#never have i ever wanted my brother’s rival

[bookloveravenue]

Never Have I Ever (book 4): Never Have I Ever Wanted My Brother’s Rival by Willow Dixon

“Why is the one person I hate the only guy I can’t stop thinking about?”

West, my older brother’s high school rival. The rich kid who has it all. The guy who disappeared six years ago and destroyed my brother’s life. I thought West and I were friends. I trusted him, but he showed me I was nothing more to him than a means to an end.

Being twenty and in my last year of college isn’t easy. Neither is being a virgin. I’ve never been normal or felt like I fit in, and I don’t feel what I’m supposed to. My online job has given me the perfect way to solve my virginity problem, but then the last person I ever wanted to see again shows up on my doorstep. Not only has West learned what I do for a living, he’s essentially my landlord. I hate him. So why can’t I stay away from him? Why is he the only person I’ve ever felt a connection with, who makes me feel like there’s something in me worth wanting?

Eli and West’s story is an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers romance between a former bad boy who seemingly has it all and an awkward genius who’s never felt like he fits in. Expect lots of banter and hot first times as these two try (and fail) to stay away from each other. It is the fourth novel in the steamy Never Have I Ever series but can be read as a standalone.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123175939-never-have-i-ever

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My Review: 4/5 Stars

It’s finally Eli’s turn! So glad that when I found this series, Eli’s book wasn’t too far away from coming out. I’ve liked who I had seen of Eli so far in this series and couldn’t wait to learn more. Especially since we’ve only gotten pieces of him in each book to get to know him more and I loved how the rest of the guys really took him under their wing and thought of him as their little brother. Now it’s finally his book and it was great! The house Eli and the guys share hasn’t been great recently. And when the water heater goes out they call management. But Eli is shocked to find that the new guy is none other than his brother’s rival from high school, West. Eli hasn’t seen West since the big blow out that threw his brother’s future off course and West disappeared. So he’s none too happy to see West. Yet, he can’t seem to hate him completely either. Not when West had always proved to be a great guy up until he left town. It may be time Eli finally gets the other side of the story. West has been gone a while and he has returned home. He has been controlled by his father since the incident in high school and starts to realize that he missed some important things while he was gone. And when he sees Eli again, he finds he can’t stay away. Then when a storm hits and West offers Eli to stay with him, things are about to change for the both of them. Loved their story! West and Eli were a great pair together. West totally gets everything about Eli and loves everything about him. He understands him in ways no one else really does and Eli realizes just how much he can be himself around him. And for West, he loves to be around Eli and loves that their relationship is so much more balanced than his past ones. He’s been lonely and never truly finding someone who is his equal. They make each other better. Plus you gotta love the other guys make appearances in the story and giving their two cents. This was such a fun series! I’m sad it’s over but I’m looking forward to the spin off that starts with Eli’s brother, Gray! 

[bunnys-kisses]

lust is a loaded hand gun

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, ferrari!reader, baby fever, seduction, cowgirl position, alcohol/drinking, breeding, the reader wants to have a baby and chooses to have it with max, max is not aware

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part 2: love is a kick to the stomach

this sounded stupid. but you wanted a baby. and while that was an easy task for most women, you knew that there was something impersonal about picking from a catalogue. reading profiles felt weird, like you were looking for a used car rather than the biological other half of your child. even if you'd raise them without a father, you'd rather have a night of passion than an awkward doctor's visit.

charles leaned back in his seat and asked, "why don't you and i just make one." he shrugged his shoulders. he considered himself close to you. you had been teammates for a little over two seasons and prior to that you knew each other. he didn't mind being the one to help you bring a child into the world, "i can be his uncle and he'd never know."

but, as close as you were to your teammate. you had other drivers in mind.

you made a face, "no offense, charles. but it would feel like doing it with my brother." being teammates meant you two knew too much about one another. you worked well as teammates and rivals because you were more like siblings. while you appreciated the offer, you felt it was weird.

charles asked, relaxed in his seat, "why are you doing this anyway? isn't there a million ways for you to have a child."

you shrugged, "i want to be a mom, i don't know. leave my seat behind to another woman and let her make all the history. i'm honestly tired. i've reached the peak and now." you sighed, "i want something else. i've got enough money to retire and let my future child retire before they're born." you crossed your arms, "i don't want to be doing this shit until i'm forty and just degrade in the skills department. end on a high note." while it was not an insult to other driver's on the grid. you felt bad that they never got to really be parents due to the schedules.

"so you need to seduce a driver to make that happen."

you nodded, out of the corner of your eye you spotted the driver you had your eye on. while you eyed the man crossing your path, your voice got softer, "and i think i know just the driver."

charles looked over to the direction you were looking at. he noticed who was walking by and he looked back to you, shoulders dropped, "max. you're going to seduce and have a child with max?"

you looked back to charles and shrugged, "why not? what's not to like?" max wasn't a perfect man, sometimes you wondered about the mechanics of his brain. but, you knew your child with him would lay waste to the track in the future.

"i can name a few. do you want them alphabetically or severity of it?" charles asked.

you gave him a look, "it wouldn't be hard to get him to sleep with me. you, me and the rest of the garage has seen how he looks at me. i mean who else do i have to choose from? either they're too old, they're rookies, or they have girlfriends. and i'm not getting a heel in the eye because i'm trying to have a baby."

charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, "i think you just like him."

you tensed up for a moment, "no. this is all just simple. scheming... nothing more. i don't expect to trap him with a child. he is free to live his life after i'm done with him."

charles found it hard to believe. not on your end, but max's. he had heard at sickeningly lengths about how max felt for you. it was probably the most eloquent the driver had ever been. if you got pregnant by him, he'd be getting a ring the next day. he sighed once more, "then have fun with the wold champion. i'd say to be safe, but i think being unsafe is the whole point of this."

you gave the once over of max in the near distance and smiled, "don't worry charles, you'll get all the details in the morning." which earned a groan from your teammate.

-

it started over a bottle of wine and ended in the motor home of red bull. you and max had gotten frisky over the evening. you wondered if anyone was selling the photos of you two in the back of the restaurant to tmz or some other trashy outlet. you had shared two bottles of wine over dinner. the benefit of being as wealthy as you were, you could throw the cash onto the table and giggle as you stumble out of your place.

you knew someone had a photo of max kissing you at the table to 'taste' the sauce that came with your meal. as if he couldn't take some from the plate.

but back in the motor home, you had dropped your purse by the door. in the dark of the place, you two were starting to get undressed. heels kicked to the wall, your bracelets set on the coffee table. your dress was on the floor by the bed, your bra over the lamp by the bed and your panties on the bed.

"i'm on top." you said as you kissed max's lips. he tasted like wine and fine dining. he tasted and smelled expensive. in all fairness he could be worth more than a micro nation. he was not an easy man to buy, but the currency of sex was in high demand. max wanted you, and you knew that because he got on his back without much argument.

you were both naked on the bed. the faint lights gleamed through the large windows as you rubbed up against max with no other lighting. you could see his face against the shadows of the night. his blue eyes were like gems and they pulled you in. whoever he ended up with would be very lucky.

but tonight you needed him. he was an important piece in your plan. you rubbed against him and with a little help, you sank down onto his cock. while cowgirl wasn't the best position to try and get pregnant, but it ensured that your plan would work. any position is a working one.

"you're beautiful."

"i know." you said as you rubbed yourself against him. you braced your hands on his strong chest. he was a handsome man, he was good at what he did and he was a winner. you knew anyone would be lucky to have him, but tonight was the perfect partner. you knew a child with him would be perfect.

you continued to rub up against him. the roll of your hips were methodical. this wasn't the first time you slept with a man. you moaned when max groped your breasts, massaged the flesh between those bear paws he called hands. soon you sank on his cock and shuddered, feeling the heat raise in your belly.

this was a mission, no time to get attached. you were both tipsy from the alcohol and the driver under you were more handsy than ever. you try not to feel the emotions that came with it. the feeling of being attached to someone you were having sex with. you batted charles' assumptions about your feelings for max out of your mind as you rode the dutch driver.

you were determined to get pregnant tonight. you measured it all down to a t, all you needed was for max not to get whiskey dick. you curved your back to get closer to him, your lips met his as you moved up and down. his cock was snug in your, but it went in almost perfect. the blunt head hit against the furthest parts of you. your heart hammered in your chest as you moved your hips.

you pushed hair out of your face before your braced your hands on his chest once more. he was very toned, you almost wanted to joke about what happened to his slightly kinder chocolate addiction. but that was neither here nor there.

"you feel so good." he grunted, "why haven't we done this before? fuck." he panted, he could feel the heat in his cheeks as you rode him. he had been with others before but being under you was a pleasure no money could buy. you were really good at it, knowing exactly how to make him feel good.

"good things take time." you panted, part of you wondered what would happen if you covered his mouth. you didn't need the dirty talk, this was a mission. if you wanted a casual friends with benefits, you'd try something online or another in the paddock. fucking max was a certainly that you'd get pregnant. it didn't have to be intimate or soft. it was a means to an end, and you'd get there no matter what.

the sounds of your fucking filled the room as you continued to move against him. you raked your nails down his chest, catching his nipples which made him moan. he was cute on his back, letting you take over. you wondered how deep his affection for you went.

you didn't want the emotional baggage of it all. tonight you were both drunk and having sex in the motor homes. it would be a one night stand before you two finished out the season. you could feel the heat across your back as you stared at him.

his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open as he panted heavily. there was heat in his face and you felt something tug in your chest. he was beautiful, you hated to admit it. but max verstappen was a pretty boy.

he was already blissed out, his noises forced you by the movement of your hips. you licked your lips and without thinking, you left a mark on his collarbone. it was stupid, but it excited your further.

you continued to move against him. your breasts bounced with each move of your hips. you felt moans in the back of your throat and a hum in your soul. pleasure was close and it wasn't long before you really worked yourself onto his cock and finished.

the tightness around his cock made max's back arch a little bit. he could feel the heat in the back of his head. his heart pounded as he watched you continue to ride his cock. he panted heavily and soon climaxed as well. you made sure to get everything you could out. you kissed him once more before you stopped. when you pulled away you got off of his waist and laid down on the bed.

"wow." he said out of breath.

you didn't want to talk. instead you turned your head to kiss him on the lips to keep him quiet. there was no time for mushy romantic bedroom talk. you needed him to fall asleep before you could leave.

you tried to count down the seconds, placing kisses across his heated face. you reminded yourself that there would be some lucky enough to keep him for life.

when you pulled away from his lips after one last kiss, he curled up beside you and right then fell asleep. you stayed awake, when the heat cooled in your body. you hoped your mission was a success. the lust and the alcohol still made its rounds in your body. but you were lucid enough to find your clothes in the dark and slip out of the motor home before morning.

you'd never bring up the event to max, only briefly mentioning it to charles. you'd drive harder after that, in the end you'd secure a world championship. as you kissed the trophy and your country's national anthem played, you were already pregnant with your child.

-

your retirement was a shock to max. you could've easily decorated your home with many trophies over the next few years. but at the end of the 2024 season, you bowed out. you thanked fans and told them that it was a new chapter in your life. and then like that you fell off the face of the earth over the off-season.

max tried to find ways to contact you. where did you go? what happened? why leave at the height of it all? the more he thought about it, the more questions were raised in his head. he asked around the paddock, even going as far as to ask charles where you went. the other drive shrugged and told him that you moved back to your home country with a "little extra luggage". there were no social media posts. nothing. it nagged in the back of his brain for what felt like a lifetime. what happened to ferrari's princess?

it wasn't until almost three years later, max had claimed another world championship. it felt like these days he was riding high. he was still the best. but as he walked into the paddock to train for the upcoming season, he stopped in his tracks. he felt like he was splashed with cold water.

there you were, three years older with a glow to you. you were laughing with charles and lewis, you looked different but in a good way. you were in overalls and a ferrari shirt underneath. you were more curvy than you were when you were driving. and while you were still beautiful like the sun, pulling max in. what made his stomach drop was who was in your arms.

a young boy, with big curious eyes and round cheeks. he held onto you tightly, his small fists in the fabric of your shirt. he seemed curious about the track, but not scared of how big it all felt. while max would've assumed that you got married and had a child as a lot of people did. but that's not what had happened.

max knew right away at the first glance of your son. looking at him was like looking at max's childhood photos. even in features that matched your own, your son carried a lot of max in him. the itch in his brain after you fell off the earth all those years ago came back, this was where you went. the boy looked like him and if he was right about the boy's age then dates lined up. there was no question. max verstappen was your son's father. and when you noticed him staring. you simply smiled and gave him a wink, shifting the boy in your arms and pointing at the me. when your son smiled, max felt something in his gut. looking at you, holding your (his) son, made max feel like he was home. and all those feelings he had been carrying poured back into his head and heart. the same emotions that allowed you to bed him. <3

sequel: love is a kick to the stomach

[scorbleeo]

Book Review: Never Have I Ever: Wanted My Brother's Rival

Never Have I Ever (Book 4) by Willow Dixon

Source: Google Images

“Why is the one person I hate the only guy I can’t stop thinking about?”

West, my older brother’s high school rival. The rich kid who has it all. The guy who disappeared six years ago and destroyed my brother’s life.

I thought West and I were friends. I trusted him, but he showed me I was nothing more to him than a means to an end.

Being twenty and in my last year of college isn’t easy. Neither is being a virgin. I’ve never been normal or felt like I fit in, and I don’t feel what I’m supposed to.

My online job has given me the perfect way to solve my virginity problem, but then the last person I ever wanted to see again shows up on my doorstep. Not only has West learned what I do for a living, he’s essentially my landlord.

I hate him. So why can’t I stay away from him? Why is he the only person I’ve ever felt a connection with, who makes me feel like there’s something in me worth wanting?

Source: Goodreads (2023)

Read This for the Characters

That sub-header can be read both ways, as in both in past and present tense. And as in, I read this book for the characters while also recommending you to read this book for the characters. Going into this fourth book, I already knew I was going to find the storyline mediocre. I am not exactly familiar with Dixon's writing because I only dabbled with the Never Have I Ever series. However, based on what I've received from the books in this series, Dixon's very good at creating extremely lovable characters. As for the plots, they are rather hits or misses.

Never Have I Ever: Wanted my Brother's Rival is my least favourite of the series. The writing felt the worst too. I have always loved Eli, since the first time he appeared in book one and honestly, West is okay, not interesting but not bad too. I was actually enjoying this book in the beginning but somewhere after the auction scene and the conversation regarding the auction between our two main characters, I lost interest and only read to finish the book. The pacing was too fast after that, which is hella weird because I am an advocate for fast paced books. The plot is the biggest problem here, it was so boring. The banter between Eli and West was fun until after that scene I was just talking about. And the conversations, not boring but not interesting as well. In other words, this book was average in everything.

Rating: ★★☆☆☆ (2.5/5)

P.S.: I liked Eli way more when reading about him through the other boys' point of views.

[cllightning81]

Red Bull? Really?

Summary : You're dating the three time world champion that's in a championship battle with your twin brother. However, you haven't told him about the relationship

Pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Norris!Reader

Word Count :

Masterlist Max Verstappen Masterlist Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

You and Lando always had a good relationship. You didn’t have any twin telepathy, but that didn’t mean that neither of you couldn’t tell what was going on with the other. That was why Lando now knew that you were hiding something from him just by your body language. 

You were in a serious relationship with his on track rival where the rivalry was just heating up second by second. How could you come clean about that? It was bound to break your relationship with Lando and Lando’s relationship with Max. 

While all the commentators assumed the races would be what broke their relationship off track, it was about to be you. You had spoken to Max before the summer holidays and decided that before you left to go on holiday with him, you’d confess to Lando. 

Your original idea was just to text Lando from another room in his house while he was streaming so that his reaction couldn’t be too extreme but Max told you not to do that and that he was your brother. He wasn’t going to be too extreme. 

How wrong Max was about to be. Another debate you’d win. 

Lando had just finished streaming and was now coming downstairs to get some food that you’d cooked – in hopes to butter him up – you smiled over at him as you answered a text from Max F about a project you had coming up together. 

“So” Lando said, sitting down on the couch opposite you. You could feel your heart rate starting to rise knowing that you actually had to tell him now. Having previously told him, you needed to talk. 

“You can’t lash out” You started, and he raised his eyes. You really wish you had done it your way and just locked yourself in the bathroom so he couldn’t get near you. 

“That’s not a good start Y/N” You bit your lip, looking over at him briefly 

“So I’m dating someone” You whispered as Lando sat forward a little with a smirk crossing his face 

“Do I know them?” He asked, and you nodded slightly as he raised his eyebrows, getting a little more suspicious now. 

“Look, it was never my intention to hurt you. When we first started seeing each other, it was before anything ever happened. You’ll always be my brother before anything else. Please don’t do anything harsh” You rambled, stopping due to the knock on the door. You quickly took it as your chance to leave the conversation, hoping that Lando and yourself could forget about it. 

Except when you answered the door, your problem was, stood at the other side of the door. You let out a long breath, letting him into the house. 

“Max! I was just about to find out who Y/N is dating. You can join me” Lando hummed as you closed the door, taking a deep breath. You could see the smirk crossing Max’s face 

“Erm yeah Lan I think I’ll finish this conversation when we’re alone” You wandered off to your bedroom despite Lando’s complaints. 

You hadn’t brought up the conversation again to Lando and had quickly avoided any conversation he brought up. 

That was until you were, stood in your own house, Max was, sat on your couch scrolling  through the TV, trying to find something for you both to watch. 

“Kindje” (Baby) Max called as you poked your head through from the kitchen with a smile 

“Yeah?” You asked, walking over to him standing between his legs. 

“Movie or TV show?” He asked, looking up at you as his arms wrapped around your waist

“Let’s go TV show. Movies are long and boring” You answered, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, and he nodded, pressing a kiss back to your lips. Pulling you on top of his body so that you were straddling his lap. Your head resting in the crook of his neck breathing in his scent as one of his hands rubbed circles on your back 

“Still avoiding the conversation with Lando?” He asked, and you nodded 

“You and him keep getting your elbows out on track. I think that would make it worse” You sighed. It would make it worse. Lando and Max were violent on track enough as it was. You couldn’t imagine Lando’s violence if he found out about you and Max. 

“How about we abandon the TV show, go to bed, and just cuddle?” He suggested, and you nodded. 

“That sounds like a plan,” you hummed. Max stood up within one move, one of his hands hooked under you to carry you to the bedroom. Normally, you stayed at Max’s house however, Max decided to come over to your house tonight to surprise you. 

Max settled you on the bed before getting settled in next to you. Your body curling into his as he wrapped his arms around you. The silence was nice. Max’s hand under his shirt that you were now wearing drawing, comforting shapes on your back. 

You were both getting comfortable and about to fall asleep when there was a loud bang followed by someone shouting your name however, it didn’t compute who it was. 

“Y/N. Where are you?” Lando shouted, and that’s when it hit. Lando. You and Max both quickly jumped up as you glanced at Max, shutting the bedroom door as you walked to the living room to avoid Lando walking into the bedroom. 

“Lando it’s late” You complained, and he just shrugged. 

“And? I’ve got exciting news” He shrugged as your rolled your eyes. Lando’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at you from his spot on the couch. 

“What? Is that a red bull shirt?” He asked loudly as you glanced down at the top you were wearing. Shit. Fuck Max for not owning any other shirts. 

“I erm. I borrowed it from Checo and just never gave it back when I spilt coffee down myself that one time” You lied. It was a really obvious lie. The massive 33 on the top gave that away. Lando started to take a couple steps away from you, falling over the couch as he did. You couldn’t help but laugh a little after all he was your brother. Lando glared at you 

“Look Lando. I’ve been trying to tell you. I just didn’t know how. Please don’t be mad” You whispered 

“How long?” He asked quietly 

“About five months” You whispered, looking down as he continued walking towards the door, not saying anything loudly, just shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Lando please” you looked over, and he quickly opened the door and left slamming the door behind himself. 

You sat on the couch, dropping your head into your hands as a pair of hands wrapped around your body. The tears slowly falling down your face as Max’s hand rubbed your arm softly, pulling your body into his 

“It’s okay kindje” He whispered, holding you close despite you trying to push him away “Hey don’t fight me. I’m not going anywhere no matter how much you fight me” You were too distressed to understand what Max was saying. 

You’d hurt your brother. That’s the worst feeling that you’d ever felt in your life. What hurt more is the fact he didn’t even say a word to you. You never expected him to be happy about it, but you expected him to maybe say something to you. 

You didn’t want Max’s comfort. You felt like you didn’t deserve Max’s comfort, not after the harm you just caused your brother. You deserved to feel the harm as well. Siblings never mind twins were meant to harm each other. 

A couple weeks later, at the next Grand Prix, Lando still wasn’t talking to you. You’d phoned him a couple times a day, texted him multiple times a day, and even attempted to show up at his house. Max stepped in after a week also trying to speak to Lando. You’d even went through your family to try and speak to Lando, but he wasn’t having it. 

Now Max had convinced you to come to the Grand Prix just so that you wouldn’t be in the house moping as he had said. And well, in all honesty, his cats were little devils, and they could manage a week or two with a cat sitter.

Max’s hand rested on the small of your back as he spoke to the driver thanking them for driving you to the hotel. As you were about to walk in Max spotted a guy standing just off the side to all the team members and other people turning to you with a sly smile before his hand dropped and he walked over to the guy. Who clearly backed out of just asking Max to sign something, but you liked how even though he was prepared, he still respected the privacy. 

