#so technically she’s NOT old enough to be my mother

[felassan]

David Gaider on Kieran, under a cut for length:

"CHARACTERS - DAY TWO: Kieran (Technically this is an addendum to yesterday, but I make the rules here so nyah!) Heading into DAI, I had a bite-sized problem on my hands. I knew Morrigan would feature. I also knew we were importing previous choices. So now I had to contend with: the Old God Baby. Here's the thing about honouring previous game choices, from a design perspective: it's a sucker's game. What many fans picture, when you mention it, is divergent *plot* -- the story changes path based on those major choices. How exciting! But you will never be able to deliver divergent plot. You can deliver flavour differences (usually in the form of divergent dialogue), character swaps (character X appears instead of Y), and extra content (such as a side quest) -- but plot branching, particularly the critical path? It's a question of resources, and there's never enough to go around. "Here Lies the Abyss" in DAI was about as good as it gets, and even that was a far cry from how I originally pictured it (hello last-minute insert of Stroud when a DAO Warden import got cut). The Old God Baby was one of the main choices from DAO -- Morrigan has a baby? With the Archdemon's soul?! Most DAO players who flagged that choice surely expected *monumental* consequences. World-shaking consequences! And we talked about it. We did. There were, like, three different designs of the DAI ending where OGB Kieran could cause complete divergence: new path, cutscenes, the whole nine yards. But it wasn't going to happen. It was a decision from *two games ago* that only a small minority (hello telemetry) would even choose. To the rest, they probably neither knew about it nor cared... so how many resources could you invest? To do what? Set up an even bigger divergence for the NEXT game? The other writers acknowledged my anxiety with a grim nod every time it came up, but they had no solutions. Finally, I realized there WAS a solution, and that was changing how I thought about the choice: don't make it about Kieran. The players don't know him, never have. Make it about Morrigan. Thus began a feverish three days where I wrote probably the most complicated scene of my career: Morrigan's reckoning with Flemeth in DAI and the fallout after. Three different versions (OGB Kieran, non-OGB Kieran, and no Kieran), each with branching for other choices (like the Well of Sorrows). I did it all at once. There was no other way to wrap my head around the complexity of it. It was also a tough sell to the team, considering the amount of cinematics work, but they agreed we had to do *something*. And still it felt... underwhelming, insofar as divergence goes. But it was also good. I remember when I first spoke with Claudia, about how this was Morrigan's story. This was about how motherhood had changed her, how she'd grown up. Claudia got a bit teary-eyed. It was a journey she was familiar with, she said. Her first son, Odin, had been born in 2005 not long after DAO came out. And, man, she killed with that performance! Kate, too, but I'll get to her later. Claudia dug down, and that scene where Morrigan tells Flemeth she'll never be the mother Flemeth was to her? That came from someplace very raw. It was devastating to witness in the booth. There were tears all around. Not long after, Claudia called and asked if maybe - just maybe - Odin could play Kieran? He was a bit young (not yet 5, then), but it felt... right? We agreed. Claudia was in the booth, gently coaching him through his lines, and I think that was the first moment I felt I'd done the right thing."

[source thread]

User: "Do you find it an odd choice that Kieran hasn’t been mentioned at all in Veilguard?" David Gaider: "If there’s less reactivity in DATV, I’m unsurprised. Continuing choice from up to 3 games earlier is… unsupportable. Yet DA established the expectation they would so… damned if you do, damned if you don’t?" [source]

User: "EA is one of the biggest game companies ever. I don't think more complex diverging plots are impossible." David Gaider: "Well, if only more writing was all it took. Sadly, it's also cinematics. Art time for all those reappearing characters you probably want to look *just* right. And let's not forget we have to test all those permutations! So I don't disagree with you in spirit, but I don't think it's the answer here." [source]

User: "is there a possibility of future kieran appearances in a book or something similar outside of the games?" David Gaider: "I'd have no way of knowing that." [source]

User: "I’m actually shocked so little people chose the dark ritual. That was basically the main reason Flemeth sent Morrigan with the wardens, no?" David Gaider: "The impression you get of what "most" players do - in almost any game, not just DA - is very different if you're online a lot. Consider here that it's not just the % of DAO players who chose the Dark Ritual, it's the % of DAI players WHO PLAYED DAO and cared to import that choice 5 years later." [source]

User: "Is there anything you wish you had done differently, in hindsight?" David Gaider: "Probably just to not ever do importing choices between games in the first place." [source]

User: "Kieran only existed in my DAI state b/c Morrigan as a mother really appealed to me. I wasn't expecting to be devastated by those scenes 😭 I guess when we complain about lack of consequences from prev choices in DAV we must also ask how MUCH are we willing to pay for those branches to exist?" David Gaider: "That's indeed it. Content directed towards reactivity would have to come from somewhere else. So essentially a shorter game overall for the sake of those hardcore fans who'd import - who would, I imagine, REALLY enjoy that... but it's a tough cost/benefit analysis to make." [source]

User: "mr gaider im gonna keep it real with you if i had to choose between my hof and hawke i would've simply passed away" David Gaider: "Right? That was the ENTIRE idea! I was very excited, and for a while it seemed possible." [source]

User: "This has been a very interesting read but I have to ask why they decided to use Stroud instead of the HoF" David Gaider: "1) Complexity of providing means for a player to build a Warden (which they did in DATV for the Inquisitor). Also spoiled the surprise. 2) We’d have needed to give the Warden a voice. Add these to the cost and it was deemed not worth it." [source]

User: "Genuine question, not a critique - but what made the OGB decision one that couldn't be handwaved as canon no matter what was or wasn't chosen? Leliana and Flemeth being around no matter what come to mind. Was OGB simultaneously too major and too minor of a decision?" David Gaider: "Flemeth and Leliana being alive were easily explainable, and we knew we were doing it even back then. Circumventing the Dark Ritual… that would be too cheap. We did talk about it, but it just felt too dishonest. Too high a price for what we’d get in return." [source]

David Gaider: "If I’d known the Well of Sorrows would only see reactivity in the confrontation with Flemeth, I’d probably have made a much bigger deal of it." [source]

David Gaider: "We could maybe have gotten past the need to "reconstruct" the Warden, much like the Inquisitor was reconstructed in DATV (so I understand), but the need to give the Warden a voice was the final nail. Too potentially disappointing for the very people who'd be excited about it, aside from the cost." [source]

[starlightseraph]

finding out that gillian anderson likes women has been the best part of my week.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Back when I was teaching Japanese college students, I remember escorting some of my students back to their dorms from a burger place one of the other mentors invited them to late at night (he ditched them there and I was mad about it because they didn't know the area well).

While we were walking back, I was expressing my disappointment and saying it was inappropriate for that mentor to invite them out without walking them back since it was late at night and it wasn't a great part of the city, but after a few minutes I apologized to them saying something like "I know most of you are grown adults and I don't want you to think I see you as helpless children, but I do want to make sure you get home safely," and one of them said in the kindest most sincere voice, "We know. You are like a Japanese mother."

And I was just like *voice cracking* "Cool" and walked them the rest of the way back to their dorms, then walked to the bus with my face buried in my hands.

[goodeapple]

words on the page (aemond t. sex pollen pwp o.s.)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : PWP, dubcon- this is sex pollen (obvi) they are technically not fully consenting. might be hatesex but it also might not, uncle/niece incest, a ridiculous amount of orgasms, squirting, restraint, spanking & slapping, and a slighttt breeding kink (srry i couldn't help myself)

word count : 10,000+

note : hope everyone enjoys. ty for all the love, always. likes, reblogs, comments, anything is gas in my tank xx

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“This library is big enough for the both of us, Uncle. You stay on your side, and I, on mine.” Ysilla offers, already working on tuning out the One-Eyed Prince’s mutterings as she gets lost in the sprawling shelves. 

“What if I want a book that’s on your side?” Aemond’s voice echoes up to the grand ceilings from where he must be several rows over, his annoyance clearer than the windows in the Sept. 

Ysilla rolls her eyes so hard she fears they might stick. “Do you not understand the concept of my side and your side?”

“These are all my sides. I grew up in between these stacks- I’m sure the texts at Dragonstone are missing you terribly. Why don't you go back and see if I’m right.” 

That retort stabs at her, the mourning for her home still living on in the thick ball of grief that resides heavily in her heart. It’s been a year since her mother took her rightful place on the Iron Throne, a year since the King had passed, and a year where all members of the Targaryen family had to learn how to live amongst one another once more. Nobody was enjoying it. And there were more days than not that the Princess fantasized of stealing borrowing a boat and sailing back to her beloved pile of rocks. 

“Shouldn’t you be out, oh, I don’t know, swinging a sword or ducking under one? You know, what men do.” It’s childish but Ysilla doesn’t mind stooping lower than her years. Her brothers keep her young and nimble, each one bringing with him a fresh battle of wits and stubbornness.  

He goes silent, blessedly, and she resumes her stroll, picking and plucking titles off the shelves that join the burgeoning pile cradled tight in her arms. Her mind wanders, the endless catalogues of writings whispering their words, lulling her further and further into the scriptural maze. 

Ysilla spots a peculiar text on a shelf taller than her, the aphotic ruby binding and woven gold stitching calling her name. She reaches up, tiptoeing until her feet creak and attempts to hook her finger under the edge of the spine. The old book sticks in place, judging her with a faceless scowl. She grunts, wobbling slightly, pushing forward again and gives it a good strong tug. Too strong, as it flies freely through the air and  Ysilla yelps, jumping to the side to dodge it. Everything goes topsy turvy, her balance lost to her and the rest of her assembled collection clatters to the ground. 

She curses, deaf to the sound of approaching footsteps as she drops to her knees and starts to gather the fallen books. She’s considerate of the older ones, stacking them carefully off to the side of the walkway. The causer of the chaos had landed face down, the text split open as if the ground itself was interested in its contents. Ysilla grasps it gently and turns it over, causing a plume of dust to shift off the pages and billow directly into her face. 

She coughs, sputtering for a breath that isn’t made up of ancient soot. She scrubs at her nose, sniffling and groaning in discomfort as her sinuses burn and her throat grows parched. Her eyelids wrench shut, tears already hot and clumping in her lashes. 

A vice grip in the form of strong fingers finds her arm, and she latches onto them desperately. She’s pulled to her feet, and a downy cloth is pressed tightly into her hand. She pats her face with it, drying her tears and spittle, its perfume of oranges and smoke chasing away the moldered stink clinging to every sense she has. 

“You alright?” Aemond asks cautiously, still holding her elbow steady. Ysilla blinks blearily at him, her nose red at the tip. She nods after a pause, coughing softly into his handkerchief. 

“Couldn’t breathe there for a moment.” She croaks, chuckling weakly before she gently pulls her elbow away. Aemond drops his hold, clasping his arms behind him and taking a step backwards. 

“The library is all yours- I’m going to go lie down.” 

She offers his hanky back, feeling a bit dumb as she does and more than a little embarrassed. Her uncle waves her off, and she skirts around him, careful not to intrude into his space. 

“Niece,” Ysilla turns. Concern is not a look she’s accustomed to seeing on his face, and certainly not when it’s directed at her, but the sight of it sends little tingles through her tummy. “Do you need me to escort you to your room?” 

She smiles dimly, self-conscious in all the ways that turn her cheeks peachy. 

“I think I can manage… thank you, Aemond.” Ysilla curtsies in a silly show of thanks, but he can tell her sentiment is genuine. 

Aemond swallows thickly, bowing his head in acknowledgment, watching her keenly as she shuffles out the doors that lead to the rest of the castle. She never calls him by his name. Always Uncle, and even sometimes My Prince, but the mocking lilt of that one is not lost on him. Aemond though… it’s like he’s hearing a brand new word.  

Shrugging off his worriment, he sighs, squatting down to collect the strewn about books. He inspects them as he does, less so judging and more so learning about his niece’s interests through her chosen reading materials. There’s a collection of songs- one for Drowned Men and one for Northmen that he’s read before. Another about the Lion King, Tommen II Lannister and his adventures in Volantis and, most provocatively, the remaining charred pages of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Aemond holds onto it for longer than the others; she must’ve searched long and hard for it, he’s never even once stumbled across it in here. He tucks it carefully onto a shelf he’ll remember, and thinks of letting Ysilla know where she can find it later. 

Lastly, he comes to the one that sent her into a coughing fit and he regards it carefully. It isn’t smart, but even so, Aemond draws his dagger and nudges at it, angling up the flap so that he can read the title: Potions of Old Valyria. He lifts it too high, trying to see better in the dreary light of dusk and loses his leverage, the cover falling closed and puffing out a small cloud of dust in his direction. He snaps backwards but he’s not fast enough, the grit already coating the slick press of his lips. Aemond spits, growling, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. He winces as his nose stings, the watering in his eye blurring his vision. 

He shoots to his feet, gathering up the massive stack of books and tossing them onto an empty writing desk, kicking away the potion book in juvenile anger. He stalks out of the library, cursing blindly as he retreats to his room. 

The Prince does not read the page of which the dust had danced off of. But if he had, mayhaps he would have rethought the course of his actions that night. 

“Pollen of the flower Turnera diffusa- a specimen of which is contained in this very page- has a curious effect on the indulger. Found growing along the creeks of Honeyholt, symptoms noted are as follows: fever, delirium, lightheadedness, and most notably, a heightened state of arousal. The affected should take caution to whom they keep in their company while under the spell of this love plant.” 

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Aemond shucks off his jerkin, sending it flying across the room carelessly. 

It's still there- the rabid itch under his collar. He stalks to his mirror, tearing up his shirt to check his skin, looking for a bite, a scratch, anything to explain the scorching sting engulfing him in full. Nothing, not even a blemish, mars his pale chest. 

He curses, spinning on his heel and going for his table, seizing the wine pitcher so roughly the lit candles nearby shudder from his haste. He pours a full goblet, the deep burgundy trickle causing his mouth to flood with anticipation. He downs it in several gulps, gasping as he rips the cup away and lets it teeter on the table until it spins out, toppling over emptily. He might as well’ve drank from the Great Sand Sea, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He clutches at his stomach, a sharp shooting pain ripping up his insides. He groans, taking a knee as his legs wobble beneath his weight. 

Fuck, he wonders if it was the book, the dust he breathed in. If Ysilla is as bad off as he is. 

Ysilla. Worry spears through him, bringing with it a healthy dose of clarity. She breathed in more than he did, he’s sure of it. He needs to get her to a maester, lest she’s already staggered out of her own room in search of aid. 

He stumbles to his wall, finding the familiar crease in the stone and pushing. The path into the tunnels is one he knows well and he’s lucky he does, his mind fogging over and his pulse thumping in his temples. He’s never entered her chamber this way of course, so he can’t be sure when he comes to an unknown stone archway that he’s where he needs to be. 

He pushes until he feels the door give way, a slice of light pouring out through the crack. He edges it forward a little more, until he can see enough of the room to confirm it’s not a servant’s quarters. 

“Niece?” Aemond coughs, his tone gruffer than what he’s used to. His throat is arid, greedy for a nectar to soothe it. No one answers, but as he strains his hearing, shuffling feet and rustling bottles comes forth, confirming that someone is inside. 

“Ysilla?” He calls out. Another jolt of agony flares through him and he gasps, startling forward, catching himself on the door and accidentally making it swing open. Aemond stumbles through, colliding with an overstuffed armchair and making it screech terribly across the floor. His head shoots up, and he catches sight of his niece across the room. 

Ysilla wouldn’tve noticed if Vhagar herself trampled through the door. 

She’s… much more undone than she was before. Her curly raven locks, once pinned up and out of her face, spring madly from her head, cloaking her face in a dark flowing curtain. She scurries around the room, mouselike, pressing a wet rag to her throat and then to her forehead, and back again. Twenty or so books are open and strewn about on the long table, looking as if they were caught in a sweeping wind. Long gone are her slippers, and the sleeved pink gown she donned before is abandoned in a silky puddle by the door.

Her chemise, a pale yellow thing with capped sleeves, has gone transparent from the perspiration that has broken out all over her body. It clings to every dip, every curve, shadowing her in a gauzy golden haze. Her bronze nipples tent through the delicate fabric and the thatch of hair over her womanhood matches in color-

Aemond snaps his gaze away, cheeks flaming. 

“Ysilla.” He nearly shouts, stare finding his boots and staying there. 

The woman in question spins around, catching sight of her uncle in the corner of her room, the hidden door she had never had enough courage to use ajar behind him. 

“Aemond… you need to leave.” Her words rumble out of her, like there’s a beast in her belly, roaring through her skin and rattling her bones. “Leave!”

He doesn’t move and Ysilla hurls the rag in his direction.  

“Did you not hear me? I said go!” 

Annoyance chips away at Aemond’s embarrassment. He’s trying to help her, insufferable brat. “You don’t command me, Niece.” He responds, still refusing to look at her. 

She scoffs, happy to channel her discomfort into a much more satisfying emotion. “You sneak into my room, catch me in the middle of undress, and still, you act put out.” Ysilla spits, her temper raising with her temperature.

Gods, she’s miserable. The moment she stepped foot in her bedchamber, her dressings were off, and she drank down water until she felt the urge to spew. It’s as if she can’t catch her breath- she’s so dizzy and her uncle’s sudden company has somehow made it worse. Her belly cramps, and she crosses her legs tightly in search of relief. She cries out, the budding sultriness in her flower springing to life, and wetness coats her thighs in a rush. Gasping, she nearly trips as she collides with her bed’s edge. 

“Ysilla, breathe.” Aemond commands harshly.

His voice is so nice. Has it always been that nice? That soothing? Her snatch gives a happy thrum, her clit fluttering at the memory of his strong grip upon her arm. How he had held her steady in her dizziness, how he had towered over her, so imposing, so encapsulating, making sure she was well. Ysilla gasps, stunned at her body’s wanton reaction. 

“You don’t understand. Please, go.” He’s her uncle- her uncle that doesn’t even like her. This cannot- will not happen. 

“I need to get you to a maester. If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, if you’re feeling it worse, fuck, Ysilla, I need to get you help.”

He needs to stop saying her name like that, in that breathy, strained tone of his. He sounds exerted. He sounds exhausted. He sounds like he’s on the cusp of falling apart. It stokes the fire in her blood. 

“The things I want to do to you… the things I want you to do to me.” She whines quietly, terrified that he’ll hear her. 

A subtle knock-knock at her chamber door quiets them both, and they hold their breath. Again, a knock-knock echoes through, and Ysilla curses the diligence of her ladies. Aemond goes for it, stalking across the room in his usual strutting gait. 

Ysilla panics and rushes forward, latching onto his arm and pulling him to a stop. 

“Aemond, Uncle, please, send them away. I don’t want them to see me like this.” She begs, pleading with him through a glistening gaze. 

Aemond readies his denial, sharp and bitter on his tongue but he loses his voice as he looks at her. He keeps his eye on her face, hyper aware of the press of her nearly naked figure against his side. Her heart shaped face is drawn in a frantic frown, terror rich and vast in her eyes. She smells of the Essos oils in her hair and the coconut oil on her skin, and it all makes his head go a bit fuzzy. 

She squeezes his arm, again, a final silent plea. He nods his assent. Ysilla dashes behind him, slipping deeper into the room, blowing out candles until the bedchamber dims into darkness. She voices a small, urging hum, and Aemond takes his cue and yanks the door open. The visitor, a girl no older than three-and-ten, blinks at him in surprise.

“My Prince,” she curtsies hurriedly and Aemond nods his acceptance, but his face must spell out his impatience because she speaks so fast, her words stumble over one another. “I thought I heard the Princess in distress. I was coming to check on her, to make sure she’s alright.” 

Her eyes dart over his shoulder, her head bobbing to the side as if she were trying to peek in. Aemond moves with her, raising his arm so that it rests above him in the doorway, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. The maid swallows, dropping her eyes in apology.

“The Princess isn’t well- very sick. Keep the other maids away, guards too. She wishes for solitude.” He’s a pushover and he hates it. One look of Ysilla’s beseeching gaze and Aemond gave like a straw bridge. 

“Should I send a maester?” The maid asks worriedly, making to exit down the hall and find help. 

“No!” The young girl jolts to a stop, her eyes wide with alarm. Aemond curses himself, and he speaks softer through gritted teeth. “No, she just needs rest. I’ll see to her, since I’ve already been exposed. I’ll call upon you if I change my mind.” 

The maid eyes him cautiously, but she finally relents, dropping into a curtsy before hurrying down the wall. 

On the other side of the door, Ysilla feels as if she’s going fucking mental. 

She’s balled up her bedsheet, and wedged it between her quivering thighs. The fabric pressed so intimately against her cunt is unforgiving, soaking up her syrupy slick and giving little in return. But the friction along her clit makes her gasp, and it urges on her rutting in dreams of a release so sweet, she could cry. 

The low droll of Aemond’s voice slithers into her ears from across the room, her mind warping the words until he’s whispering to her. What a good girl she is, how desperate she is to find her pleasure, how angry he is that she’s fucking her bed and not him. Ysilla’s eyes shoot open as she hears the squeak of her door, her hopes crashing as she realizes he’s pulling it shut while he’s behind it, not in front of it. 

She collapses forward onto all fours, fisting the furs blanketing her duvet, smothering a broken moan into the softness. Her eyes peel open, her glassy gaze landing on her bedside table. Aemond’s handkerchief is still there- right where she’d left it- the emerald hue of it glowing midnight green in the candlelight. Suddenly, it’s in her grasp, even though she cannot recall moving for it. She presses it to her nose and draws in a shaky breath.

