unclasp his hair, finger by finger, so you can lay back on the mattress, breathing hard.

He crawls up onto the bed and pulls you toward the centre, a self-satisfied grin on his face. His cock presses into your thigh, insistent for attention, the tip peeking out and leaking against your thigh. He ruts against you when he kisses you again, his close-cropped beard soaked with your arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and bitter-sweet.

You lay twined together, forehead pressed against his as you both catch your breath. One hand gently brushes up and down your spine, the other pulling your leg up over his hip. “How was that?” he asked.

There may not be words for what you feel. Maybe there are, but they’re beyond you right now, washed away with all the resistance in your body. You settle on nice, which makes him laugh.

“Only nice, hm? I suppose I’ll have to work harder.”

“Better than nice,” you assure him. “I— I liked it a lot.” It’s still insufficient, so you kiss him again, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

He does, after a long moment. “Are you ready for more?”

“There’s more?” you ask. “Or— for you? Do you want me to—”

“No, there’s no need for you to do a thing, love. The next part is for both of us.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him effortlessly. He reaches past you with one hand while he kisses you sweetly, tongue pushing into your mouth at the same moment you feel his cock slot against your entrance. He pushes in gently, halting when he meets resistance, fucking shallowly into you until you relax enough to let him bury himself deeper into your body.

You tuck your face down against his chest, focusing on the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, so deep inside you that his presses against your womb. He tries to keep himself still, but his hips buck slightly, tearing a groan from your chest. There’s no stopping the way your cunt squeezes down on him in response, nor the way your hips grind against him. He makes a choked sound, breathing out shakily when you push yourself up to look at him.

The angle change nearly has you collapsing back down, but he takes pity on you and flips you both so he can take the lead. “Hello, pretty thing,” he says, giving you another kiss and a firm grind into you before he starts moving his hips, slowly working himself in and out of your cunt, lips settling against your ear so he could tell you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock.

Any ability to respond is quickly fucked out of you, your breath punched out with every deep thrust, your world shrinking down to a handful of sensations: his lips on your ear, the weight of his body and the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls.

He works his hand between you to rub at your pearl, the heel of his hand pressing down on your lower belly. The thought that he can feel himself inside you with your hand is one of the last fully formed ones that cross your mind, because he growls and picks up the pace, unrelenting until you’re shaking and babbling and clinging so tightly to him that you’re certain you’ll leave permanent marks.

He drags you up another precipice and throws you over, his forehead pressed to yours, watching your face as you shake and cry out. He ruts into you, and you can feel him fill your cunt, his cock twitching, rooted firmly inside you. He doesn’t pull away, just throws himself onto his back, holding you tight to his chest.

His heart beats like a drum under your ear, slowing gradually as he catches his breath. His cock slips free, and you stiffen slightly as his spend leaks from your swollen cunt, spilling onto his belly. He pops his head up as soon as you tense, and huffs out a laugh, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Sex can be a bit messy. Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Your legs wobble when you try to stand, but he happily slides a supportive arm around your waist, leading you into the adjoining tap room. Once you’re both cleaned up, he coaxes you out of your sweat-soaked chemise and wraps you in one of his shirts and you both sit back down in front of the fire.

You pick up your abandoned wine glass, holding it with both hands as you eye the wolf. He looks content, satiated, like he’s had his fill of you. There’s a little tremor of unease that settles in your belly. Now that the chase is over, will he still want you? Do you still want him to want you? At the beginning of the evening you had been determined to kill him, and now…

He looks back at you through half-closed eyes, and unfurls his arm. “You’re too far away,” he tells you, voice a warm purr. “And you’re thinking too much.”

It’s still unfair, how easily he reads you. An open book, pages left open for him to flip through at his leisure. Despite your trepidation, you walk forward on your knees and sit against him, knees tucked under his arm. His fingertips trail up your thigh, over your knee, down your calf, and back, over and over, as he waits for you to speak.

“What happens now?” you ask at last. “Do we go our separate ways?”

Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it behind a neutral mask. “If that’s what you want.” His fingers continue retreading their path while silence builds between the two of you. At last, he pulls in a fortifying breath. “Is that what you want?”

There’s raw desire in his eyes, not tempered in the least by your coupling. He offers you everything so easily that it feels like it must be a trick, but he wouldn’t work so hard to hide his feelings if he didn’t care for you, if this were a trap. If you stay, it has to be your choice, not made because of his own want for you to remain by his side.

The anger that kept you warm in all your years out in the cold is gone. Killing him won’t bring your family back from the grave, it would just place another soul in one. The desire for revenge truly burned out a long while ago, and you couldn’t admit that only embers remained. It was why you were so desperate to end it tonight, to close the chapter and look forward to something new.