Max soon walked back over his hand, going back to resting on the small of your back as you smiled up at him 

“Ready kindje?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile 

“Think so” You hummed, walking into the hotel with him and up to the room he had been assigned. You were hoping that Lando was going to be here, but deep down, you knew that they had their own hotel sponsor and would probably be staying there, but one could wish. 

Max had also been invited to an event with sponsors, and after a lot of convincing, you decided to go with him. It was better than being stuck in a hotel room alone and there was free food which did work out as a bonus because those savings don’t last long when you refuse to let your boyfriend pay for your things wanting to be independent. 

Now, getting ready in the hotel room for the event, deciding on just a simple dress that matched Max’s suit. Your hair, in the simplest style you could do and make up just simple as well. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to put effort in and more that you just didn’t have any effort. 

Trying to get Lando to talk to you had taken up most of your energy and effort. There was nothing else for you to give, and you needed a break to reset that. Max walked up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist with a smile 

“You look beautiful” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your neck. You turned around in his arms, wrapping your own arms around his neck 

“And you look very handsome” You smiled, looking up at him. 

“Are you almost ready to go? The car is downstairs waiting” He smiled, and you nodded 

“I just need some help putting this necklace on, then I’m all finished” You smiled, holding up the necklace that you were planning on wearing. Lando had bought you it when you both turned 21. It was a matching one with one of his bracelets. 

Max carefully took the necklace out of your hands, and you lifted your hair up. Gently resting the necklace upon your chest before tying the clasp at the back of your neck. You smiled at Max through the mirror, and he couldn’t help but smile back. 

You were still in pain, but you couldn’t deny that Max was making that pain go away day by day. 

A short drive later, you and Max were not at the large ballroom for the event. Filled with sponsors for all ten teams, drivers from all ten teams, along with team principles and other important members of the teams. 

You weren’t even looking for Lando knowing that he’d just ignore you. Instead, you found yourself talking to his teammate and his girlfriend. You and Lily had always gotten along from the second Oscar joined the team, having many things in common. 

“How was your summer break?” You asked Oscar, knowing his plan was to go back to England however you hadn’t seen him since 

“It was nice. Typical British weather, but you know. Couldn’t have asked for a better time” He smiled, turning to look at Lily, who could only smile at her boyfriend “How was yours?” He asked, and you took a deep breath 

“It could have been a lot better” You replied 

You had thought Max was away talking to Cristian and Checo until there was a large hand settling on the small of your back. When you turned your head, Max was smiling down at you 

“You couldn’t have saved me?” He asked, and you shook your head slightly 

“No, unfortunately, I couldn’t have. I thought you were with Checo and Horner” You shrugged, and he shook his head. 

“No. I got dragged into a conversation with the Pirelli guy and some other sponsor” He replied, and you giggled. Leaning back into his warm touch. Max finally looked up to see who you were talking with “Oh hey Oscar” He smiled, and Oscar only nodded his mouth slightly ajar. Lily had a sly smirk on her face that only you picked up on. 

“Are we still on for padel?” Oscar finally asked, allowing the boys to get into their own conversation so Lily could drag you away to the bar. 

“Oh my god! What’s that?” She exclaimed, and you bit your lip 

“The reason Lando’s being such an ass to me” You replied before ordering a drink for both you and Max

“Ah so that’s what his mood is all about” Lily nodded, understandingly as you nodded turning to look at her. She still had that smirk on her face “So” She dragged out as you raised your eyebrows at her 

“So what?” You asked

“So what’s he actually like behind closed doors?” She asked as you leaned your back against the bar with a small smile 

“Lils he’s perfect. Like honestly so perfect” You sighed, looking over to him. It didn’t help that he currently looked very good. Although he always did, that suit was just doing something for him. 

“Wanna share more?” She asked, and you hummed tapping your nose 

“Nope that’s all the information I shall share” You smiled, picking up your drinks before walking back over to Max and Oscar. You spotted Lando talking with a sponsor as you handed Max his gin and tonic. His arm wrapped around you as you leaned into him with a slight smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you 

“Better than your cats” You shrugged, and he faked offence, holding his chest as you giggled 

“They’re menices!” You exclaimed, and he shrugged a little 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true” He smiled, leading you back to the table you were due to be sat at. Pulling out your chair allows you to sit down before sitting down. You turned your head to look at Max as you placed your drink on the table 

“Is he still ignoring you?” He asked, and you nodded slightly, looking over to where Lando was now sitting “Shit. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that” He sighed, resting his hand over yours as you shrugged a little 

“It’s fine. I just wish he’d get over it even just to say hello. He’s still my brother” You sighed, looking up to thank the waitress as she brought over the food for the table you were sitting at. 

Back at the hotel room the alcohol in your system had made you forget about the whole situation with Lando and Max had taken your phone so that you wouldn’t answer any of Lando’s texts now that the alcohol had made him realise what was going on. 

Max had helped you get ready for bed before getting in next to you. Your head rested on his chest as he wrapped one arm around you, the other resting on your waist as he drew shapes on it. 

“It doesn’t matter what Lando thinks as long as you're happy. Please never forget that Schat (darling)” He explained. You nodded along with his words 

“I’d be happier if Lando had anything nice to say” You looked up at him from his chest as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your own

“He’s been texting you but I think you should look at them when you’re a little more sober as much as I know you’d sleep better reading them but I’d rather you have a clear mind reading them” He explained as you looked up at him pulling away from his lips 

“Have you read them?” You asked, and he nodded 

“I did. I figured reading them before you would help me comfort you if needed” He explained 

“You don’t need to explain love. I just wanted to know” You replied, pressing your lips against his. Moving so that you were laying between his legs, your head still on his chest as both his arms wrapped around you, sliding under your shirt, allowing him to draw shapes on your bare back. 

No matter what, Lando ended up saying you were more than happy being wrapped in Max’s arms. Maybe it’s time for Lando to feel what you had felt. 

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[spider-stark]

THE BRIDGE

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

Warnings - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

Word Count - 5.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

When Grover Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident, sent word for each of his bannermen to send forth a handful of their finest House members to a most desolate area of the Whispering Woods, no one thought it wise to object. 

“Lord Grover is an ornery old crow,” your father, Humfrey Bracken huffed as you readied the horses. “But you would do well to earn his respect.” He clamped a hand on your brother’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes as he said, “Whatever he’s planning, I want you to show him that House Bracken stands strong. Understood?” 

Keeping his chin held high, Amos hesitantly mutters, “If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.” 

Even with your back turned, you could feel the weight of your brother’s stare, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. 

Your father shrugged, a disinterested gesture. “Grover said to send our best,” he said, “and when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one's a better shot than her.” 

For the next day-and-a-half, you rode at a distance from the group your father selected—your brother, Amos, and two of your male cousins. And while they laughed and jeered and yapped, you remained stuck in your own thoughts, playing your father’s words on a loop. 

It’s the only compliment he’s ever paid you. The closest he’s ever come to acknowledging you as Bracken. 

You hate him sometimes, you think. For agreeing to peace all those years ago—for sending his only daughter to ward with his rival of all people. He must have known it was futile. Must have known that one girl could never bridge such an ancient chasm. 

He must have known—and yet he sent you anyway, only to call you back years later, tearing you away from the only home you had ever known and leaving you to feel like a stranger in your House. 

Grover said to send our best. 

Are you a Bracken, then? Is blood all that determines a House? 

No one’s a better shot than her. 

But your skill is that of a Blackwood, born under their tutelage. 

Deep within the Woods, a steady mist of rain falls from the sky, leaving your skin uncomfortably damp. In the distance, a low hum of chattering voices signal that the four of you are drawing close to Lord Grover’s camp—and that the other House’s have already arrived. 

Your thoughts shift, wondering who Lord Samwell sent to represent House Blackwood—fearing that you might already know the answer. 

A strange tightness floods your chest, coiling around your lungs. 

It’s been months since you last saw the heir to Raventree Hall. Many, many months—and you can’t help but think any reunion might end in bloodshed with Amos by your side. 

As if he heard his name ring through your mind, your brother slows his horse to gentle trot beside yours, cocking a neatly groomed brow at you. “Tell me, sister—were you always this dour?” He asks, feigning intrigue. “Or did half-a-decade with the Blackwoods simply drain the joy from you?” 

You don’t pry your eyes from the path ahead, refusing to look him in the eye as he continues without waiting for an answer. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised—a mere day with those insipid cravens would have me wishing to swallow my own blade.” Removing a hand from the reins, he pantomimed the act—gripping an invisible hilt and shoving it towards his lips, letting a dramatic choke rip from his throat. 

Riding a bit ahead, your cousins chortle at his jest, shooting amused glances over their shoulders. 

“No need,” you answer without thinking, your tone impassive. “Aly would have an arrow in your eye before the day was up.” 

Your cousins fall silent. 

Amos stiffens, jaw clenched tight. “She could try.” 

You know Black Aly would try if given half the chance—and you have no doubt that she would succeed, too. She was the one who taught you how to string a bow and sharpen arrows, how to aim and never miss. 

When you don’t respond, Amos pulls his horse in closer—as close as he can get without spookings yours. “Look,” he utters, low enough that your cousins can’t overhear, “I don’t know how things were done at Raventree—but you’re home now, and you would do well to remember where your true loyalties lie.” 

Again, you don’t speak. Don’t think, either. 

Amos sighs. “Your blood runs gold, sister. You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that—and don’t bring shame upon our name. Understood?” 

Strange. 

You had seen your own blood before—more times than you can count, actually. Scars mottle your skin like stars in the sky, a reminder of the years spent training and the memories of nights spent with friends who were supposed to be enemies. 

Never once had it looked gold to you.

Only red. 

“I understand–” a pause, a breath, a heartbeat– “brother.” 

Nausea twists your stomach. The familial title curdles on your tongue even as Amos grins at you. There’s nothing affectionate about the gesture—how could there be? He doesn’t know you. Not really. 

Blood or no, you’re little more than strangers to each other—and yet, even so, you can see he’s trying. Trying to know you. 

Ahead, the camp comes into view. Banners hang above tents: white for the Mootons, blue for the Pipers, purple for the Mallisters. 

And red—for House Blackwood. 

Amos gives you one last glance, a pall mimicry of what you believe is meant to be love in his eyes. “You’re home now,” he reminds you again, as if you need to hear it,“be glad for it.” 

With the Tully’s guards now in earshot, Amos doesn’t bother with waiting for a response. He snaps the reins, urging his gelding back to the head of your group, already bellowing his greetings. You watch him go, transfixed on the yellow-gold of his tunic—identical to yours. 

Approaching the guards, you tell yourself that your brother is what home is supposed to look like. That if you were to slice your veins, gold would pour from your wrists. 

Not red. 

After checking in with the guards and tying your mare up in the makeshift paddock, there was no time left to freshen up before you were expected to join Amos and your cousins. With all the Houses now gathered, Lord Grover wasted no time in calling you all to the heart of the camp. 

Still, you try to make yourself presentable—using your fingers to comb through tangled, windswept hair and smoothing the wrinkles from your gold tunic, careful not to disturb the ornate brooch pinned above your heart. 

According to the guards, everyone was given one upon arrival. “All Houses are required to wear them,” they explained when Amos pressed them on it, “Lord Tully’s orders.” 

They were all different, it seemed. Yours was a delicate thing, fashioned from silver and pearls in the image of a blooming dahlia, while Amos’s was clunky and shaped like the sun. He’s still fumbling with it when you finally push through the small crowd, taking your place at his side. 

To your left, separated only by a group of five Frey men, you feel the wary glances being cast your way. You almost turn your head—almost glance back at them, if only to see what they might do. What he would do. 

Would he even acknowledge you? Or simply look away? 

The answer, thankfully, is one you don’t have time to learn. A servant garners attention, dragging a simple, plush chair to the group’s center. Following suit, another two servants assist the aged Lord Paramount from his tent, guiding him into his seat. On his right stands his eldest grandson—and your favorite Tully. Tall and dark-haired, Elmo looks more fearsome than he actually is, sparing you a quick, discreet wink when he spots you. 

“You may all be wondering,” Lord Grover wheezes, his lungs fighting for breath, “why I have called upon you all today—the many great Houses of our land.” 

As he speaks, old, gnarled hands punctuate his words, gesturing out to the many men gathered ‘round. His fingers shake with effort, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his many, many years. But his chin remains high, and his tone commanding—if a touch quavery. 

“I hear rumblings,” he continues, “from the South-East.” 

Lord Grover’s eyes, milky with cataracts, shift in the direction, staring blindly into the towering trees of the Whispering Woods. Beyond them, even. 

“Whispers of a great danger brewing in the Crownlands—within the King’s own court, if rumors are to be trusted.” 

Your spine turns to steel. 

Those rumors, you know, are as true as they come. Over the past several months, they had moved through the realm like a venomous serpent. Slithering from mouth to ear, hissing tales of the two factions that now divide King Viserys’s council. 

The Blacks and the Greens. 

The rightful heir and the first-born son. 

And the very reason your father had called you home. 

“War is coming,” a deep, foreboding warning, “and should it reach the Riverlands, I wish to know that we might stand united in its wrath. That we will not allow petty rivalries–” a pointed glance at your brother, and then to your left where, without looking, you know the Blackwood heir stands–“to tear us apart from within.” 

A heartbeat passes. Then another. 

The forest holds its breath. Cradles the Lord Paramount’s words in the air, weaving them around the many great Houses of the Riverlands. 

You wonder if this is what strength looks like. What it sounds like. 

You fear you already know which side of the war Lord Grover’s strength might fall—and you pray that you’re wrong. 

Placing a firm hand upon his grandfather’s shoulder, Elmo takes a step forward. “In an effort to promote civility between our Houses,” he announces in a tone that demands respect, “we have arranged for a hunt.” 

Your brow furrows. A hunt? 

“You will be divided into two person teams, working with an individual outside of your own House.” His gaze shifts to you, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Teams have already been decided. Upon your arrival, each of you was given a pin—your partner will bear a matching one. And while there will be no winners or losers, you should know that once you leave camp, you will not be permitted to return without a trophy of some kind.” 

Discontent spreads. Low murmurs fill the air. 

Amos voices his frustration louder than the rest.  “And when is this hunt to take place?” 

Elmo grins. “Now.” 

Instantly, murmurs grow to shouts. 

“You cannot be serious, my Lord!” 

“It is already sunset!” 

“Is this a jest?” 

Elmo’s grin never wavers, unphased by the protests—and Lord Grover appears content to let his grandson contend with everyone's bickering, exhausted from what little talking he had already done. 

“Might I suggest you move quickly,” Elmo speaks over the crowd. Glancing upwards, he squints at the black clouds rolling overhead, an amused lilt to his voice as he adds, “Lest you wish to be caught in the coming storm.” 

With no more than a curt nod to the crowd, Elmo turns on his heel, already veering off in the direction of his own tent as servants begin to help Lord Grover rise. 

“This is absurd,” your brother grumbles. 

You ignore him. Storming right past him, you make a beeline for the fleeing Lord. 

“A hunt?!” 

Fond as Elmo is of you, you know better than to shout at the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your voice remains no more than a harsh whisper, even as you shoot daggers into the back of his head. 

“At night, no less! In the middle of a gods-damned storm! Have you lost your mind?” 

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” He chuckles, keeping a steady pace. “Of all people, I thought that you might appreciate the challenge of it all.” 

You stay on his heels. “Who is he?” 

“Who is who?” 

Further from the crowd now, you grow bold. You reach out and snag his arm, forcing him to stop and face you. “Ignorance isn’t a good look on you, Elm.” You grind out, “Swear that you didn’t pick him to be my partner.” 

A wrinkle forms between thick brows, feigning innocence. “What makes you think that I chose your partner?” 

“Because I know you. You’re always scheming—jutting your big nose into places it very well does not belong!” 

Elmo opens his mouth—hesitates—and then frowns. “Am I truly that transparent?” 

“You may as well be made of glass, Elm.” 

His pout deepens, still dancing around your question. “Well, let's say that I did choose your partner—theoretically, of course!” Your eyes roll. “I think you would find my choice to be quite suitable. If anything, you might even thank me-” 

“This isn’t a game, Elmo!” Desperate now, you can’t stop your voice from rising. “If you paired me with him, then Amos will–” 

“Kill him?” Elmo ventures. 

“Yes!’ 

Pursing his lips, Elmo’s gaze falls somewhere over your head. “Well,” he sucks in a breath, “it seems we may be past the point of stopping that from happening.” 

Your mind goes blank, your thoughts scattering like shards of glass. 

You spin on your heel, head whirling around in search of Amos in the throng. Less than a second and you spot him—not because your gaze was drawn to the familiar gold color of your own House, but because of the wall of stark scarlet standing before him. 

Blackwoods. Two of them on either side of the Raventree heir. 

And Benji—his hands pressed to your brother's chest, roughly shoving him back into one of your cousins. 

“Do me a favor,” Elmo's sigh cuts through your panicked haze. “Keep the two of them from plunging a sword in the others’ belly, would you?” 

Any other time and you might have told Elmo off, cursed him for putting you in this position—future Lord Paramount be damned. 

But not now. Not when centuries of rivalry serve as proof that nothing is more dangerous, more unpredictable than this—

A Blackwood and a Bracken—your brother and Benji—standing toe-to-toe. 

Mindless adrenaline is all that thrusts you into motion. Mud splatters up the legs of your trousers as you practically run in their direction, demanding as soon as you’re in ear shot, “What is this?!” 

Amos doesn’t acknowledge you. Neither does Benji. 

Chests-puffed, they remain locked in their foolish staring match, neither of them willing to be the first to back down. 

Finally, one of your cousins sneers, “Seems that Benji-boy here thinks we’re gonna let him take you out into the woods.” 

A sharp, nasty laugh rips from Amos’s throat. “As if I’d let that happen!” 

“We’re partnered for the hunt, you imbecile.” Benji’s tone is that of lethal calm, even as he glares down his nose at your brother. You look to his chest—spotting the silver dahlia pinned at his breast. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Tully.” 

“You think I’m stupid, Blackwood?!” 

Benji’s brow lifts a fraction of an inch, as if silently proclaiming—I just said so, did I not? 

Scowling, Amos juts his finger against Benji’s chest. “I refuse to give a Blackwood an opportunity to defile my sister!” 

Benji’s answering grin is something wicked as he purrs, “Oh, if I wanted to defile your sister, Bracken, I could’ve done so a long time ago.” 

Your pulse pounds—caught somewhere between offense and desire as Benji’s words echo in your head. 

Both feelings fade to fear when Amos reaches for the hilt of his sword, wrenching it from the sheath at his hip. In a blink, more weapons are drawn—your cousins holding swords, the Blackwoods holding daggers. 

Not Benji, though. 

Benji doesn’t flinch, even with your brother's sword poised at his throat, ready to kill. Something flickers in his eyes—a shift that you know all too well, sending ice skittering across your bones. 

“I won’t have this,” Amos seethes. “You will find another partner—or I swear on my House that blood will be shed!” 

Benji leans closer. Let the tip of the blade dig into his flesh, a rivulet of blood rolling down his throat. 

Red. 

“Is that a threat, Bracken?” 

You can hear your brother swallow—feel his panic as if it were your own, as if it was his fear coursing through your veins. Still, his voice remains steady. “Consider it a promise, Blackwood.” 

A blink and steel was glinting before your eyes. A single breath and Amos was out-maneuvered and out-matched—the clash erupting and subsiding in one seamless heartbeat, ending with your brother's sword in Benji’s hand. 

A shuddering breath slips from your brother's lips as Benji presses the steel to his throat, a perfect mirror of the position they were in just moments ago. 

“What’s the matter, Bracken?” Benji croons sarcastically, head hilting. “Do I frighten you?” 

There’s a lull to his voice—an eerie stillness that sends a chill scuttering down your spine. 

Amos was ignorant—to pick a fight with Benji, to think he might actually win it. But he’s your brother, too—and you know that if he were to be slain right now—right here—an even larger chasm will take the place of the one you were once meant to bridge. 

“Stop.” 

The demand is no more than a breath. A soft, terrified sound. 

Yet still, it makes Benji’s focus waver. 

“Leave him.” You force yourself to speak louder. Stronger. “Now.” 

You take a step closer—a hand outstretched, reaching towards Benji. His attention shifts, settling on you. He blinks—his stormy eyes, dark with rage, finally starting to clear. 

Benji’s movements languid as he steps away from your brother. Your cousins rush to Amos’s side as he stumbles back, frantically checking the heir of Stone Hedge for any sign of injury. 

They found none. Not even a scratch upon his throat, where his own sword had just hovered. 

Benji passes you the sword—a silent conversation passing between the two of you. 

You could have killed him, you glare. 

I could have—Benji agrees with a small, self-satisfied smile—but I didn’t. 

One of your cousins, bold and stupid, steps forward. “Is that all it takes to keep you at heel, Blackwood?” He glances between the two of you, his lip curling into a sneer. “A dog and his bitch,” he taunts, “how sweet–” 

A cry rips from his throat, cutting his insult short. You expect it to be Benji, having noticed the way his fists had clenched from the moment your cousin so much as looked at you. And perhaps it would’ve been—if your brother hadn’t grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backwards and shoving him to the muddy ground. 

“Say what you want of him,” Amos tells your cousin, his voice gruff, “but you will mind how you speak of her.” 

You don’t know what to make of that. Of Amos defending you. Of knowing that if he hadn’t, Benji would have. Or that, even after that, Amos doesn’t quite know how to look you in the eyes, looking to the grass and the sky and anything that isn’t you. 

You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that. 

But did he take pride in you? 

If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her. 

“What’s done is done.” With a pointed look towards Lord Grover’s tent off in the distance, you say, “Now is not the time nor the place. If you wish so badly to fight, save it for when the war begins.” 