Oh, oh, it smells of him. Citrus and smoke and she’s drooling for it, mouth watering so quickly she has to swallow it down so she doesn’t slobber. She swings her hips forward before rolling backwards, dredging the sodden sheet through her sex. It’s so wet now, the smoothness almost feels like skin. And that’s too much for Ysilla- she can hear him, smell him, but the thought of Aemond in between her legs?- it sends her plummeting off the cliff of desire, her core pulsing vibrantly, pleasure buzzing through her whole body. 

A phantom hand finds the same spot where Aemond had handled her earlier, and rips her upwards. She’s pulled to her knees, still atop the bed, as someone presses up behind her. Ysilla peers over her shoulder, the handsome face of her uncle a welcome sight. He is an apparition appearing from her thoughts alone. He doesn’t even seem real.

Her thoughts are askew with an edge of delirium, her insides purring at his sudden return. Ghoul or not, she will not squander such a golden opportunity. She fists the front of his shirt and drags him in, their mouths joining together harshly. Aemond would be lying if he said he didn’t kiss her back at once. It gets intense. Fast. 

Ysilla melts into his chest, whimpering into his mouth while his grip goes from her elbow to sliding around her, dragging her in closer by her waist. His tongue finds her teeth and she opens up slowly, letting him feel the threat of them, as he slithers in and their tongues touch-

Aemond tears himself away, stumbling backwards, heaving for air and looking at her with a wide eye. Ysilla whimpers, her fantasy failing her, and she slips off the side of the bed to settle on wobbly legs. Her palm goes to press at her abdomen, hoping that the pressure will relieve the burrowing ache. 

They stare at one another, wild animals on alert, a standoff that neither Prince nor Princess can bear to lose. 

Ysilla’s gaze falls to his lips, and Aemond’s to hers. She bites her lip, sucking the meat into her wet, warm mouth before releasing it with a lurid pop. Aemond groans, an audible surrender. 

To Hell with it all. 

They crash into each other like lightning, hands mapping anywhere they can reach. Her body blooms for him, like a flower under the summer sky. He steers them back towards her bed, Ysilla blindly clamoring atop to sit while he stands tall. His touch on her skin has her thighs spreading, opening up and offering herself for his taking. 

“I can’t stop, I can't stop.” He presses kiss after kiss to her mouth, her closeness doing nothing to extinguish the burning in his blood. If anything, she makes it worse, the inferno raging deeper and into his very soul. 

“I don’t want you to stop.” She whines, snaking their legs together and threading her fingers through that beautiful hair of his.

She’ll enjoy this- him. Every inch of Aemond belongs to her tonight. She thinks of drawing the blade from his hip, and carving her name into his chest. Mark him up nice and neat, streak his pale powdery skin red with her desire. Whatever is happening to her- to them- summons something animalistic, something primitive out of the dark parts of their hearts. All tender fantasies of her future husband treating her with such a tame touch are cleaved in half and fed to the hounds. In their place, filthy, feral desires fester and warp her mind until one lone ambition remains: him inside of her, for the rest of their days.

“We don’t even like each other.” Aemond growls between their parting lips. Ysilla slides her way into his mouth, flirting with the sharpness of his teeth, suckling the sweetness out of his tongue. 

“We can’t stand each other.” She affirms, breaking their lips apart, her hands already under his tunic, letting her palms drink in the ridges and rises of his impressive physique. She kisses along the strong edge of his jaw, curling her fingers into clenched claws and rips her way down his chest. Not a blade, but he bloodys all the same. Aemond snarls, catching her by the throat so brutally her teeth clack. His eye pierces through her like a blade, and Ysilla relishes in the pain, his touch upon her skin soothing away her ache.

“Bitch.” He hisses, what little familial respect they harbor for each other crushed under lust and loathing. 

“Prick.” She bites back, grazing at his lip to send her point home. Gods, he’s so close but not close enough. 

Ysilla pulls his hand between her legs- the one not choking her out- and Aemond cups her sex readily. Her heat damn near blisters him, and he grinds his palm into her slick folds, coating his hand in her arousal.

“Yessss…” She hisses in sated victory, her blood pumping thick as her body finally gets a taste of what it's been craving. Even one finger of his is nearly too much as he slips it in, the stretch a tepid burn that only gives way as her body adjusts. 

“You need to be able to take more than that if you want to take my cock, Princess.” He whispers at her lips, already imagining how tight she’ll be around him. He won’t insult her by asking- he knows he’ll be her first. And the thought of that… of taking her maidenhead for his own, being the first man to be inside of her, searing himself into her memory that even time won’t take away… Aemond has to fucking focus. 

“I can take it.” She assures him, head nodding wildly, her thighs splitting open even further. His grip has loosened around her throat, and he strokes where it’s sure to bruise, trying to not grow hot at the vision of his mark marring her body. He hums his approval, letting his middle finger glide forward, her essence enough to ease the way into her hole. 

He scissors them, back and forth, working her pure channel open gently, basking in the silky tensing of her walls. The pained scrunch in her brow has disappeared, giving way to the pleasured furrow of her forehead, her hips beginning to roll up and meet his digits. She grabs ahold of his wrist, stopping his motions, and she pins him in place with a lavender leer. 

“Take off your clothes.” It’s a command, no matter if it is spoken in her soft honeyed voice. 

Aemond loses his shirt and unlatches his belt, tossing it and his sword onto the bench at the foot of her bed. His breeches slide off with Ysilla’s help, her eager fingers untying his laces. He kicks off his boots, not realizing how confined he felt with so many layers hindering him until his skin is bared. She moves backwards, further up her bed and he crawls after her, prowling like a wildcat, covetous sight trained on her. 

The little minx yanks on his elbow, and he crashes into the mattress and suddenly, he’s the one on his back. Aemond lets Ysilla pin his wrists on either side of him, her victorious smile just as comely as the rest of her. Her breasts pillow against his chest, and dammit, she needs to hover above him so he can catch one in his mouth. But she denies him that treat, squeezing his wrists to focus his attention.  

“Don’t move. That’s an order.” His cock twitches from where it’s pressed to her thigh and her lips twitch at his reaction. She kisses his throat, right at the base where his collar bones meet, and her whisper vibrates through to his heart. “Good boy.” 

Ysilla takes her time, voyaging down his body, a traveler on a sought after journey. Her tongue flicks out over each of his nipples, teasing the perked flesh with little swipes of her slick pink muscle. She traces her nose over the jutting contour of his rib cage, counts his muscled abdominals until there’s numbers on both hands, and kisses the scar on his hip, long healed from a tumble off of Vhagar’s saddle when he was just a boy. The fine silver hair trailing down his groin is wispy and it tickles her chin. 

Aemond’s cock is intimidating, even more so as she takes a lick from root to tip. The journey is longer than first guessed, and she thinks he grows even bigger after the swipe of her tongue, the jut of him swaying in the air as more blood thickens him out. The fact that all of that will be stuffed inside of her makes Ysilla shiver, her cunt yearning for the press of his long fingers. 

Fervently, she swallows him down until he greets the back of her throat. The salt of him is jarring but not unwelcome- nothing can be unwelcome about this as Aemond sucks in a ragged breath and fists the sheets. The muscles in his arms strain and bulge, a sight that only incentivises her to keep sucking. 

He’s a thick, velvety weight on her tongue, her mouth full even with inches still to spare. Her drool dribbles down his staff, and her hand wraps around what she cannot swallow. She glides her lips over his length rhythmically, jacking her fist over the rest of him, retreating with a pop to spit on his tip for more lubrication. 

Ysilla has always been one for sweets but this? This is a taste she can find herself hankering for. She suckles on the head, dipping her tongue into his slit, shivering at the sharp burst of his spunk on her taste buds. She dives forward again, gagging around him, the intrusion into her throat a strange feeling she forces herself to adjust to. 

Aemond keeps her hair pushed behind her ears, his thumbs stroking her temples as he fights to not thrust down her throat until she chokes. A familiar tightening in his sack has him voicing the exact opposite of what he wants her to do. 

“Silla, pull off.” She’s on her fucking knees for him, he doesn’t need to defile her like this. Doesn’t need to treat her like a common whore and make her stomach his load. 

She ignores him and he says her name again, more firmly, but she’s such a rebel, swallowing around him once more, letting him feel the constricting vice of her throat. He can’t take it- he gives her what she wishes. 

“Silla, qrugh.” Cursing, he keeps her head still as he empties his balls and fills her belly. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, breathless, breaking the suction and pulls out of her throat. Ysilla coughs, gulping down air and saliva before she gifts him a shiny smile. Aemond scoffs. Unbelievable. 

“You’re a nasty little thing.” He pants out, a compliment he means wholeheartedly. 

She chuckles hoarsely, and her lips are still gooey with his seed. 

“You love it.” 

The urge to fuck her returns tenfold and he sits up, hand at the back of her neck to wrench her up to his mouth. She whimpers, swapping his cum between their tongues. It’s sticky and vulgar and overwhelmingly erotic. 

Ysilla stumbles to her feet, pulling Aemond with her, leading him to the lounge area in front of her hearth. Their mouths remain intertwined, unwilling to part even for a moment. She pushes him into an armchair, the old velvet soft beneath him before following him down, and settling swiftly in his lap. 

“Off.” He demands but he can’t help but be an active partner in his niece’s undressing. Her hands dash to the hem of her shift, gathering up the skirt hurriedly. His hands glide up her body, caressing the naked skin that is revealed to him as she pulls it up and over her head. She’s so sleek with sweat she looks polished- an apple ready to eat, something to be devoured. 

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond asks, not for lack of knowledge but to see how far she wishes to take this. 

Ysilla grins, ducking down and drawing him into an eager kiss. “Whatever you want to do. Just make me feel good.”

Loyal as a hound, Aemond’s mouth goes to her breast, her posture perfectly presenting her chest to him. He takes in as much as he can, greedily sucking and licking until her tender flesh blushes a bright sticky red. He rolls her pert nipple between his teeth, tugging just enough to make Ysilla gasp. She makes pretty sounds- he can’t wait to hear what she’ll sound like as he fucks her stupid. He switches to her other breast, feasting on her supple bosom like he’ll never eat again. His cock bobs upright, his body needing no time to rest, ready and racing to experience the delicacy of her cunt. 

The Princess whines, combing through his tousled hair, tugging on it like she would horse reins. Such a commanding queen she’ll be. 

“Need it, need you.” She whines, swinging her hips lower, searching for the weeping start of his prick.

“Easy, Ysilla.” He warns, even as his thoughts scream to grip her hips and teach her how to ride him, but she’s such a stubborn little dragon and her thoughts may be just as commanding as his. She leans back, reaching between her thighs until she brushes at the head of his cock and steadies him. Lining herself up, she sinks torturously slow, downdowndown every inch until she sits upon his thighs. 

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh… my.”

They both breathe out, blinking away black stars that dance in their vision, the pollen tapping every nerve ending in each of them until they sputter and fizz uncontrollably. 

The discomfort fades for her faster than she’d thought, transforming into a pleasant fullness that she can feel heavily behind her stomach. Ysilla searches for what feels the best, moving faster and faster on Aemond’s lap as each new shift in position guides her further towards the liquid heat in her loins. She settles on swiveling up before dropping back down onto him, riding him like she’s saddled. Hot streaks of exhilaration engulf her insides, every pass of his cock adding to the ecstasy swirling inside of her. The stretch of him, not just from length but from width as well, itches the scratch left behind after the library disaster. Even as she tried to bring herself to pleasure earlier, there was something missing from her peak. Something that’s building, stacking, soaring fast in her belly. That final crest of a wave, ready to crash and drown anything that’s not pure, hot ecstasy-

Before it collapses back into a tidepool. The pitted feeling of falling through the air as you miss a step in the dark settles over her lust, and she jerks. Ysilla’s eyes snap open, her pupils blown so wide Aemond can barely see a ring of amethyst around them. She whines, bouncing on his cock faster, chasing a release she’s not sure she can find. 

“Qybor, kostilus. I can’t cum like this.” Almost to make her point, she circles her hips up, leaving only the head of him kissed by her tight hole before dropping down and taking every inch of him at once. Aemond holds strong to his stamina, refusing to empty inside of his niece so quickly. 

A shame though, he was so enjoying the view. He winds his arms around her hips, keeping her nice and close as he slips them off of the chair and onto the floor. Several furs keep them cushioned from the chilly stones below and he drags a pillow off the loveseat to ease her up on. 

“Turn for me, sweetling.” He maneuvers her onto her belly, his grip finding her hips and shepherding her into position onto her hands and knees.

Aemond stands corrected- this view is nice. The burnished copper of Ysilla’s coloring clashes deliciously with his own pale complexion. Her backside is plush and hefty, budding from her shape in a way that invites his attention. 

Whatever you want to do. Aemond slaps her right cheek, reveling in her sharp gasp, and the way a perfect red welt appears on the smooth skin. He lands another, on the opposite globe, hypnotized by the jiggle of the flesh. He strikes her again because he can, not ignorant to the way his rough treatment has her absolutely dripping down her thighs. Another for good measure, satisfied in the brilliant bruising he’s left behind.

Just make me feel good. He strokes his cock, still slick from her spit and her honey, and lines his head up at her opening. She arches up, dipping down onto her arms, raising her bottom to prop against him. The angle is too good not to take advantage of. Aemond spits, his foamy white saliva dripping viscously into her tight hole and he pushes it inside of her as he strokes forward. 

Ysilla voices her approval of the new position, wiggling back against him as he goes as deep as she’ll take him. He builds a tempo, in out in out, finding a pace that makes her clench impossibly tighter. His sack slaps intensely at her clit, drawing punchy little gasps out of her that he wants to devour. He digs his fingertips into her hips, thumbs fanning out to stroke the luscious bounce of her bottom. He goes to pause, planning on switching his angle so that some strain can be relieved from her spine.

“No! Aemond, stay there, right there, yessss.” Ysilla flails her hand behind her blindly, not stopping her begging until she smacks into his naked torso. Aemond stares down at his niece in confusion, catching sight of her profile, her eyes trained intently on something that is certainly not him. 

He looks up, and catches his reflection staring back at him from across the room. The giant wardrobe mirror is tucked into the corner, and the Gods are good because they're directly in its path, their coupling on display for their viewing pleasure. 

Aemond drops down, blanketing Ysilla with his body, watching his Other do the same. “Oh, I see.” He chuckles, driving into her slowly. 

It’s almost as if they’re watching someone else- surely the couple in the reflection cannot be them. No poise, no manners, not even an ounce of trepidation to be seen. In place, disheveled, howling, rutting animals grind against each other, naked and insouciant in search of their gratification. Aemond enjoys the portrait they make, admiring it so much that he stalls in his thrusting and stills completely inside of Ysilla.

“Aemond, come on.” She whines, moving impatiently against him. “Nākostōbā taoba, making me do all the work.” She mewls, riding down and humping his cock.

Aemond’s trance snaps, and he secures a fistful of her hair, forcing his niece into a backbend. He ignores her yelp, smacking her thigh to halt her gyrations. His lips go to her ear, and this close to her throat, he can hear the lifeblood rushing through her arteries. 

“What was that?” 

“I just thought, unhhh… just thought you would be a bit more… involved in this.” She giggles, fucking laughs even as her bones creak for mercy. It’s harder to breathe this way, and the lightheadedness spurs on her mouth. “Thought you wanted this as badly as I did.” 

Little fucking brat. He laughs too, because it’s funny. Funny because of how right she is- he should be more involved in this, a bit more committed. Ysilla stills at the sound, the audible swallow of her gulping nervously has his cock jumping in interest. Her fear is just as tasty as her willingness. 

He crosses both arms over her chest, his forearms thick bars over her throat and he forces her up, so he can fuck his cock into her belly and watch her tits bounce as he does so. Ysilla’s face contorts into a euphoric mask, her eyes rolling back into her head and her pouty mouth hanging open in slack-jawed pleasure as he pounds her ruthlessly.

“Something on your mind, Princess?” She doesn’t respond, her brain being fucked straight out of her head.

Aemond slaps her face, the sharp crack bringing her back to the present, and back to Aemond fucking her like he owns her. She moans again, her pussy spouting a wash of arousal around his bullying cock. He catches her by the jaw, digging his thumb into the bone and rubbing at the struck flesh of her cheek. His lips are wet at her ear, and she watches him through glossy eyes as he smirks, and bites down on her ear lobe. 

“Answer me, Ysilla.” His niece shouts but Aemond has no sympathy for her. If she can dish it out, she can take it. “You did want this? Or you do want this?” 

He’s searching for the willpower to pull out of her, and put her over his knee to send home his message when she babbles out her acquiescence.

“I want this! Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao!” Valyrian braids through her words without forethought, her focus aimed on Aemond’s cockhead tapping at her womb. 

“Sȳz riña.” She preens at the endearment, throwing her hips back against him frantically. A beautiful toothy smile has broken brightly over her face, Aemond catching sight of it in the mirror before he shatters the grin, nailing a spongy spot inside of her that makes her eyes cross.

“Sooo good, so fucking big, feel you right here.” She tries to gesture to her throat but she ends up digging her nails into the arms caging her in, hanging off of him desperately. Her poor battered cunny is still somehow famished for more, the squelch of his cock moving in and out of her a licentious lyric that lulls both lover’s into a trance. Aemond pulls her even tighter to his front, however possible that may be, and plunges repeatedly into her snug cunt, beating the walls of her swollen so she won’t be able to walk without thinking of him first. 

As if they miss each other, Aemond’s and Ysilla’s eyes meet in the mirror, violent violet and silver steel clashing and melding into one harmonious color. 

Their stares fall lower, where they meet over and over and over again so brutally. Her thighs glisten in the candlelight, her flesh rippling with every thwack of Aemond’s hips. It’s so dirty, so primal, so right. He’s going so deep, he could put a babe in her belly. Just a whisper of that fantasy, of her giving him a child, letting him have such a claim on her breaks her apart. 

She screams, Aemond’s palm smacking over her mouth as her thighs give out, and she sags to the floor. He follows her down, draping himself over her back, still fucking her in earnest, chasing his own blissful breaking point. He finds it, after three more punishing thrusts. But even as his balls release and he feels Ysilla grow slicker as his seed coats her insides until it leaks a white ring from where they’re joined, his cock is still hard and heaving from his body. 

He pulls out and Ysilla sobs at the loss, scrambling on the furs, but her cries disintegrate as she’s flipped onto her back. Aemond slings both of her legs into the crooks of his elbows, yanking her forward so he’s flush to her thighs, her pussy a pretty little jewel winking up at him. His seed oozes a pearl stream from her fluttering hole and he swipes it up with his cock, and it’s as slippery as oil as he bottoms out inside of her. 

Fucking Seven, she’s unreal. “Taking every inch of me… like you were made for this, ñuha pretty līve.”

“Made for you, I think.” Ysilla gasps, ripping at the furs, trying to anchor herself down so she doesn’t burst apart. 

Aemond nips at her chin, doing nothing to quell the smug smile on his niece’s lips. “Careful.” 

Careful for what? She wants to question so badly. Careful on what she voices aloud, even as they speak it in both of their minds? Careful on implying that her cunt will not weep for him anytime he passes by her? Careful to claim that the only place he should be after tonight is right where he is now?

But it is not the time for words of the heart, so she digs her nails into Aemond’s broad shoulders in a gnaw and throws her head back. 

“I’m right there. Yes, Aemond, yes!” 

Oh, is she now? Aemond grins, slowing his thrusts to purposefully watch her eyes shoot open incredulously. 

“Don’t stop! Fuck, why are you stopping?” Ysilla growls, circling her hips up against him, doing her best to fuck him herself. So desperate, so full of unadulterated desire, she cannot find it within herself to be appalled at her own salaciousness. 

“I thought you couldn’t cum like this?” Aemond mocks and oh, it’s fun to play with her. 

Her decorum deserting her, Ysilla lets anger lead her movements and her hand flies at his face to strike him. He catches her easily, still smiling that infuriatingly sexy smirk, and drops a modest kiss on the heel of her palm. She melts, her love bitten lips pouting dramatically. 

“Aemond, ñuha zaldrīzes, please.” He likes when she begs- she can see it in the way his jaw ticks, how his skin flushes, as if his body alights in her prayers to him. Aemond won’t acknowledge it, but somewhere deep in his chest, she’s already wormed her way in. He splits her in half, leaning over her until he can rest his palms by her shoulders, her legs still draped over each of his arms. 

He drags himself out, inch after inch, agonizingly slow before he lurches forward, making her pussy swallow his entire cock. He groans, finding himself burrowed in the valley of her breasts, letting his hips pummel her in an amorous hammering. 

“Scream for me, love.” 

She doesn’t need to be told twice- her lungs finding the air to blurt out,

“Aemond, fucking hell!”

Ysilla goes limp, her thighs butterflying open, giving him full reign to dictate her pleasure. She squirts, a wet spray soaking his abdomen that puddles beneath them. Her whole body heaves, appearing almost pained in euphoria. She’s a holy vision. 

Fuck, he’s losing his mind. “Do that again.” He demands. 

He cups the back of her neck, propping her up until they’re eye to eye. Ysilla’s are lidded, exhaustion heavy weights upon them, but she manages a tiny nod and curves herself upwards for his continued onslaught. 