It’s so like your wolf to ruin your plans. This time, you’re not sure you mind.

“I’d like to stay,” you say at last.

He’s on you so fast that you drop your wine glass, spilling red over the furs. It’s hard to stop laughing enough to kiss him back, trying to point out the mess to him. He growls something about not giving a damn as he gives up trying to kiss you through your smile, and presses his lips to your pulse instead.

In the end, with all the history between the two of you, what’s one more mess?

It's been almost five years since I started writing this short story, and I had fully expected not to finish it. I was caught up in the story in the peripherals, the potential history between Cat and Valter. This scene no longer fits in the overall narrative, even if there are still threads of it that remain unchanged, so I feel like it's safe to share. I'm working on the third draft of The Night of the Wolf, sorting out the mess of my second draft (so many changes it might as well be a second first draft) and I think there's a very real possibility that I can actually finish it, and that's in no small way thanks to all of you. I have been writing for a long time, but it's only been in the past year that I've shared my work with anyone, and it's been a really lovely experience. Thank you for reading my silly fanfictions, thank you for reading this, and I hope to share more bits of original work going forward, if there's any interest. (But don't worry, I'm still gonna finish the fanfictions. I show no signs of stopping yet)

C. T. Cutter

(Also, special thanks to my best human person @dragonnarrative-writes for making me finish this and being so so kind to me about my work and encouraging me always. I am bad at accepting compliments but I appreciate them all the same)

Image Credits: 1 - 2 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[yan-maid-cafe]

This writing isn't mine, it was made by OP. He just put it in the tags and I wanted y'all to see his full work.

when calling sekdio. he pretends to ignore you but you can tell he heard you when his ear twitches

He's flabbergasted that you met someone else to begin with. who let you go out without one of them?!

hes too shocked and angry to even properly get upset!!

Karaku loves everything you have to say. less so if its positive abt someone else. still listens tho. listening carefully for details..

he doesnt mind others eyeing you. youre perfect in his eyes. who wouldnt? still.. thats not gonna fly well.

Urogi loves when you seek him out but mentioning someone else… is bc you want to feed him right? ofc! you want to benefit him!

its cause hes your favorite! yeah! youre so sweet!!! ofc he'll get rid of someone for you both!!

Aizetsu's bashful. he feels put on the spot when calling him but hes always hoping you give him affection of some kind. always ready for yo

mentioning someone else was NOT what he wanted and now hes sad.. youre making him sad.. whats so important you had to bring that up?

The thought of anyone else makes him feel so exhausted already.. wont you comfort him instead? he needs you now.. atone for your mistakes

Do you ever do requests? If so, do you ever plan on drawing some Yandere with the Hantengu clones? :D hope you have a good day/night!!!

Mentioning an unfamiliar name

yes!! I love yanderes.. and these guys.. these guys are such good material...... nods nods..

I'm not sure about requests..I assume you mean drawing requests? I suppose if it REALLY catches my interest enough, I'd do it, but it'd probably just be line art/sketches.

[hobby1008]

My sister

If you use a translator, the sentences may be strange.

eunchae X M Reader

Tags: incest,oral

You are sitting on the living room sofa without wearing a shirt, your eyes fixed on the TV screen while the movie is playing. Suddenly, your lovely sister Eunchae sits next to you. She calls you with a lovely smile.

"What are you doing, oppa?"

You look at her and say, "I was watching TV because I was bored." She immediately leaned on your shoulder and sat down, and she looked up at you again and said, "If you're bored, come hang out with me. I'm bored too."

You smiled at her cute request and said, "What do you want to do, my Eunchae?"

She came closer to me and caressed the front of your shorts with her hand without a care. "I want to suck yours." You looked at her, surprised by her sudden attitude, but her eyes were already looking up at you with lust, . You couldn't believe that your lovely sister had such a thought, and you had to refuse, but her beautiful appearance and happiness made your mind harden at the thought.

You were getting more excited as you looked at Eunchae's lovely face, and she felt some kind of happiness at your reaction. You nodded shyly. Then Eunchae smiled. "I have to make my brother happy."

You can feel your heart flutter at her words and feel your dick slowly hardening and tenting your pants. Noticing that, Eunchae teases you by pushing your cheek with her tongue and smirks at the corners of her mouth.

A shy smile spreads across your face as you scratch your head. "Okay, yeah, that works for me," you agree.

"Okay, I'll make you the happiest, brother." Eunchae says with a loving smile. She quickly scans the hallway toward your parents' bedroom, checking to see if the shore is clean. As the door closes tightly, Eunchae quickly moves down between your legs and pulls your panties completely off.