On one side of you, Benji remains silent, watching you with a curious glint in his eye. On the other, Amos hesitates. 

“I don’t trust him,” he says. 

You wonder if he doesn’t know how to say: I’m worried about you. 

“You heard our father,” you tell him, chin high, “when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one’s a better shot.” 

Perhaps there are things you don’t know how to say, too. Like: But I do. I trust him with my life. Maybe even with yours, too. 

Begrudgingly, Benji meets your brother's gaze, fighting the urge to scowl at him. “For years, no harm befell your sister under my watch—and you have my word that none shall befall her now,” he vows. “I swear it upon the Old Gods.” 

“And the New?” 

You consider stomping on Amos’s foot. 

Ignorant. To continue pushing— 

“Fine.” Benji’s brusque answer takes you by surprise. “Upon your false Gods as well, then.” 

Amos, to his credit, argues no further, only echoing the Raventree heir. “Fine.” 

For a fleeting moment longer, they stand there, eyes locked. Amos is the first to turn—the roaring tension dissipating into a hushed hiss as him and your cousins storm off. Benji stays, even as his own men begin to back off, as if listening to a silent command to go find their own partners. 

You look at him. And he smiles—a shy, awkward thing. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, a barely perceptible pause in his speech. “At the edge of camp—you can find me whenever you’ve gathered your things.” 

You open your mouth to speak, to say something—but the words take root in your chest, leaving vines to crawl up your throat. If you speak, you worry about what might come out. Worry it won’t be as delicate as the dahlia pinned above your heart—above his, too. 

So you close your mouth. Say nothing. Nod—and turn, trying to keep your legs from shaking as you walk back to the makeshift paddock to get what you would need for the hunt. 

True to his word, you find the heir of Raventree at the edge of camp, leaning against a towering oak and using the tip of his dagger to idly pick dirt from his nails. 

You brought only what was necessary—your bow, strapped between your shoulders, and a dark-leather quiver slung over your shoulder, stocked with already-sharpened arrows. 

Light rain mists over your face, the sky groaning with a low rumble of thunder. The forest floor squelches beneath your feet as you trudge towards him. Forever on-guard, Benji wastes no time in pushing himself off the tree, adjusting the dagger in his palm so that it can be easily plunged into another's belly if necessary. 

But then he sees you, dressed in Bracken gold with damp hair sticking to your cheeks, and looses a breath. Relaxing at the sight of you—his rival, according to centuries of precedent. Your rival, too, you suppose. 

Benji doesn’t look like your rival, though. 

Sheathing his dagger at his hip, you see no trace of the lethal Lord who, mere moments ago, was willing to go head-to-head with the heir to Stone Hedge. This boy—stuffing his hands in his pockets, a light flush crawling up his throat—is not Benjicot Blackwood, the heir of Raventree Hall. 

He’s just Benji. 

“Ready to go?” He asks when you’re closer, his voice a familiar caress so unlike the eerie lull it held earlier. 

It takes everything in you to erect an icy wall around your heart, colder even than Northern winds. You shove past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you go and earning a perplexed stare. “Let’s get this over with,” you snap, plunging into the depths of the Woods and leaving him to follow behind. 

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. 

Dusk crept swiftly through the Riverlands, casting a pall shadow over the Whispering Woods. Overhead, dark clouds seem to grow thicker, obscuring what little light the moon has to offer. 

A fool’s errand. An impossible task. 

That is what Elmo Tully had arranged—not a hunt. 

With the sun hidden beyond the horizon and a near-constant rumble of thunder, any animal in these Woods would either be asleep or hiding by now, trying to escape the incoming storm. To find a trophy to bring back to camp—even something as simple as a hare—was unlikely. 

Still, knowing the guards won’t let you back in without one, you keep walking. Keep plunging further into the Woods, praying to the Gods that you might find something to take back to camp. 

Twigs snap a few paces behind you, wet foliage squelching beneath purposefully heavy steps. A low, careless whistle tests your patience. 

With your bow hanging from your hand, you grumble, “You’re being too loud.” 

Benji feigns innocence. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” you hiss through gritted teeth, never slowing your pace. “Be quiet—unless you wish to scare off any game and spend the night sleeping on wet soil.” 

He chuckles—loudly. “Have you looked up lately?” Benji asks. “The sky looks as if it’ll crack open any minute now! Any animal with sense is hiding right now, anyway.” 

True. 

“Then we find one without sense, then.” 

Benji snorts. “The only thing without sense in this forest is Amos Bracken.” 

Without warning, you stop dead in your tracks—leaving Benji to nearly stumble into you. You cast a glare over your shoulder, cold enough that a chill seeps right into his bones. “You’d do well to keep quiet, Benjicot.” 

His lip curls, revealing a flash of slightly crooked teeth. “And since when do you call me Benjicot?” He asks, a ribbon of disbelief lacing his own name. 

Your jaw tenses, a muscle feathering there. 

I don’t know, you think, a pang of uncertainty cracking the ice wall around your heart. 

You reinforce ice with steel—turning fully now so that you’re face-to-face, dropping your bow to the ground by your feet. “I won’t let you speak of him that way,” you say, ignoring his question. “My brother is the heir to Stone Hedge–” 

A bemused laugh cuts through your words. “Oh, he’s your brother now, is he?” 

You speak over him, voice rising. “To insult him is to insult the whole of House Bracken–” 

“Fuck House Bracken,” Benji growls. 

He takes a half-step closer, towering over you with no more than a foot between you. You don’t falter—don’t look away. 

“I am a Bracken."

His head tilts. “Are you? Last I checked, you were practically raised on Blackwood soil.” 

“Perhaps,” you admit. “But my wardship is over–” 

Benji cuts you off. “Tell me, where was your brother all these years, then? Your father?” He doesn’t let you answer. “No more than a brisk-fucking-walk separating you and yet neither one of them cared to visit with the forgotten daughter of Stone Hedge!” 

You’re a Bracken—

“You don’t know them,” you protest weakly, your resolve crumbling. 

—through-and-through. 

“And you do?” He challenges. Another step, his chest inches from yours. Warmth radiates from his body, seeping into yours and melting melting melting. “Why did your father call you home?” 

His words are no more than a breath fanning across your cheek. 

Vulnerability permeates your gaze, bearing an unspoken truth. Because war is coming, you convey with no more than a flicker of your lashes, and fate has already decided my role in it. 

Benji’s lips tighten to a thin line—and you would’ve thought him ashamed of you, if not for the pain glimmering in his stormy-eyes, lined with silver. “Your father,” he utters, “he will declare for Aegon Targaryen—won’t he?” 

You’re a Bracken—

You debate the merits of telling him the truth. Of betraying the plans of your house. 

—Take pride in that. 

“Aegon Targaryen is the King’s true-born son.” You speak, though you know the words are not your own. “To sit the Iron Throne is his birthright.” 

The birthright of a drunken craven. 

The betrayal of a beloved princess. 

Benji blinks. Shakes his head, his tongue darting along his lips. “He called you home to fight. Humfrey Bracken’s forgotten daughter—useful at long last.” 

Rage coils in his tone. Instinct makes your muscles tense. 

Nothing is more dangerous than this, your thoughts whisper, a Blackwood and a Bracken, toe-to-toe. 

There’s nothing dangerous about the way Benji’s looking at you, though. His gaze soft and tender, calloused hands clenched at his sides—holding himself back, you realize. Not from fighting, but from reaching out to touch something he’s not certain is his. 

“Will you do it?” Benji asks, hesitant. “Will you fight for the pretender?” 

I don’t want to, you think. 

It’s your brother's words that slip past your lips. “I have no choice. My blood runs gold, Benji—a Bracken, through-and-through.” 

His brow furrows. Then a hand shifts to the sheath at his hip, sliding his dagger free. “Give me your hand,” he orders, nodding to where they hang at your sides. 

You remember his vow to your brother—that he would let no harm befall you. Even without it, you would’ve trusted him. Wholly. Unconditionally. 

You lift your hand and, without hesitation, he grips it on his own, pinning the steel tip of his dagger against your palm. 

You hiss—hand stinging as the blade drags along your flesh, leaving a thin, shallow cut. 

“You’ve always had one foot on either side of the boundary,” Benji starts, his words rushed. Carelessly tossing the dagger to the ground, he grabs your wrist tightly, lifting your palm up towards your own face. “But your blood,” he tells you, his eyes desperate, “has always run red.” 

It drips down your wrist—a rivulet of crimson, spilling between his knuckles as he refuses to let go. Red as the color of his tunic—as the specks of blood dried on his own throat, drawn by your brother's sword. 

Gold on your back. Red in your veins. 

A Bracken by name, but… 

“It’s not too late,” Benji says, his words slow and cautious, still cradling your hand in his. “You can come back to Raventree.” Thunder rumbles. Storm-cloud eyes fall to your lips. “You can come home.” 

You think of Amos. Of your brother. You’re home now, he had said, a shadow of love in his eyes, Be glad for it. 

But home was ancient stone, crawling with moss. Home was the deep, muddy moat that you always threatened to push Benji into when he was getting on your nerves. Home was Black Aly’s voice, scolding you whenever your arms were still too weak to string a bow. 

Home was a dead weirwood tree and a boy with stormy eyes. 

But duty… 

That was something else entirely. 

Closing your hand around Benji’s, your chest fills with water as the last of the ice melts. Hard steel turns impossibly soft, your feet shuffling until your body is flush against his—still-entwined hands pinned between your chest, trapped between fabrics of gold and red. 

Benji leans down, his forehead pressing against yours. There’s nothing dangerous about him. Nothing unpredictable. 

You know him—from the crook in his nose to the scar above his lip. From the lull of his voice to the weight of his steps. His quick temper and his shy smiles. 

High above, the sky cries out. Thunder booms, lightning cracks. Misty rain turns to a violent downpour. 

And he leans in, oh-so carefully. A trembling breath against slick skin, chapped lips hovering over yours. 

“You can come home,” Benji whispers, repeating himself. You can’t think—can’t breathe, as he utters against your mouth, “Let me take you home.” 

And he kisses you. A tender, desperate kiss—the kind that drives your lips apart with the sheer force of it. He tugs his hand from yours, slips it out from between your bodies and brings it to rest on the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in damp, rain-soaked hair. 

Restraint is no more than a breath in the wind. Desire curls in your stomach. Your pulse pounds in your veins, rich with red red red. 

But then there’s your brother’s voice in your head: I don’t trust him. 

And you know what he meant was: You’re my sister—my blood, red or gold—and I’m worried about you. 

You pull away, breathless and broken, one half of your heart lying on either side of the boundary stones resting miles and miles from here. 

Lips still close enough to brush against yours, Benji pants. “Say yes.” The love in his eyes isn’t a shadow. It’s a bright, blinding light. A proud declaration and a howling plea. “Say you’ll come home.” 

You look down—to the sigil embroidered on your tunic, to the still-drying blood on your palm 

An estranged brother and a forbidden lover. 

And you. 

The bridge to a great chasm. 

The futile remedy to centuries of enmity. 

You take a step back—reaching inside of yourself, pulling shriveled vines up your throat, knowing that the words hammering in your chest will be anything but delicate. That they’ll taste of rot in your mouth. 

“I’m not sure I have a home, Benjicot.” Pain echoes across his face, each syllable a rusted dagger in his heart. Another step back, grabbing your bow from where it laid in the mud, abandoned what feels like a millennia ago. “Not anymore.” 

When you turn to leave, thunder crashing overhead and a sob caught in your throat, you go alone.

The heir to Raventree Hall doesn’t dare to follow. 

You walk in silence, your bow hanging at your side. Behind you, there are no snapping twigs and no low, careless whistling. There’s only rain and—

A branch creaks overhead, halting your steps. Your bow is drawn in a single breath, the cut on your palm stinging as you  slide an arrow from the quiver slung over your shoulder, readying to shoot. You look up, drops of rain splattering against your cheeks as you scan the trees. 

There. 

Perched on a wet, mossy limb was a pair of beady eyes staring down at you. A raven, letting out a low, curious croak. 

A single shot and you could go back to camp. 

A single shot, you tell yourself, and your blood might finally run gold. 

A breath—and then the bow string goes slack. 

You slip the arrow back into the quiver.

a/n - does any of this even make sense? idk, you tell me lmao. overall, just wanted to play around with capturing the confusion that might ensue for a reader who has no clue where their loyalties lie anymore, lost in who they are and who they think they're meant to be--anyways, hopefully the ending makes sense to you because it makes sense in my brain

anyways

benji tag list (so sorry if I missed you!) - @jacaerysgf @lenasvoid @valdezthg @xzydra11 @snixx2088 @lianna75 @kennafild @ghostinvenus @heystaystray @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @a-song-for-ages

[atrwriting]

rivalry — blackwood and bracken arranged marriage au

pt. 1 — bracken!reader x davos blackwood

au where two marriage pacts end the rivalry between the blackwoods and the brackens (i don't care if this has been done before this is my version gbye)

as always, warnings: misogyny, davos is a fucking FREAK, smuuuuut, dirty talk, breeding kink

lmk if u want pt 2 — aeron bracken x blackwood!fem!reader ;)

my fiancé actually loosely edited this for me so if this sucks it's his fault

____

“let’s get this over with.”

you gulped. you had been dreading this moment ever since your father announced there would be a peace treaty between your family, the brackens, and the blackwoods. the ceremony, the feast, and the dancing were not your biggest concern — but your wedding night? nothing could stop your hands from shaking — and your new husband, davos blackwood, surely wouldn’t step forward and aid you in your time of anxiety.

you folded your lip in between your teeth, playing with the exquisite shift that was custom made for this exact night — a night supposed to be consumed by the throws of pleasure and a hopeful future, possibly in the form of an heir. you couldn’t believe the brokering of peace came in the form of a marriage pact — to someone who would never see you as anything but a bracken, his enemy.

two marriage pacts, actually — you married davos blackwood, and your brother, aeron bracken, married davos' sister. two feuding families. bound not just by one marriage pact, but two — because everyone knew that only one marriage would not have been sufficient for peace. not only was he forced to spend his life, or the rest of yours, with a bracken — but his sister? forced to marry a bracken, as well? aeron bracken? of them all?

you could see it on his face — gray with sick. it turned your stomach as well — to realize you were loathed so much.

“i can’t change who i am,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes on the floor. “nor my heritage. i understand you loathe the sight of me, for what it reminds you of — but i can’t change that.”

he didn’t respond. he just undressed with his back turned to you, save for his pants and under shirt. you watched the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as he tugged off the garments, preparing for bed. you couldn’t see his face as he undressed — and you weren’t sure if it was good or bad. good because you could speak boldly — bad because he refused to look at you, and possibly would refuse your request.

“but as your wife... even if it’s the one you didn’t wish for…” you sighed, losing your thoughts and confidence. “i promise to not be a bother to you — the only thing i ask… is…”

he turned towards you then, but not completely. it was like he gave you his attention, but was fully aware of what he withheld from you — even though you were practically baring your soul to him. you weren’t in his head, you couldn’t be sure… but his silence was enough of a signal that he most likely would not understand a woman’s anxiety in a moment like this.

here goes absolutely nothing, you thought. you mustered up whatever courage you had — albeit very little — and continued, “you do not owe me anything — but i… i…”

“spit it out,” he bit.

your mouth fell slightly agape with his tone. it was the way feuding men speak to each other — not a feuding husband and wife. it was like you were stripped of your femininity and your new identity as his wife, and replaced with that of a rival male — causing you to come to the realization that this feud ran so deep that not even two marriage pacts with the hope of inspiring peace would be sufficient.

he would always hate you. always.

he’s going to hate you as if you’re your brother anyway, you thought. might as well have the stones to match.

you clenched your jaw, raising your eyeline. you refused to cower to a man when it wouldn’t make him hate you less — and especially not if it definitely wouldn’t get you what you wanted. you were afraid, and out of options. with a sigh, you responded, “be gentle with me the first time. just the first — that is all i ask.”

you held his gaze then — refusing to look away. he needed to know how desperate you were, to avoid that unfathomable pain as much as possible. you’d look him in the eye, the eye of the enemy of your family for the last few centuries — because otherwise the shame and dishonor was too great, and too heavy for a new wife to bear.

if you weren’t so intent on not seeming weak, you should have looked — actually looked — at your husband. at how broad his shoulders appeared in comparison to his lean waist and hips. his light eyes that seem to pierce you in a way that only a dagger could; sharp, and forever on edge. how he was so handsome that you might done anything to see him smile or laugh… but you couldn’t. wouldn't. you most likely would never get that chance — but you bet that he looked so handsome when he smiled.

but he would never smile for a bracken.

“be gentle with you?” he asked, accusation already in his eyes. his fists were bawled at his sides as he walked towards you. “as if your craven brother would be gentle with my sister?”

“how dare you even insinuate my brother would treat his lady wife with anything but kindness and respect!” you spat, leaning towards him with anger dripping from your pretty lips. “he may not like this situation any more than us — but he would never harm a woman, no matter what family she came from.”

he shook his head, glancing away from you. “you are actually naive enough to believe that?”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “if you’re stupid enough to believe that of him — then why would you want to be the very thing that you hope does not enter your sister’s bed this very same evening? — do you wish to be as despicable as you believe him to be, my lord husband?”

“watch your mouth, wife!” he spat through gritted teeth. “you would do well to mind your craven tongue.”

you mouth fell agape at his words. “my craven tongue, blackwood?” you scoffed at his words, suddenly too angry to be in the room with him. you didn’t want to get this angry — you wanted this to be as peaceful as possible. “i suddenly find myself wanting to leave this room — do enjoy our wedding night by yourself husband. i’m sure you’re well acquainted with your hand —“

you went to push by him, but he grabbed you by the elbow. he refused to let you pass, but you did not press the subject with words or jerking movements of your body. you did not know your husband — only his reputation from the mouths of kin. you did not dare push his anger — not when he could do with you as he pleased in this room, with no consequence outside these walls.

“i have been made very well aware of a bracken’s inability to perform their duty — but you will not stop me from performing mine, wife,” he grit, glaring down at you.

“i asked you to perform it honorably, husband! — if you can’t, then your reputation precedes you,” you spat. “so what will it be? i put the cards in your hands — so deal.”

his nose curled into a snarl, matching the hateful expression on his face. hatred poured from his veins, while you could feel your own resolve slipping away from your face. fear was creeping back in, as boldness only got a woman so far in the bedroom of an angry man. fear, fear, fear. it leaked from every one of your pores like tears, but you fought those. you blinked several times in order to hide what you could. if he saw the fear on your face, his own expression didn’t change.

…unless he knew the fear was always there, and he didn’t care.

“…please,” you whispered, anger still on your face but your voice threatening to break. “just tonight, husband — please.”

“i would never hurt a woman,” he spat, the flames on his face beginning to subside. “only a bracken —“

“i didn’t think you would hurt a woman,” you spoke, trying to soften your voice. “i asked — because others have described this pain as one of the worst. i was afraid, lord husband — but not of you.”

while you intentionally softened your voice, your husband did no such thing. he merely let his anger die with your words, most likely at the fact that you were the one to admit weakness. you were the one to admit vulnerability. you were the one to have to beg. you had won, but at what cost to your pride?

it didn’t matter now. all that mattered was getting this done. quick, done, and over with.

“lie on your back,” was all he said, holding your gaze.

your lips parted as your eyes looked down at the floor. you turned in place, and began walking towards the bed. you laid down on, fighting the urge to twist your fingers together in anxiety. you kept your head forward, but your gaze down and to the side. out of the corner of your eye, you could see your husband walk over to the bed and climb on top of you.

he unlaced his leathers as he spoke, both of you avoiding the other’s eyes. “avoid allowing your muscles to tense up — it will only make it worse.”

you whispered a small “okay,” barely audible.

you opened your legs, lifting up slightly at your hips for him to rest comfortably. he adjusted, before you watched him bring his hand to his mouth. you couldn’t help yourself — you watched as his lips sucked his long fingers past their opening, lubricating the digits. his eyebrows knitted together with the motion, before his fingers found their way between your thighs. you fought the urge to jump or squeal when you felt his warm, wet fingers thread through your folds.

he let out a sigh of discontent before glancing up to your face.

“trust me, alright?” he asked.

you didn’t verbally respond. you simply looked at him with your lips slightly parted, eventually nodding.

that was enough for him. he climbed down the length of your body, settling himself between your legs. he raised the length of your shift up to your stomach, leaving your bare from the abdomen down. in your nervous state, you took it as a cue to slip your dress off. when he saw the cool air hit your naked breasts and harden your nipples into a peak, his own lips parted — and you felt a growing mass harden against your leg.