Completely at his mercy, his to control, Aemond takes full advantage. Dragging her down by the back of her neck, he plunges himself brutally inside of her cunt over and over, again and again. She lies there and takes it like a good girl, witnessing her uncle destroy her in the name of desire until he grants her mercy, and he strokes her pearl with the sharp edge of his thumbnail and she blacks out.

He chokes, sparks shimmering in and out of his vision as she convulses around his cock. He pulls out of her, spurting striping streaks of white onto her belly. He cums so hard, it splashes over her tits and even pools in the hollow of her throat. 

Ysilla moans, coming to, rubbing her fingers over the soiled skin of her stomach, blending their releases together in a filthy film that coats her fingers. She pops one in her mouth, and relishes in the blossoming light brightening once more in Aemond’s lone eye.  

And just as quickly as their relief had come, the satisfaction fizzles out and ravenous blood boiling need takes root once more. 

They groan, barely taking time to catch their breath before they’re on each other again. Their mouths are sloppy, leaving trails of saliva down to their chins and along their throats. Ysilla finds a spot she likes over his pulse point and suckles, her left leg wound tight over his hip, rubbing herself off along the unyielding ridge of the bone. Aemond kneads her arse, an apology for his abuse, rolling the voluptuous flesh in his calloused grip all the while dipping his fingertips in and out of her weeping slit.

They tangle in each other’s webs, so caught up in salt and sin that they don’t realize they’re off the rugs and across the floor until the frigid chill rushes through them. 

It’s uncomfortable- their knees will be bruised by the morrow, scrapes along their backs will sting while in the bath, and a crick won’t leave Ysilla’s neck for half a moon. But the stone cools their overheated skin and together is where they still want to be, so all else falls to the wayside. 

Their mouths have drawn back to each other, Ysilla’s tongue dancing over his back teeth and the roof of his mouth, mapping a place she can only dream of revisiting after tonight. Aemond pulls away and Ysilla’s teeth in his bottom lip scold him for his interruption. He smirks, giving her a departing peck to soothe her sour mood. 

“I need to meet her properly, Princess.” He says with an uncharacteristic amount of mirth, leaning her back as he dips down to her lower body. 

Ysilla is bone-weary and dehydrated, but even she knows that doesn’t make any sense. She cocks her head in confusion, watching him as he settles on his front, his face so close to her center, the hot damp of his breath makes her quiver. 

“Who is her- oh! Oh, Seven Hells, Aemond, fucking please-”

Aemond eats her with a fervor she’s never known, a man starved before being offered the bounty between her legs. Shrill gasps and pitched moans are sounds she thought herself incapable of making, but they sing aloud, her walls stowing them in their stones. 

Her thighs are tight around his head, but the cushioned flesh does nothing to block out her calls of ecstasy. Music to his fucking ears, he slurps, undignified and ravenous, the parched dryness in his throat at last quenched as he swallows down Ysilla’s honey. No wine, no water could ever satisfy him like she does. 

She thrashes about on the unforgiving stone, her nails clawing at the ground so harshly that they chip. He’s sending her into madness, unrelenting in his licking even as she kicks at his sides. She’s too sensitive, it’s too much. 

And then, the realization that he is not only lapping up her arousal but his as well, zings up her spine and has her gushing all over his tongue. 

She can’t control herself anymore. Her worries have faded into nothingness as the night has gone on, as she had bounced on Aemond’s cock and came into his mouth and he into hers, and they’ve drank down one another’s spit and sweat and sex. She’s whimpering and whining, squeaky sounds with no words, only what her voice is capable of making. The pathetic, needy gasps draw Aemond’s attention immediately. He rises, hovering over her, pulling up her knees to frame his hips. He slides himself home, not being able to breathe until he bottoms out, fully planted inside of her. 

She whimpers louder as he faces her, the effects of the potion hitting their last peak. 

“Let me see you. Let me see you.” Ysilla begs, distraught that there’s still something keeping them apart. They should be bare- exposed and raw and free. They’ve already come this far- it’s all or nothing. 

Even with her few words, Aemond understands her completely. He doesn’t give himself time to think, time to let self-consciousness tear and twist him up as he rips off his eyepatch. 

Ysilla sees him- truly sees him- his scar, the jagged split of his brow, the brilliant blue sapphire twinkling a wink at her as it glitters in the low light.  

“You’re so handsome.” And then she cries- big, fat, bulbous tears that spill from the corner of her eyes and streak over her cheeks. 

Aemond wants to comfort her, shush her and stroke her hair. Do all the things he should do with a lover that’s not only a lover, but his kin as well. A sweet girl he remembers always drawing for him on his nameday, sketching pictures of fearsome dragons. And as the years dragged on, they continued to evolve, growing fiercer and more detailed and she would always say the same thing when she gifted it to him: “this year, Uncle, this year you’ll find your match, I know it.” And here he is now, the Queen of the Skies his dragon, as if Ysilla herself had manifested it to life. 

But that was so long ago now that it seems a different lifetime, and Aemond realizes he doesn’t really know his niece. He doesn’t know what she likes and what she doesn’t, and that worries him more than he’s comfortable with. 

“Can’t... take… much… more.” She gulps down a breath after each word. Aemond’s thrusts push so deeply into her guts, that there now seems to be no room for her lungs. He hums, the vibration tickling where they’re pressed chest-to-chest. 

“Yes you can, jorrāelagon. You’ve done so well, taken everything I’ve given you. You’ve made me so proud, sweet girl.” He may not know how to soothe her, but Aemond has a knack for telling someone just what they need to hear. Only with Ysilla, he speaks no falsehoods. He whispers his admiration in her ear, keeping her close by a hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to listen to all of his praises, all the while snaking his hand down between them to pinch at her pearl. 

Small hiccuping gasps couple with her agonized moans; the pride, the pleasure, the pain, all of it an elixir he drinks down his throat as she connects their lips once more, a soft tremble in hers that he soothes with his tongue. They cum together, less intense than their lasts, but still just as satisfying. Aemond spills inside of her, her silken walls milking him for every drop in his fucked out cock. He moans, long and loud into her neck and she peppers his cheek with kisses, her breathing heavy. He collapses, further down on her body so he doesn’t constrict her chest. 

The evening tempo of her breathing beneath his cheek has Aemond focusing on his own, and the two spent lovers take a much needed break to collect themselves. 

Tremors still shake her thighs, the creamy fawn flesh jumping from overstimulation. Aemond presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, a sweet assurance of relief hopefully not far behind their releases. She pets his hair, no energy left to even raise her head. He rises back up to look upon her face, wiping away a stray tear from her lash. She nuzzles into his hand and it all finally feels like enough. 

Until it isn’t. Until the lust fills them up once more, water in a pail, and it overflows and sloshes thickly in their bellies until they’re sick with it. 

Ysilla sobs brokenly, exhausted and at her wits end. Aemond shudders for breath, the pain in his stones throbbing incessantly for relief. They’ll lose their minds if they keep going- chasing an endgame that is unattainable. 

Aemond digs deep, attempting to collect himself and become the man Ysilla needs him to be. He tucks her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles behind him, and rises up to his feet with her draped around him. 

He carries them both on shaky legs, drifting along the wall for support until he rounds the corner to her privy. The golden casted tub is filled halfway with what was once steaming, boiled water but has now grown cool. He swings a leg over the edge, trying not to collapse, Ysilla still wrapped around him like a second skin and settles them both into the pool.

The Princess crumbles, falling to pieces as they’re engulfed by the water. Her heartbeat still thrums from between her legs, her nipples scraping at Aemond’s chest for attention, as if he had not lauded them with his tongue until they were bruised and sore. The undying urge to mate is at her throat, its teeth gnashing at her veins and claws piercing her hips, ushering her to fucklicksuckfuck again and again and again until her brain would be lost to the lust. 

But her body is done- every muscle expended, every limb weighted, every bone crushed to nothing but dust. All she can manage to do is whimper softly from where she’s pressed into her lover’s chest. 

Aemond cups her face, raising her up so that he can look upon her. She’s a sculpture of desire: lips puffy and rubbed red, cheeks flushed, eyes teared and heavy. He did this to her. 

“One more, love. One more and then we’ll stop.” He promises, the need too heavy in his cock, thickening his member until it lies straight up against her stomach. 

She nods stiffly, spreading her thighs until they mirror his hips. He taps the head of himself at her entrance, a gentleman waiting for the lady to make the first move. He doesn’t have to wait long, Ysilla pushing forward and taking his cock in full until their bellies rest flat against each other. She’s as tight as the first time, and the stretch is not lost on her either, her groan equal parts pained and pleased. 

Aemond’s hands are worshiping as he trails down the elegant column of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the bloom of her breast, until he finds the small of her back and hugs her tight. They just dance, slow and steady, rolling their hips together, the water shifting with their union. They rest their foreheads against one another, eyes closed and noses brushing.

Aemond isn’t sure who leans in first- he thinks it may have been him but Ysilla will say the opposite. Their mouths slot together, innocent and vestal and it’s so much less eager than the times before, but it makes it all the more intimate. He moans weakly and she coos, her hands coming to cradle his face, the breaths they share one in the same. Somehow, it’s as if this exposes them more to each other than being joined so sensuously. A simple press of their lips, doing more for them than a thousand slippery tongues or nimble fingers. 

A gentle wash of pleasure, one that raises goosebumps along their arms and makes their breaths hitch is all that they get and then suddenly, finally, the call for gratification quiets and all prince and princess are left with is the drip of water off the edge of the tub. Ysilla sighs heavily, sounding every bit thankful and spent. Aemond takes a breath that feels like his first, and he sags against the resistance at his back. 

Everything is still, weariness seeping into them like ink to parchment. Aemond thinks he could doze off right here, Ysilla a comforting weight atop of him, his manhood still nestled in her center. 

Her palm is gentle on his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a tender sweep that stirs his eyelid to open. She’s beautiful, even in her enervation and he lets himself savor this moment. The world has paused for them, and it will not go on unless they will it to. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She whispers, afraid to shatter the silence. A final brush of her thumb over his bottom lip, softer than a feather, is her parting gift. She unseats herself from him, and even if she’s the one who wants to leave, her cunt does not agree. Her walls grasp at every ridge and vein of his prick, a caress goodbye until at last they part. Ysilla floats backwards, away from him, and the fact that he has an urge to catch her wrist and pull her back until she’s closer than skin terrifies him. 

She curls into a ball at the other side of the tub, an ocean away, and brings her knees to tuck under her chin. She stares at him unflinchingly and he stares back, tiredness glazing over them both. 

Aemond sighs deeply. One of them has to be the first to depart and since his quarters are on the other side of the castle, he begrudges that it is him who will have to make an exit. 

“I should go.”

Ysilla’s face is serene, every drop of willpower left in her battling the urge to slip beneath the water and fade away. She nods, a wooden lift and fall of her head.

“I think that’s best… I’m sure the whole castle knows what we’ve been up to.” 

Why her response stings, he won’t let himself dwell over. Nothing’s changed (everything has changed), they will soon return to their routines and carry on with their lives (neither one of them will be able to think of anything else but each other for the better part of a year). He rises from the water, stepping out and over the tub, reaching for a linen to at least try and make himself decent. 

It is she who catches his wrist in reality, her thin fingers looping over the bones until she surrounds him like shackles. 

“But… maybe…” Her eyes traverse their way down his body, revisiting the spots she had tasted, had bitten, had sucked. Her tongue snakes out, wetting her swollen flesh and he has to think of the night he lost his eye, the stench of manure, anything to keep the blood from rushing to his spent cock. 

“Gods, Aemond, what’s one more bad decision tonight?” She’s not looking for an answer, not out loud, looking deep into his eye instead. Searching for an understanding she’s not sure is there. 

“Stay? With me?” Even after all the carnal ways they’ve explored each other, it’s those three pleading words that send Ysilla’s heart galloping in her chest as she voices them. 

He stares at her, unanswering and still, and dread creeps up her neck in a cold chill. 

“Your chamber is a mess. We both need to eat and drink something other than wine. Not to mention sleep.” Aemond states stonily. Ysilla swallows passed the knot in her throat, sinking deeper into the water. Her fingers release him and she drifts away, in both body and mind. 

Aemond catches her fingers, and he threads his through hers like they’re meant to be there. He rubs small, soothing circles about her knuckles, and he brings them to his mouth on pure instinct, and presses a chaste kiss to the bones. 

“So I best bring you to my room then, to make sure all of that happens, no?” 

Aemond smiles first before Ysilla returns it widely. Hers is the sun appearing from behind a cloud, warmth bathing him, and welcoming him home. 

.

.

.

qrugh . shit

Qybor, kostilus . Uncle, please

Nākostōbā taoba . Weak boy

(I want this!) Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao! . This, this, this, fuck, I do I do. I want you, Gods, I want you!

Sȳz riña . Good girl

ñuha pretty līve . my pretty whore 

ñuha zaldrīzes . my dragon

Jorrāelagon . love

[princessbrunette]

I love stepbro!jj, what about step sis asking jj to help her cum because she just can’t get the write angles :(

HELPING HAND ♡

tryin something new n decided to be less lazy with my writing and presentation. ♡

CW: step-cest, tiny bit of faux-cest if you blink i think ?? this is dark content technically, do not interact if that’s not ur thing. aside from that, usual warnings such as smut and mentions of past family issues. proceed with caution ❀

You loved when JJ came home.

It was simple, something he did everyday — well, most days atleast if he wasn’t off on some grand adventure you’d hear about a few days later, curled up to his side on the couch digging your toes into his thigh and begging him for details.

Anyway, JJ was different when he’d come home. Not like himself in the morning, running around frantically always half way out the door, still pulling up his pants holding the bagel you had put in the toaster between his teeth, ruffling your hair as he passes you as an apology for stealing your breakfast.

JJ when he came home was calmer. Not always super tired, just… done with the day, happy to be home, happy to see you. He was still warm from the sun, despite it having gone down hours ago, and always smelt like salt water still from being in and out the ocean all day. He’d wear a lazy dopey smile, dropping down on the worn leather of the couch beside you, spreading his arms along the back of it.

Today was different, and you wanted to be your usual silly and playful self with him, chatting until it gets late, your mother passed out asleep and his father taking a night shift up on the pier, a job JJ thinks he’s lucky to have talked himself into, yet pleasantly surprised he’s kept it up this long. Nights like these, your chatting would turn to playful wrestling, any excuse to get your hands on eachother and then a few guilty, chaste kisses once he’d inevitably pinned you. You weren’t in your usual mood however.

He hadn’t touched you in a while, not like that anyway. The glossy, pearl pink of your nail had been chipped off from your incessant nibbling, anxious thoughts swirling your mind regarding whether JJ had come to his senses, realising he shouldn’t be helping his little step-sister like this, and he’d rather just pretend it didn’t ever happen. God, had he spoken to someone about it? Been guided out of your needy hands? Your wondering had lead you to pull away slightly, not seek out his help like you so badly wanted to, trying to please yourself the way he did, attempting to remember the exact way he curved his fingers against your squelchy spot.

But your fingers weren’t long like his, and no matter how far you bent your wrist it just wouldn’t crook up to the angle you needed— and you didn’t even wanna get started on your lack of coordination in rubbing your clit at the same time, it was all too much for your hazy little head, and after pretty much working yourself to tears you’d resorted to huffing, pulling up your pyjama shorts and going to sulk on the couch in the dark, room lit up by old Spongebob re-runs.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when JJ came home, and you wasn’t sure why. Well, you were — you were in a foul mood, and him walking through the door all warm and smiley and devastatingly charming just made you throb harder, clenching hard enough that you could crush a fuckin’ walnut in there. His dumb little sleeveless shirts and shorts and backwards red cap smushed over an abundance of sun-bleached hair. He didn’t even try, he just woke up and looked like that. It was twisted. How dare he.

“No ‘hello’? Y’know, you’re too pretty for all that pouting. Wanna talk about it? Talk to Papa J?”

He’s already teasing you, it’s like he knew. He flops down onto the couch next to you, leather covered couch cushions hissing under his weight, stretching himself across the space like he usually did. You wanted to crawl into his lap and rock against his dick and have your tongues wrap around eachother, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your step-brother, you both needed to resist for a painful amount of time before you gave in, to prove to yourselves you were good, normal people. You didn’t see the point, you’d said it once and you still thought it— JJ was just bein’ a good big brother, helping you out when you need him so desperately. However, the denial of your shared feelings had become routine, and if it’s what it took for JJ to give in and help you, you were happy to play ball.

“S’bad JJ, I shouldn’t say. Doesn’t matter anyway.” You all but huff, turning back to the TV. Your lashes flutter a little when he urgently shifts closer, tilting his head trying to gauge your expression. You kind of wanted to smile, you liked that he cared.

“Wh- yes it matters. Is someone bothering you?” Yes. You. A tidal wave of warmth brushes over your arms, stomach curling tightly in on itself at the thought of JJ being protective over you, teaching someone who was being mean to you a lesson. You bite your lip, and when you turn to look at him again he’s closer than he was before, brow creased waiting for you to speak.

You look at him, look at that little cut on his lip. The graze on his cheek. Wonder how it happened. You exhale slowly through your nose, brows furrowing and you blink a few times as you gather your thoughts. He thinks it’s cute when you do that.

“No one is bothering me. I just… I haven’t been able t’do what you did. As good as you did it.” You slowly spell it out, not wanting to say any of the crude terms, or even specifically have to own up to what you wanted. You said a millisecond-long prayer in hoping he would simply understand what you meant, but when you’d lifted your gaze back up to the blonde boy after shyly staring at your chipped nail polish, he was squinting one eye at you, mouth a little gaped.

“Yeah, uh— y’gonna have to be a touch more specific than that, honey. Know I’m a genius, but I ain’t a mind reader.” He leans back into the couch, relaxing once you told him no one was picking on you.

You clench your fist in your lap, looking up at the ceiling in despair as if the answer to your problems was up there. You drop your eyes back to JJ, the cause and true answer to your problem and brace yourself. “I haven’t been able to… touch myself as good as you did it to me. Tried all night Jayj, even started crying ‘cos I couldn’t do it right. Just feel all… empty since we last did it.” Your bottom lip pushes out and you curl your legs up so you could wrap your arms around them, physically making yourself as small as possible seeing as you’d wanted to disappear into the couch in that moment.

For once, JJ is lost for words.

You can’t handle the silence as he stares at you, contemplating his next action. So, you speak again. “Sorry Jayj… j’st need you to do everything for me.” You look so pitiful, it’s sweet in a kicked puppy kind of way. He’d like to consider himself a helpful kinda guy, infact he knew he was— he wouldn’t be in half the shit John B dragged him into every single day if he wasn’t constantly putting his ass on the line to help him. This was no different, this was risky. He could break up a happy family, ruin things for his dad if he got caught doing this. God, he’s such a troublemaker it made him want you more.

“Look,” He speaks, closing his eyes and fixing his hat on his head. He speaks your name softly and it just sounds better on his tongue than anyone else’s. You squish your thighs together, preparing to be shut down. Your face is all pained, and he realises you’ve come to him practically begging him to touch you because you’re hurting without him. His dick jumps in his shorts. “I’ve been tryin’ t’do the right thing. Y’know? S’not easy. When you walk around looking like that. Looking at me like that. You think I haven’t been thinking about the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Was he mad? Your brow creases even more and he thinks you might cry, so he scoots back up to you, draping an arm round you like you’re just a kid who’s being comforted after a scolding. “It’s really that bad?” He tongues at the cut on his lip. You nod, feeling sorry for yourself and he exhales slowly out his nose. He thinks for a bit, and then just stares at you for a while. He think he might even kiss you, but then he speaks. “Lie back.”

You’re happy as a clam when you scoot back on the couch, happy you’re getting some special attention from your step brother. “Oh yeah, all smiles now huh.” He tsks playfully. You lean your back against the armrest, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs just a little. He rubs his hands over his face again in preparation before he turns his body to face you, immediately dropping down his gaze to see the wet patch in your shorts.

“Lord have mercy.” He shakes his head, a hand pressing thoughtlessly to the back of your thigh, spreading you wider. “Whyyyy do you do this to me?” He sighs under his breath, ever so casually pressing a thumb between your clothed folds, fat lips swallowing the fabric of your shorts. You suck in a breath, and release it with a whimper and his eyes leave your crotch to look at you analytically as you do so. “Jesus, alright. Take these off.” he taps the side of your hip, signalling to your shorts and you wriggle out of them, unsure what to do with them so you clutch them between your hands by your stomach. He swipes them from your hold and throws them over his shoulder, busying himself with slotting a couch cushion under your lower back. “Wont be needing those.”

“JJ, might need them incase someone comes in!” You whine, but he ignores you, stroking your thighs and squishing the dough of them, spreading your legs to witness your glossy, honeyed treasure between them.

“If someone comes in, we’re screwed as it is, shorts aren’t gonna save you.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his pants, rock hard already. “Show me what you were doin’ and I’ll uh, I’ll try and teach you, yeah.” The blonde tried to keep his voice level, feeling better about himself if he kept this purely educational, just helping you learn your downstairs a little better.

You resist a whine, face already hot in embarrassment from asking. He watches your painted toes curl into the couch cushion, knees knocking together as you suck on your bottom lip shyly. “It’s okay, c’mon pop ‘em open again. Not like I haven’t seen it all before.” He cooes, coaxing you with a hand on your knee. You spread your legs, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling on the tips, getting them nice and wet. You had to be doing it on purpose, this innocent act wasn’t gonna hold up much longer if you kept staring at him with those sweet doe eyes and pouty lips.