Your rock-hard dick bounces, and Eunchae looks at you with a satisfied expression. "Wow, oppa, it's big here too." She muttered as she wrapped her soft, gentle hands around your thick dick.

Eunchae starts slowly, tracing your slit with the tip of her tongue, feeling the Cooper's fluid already beading on your glans. She looked into your eyes with your reaction and loving gaze.

"Fuck," you moan, your hips squirming involuntarily as her plump, glossy lips stretch around your swollen shaft. She slowly sinks down until your cock is buried in the moist, soft heat of her mouth.

"Oh fuck, Eunchae." You hiss through clenched teeth, running your fingers through her black hair. She shakes her head, swirling her tongue around your cock, licking you with her saliva.

"Fuck, it feels so good Eunchae." You moan, holding back the urge to place both hands on her head and use her face. Eunchae moans around your cock, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through you.

Eunchae aligns her vacuum mouth with your cock, moving her head back and forth as she looks at you, her skills sloppy but loving smile for you and doing her best for you is more satisfying than any other situation. Beautiful and happy.

You groaned and wiggled your hips slightly. "Fuck, Eunchae. You're so pretty and lovely, and you feel so good."

She blushed even more at your compliment, and she shyly lifted her lips from your dick. "If you like it, I like it too." You were so happy and glad to hear her words, you stroked her head.

"Suck it again." You smiled, reaching out and tying her hair into a makeshift ponytail. "It feels so good, Eunchae."

Eunchae opened her mouth again and put your dick in her mouth and started sucking it. Eunchae's caressing was so good and exciting, but there was a little regret, so you stroked her head and said, "Eunchae, it feels so good, but can you do it harder? If you do it like this, it'll take a long time to cum." Eunchae started sucking it even harder at your words. Although not skilled, you used your tongue and hand to caress your dick and balls.

"Yes, Eunchae, do it more like that." You moaned, gripping her hair tightly. She smiled at you and swirled her tongue through the saliva coating your dick.

"Do you like it like this, oppa?" She muttered in a low, sensual voice. "I can do anything for you, oppa, so tell me as much as you want." She You said, sucking your balls and caressing your cock with your hands,

You guided Eunchae to your cock, desperately wanting her mouth to be around you more. “Keep doing this with your mouth,” you growled. “Keep touching my balls with your hands too.”

Eunchae opens her mouth and swallows your cock whole, her throat muscles spasming around your swollen cock until she gags and growls.

“Fuck, fuck!” You scream, your head falling back as you feel the soft, spongy velvet around your cock. The knot in your stomach tightens and the pressure builds in your groin.

Eunchae buzzes around you, the vibrations sending electric jolts of pleasure through your body. She’s pushing you dangerously close to the edge. Her passion is hotter than anything else in the world.

“You don’t have to do that, Eunchae.” Your fingers stroke her hair. She said while stroking, and Eunchae smiled at you and said, “I want to make you feel good, oppa, so just feel it, oppa.”

You loved the way Eunchae looked so much.

Eunchae used her lips again to seal tightly around your cock, and her throat tried to swallow every last blast of your thick, salty cum. You could hear her gulping it down without wasting a single drop.

“Ugh, fuck.” You moaned, your voice hoarse with pleasure. It felt like her mouth was sucking all of you, and his passion was truly amazing.

This whole situation was crazy. Your sister was kneeling between your legs, eagerly taking your load into her mouth. But Eunchae’s love for you easily broke down the barrier between them.

Finally, your orgasm subsided, and Eunchae pulled away from your cock, which had become soft with a lewd pop sound. She opened her mouth and spit out cum

"Did you like it? Oppa, you came out so much," she said, biting her lower lip.

You let out a shaky laugh, still a little breathless from the intensity of your orgasm. "Damn, Eunchae… I feel like I just went to heaven," you joked. "That was the best I've ever felt."

Eunchae smiled with the same innocent and happy smile at your words,

and said, "I'm happy because I see you enjoying it so much," and sucked out all the cum left in your cock.

You let her play with your cock, admiring the way her lips wrapped around you. "You're such a sweetheart, Eunchae, do you know that?" you mumbled, your eyes looking at her beautiful face.

Eunchae with a jealous look. "I'm jealous of your girlfriend. You can suck your dick all the time and make your boyfriend happy." You said.. "No, Eunchae, you can make me happy too. I'll look forward to it." Eunchae looked at you with a happy smile.

After she washed your body clean, she put the cloth back on your legs while you were standing.

Then Eunchae kissed your cheek and said, "If you want more, just tell me anytime, oppa." She shyly disappeared into her room.