“you’re beautiful, wife,” he spoke — seemingly without realizing it. you almost thanked him, before he added, “...for a bracken.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, ready to respond — when he dipped below your navel.

you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise — you couldn’t help it.

his tongue licked up and down the length of your slit, and dove in between your folds. you immediately covered your mouth with your hand, all of your muscles going tense. davos had wrapped his arms under your thighs, hoisting them around his shoulders. his tongue was thick and messy against your folds, causing them to glisten in the flames of the nearby fire.

and once his tongue made contact with the pearl at the very top of your slit, you let out an exhale of ease. it was not lost on your husband — who drew a circle around the circumference of the bud. when he noticed you relaxed more, he drew another. when he noticed you fought the urge to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, he drew yet another. he knew what was happening — but he wasn’t sure if you did.

when you began to fist the sheets with your one free hand, he didn’t stop drawing.

he locked his head in between your thighs with them thrown over his shoulders. your cunt was dripping juices from your sweet, untouched hole — and davos found himself ashamed to admit that he lost himself in the act. for a moment, he couldn’t help but forget the name of the girl above him — the one taking everything he gave her, and acting so grateful with the way she couldn’t stay still.

but after that moment… he could’ve ripped away and plunged into you, making the act become done and over quicker. he could’ve… but he found himself enjoying it.

he continued to draw those circles — those small, tiny, wet circles that sent you in a haze — as he slipped a finger inside your cunt. and then two. he was greedy for your reaction. he was greedy for the way he knew, he fucking knew, that you had never experienced pleasure like this — not by you or anyone else. him, a blackwood, would be the one to make you feel so good you would forget your name and house for even the smallest moment — even the smallest moment would be a win for his pride and for his house.

a small part of him hoped you’d feel shame at the fact he’d make you succumb to the throws of pleasure... but a larger part of him wanted to make you feel so good that you allegiance to your house wavered. ...but when he began to suck on your clit, sounds filling the room — he knew it would be both.

from below, he watched you shove the side of your face into the pillow and pull at its threads. your hips began to ride against his face, coating his chin with everything you could give him. he held you down the best he could — bratty little thing you were, but it was difficult as he also wanted you to lose control. he watched as you tried to bite your lip, harder and harder and harder — before you gave up. you left out a sob into the pillow, legs still shaking, and davos kissed your clit.

when davos crawled back up to meet you, every nerve ending had pins and needles. you were warm from head to toe — no longer in need of the fire, your shift, or any blanket. you were shivering, but not from the cold — but from the comedown, a stranger to passion and lust and pleasure. all three twirled around in your womb like a fire that had never been lit; a treasure to be discovered — only by davos.

“can i kiss you?” you asked before thinking it through.

davos had a look of being caught off guard. he wasn’t expecting you to ask, and you saw it flash on his face. you suddenly grew worried —

he didn’t let you finish your thought. davos leaned forward and kissed you.

he kissed you in the way you would expect a boy you love to kiss you — sweet, gentle, but with a growing passion that could only be shared in the bedroom. he held his weight with one of his strong arms, the other tucked behind the back of your knee. he pulled your knee to his hip and you wrapped both legs around his hips. you pulled him into you and felt the skin of his pelvis brush against your cunt.

“you’re so sweet,” you spoke against his lips. with obvious sarcasm, you added, “...for a blackwood.”

he laughed then. “you’re obedient for a bracken.”

you flicked his stomach, causing him to yelp — but you didn’t let him pull away for long. with both hands, you pulled him back to meet your lips. it hadn't even crossed your mind to ask him to wipe his mouth, for you did not want to. the old gods and the new would surely curse you for such lust filled thoughts — but you didn't care. how could you care when you had found a way to bring peace between a blackwood and a bracken, even if it was temporary? how could you care when you sharing one of the most holy of relationships, being the intimacy between husband and wife? how could you care when this night was going better than you could have hoped?

you could sense him bring his own hand down to his large member, feeling his forearm brush your thigh as he fisted his length. as much as you wanted to reach out and pleasure him — you were worried for what came next. the pain. the inevitable.

davos lined up the red tip of his cock with your tight hole, barely stretched out by his fingers. he slid his cock up and down the length of your slit with the intent of collecting as much of your juices as possible. with a slight push, he entered you.

you immediately let your head fall onto the pillow as the stretch began to burn. the pain on your face was evident, and davos guided his hand to draw circles on your clit once more. your muscles loosened, welcoming the pleasure that davos brought you.

“please,” you gasped, flicking your eyes up to him.

he stared at your face with an intense look of study. with his eyebrows knitted together, he brought one of your legs over his lower back and held you by the back of your thigh. the stretch was felt in the length of your cunt, as it stretched to fill his size.

davos was concerned for your well-being, of course, but something was beginning to curl in his lower abdomen. he wanted to take your by force — prying your legs open, holding your thighs in place, and drilling his cock into your swollen, dripping cunt. he wanted you to moan his name in his ear and pull at his hair or scratch his back — but he couldn’t, not yet. not just yet. not when you were you worried before, especially now that your attitude had been lost.

he had half a mind to point that out — lest that return.

“keep going,” you spoke.

“what if —“

“i’ll tell you to stop if it hurts,” you interrupted. “it’s all felt so good — i don’t want it to stop.”

he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is my wife claiming to know more than her lord husband?”

you squinted your eyes at him, ready to bite back. “i’ll have you know —“

but he didn’t wait for you to finish.

he leaned forward, placing both forearms on the side of your head. you could feel his lips against your earlobe, causing a quick intake of breath to overtake you. as he leaned forward to your ear, his hips leaned forward as well. his large cock was fully buried inside you now, rocking back and forth as it hit a spot so deep inside you that you didn’t know how he was able to fit. it felt like it was right behind your tiny pearl, which was being nudged by your husband’s pelvic bone. the combination was driving you crazy, only nonsense poured from your pretty lips…

“you’ll take what i give you, my pretty bracken wife,” he spat. “or should i say, blackwood, hmm? no longer craven?”

you wanted to bite back. you wanted to slap him. you wanted to push him from between you and make him finished himself off — but you couldn’t. you couldn’t fight your hips as they raised to meet his own, holding still as he pounded into your pretty cunt.

“a cock made you forget where your loyalties lie?” he questioned with a scoff, but never forgetting to smirk. “that’s all you need, wife? no one’s ever made you feel like this before?”

“you fucking —“

“say it,” he spat, almost growling against your lobe. his hips were snapping against yours as your cunt milked his cock, hoping for the spend that would seal the accomplishment of the marital duty. you were almost in tears from the frustration and the pleasure — not sure how to channel it, not sure what to do with it. “say it!”

“no one, davos,” you cried into the open air above you. “only you, only…”

his hands were tangled through your hair now, keeping your head upright as he sucked on your neck. little nips and bites sent shockwaves throughout your body, and your hips began to stir in the familiar way they had moments prior. davos’ weight held you perfectly still and taut, subjecting you to the pleasure his cock brought in the most perfect way.

“bet you can’t stand that you’re buried in a bracken right now,” you bit, almost succumbing to tears. “— can’t stand that only my womb will give you an heir —“

he yanked on your hair then, extending your neck so you were at his mercy. a strangled gasp left your mouth as you clung to him, which surprised you. you once asked for gentleness, kindness, sweetness… but if you had known how good this would feel… you wouldn’t have even bothered. you would’ve pushed and pulled him all night — subjecting him to the same insults that he hurled towards you if it meant he would fuck you this good.

“and i’ll coat your womb in everything i have, wife,” he growled, pushing his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. “everything i have — until you’re full of blackwood seed. until there's blackwood in your veins. a full blackwood honorable enough to give me a blackwood heir.”

“i’ll never be —“

you couldn’t finish your sentence. the combination between his large cock taking you and his skilled fingers working you… it was all too much. you couldn’t handle the pleasure and the bittersweetness of his attitude, as you were already so close to your peak and losing to him. you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as spreading throughout your womb… ready for him…

“davos, please — “ you cried. “i’m so close. please don’t stop…”

“tell me you’re a blackwood,” he spat. “say it — or i’ll stop.”

“you wouldn’t —“

“i would dare, lady blackwood,” he spat, interrupting you. “now tell me who you belong to — or i’ll leave you unsatisfied with this pretty cunt dripping.”

he immediately began to slow down his hips, and you felt his fingers begin to slow as well. you tried to fight the incessant need to have him continue, but it proved difficult. soon, frustration replaced pleasure. anger replaced lust. need replaced pride.

“i’m yours, lord blackwood — !” you cried, pulling his hips back into yours. “please —“

he didn’t let you finish. immediately, his lips were on yours. he tangled your tongue with his until you could feel it down your throat. his tongue, his fingers, and his cock — they filled you whole, leaving you wanting for nothing. he held you to still so tight that all you could do was whatever he wanted. his own hips were thrusting against yours — chasing his own pleasure while you unraveled like pretty thread.

“this tight, perfect cunt…” he growled. “so many little blackwood heirs will bless this womb… seven hells…”

he kissed you once more, and you felt something break inside you. your head threw itself back against the pillow as every muscle in your body tightened and stood still. a sob left your mouth, incoherent — but when davos heard it, heard it crying for him and only for him, he broke as well. the heat and passion between two sworn enemies threw you both into climax that neither of you had ever experienced before. you pulled at his hair, while he bit down on your shoulder. and there was your bond — sealed in pain, pleasure, and blood.

when your peak had cooled, you found yourself clinging to your new husband as he still laid on top of you. he was breathing heavily, having expended much energy and couldn’t bring himself to leave your warm embrace. you began to scratch his back, hoping to relax him and get him to stay on top of you…

“that feels good,” he grunted from his spot in your neck. “are you sure i was once to hate you, wife? i find myself unable to remember why our families hate each other at this moment.”

you giggled. “we might not be able to help them… but i don’t see why it must carry into our union.”

“oh, wife…” he spoke, kissing your neck once more. “if our fights always lead to that — i believe our union will be forever blessed.”

____

lmk what you guys think!! who's ready for pt 2 w aeron?? - L xo

[illyrianbitch]

Words of Affirmation

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: Even the Lord of Bloodshed gets insecure sometimes. As his mate, you always know the right words to say.

Warnings: established relationship fluff :)

Word Count: 2.3k

just a quick sweet fluffy piece to make up for all my angst. dedicated to the one and only @sarawritestories

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian would never admit it, but the assumptions of his intelligence bothered him. He was always a brute, a mindless warrior, a soldier— nothing more. He knew, deep down, that his brothers rivaled him in all matters of the mind. They were more collected, more capable with familial matters and court affairs. Simply put, they were smarter. 

And he had accepted that— at least, he told himself he had. After all, he was talented where it mattered. He was a good male, a good friend, a good brother, a good commander— and amazing in bed. So truly, it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did when his meeting with Eris went sour. 

Cassian entered the room with heavy steps, a frown on his face as he began to peel off his coat, each movement slow and heavy with frustration. A part of him hoped that he could shed more than just the layer of clothing, hoped that coming home would rid him of the insecurity that had threaded itself through his ribs.

You observed him quietly, taking in the way his muscles tensed and released with each motion, the subtle clenching of his jaw, the deep exhale. He hadn’t looked at you yet, hadn’t made his classic entrance. On most days, Cass would return home with a huge grin, door thrown wide open as he bellowed out your name with a burning heart.

But he was quiet today. And you knew exactly why– you could feel it through the bond. Cassian was sad. 

Your footsteps were quiet against the wood floors as you slowly walked towards him. 

“Things didn’t go well?” 

Your voice was soft and gentle and the sound of it sent a ripple of relief through his body. Still, he felt heavy. Tired. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally discarded his coat onto a nearby chair. “I don’t know how Rhysand does it.”

“Does what?” 

“This whole diplomacy thing, even Azriel. I just… I couldn’t. I'm too stupid for it. Just an idiot.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a heaviness settling on the glowing bond in your chest. You wanted to console him, to fight and kill whatever it was that was unsettling him so deeply. But the thing that was causing Cassian pain wasn’t anything you could fight yourself. It was his own mind, the insecurities he was too afraid to acknowledge. 

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he waved you off with a frustrated gesture.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, his tone heavy with defeat, “I’m just whining. I’ll get over it.”

You frowned, letting out a small breath. 

“No, don’t say that,” you said gently, taking a step closer to him. “You’re allowed to be frustrated. But you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed.

“I’m not?” 

You took in the sight of your mate for a moment, took in his long hair and brown eyes, took in the stubble on his jaw and the way he let out a small breath. You extended your hand to him, voice low as you murmured, “C’mere, honey.”

He hesitated for a moment before he gently took your hand and closed the distance between you, large arms wrapping around your waist as he looked down at you. 

“You are a big ole’ dummy,” you teased lightly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you put your hands around his neck. You felt Cassian melt into your touch ever so slightly, eyes shuttering closed as a small hum left his lips. “But you are brilliant. Like really fucking smart.”

Cassian’s eyes opened to meet yours, somewhat narrowed in skepticality. You rubbed the nape of his neck with your thumbs. 

“I mean, you’re a war general. You’ve commanded hundreds of soldiers, have won countless battles– wars, even. You couldn’t get away with those things as an idiot.”

Cassian grumbled, but you caught the hint of a smile dancing in his stormy eyes, felt the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. A wry chuckle bubbled up from deep within him as he shook his head, his lips quirking up in a brief smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that one, we have Beron and Tam-”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Would you just let me compliment you?” You interrupted with a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows raised as you looked at him. 

A soft chuckle escaped him. “My bad.”

“You are so incredibly smart,” you repeated earnestly, slightly pulling him down and urging him to place his forehead against yours. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze heavy as he searched for something in your eyes. He seemed to find it as he gave you a small smile. “You really think so?”

You pulled yourself back gently, dropping your hands from his neck to take his in your own. Then, you gently guided one hand to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

“Does it feel like I’m lying?” you asked softly.

Cassian’s expression softened as his gaze flickered to where your hand held his. You watched as a glow of warmth lit up his eyes. 

“No,” he said quietly, “It does not.”

And then he was bringing his hands to hold your face, leaning in to kiss you tenderly, his lips a gentle caress against yours.

He wasn’t sure if he believed it yet, if he was comfortable enough with considering himself to be smart, let alone brilliant. But you, his beautiful mate, the love of his life— you thought he was smart, you thought he was brilliant.

And truly, that's all that mattered to him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn’t that he was insecure about his looks, no, that wasn't it. 

Cassian knew he was attractive, knew that he was hot and ruggedly handsome. He knew from the looks that he got from females and males alike, from the scent changes that he caused, and the lovers he had bedded. 

But sometimes, when standing next to Rhysand and Azriel,  Cassian would catch himself wondering if he was rough around the edges in ways that his brothers were smoother, more appealing. After all, they were the two more classically pretty males, the more softly attractive and very often audibly complimented. 

And then there was him, the rough warrior. 

Attractive, yes, but pretty? Elegant? Those were never words used to describe him. 

There was a soft glow in your room tonight, gentle shadows casted across the bed from flickering fae light. Cassian let out a deep sigh as he prepared to climb into bed, his muscles aching and head heavy as he shed the remenands of his day. 

You watched him with a tender gaze as you lay on the bed. The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of your lips as your eyes traced the lines of his face. Cass caught your gaze with his own, a warm hearty brown that made your heart flutter. 

A playful smirk tugged at his lips as he noticed your lingering stare. "You like what you see, sweetheart?" 

You grinned, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you tilted your head. "Always.”

With a grin of his own, Cassian began to crawl towards you. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he closed the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Admiring how absolutely handsome I am?” he said, “How Incredibly sexy?" 

You let out a small laugh as he reached your face, his body hovering over yours. With a gentle hand, you pushed back his tousled hair, your touch feather-light against his skin. A soft sigh escaped him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the warmth of your touch. His lips wore a content smile. 

"So beautiful," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you traced the contours of his face with your fingertips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes scanned your face. You ran your finger along the crease that they created. "Beautiful?" 

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Yes, beautiful. Maybe I don't tell you enough."

He chuckled softly as he leaned into your touch, heart swelling with warmth at your words. There was a new flutter in his chest that he didn’t recognize. For a moment, Cassian felt shy— he wasn’t quite sure why. But he laughed it off all the same. 

"That's a word reserved for you, sweetheart." 

You shook your head, your fingers trailing down his cheek to cup his face in your hands. "My beautiful mate,” you whispered, "My handsome, gorgeous, incredibly sexy, and beautiful mate." 

For the first time in a while, Cass was stunned, unable to respond as quickly as he was used to. Your words held a certain reverence to them, a sincerity that made him melt into your touch— made him melt into your voice itself. Before you, Cassian never knew himself as something gentle, as something capable of softness and sensitivity. But here he was before you, in all of his warrior glory, feeling like a child with a playground crush. And there you were, staring at him like he was the most exquisite thing you’d ever laid eyes on. So when words failed him, Cassian did the only thing he saw fit. 

He leaned in to kiss you tenderly, bringing his lips to yours softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in closer, feeling his warmth against you as he smiled into the kiss. From deep within your chest, you felt a glow— a deep, ethereal, and overwhelming glow. 

Beautiful, his mind echoed, beautiful. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You let out a soft sigh as you settled onto the couch with Cassian, pushing yourself further into his warm chest as he wrapped an arm around you. You’d spent the night at the River House, drinking more wine than you could handle and eating almost all of Elain's sweet desserts. There was a smile on your face as your eyes closed, your hearing quickly tuning into the heartbeat of your mate below you. 

You frowned when the sound began to quicken, echoing like a drum in your ears. You pushed yourself up, slightly turning your body and placing a hand on Cassian's chest. When you looked up at him, his face was scrunched, his gaze distant as if lost in contemplation.

Cassian wore a specific face when he was troubled, furrowed brows and a downturn of his lips. He wore it was he was sad or frustrated, when he had thoughts that plagued him at night. The face before you was a troubled one, indeed. But it was less rough than the others he bore, more vulnerable.

You slightly tapped against him with your palm. Cassian blinked at the sensation, then he slowly looked down to meet your eyes with his own. You let your chin fall gently on his chest. 

“What's wrong?”

Cassian managed a smile, shaking his head as he brought his hand to run over your hair. “Nothing.”

You frowned. “Tell me.”

For a moment, Cassian’s thoughts traveled again. Mor’s laugh echoed in his mind, wine glass in hand as she pointed at him. You have the subtlety of a war horn. You’re so loud I can hear you across Prythian. I don’t know how Y/n handles it all the time.

"Am I too loud?" 

His voice came out rushed, drenched in a tinge of what you could only describe as worry— even doubt.

A flicker of surprise passed through your features. “What?”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Mor said something tonight, it just got me thinking.”

“Mor says a lot of things. Especially when she's drunk.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement, tongue running across his teeth before he let out another sigh. “But she had a point tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”

He took a moment to take you in, to trace the features of your face with his eyes. Absentmindedly, he ran his hands through your hair. 

“Maybe I am too loud.”

Cassian's voice was defeated now, lips naturally falling into a frown. The crease between his eyebrows was still there as he peered down at you, hand still caressing your head.

You stared at him for a moment before you responded. "You're so loud." 

A flicker of disappointment crossed Cassian's face. But before the thought could spread through his mind, a soft smile graced your features. You gave his chest a small kiss. “But I love it. So very much.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up, a sense of release evident in his features as his lips curved into a smile. The crease between his eyebrows faded. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you affirmed, your voice filled with a sincerity that made his heart flutter. "My world would be too quiet without you."

Cassian’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently swiping loose strands away from your forehead. “Yeah?” 

You nodded against him, chin still resting on his chest. “I hear everything I love in your voice.”

He smiled, the bond deep within him singing as he stared at you. He felt you tug at it, felt a roll of warmth run through his body— something gentle, something loving. And for a minute, Cassian could have cried at the sensation, could have cried at the way you looked at him, at how happy he felt. 

With his heart swelling, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice filled with a depth of emotion that he couldn’t quite express in words. He hoped that you could sense it, that you would hear those words and know everything he was trying to say— that you would understand just how much you meant to him, how your love filled him with a sense of peace and belonging he never knew he needed.

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, feeling his now steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know,” you said, “You practically scream it from the heavens.”

Cassian let out a deep laugh, the sound reverberating through his chest. You felt his body move from under you, felt as the sound caressed you like a pair of warm hands. 

As his laughter subsided, Cassian pulled you closer to him. “I’ll keep shouting it so you’ll always hear it,” he whispered.

A warmth spread through you at his words, a feeling of love so strong it was tangible through that sacred tie that connected you.

“And I’ll keep listening.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me not writing angst?? (i’m about to write the most gut wrenching pieces ever) unheard of. but we love a sweet established relationship <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

[elllisaaa]

KINKTOBER 2024

welcome to eli's kinktober masterlist !

-> author's note : i'm so so happy to be able to present you this ! i originally wanted to participate last year, but i've got caught up with the no nut november serie and i didn't have the time to do both. it was hard to choose which members from which groups to write, and i tried to keep it even in terms of how many times i write each group. i'm very proud of myself for getting through this and i hope you'll like it as much as i enjoyed writting this <3 take care !

-> reblogs and feebacks are appreciated !

-> english is not my first language, sorry for any mistake

-> 18+ content below, minors DNI

______________________________________________________________

_ DAY 01 | BIG DICK + SMOKING W. ROCKSTAR!GUNIL

you were a groupie, and you weren't afraid of admitting it. and you didn't mind that you probably were just one of the girls, that gunil had surely fucked hundreds of fans at this same exact spot. because it felt good, and you didn't want him to stop.

-> ONE OF THE GIRLS

______________________________________________________________

_ DAY 02 | VOICE KINK W. IDOL!YEOSANG x MANAGER!READER

going through your ovulation week when you were a manager for ateez was hard enough to not have to deal with yeosang deep voice too. it did things to you, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to keep all of this professional.

-> MAKE IT BOUNCY

_ DAY 03 | VOYEURISM W. BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER!HUENING KAI

yeonjun had always made it clear to you that his friends were off limits for you, it was his only rule. and it never bothered you until kai started to come over. he was exactaly your type, but you didn't want to break the promise you made to your brother. however, is it really your fault if your door is left ajar as you're touching yourself at night ? and is it really your fault if kai walks by your room at the same time ?

-> EYES ON ME

_ DAY 04 | PRAISE KINK + MARKING W. TEACHER!JAY

after you did a successful presentation for jay's class, he feels the need to reward his favourite student in a very inapropriate way.

-> EARNED IT

_ DAY 05 | BREEDING W. SUGAR DADDY!CHAN

you've been nothing but a good girl to him lately, even watching over his niece when his sister visited him by surprise. and it awakened an urge in him. maybe your relationship is more than what chan pretends it is.