“Started like this…” You lower your fingers with a frustrated pout, dragging them down to your clit and jolting slightly when your fingers brush it, sensitive. JJ practically salivates at the reaction, watching you like a hawk, looming over you. He thinks back to the first time he touched you down there, and you got all choked up because it was too sensitive and you got all overwhelmed, clawing at his hand and saying it was too much. He recalls having to calm you down with kisses and tell you to just relax and let it happen. He’s been with quite a few ladies over time, whether it be at pogue parties, ex flings or FWB’s— none quite as sensitive as you though. None quite lovable as you either. He can’t believe he’s thinking that.

He watches you pant, his coarse fingers stroking your leg whilst you grind away at your clit, focused and letting out sweet little squeaks in response. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? Man, you’re so worth all the trouble.” He speaks quietly, intimately. You felt special when he spoke like this, never a time where JJ isn’t revelling in his bravado, loud and jokey, forever performing to deflect from his issues. You got calm JJ, intimate JJ, your very own.

You were already making a mess of yourself, so it didn’t take long until your fingers were curling down toward your hole, spreading your folds as you pushed them downward. You wasn’t too sure if that was for your pleasure, or for JJ’s view but it made you feel good regardless. You sink a finger in, eyes flitting up to watch your step-brothers reaction, clenching around your single digit when his eyes leave your pussy to look straight into yours. “There y’go.” He hums, and you get to work.

He see’s your frustration around 15 seconds in, when you just can’t get the right angle. You fidget, moving your wrist about, tilting your hips up a little— but after a while all you can do is let out a sad whine, looking to JJ for help. He gives in hilariously fast. “Okay, alright, lemme do it.” But he doesn’t start without gently taking your wrist and bringing your fingers to his mouth, briefly sucking off any remnants of you lingering on your wet fingers. “Real sweet, just like I remember.” He muses, making you trickle out more arousal from the way you clenched around nothing.

His breath catches in his throat when he slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading them and taking the sight of you in. It wasn’t until you spoke up with a pained “Please!” that he swivelled his hand around, fingers pressing against your wanting hole.

“Lemme in, pretty. Thats it, g’nna need you to relax just a little, yeah?” He pushes a finger in and even then you feel the stretch, much bigger than your finger— and you still weren’t used to it. “Thats my girl.” He lets slip, and his eyes flicker to yours guiltily at the sentiment, only to see your brows pinched and jaw slightly agape, ruined cunt fluttering around his finger. “T’aww.” He cooes quietly, returning his eyes to the task at hand.

He lets the ball of his hand smush to your clit so you can grind on it, and at the feeling your knee jerks up a little, letting out a pleased yelp of surprise. “Shh, shh, shh.” His brow creases, a free hand holding your knee to keep you open. “Just take it baby, there you go.” He was really getting into it now, his pupil swallowing his eye, something darker about the way he stared at you in the dim light of the living room. He slides in another finger, and the coil in your stomach is already starting to tighten.

“A-already g’nna cum soon, Jayj!” You whine and he grins like an old happy dog, the brink of a laugh, wide lipped and toothy.

“Thats the point, right?” He teases, but you don’t take him in, eagerly humping your hips up into his hand, small and needy ‘please!’s spilling from your mouth. “What’ja need? I’m right here, babe.” His free hand strokes your waist now, thumb sliding along your skin to soothe you, possibly keep you quiet and calm.

“Closer.” Your lashes flutter, tears welling beneath them making the dark clusters kiss at the corners, bonded by the shimmering drops threatening to fall. “Want you closer.” You’re looking— no, staring at his mouth and he knows what you want specifically. He doesn’t care anymore, what’s a little kissing between step-siblings? Suppose it doesn’t matter when his fingers are buried into your cunt collecting a pearly ring around his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He grits his teeth, fingers going at your more vigorously once he leans over you, simply breathing hot air onto your lips for a moment before pushing his own against yours. You feel the cut on his bottom lip skim yours and instinctively your tongue lulls out to lick it, wanting to taste anything he had to offer. You felt depraved, your shame quickly fleeting as JJ drew you closer to your orgasm. You feel so dirty when you suck on his tongue, just the way he taught you last time, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. God, you wanted him deep in your throat, wanted to taste him everywhere, devour everything he had to offer. How could you go from a naive young girl who knows nothing of intimacy to this little desperate slut all from a few kisses and JJ’s magic fingers (As he so charmingly named them) You were starting to think it was in you all this time.

“Good girl. Can feel it comin’, just gotta let it go n’relax. M’here now.” He groans into your mouth, fingers brushing that soft gooey spot deep in your core making you cry out. He had to pacify you with more kisses, wondering what it would take to get you over that finish line. He stalls, leaving gentle kisses across your jaw as you mewl, trying to find the right words to say. He knew it was words you needed, preening and practically folding in half for him anytime the blonde directed any praise towards you at all, even as simple as a “Good job!” in a day to day basis.

It was risky, but he thought he’d try something kind of sick. Test the waters a little.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t wanna wake up your mom now do you? Probably better off no one sees your big brother helpin’ you get that pretty pussy off, huh?”

You’re clenching so hard it nearly pushes his fingers out. God, you’re both sick.

Just like that, you’re gushing, sweet moans and hiccups swallowed by JJ’s desperate mouth as he silences you by force, letting you ride out that orgasm you so desperately needed. “I know, I know, you’re alright.” He cooes as you do so, dropping kisses in where he can because he know the moment to do so will be gone soon enough, and the guilt will kick in. For now though, he enjoys the moment, enjoys the closeness, and for a second — he can pretend you’re all his, his girl — and not a step-relative. It makes his heart clench.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride ! PJO or Time Travel drarry if you please ? Thank you !!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

Poseidon hadn’t known what to expect, when he’d found Sally near hysterical and their son’s empty room, when he’d gone to the armory and found a sword missing from the armory with comical IOU scratched in it’s place. He had thought Sally’s mortal mind simply did not have an appreciation for scale, that a teenage demigod was far enough from a seven year old one as to appear closer to a god than a mortal.

He'd underestimated Sally. Not the first time. Hopefully the last.

Percy, nearly fully grown, tips his head back and meets his gaze evenly. He understands why Sally mistook them at first glance.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever had a demigod child take after him quite this starkly before.

“Your mother is beside herself.”

Percy winces, pulling a knee to his chest. “Yeah. The Mist is taking care of the mortal stuff, right? No one’s blaming her for anything.”

Poseidon’s lips thin. “No. Your lack of presence is simply being – ignored.”

Demigod children die young all the time. It wouldn’t do for mortal law enforcement to look into it to closely.

“That’s good,” Percy says. “I should call her. I just don’t know what to say.”

“Why did you call me?” he asks, instead of any of the other questions he’s burning to know the answers to. Just meeting him has been enough to answer some of them.

Persephone’s influence lingers around him so powerfully that if he didn’t know better, he’d be questioning if Percy was his son rather than hers.

He resists the urge to ask after the child version of his son. Sally has already said that Percy doesn’t know, and besides, the difference is not as jarring for him as it was for Sally. He has very little to compare him to.

Percy shrugs. It’s insolent and leaves Poseidon wondering what type of relationship they have in the future that Percy is both this easy in his presence and that Poseidon allowed his son to do something this monumentally stupid in the first place.

Then again, with Persephone’s hand in this, it’s likely he had very little say in it.

“You and Mom are the only ones who know who I am,” he says. Percy couldn’t have known that he’d spoken to his mother before calling him, but he supposes that’s irrelevant. He knows his blood. Barring that, he knows his own eyes. “I guess I just – will you look out for them? If something happens to me?”

Poseidon looks over at the cliff’s edge, at the three sleeping children huddled around a dying flame. Athena, his enemy. Hermes, who he’s never called a friend. Zeus, who’s child shouldn’t even exist, although he acknowledges the irony there. “Is she the child of prophecy, then? Is that what all this is about?”

“She’s a child,” Percy says, voice suddenly hard. “They all are. Isn’t that enough?”

Ah. There’s Sally in him.

“Are you not also a child?” he asks gently.

He snorts. “No. Technically, barely, but not really. This isn’t about me.”

Poseidon thinks it is. He doesn’t see how Percy can be this impossible and this powerful and have this not be about him.

He thinks he knows exactly why Percy has traveled to the past. He doubts it was Persephone’s intention, because she knows better than to believe this is a plan that could work, but maybe it doesn’t have to. She’s clever enough to account for Percy’s choices.

Instead of saying any of that, he rests his hand on Percy’s shoulder. He’s gratified when he leans into it. He must not have been too terrible a father. “You are my child.”

“Dad,” he sighs.

Poseidon squeezes before letting go. “Alright. If something happens to you, I’ll look out for your strays.”

“They’re my friends,” he corrects, but Poseidon is already leaving.

Athena’s child is stirring. It would be just like her get to see something she shouldn’t and wreck his son’s plans, foolish as they may be.

[gayerthanevertbh]

widow behind closed doors pt. 1 | n.r

summary: You moved into a Craig's list apartment and met a woman through an online chat. Despite issues with your parents, you felt seen by the woman, the fleeting excitement rushing through your heart as she continues to develop a relationship with you online. However, the owner of the building, Steve Rogers, warns you to avoid the upper floor. You followed his orders, but wonder who lives behind closed doors and most of all, who is the woman behind the phone?

warnings: online dating, slight dark!natasha romanoff, age difference (natasha is 40 while reader is 20,) g!p natasha, manipulative behavior, and smut - 18+ minors dni

notes: not sure if i want to make this a story but this is just in case if i do. this is just the start of the series, this will also be posted on ao3 so let's see how it goes! let me know if you want me to continue it. don't worry, training season chapter two will be posted soon :)

Last month, as you turned nineteen, your mother kicked you out. Naturally, you lived at a friend's house for a short while until you had enough money to rent a new apartment close to your university. The fact is, out of all the websites, Craig's List was the one you used when looking for this apartment complex.

Fairly speaking, the apartment building looked normal—at least from your own vantage point—and had the required utility. Mail from the outside, a laundry facility, and a smoking section. Though you occasionally light one, you do not smoke. Conversely, your friend Julie smoked as if her lungs were not burning. She never listened to your advice about not smoking three times a day.

With a big huff from your lungs, you toppled the last box outside of your chamber. Steve and Wanda were two people who assisted you in getting settled. Grading them for helping you arrange things in your new room, you turned around with a friendly smile.

“Thank you again, Mr. Rogers,” you said as you shook his hand. “This room is pretty big.”

“No one really rents here,” the man replied with a small smile on his face. “It’s the least I can do. You know, especially that you’re a student.”

You chuckled, turning your head away. “Please, I don’t even want to hear about that.”

“How old are you?” Wanda asked with a curious look on her face. 

“I just turned 20 last month,” you said with a pained groan. It is not so ridiculous given your connection with your mother; you did not forget the time she kicked you out of the house. “How about you?”

She smiles. “We’re the same age! If you have time, maybe you could stop by my room. It’s just on the left corner of the building.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both fell into silence until Steve held his hands together, staring at Wanda and then back at you. “Well, you should settle in. If you need anything, I’m just downstairs. You know the number of my apartment, you can just knock at anytime.”

“Steve, should we tell her about N—”

“We also want to inform you not to go to the upper floor,” Steve interrupts Wanda and says Your eyebrows wrinkled as you looked at the girl and saw her covering her face on her shoulder. “We have a friend who can be very... mean. She doesn’t like anyone going to her floor and she’s technically also the owner of this building.”

“Really? Oh,” you huffed, wondering who they were talking about. “Don’t worry, I will not go up there.”

Steve put his hand on your biceps and patted. “Thanks, kiddo. Anyway, just knock on our doors if you need any help.” 

You closed the door and sighed longingly as soon as they left your room. Today was going to be a long day of you sorting every box you had in this room; you would most likely desire take-out after all this chaos. You considered the woman living on the top floor as you were making your bed. What did she look like? When they claimed the woman was peculiar, what did they mean? So many thoughts crossed your head, trying to figure out who the woman was they were talking about. You shrugged, minded your own business, and soon nodded off. 

———

Late at night, you placed an order for a pizza, tried to watch a movie on your laptop, and visited a website none of your friends knew you were first visiting. Almost as if it were Omegle, the service allowed users to communicate with total strangers—and you could add them as friends via chat. Alone, you were eating a slice of pizza and texting a few people from the website. Carl, a male, asked whether he might have coffee with you tomorrow afternoon, but you gently turned him down since you just moved in. When, really, you have no interest in men. You consider them not as a lover but rather as a need.

Though it sounds horrible, that is reality. Men are often cruel, while women can communicate with you through their elegant, luxurious words. You enjoyed the sensation when a woman complements you for not just your appearance but also for the way you talk from your mind. It was not surprising that they adored you for your beauty; sometimes it can feel fantastic, but you wanted to be really understood—not only by appearance. And so, after some time, you were ready to shut your laptop until you noticed an email sign on top left.  

Someone has left you a message. 

You boldly opened the message and found a woman called Natalia messaged. As you went over her message, you grinned.

Natalia: Hey there! Are you new here?

You: no not really lol xD i’ve been using this website since a year ago.

Natalia: Strange :P I never saw you on my suggestions. Do you have an age limit to 40 plus?

You: yeah! i wanted to try something new

Natalia: Hm. Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen you here. Your name is Y/n? Or is that just a nickname? Haha.

You: nope, that’s definitely my name! And is your name not a nickname?

Natalia: Definitely not a nickname :)) 

As you spoke with this woman you could feel your heart beating and your body heating up like it was an oven. Since many people do this, you are simply hoping the conversation stays normal. Otherwise, things could go strange. They only pursue nudes, and you're honestly bored of that. You bit on your lower lip as you considered your response, but she slammed it right into you.

Natalia: How old are you? Are you really 20? ;((

You: yeah... heh. and are you really 40?

Natalia: Yup. It's weird, isn’t it?

You: are u looking for a sugar baby lol

You let out a quiet laugh as you waited for her response. 

Natalia: HAH! No, I’m not. I just really want to talk to someone. Is that bad these days? 

You: not really. i’m just a little traumatized by this website. everyone keeps asking me to send nudes. 

Natalia: I understand; sometimes young women ask me to send some too. So I understand how you feel :)

By the way, are you currently studying?

You: yessss! i study at NYU. :DD 

Natalia: Really?! That’s great! You know, when I was in my 20s, I tried to study there, but I lost all interest. It’s good that you still want to study :)))

Where do you live?

Given that you only connected with this woman online, it's best that you remain mum about your exact location; unfortunately, there are many predators in the world today. Even though it pains you deeply to lie to this woman, you couldn't help but chew on your lower lip as you considered telling a lie. Before you could mention that you lived at this new apartment, a thud on the floor interrupted you. With a quick turn of your head, you strode over to the door and opened it.

From over her shoulder, a woman shot you a lifeless stare, and you felt inadequate. You stepped outside and asked, “A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Grumbling under her breath, the woman made her way to the staircase. She picked up the paper bag and proclaimed, “Who are you supposed to be?”

You gulped down your saliva and muttered, “I’m new here.”

Turning her head away from you, the mysterious woman—who seemed like the most stunning woman you'd ever seen—muttered something in Russian that you couldn't quite decipher. Her boots thudded loudly as she walked upstairs, shaking her head dismissively. The door slams shut, and your body twitches in response. 

The woman was, in fact, very intimidating.

And strange. 

And mean. 

As you shut the door, you sigh and try to comprehend that the woman might have been going through a difficult time. Steve was spot-on from the start: the second floor is not a good place to be. Reason being, you might get booted out if you indulged your curiosity. You sat back down on the bed and swiftly typed back to Natalia, who was waiting for your response; the once-bustling city of New York was now peaceful. You shut the curtains. Somehow, you wish she had been waiting for you.

You: sorry... some mean neighbor was at my door. Lollll

Natalia: It’s okay :)) It’s late there, darling. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? 

She referred to you as "darling" and tossed your head back onto the pillow. You struggle to suppress your scream. As you let out a heavy sigh while you mentally resorted to thoughts of Natalia, completely disregarding the brief encounter you had with the unfamiliar woman just moments before. Having an attraction to older women was undeniable; it was just your personality. With a hint of excitement building inside of you, you snatched your laptop from the foot of the bed and began typing away, taking matters into your own hands.

God, you were such a fool.

You: yeah but i have to finish my pizza before i go to bed!

how about you?

Natalia: Can’t. I have work ;(( 

Talk to me tomorrow, okay? I like this conversation that we are having. ;)) 

Even though you were unhappy that she had to leave, you couldn't help but notice that it was getting close to two in the morning. You wanted to stay up all night, so you sigh and type on your keyboard. 

You: okay! :D gnnn x

Natalia: Goodnight, darling. 

Your mind was at peace with Natalia while you slept, which hasn't happened in a long time. What does she look like when you meet her face to face? Was she attractive? Even though you hadn't laid eyes on her face, you were certain that she was. Despite this, you were hoping to ask about sneak peeks so that you could avoid sleepless nights in the future. However, you recalled that you had met an unknown woman on the internet—a self-assured person. You definitely wouldn't cross paths with her in person.

Right?

yes ik a repost eugh

[darknight3904]

Better Than Revenge

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʙᴏᴏʙ ᴍᴀɴ, ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ ᴅɪᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀꜱʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴀᴛᴇᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ʙᴏꜱꜱ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴀᴄᴋ! ʙʏ ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʀᴏᴅʀɪɢᴏ

Coriolanus was sure he was dreaming. There was no way you had actually shown up to this. But sure enough, there you were shaking hands and accepting hugs from stuffy old Capitol residents like you were their long-lost daughter. He had been trying to get in contact with you for so long now and it had been nothing but silence and being turned away from your family home. The only current information he had on you was that you were skipping university entirely and taking over your mother's position as head of technical operations for the games. Initially, he had thought that meant he might see you during his work with Gaul but you never showed, clearly, you had been stationed elsewhere.

His time in District 12 and whatever had happened between him and Lucy had cleared his head. He had come back with his goals set in his mind and was determined not to fall victim to another girl's spell just because she had a pretty voice. And yet, as he stood across the room from you, he knew that you were going to be trouble for him. What was it you had broken up with him about? He could scarcely remember, that dress you donned tonight was so distracting with its plunging neckline and shimmering fabric, it should be illegal to look that good.

He felt his throat dry up when you began walking towards him. Why were you coming to greet him? Oh right, this was a party about him and his success with his new ideas that would be used in the games in just a matter of weeks.

"Coryo! It's been a while." You beam reaching out to shake his hand

"Yes, it has. I didn't know you would be attending tonight." He said stiffly, feeling your eyes roam across his chosen suit for the evening. Suddenly, he found himself hoping you liked what you saw.

"Well, I'm sure you know I've taken over my mother's company so of course someone would have to come to represent it." You smile

Oh right. That. The soft clicks of cameras went off from somewhere, these photos between Gaul's prodigy and the girl, no woman, who was working to make sure the games would be seen from every angle would surely be published by a news outlet before the evening was over

"Your dress is exquisite." He compliments, trying to ignore the way your chest was taunting him.

"Thank you. I see you're still wearing roses on your lapel, some things don't change do they?" You say, following his stare to your chest.

Busted. You knew he was ogling you.

Coriolanus wanted to move this conversation and brush past the fact that he wanted to tear that damn dress off but he wasn't entirely sure how to reply to a statement like that. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to figure it out since an unwanted interruption cut in.

"I got you that drink you wanted, hon." A man cut in wrapping a meaty arm around your waist

Okay, who the hell was this?

"Oh thank you, I'm so thirsty." You smile and accept the dainty glass.

"Oh Coryo, this is Aesop." You introduce them, "Aesop, this is Cor-"

"Wow, Mr. Snow, I never thought I'd get to meet you! Your work with Dr. Gaul is rumored to be historic." Aesop gushes, cutting you off like he's some desperate fanboy.

Coriolanus finds himself nodding and pretending like Aesop's words mean a lot to him. Instead, Coriolanus lets him vomit his praises while he takes in the newest man who you deem worthy of your affections. He wasn't necessarily bad-looking, with a strong-looking build accompanied by sharp features and dark curly hair, Coriolanus wouldn't dare call him unattractive, in the face at least. Aesop's choice of outfit for tonight though told a different story. It was rather plain, just a simple black suit and a dark blue pocket square to try to add some color while attempting to match your dress which was simply hypnotic compared to that monstrosity of a suit.

"So what's next?"

Aesop was still talking to him? Someone needs to tell him when to stop talking.

"I'm sorry could you repeat your question I wasn't listening." He says honestly

"I was just asking what you had planned for your future. Surely the great Mr. Snow I hear about from my mother isn't just going to stop at being a game maker." Aesop says, clearly curious about those rumors about his possible presidential campaign.

Coriolanus doesn't miss the way his arm, which was once wrapped around your waist, drop so it rested on your hips and his hand was dangerously close to your ass. What a pig. He wishes he could be the one doing that, not the Capitol's worst-dressed man who didn't seem to even be worthy of being here let alone have you on his arm.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see. After all, Snow lands on top." He smirks and Aesop nods.

Aesop doesn't have much to say after that and Coriolanus makes no move to continue the conversation so an awkward silence falls over the conversation. The soft notes of the piano interrupt Coriolanus' judging of Aesop's outfit and he finds himself asking before he can discern whether or not this is a good idea.

"Would you like to dance? For old time's sake."

He doesn't expect you to say yes but you surprise him by placing your drink in Aesop's hands and pressing a kiss to the poorly dressed man's cheek. He doesn't miss the way you whisper something in Aesop's ear before taking his hand so he can lead you to the dance floor.

"I like your new hair. The curls were very nice but this new style makes you look very sophisticated." You say as he leads the dance

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks, genuinely curious as to what game you're playing

"Um, what are you talking about?" You ask a genuine look of surprise on your pretty face.

"You come in here dressed like this, with that....thing hanging off your arm, and you act like nothing is wrong between us and compliment me." He spits, upset that he seems to have been replaced so easily.

"What are you going on about now? You can't mean the breakup you caused, right?" You ask, a smug grin on your face

"I didn't break up with anyone." He defended, his face twisting with anger.

"Did Lucy Gray hit you in the head when you were with her? You seem a bit confused as to who ended our relationship." You say

Did you know what happened in the forest between them? Did you know that he nearly ran off with her and how she disappeared into the trees before he could get her? No, you couldn't possibly, there were no other witnesses other than him and Lucy. Unless that damn Covey of her was spreading rumors. He'd have to look into them soon.

"No, she has nothing to do with this. Where we are now is all on you." He says, stopping the dance, upset that you'd even think of mentioning her. Honestly, why would you even think that he was entangled with her, he was sure you heard the rumors of how they fell out.

"You're joking right. I still have that video evidence of you two kissing if you want to come back to mine and rewatch it, you clearly are not remembering correctly. I don't have any issues reminding you how you hurt me. " You say dropping his hand

"I remember just fine, thank you. I remember perfectly that you're the one who caused our end after you went crazy over something that wasn't even real." He said, upset that you weren't accepting what he was saying.

His eyes widen when you step towards him. You're so close he can smell that fruit-smelling perfume you love so much. From across the room, it might look like two old friends whispering funny secrets to each other.

"If it wasn't real then why did you chase her? I know about your little bribe that got you sent to twelve instead of eight. You can't manipulate me the way you do everyone else, Coryo."

And then you're walking away from him and back into the arms of that Aesop and his ugly fashion decisions. He could barely believe what had just transpired. He hadn't ever had a girl that walked away from him like that, he had thought he had become irresistible to so many, and yet here you were leaving him on the dance floor after insulting him.

Coriolanus certainly had a lot of nerve, you'd give him that. Not only was he completely deluded about what had happened between the two of you but he clearly couldn't accept you moving on from him. Of course, you knew he'd be like this. It had been only a week or so after Dr. Gaul had brought him back from District 12 that he started showing up at your family home, asking your mother, father, and even the maids if you would see him. You had instructed them all to turn him away and yet every time he showed up you'd wait and watch as he walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

You had been right, your Coryo would come running back. You knew that Songbird of his would turn on him eventually. Rumors swirled around the inner circles of the Capitol that she had disappeared or perhaps she was dead. Despite the rumors that came in hushed whispers, you had a gut feeling Coriolanus had something to do with it. Did he scare the poor bird off? Or maybe harm her so she'd never return to Panem? Either way, no one had a clear story on her, but all you knew was that her dulcet voice would never charm Coriolanus again. With Lucy Gray gone, you knew exactly what you wanted, you were going to get Coriolanus Snow back.

Getting him back meaning revenge, of course. Why would any sane person want to get him back romantically?

You started with small things, things you knew would deepen his interest in you again. Some days you deliberately made sure you were in Dr. Gaul's lab talking to the crazy woman when he showed up after his university had ended for the day.

"When did you start working here?" He asks when he sees you in the lab for the first time

"Oh, Dr. Gaul and I are busy coordinating the camera angles and such. It's easier just to work here with her rather than send assistants from my office with information. More direct, you know."

He nods and takes his place at his own desk but you don't miss how he smiles to himself, undoubtedly happy you're here with him.

What a fool he's turned out to be.

Other times you'd make sure to wear red, the same shade as the coat he seemed to love so dearly, and then bump into him as he walked through the Department of War.

"You ought to look where you're walking." He says, after practically body slamming into him.

The force hadn't been enough to move him but you had ended up on the cold ground on your ass. What the hell did they feed him in District 12? A brick wall? No man should be that sturdy.

"Right, sorry about that." You smile taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet

You feel Coriolanus' eyes roam your outfit choice. A white button down paired with a deep red pencil skirt and tall heels, you must've looked good because he didn't say much and let you do the talking as you walked to Gaul's lab together, not letting go of his hand.

The cherry on top though, had to be the day you wore a low-cut shirt to a meeting about this year's games. You knew what made that boy tick and sure enough, his eyes were locked on your chest for the entire presentation on the new audio systems you were planning to get installed in the arena. He really hasn't changed much, has he?

"What are you doing after this?" He whispered next to you as Gaul displayed photos of whatever new terrors she had planned for this year's Tributes.

"Nothing interesting. I was planning on eating dinner and then perhaps taking a long bath." You say honestly

"Want to eat dinner with me?" He asked, a grin spread across his face

There was that boyish charm that had convinced you to enter a relationship in the first place.

"Sure. As long as you aren't the one cooking." You smile, knowing he was the worst chef in all of Panem.

Coriolanus stifles a laugh, which he tries to disguise as a cough when Dr. Gaul looks at him mid-sentence about the reproductive organs of whatever mutt she had drummed up.

"Oh trust me, I won't be. There's a nice place a couple of blocks away." He says

"It's a date." You smile

Coriolanus wasn't lying when he said the restaurant was nice. Pretty white tablecloths adorned the tables along with candles and delicate-looking roses atop each of them. A huge crystal chandelier was the real eye-catcher though, you loved the way it glimmered in the light.

"You know I was joking when I said this was a date, Coryo." You say as you wait for the hostess to help the man in front of you.

"Why? I'd love to go on another date with you." He smiles, bumping his shoulder with yours

"Right because our last stab at a relationship went so well." You roll your eyes

"I personally think we worked well together." He said confidently

"You're joking, right? You literally called me insane." You remind him

"Look, I don't want to fight. Let's just have a nice meal, okay?" He says, not denying his actions for once

"Yeah, okay." You agree, not missing the way his eyes roll.

The hostess is a bit overly eager to seat you both, she gushes over Coriolanus' coat and how sharp it makes him look, taking special care to not even spare a glance at you. Despite your annoyance, you don't miss how Coriolanus eats the attention up and flirts right back despite just proclaiming how he wants to go on another date with you. Honestly, where does this man even get the nerve?

"So what's good here?" You ask when she finally leaves but not until after she complimented his eyes and hair.

"You haven't been here? I come here often, the chicken dish they serve is particularly wonderful." He says, pretending like he wasn't interested in her.

"No, I haven't been here. Some of us work instead of spending their money on fancy chicken." You roll your eyes at his posh tone.

"Alright, sorry. Don't get all crazy on me again." He huffs, hiding his face behind his menu, pretending to stare at it when it only had 3 options on it.

Silence settles over the table as you pretend to weigh your options like you aren't going to take his recommendation and get the chicken. As you sit there and pretend to look at your menu, you glance at him and his perfect hair. His face is just as you remember it although it was a tad bit more stern than it was before he was sent to District 12. Whatever Lucy Gray did to him had sent him spiraling that was certain. A portly-looking man comes up to your table and pours you both glasses of wine before opening his mouth to speak.

"Mr. Snow, I am the manager of this restaurant and I'd like to personally extend a warm welcome to you and your guest tonight. If there's anything you need, please ask. You as well, ma'am."

You smile politely and nod as Coriolanus thanks the man and shakes his hand.

"You know this could be your life all the time if you wanted to give the two of us a try again." He says after dismissing the manager.

"What do you mean?" You ask confused, he already knew you had money of your own, definitely enough to attend a restaurant like this, it just wasn't your personal style.

"You'd never have to work again with me at your side. I'm sure you've heard that I'm planning to run for the presidency soon. I'm the favored candidate as well." He says confidently, reaching out so that your hands are linked across the table

"What makes you think that I would want to never work again. I enjoy running my company. It's my mother's blood sweat and tears that went into it." You defend, watching how his thumbs run over the backs of your hands. To anyone else, this might look like a romantic conversation between lovers

"I'm just saying you could be the First Lady of Panem one day with me and you'd never want for anything else. All you'd ever have to do is sit by my side." He smiles, almost kindly at you

"So you want to lock me up in some big house somewhere, just for yourself." You say, seeing through his honey-coated words

"If you're not interested then why the hell did you even accept my invitation to come here? Why have you been popping into Gaul's lab when I'm there, and don't think I haven't noticed that low-cut shirt of yours. Are you into parading yourself around like a common whore for everyone else to see? What would Aesop think?" He suddenly snaps, harshly grabbing onto your hands and squeezing.

There he was, the man of the hour. This is who Coriolanus Snow truly was, not whatever charming front he liked to wear around so many, including you. You smiled, that front, the wall he had built oh so perfectly, brick by brick had crumbled and the snake had finally come out to play.

"You think I'm a whore? How sweet of you, Coryo. You should know I love pet names in a relationship, that's why Aesop calls me hon." You say not blinking an eye as his nails dig into your skin.

You can tell your reaction isn't what he had planned because he recoils slightly and the pressure in your hands drops just a bit.

"If you weren't interested in me then why have you been acting like...some love-struck teen the past few weeks? Why the... eye-catching shirt today for a business meeting? You knew I was still interested in you so why are you rejecting me now?" He asks, clearly genuinely upset and curious

"Oh come on, Coryo I thought it would be obvious." You smirk

"Well, it isn't. And, you should know I hate lies now , so how about we agree to not lie to each other." He says, in desperate need of your answer.

You nod, and he releases your hands, satisfied with your submission

"Coryo, the reason I did all those things is quite obvious in fact, I'm sure that even little Lucy Gray would've been able to tell the reasons behind my actions."

You want to laugh at the way he squirms in his fancy chair when her name falls from your lips. While you once viewed her as some little homewrecker, you now saw her as an ally. The perfect ally to shatter this man's fragile ego. Whatever she had done to him, she got him good. Now, all you had to do was finish the job.

"You see, Coriolanus, I'm honestly surprised you didn't realize sooner, given you're so good at it yourself, by the way, don't think I don't know what really happened to Dean Highbottom or Sejanus Plinth. I know what you are, Coryo. Your sweet seductive words and pretty face can only get you so far." You let a smile stretch across your face, you were truly enjoying the climax of this game, "The reason behind my actions and my pretty shirt that you've been staring down all day and enjoying is simple really, it's just a little revenge. Revenge for how you made me feel when you went running off with Lucy Gray. It's revenge for whatever you may or may not have done to her in the forest of District 12. It's as plain and as simple as just a girl getting revenge on a past lover."

You stand from your seat and watch Coriolanus' eyes widen he finally realizes that you had been stringing him on for weeks ever since that party. You want to laugh at the way his hands had balled up into fists and his face reddened. Perhaps he'd start crying. Now that would be funny.

"Why?" He asks, unwilling to meet your eyes

"Why? Because it was fun of course. I've got my sweet revenge on a man who thought he was oh-so untouchable and you're feeling what I felt when you ran off with your Songbird. .I hope you have a wonderful evening, Coriolanus, " You explain smoothly, leaning down so your lips brush his ear, "See you in the lab tomorrow. I'll make sure to wear a shirt you'll like. "

You turn and gather your own belongings, a wide smile stretched across your face as you left him at that table. That shaken look that adorned Coriolanus' pretty face made one thing clear: you had got him back for every inch of pain he had ever caused you and Lucy Gray Baird. As you walked out of the door of that fancy restaurant he loved so much, one thought rang clear in your head, there truly was nothing better than revenge.

Part 3

Guys imagine being Coryo in this fic. First, you get dumped by your gf bc of your situationship. Then your situationship falls apart and you think you might be able to get back with your ex. So, you return home and think your ex wants you again since they're sending out signals, only to find out they've been leading you on for funsies. He's going through it.

Read the teaser for it here

If you want more Coryo content check out my masterlist. I plan to possibly release It Burns For You Part 3 on either December 3rd or 4th so stay tuned!

Taglist:

@daenerysqueenofhearts @minaxcarter

@superchatnoir07 @readz4u @darktrashsoulbear @prettyinsatiable

@angeljcca @katherines-imagines @coryoskywalker @jackchampionwhore @lauriesluver @loveangela1556

@sainzlover @snapcracklen @juliesjar @alexameliamg

@sadanimethots-blog @2008tillthen13 @f1rodrigo @dylanswifeyp

@junefoster @miglielia @cosmicgyral @jenniquinn @enkimorphe

@yungluv-com @whosthis-posts @lokidala @mrsjobarnes @dakotali

@lucy284 @lacysversion @wpdarlingpan @sterredem @unclecrunkle @fangirl-ehatt @in-luvaisis @justabritishgirlx@nicksolemnlyswears @darlingisntit@lunampacheco @just-a-pink-lady@ilovechickenwings @bubblegumholland @pandapanda698 @anneliese500 @superb-icarus @user556677889900 @fauxraven @clintsupremacy @phiniology @dear-bunnyboo @ghostlycrystobalove

[daycourtofficial]

One single thread of gold tied me to you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 6.2k | Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, piv, foodplay (chocolate), oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: After a century of waiting, Eris and his mate finally have a few days to themselves to accept the mating bond.

Author's note: this is technically part of my gingerfucker series but it can be read as a standalone. Big thanks to @basketoffish for help with plotting the idea for it and for helping me edit ❤️ The people have been frothing and yearning for this and who am I deny such want any longer?

Eris never had good timing. Born too soon, bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelties. Born into a war he was too young to fight in, but too old to stay at home. 

All of his poor timing was worth it for this perfect opportunity. Beron would be away for three days and three nights to improve relations with Tarquin, the newest High Lord of the Summer Court. Beron went alone - he perceived it as much more intimidating to go alone (perhaps inspired by Tamlin’s appearance in the High Lord’s meeting a few years ago, winnowing in completely unaccompanied). Beron failed to recognize Tamlin’s appearance was much bolder - he knew he would face scrutiny, but still made an appearance without anyone at his side. Beron merely did it because he wanted to look more intimidating.

Nonetheless, Eris was able to send word to you with enough time for you to rearrange your royal appearances to carve out this time with him - an entire three day span, just the two of you. Three days felt like a lifetime when the two of you were only able to schedule hour-long secret meetings.

Once, in a desperate bid just to have your scent on him, you two had met for a total of twenty minutes.

Your rendezvous were often short, full of imminent risk and danger of being caught. Today felt like a blessing from the Mother, as if she were granting her star crossed lovers a vacation, a peek into what life could be like - what life will be like one day.

You two just had to be patient.

Even an entire court away, Beron would know someone from the Night Court was on his land. Perhaps not immediately, but he would know before your three days were over. So the two of you met in the Winter Court, in a cabin you were gifted a long, long time ago. A cabin you’ve gone to on occasion over the years, whenever you needed to get away and be alone. You had set the trap perfectly for your family - you were getting into petty squabbles the entire week, picking fights with Cassian and Mor left and right that left the two of them reeling with annoyance.

Your brother tired of it quite quickly, clocking it for what he thought it was. 

“Perhaps you should spend a weekend away, star.”

His tone was full of concern, for this was how you always were before retreating to your hidden cabin. Irritable, crabby, unable to have decent conversation with anyone without leading them into a spiral of anger.

“I’m fine,” you reply, intentionally clipping the words to make yourself seem in a much worse state than you were. “Besides, I have some scheduled meetings this weekend.”

Rhys nods, “Feyre has agreed to take over any duties you have that can’t be rescheduled.”

You perked up at that, feeling a little bad at the generosity of his mate. You hadn’t felt easy about this plan - preying upon your family to get what you wanted wasn’t a regular occurrence for you. 

But you refused to let any negative feelings about what you were doing get in the way of seeing your mate.

“Are you sure, Rhys?”

He waves a hand, “Go, please only return once you feel rested and headache-free. Cassian is quite adept at giving migraines.”

You smile, “so no one will bother me?”

He sighs at your continued questioning, “no, star. I think we’d be too afraid to bother you, except for Amren. And she’s in Summer for who knows how long.”

He stands up, crossing the room to you, his long legs practically gliding across the floor. He wraps you in his arms, squeezing you tightly before kissing you on the top of your head. He gently sways the two of you as you wrap your arms around him.

“Thanks, Rhys.”

He lays his head on top of your own, “just send word if you’ll be gone longer than a week. I just want to know you’re alive out there.”

This cabin was a frequent rendezvous point for the two of you, much cozier than the large clearings and forests you two otherwise frequent. The cabin was more ideal, however Eris couldn’t deny how incredible it felt to be inside of you as he leaned you up against various trees in the forest, the leaves crunching beneath his boots as he thrusted over and over into you.

His cock twitched at the thought as he walked towards the front door of the cabin. The door groaned slightly as he entered, marking his entrance. He felt the slight magical barrier ripple as he passed the threshold. He shut the door behind him, taking in the small, two bedroom cabin before him. 

The place was quaint and cozy, an insult he would use to describe Rhysand’s absurdly large and ornate homes, but for you it was a testament to how infectious the comfort you radiated was.

It permeated every surface - the walls, covered in various portraits and landscape paintings, along with shelves of books and trinkets.

His scent was stale from the last time he was here, but yours was fresh, as was the smell of some delicious meats and fresh breads. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door, catching a glimpse of you as you pittered about the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself a moment to think of what his life could be like if the two of you were ordinary fae. 

He would come home from whatever job he had, perhaps a scholar of some kind, leaving at the same time every day to come home to his mate. 

You two would clean your house together, bickering over your inability in any universe to put dirty socks in the hamper, and how in every universe feet would continue to make Eris shudder in disgust. In any other life, he would be thrilled to experience monotony with you.

But he’s not in another life, one of openness and free-flowing adoration, one free of constant plotting and scheming, earning favors wherever he can. He’s in this one - the reality where no one knows about the two of you, because once they do it will become an inter-court political nightmare. It is a life of stolen glances, hidden messages, and secret meetings under the moonlight, but it is a life that belongs to him, when for so long his life was not his own.

Eris would love you in all lives, your soul reaching to him in every iteration and reincarnation of the two of you. If the two of you were nothing but bacteria living on the same organism’s skin, he would find you. He would know it was you, no matter what shade of organism you wore.

The bond hums in your chest, tugging you to look towards the door where you know Eris is standing and watching. You continue the task at hand, not wanting anything to miss your notice. The bond deep inside of you grows more and more insistent, screaming at you to smell him, taste him, feel him, here, here, here. He’s here, in your house, and you need to look, look, look. 

You let Eris come to you, just as you always had, just as you always will. You’re slicing bread, placing the pieces in the bottom of the bowls when the smell of petrichor and caramel hits your nose, a warm presence at your back. 

“Good evening, my fox.” 

His face burrows into your neck at the nickname, melting into everything that was you. His arms wrapped around you, hands meeting yours. His fingers pull the knife from your grip, gently placing it down on the cutting board.

“What are you doing, my evening star?” His voice is purposefully low in your ear, causing goosebumps to trail down your neck, his hands warming your fingers. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

His soft chuckle warms your chest, the bond constricting around your heart at his amusement.

“Are you cooking?”

“Yes, Er.”

“I’m surprised your wraiths didn’t prepare anything for you.”

“They did,” you hum, turning in his arms, his amber eyes meeting yours, not quite certain of what they’re seeing.

His hands meet your hips, his touch warm on your skin, and you circle your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the root.

He hums at your touch, his face swooping down to kiss your forehead. 

You look up at him under your eyelashes, his nose and cheeks littered with freckles, mapping out where home was. You point your head in the direction of two large picnic baskets, one of which was opened for Eris to see various jars of jams and breads.

“Why would you-” his words fall short, his thoughts racing through his mind. They stream by in words and bits of phrases, but no completed thoughts make their way through the whirl and swirl of mate, food, and bond.

He short circuits, not quite grasping what you’re getting at.

“I have never gotten to cook for you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

His eye twitches, still not understanding.

“You’re cooking… for me?” His words come out slow and uncertain, as if the mere concept of someone choosing to do something like this was absolutely foreign to him. You nod slowly, not used to seeing Eris so incapable of understanding. 

“But if you-“

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll-“ 

“Yes.”

“Are you-“

“Yes.”

He stills, his thumb lightly brushing against your hip. Your eyes are open and bright, wanting to convey to him the certainty you felt. You lightly tug on the bond connecting the two of you and he rubs his chest at the feeling.

It’s quiet as the snow falls outside, unaware of the monumental decision you had decided on once Eris’s letter had arrived earlier in the week. You had spent the past few months researching traditional autumn foods, preparing for this day. You had known for quite a while you were going to accept the bond, you just didn’t know when the two of you would have the chance to spend more than a few fleeting hours together. You had sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother when you received Eris’s letter, soft prayers echoing through your mind each night ensuring this would all work. 

“Is everything ready?”

His eyes peer into yours, a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see, even you. His words come out soft and slightly timid, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off.

“Yes, we just have to bring the food to the table.”

“May I help?” He doesn’t move towards the food, but one of his hands twitches, moving imperceptibly closer to you.