-> CONNECTED

_ DAY 06 | BUKKAKE W. XDH x STYLIST!READER

the dirty secret you've been hiding for a few months now is suddenly harder to keep for yourself when the other members catch you sucking off seungmin backstage. and after having discussed it, they decide that they have to get back at you for fucking each one of them sneakily.

-> HER

_ DAY 07 | ORAL FIXATION W. FRIEND!JIHOON

one of the first thing jihoon noticed about you was that you always needed to have something in your mouth - be that candies, cigarettes or joints, lollipops... he just didn't think that your obsession extended to him and his fingers too.

-> SUGARCOAT

_ DAY 08 | EDGING + HANDCUFFS W. JEALOUS FUCK BUDDY!SEUNGMIN

when seungmin catches you flirting with another guy at a bar, he gets possessive even if he has no right to be. you deserve to be punished for making him feel like that.

-> OBSESSION

_ DAY 09 | PREMATURE EJACULATION + FEET W. ASSISTANT!JAKE x CEO!READER

jake is the best assistant you've ever had, and to top it all, he's really cute. you know he has a crush on you, everyone knows it, and that makes him even more adorable. so when you have to leave for an important conference with him and that the hotel room only has one bed, you take it upon yourself to give him what he wants.

-> DANGEROUS WOMAN

_ DAY 10 | LINGERIE + HAIR PULLING W. BARISTA!SAN

you kinda like the barista who's always serving you, but you wish he would notice that you're flirting with him sometimes. so maybe that flashing him your pretty lingerie would help ?

-> FREAK

_ DAY 11 | HATE SEX W. ACADEMIC RIVAL!BEOMGYU

surely, everyone on campus knows how much you and beomgyu hate each other. but being locked in the library one evening because you both stayed too late studying forces you to communicate, for the better or for the worse.

-> ARE YOU DUMB, DUMB, DUMB ?

_ DAY 12 | BONDAGE + MIRRORS W. PHOTOGRAPHER!WONWOO

you wanted to be more confident about your body and having a boudoir photoshoot seemed to be a good option. you just didn't plan that having the photographer tying you up would excite you that much.

-> FOCUS ON ME

_ DAY 13 | CREAMPIE W. BF!JISEOK

jiseok thinks you're really cute when you're desperate for his attention, so he lets you sit on his cock even if all his friends are right there. he simply forgot that you were never the first one to back down.

-> IN FOR A RIDE

_ DAY 14 | AGE DIFFERENCE W. POLICE OFFICER!SEUNGCHEOL

"everybody knows that i'm a good girl, officer" is what you said to him when you got arrested for selling drugs. and despite seungcheol having a wife and kids, he can't help stumbling over his words when you ask to suck his cock in exchange for letting you go.

-> MR. POLICEMAN

_ DAY 15 | MULTIPLE ORGASMS + FEMDOM W. LOSER!HAN JISUNG

you always liked your men weak and pathetic, so no one was shocked to hear that you had a crush on han jisung - the nerdy boy of your physics class. being paired up with him for a project was the perfect opportunity to have him all for you. except that finding a collection of dairies filled with all the fantasises he has about you wasn't part of your plan.

-> SECRET SECRET

_ DAY 16 | PAIN PLAY W. BRATTY!WOOYOUNG x PRODUCER!READER

you need to work on the new track you're helping hongjoong produce for ateez, but wooyoung can't seem to be able to concentrate. though, you slowly notice that he loves it a little too much when you're mean to him.

-> USE ME

_ DAY 17 | ROUGH + LOUD SEX W. SOOBIN

it has not been long since you started dating soobin, and every intimate moment you had until then has been cut short. frustration starts to grow on the two of you and when he finally has the opportunity to have you all to himself, soobin doesn't hold back.

-> BE YOUR LOVE

_ DAY 18 | DACRYPHILIA + SPANKING W. RICH!SUNGHOON x BOOKWORM!READER

sunghoon is gentle enough to indulge in your book addiction. what he cannot bear is when you're ignoring him to read and fawn over some guy who doesn't even exist. he spoils you so it's only fair he takes what he wants from your body as a reward for being such a good boyfriend.

-> CRY FOR ME

_ DAY 19 | OMORASHI + SPIT W. LEE CHAN

after having taken you out a on a bunch of dates, you got comfortable enough to invite chan to come have a last drink at your apartment after a night out. chan really needs to go to the bathroom, but he doesn't want to cut off the conversation flowding fludily between the two of you, especially not when he had been meaning to ask you out for ages. so he stays here and tries to not think about his growing need to pee, even if it might lead to an accident.

-> NOT EASY FOR YOU

_ DAY 20 | COLLAR/LEASH + JEALOUSY W. BF!OH SEUNGMIN

despite you wearing the collar seungmin bought you, some guy still had the nerves to try and hit on you. your boyfriend had to do something, and to remind you that no one could ever treat you as good as he could.

-> HANDS ON YOUR KNEES [TBD]

_ DAY 21 | QUIROPHILIA W. SURGEON!YUNHO x SURGEON!READER

working with yunho was both a blessing and a curse. a blessing because he was incredibly talented and smart. a curse because you had to look at his pretty hands all day long and it was very, very distracting. so when you spend the night trying to come up with a diagnostic for a patient, doing exams in the labo all night with him, you cannot hide your attraction anymore.

-> UNDER THE INFLUENCE [TBD]

_ DAY 22 | APHRODISIACS + GROUP SEX W. ENHA HYUNG LINE

to celebrate the release of the new album of your friends, you decided to make them some cocktails. exept that they don't taste like they usually do, and when the fifth of you start to feel hot and bothered, you definitely understand that someone put something in your drinks.

-> FEELING GOOD [TBD]

_ DAY 23 | SEXTING W. BFF!YEONJUN

when your best friend receives a nude from you on a random tuesday, he feels the need to seek some clarification, and maybe that it is his chance to finally fuck you like he's been wanting to for years.

-> OOPS [TBD]

_ DAY 24 | MUTUAL MASTURBATION W. BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER!JEONGIN

you always had a soft spot for your best friend's little brother, maybe a little crush if you were honest. however, learning that he was still a virgin despite being this hot, you take it into your own hands to show him how it should be done.

-> SHAMELESS [TBD]

_ DAY 25 | OVERSTIMULATION + SEX WORK W. RICH!HEESEUNG x STRIPPER!READER

when a client offers a generous amount of bills to get a private show from you, you have no other choice but to say yes. after all, you need that money and the guy is handsome, you couldn't ask for more.

-> BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK [TBD]

_ DAY 26 | THREESOME + BATHING W. BFF!SEOKMIN & HOSHI

your parents are away all summer, and you take it upon yourself to invite your two best friends to spend it with you in their big villa. however, seeing you walking around in skimpy bikinis is starting to feel frustrating for soonyoung, and when he shares his misery to seokmin, they decide to act on it. the jacuzzi seems like a perfect excuse to finally get you all for themselves.

-> SOAKED [TBD]

_ DAY 27 | BITING W. IDOL!SEONGHWA

you never knew about your boyfriend biting kink until wooyoung revealed it in one of their videos. quickly, an idea emerges in your mind and you decide to make his fantasy come true.

-> SUPER FREAKY BOY [TBD]

_ DAY 28 | FREE USE W. MINHO FT. HYUNJIN

you really liked it when hyunjin came over to spend some time with your boyfriend, but today wasn't the good time because minho was needy. but luckily for him, you only want to satisfy him, no matter if hyunjin is still here.

-> SUCH A WHORE [TBD]

_ DAY 29 | CHOKING + HUMILIATION W. GYM TRAINER!TAEHYUN

today, you don't seem to be able to focus and your trainer is not having it, at all. but the effect his harsh words have on you are not what he imagined. but is it really a crime when you look this good in your gym clothes.

-> MASK OFF [TBD]

_ DAY 30 | SCENT KINK W. PERVY ROOMMATE!JUNHAN

you only see junhan as your roommate, and he knows it. you made it very clear by fucking with some guy when he's next door. but still, junhan cannot help his attraction to you, he cannot help sniffing your dirty panties and too bad that he didn't hid very well the last pair he stole, still covered in his cum. maybe that he picked your interest in the end.

-> I'LL MAKE YOU LOVE ME [TBD]

_ DAY 31 | SIZE KINK W. PIRATE!YUNHO & MINGI

being the captain of a boat with only men on board is sometimes tiring, but luckily, your two wingman are always willing to help, in more ways than one.

-> BIG BOY [TBD]

[riririnnnn]

More random things in Blue Lock I find endearing:

-> Brothers

LOOK AT THE HAND PLACEMENT OF SAE. JUST LOOK AT IT. LOOK. AT. IT. OHMYGOD I'M GONNA CRY.

Oh god.

It's tough to explain, but to see him supporting Rin's arm instead of the trophy makes me want to punch a wall. It feels like, "Yes, we won this together, Rin." OHMYGOD! AAAAAAAA!!!

-> Hushed wisher

I really don't think we have ever seen Noa coaching any player other than Isagi, so him silently rooting for Kaiser caught me off guard real hard. Of course, it doesn't seem like much of a big deal, but to see that Noa hadn't completely taken his eyes off of Kaiser and that he hadn't completely pulled away his trust from Kaiser hits a certain type of emotion in my heart.

Considering that Kaiser wants to win over Noa too—a fact Noa, probably, knows—makes everything feel a bit.. bittersweet.

-> CHEERS!!

The above panel happened after Shidou scored a goal against Barcha and honestly—

CUTE!!!

I mean, BM was next in line to face PxG—it's probably the reason why they were watching the match live—and they were going to face Shidou which makes them rivals, and yet, when he does something cool, they all go, "WOOHOO! THAT'S COOL!!" instead of worrying or being jealous.

It's called sportsmanship, I guess?

It's sweet.

-> BM's Dad

There's another translation, but I find the above one way better because it's so... soft.

I mean, Noa has always been shown as this cold, emotionless person who inhales and exhales logic, so it was sweet when he tried to reassure Kiyora—when he showed some kind of compassion. It was like, "Hey, Kiddo! It's okay, don't worry, you'll play the next time! Cheer up!"

It also makes it sound like even if Kiyora were not to have the required stats for the next match, then Noa was prepared to against his own ideals and let Kiyora play regardless.

Sweet!

-> Protective

When Nagi got pissed off because Barou's violent behaviour nearly hurt Reo. Like, just look at that stance, he was ready to beat the crap out of Barou if Reo wouldn't have stopped him.

No matter what label you give Nagi and Reo—lovers or friends—you can't deny that they are probably the best thing that happened to eachother.

I really want what they have.

-> "It's their love language"

They barely knew eachother and yet when these two started to brawl, they all intervened immediately—Nanase and Isagi are literally hanging onto them with their dear life. It's tough to explain, but I found the gesture really sweet, like, they didn't know them! They could bash open their skulls—it wouldn't affect them at all and yet, they are trying to stop them!

Adorbs!!

Also, Chigiri was on the other side of the field, I guess. He came running!!! So sweet!

-> First friend

The way Bachira blindly believed in Isagi. Like, he had full trust that Isagi will come and play with him. He never doubted him at all! The healthiest duo of Blue Lock!

Also, look at his duck lips. Cutie.

-> "Welcome to the academy!"

Anybody who has shifted to a completely new place full of completely new people knows how good and relieving it feels when others make an effort to help you feel welcomed.

No idea if those three extra characters got selected in the tryouts or not, but they were nice. If Kaiser would've met them earlier, then they all would've surely been good buddies.

-> Beloved Ace

The way everyone instantly got mad at Shidou when he hurt Sendou—sweet! Also, the fact that they all refused to play if Sendou didn't play makes me giggle.

I adore bonds like these so much.

.

.

.

Pt: 1, 2, 3.

Probably the last of this series.

[im-ovulating]

Hear me out:

Demon ruts.

Like imagine-

Lucifer getting so painfully hard and needy that he has to swallow his pride to press you to "Please! Please let him fuck you!" He's practically on his knees begging you. Bonus points if you play hard to get. If you manage to play your cards right, then he'll actually devolve to groveling on his knees, precum absolutely dripping from the head of his cock as he grabs at your hips in desperation. He always has to be the epitome of control, but he secretly lives for these times where he finally yields and lets you take the reins. A whole week of not having to worry about anything more than filling you to the brim? Yes, please.

You'll have Mammon going absolutely feral with the slightest brush against his chest or shoulders- He'll be so greedy for your touch that you won't be able to leave yours or his room; one of the other brothers having to bring food and water for you to consume during the small lucid breaks between his rounds of salacity. I hope your stamina is good because you're scarcely going to be let out bed for the next few days...

On the edge of practical insanity, Leviathan wants nothing more than to watch as you bounce yourself on his cock, the smack of your thighs against his pelvis being the most erotic thing he can imagine. He's nothing short of mesmerized by the jiggle of your thighs as you continue to slam down onto him. Mixing that with the purely pornographic expression and sounds you're letting trickle from your pretty lips has him bucking his hips into your with renewed vigor. He's almost envious for everyone else because they'll never get to see you like this. No, this sight is reserved for him and him alone...

Satan holds your wrists in a bruising grip behind your back as he pounds into you from behind; it's as if he's furious. Probably because he is- how dare you speak to that lowly demon? Don't you know your his? He's growling in your ear how "you belong to him" and how he'll "kill anyone for touching what's his". Your ass is red from the sheer force behind each thrust. You can't bring yourself to mind, though, not when the tip of his cock is brushing so deliciously against that special spot.

Your body molds together with Asmodeus in the most beautiful way. The lust filled air, hot and heavy as you work each other towards your crescendo. There's no work from Picasso or Van Gogh or Monet that can rival the pure art that is the the two of you during this week. He holds you just as close as you hold him as your hips roll rhythmically together. Hickies grace each of you in a constellation that traces out the testiment of you connection.

You're sticky with a mixture of sweat, cum, and all of the sweet drizzles Beelzebub used. He's grunting out the most obscene things you've ever heard as he rumbles about "how sweet you are for him". His tongue lapping up the remnants of the whipped cream he used earlier, the sweetness mixing deliciously with the salty, savory taste of your combined cum. His large hands holding you in place as he moves to lap up the bit of caramel still coating your aching slit. Don't even think about trying to shower- you're his for the taking this week and he wants to taste everything you have to offer...

It's the mixture of slow, deep thrusting and animalistic fucking that has you slowly losing your mind with Belphegor. The few hours of sleep you get are interrupted by his familiar weight settling in top of you as he slides home for the first time of many that day. The slow, tired rolls of his hips turn into rough thrusts that have his heavy balls slapping perfectly against your ass cheeks, the sound mortifyingly vulgar in the quiet early morning hours. His hands gripping yours in a way that almost makes this feel intimate in comparison to the carnal fucking that it actually is.

(I don't know what this is either... I wrote this instead of socializing at my family's 4th of July reunion 🥲🔫)

Reblogs are appreciated!🛐 Happy 4th to everyone who celebrates it🎉

[ellecdc]

Running Late

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who is visually impaired

CW: reader has a degenerative eye disease that has left her with little sight, boys are obsessed with her, Marlene and Regulus read Sirius like a book

A/N: another fic no one really asked for but, after my post with our sweet wheelchair user!reader, our resident pink heart emoji felt courageous enough to share their own experience with visual impairment and I was inspired by her to write this - so, I hope you enjoy it 🩷 (and everyone else who might need it 🫶)

There was a time that you and Sirius rivalled one another for who took the longest to get ready, but lately it seemed that you usually won in that regard. 

Remus didn’t mind, however; he’d wait on you for the rest of his life if you’d let him. 

He had a certain amount of patience for you that he, admittedly, did not have for Sirius; seeing as you had your degenerative eye disease to blame on your tardiness whereas Sirius was just a slow and lazy sod who lived to drive Remus mad. 

He and Sirius had been dressed in their best in the living room as they waited for you to finish getting ready before heading to Regulus’ birthday party that Lily and James were throwing for him, when Sirius couldn’t take it any longer.

“I’m just going to go see what is taking so long.” He explained before he disappeared down the hall.

But that was almost 14 minutes ago and now Remus had lost two of his partners in his own flat.

He slowly made his way down the hall to the bedroom door that was currently propped open, allowing him to watch Sirius who was perched on the vanity table as he hovered over you with a stick of eyeliner in his hands. 

You used to be quite adventurous with makeup; always watching new tutorials and trying out different styles. But as your eyesight deteriorated, you opted to remain more natural in your looks, working primarily off of memory than visuals when having to hold a mirror so close to your face no longer allowed you the dexterity to work as you were used to. 

And Remus knew for certain you hadn’t touched that stick of eyeliner in what had to be months. 

“Don’t you trust my abilities?” Sirius asked teasingly; his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he focused on getting the wing just right.

“‘Course I trust you, Siri. I just-”

“-don’t want to look silly, I know, doll.” Sirius finished for you softly as he leaned back to consider his work. “I’d never let you leave looking silly.”

“When has she ever looked silly, Pads?” Remus asked then, alerting the two of you to his presence. 

“Not once; never.” He answered readily, causing you to scoff.

“See, this is why I don’t trust you; you’re not objective.”

“I am too objective!” Sirius quickly denied.

“Sirius, you think I look sexy with my retainer and flannel pyjamas.” You deadpanned in return. 

“But… you are sexy with your retainer and flannel pyjamas? You just look so cosy which makes me think about bed, which makes me think about going to bed with you, which makes me think about what we do in said bed and-” 

“Alright, alright.” Remus interrupted with a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he inspected Sirius’ handiwork. 

“How does she look?” Sirius asked him, leaning into Remus’ side as they both watched you flush under their attention. 

“Breathtaking.” Remus offered. 

“You’re not objective, either.” You murmured, pulling the small mirror close to your face in order to scrutinise Sirius’ application. 

“Fine, you want objective, gorgeous?” Sirius quipped as he pulled his phone out.

“What are you doing?” You asked warily as you heard Sirius’ phone begin to ring. 

“Calling the most objective people I know.” He answered just as the ringing stopped.

“What the fuck do you want? And also, where the fuck are you?” Regulus asked his brother.

“Hey Reg, you’re on speaker phone and I need a favour.” 

“On my birthday? You’re asking me for a favour on my birthday?” Regulus asked incredulously. 

“Relax you git, I just need you to find Marlene and put your camera on so you can answer a question for me.” Sirius called back.

You grumbled in protest at Sirius’ theatrics but acquiesced at Remus’ kiss to your temple and thumb rubbing along your shoulder where his hand rested. 

“The fuck does he want!?” You all heard Marlene ask Regulus, causing the two of you to snort and Sirius to scoff in offence. 

“You guys are fuckin’ horrid, listen; how do I look?”

Marlene went first. “Slutty.”

“Like you tried too hard.” Regulus continued.

“Like you’re still trying to piss off your parents even though you don’t talk to them anymore.” 

“Like you were lost at a Paramore concert back in 2007 and still haven’t been picked up from the venue.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Sirius sighed before repositioning himself. “And how does Moony look?”

“Better, I guess.” Regulus offered. 

“If I had to pick a man.” Marlene continued.

“Great.” Sirius said sarcastically. “And what about Y/N?” He asked as he pointed the phone to you. 

Remus could tell you were trying your hardest not to completely turn in on yourself, which he himself was selfishly grateful for as he got to enjoy the view.

“God, she’s such a doll.” Marlene breathed out. 

“You look stunning, love.” Regulus called out.

“Great, you guys are both wankers, love you, see you soon.” Sirius responded before abruptly ending the call.  “Was that objective enough for you?” 

You let out a sigh of faux exasperation and threw your head back. “Okay! Okay.” You relented, allowing Remus to pull you up by your hands and kiss your forehead.

“Oi! Watch the makeup Rem!” Sirius admonished him with a pat to his arse. “We worked hard on that, don’t you know?”

And Remus did know, though he didn’t think you had to. 

Because you were beautiful - always had been - and the way you carried yourself with grace and determination even when you felt as though your body was failing you left you, somehow, even more beautiful. 

Remus had known you before your eyesight started to deteriorate, and he was lucky to have been able to love both versions of you.

Though, selfishly, he thought perhaps he loved this version of you more, simply because it was his.

Simply because it was you; here, now. 

And judging by the lovesick look adorning his boyfriend’s face as he watched you stand and give him a twirl, Sirius felt just the same.

[somewhereincairparavel]

The fandom's bias and tendency to wanting to agressively associate EVERYTHING with Percy and getting upset when a character isn't associated with him really taints their view on actually significant relationships, and it ruins Percy's canon character tbh.

I came across a video edit appreciating Jason and Nico's friendship, and the comments were just filled with people raging on how Percy should've been included instead of Jason because he was "much closer friends" to Nico than Jason was. It's appalling how much ppl can turn to a blind eye when it comes to Jason.

People hate Jason SO much in this fandom that they literally refuse to admit that Nico canonically considered Jason as his first ever friend, not Percy (this is literally said in Tower of Nero, by the way)

You guys are seriously so hell bent on wanting to take away every little thing jason had that makes his character meaningful, simple to give it to percy when it isn't even necessary. Doesn't percy have enough good characterization already? Why deprive Nico of a genuinely good friendship? Jason spent time and effort to make Nico comfortable and succeeded in earning nicos trust. He taught nico to never push people away and not to be ashamed of being himself, Isn't that beautiful? Why do people get salty abt that so much? Because of course, it's about appreciating Jason for once, and not Percy, isn't that it?

My perspective on Percy and Nico is that, they were never really "close" to begin with and never ended up being close either, and that's okay. Percy tried his very best to be a brother to Nico, but they somehow always had tension with eachother because of Nico's internal turmoil of idolizing and crushing on Percy whilst simultaneously associating him with Bianca.