“I would appreciate that.”

It’s quiet as you two move to the food, grabbing platters and bowls to bring to the table. Once the table is full, a three course meal laid out in front of the two of you, the reality set in a bit. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Eris, but you were slightly concerned you were forcing his hand with this. 

This was always ‘someday’, but now it was here and you didn’t know how he truly felt about it. That was until he grabbed your plate, placing the still warm pita in front of you. You placed a piece of pita on his own plate, and he looked at the baba ganoush before him, its texture so unlike anything he had seen in Autumn. “What do I do?”

You ripped a piece of your pita off, dipping it into the bowl, grabbing some of the baba ganoush on it before offering it to him. He inspects the piece, before doing the same with his own piece of pita, bringing the piece to your mouth. 

“Eat. This might be the last time we’re rational enough for food.”

The two of you bite down on the pita, the warmth of the bread with the chill of the baba ganoush, the smoky, rich flavor exploding in your mouths. The room immediately shifted with the scent of your mixed arousals, but the two of you ignored it. His fingers lingered on your mouth, swiping at your lips before ripping off another piece of pita.

Heat was coursing through your veins, Eris’s emotions thrumming through you at a higher intensity. He felt electric in your veins.

You continue feeding each other until the pita’s gone and your attention shifts to the bouillabaisse. In similar fashion, the two of you poured the soup into the bowls with the bread before setting them down. You were thrumming, every part of you screamed to be closer to him, your thoughts having a background loop of mate, mate, mate.

“How did you know about bouillabaisse?”

Eris’s words send heat through you - his voice, soft and low, the actual words not registering with your insatiable need for him.

“Beg your pardon?”

His smirk is feline as he knows exactly why you didn’t hear him, but he repeats his question with no teasing.

“I um, found it a few months ago - I was in Dawn and a little restaurant served it.”

You could feel the sweat on your brow as you watched Eris’s fingers bring another spoonful to his mouth. You thought about all the things he could do with those fingers, that mouth, that tongue-

“Nobody in Dawn serves this. It is a regional dish, more specifically it is only found on the seaside of Autumn.”

Busted. 

You take another bite of the soup, the flavors so different from Night Court cuisine, but you weren’t complaining. Several of the fish in the soup were only found along the coast of Autumn and Winter, some making it as far north as Dawn.

“I may have perused some Autumn Court restaurants when I was visiting once.”

Eris stretches out the fingers of his hand, moving his long fingers in torturous preparation before placing his hand on your thigh. His touch was so warm, you began pulling at the collar of your dress to let the heat escape, biting your lip to keep the moan from escaping.

“When were you allowed in Autumn?”

“Fine,” your voice came out sharp, the room much too hot for an interrogation, “I snuck into Autumn a few months ago trying to find something to make you for this. I tried a bouillabaisse at this incredible little restaurant and I paid them an exorbitant amount of gold to teach me how to make it and to not tell anyone I was there. I slipped back in yesterday to pick up the fish in this soup.”

His fingers dance about on your thigh, and you take a quick glance down at his pants, your body growing warmer at his cock pressing across his pants, desperate to be released. You can’t move your eyes away from it - knowing how it looked, how it felt in your mouth, how it tasted - you were about to start drooling before Eris’s hand came up and closed your jaw.

“Strip.”

Eris’s words were a demand, full of power and need.

“But we still have dess-“

Your words died on your tongue as Eris began unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes caught on his lean chest, littered with freckles. You were in need, too, practically salivating at your mate’s display of his body, and you can’t quite remember why you wanted him to finish the whole meal.

He huffs over to you, his hands grabbing the fabric of your dress, ripping it in half down the middle. You gasp as the cold air meets your skin, somehow making your nipples even harder.

You stare at him wide eyed, even more aroused than before. At this point, you knew your panties were doing very little to keep your arousal from coating your thighs.

“You took too long,” he snarls, undoing the ties of his pants.

You had begun pulling the remnants of your dress off your shoulder, but stopped to watch your mate hook his thumbs into his trousers and pull them down, letting his cock free. 

You move forward, ready to jump on Eris, but his hand on your chest stops you, eliciting a whine from you. His other hand grabs the molten chocolate cake you had made, slowly lifting it out of the ramekin. He holds it delicately in his hand, the other hand on your chest moving up to your hair, tugging gently on the strands to pull you towards him.

Your chests were touching, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He blazed with heat, his cock hard with need pressed into your stomach. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his blood was boiling inside of him, but he moved ever so slowly, his fingers meeting your chin. He looked into your eyes, the two of you the only beings in the world right now.

“My mate.”

Anything could be happening outside of the walls of this cabin. The snow could have all melted, a heat wave sending the Winter Court into chaos, and you wouldn’t know. All you would know was Eris’s gaze on you, mapping out every inch of your body so he can remember every detail correctly when he thinks about this once you two are apart. His thumb applied pressure on your chin, opening your mouth. He placed the cake in your mouth, whispering, “don’t bite, not yet.”

You moved your hands to his hips, holding onto him. One of his hands moves to help hold the cake up, his other holding onto your neck. He puts the other end of the small cake into his mouth and lightly tugs on the bond. You both bite into it, the liquid chocolate center immediately cascading down and coating both of your chests. You both make quick work of finishing the remainder of the cake, tearing and gnawing at the soft dessert until you finish it off. He catches your lips in a kiss, the taste of the chocolate a luxury on his tongue.

You jump, feet slipping slightly on the bits of chocolate that made it to the floor. Eris’s arms catch underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. He lays you down on the table, moving his lips from your mouth, down the column of your throat, down your chest. You’re pulsing with need, desperate to feel any friction from him. You thrust your hips up, desperate to meet any feeling of him against you. His arm moves across your hips, pushing you down against the table. He shakes his head as he keeps kissing down your stomach, lifting his arm for a ring of fire to take its place around your waist.

He skips over where you want him, instead moving his head down to your thigh, licking up towards your hips. His tongue was hot as it slid up your inner thigh, lapping up the chocolate that had dripped down it. Your breathing was ragged as you felt his hot tongue growing closer and closer to you, and it felt like it was getting warmer the further it moved up your thigh. 

You looked down at him, his amber eyes that were full of heat all you can see of his face as his tongue finally slips between your folds. You moan at the contact, throwing your head back and hitting it harshly against the table. The pain didn’t register, not as Eris - your mate - was moving his tongue as if he knew every part of you, as if he knew exactly how you felt as he would warm and cool his tongue at his leisure. He lifted his mouth just an inch, his words slightly muffled by your body.

“You taste of desperation. It’s delicious.”

You moan at his words, and he flicks your clit with his tongue. His hands warm on your thighs, pressing them further apart. He slips his tongue back through your folds, your hands gripping onto his hair to keep his mouth on you. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders before one of his hands disappears. You are writhing on the table, his grip on you lighting your skin on fire. The room grows heavier with the scent of his arousal, and you twitch your ears at the new sound in the room.

He was moaning into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through your body as you realized the hand that left you was wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously. The thought of him being so aroused at eating you out that he has to touch himself sends you over the edge, your thighs clenching over his ears as you finish on his tongue. Your breathing was heavy, and Eris’s tongue did not let up, lapping like a starved male. You pulled him up by his hair, bringing your face to his. Your tongue swipes into his mouth, tasting a combination of yourself and chocolate on his mouth. You grab his shoulders, deepening the kiss as you flip him onto his back, pressing him onto the table. His hands grip onto your hips, trying to push you onto him, desperate for any touch from you. He whimpers as you tug his hair, pulling him into you.

You place teasing bites as you move down his torso, leaving mark after mark in a line towards his happy trail. You purposefully rub your breasts against his cock, smiling up at him as he groans, your breath hot on his crotch.

You lick from underneath his shaft, your tongue slowly moving from the base to the tip before putting his cock completely in your mouth. He tasted like cinnamon with a little salt, the chocolate flavor on your tongue making him taste incredible. His hands move, gripping onto your hair as he chants your name - a prayer, a plea, you weren’t sure. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his hips thrusted trying to push himself deeper into your mouth. 

You wanted to tease him about needing to touch himself while his mouth was on you, but you felt the same compulsions as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You resist the urge to move your fingers to yourself by digging your nails into Eris’s thighs, leaving half moon indents. His grip grew tighter on your hair, pushing your head down harder as he got closer to finishing, his moans filling the cabin as he finished, the hot taste of cinnamon filling your mouth and coating your throat as you swallow it. You pull your mouth off of him, his cock twitching again at the look you give him as you lick your lips.

He growled and you swiped your tongue up his still hard cock. He lunged for you, jumping off the table before his teeth sink onto your nipple, pulling the skin with his teeth. You gasp, pinching his nipple back in response. 

“Do you think there’s something there about eating to accept the bond and what we just did?”

You waggle your brows at him, but his eyes are a bottomless pit of black. Gone are the amber hues of fallen leaves, replaced by an endless void of hunger. You lean up to kiss him, the taste of both of you swirling between your tongues. You start walking backward, knocking into one of the chairs. He catches you, one arm hooking around your waist. 

His pointer finger moves up from your belly button to your neck, swiping up the chocolate left behind. He puts his finger in your mouth, having you suck the chocolate off. 

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

You smiled around his finger, swirling your tongue around it as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You nodded, taking his whole finger into your mouth. He breathes in deeply through his nose, his eyes swirling with desire before you. His other arm loops around your waist, carrying you through the cabin. Your giggles echoed down the hallway as Eris moved the two of you into the bathroom. He doesn’t set you down, shifting instead to hold you up against the wall with one arm while he turns the shower on. 

The water started cascading down the both of you, sweeping the remnants of the chocolate down the drain. Your feet hit the floor as Eris pushes the two of you forward, your back hitting the wall. The water fell over your face, making it hard to see him, but you could feel everything about him. You felt his skin on yours, your chests pushed together. You felt his emotions thrumming inside of you, bouncing everywhere, filling every available space. You had heard of the bond being accepted as an all-consuming thing, but you found any previous descriptions to be wholly inadequate. Every inch of you burned for him, thrumming with need to be near, to have him with you, to have him inside of you. 

He grabs the bar of soap from the shower, lathering it onto a wet washcloth before rubbing it against your body, rubbing the chocolate from both yours and his skin. 

“I never thought accepting the bond would be so messy.”

Eris’s hand guided the wash cloth across your shoulders, your sternum, before taking his time as he rubbed it against your breasts. His thigh slid between your legs, separating them. Lean muscle pressed against your cunt as you sank onto his thigh. His lips were on your mouth as you ground onto his thigh. He tossed aside the washcloth, his hands gripped your hips, harshly moving you against his thigh. 

“My beautiful, beautiful mate.” 

His voice was husky, echoing through the shower, further cementing that feeling he was everywhere.

“Gonna fall apart on my thigh?”

His lips move down your neck, teeth sinking into skin.

“We have all weekend for me to put every part of me to good use.”

You threw your head back, hitting the wall softly. One of Eris’s hands moves behind your head, cushioning the blow. His grip is unforgiving as he continues moving you, his thigh rubbing your clit so perfectly. Eris looked so beautiful before you, his pale skin a soft shade of pink from the heat radiating off of him. 

His irises have shrunk enough for you to see a slither of the amber you love so much. You could feel him thrumming in your chest and you swore if you looked down, the room would be alight with the gold tie between you two. You gripped his shoulders as he pressed his thigh into harder, sending you over the edge. 

You’re reeling from the orgasm, but Eris’s grip doesn’t let up. He uses his other leg to spread your legs again, and his hands move down to your ass, picking you up before sliding his cock into you. It feels right when he’s inside of you, the pounding in your head subsiding, the heat dissipating for just a moment before it was replaced with the need for more, more, more.

Your head moves across the tiled wall as Eris thrusts into you. You grip his hair, pulling his face to you again before kissing his mouth, needing to feel him everywhere. You’re all teeth as you nip and bite across his neck, up his jaw, on his earlobes. The shower does little to hide the whimper he lets out. 

His fingers grab your face, pulling you from his ear to his mouth. He kisses you hard and passionately before pulling out of you and turning you around. Your hands press into the wall as his hands roam down the sides of your body, sending chills throughout you.

One of his hands ran through your hair, wrapping it around his hand, the other wrapping around your waist, holding your back to his chest. The water streamed down the two of you, but you hardly noticed as he kissed your neck, pushing you against the wall.

You moan, pushing your ass against his cock. He growls as one of his hands traces from your hip down to your upper inner thigh, gripping tightly.

He bit your shoulder blade, pushing deeper inside of you. The pressure inside of you kept building, the water streaming across your skin growing hotter. Your blood was boiling, you weren’t sure where you stopped and Eris began. His thrusts became harder and more erratic, his fingers gripping so tightly you were sure they’d bruise. 

Eirs held you in an iron grip as he came inside of you, his release causing you to finish again. Arms braced against the wall as you panted heavily, Eris softly pulled himself out of you. His hands rubbed down your arms, and you stood up straighter, albeit on shaky legs. His eyes were roaming your body, looking over all the marks leftover from your tryst. The two of you were no strangers to rougher sex - most of the time you two were only able to satiate each other against a tree for mother’s sake. The tiles were no concern to you, but you knew Eris felt something deeper within him, guilt perhaps at how little control he had and the marks a reminder of that. Having a bond was new, but accepting the bond was utter chaos. A thousand emotions rattled through you, unsure of who they truly belonged to the most dominant ones were to protect and to fuck.

Eris slipped his arm out of the shower, his head going with it. You took the moment to gaze down at his ass, the little freckles scattered across it gave you the urge to bite the plump flesh. He came back in fully with a washcloth, and your gaze softened. You reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“Er, I don’t care, we’ll probably be going at it again in twenty minutes.”

Despite your protests, he broke free of the loose grip you had on him. He brought the cloth up under the water, letting it get properly drenched. 

“I know.” 

He moved the washcloth down between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle compared with the male who was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise moments ago.

“We’ve just never gotten to have this part before.”

You think back to all the times you two have met - in the woods, in secure cabins, in closets to find that he was right. Every moment alone the two of you had counted, and neither of you were ever able to linger for long after sex. 

Another thing the secrecy cost the both of you.

He looked to you, asking silent permission, and you nod. He moved the washcloth, cleaning the remnants of himself off of you. He rinsed the washcloth again before moving it across your skin - your stomach, your shoulders, your arms. He lingered, taking the time to clean every inch of you. He laughed, pointing out you still had some chocolate behind your ear. Once he finished, he reached to turn off the shower, but your hand stopped his. 

His eyes are assessing as you slowly grab the washcloth from him, your own eyes reflecting his previous question. He nods, and you start your own work of cleaning him. Your eyes trail his body, taking in how vulnerable he is in this moment. You hummed softly, the tune of some song you can’t recall the name of. The sound makes some of the emotions inside of you die down a bit, replaced by a calmer feeling. Eris tips his head down as you wipe at his back, the scars there almost mirrors of your own.

The cloth moves down him, but you stop to kiss a few of the scars on his upper back. Once you’re done, you drop the washcloth on the floor, wrapping your arms around his torso. Eris’s hand reaches out, shutting off the shower, but not making any indication he wants to move. 

Eris’s love sitting inside of you felt different to the love you felt for him - synonyms, perhaps. But not quite the same.

After several minutes, you grabbed some towels from the cabinets, offering one to Eris. He slings it around his hips lazily, lifting you into his arms. You had barely wrapped yourself in the towel before he scooped you up.

The two of you land on the bed, decadent in shades of blue across the massive sea of blankets and pillows. The only reminder that neither of you were in your home courts. Eris taps your chest, the reminder you felt about having to leave him leaking over to his side of the bond.

You two settle on the pillows, discarding your towels to lay beneath the large duvet. You climbed on top of him, settling on his chest. His cock grew hard again, and you moved so you could settle with him inside of you. 

You traced your fingers over his freckles, connecting them with your finger. “I can make constellations out of them,” you tell him. 

The roar has subsided enough for you to feel like a person again rather than a beast. You know it’ll come back, in minutes or seconds you weren’t sure, but you wanted to spend whatever time with him like this that you could.

Eris thrusts softly inside of you, watching your eyes look for patterns in the freckles across his cheeks.

“Perhaps you can make me a constellation that will always lead me to you.”

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him softly. Your mate. You feel the pit inside of you start to roar, but you swallow it down, opting instead to search inside of yourself, finding that golden thread tethering you to him, and pulling.

“It appears I already have.”

He flips the two of you, laying you on your back as he slowly puts himself inside of you again. He fills you up completely, reaching the base of his cock before stopping and just staying there. 

“Mm, Eris.”

He smiles, his arms landing on each side of your face, caging you in. He moves a few strands of hair out of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

He smiles down at you, his freckles dancing across his face, the sunlight illuminating his hair to look as if it were made of flame.

His fingers tangle in your hair, lightly holding on. 

“You are everything to me.” 

His voice comes out soft and slightly shaky, as if the admission were almost painful. He began thrusting slowly, but this felt different. Anyone who had ever thought Eris Vanserra incapable of being soft should see him now.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

His thrusts became faster with each word, but not harsher. 

“I will always take care of you.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“And I you.”

You were reaching that peak again, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t feral, the need to satiate the physicality of the bond, but rather to remind yourself that you two were bound together, forever.

“I love you, mate.”

His words have you seeing stars, and you practically feel yourself leave your body, but you hear yourself say, “and I love you,” as Eris finishes inside of you.

He collapses on you, his cock still inside of you. You both are breathing heavily, unable to get enough air into your lungs. He collapses on top of you, his arms digging beneath you to wrap you in an embrace. 

No touch was enough, even as you wrapped your own arms around him, peppering kisses into the side of his head. The two of you lay there, eventually Eris peaks his head out from your neck to watch the snow fall outside the window. You think about the many lives you could lead with Eris Vanserra - how much simpler your lives could be if you were born of different circumstances. 

But those Erises wouldn’t be the one laying on top of you now. They wouldn’t have as sharp of a tongue as he does, or perhaps their noses wouldn’t slant the same way his does. You could lead a thousand lifetimes with a thousand Erises, each one different from the next. Your thumb grazes his cheek, deciding that easy was never meant for you. It was never meant for Eris, either.

In those thousand lifetimes, the only edge they have on this one is the ability for you two to be more free about your love. 

You wouldn’t have to return to your respective homes, glamouring the scent of your mating bond from those around you in a bid to mitigate the unwanted comments from those around either of you. Beron would be excited, an intercourt mating would come with tremendous benefits for him. Rhysand would be pissed, your entire family shocked at the secret, unable to bite their tongues from disrespecting your mate with the twisted truths.

Secrets can only last for so long. They all get spoken at some point, and one day everyone will know how you have been carrying Eris’s love for years, how it has carried you for much longer than you thought, and how it will still carry you wherever you need to go.

Even when it’s in the opposite direction of him.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

[barcaatthemoon]

always || kim little x reader ||

You and Kim would always have each other, no matter what.

Your mother was an absolute lifesaver. Today, you started your first day as a football commentator for the WSL. Sports journalism had always been your backup plan, not believing yourself to be a good enough leader to be a coach. Since it was your first day, you had to leave hours earlier than Kim did to get ready.

Still, Kim hadn't wanted to just leave your two year old home alone, so she had dropped him off with your mother on her way to the stadium. A game at Emirates was a big deal, and for you to be making your commentary debut was also huge. You were so nervous, more so than you had been in years for anything else.

Technically, it was nothing new to you to give a bit of commentary here and there. However, now this wasn't just something you did while you waited to get over an injury or your pregnancy. This was your job now that you had retired from football on a club and international level. Kim was excited for you, but it was weird having this be the first season at Arsenal where your name wasn't on any list.

The game itself went well, and you were absolutely elated to announce your wife's early goal. Even better for you was pointing out the celebration that puzzled a few people meant for your son. If you had been given the view of the crowd, you knew for certain that he was mirroring Kim's movements. He wanted to be just like her, Kim was his hero.

After the game, you were free to go down to the field. You had done little interviews with the players before, but now you got to take your son and spend some time with your wife. Kim had taken your son already, and several of the players were running around with him in a circle.

"Oh wow," Kim muttered under her breath as you approached. "You look beautiful, absolutely breathtaking."

You blushed heavily as Kim pulled you in for a kiss. You kissed her back, only breaking the kiss to tell her, "Years later, and you still make me blush."

"It's easy to be charming with you," Kim said. You kept yourself wrapped around you wife, resting your head on top of hers. The two of you stood and watched your son play with her teammates. It was hard to think about, but there would soon come a day whenever neither of you would be a part of this team anymore. You'd keep your friends from it, but there was something else about it that you knew Kim would miss dearly.

"Mumma look!" Both you and Kim looked at your son. She smiled as he tackled the ball away from Jordan to pass it over to Lia.

"He's gonna be the best midfielder in the world one day," you mumbled as you pressed a kiss to Kim's cheek. There had once been a time whenever you had been hopeful that your boy would come out a natural goalkeeper, but Kim's influence on him was too strong. You didn't mind though, not when you got to see the love shared between them firsthand. If there was anybody in the world Kim loved more than you, it was your boy.

"He could change his mind. Someone will come along one day that he finds cooler than me." Kim sounded sad as she spoke, so you turned her around in your arms to give her a kiss. Years ago, you never would have even thought of kissing Kim in public. You'd been caught up in professionalism, but now, all you wanted to do was shout your love for her from every rooftop in London. It was wild to you how quickly a few things could change like that.