Sure, they talked it out a little in the end, but I'd like to think that some tension would always be there, because they started off at the wrong foot, and there was too much bitterness and resentment to come in their dynamic. And them never actually being close "brothers" makes their dynamic very significant and authentic. In the end, Nico acknowledged that Percy was a good person, and I like to think that's the farthest they've ever gone in their dynamic. They both are on amicable terms but the awkwardness still being there is very realistic, the weight of Bianca's death would always be associated with Percy to Nico, and it's neither of their faults. That adds SO much to their angsty dynamic, why get so upset about it when it's such an integral, and meaningful part of the story? Nico and Percy not being close friends shows how complex character relationships can be.

Percy doesn't have to be close with everyone just because he's the main character, it really deprives him of actually meaningful connections. The fandom forcing him to be buddy buddy with everyone simply because they HAVE to associate Percy with anyone and everyone, and getting angry that Jason is closer to Nico than Percy is, is just really weird.

Why do people feel SO threatened about Jason all the time that they have to get all defensive and suppress his connections by dragging Percy into videos that doesn't even have to do anything with him? I swear y'all are creating this whole Jason/Percy rivalry thing because you cannot bear to see someone rival Percy, and you want Percy to be the only powerful/good person in the books.

Let other characters befriend eachother without trying to insert Percy in there all the time.

Percy and Nico would never be like Reyna and Nico, or Jason and Nico, and that's completely fine. I like them better that way. You can't be best friends with everyone. That's just how life works.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

This is the collection of everything I've ever posted! It's not too good, but I hope you like it anyways!

Please don't interact with my writing if you're not above 18. You can interact with me, talk to me if you want, but you shouldn't be here if you're under 18.

I TAKE REQUESTS! There are a bunch of them in my inbox as well, and I try to write them as soon as I can! But please don't do that thing where you send the same thing to multiple writers--it is kinda off-putting for me.

I would love for anyone to like/comment on/reblog my posts. Everyu interaction is much, much appreciated, and hey, it helps us grow. It's free-supporting people who write here. So please, do what you can!

searchable tags: #harry styles fanfiction for all original posts. (to filter out the reblogs) #ask for all asks in my inbox

Please don't repost or translate any of my works anywhere. Any support in the form of likes and reblogs is truly, madly, deeply appreciated!

Here's my ko-fi for any tips you would like to give me!

Hope you have a great day! 🫶

updated on: 19/5

HOLIDAY FICS 2023 [8]

HEADCANONS

jealous!harry headcanons

boyfriend!harry headcanons

boyfriend!harry headcanons (another one 🙈)

dad's best friend!harry headcanons

mean!friends with benefits!harry headcanons

harry in love

grumpy!harry headcanons (mechanicrry universe)

husband!harry headcanons (explicit version)

secret relationship with 1D harry (headcanons)

《《 SERIES》》

Secret Little Rendevous | (co-worker!harry x reader) [COMPLETE SERIES]

In which you are in a friends-with-benefits relationship than Harry, and it gets messier as you go forward. (Not your typical enemies to lovers fic)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Unfulfilled | (nerd!harry x reader)

in which you and harry are (friendly) academic rivals, and things change

part 1

A Chrome Connection | (grumpy!harry x sunshine!reader)

In which you are in desperate need of some car-fixing(and a place to live in) and you find Harry, a grumpy mechanic who supposedly dosen't care about people around him. But, will he melt when he finds a broken girl crying in her car on a cold Thanksgiving night?

a misfortune - part 1

windfall - part 2

melancholia - part 3

Hopelessly Devoted to You | (lawyer!harry x reader)

In which Y/n just wants to leave her abusive husband, and Harry is hopelessly devoted to her

Part-1 Part-2 Part-3 Part-4

Sweet Creature | (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

you landed your dream job as a line cook at Harry Styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

part 1 part 2 part 3

《LONG ONE SHOTS》

An Eternal Embarce* (hades!harry x persephone!y/n)

in which persephone is back after 6 months, and the underworld blossoms once again. tensions arise too, but there is nothing that the king of underworld and queen of sspring can't handle together [Word Count: 7k]

Just the two of us -vday check in

Serendipity*

harry meets you at the most unexpected of places, and helps you like a knight in a wedding suit. it all starts at your best friend's wedding, where you find yourself in a predicament without an escort. as panic sets in, harry appears, sent by the groom's brother to fill in as your last-minute companion. from that moment, a serendipitous connection begins to bloom between you both. [Word Count: 5k]

Solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n) part 2

harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it? [Word Count: 11.6 k]

Rain-Kissed* (footballer!harry x nerd!y/n)

y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining [Word Count: 6.1 k]

Intertwined* (hockey player!harry x figure skater!y/n)

harry practices at the local ice rink every night, but lately, all he can think about is a specific figure skater that he admires from a distance. when she asks him for some "private" lessons on ice, will they give in to the stolen glances and undeniable tension? [Word Count: 6k]

《ONE SHOT/BLURBS》

SMUT

hot n' hard*

you and harry are at the pool for some fun, and you both rile each other up throughout. you both end up fucking at the edge of the pool and your exhibitionism kink has never been fueled so good.

thigh riding*

you playfully tease harry and, let's just say, it does not go well

don't stop

riding harry with your hands tied behind your back

breeding kink-blurb*

harry sees you around kids on a Christmas dinner, and he's obsessed with giving you his own

cupidity*

"don't make me take you home and punish you"

his* (jealousrry blowjob blurb)

harry is jealous, primal and dominant tonight, and you have never been so turned on

temporary fix*

in which a stranger at a bar becomes your good night (inspired by temporary fix by 1D (duh))

three knuckle deep*(aka fingering blurb)

in which you break harry's rule, and there are consequences

curves*

a plus-size!y/n fic

good girl*

straight up filth, sex w/ harry

euphoria*

soft dom!harry while his girl sucks on his cock

near the fireplace*

sex near the fireplace after a christmas dinner

a new year, a new beginning*

new years with harry's family, followed by some love making

FLUFF

drunk harry

in which harry is drunk, and you are trying to take care of the cutie pie

drunk y/n

in which you have a test the next day, and you find refuge in drinking and harry

addicted

about Harry’s addiction of kissing you

vexed

in which you are burnt out, and Harry comes to your rescue, in cute pajamas, with cookies and hot chocolate

tranquility

inspired by harry's pics of him swimming in the ocean

here for you

a fluffy period blurb, ft. pillow fights and kisses!

baby

boyfriend!h takes care of pregnant!reader, with a lot of fluffy cuteness. the baby kicks for the first time, and harry is overjoyed.

cuddles

ft. harry being cuddly and clingy

late-night serenades

you play guitar, but harry dosen’t know that. one night, you can't sleep, and harry's guitar looks quite tempting

breakfast in bed

in which harry wants to bring you breakfast in bed, but you have woken up. thankfully, he is cute and you're smitten

hold on to me

(trumpet player!harry x clarinet player!reader) you're both off to college after a while, and it's your last time playing together. feelings are comnfessed, and promises are made.

a christmas with harry

your first christmas with harry at his home, surrounded by his family and friends

dance with me

in which you and harry are at a friend's wedding, and you really don't know how to dance

thanksgiving

coming from a place where thanksgiving isn't celebrated, harry is more than happy to show you

ANGST

trepidation

in which you are too busy for the relationship, and he feels you slipping away.

insecure * requisite(part 2)*(SMUT)

in which harry feels insecure, because you want to keep your relationship a secret. ft: fluff, angst, dirty talk

waiting * for you(part 2)

a 6 month anniversary date turns into broken promises and doubts over your love

disconnected*

first time sex with harry, which leads to misunderstandings, miscommunication and insecurities

requests are open!!!

(*-> smut)

blurb night concepts

21/4

divider and header by @/saradika

[cherry-leclerc]

i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad. 

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport. 

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt. 

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son. 

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime. 

-

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers. 

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious. 

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari. 

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt. 

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing. 

-

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him. 

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm. 

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!” 

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.  

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

-

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile. 

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you? 

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you. 

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

-

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased. 

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes. 

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin. 

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve? 

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close. 

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard. 

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him. 

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth. 

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight. 

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.” 

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn. 

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together. 

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man. 

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit. 

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head. 

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

 He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right? 

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them. 

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased. 

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.” 

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐢𝐜𝐞-𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

figure skater!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: brother's rival, mostly angst & some fluff

warnings: poor figure skating references cause i have no clue lol, slow burn (sort of), insecurities, mentions of injuries, skinship, curse words

word count: 13k

author's note: the names of the other characters in the story do not refer to any idols or irl people, i just needed names lol

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

there was something about park sunghoon that had you keeping your eyes on him throughout the entirety of his practice. maybe it was the fact that he was insanely good at what he was doing, or because he was insanely good-looking.

in fact, you'd been admiring him for quite some time – which you would never, ever, admit. cause what the hell would you tell your brother?

you remembered his reaction when you had told him you had a crush on his best friend – a silly prank you were forced to pull on him during a round of truth or dare at a party. you preferred to not find out how he'd react if you told him the same about the guy he called his rival. especially if it was not a prank this time.

to be fair, you found their entire 'rivalry' a bit childish, knowing that it was solely based on sunghoon always snatching the gold medal from your brother by scoring just a few points more.

however, paying close attention to the way he slid over the ice with such smoothness, making even the most difficult moves look effortless, you understood why he always left your brother in the second place.

"ready to lose on saturday?" his mocking voice echoed through the big hall, reminding you of the reason you were here in the first place. the first competition after your long break of figure skating. the thought of it made you equally excited and nervous. you'd had a long time to practice, but could you really go back to how good you used to be after all that had happened?

although thoughts and doubts started clouding your mind, his question made you wonder; why would he care if you lost, you weren't competing against him, after all.

"i know me and my brother look alike, but we're not that similar," you tried to sound tough, but only realized how awkward the words came out after they already had.

you mentally cursed yourself when you saw the right corner of his lip curl up into a smile that mirrored the sneering tone of his question before. he came to a halt in front of you, only the railing, on which he rested his arms, separating you. he leaned forward just a little. "right, you're better," he replied with an undefinable expression and a short chuckle, which made you question if his words were meant to be sarcastic or genuine.

although you usually admired him for the confidence he radiated, now, you may as well say you hated it – hated how small it made you feel, especially when he was so close and towered over you by a good couple of centimeters.

his dark orbs found yours, keeping steady eye contact for a painfully long moment. you didn't want to give in, not willing to give him the satisfaction of backing down, although on the inside, everything screamed at you to look away. the corners of sunghoon's eyes crinkled slightly as his lips, once again, curled up into that mischievous smile.

he was aware of the discomfort that was building up behind your seemingly strong demeanor, you were sure of that. and he found it amusing. no wonder your brother couldn't stand him.

sunghoon pushed himself up from the railing, straightening his posture. "is your partner gonna come, or..." he asked, after looking around the hall.

"yeah, he said he'll be late by five minutes," you replied, hoping that the announcement of jisung's arrival would make sunghoon pack his bags and leave the ice rink for the rest of the day. but when he didn't seem to move, you quickly added "coach reserved the rink for us so–"

"do you still skate with him, by the way?" sunghoon interrupted, not seeming to care about leaving.

knowing exactly what he was aiming at, you narrowed your eyes a bit, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "yes," you replied shortly and sternly, hoping he'd take the hint and not dig deeper.

sunghoon, however, raised an eyebrow and looked at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "seriously? after all that happened?"

you should have known he wouldn't drop the topic, yet it made your stomach slowly burn with anger. why did he have to talk about it now? so shortly before the competition, and after you had put so much hard work into regaining not only your abilities, but most importantly the trust you had always blindly put in jisung.

"it's none of your business, park," you snapped.

"he's the reason you almost lost your dream, y/n," sunghoon replied dryly, clearly not affected by the sudden change in your demeanor, "it's almost a miracle you're here now."

as if on autopilot, your brain replayed the day you had tried so hard to shove to the back of your mind – to forget. the day you were so close to chasing your dreams, so close to winning the most important competition up to that point in your life. the day not only the win slipped away, but your entire career was too close to do the same. you knew sunghoon was right, it was a miracle you were here. that you were even standing.

"you know," sunghoon's voice snapped you back to reality, "i would have never dropped you," he said – loud enough for jisung, who had just come in, to hear too. sunghoon finally left the ice, changing to his sneakers and shooting the other boy a glance with an emotion you couldn't quite make out, before he walked off.

your eyes followed him until he was out of sight – your mind still tangled in the thoughts of your body crashing down on the ice heavily, leaving you with a broken leg and several fractures along your spine.

"hey, are you okay?" jisung asked once he was close enough to you. he knew exactly what was wrong, his guilt still fresh despite the months that had passed since the day he hadn't paid enough attention – the day that he had accidentally let go of you, responsible for your heavy injuries that suspended you from ice skating for several months.

when you didn't react, he tried again, "i–... i practiced a lot, i improved! you know that, we've been practicing together the past weeks, we've been fine, you–... you'll be fine. i won't let anything happen to you another time!" he blurted out. his effort in trying to reassure you, however, stayed unsuccessful.

you wordlessly changed from your sneakers to your ice skates, your mind still captured by sunghoon's words.

throughout the entire practice, you couldn't shake the thoughts off. it made you lose focus, made your movements sloppy – too slow, too fast, too incorrect. you felt the pressure inside of you building up more and more with each piece of guidance your coach gave, her voice growing more frustrated with each word.

it was just practice, there was nothing that could happen now, you tried to remind yourself.

but when jisung's arms wrapped around your waist to help with the lift, and your legs left the ground, your heart pounded violently in your chest. blood rushed in your ears as your body tensed up completely – every muscle inside of you froze, and jisung noticed immediately, forcing himself to stop.

he tightened his grip around your waist and carefully lowered you back onto the ice before you could drop. your legs wobbled slightly as they touched down again, and you tried to regain control. you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, desperate to calm the storm inside of you and keep the tears from welling up. you couldn't afford to break down now.

your breath hitched when you felt his hand on your shoulder. you hadn't realized jisung had let go of your waist, or how he was now standing in front of you, concern written all over his face.

"are you okay?" he asked softly, but before you could answer, the coach's voice cut through the air.

"take a break, guys!" she called out, clearly frustrated, her eyes lingering on you. you could feel her gaze heavy with expectation and disappointment, and the pressure inside of you only grew bigger.

you exhaled sharply, slid across the ice until you reached the exit, and sat down on a bench. you knew you had to get yourself together, you knew you had only another week. and while a gold medal was for sure out of reach at your first competition after your long hiatus, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself either.

jisung stayed on the ice, his face slowly dropping as he saw you sitting on the bench, looking so vulnerable, so fragile. he sighed softly, before slowly approaching you.

"can i sit?", he asked and sat down once he saw you nodding. "y/n, i know we had... we had our problems," he fiddled with his hands, "and if you cannot find trust in me again, i can totally understand that... we can still cancel the competition," he said, his voice soft and careful, as if he was making sure to not jump to conclusions too quickly.

for the first time since you had sat down, you raised your head to look at him. "it's just..." you looked down again, feeling almost too embarrassing to face him, "it's all going so fast, jisung. and i'm still so insecure," the volume of your voice decreased with each word.

you felt his warm hand on yours, his thumb stroking against your skin a few times, before he gave your hand a gentle, yet reassuring squeeze. "we have almost a week," he said calmly, "we still have time to practice and we'll find our rhythm again, okay?"

when you looked up at him again, you saw a soft smile on his lips. you nodded slowly, stood up, and headed back to the ice.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

throughout the week, you found yourself at the ice rink more often than not, spending hours and hours practicing with jisung – until both of you were so exhausted that you physically couldn't do more. with each time, the two of you grew more confident.

"okay, you're good for today," you hear your coach announcing after going through the choreography uncountable times. you exhaled, relieved that you could finally finish practice for that day. as you were catching your breath, you looked at your coach with anticipation, waiting for her feedback.

"you're both improving," she began. a small weight lifted from your shoulders. she didn’t sound particularly impressed, but after years of practice under her guidance, you were familiar with her indifferent tone. praise from her was rare; she often said she didn't want to let it get to your head. "however," she looked at you, "you're still not confident, y/n. and it shows a lot. you have to trust jisung if you don't want to fail on saturday."

you just nodded, not able to object. she was right after all. you would have loved to say you trusted him fully again - but whenever he had to hold you, you'd tense, your breath getting stuck in your throat.

"jisung, you're free to go. y/n, you stay. change your shoes and wait on the side," she announced. you could feel jisung next to you shooting you a quick look before he looked back at the coach, and the two of you nodded in synch.

you took a moment to sit and reflect on the feedback, replaying it in your mind. when you finally decided to change your shoes, jisung approached you, already changed and with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"are you okay?" he asked, his voice low. it was like you could hear the apologetic look he had in his eyes, even without meeting his gaze. you nodded again. "i'm sorry," you mumbled, "i'll get myself together before the weekend."

jisung flashed a sad smile, taking your hands in his and pulling you up from the bench until you were standing in front of him, only to pull you into a short but tight hug. you reciprocated his action, softly clinging onto his shirt even when he wanted to let go. "stay," you whispered against his chest.

hugging him felt natural. the two of you had been close before your injury, you had always gotten along – it was sort of a must since you were spending all your afternoons together. his embrace was comforting, especially with all the pressure weighing on you.

when you finally pulled away, you almost overlooked the faint pink tint on jisung's cheeks. he glanced down at you and cleared his throat. "do you need a ride? i can wait for you outside," he offered, but you shook your head. "who knows how long she's going to keep me here," you replied, keeping your voice low enough so your coach couldn't hear. jisung chuckled slightly and nodded. "fine, but don't go alone if it's getting late. you can call me."

"i'll ask hyuk, don't worry," you smiled, before waving to him to signal him that it was okay to leave. he turned around and left, not without turning back and giving you another quick, reassuring smile, as if he wanted to tell you to not worry for what was still to come this evening.

"haeun and sunghoon are coming to practice," your coach stated as she approached you, "they're very good. i want you to watch them. understand their chemistry and the trust they have in each other," she requested, and you responded with an eager nod. "i want you to put that into your next practice with jisung."

as if on cue, you heard two voices coming closer. you couldn't quite understand what haeun and sunghoon were talking about, but from their faces you understood that their conversation must have been carefree. they were exchanging smiles and laughter, and you started wondering if you had ever seen sunghoon genuinely smile before.

"are you going to leave or…" sunghoon's voice interrupted your thoughts. you furrowed your brows. "couldn't have phrased it nicer," you mumbled more to yourself than to him.

before sunghoon could reply, your coach chimed in, "i told y/n to watch your practice to learn from you. take it as a compliment and don't disappoint her, i spoke highly of you."

"but..." haeun crossed her arms in front of her chest, "isn't she going to be at advantage on saturday? i mean, she'll know our moves and everything."

now, what sunghoon had said a few days ago suddenly made perfect sense. he had asked you if you were ready to lose because you were, in fact, competing against him. a flutter of unease settled in your stomach. both haeun and sunghoon were extremely good, they were usually at the top in their solo performances, so them competing together in pair skating made perfect sense. but that also meant you'd face a greater challenge; competing against them meant your insecurities and mistakes would stand out even more against their flawless performance.

"don't worry," sunghoon replied to haeun, but his gaze was fixed on you. "her injury set her back months – physically and mentally. she can't compare to us."

you bit your inner cheek to not snap a harsh comment back at him.

the sharp sound of blades cutting into the ice filled the air as they started their routine. as you watched them practice, it became increasingly clear that sunghoon was right. you understood not only their chemistry and trust, you mostly understood how far behind you were – that you'd stand no chance against them.

their practice went on for what felt like forever, and the more time passed, the more your mood dropped. for an outsider, it would have been pure bliss to watch them, but for you it felt like torture – like you were forced to watch them, not for inspiration as to what you could be, but as an reminder of everything you were not.

you had to admit you were jealous. you wished you were able to put the same trust in jisung that haeun seemed to have in sunghoon, and if you were honest, you didn't know what was holding you back. your accident had been so long ago and you could tell that jisung was way more stable now. ever since you'd started again, he hadn't given you a single reason to be worried. and yet, you couldn't trust him, even though you wanted to so bad.

your disappointment began to intertwine with a rising sense of guilt as you recalled the way jisung’s expression would shift whenever he sensed your worries. and the way he'd still apologize, even after so many months, seemingly never really getting over the fact that you'd almost had to end your career, just because his attention had slipped for a second.

"you going home or are you gonna stay here all night?" sunghoon's voice startled you.

you looked around, trying to collect your thoughts, and realizing only then that the hall had emptied except for the two of you, and your impatient-looking coach waiting to lock the doors.

"yes, i..." you started and pulled out your phone to check the time, "i'll call hyuk."

sunghoon shrugged, before making his way towards the exit. you scrolled through your call history until you found your brother's contact, quickly clicking on it as you rushed toward the door behind sunghoon, offering a brief goodbye to your coach.

the cold night air hit you with an unexpected force, and although you were wearing your jacket, your body started to shiver slightly. you wrapped your free arm around yourself, while keeping your phone close to your ear with the other, waiting for the beep-sounds to get replaced by your brother's voice.

sunghoon walked to his car, threw his bag on the backseat and sat down behind the steering wheel, starting the engine but not driving off. he looked at you, furrowing his eyebrows when you continuously lowered your phone and tapped around, only to bring it up to your ear again. he sighed, before hesitantly rolling down the window.

"you need a ride?" he asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

you immediately shook your head, to which the lines between sunghoon's eyebrows only deepened more. "your brother doesn't seem to pick up," he stated the obvious.

"no shit, sherlock," you mumbled, rolling your eyes, "i'll call jisung, you can go home."

"and wait in the cold until he's here? you're shaking," he objected, and when he realized the words sounded more worried than he had intended, he quickly added, "might as well make use of it now that i already decided to be kind for once."

you sighed, weighing the options that you had and frowned on the inside when you had to admit he was right. if it hadn't been cold and you hadn't been freezing so much, there was no way you'd set foot in his car. but you started to feel like the cold air went under your skin and you really didn't want to wait for jisung, let alone burden him by calling, so you wordlessly walked over to sunghoon's car and opened the passenger door.

he gave you a short nod, as if to confirm that you could sit down. once you were sat and had the seatbelt fastened, sunghoon fiddled around with some buttons, before pulling out of the parking lot. for the first time in hours, your muscles started to release all the tension you had been holding, when you slowly felt your seat getting warmer.

"better?" sunghoon asked, shooting you a quick glace, before focusing on the street again. you nodded and responded with a quiet "better" that almost came out as a whisper, "thanks, sunghoon."

"no need. just tell me how to get to your place," he replied dryly.

the both of you stayed silent throughout the entirety of the ride, except for the directions you gave him. it felt uncomfortable – like the awkward tension would suffocate you any second. while you were keeping your head slightly turned to look outside the window, sunghoon's eyes flashed back and forth between you and the road from time to time.

"you can just drop me off here," you announced once he took the turn into your street. he clicked his tongue "i already came all the way here, i won't die driving to the end of the street as well. besides..." he looked around, "your neighbourhood looks creepy, not gonna lie."

"whatever you say," you mumbled in response, not wanting to argue, but too proud to agree with him either.

you thanked him again once he pulled up in front of your house, double and triple checked that you didn't forget anything in his car and quickly rushed to your front door, hearing him drive off not before you had unlocked the door.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

as saturday rolled around, you found yourself warming up, feeling even more tense and nervous than you had originally thought. although the last days before the competition had gone really well, you couldn't shake the thought off your mind that you might mess everything up.

jisung was standing next to you, putting one hand on your shoulder and squeezing gently. "we got this, okay? don't worry, y/n, i got you," he tried to calm you down, shoving his own nervousness to the back of his mind.

without even realizing, you softly leaned into him, finding comfort in his touch, finding stability, something to hold onto in his mere presence. that's when you thought you could do it, thought you might be able to overcome your fears and shove aside the thoughts that kept creeping up on you.

but when it was time to perform that one jump, only some minutes later, you realized you had been wrong - once again. you froze, your widened eyes searching for jisung, who nodded in approval, trying to reassure you. if this was practice, you'd stop right there and then, but this wasn't practice and you couldn't afford to just quit and run away. in the end, it was the pressure that drove you when you aimed for the jump, way too hesitantly, way too half-heartedly. you could feel jisung trying his best to compensate your lack of power, but he alone couldn't turn the tide. and so you ended your performance – without injuries, but with a huge gap between what you could have done, and what you had delivered in the end.

"it's fine," you heard him whisper while you were still in your ending pose, waiting for the judges to announce the end.

you slid wordlessly across the ice towards the exit, stepped out, and headed to the changing room. once inside, you sat down and stared at the floor, time seeming to stretch on endlessly. with a heavy sigh, you bent down, removed your ice skates, and replaced them with your shoes. pulling your hoodie over your uniform, you stayed seated, unable to stand – unprepared to face the world outside, unwilling to hear the inevitable comments.

your vision began to blur, and though you would have usually blinked the tears away, this time, you let them fall freely. you couldn’t keep bottling up your emotions. silent tears ran down your face, interrupted only by the occasional soft sob.

"y/n?" your brother’s voice startled you from the other side of the door. he knocked gently, pushing it open slightly when you didn’t respond. seeing you, he sighed and opened his arms, silently offering a hug.

without a word, you walked into his embrace, feeling his arms tighten around you as he gently stroked your back. "it’s okay, you did well," he whispered, trying to comfort you, but you only managed a muffled scoff against his chest.

"i completely messed up at the end, hyuk," you muttered, pulling away to face him. "i really thought i could do it this time, but... i want to trust jisung, i really do, but i just can't," you admitted, your voice breaking with each sob.

hyuk gently patted your head. "i know, i know… you did well up until that point. it’s okay to be scared. maybe you just need more time. don’t be so hard on yourself," he said softly.

"come on, let’s head back out. i can’t wait to see sunghoon get beaten by the other team. i’m sure they scored higher than him and haeun," he teased, making you smile despite the state you were in. you nodded in agreement, feeling just a little lighter.

as you watched them indeed take second place, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your brother’s expression. “now it’s your turn to finally beat him. if someone else can do it, so can you,” you teased, drawing a smile from him. normally, he would’ve made a jab about you not beating him either, but today he kept those thoughts to himself, simply glad to finally see you smile.

you watched as your coach approached haeun and sunghoon, congratulating them, before gesturing for sunghoon to join her on the side for another conversation. you could see his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, the smile that had been plastered on his face for getting yet another medal dropping quickly. had she complained they only made it to the second place? you hadn’t seen their performance, but you couldn’t picture sunghoon making a mistake so grave that it would cost them the win.

when his gaze met yours, a chill ran through you, and you were certain you’d be a goner if looks could kill. you quickly averted your gaze, determined to focus on anything but him, yet you could still feel his eyes practically piercing holes through your body.

“y/n,” you heard your coach call as she approached you. you turned to face her, peeking over her shoulder to see sunghoon talking to haeun, who was now standing next to him, but still glaring at you.

“after today, i think you need to start rebuilding your trust, not just in your partner, but in yourself, or you'll end up locking up every movement at some point,” she began. you nodded, fully aware that it was easier said than done.

“so, for the next few months, you'll focus solely on that. no new figures, no competitions at all. and you’ll switch partners. sunghoon will train with you until you feel comfortable again,” she announced, her voice firm and leaving no room for discussion.

your jaw dropped. out of all the people, she chose to pair you with sunghoon? your brother next to you mirrored your reaction, beginning to protest, but you tuned him out as the world around you fell silent, moving in slow motion as your gaze shifted to sunghoon again. the intensity of his glare and the clenching of his jaw spoke volumes; he wasn't thrilled about the decision either.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

when you arrived at practice the following week, you walked into the large hall with slumped shoulders. your frown deepened as you realized jisung was in fact not there. you had called him the night of the competition to share the news, even though your coach had already informed him. after all, this meant he would also be getting a new partner. you had apologized to him and the two of you had agreed to stay in touch, to not drift further apart as you'd get paired up together again after you'd overcome your struggles.

you approached your coach, who was already waiting. "y/n," she greeted you with a brief but warm smile. "if you'd like, we can go over some feedback from saturday until sunghoon arrives," she offered, and you nodded, though you knew it wasn't really a question – she probably would have done it anyway.

as she began giving feedback on your performance, you heard footsteps approaching. assuming it was sunghoon, you felt your muscles tense slightly, not quite ready to face him as your new partner.

“sunghoon,” your coach paused her feedback and turned to him. “both of you, warm up so we can begin,” she said, receiving a nod from both of you.

you started your usual routine of warm-up exercises and stretching, trying your best to ignore sunghoon and the displeased expression on his face that he didn't even bother trying to hide.

"are you ready to start?" he asked, and when you nodded, he replied dryly "good, cause i want to get this over with."

you sighed to yourself. "listen, i know you're not happy about practicing with me now. i don't want this either. but at least i'm not being a bitch about it. just cause you cannot stand my brother."

"this is not about your brother, y/n. i have to do double the work now, training with haeun and you, just cause you cannot get your shit together," he stated, his tone harsh.

you furrowed your eyebrows. his words were hurtful, but his ego was even more frustrating. "if i remember correctly, you were the one saying that jisung shouldn't be my partner anymore and that you'd never drop me," you reminded him of what he had said a couple of weeks ago.

"so? doesn't mean i want to be your partner," he responded.

"but you are for now," your coach chimed in, "so stop the bickering, both of you. you're not kids anymore. sunghoon, keep your energy for your solo practice and the one with haeun," she added firmly.

after your coach mentioned that you would go through the choreography you had prepared with jisung, both of you began without a word. admittedly, it was impressive to see how quickly sunghoon adapted to each move whenever your coach gave instructions. you knew the routine by heart, but he didn’t – and yet, he effortlessly picked up every one of your coach’s cues and executed them flawlessly.

when it was time for the first lift, a wave of uncertainty washed over you as he placed his hands on your waist. you hesitated for a moment, doubt creeping in, but his grip was firm, offering a sense of reassurance despite your uncertainty. "it will be fine," he whispered quickly, sensing your hesitation. however, as he lifted you up, your body tensed tightly, causing him to lower you back down gently.

your heart raced as you caught your breath, embarrassment flooding in. sunghoon looked at you with an unexpected sense of encouragement, a sharp contrast to his earlier coldness. "let’s try again," he said with an almost reassuring smile. this time, as he lifted you, his steady hold began to ease your nerves. he moved with precision, making sure you were balanced and secure. with each moment in the air, you felt his unwavering focus, which calmed any lingering doubts. while you still felt a hint of uncertainty, the exhilaration mixed with a sense of safety as he brought you back down gently.

feeling like you finally made a bit of progress for the first time in months, you couldn't stop a wide smile from spreading across your lips. sunghoon reciprocated your smile for a moment before returning to his nonchalant demeanor.

after a positive remark from your coach and her request to repeat the choreography, you practiced the moves over and over again. it felt as if the confidence that sunghoon radiated was enough to rub off on you as well.

after sunghoon successfully lifted you for the last move one more time, your coach called an end to your practice, and he lowered you back onto the ice. for a moment, you looked up at him with a soft smile before he slid back slightly to create a bit more space between you.

he cleared his throat. "you're already getting better," he remarked. you nodded slightly. "yes, but those were the easy ones... there's still a long way to go," you replied. he shrugged, "well, at least now you know you're not the problem, but he was."

you bit your lower lip, a sense of guilt washing over you, even though you knew his statement wasn’t entirely true. "you're very sure of yourself," you said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"yeah, because it's the truth. in two hours, you’ve made more progress with me than with him in a week," he responded, his voice casual.

you lowered your gaze, looking at the floor as you quietly admitted, "i don't know why, but you made me feel safe today."

an odd feeling jolted through sunghoon at your words. why did you sound so vulnerable, especially in front of him? why did he suddenly feel the urge to comfort you, wanting to ensure you'd always feel safe? and, god, why was it so damn warm all of a sudden?

he cleared his throat. "just wanna get rid of you quickly," he attempted to sound nonchalant, but a soft smile slipped through.

his remark drew a chuckle from you, prompting you to look up again. it felt like his smile doubled his handsomeness, his sharp features softening, his eyes crinkling just a little at the corners.

just as you were about to say, "i'll see you tomorrow," the familiar sound of skates gliding across the ice interrupted you. haeun entered with a slight smile, ready for her practice with sunghoon. a pang of guilt hit you, knowing sunghoon still had at least four more hours of practice ahead. you gave him a short smile before you quickly turned around and made your way out, fighting the urge to turn back and sneak another glance at him.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

the next days passed in a blur. after classes, you'd go straight to the ice rink, and most of the times, sunghoon would already be there.

you weren’t sure when it happened, but the usual glare he used to give you had softened into a short, yet sincere smile, and it made your heart warm. it was comforting to know he didn’t hate you after all – or at least, he didn’t act like it.

sunghoon was gentle yet firm, encouraging you to push yourself a little more each practice without making you feel too uncomfortable. he'd hold you tight enough to make you feel secure, always letting you down gently when he sensed you were too tense, and asked your coach for breaks when you needed them.

sometimes, when you'd glance around the rink, you'd catch jisung watching from the sidelines, pretending to adjust his skates or talk to your coach, but his gaze stayed fixed on you and sunghoon.

sunghoon noticed too. you could tell by the slight tightening of his grip on your waist, the subtle shift in his stance whenever jisung was around. it irritated him in a way he didn’t quite understand. maybe it was the way jisung looked at you – like he still had some sort of claim on you. sunghoon didn’t say anything about it, but he found himself skating with more purpose when jisung was there, his movements more controlled, his touches just a little more protective. he wasn’t sure why, but every time he saw jisung, something inside him tensed, like he needed to make it clear that he was your partner now.

skating with sunghoon as your partner quickly became routine, faster than you'd expected. though every practice left you utterly exhausted, there was always a pang of sadness when your coach ended the session and sent you home. you told yourself it was just guilt, knowing that sunghoon would still be there practicing with haeun or by himself long after you had already left.

you could tell the two of you had been growing more comfortable around each other, but today’s practice felt different.

sunghoon stood a few feet away, adjusting his skates, his eyes catching yours for a brief second before flicking away. you felt a nervous flutter in your chest, an unfamiliar sensation that made you hesitate for a moment before stepping onto the ice. normally, you’d just go through the motions of practice – his hand guiding yours, his steady voice offering small corrections – but today, every little touch felt different. his hand felt warmer when it grazed yours, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“ready?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, as he held his hand out to you. there was nothing strange in the gesture, yet the simple act of slipping your hand into his felt different – like you were aware of every point where your skin met his. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made your pulse quicken for reasons you didn’t quite want to think about.

you had always thought sunghoon was attractive – that much had been obvious from the start. maybe, you even used to have a bit of a crush on him, but it was the kind of crush based purely on his looks. there was no way you'd ever actually like him. his personality wasn’t for you – he mocked you too much, was too serious, too distant, and he never got along with your brother, which only made things more complicated. whatever interest you had in him had always stayed shallow.

you nodded, focusing on your breathing. your fingers curled around his hand, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn his grip tightened just a little. nothing about it felt out of place, but it lingered, the warmth of his touch seeming to seep into your skin.

sunghoon, on the other hand, felt a slight shift too, though he wasn’t sure what to make of it. guiding you through practice had become second nature, and yet today, every move seemed to require a bit more concentration than usual. there was something about the way your hand fit in his that unsettled him, but he brushed it off.

he convinced himself it was just his body recognizing that the two of you were beginning to understand each other better – that you were becoming a stronger team. yet, deep down, he knew he had never felt this way with haeun throughout all the years he'd practiced with her. he tried to remain his focus on the routine, but every so often, his gaze flickered to you, lingering a second too long before he forced himself to look away.

when it came time for a lift, you braced yourself, ready for the momentary closeness that was part of the routine. but as his arms wrapped around your waist to lift you, his grip felt different – stronger, more careful, like he was holding you not just for the sake of the move but as if he was afraid of letting you go. your breath caught as you steadied yourself, the air around you feeling heavier, more tense. sunghoon's arms lingered around you for just a second longer than necessary, before he let you go and forced his focus back on the routine.

"you okay?" he asked softly.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and quickly looked away. you weren’t sure what was happening, but it was getting harder to ignore the way your skin buzzed in the places his hands had been.

when your coach called out a short break to catch your breaths, you took the opportunity to step back, feeling like you needed space to clear your head. but when sunghoon reached for you again, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, it sent a soft shiver down your spine.

“let’s try again,” he suggested, his voice steady but quieter than usual. you just nodded slightly and continued the practice, trying your best to focus on the routine and shove aside the strange feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

at one point, he stumbled slightly while guiding you through a spin, and you found yourself pressed against his chest. his arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you steady to prevent a fall. for a split second, the familiar panic rose within you. your heart raced as you looked up at him, your faces unnervingly close. the air suddenly felt thick. for a moment, neither of you moved, caught not only in what had happened, but in the unexpected closeness. he noticed the way your eyes had widened slightly, and a pang of guilt tightened in his chest.

“sorry,” he mumbled, the word barely escaping his lips. he didn’t pull away immediately; instead, his thumb brushed softly against your side, as if he hoped to offer some comfort.

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact, and you fought to suppress the whirlwind of feelings. you forced a smile, pretending everything was normal, even though it felt anything but.

“it’s fine,” you whispered, stepping back reluctantly, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin like a ghost. yet the weight of your fears hung in the air between you, unspoken but palpable, while he cursed himself internally for letting his concentration slip.

as the practice wore on, the tension didn’t go away. there were moments when he held you just a little closer than necessary, or when his breath hitched slightly as you twirled too close to him. the routine was the same, but everything else felt different – slower, more deliberate, like you were both aware of something simmering just beneath the surface, but neither of you wanted to face it.

when practice finally ended, you found yourself reluctant to let go. his hand lingered on you from the final pose of the choreography, and even though your coach had dismissed you, neither of you moved. it was as if the end of practice marked the return to reality, and neither of you wanted to step out of the small, intimate bubble you had somehow created.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft and almost hesitant.

you nodded, offering a small smile. “yeah… tomorrow.”

as you left the rink, you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin.

sunghoon watched as you disappeared from the rink, the warmth of your presence still clinging to the edges of his thoughts. after a short break, he moved onto practice with haeun, his body slipping into the familiar rhythm of their routine, their movements synchronized from years of skating together. yet, despite the familiar movements and haeun’s sharp focus, his mind kept drifting back to the moments before – the way your hand had felt in his, the quiet weight of your gaze when you had both hesitated to let go.

he shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung stubbornly. he had never been this distracted before. not with haeun, where everything usually felt automatic, predictable. but now, the way your warmth had stayed with him seemed to disrupt his focus, like a thread pulling his attention in a direction he didn’t quite understand.

he stumbled slightly, just enough for haeun to notice. “everything okay?” she asked, her tone more curious than concerned.

“yeah,” he muttered, forcing a tight smile. “just tired.”

but as they continued through the rest of the routine, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had somehow shifted. god, he couldn't wait to go home, take a long, hot shower, and shake off the happenings of the day.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

throughout the following practices, the tension between you and sunghoon only seemed to deepen. soft touches lingered a little longer each time, and there were stolen glances exchanged whenever you could risk them. most of the time, you’d both quickly look away, but sometimes, your eyes would lock – and something about the way he looked at you made it harder to pull away each time.

there were moments when, as soon as he broke eye contact, your stomach would drop ever so slightly, like the warmth and intimacy disappeared along with his gaze.

it felt like sunghoon began to find small ways to close the distance between you during practice. he’d guide you through spins with his hands resting on your waist, his touch firm but gentle. sometimes, he’d step a little closer than needed, his breath ghosting across your skin, or position himself so your arms brushed as you skated side by side. it was subtle, almost unintentional, but every touch and nearness sent a spark of awareness through you. you swore, once or twice he'd even tried to expand your practice time by 'just wanting to go through it one more time' although everything had worked out perfectly fine.

you still couldn't quite classify the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, the way your heart performed a small jump at each touch, but whatever it was, it became increasingly harder to ignore.

it even started clouding your mind outside of practice. more often than you'd liked to admit, you had found yourself thinking back about one certain look he'd given you, or how the slightest brush of his fingers against your skin had sent a shiver down your spine.

"you like him," your best friend had said, matter-of-factly, after you had mentioned it. but that was ridiculous. there was no way you could like sunghoon. you tried convincing yourself it was just the excitement of finally making progress on the ice again. and even if you did like him – though you definitely didn’t – it wouldn't matter. not with the tension between him and your brother, the way they could barely stand each other. getting involved with sunghoon would feel like a betrayal, a line you couldn’t cross. and yet, the thought nagged at you each time the fuzzy feeling returned.

just like now, standing in front of him after trying a new figure together for the first time. you had learned it with jisung before your injury, but until now, you’d only focused on regaining trust in the basics. you’d been nervous before the first attempt, but as you looked up at sunghoon, his soft smile seemed to melt all your worries away.

“well done,” he praised gently. you noticed the subtle twitch of his hand, like he wanted to reach out and pat your head but held back. your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you swore there was something behind the happiness – a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. you tried to brush it off, but found yourself searching his face, his posture, for clues of whatever it was you couldn’t place.

his shoulders seemed a little more slouched today, his smile not quite as bright, and his skin just a shade paler than usual. biting your lip, you furrowed your brows, a quiet concern creeping in.

“what’s wrong?” sunghoon asked, sensing the thoughts running through your mind.

“are you… are you okay?” you asked hesitantly, unsure if you were offending him.

sunghoon shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “i’m fine,” he said lightly, as if to brush away your concern. it wasn’t entirely convincing, but you didn’t want to push him. so, you nodded, offering a faint smile in return. you forced yourself to accept his answer and let it go, for now, trying to quiet the worry that still tugged at the edges of your mind nevertheless.

over the next few days, it only seemed to get worse. sunghoon’s movements a little less precise, his usually sharp focus seemingly slipping here and there. whenever you asked, he’d brush it off with a smile and insist he was fine.

but the more he shrugged it off, the more that quiet worry in the back of your mind grew, as if it was trying to tell you something would happen. and it did happen. it happened so quickly, you barely had time to process it.

sunghoon’s hands, usually so steady and sure, faltered mid-lift. you felt his grip slip, and for a terrifying second, your balance wavered in the air. instinctively, you tightened your hold, your heart racing with slight panic. it wasn’t like him – he never made mistakes like this. sunghoon was always precise, always in control, and this slip was completely out of character.

your coach shouted, rushing over as sunghoon quickly adjusted, pulling you back down safely, but the moment had already passed, the weight of it settling deep in your chest. you glanced at him, breathless and shaken, catching the flicker of concern in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a tight-lipped smile. there was a hint of guilt there too – he knew this shouldn’t have happened, and he knew you noticed, knew the effect it must have had on you.