"Well, even if he's not obsessed with you anymore, I always will be," you told her. Kim laughed at that, remembering the way you used to follow her around. It had taken years of teasing and encouragement from Jen and a couple of your other teammates for you to finally let any moves be made with Kim. "I may have started a new job, but I'll always be your number one cheerleader."

"Yeah? Well, I can't wait to tell everybody about my very hot wife who talks about how great I am on TV," Kim said. There was a teasing lilt to her voice. You rolled your eyes and brushed off the comment, only to later check tweets about the game to learn that Kim didn't have to say anything to anybody. Everybody already knew about your relationship, and they were eating up the way that you spoke about Kim's playstyle and the rest of your friends at Arsenal.

[sandwitchstories]

Kiss It Fix It

Hello, Hello! Here is the next installment in my series of drabbles, headcannons and one shots about Dad!Sukuna!

For more adventures with Mouse and Dad!Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's currently 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: While fleeing from naptime Mouse sustains an injury.

WC: 1000+

CW: Reader is referred to as Mama but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, it is SFW but 2 swear words are said (well technically one but it's said twice)

Sukuna was sitting atop his throne, staring out into the vacancy of the room he was in. Here he was the ultimate law. Here was where he made pathetic humans tremble and crawl. He made them beg, never being even the slightest bit benevolent. Nah. He was fully malevolent, just like his shrine.

He rested his head on his palm and closed his eyes. He let out a slow breath. He was glad these tedious meetings were over. These curses and sorcerers were all so pathetic. Their squabbling and scheming… Very few of them had strong enough convictions to actually stand and fight against opposition. 

It was all a waste of his time and utterly bored him. Sukuna was not a fan of being bored. Maybe it was time for a little… walk about. Go stretch his legs, find some fresh… meat. Uraume was saying the supply of human flesh was getting low. He did need it to survive and the hunt would help him blow off some steam, especially if he played with his food first. 

Just as he finished that thought the door to his throne room began to open slowly. He lifted his head and arched his eyebrow, wondering just who would have the audacity to enter his throne room without permission. 

“Papa?”

He should have figured. “What do you want, Mouse?”

She finished shoving the heavy door open enough she could squeeze in. He watched as she made her way across the room and up to his throne of bones. With expert ease she made her way up the stairs to stand at his feet.

“Papa, up. Please and thank you,” she said, stretching her arms up.

“You know you are not supposed to be in here,” he narrowed his eyes on her, unmoving.

“But I need Papa…” she pouted.

“Why do you need me? You have your mother. Hell, you have Uraume somewhere around here too,” he scoffed.

Mouse rested one hand on his knee and then lifted the other to show him a pretty deep cut on the palm of her tiny little hand. “Need Papa to kiss it, fix it.”

He used one hand to pick her up by the back of her clothing and set her on his lap, keeping that hand behind her to keep her stable. Another hand cupped the back of her head, thumb rubbing in a gentle pattern. He used a third hand to hold hers and take a look.

“How the hell did you do that?” he muttered, using his RCT to heal her hand. “There you go. It’s fixed.”

“No, it’s not,” she shook her head glancing at her palm and then at him expectantly.

“What the hell do you mean it’s not fixed?”

“Papa didn’t finish,” she said, moving the hand to hold it in front of his face as if she were presenting evidence. “Seeeeee.”

“Mouse, I see nothing. Literally nothing. It’s been healed.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“But… papa didn’t kiss it fix it…” she pouted up at him.

Kiss it fix it… He was so grateful you had taught your daughter that a kiss healed wounds and had somehow convinced him to play along. He let out a sigh and moved her hand to his mouth “Muah. There. Happy?”

“Yes. Please and thank you, Papa,” she said with a smile before moving to lean into him.

He gave in instantly, wrapping arms around her and holding her impossibly small frame in his arms. Careful like she was made of glass. “Now what do you want, Mouse?”

“Just Papa,” she said softly, a sleepy note to her voice. 

He smiled down at her gently, “Fine. You may stay.”

A short time later you came into the throne room full of concern, slightly frantic and looking for Mouse. You had found broken glass and were concerned about her well being while trying to locate her. All you had done was go to the bathroom and the little convict had once again made an escape and left destruction in her wake. But this time there had been blood.

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw her in his arms. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she had any injuries, Sukuna would have used RCT to heal them. When it came to Mouse, he talked tough but he was a damn good Papa.

Your heart swelled with love as you took in the scene. You couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across your face. You touched your fingertips to your mouth to stifle the happy chuckle you let slip. Sukuna was sound asleep on his big scary throne of bones with Mouse, in her little pink outfit with her little pink pigtails, equally sound asleep in his arms. 

You were about to turn back out of the room when Sukuna opened one of his eyes and focused it on you. Seeing it was you, he blinked awake. He carefully stood and descended his throne to come to you with Mouse still sound asleep, cradled in his arms. 

You were confused as he grabbed your hand and started walking. “Sukuna, where are we going?”

“Our room of course.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Because it is nap time, quite obviously.”

“You two looked comfortable where you were,” you commented. He napped in that thing all the damn time and it would not have been the first time Mouse joined him.

“We were,” he said, using one hand to push open your bedroom door, gesturing for you to enter first before closing the door softly behind him. 

“Then why relocate and risk waking her?” you asked as you stood next to him and watched him very carefully lay her down on the bed before he turned towards you. 

“For one very simple fact,” he said, pulling you close and tilting your head up to press several gentle kisses to your lips. “You don’t like sleeping on my throne.”

“I don't,” you agreed.

“Then isn’t it obvious?” he chuckled.

“Papa? Mama?” Mouse stirred from the bed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“We’re right here, little one,” you said with reassurance, crawling onto the over sized bed to reach your daughter’s side. 

You laid down on your side and pulled her closer to you. You were about to turn to speak to Sukuna when you felt him lay down behind you and wrap his arm around you both, his large hand resting on Mouse’s back on top of your own. He kissed the back of your head before nuzzling his nose against your hair.“It’s nap time, precious one. Go the fuck to sleep.”

[yuesya]

“The Zenins finally named an heir?”

“Yup, seems like they finally got around to it,” Satoru laughs. “Or maybe their clan head just did it on a whim?”

It’s an amusing thought. The current head of the Zenin Clan is an extraordinarily difficult person to pressure into doing anything –as this sort of thing tends to be, when the person in question is apparently of the opinion that ‘murder’ is an excellent solution to most of her problems. For all that the Gojo elders are constantly grumbling over how the Zenins’ clan head should technically belong to them and not the Zenins, Satoru doesn’t doubt that there are a number of them who are also quietly relieved by not having to deal with someone who has no qualms about killing and isn’t afraid to make her stance obvious. Or act on it, for that matter.

Suguru tilts his head. “The Zenin clan head… oh, I think I remember her. She came around the Tokyo campus once before, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Satoru grins at the other boy. “You asked me if she was one of my clansmen, remember?”

Suguru flushes slightly in embarrassment as he snaps, “Well how was I supposed to know? The two of you really do look alike, I can’t be the only one who thinks that!”

“Mhm. You’re definitely not the only one.” Zenin Shiki has what’s considered the ‘classic’ Gojo look, all silvery-white hair and light coloration, instead of the Zenin appearance. Ebony hair and eyes, as dark as the shadows that the Zenins pride themselves in.

That still doesn’t change the fact that she’s a Zenin and not a Gojo, though.

“Sorcery clans tend to intermarry with each other,” is all he offers in explanation to his civilian-born friend. Usually, when there are such unions between well-established bloodlines of equal standing and prestige, there are certain vows in place –such as children being returned to the mother’s clan should they turn out to have inherited signature techniques from the mother’s side of the family.

In the case of Zenin Shiki, however, the Gojo Clan discovered that there was a loophole. She possessed cursed eyes, yes, but they were unprecedented in the long history of the Gojo Clan. Therefore, as the Gojo Clan had not demanded that all children possessing cursed eyes be relinquished to them as part of the vow, it stood to reason that new abilities born of the union would be considered as belonging to the Zenin Clan.

To be fair, cursed eyes were rare, and the only real case that still existed among sorcerers in this day and age was the Six Eyes. Which were rare enough already, and usually only found in the Gojo Clan’s main family.

No one had thought that there would be a Zenin granddaughter of a Gojo-Zenin union resulting in a pair of new cursed eyes.

The Zenin elders had probably been unbearably smug about the whole thing, up until they’d been slaughtered by the girl when she ascended her position over her former clan head’s cooling corpse. After which it had probably been the Gojo elders’ turn to wipe their brows and be thanking their lucky stars over having narrowly dodged a bullet there.

Or not, as the case may be; there were still some old fogeys laboring under the impression that the Zenin Clan had simply ‘raised the child wrong’ and that she would’ve turned out to be so much better had the Zenins admitted their own inadequacies and surrendered custody of the girl to them.

Pfft.

Well, it wasn’t as if any of them could turn back time. What’s done was done, and now they had to live with the consequences of their decisions.

Interesting choice for Zenin Shiki to name Zenin Naoya as her heir, though.

Ordinarily, a new clan head who’d supplanted their predecessor through force would want to establish their own bloodline as the new ruling family, but clearly Zenin Shiki had foregone picking one of her close cousins to be her heir. None of them had been specifically elevated to positions of power, either. She herself also had not chosen to marry into one of the more influential Zenin bloodlines as part of an alliance through marriage.

The only strength I need is my own, was the message that Satoru was seeing here.

… Or perhaps not? After all, the unexpected choice of Naoya as heir was definitely going to give people thoughts. Especially those who’d been very unhappy when Zenin Naobito, the previous head of the Zenin Clan, had been killed by a small slip of a girl. A girl who was distinctly Gojo-looking in appearance, despite her Zenin blood –the Zenins likely still had hang-ups about their clan head being killed by a Gojo, given the… historical precedent behind such a thing.

Hmm.

… Well, whatever game Zenin Shiki was playing here, it didn’t have anything to do with Satoru. And hey, maybe she wasn’t playing any games at all –maybe Zenin Naoya was just the strongest Zenin in the younger generation, and she’d made her decision based on that?

Who knows?

[impish-baby]

Famial yandere! Stardew Valley moms..

Jodi knows you're not taking care of yourself properly! My goodness, you're working yourself to the bone... she knows you're still young, but your body needs a break from all that stress! Always insisting you come over for dinner, smiling so warmly with how well you get along with her boys... practically part of the family!

Caroline fretting over every cut and scrape she sees you have, applying healing salve and bandages, having to stop herself from pressing a kiss to them once she's done like a doting mother... she frets enough over Abigail already, and now she has another child that can't seem to stop running into trouble (even though you aren't technically hers, not yet at least..)

Robin feeling the need to take you under her wing, seeing you look so confused and lost when her and Lewis showed you the old farm.. Don't worry, kiddo, she'll show you the ropes! Err... at least with how to work with wood, she'll even give you a discount at her store. Seeing how you make Maru and Sebastian happier, thinking having another sibling would help their relationship..

[imagopirateversion]

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales; Why It Shouldn’t Exist

Or how I invested time and energy into an analysis of a relatively dead franchise instead of doing it for my actual media analysis university course.

An essay by: a bitter and obsessed PotC fan since they were 7, with a lot of free time.

Lads, this is going to be long. You have been warned.

The Beginning

At the very beginning of the movie, we see a young Henry Turner looking for his dad.

Now, we're not talking about characterization problems or how likely it is that a ten-year-old child would risk his life to look for a man he technically only saw once; we're talking about plot problems, actual logical fallacies. My questions are:

How? The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ship, impossible to be found unless She wants to be found. The only reason we see Her in Dead Man's Chest is because Davy Jones himself is looking for Jack to collect his debt, and in that occasion the Dutchman's captain wasn't even doing what he was supposed to do, so he was most definitely in the living world. Will otherwise, he's doing the job Calypso gave him, so he's constantly in between. Is the movie trying to convince me that a kid was able to do something no one in the history of piracy was ever able to do? And even if he did, why hasn't anyone explained me how? He simply looks at a map and throws himself on the bottom of the ocean. How did he know The Dutchman was there? How did he know it would've come to surface?

Where is his mom? We got to know Elizabeth in the first three movies; we know she's a smart woman and we can assume she's an attentive mother. She didn't notice her son preparing himself for a trip in the middle of the ocean to go look for his dad? Was she distracted? Was she outsmarted by a 10ish-year-old? Or is she just not contemplated in this scenario?

Why does Will look like that? Will is doing his job, so... why does he look like he's slowly corrupting? That kind of corruption is the punishment Calypso reserves to The Dutchman's crew when the captain fails her, which isn't the case. Did they forget about it? Was the idea of putting algae on Orlando Bloom's face just impossible to resist to?

Alright, this isn't actually from this movie but it's bothering me, so I have to write it; also, it would make this whole movie unnecessary, so it's somehow related to it. Why (and I can't stress this enough) can't Elizabeth be on the Dutchman? Why can't they do the job together? Is it because she's not a pirate? I'm pretty sure se actually is. Is it because she's a woman? Last time I checked she was the KING. She wants to stay with Will forever, Will wants to stay with her forever, they can literally live forever on the same ship. Why aren't they?

Whatever the Hell Happened to Jack Sparrow

Imagine creating a character that is so iconic whenever you ask a person who was a kid in the early 2000 to imagine a pirate, they imagine said character.

Now imagine fourteen years pass and you decide to ruin that character by making him the most hideous, annoying, idiotic person in the whole saga, and we're talking about a saga that has Philip the Missionary in it. Why? Jack Sparrow is THE anti-hero. Never on the right side, but never on the wrong one. You can tell he's doing something morally questionable, but you still find yourself rooting for him. He's stupid enough to make you laugh, but he's secretly clever enough to always get away with it. Now he's just... drunk. And that's not even an excuse for this horrendous new characterization, because he was always drunk. The guy FORGOT HE WAS ROBBING A BANK, the same guy just one movie earlier was able to escape from the King of England's palace and steal a lady's earring (by pretending to be a literal slut) in the process. He just switched from the iconic drunk bi bestie everyone loves to my cringe uncle that drinks too much at Christmas parties and makes everyone uncomfortable. Please, if the risk is ruining an entire generation's beloved character, either don't make the movie or find a better explanation than "Bad luck dogs you day and night".

The Pearl in The Bottle

So... what you're telling me is that Jack Sparrow, the guy who was able to defeat Hector Barbossa, Davy Jones and Blackbeard thanks to his slyness, and who loves his Black Pearl more than anything else in the world, had said ship in a bottle in his pockets for FIVE YEARS... and he never thought about breaking the bottle to free Her. That's what you're telling me. This is the pivotal point upon which the entire Jack's plot hinges. I... I don't even know what to say. Was this supposed to be funny?

What an Incredibly Lucky Coincidence

A guy needs a treasure to save his father. To find it, he needs the help of a notorious and legendary pirate. He looks for him everywhere, sailing on dozens of ships just so he has the remote chance to stumble across the pirate. The last ship he's been on has sinked, he's the only survivor. He's been found in the middle of the ocean and someone brought him to the nearest city. Which city? I mean, the one that has both the pirate he was looking for and a lady who's the only person in the whole planet who's able to find the treasure he was looking for! And, oh my... he finds the both of them! In that same city! Without even LOOKING FOR THEM! A hell of a coincidence, if you ask me. Also known as lazy writing.

What's Wrong With the Guards?

Now, I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't exactly known for its accurate historical reconstructions, but why are the guards in this movie acting like they're some sort of hellhounds ready to kill anyone in sight? Even pirates and traitors as Jack and Henry were supposed to stand trial before being sentenced to death. It would've probably been an unjust and barbaric trial, but there should've been one. We literally saw it, in the previous movie. Why's Jack been sentenced to death for simply existing here? He gave pirate vibes and they decided that was enough?

Paul McCartney

This is not an actual point of the analysis, I just wanted to remind people that Paul McCartney is in this movie and that's the only valid reason to watch it.

Salazar

I am confused. Once again, I have questions.

El Matador Del Mar was so good at his job he had almost defeated piracy. "The last ones joined together to try and defeat me". The last what? Pirates? There were no pirates left? This happened when Jack was young, so a lot of time before the first movie, right? Where were, I don't know... Blackbeard? Davy Jones? Barbossa? All the other Pirate Lords? I might be wrong, but I guess Salazar didn't kill them, did he? Why weren't they there during that "last battle" in which "the last ones joined together"?

The Devil's Triangle. I just don't understand what's the logic behind it. So, this is a cursed place. Whoever enters there, can't get out. One would think it means that if you get there, you die; and Salazar does die, but he somehow also becomes a ghost whose only purpose is to find Jack Sparrow and have his revenge. So, do people become ghosts when they get in The Devil's Triangle? We have to assume people have gotten stuck in there before; otherwise, there wouldn't be legends around the place. So why isn't it like full of spirits ready to haunt people? Why are Salazar and his crew the only ones?

Poseidon or Calypso?

What's the Trident of Poseidon? Does Poseidon exist? Isn't Calypso the Goddess of the sea? Breaking the Trident, you break all the curses of the sea, so the Trident must be more powerful than Calypso, which leads to a question. Where is she? She IS the sea, right? So she must have known someone was about to find the Trident and brake all curses, including her one. She just decided it was okay? It really feels like someone decided to suddenly change the world's mythology without giving explanations.

The Compass

This is possibly the most blatant plot hole in the whole saga. Probably the most blatant plot hole I've ever witnessed, and man, I watched all the Harry Potter movies. In Dead Man's Chest, Jack meets Tia Dalma in her "shop" and he tells her he's looking for the Davy Jones' key. She asks him "The compass you bartered from me, it cannot lead you to this?", making another pivotal point of Dead Men Tell No Tales factually senseless.

That man couldn't have given his compass to Jack, because that wasn't his compass.

So either Salazar is lying while telling his tale or they forgot about that line in the second movie. Anyway, let's pretend that line doesn't exist; even if that captain gave Jack his compass in that exact moment, why would it be the key to free Salazar, exactly? How is the compass in any way related to The Devil's Triangle or to Salazar? In the movie, they try to explain it with a sentence: “if you betray it, your greatest fear comes true”. So, is Salazar Jack's greatest fear? I really doesn't seem right, Jack almost didn't remember Salazar when Henry mentioned him. To Jack, he's only a guy he outsmarted decades earlier. Also, Jack technically already gave the compass away, twice: to Elizabeth in Dead Man's Chest, to make her find the chest, and to Beckett in At World's End, when they're negotiating.

That's... That's Just Body Shaming, Mate

Let's talk about her. So, the woman's ugly. It can happen that a woman is ugly. Was it necessary to build an entire scene around some blatant body shaming? This scene wants to mimic the similar scene in Dead Man's Chest: Jack's on an island, running from the main villain, and he's forced to do things he doesn't want to do until someone saves him, then it was Will, now it's Hector.

Except in Dead Man's Chest it was LITERAL CANNIBALISM he was facing, and yet he looked LESS TERRIFIED and DISGUSTED. What's exactly the message here? Lads, is marrying an ugly woman worse than cannibalism? I don't know... that was just bad.

Justice for Hector Barbossa

If you know me (you probably don't, but if you do) then you know about my obsession with Hector Barbossa. I truly believe he's the best written character in the saga, and he's in my top five of the characters I love the most in all media. I watched The Curse of the Black Pearl when I was seven and I am autistic, so I had all the time to develop a literal relationship with these characters in my head. As much as Geoffrey Rush's interpretation was impeccable, as always, it really hurt to watch Hector in this movie. He just doesn't sound like him. First of all, why isn't he on the Queen Anne's Revenge? Why's he letting someone else sail around on his ships? He would've never. Why's he just sitting on a throne and shooting musicians instead of, I don't know... being a pirate? Being a pirate is the only thing that matters to him. He says it at the end of On Stranger Tides, and he even says it in this movie, to the witch. "I'm a pirate. Always will be".

So, why isn't he pirating? What happened to him? And what about the pact with the witch? He made her curse all his enemies; that's honestly the most out-of-character thing he could've done.

Seriously, watch this movie, and then The Curse of the Black Pearl and tell me he sounds like he's the same character. Then there’s his death... was it necessary? And I don't mean if it was necessary to the plot (it wasn't), but the way he died, did it make sense? He takes the sword and sacrifices himself to kill Salazar, but WHY? Salazar was back a mortal. They could've brought him to surface and then shoot him. What was the point of his death, Disney? I will never forgive you.

I would've preferred if they never showed him again. He's alive and living his best life in Tortuga, if you ask me.

How does Carina Smyth exist?

Let's do the maths. Carina Smyth has approximately the same age as Henry Turner, who was born around nine moths after the end of At World's End. At the end of that movie, Barbossa once again stole the Black Pearl (he's iconic we stan a legend), so we have to assume it is during that time (between the At World's End and On Stranger Tides) that he conceives Carina. He stays with this woman during the whole pregnancy, bacause he says he was there when she died. So nine months, at least, right? Except; Jack makes it clear that he and Barbossa met Carina's mom, Margaret, together.