"maybe you should take a moment," your coach advised, her voice soft but her eyes stern. sunghoon's gaze was fixated on the ice, but he gave a short nod and slid towards the exit, sitting down on the nearest bench without another word.

you bit the inside of your cheek, a heaviness settling in your heart as you slowly followed him. the sight of him – clearly frustrated – pulled at you. you lingered by the bench for a moment, unsure if taking a seat would be crossing a line. but sunghoon quickly shifted to the side, creating space for you, silently signaling that it was okay to join him.

he kept his eyes on his feet, not daring to look up, the previous incident replaying in his mind.

"don't beat yourself up over that," you tried to soothen his obvious concerns with a soft voice, "it's fine."

"my moves weren't precise today. i already messed up my own elements, and now i put you in danger too," he replied, his voice low, but his frustration clearly evident.

"nothing happened, sunghoon," you said, mustering all your strength to not take his hand in yours and squeeze it comfortingly, "maybe you just need a break? is everything okay? like… in total," you suggested once more, subtly referring to the previous times you had asked about how he was doing, hoping that this time he might finally open up.

but he just nodded, before standing up, "i don't need a break; i need practice," he declared, ending the conversation before it had chance to bloom.

as he stepped back onto the ice, determination etched on his face, you couldn’t help but watch him closely. the way he moved was both graceful and strained, each stride echoing the tension that filled the air. you felt a knot tighten in your stomach as he began to practice the solo elements he had messed up earlier.

your heart raced with a mix of admiration and worry, each jump and spin a reminder of how much he was pushing himself. the intensity in his eyes was unwavering, but beneath it, you could see the shadows of something else lurking.

he attempted a particularly complex jump, the same one that had caused him trouble before. for a brief moment, it looked like he might conquer it, but then his form faltered, and your breath hitched. you saw him hesitate, an unfamiliar flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and before you could call out, he stumbled.

time seemed to slow as you watched, helpless, your heart pounding in your chest. just as quickly as he had leaped into the air, he lost his balance completely. you gasped as he fell, the ice rushing up to meet him, and everything else faded away.

“sunghoon!” the panic surged through you as you rushed forward, the world around you blurring.

kneeling beside him, your hands hovered just above his shoulders, torn between the instinct to touch him and the paralyzing fear that gripped your heart. in that terrifying moment, clarity struck. all those signs he had shrugged off – the weariness in his eyes, the small mistakes he tried so hard to mask – must have been exhaustion from the endless hours of practice.

you felt your worries wash over you in waves again and again, feeling like they would drown you any time, as another realization hit you like a jolt of electricity: you were scared of something happening to him, of losing him. an unfamiliar ache settled deep within you, and it was in that moment that you understood – your best friend had been right all along; you liked him. you liked him in a way that twisted your heart and made your breath catch, and the thought terrified you even more.

“sunghoon, please,” you whispered, desperation coloring your voice as you gently shook him, praying he would respond.

your coach rushed beside you just split seconds later. "give him some space,” she instructed, her tone urgent. you stepped back, watching helplessly as she assessed the situation. you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.

moments felt like hours as you stood there, anxiety filling every inch of your body, until he finally fluttered his eyes open, sending a jolt of hope through you.

"sunghoon?" you asked, your voice slightly breaking, and you realized tears had started running down your face.

he blinked slowly, confusion clouding his gaze as he took a moment to focus on your face. his heart slightly dropped at the sight of you – a mixture of worry and fear written all over your tear-strained face. he opened his mouth, but you replied, before he could even pose the question.

"you fainted," you said, your voice shaking, "i got so scared."

his brows furrowed, guilt flashing in his eyes as he processed your words. “i’m sorry… i didn't mean to worry you,” he said, trying to sit up but clearly still disoriented.

"you can't keep pushing yourself like this," you said lowly, "it's too much, you have to take care of yourself," you tried your best to stay reasonable, to not let all your emotions mingle and take over you completely.

as he looked at you, the weight of everything hung between you like a fragile bridge, and you felt a shift in the air. vulnerability seeped through him, his expression softening as he realized the depth of your worry. he offered a faint smile, before grabbing your hand in his and giving it just the hint of a squeeze, unable to muster more strength.

his touch felt grounding, reassuring, despite the whirlwind of feelings swirling around inside you. for a moment, it felt like everything around you faded away.

"you've been improving so much, and i just wanted to nail the routine," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, and you swore you could hear him adding a quiet "for you."

"you don't have to prove anything, hoon. you're good and you know it. it's okay to take breaks sometimes," you said softly, mindlessly running your thumb over the back of his hand.

sunghoon couldn't surpress a smile at the nickname and the way your soft touch lingered on his hand. "i'll listen to you sooner next time."

after helping him on his feet, your coach dismissed both of you, instructing sunghoon to get some proper rest and a few days off of practice.

the two of you exited the building in silence, not quite ready to let go of the intimate moment you'd shared just a few minutes ago, neither ready to address it, however. you offered to drive him home in his car, not wanting him to go behind the steering wheel so shortly after fainting – and sunghoon had to admit his attempt to reassure you to not worry was only half-hearted. he quickly let you convince him, giving you the keys and navigating you to his place.

as you pulled up to the building, sunghoon shifted in his seat, his gaze drifting toward the door as if contemplating something. once the engine was off, he turned to you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“do you want to... do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered softly, the invitation hanging in the air between you.

you hesitated, glancing at the front door as a wave of uncertainty washed over you. you wanted to, you really did. but then again, you couldn't. what if your brother found out? what would he think?

"um... i'm not sure," you quietly answered, looking down to avoid his eyes. sunghoon’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face, but he quickly masked it. “i get it,” he said, his voice a little softer now. "but... can i ask you something?"

you nodded, curiosity piquing despite your reservations.

"why were you crying earlier?" he hesitantly posed the question.

you furrowed your eyebrows, "i was worried about you, i told you," you replied, trying to remain calm although your heart started to violently pound against your chest.

sunghoon’s gaze softened. “worried about me to the point of crying?” he echoed, as if trying to grasp the weight of your concern.

you hesitated for a moment, before slowly nodding your head yes.

"why?"

a simple question: one word that took you buy surprise, that left your head spinning. how could you possibly explain to him all the thoughts and feelings you’ve experienced over the past few weeks – how you felt when he touched you, or even when he simply looked at you?

sunghoon sensed your hesitation, wondering if he'd crossed a line – made you too uncomfortable. just as he was about to take back the question, you replied.

"because... because i think you mean more to me than i thought." your voice was low, as if embarassed by the confession.

he furrowed his brows, "what do you mean by that?"

you took a deep breath, before starting to blurt out everything that had been on your mind for so long. "honestly, i don't know myself. or at least i didn't, until i saw you fainting and i suddenly felt this strange fear of losing you. and that's when it hit me and i understood that i've been trying to ignore how i feel when you touch me, when we're close or when we just look at each other. but you make it so so hard to ignore it and–"

you interrupted yourself as you felt him taking your smaller hand in his bigger one, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you. only then did you realize all the things you had mindlessly said. "that must have sounded very stupid," you mumbled, your cheeks warming.

sunghoon chuckled softly. "it didn't sound stupid. i'm glad i'm not the only one feeling this way."

his words first brought a rush of surprise, then a flicker of relief, only to be crashed down by a wave of uncertainty. "but... hyuk–"

he squeezed your hand gently, silencing your worries with his touch yet again. "we don't have to figure everything out right now. let's just... take things slow and see where this goes?"

you hesitated, but replied with a nod and a soft smile.

your heart skipped a beat as you noticed him letting his gaze wander from your eyes down to your lips and back up. like magnets, both of you leaned in a little closer, your breath getting stuck in your throat as you felt his own breath fanning your lips.

sunghoon hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting to back to your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. "can i... can i kiss you?"

you felt your heart pick up its pace as you nodded almost shyly.

he leaned in a little more, his lips softly brushing against yours, closing the space between them. the touch was tender, almost hesitant, yet it sent butterflies through your stomach as you reciprocated the gesture, finally letting everything you'd felt throughout the past weeks embrace freely.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

after confessing your feelings, you and sunghoon agreed to take things slow, not wanting to rush into anything complicated. it started with small moments – telling your brother you were meeting up with a friend, sneaking in quick kisses when no one was looking, your heart racing each time. the thrill of being together in secret made everything feel more intense, like something you should be careful with but couldn’t resist. the excitement of new love mixed with the adrenaline of knowing you couldn’t be caught. still, every time you met sunghoon like this, a part of you felt torn, guilt gnawing at you for going behind your brother’s back. but when sunghoon would glance at you with that soft look in his eyes or find your hand when no one was around, it was impossible to stop.

now, after another late practice, the two of you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the rink, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that made your stomach flip. you pulled back, breathless. “we should stop,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “practice is over. someone might see us.”

sunghoon’s hand lingered on the small of your back, tugging you just a little closer. “just a bit longer,” he murmured, eyes filled with something that made it hard to say no. “i don’t care if they see.”

you hesitated, torn between the rush of being with him and the thought of getting caught. “we can’t,” you whispered, even as your body leaned toward him again.

just as you were about to step back, you heard footsteps approaching. before either of you could react, a familiar voice broke the moment.

“hey,” jisung called out, his tone casual.

you quickly turned to face him, heart pounding in your chest. jisung smiled, stepping closer, his arm easily wrapping around you in a friendly hug. “good work today,” he said, holding you close for just a second too long. it was the kind of hug that might’ve seemed normal to anyone else, but you could feel sunghoon tense beside you, his eyes hardening as he watched.

“yeah, thanks,” you replied, doing your best to sound natural, your breath still shaky from moments ago. you gave jisung a quick smile, hoping to cover up the tension.

jisung finally let you go, throwing a glance at sunghoon before turning toward the changing rooms. “you guys deserve your weekend off now,” he said, walking away without a second thought.

as soon as he disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, turning to sunghoon. “that was close,” you whispered, the tension still running high between you.

sunghoon shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “too close,” he muttered, clearly not talking about almost getting caught.

when you got home, you dropped your bag in the hallway without a second thought and headed straight to the kitchen for a glass of water. your brother was sitting at the table, focused on his laptop, but he glanced up as you walked in.

"how was practice?" he asked.

the water nearly caught in your throat, even though his question wasn’t unusual. he always checked in, especially after your injury and now that you were paired with sunghoon.

"uh... it was good. coach said i’ll be ready to work with jisung again soon," you lied, forcing a tight smile.

hyuk mirrored your expression. "sounds good. i have an appointment near the rink on monday, so i can drop you off at practice if you want," he offered. you hesitated, knowing sunghoon was supposed to pick you up – from the bus stop to avoid suspicion – but you nodded. "yeah, that’d be great."

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

the weekend passed in a blur, and on monday, hyuk drove you to practice, the car filled with silence. you glanced out the window, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

when you arrived at the rink, hyuk parked and turned to you with a serious look. "i need to talk to coach about my own practice," he said. "you mind coming in with me?"

“sure,” you replied, trying to sound casual, even as you felt a knot form in your stomach at the serious look he was giving you.

as you stepped inside, the familiar sound of metal on ice surrounded you. hyuk led the way, but as soon as you entered the main rink area, he suddenly stopped, his gaze locking onto something. you followed his line of sight and your heart dropped. there, on the bench, was sunghoon, his back to you.

“sunghoon!” hyuk called, his voice sharp, and you instinctively felt the air thicken around you.

sunghoon turned, surprise flashing across his face before it shifted into something more guarded. hyuk walked closer, pulling out his phone with a swift motion. “what’s this?” he demanded, holding it up for both you and sunghoon to see. on the screen was a photo of you and sunghoon in the familiar corner of the rink, sharing a kiss – captured in a moment you thought was private.

your stomach dropped. “hyuk, I can explain–” you started, panic rising in your chest, but he cut you off, his expression darkening.

“explain what? that you two were kissing?” he snapped, incredulity flooding his voice. “this is messed up, y/n. you know better than this!”

you stumbled over your words, desperate to cover it up. “no, it’s not like that! we were just–”

“yes, it absolutely is like that,” sunghoon suddenly chimed in, standing up with a mix of determination and frustration. he looked at you, his eyes reflecting both anger and a hint of regret, before turning to hyuk. “we're dating.”

you felt your heart drop at his words, a wave of shock crashing over you. “sunghoon, wait–” you tried to chime in, but he shook his head.

“don’t deny it, y/n,” he said firmly, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. he understood your attempt to conceal it, yet he coulnd't help but feel it tugging at his heart a little.

hyuk's expression twisted into a furious scowl. “you two should not be involved at all! you both should have known better!” his voice rose, filled with disbelief and anger.

“hyuk, it’s not like that–” you began again, but your brother cut you off.

“sunghoon’s probably just messing with you to get under my skin,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “you can’t honestly believe he cares about you.”

sunghoon stepped forward, his jaw clenched in frustration, protectiveness surging within him. “not everything is about you, hyuk!" he turned to you, "i'm being genuine, i–", he attempted to reach for your hand, but hyuk was quick to grab sunghoon's wrist, holding it firmly.

"don't fucking touch her," he hissed.

the tension hung thick in the air as the two of them stared each other down, neither willing to back down. you felt the weight of the situation pressing down on you, torn between the anger and hurt radiating from your brother and the fierce protectiveness emanating from sunghoon.

he looked at you, trying to lock your eyes, almost faltering at the overload of emotion they failed to hide, "she deserves better than to feel like she has to hide it," he said to hyuk, yet his gaze never left you. the intensity in his eyes made your heart race, but it only deepened the conflict swirling within you.

“better?” hyuk sneered, his voice low and dangerous. “better than what? better than the guy who will just throw her aside when it’s convenient for him? he doesn’t care about you, y/n.”

“shut up finally!” you snapped, the frustration spilling over.

sunghoon’s grip on your heart tightened as he took a step closer, his voice softening. “y/n, i care about you. i don’t want you to feel ashamed or torn. this is real for me.”

“and that’s what makes this so dangerous,” hyuk interjected, his tone biting. “you don’t see it, do you? you’re getting involved with someone who has every reason to betray you. think about it, y/n. don’t let him mess with your head just because he’s your partner on the ice.”

you felt a surge of emotion, a whirlwind of confusion and anger. the weight of their words pressed heavily on your chest. “hyuk, you need to trust me. i’m not a child!”

“trust you?” hyuk laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “you’re choosing him over your own brother? someone who’s supposed to look out for you?”

“it’s not that simple!” you shouted, the tears threatening to spill over. “you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!”

hyuk’s gaze hardened, his voice lowering to a chilling whisper. “you think this will end well? it never does with him. don’t let him drag you into his mess.”

“i’m not a part in your stupid rivalry or whatever shit!” you retorted, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

hyuk’s expression shifted, caught between anger and concern. he took a breath, as if weighing his words. “i just don’t want to see you hurt. sunghoon isn’t who you think he is.”

with that, he turned sharply and walked away, leaving you in a storm of conflicting emotions. you felt exposed, like you were standing between two forces that wanted to pull you apart.

as your gaze followed hyuk, your heart racing, you spotted jisung leaning against the wall, his presence striking in the silence that followed. he was watching you, a mix of emotions flickering across his face – an apology, a hint of regret. you felt a pang in your heart as he turned away and headed toward the changing room, the weight of everything crashing down around you.

the practice that followed felt awkward and uncomfortable, each glide on the ice a reminder of the tension from earlier. sunghoon sensed your turmoil. he remained soft with you, his gaze filled with understanding. though he wanted to support you, he respected your need for space, accepting your decision to go home alone rather than insisting on taking you.

as days passed, hyuk’s words replayed in your mind, planting seeds of doubt about sunghoon’s intentions. “he’s just playing a game, y/n,” hyuk would say, his tone smooth yet laced with disdain. the more you heard, the more you questioned sunghoon’s sincerity. with each meeting at the rink, you felt an invisible barrier tightening between you, leaving you torn between love and uncertainty.

sunghoon noticed the change, his concern deepening. one evening, he confronted you after practice, his voice gentle at first. “y/n, is everything okay? you seem… different.”

you hesitated, forcing a smile that felt hollow. “i’m fine.”

“you don’t have to pretend with me,” he pressed. “if something's bothering you, just tell me.” he sensed what was about to come, yet it hit him like a punch in the face.

“i’m just... not sure about your intentions,” you admitted, the weight of your own thoughts finally sinking in.

his expression shifted, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “y/n, you can’t think i’m here to hurt you,” he shot back, hurt evident in his eyes. “after everything, how can you doubt me?”

you hesitated, the intensity of his plea hitting hard. “i just… need time,” you murmured.

“time? or are you running away from what’s real?” he challenged, the pain in his voice slicing through you. “you’re shutting me out, choosing to believe him over me.”

you sighed, your mind heavy with thoughts and frustration, and all you wanted was to shut everything out and be alone until it all stopped. "this isn't about you and him..."

"it shouldn't be. it should be about me and you – about us. you're choosing to let him ruin this."

as the weight of his words settled between you, you felt guilt wash over you. he was right. without waiting for a response, he turned away, frustration propelling him to leave. you stood frozen, the space between you widening, regret spreading in your chest as he walked away.

just as you were about to leave the rink, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. hell, you just wanted to finally go home.

jisung stepped forward, shifting nervously on his feet. “y/n,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “can we talk for a second?”

you kept your gaze fixed ahead, avoiding his eyes. “what do you want now?” you replied, not bothering to hide the lack of willingness to talk to anyone right now.

"i have to tell you something." he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your eyes. “i, uh… i was the one who sent the picture to hyuk,” he admitted, the words tumbling out quickly. “i didn’t think it would cause this much trouble. i was just… feeling kinda–” he paused, struggling to find the right words, “jealous? i never wanted it to blow up like this.”

the words felt like a punch to the gut, anger rising within you. “why would you do that?” you asked, hurt lacing your voice.

“please, just listen–”

“you know what, no,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “i don’t want to hear it. you’ve already done enough.” you turned away, the weight of his confession heavy in the air. you walked out of the rink, desperate to finally escape the chaos.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

days after the incident, you hadn't spoken a word to neither of the three. you had asked your coach to take a break from pair skating, telling her you wanted to focus on mastering your solo routines. it was a lie – you just needed space from everything and everyone.

across the rink, hyuk leaned against the barrier, arms crossed and expression unreadable. a few feet further stood sunghoon, who had come for his own practice, a tense silhouette against the bright ice. though they weren’t speaking, hyuk could feel the electric tension in the air between them. his gaze flicked between you and sunghoon, noticing the way sunghoon watched you. there was a softness in his eyes, a longing that tugged at hyuk’s heart.

sunghoon's brows furrowed as you executed a particularly difficult move, his expression a mixture of admiration and concern. each time you stumbled, his body tensed, as if he wanted to rush forward to catch you, but he remained rooted in place. hyuk’s gaze narrowed slightly as he observed this; it was clear that beneath the facade, sunghoon genuinely cared for you.

hyuk watched the interplay between you and the ice, his heart heavy with unspoken words. sunghoon’s intensity was palpable, and it ignited a flicker of frustration within hyuk. he pushed himself away from the barrier, moving toward sunghoon with determination.

“hey,” he called out, his voice cutting through the air. sunghoon turned slightly, his expression shifting from concentration to guardedness. “we need to talk.”

“about what?” sunghoon replied, his tone laced with defiance.

“about y/n,” hyuk said, glancing back to ensure you were still focused on your practice. “i was wrong to come between you two. i don't trust you, but i can see it. you care about her.”

sunghoon’s brows furrowed, a mixture of surprise and frustration washing over his face. "what changed?"

"i’ve watched how you look at her, the way you worry when she struggles. that’s not something you can fake. it’s clear you care more than i thought.”

sunghoon hesitated, his expression softening under hyuk’s scrutiny. “i do care, but it’s complicated. i didn’t mean for things to get so messed up.”

hyuk sighed, hesitantly giving in. "i was the one to mess it up," he admitted.

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the way hyuk's expression softened.

“you know,” hyuk continued, “you should really talk it out with her. she’s been off these past few days. she used to come home with a smile after every practice.” his voice trailed off as he realized the weight of what he’d overlooked in recent weeks. “and if you’re the reason for that smile, then… i suppose i’ll have to accept it, right?”

sunghoon remained silent, unsure if he could truly trust hyuk’s words. yet the thought of you beaming after spending time with him tugged at his heart, igniting a deep desire to keep that smile alive.

"just don't let her down, okay? she deserves to be happy," he said, reaching out to softly pat his shoulder, before walking off.

as you finished your practice, a glance toward the rink’s edge caught your attention. hyuk and sunghoon stood together, an exchange of words passing between them, and you could even see hyuk gently squeezing sunghoon's shoulder. you furrowed your brows. you swore you'd never seen an interaction like this happening.

moments later, you saw sunghoon approaching you, his expression soft yet earnest.

“y/n,” he began, his voice laced with hesitation, “i’m really sorry for everything that happened... i shouldn’t have pressured you or put you in that position.”

you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. “no, it’s my fault,” you replied, your heart racing. “i let hyuk get in my head and i shouldn’t have let that come between us. i was so scared of disappointing him that i lost sight of what really mattered...”

sunghoon stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “i shouldn’t have told him about us like that. i was frustrated, and it felt like i was losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “i never wanted to make you feel trapped or unsure.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you took a breath, feeling the sincerity in his words, and for the first time you openly confessed, “i love you, sunghoon. i don’t want to hide that anymore. i just want us to be okay.”

he nodded, his expression softening further, his heart fluttering from your confession. “i love you too, y/n. and i promise, no matter what, i’ll always fight for us.”

his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, instilling a sense of certainty that made you feel grounded and safe. you stepped closer, minimizing the distance between you, and softly brought your hands to rest on his chest. sunghoon responded by placing his hands on your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, before leaning down to tenderly brush his lips against yours – all out in the open, finally for everyone to see. <3

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

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