When, exactly, did this happen? It can't be between On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales, because Hector himself says only five years passed between the two, and Carina doesn't look like a five-year-old;

it can't be between At World's End and On Stranger Tides, because we know Jack and Barbossa weren't together, and Hector was too busy losing a leg and planning his revenge by working for the King of England; it can't be during At World's End, because Barbossa was too busy rescuing Jack and then slaying (literally and metaphorically) Beckett's men to save piracy; it can't be during Dead Man's Chest, because he was dead; it can't be during The Curse of the Black Pearl, nor during the ten years before it, because he was... he was a skeleton, I hardly believe he could reproduce, despite what’s written in some fanficions; it can't be before, of course, because Carina would be too old. The only chance, but it's a stretch, is that Hector and Jack met this Margaret Smyth years and years before, and that at a certain point (while he was still busy slaying, losing a leg or planning his revenge), for some reason he decided to come back to her and accidentally had a daughter. That would mean that Jack remembered Margaret Smyth's name DECADES after he met her.

The Post-Credit Scene: What?

WHY'S DAVY JONES BACK? The Trident technically broke all the curses of the sea. He is THE cursed man of the sea. AND HE'S DEAD. The only answer I was able to give me, is that the moment the Trident broke the curses, the curse that said if you stab his heart he dies was also broken, so he technically didn't die, but it makes even less sense, because if the curses just aren't real anymore, then a man shouldn't be able to... carve out his heart and put it in a chest, right? (Which by the way, makes Will Turner being alive senseless as well). Even if so, Davy should've come back as a human.

My conclusion is that this movie should not exist, and we, as a community, should pretend it was never made. Hector is alive. Bye.

Imago

[bunbotbuggiman]

au where the peak lords reincarnate as Bingge's quarter demon spawn

saw a post (https://www.tumblr.com/cursed-angelic-art/686056254886559744/do-you-think-mobei-jun-is-the-one-playing-father) talking abt if mbj "played dad" for og lbh's army of kids and-

au where the peak lords reincarnate as Bingge's quarter demon spawn

they all have different mothers but are all the same age- were born the same year-

even sqq, who's nyy's favorite kid (because he reminds her of her shizun, during the good days before lbh became a disciple) despite not being her kid (she herself never had any kids, which doesn't bother her as much because neither did lmy or shl and they're the head wives still so) (in the same vein, Liu Mingyans favorite kid is the one who behaves most like her late brother)

This world's version of Shen Yuan, however, was born as the son of one of mbj's advisors, before said advisor and his family died in a tragic accident. so he was adopted by mobei-jun and shang qinghua at the ripe old age of barely a few weeks old.

His name: Mo Yuan, named after an old friend of Shang Qinghua's from his secret pre-transmigration life (In this world, SY is not a transmigrator.... maybe he is a reincarnation.... but there's no real way to tell, he sure doesn't remember anything)

So he's an ice demon. looks like Shen Yuan but everything about him is like 30 shades more MBJ. he adores his parents, and his parents adore him, and because of this mutual adoration he has successfully grown up completely secure in his status as their child in spite of fully knowing of his adopted status.

This being said, there are very few individuals who also know this fact, because since the transition was so fast (and because Shang Qinghua knows stuff, and Mobei-Jun knows he knows stuff) they just bullshit it and say that Mo Yuan is a magical plant baby who was born as a full demon in spite of technically being a half demon because of magic plant bullshit.

He looks enough like shang qinghua to make it believable anyways, so it's fine.

Mo Yuan and Shang Qinghua also have a really weird relationship where MY at some point got into Shang Qinghua's writings (only the age appropriate stuff.... he found out about the porn at a later age) and violently hated it, but Shang Qinghua found it:

A. funny that his son was so violently opinionated and

B. thought it was important that his son be able to have an outlet for these emotions so he honestly encouraged it.

So now they have a really close parental relationship but also are kind of friendly-close because when Mo Yuan found some of SQH's writings, he immediately was like "oh my god Baba you suck???? at writing????? How?????? You are a scribe???? This is so awful???? Baba, you could do this better, and this better, and- what the hell, take this out, oh my god..."

Also, his name in the au is 漠垣 Mo Yuán meaning North[ern] Wall, but his courtesy name is 漠 雪峰 Mo Xuefēng, meaning North[ern] Snow[y] Peak.

However, he is beloved by much of the palace staffers, who have watched him grow up much closer than any of Luo Bingge's children, who mostly grow up in the relative isolation of their courtyards and palaces and palace wings, so he is referred to by many of them by his nickname, 雪花 Xuehua, meaning snowflake.

So anyways, he meets + kinda grows up alongside many of the peak lords because he grows up spending a lot of time in the palace by virtue of his dads being, well, Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua.

Shang Qinghua and Liu Mingyan, shippers prime and book club buddies into this universe (though Mo Yuan staunchly ignores all of LMY's writings because his face is wayyy too thin for that) immediately sees the way that the various children of Luo Bingge climb over each other in desperate attempts to charm and woo the chilly Mo Xuefeng...

and maybe eventually, how one son of Luo Bingge looks at him and how Mo Yuan looks back.

(I haven't decided what I want the pairing to be here.... oopsies y'all, come to y'alls own conclusions ig lmaooo)

[heesdreamer]

off the ice

PAIRING ➩ sunghoon x reader

SUMMARY ➩ dubbed ‘ice princess’ at an early age for you ice skating skills, you face the biggest challenge of your career when you’re paired with your rival for a competition dance.

GENRE ➩ rivals to lovers enemies to lovers

WARNINGS ➩ suggestive content, abusive figures and strict career lifestyle mentions.

WC ➩ 17.1k

DISCLAIMER : im not citing this as sunghoons personal experience with training or his career and im not making light of the abuse that goes on in the ice skating field and the strict dieting and lifestyle. also side note i literally don’t know a single technical term for skating tricks or competitions so this is my limited descriptive talented and googled information lol (not proofread)

The human body was something you’d never quite been able to grasp completely. It’s rules for right and wrong, it’s reactions to certain stimuli. The way it can bend and twist but not break yet one small accident can ruin it forever.

There was nothing you dreaded more than having that type of accident. It plagued your mind from early morning to late night, what ways you could avoid getting hurt.

Ironic considering your lifestyle choices seemed to bring nothing but hurt, only in the shape of bruised limbs and sore muscles.

Since you were 4 years old, your entire existence had been devoted to one thing. One single thing in your frame of sight, one thing that would determine your future and if you succeeded as a prodigy or failed as an old hobbyist.

On your fourth Christmas your mother had gifted you a small box that was wrapped tightly with a pretty purple bow. At that age you were, of course, more interested in the packaging itself than the contents inside it.

Little did you know, your whole entire growing life form was sitting inside the small box and you were en route to become a prodigy in the making.

For the next 15 years you spent everyday on the ice. Obviously retiring the tiny pair of skates that was hidden behind the old purple bow, you’d gone through dozens of pairs are you grew and the stitching began to fade and tear.

Throughout your school years, you lost yourself in a daze of studying followed by practice followed by studying followed by more practice. You, impressively, managed to keep a small hand full of friends despite the constant look of disappointment you’d face after canceling hangouts.

Then you were graduating, and with a big smile on your face, flowers in hand, you prepared to take a deep breath in and start your life with a blank state. The way you wanted it to be.

You scowled at the memory now as your hands smacked against the cold ice, shavings from the skid of your blade sneaking their way under your gloves and sleeves. Your deep breath of relief had been cut short by the icy chill and reminder that what you had been training for, didn’t end at adulthood.

“That’s the third time you’ve missed that.” Your coach was declaring from off on the side of the rink, ringing her hands together and peering down at you.

You didn’t mind Coach Suzy, if anything she was miles better than dealing with your mothers remarks and insults, but her need to point out the obvious wasn’t your favorite quirk of hers.

Pushing off from the ice back onto your skates, you held your scowl and did a loop around the rink to get back into the motion of it. Three tries without success was, in your standards at least, a complete failure. Your mother would be having a complete public fit if she had found the time to come today.

You simply haven’t, and did not, lose and you weren’t planning on making a late habit of it. Throughout your career you were quickly dubbed a skater to be on the lookouts for, a growing prodigy with a burning passion and a unique sense of style, the Princess of the Ice.

So to be stood here with ice under your nails like a complete amateur, was unacceptable. You furrowed your brows and prepared to send off again, picking up speed and hopefully enough momentum to complete the one jump you’d never had luck with.

Your coach’s whistle stopped you in your tracks and you turned your skate against the ice, stopping abruptly and glaring towards her in confusion. Upon the sight of her, and her newfound companion, your shoulders were deflating with annoyance and exhaustion.

Stood on her side, leaning against the railing and watching you with a half smirk and a skate digging into the ice below him, was none other than Park Sunghoon.

Park Sunghoon had begun his training around the same time as you and you two had immediately been put into comparison, despite the difference in genders never actually leading you to competing. Although, you didn’t need to be in front of judges to compete with each other.

He oozed natural talent and charisma, his body light in the air and swift on the ice. He was quickly named the best skater in your area and he’d yet to lose the title, with you always following a close second. The Ice Prince was spreading throughout the whispers of judges and growing fandoms and to make matters worse for you, he was completely humble.

“Making slushees princess?” His low mocking voice floating across the ice towards you reminded you immediately that humble, did not mean he was kind.

Quite the opposite actually. You and Sunghoon had both fully taken on the position of rivals in training and performance, paying more attention to each others marks than the ones of the girls you actually were being ranked against.

So despite your mutual popularity and matching affectionate nicknames given by the public, you’d yet to do any sort of collaborative stage or paired competition. Until this years national competition.

You came to a slow skate as you approached the two of them, doing a small spin before clumsily falling back against the railing and taking a deep breath. Your coach smiled over at you and your antics before putting on her serious face.

“It’s only three months before the competition guys and I know it’s not what either of you wanted and it’s a short timeframe but I need practice to start within the week.”

The practice and competition she was referring to was the fact your worst nightmare had come true last month when another soloist from your district was chosen to represent at this years comp. You had no idea why she was picked over you considering you routinely ranked higher than her but what’s done is done.

You had come to terms with the fact you wouldn’t be competing for the first time in your life, almost feeling a strange sense of relief at the thought, when Coach Suzy dropped the bomb on you that you were instead selected for the pair dance.

You weren’t completely unfamiliar with skating with a partner, doing some casual dances in low scale showcases and once or twice in an actually competition, but you had a bad gut feeling about who your partner would be judging by her hesitance.

And looking back over to his smirking face now, that same nasty gut feeling was sinking back in.

It wasn’t the actual performance you were necessarily worried about, Sunghoon was no doubt talented and he had more experience with partners than you. It was the enforced effort that not strangling each other everyday was going to take, that was stressing you out.

——

It was 4am and you were sat in the center of the rink, the cold ice against your legs and back wasn’t bothering you much, only a slight distraction as you read through the script and guide for your expected performance.

Your brows were furrowed as you flipped through the pages swiftly, nearly tearing them with the force you moved them. So focused in on the words in front of you, you didn’t even notice the sounds of the gates squeaking until a skate was in front of you.

Without glancing up, you sighed and flipped the booklet closed, raising it up in an attempt to hand it to the boy standing over you. You studied his signature skates with annoyance, furthering when he didn’t take the paper from you.

“I’ve read it.” He explained and you finally looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes were tired but also seemed to be studying your reaction to the materiel. You briefly wondered if he was having a late night or an early morning as you drifted your gaze to his tight black turtleneck down to his sport pants.

“Is she kidding with this?” You scoffed and pushed off your hands so you were standing with him now. He didn’t say anything, watching as you tugged down your sweater and wiped your hands off on the thick fabric. “It’s like sex on ice.”

“It’s supposed to be romantic.” He offered with a raised eyebrow and he laughed when you turned your sharp glare towards him. “It’s a staple, you know it is. And besides it’s a big deal that the ice royalty are performing together.”

You didn’t miss the hint of disdain in his voice at the audience given title and you once again found yourself admiring his humbleness, despite it seemingly border-lining on insecurity occasionally.

“Why are you here?” You found yourself asking before you even realized you were starting to speak, you pushed off into a slow skate in a loop around him and he spun softly in place to watch you as you circled him.

He shrugged softly, the sharp line of his shoulders raising and falling and you quirked an eyebrow at his lack of answer. Eventually he sighed and spoke again. “I just come here sometimes..”

Immediately you understood what he meant and why he’d be at the rink at these hours. The same reasons why instead of studying at home, you were sprawled against the cold ice that was natural for you.

Sunghoon and you had never seen eye to eye but you were undoubtedly living a lifestyle that not many people your age could relate to, and that was clear to you as you spent the earliest years of your life searching for somebody who could even half understand that reasoning behind why, sometimes, the only place to go was the skating center.

“Did you want to practice what you’ve read so far or just talk.” His sharp tone was seeping into his words again, switching the atmosphere immediately and you frowned for a second before remembering who you were talking with. You scowled and laid back onto the ice, the starting position of your dance.

“On your side” He said lowly as he laid down next to you, a few inches between you. You nodded, accepting that he understood the choreography better than you, and turned towards him. Your eyes followed down the slope of his nose to his eyes that were staring at the ceiling.

It felt strange to lay on the ice in such a vulnerable position and even stranger to be laying next to Park Sunghoon.

“Don’t face me idiot.” He was sighing, without looking at you, and you groaned and turned onto your other side.

“Music cue.” You whispered and he hummed in agreement. The first part of your performance was no doubt the most awkward for you, you understood the physical contact that came with stunts and pair skating but this felt unnecessary and strange.

You rolled your body across the ice closer to Sunghoon until you were climbing overtop of him, both arms out and caging his body so you didn’t touch. He was holding in a laugh as he watched you and you glared down at him.

“This is so stupid.” You muttered and and completed the roll so you were now laying on his right side, close enough to touch now. The position didn’t last long because his next move was to do a similar roll overtop of you, pulling you up with him to a standing position.

“It’s romantic.” He repeated his teasing words from earlier but they felt a lot more intimate now that he was laying on top of you, peering down at you from under his floppy bangs. You suddenly felt the urge to kick him off of you.

“Raise your chest up.” He instructed and you did so robotically causing him to pause and glare at you. “At least attempt to look graceful.”

You groaned and flopped back down against the ice, taking a breath and counting to three before once again sitting up slightly, this time putting more emotion behind your movements.

He nodded softly as he swiftly jumped to a stand over you at the same time you moved, his hands coming up behind you to rest on your shoulder blades. He was awkwardly bent over you in a frozen position, thinking about the next move.

“I forgot.” He mumbled and you sighed, pushing him backwards on his skates and bringing yourself up to stand instead of relying on him.

“I thought you read it genius.” You growled and circled back around to your abandoned script, flipping open the first page and studying it. You glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow at the zoned out look on his face. “I wrap my arms around your neck.”

He seemed to snap out of his gaze and looked over at you quickly. “Yeah then I lift you, I remember.”

You sighed and shook your head in his direction, ignoring the quirk of his dark eyebrow and obvious confusion at your motion. Without another word you turned and started skating back towards the edge of the rink, preparing to silently call it a night and start again tomorrow at practice.

“So that’s all you’ve got then?” You ignored his voice as it echoed from across the ice, by now you were far to use to his quick one lined remarks to truly let it have any effect on you. “Didn’t realize you were so content with losing princess.”

The sound of the ice under your skate was almost deafening as you turned your foot and squealed to a stop, ice flakes kicking up onto your ankles from the force of the abrupt brake.

You spun around and were back in his space in seconds, eyes burning from under your sweaty bangs and he stared down at you with amusement and that competitive fire you were used to seeing from him.

“I don’t lose Park.” You were spitting the words in his direction, the tips of your skates brushing against his with a soft clank that went unheard. You lifted a hand towards his chest and jabbed a finger onto the fabric of his turtleneck, causing him to softly rock backwards a few centimeters. “And I won’t start now so get your shit together and reread the script.”

——

Some mornings you felt almost robotic in the way you could wake up and be at practice before you even registered brushing your teeth, a quick blur of familiarity and installed routine.

Other mornings you wondered how much it would hurt to have to peel your skin from off your mattress, the imagery being the most accurate representation of how it felt to wake up and actually get started.

You were falling somewhere in the middle today, trudging through the lobby of the sports center with puffy eyes and jutted out lips to match. Marching past Coach Suzy, you ignored her furrowed brows.

“What is with the two of you today?” She was calling from behind you and you didn’t need to ask her what she was talking about, catching sight of the other half of her reference already out on the ice and wearing the same clothes from when you’d last saw him. You suppose your question of late night or early morning was answered now.

After you had laced up your skates and pushed out onto the ice, he offered you a quick nod of subtle acknowledgment.

“What.. no morning princess?” You admit you were grumbling as you skated past him, planning to warm up with a few loops around the rink. He caught up to you as you started, skating backwards so he could face you.

“I knew you secretly liked it.” His retort caused you to scoff and turn your eyes into a glare, although you both noted the lack of usual serious intensity. You were too tired to go back and forth with him today and judging off the darkness under his eyes, he was in a similar boat.

“She’s going to run us into the ground today.” You replied with instead, a subtle warning in your voice and he quirked an eyebrow at the casual conversation you were initiating.

“Looking forward to it princess.”

——

You were regretting not taking your own warning more seriously, hours had passed and most the other skaters at the center had packed up and went home, sparing you and your partner a pity filled glance as they left.

Coach Suzy had been relentlessly instructing you repeat and repeat the steps until they were perfection, even stopping you a few dozens times before you’d even completed the first move citing it was “messy and emotionless”.

“Where’s the chemistry.” She was shouting from the sidelines and you sighed loudly from your place above Sunghoon, he was holding you up by your waist for one of the smaller stunts and you felt him peering up at you. “There’s no passion.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You heard Sunghoon muttering as he gently set you back down onto the ice before, not so gently, kicking it with his blade in frustration.

You were standing still on the ice, taking a deep breath and resting your head back to look up at the glass ceiling above you, seeing the blue hue of the sun finishing setting. You wiped the sweat from your forehead and brought your attention back to your coach.

“Tell us how to fake it and we will.” You told her earnestly. You were frustrated that she wasn’t allowing you to fully practice the moves with eachother, despite understanding the need for a show of emotion to capture the audience, what was the point if you fell on your ass during a poorly practiced stunt.

“You can’t fake chemistry princess.” As much as you admired and respected your coach for the years of her life she dedicated towards you and your career, you couldn’t help but flinch at the way she spat the title at you. Her tone was almost mocking as frustration got the best of her.

Sunghoon came into frame, skating forward and placing himself in front of you. You couldn’t see his face but judging by the way your coach’s features softened over his shoulder, you imagined his expression showed he wasn’t happy with the way she was speaking to you.

“I don’t mean to be like this.” She shook her head and wrung her mittened hands together. “There’s lots of reasons here why it’s important for you kids to win…. Stuff we can talk about soon.”

Neither of you spoke for a bit, staring at her off in the distance and still catching your breaths from the intense practice. Sunghoon turned his head to look at you from over his shoulder and you nearly smiled at the familiar fire in his gaze. You nodded at him in confirmation.

“Don’t worry, we’re winning.”

——

“What part of this are you not fucking understanding.” Sunghoon’s irritated yell was hitting the back of your head as you skated a bit away in anger, taking deep breaths and attempting to not escalate the situation. “It’s a simple cascade down, it’s not even a stunt.”

“I understand it asshole.” You were spinning around to face him, your voice coming out loud and bouncing across the ice. “Maybe if you supported me better it’d be easier to want to drop down.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, watching you with downturned eyes behind his messy bangs and catching his breath slightly. Then he was shaking his head and skating towards the edge of the ice, opening the gate and looking back at you expectantly.

You watched him with furrowed eyebrows and a scowl, not understanding what he was silently insinuating or why you would cut practice short after only 6 hours. Only two days had past since the talk with your coach and if anything, you’ve only gotten more hostile towards each other.

“Let’s go.” He eventually spoke with a sigh, annoyed he had to spell it out to you. “I know a place that’s open.”

The place he was referring to was apparently a 24 hour diner placed just two blocks from the center. You’d never seen it before and this didn’t surprise you considering you rarely went anywhere besides practice and home and even more rarely ate out.

You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about eating out somewhere that seemingly only served classic American grease fest and milkshakes, but Sunghoon seemed comfortable and relaxed as he slid into the booth opposite you.

You were questioning now if you’d ever seen him look so casual. Sure, he was known to be friendly and he obviously was no stranger to jokes and teasing but if you saw him here any other time, you’d think he was just a regular student without a care.

This left a weird pit in your stomach considering the fact he wasn’t a regular student and neither were you, and acting like one wouldn’t do you any good when it came to your future or this competition.

Still your thoughts fizzled out when the older waitress wandered over to your table, pocketing her order book with familiarity as she looked at the boy sat across from you.

“Sunghoon, it’s been too long sweetie.” She was smiling brightly down at him and he was glancing at you with a half smirk, you almost sensed bashfulness in his expression. “Is this your girlfriend?”

It took you a second to realize she was referring to you, her warm motherly gaze falling to your side and cocking her head in anticipation for a response. Your mouth parted in surprise as you fumbled for an answer.

“She’s a friend.” Sunghoon rushed out before you could, awkwardly avoiding your gaze picking at the old chipped vinyl on the table. You furrowed your eyebrows at the use of the word. Was he just avoiding more questions or did he actually consider you two to be friends?

The waitress looked between the two of you with a quirked eyebrow and you felt slight annoyance at the teasing glint in her eyes, like she knew something you didn’t. You opted for staring at the table infront of you, watching Sunghoon’s anxious habit. She muttered something about getting his usual and then she was off back into the kitchen.

Sunghoon cleared his throat and you looked up at him from behind your hair. He was watching you, still with an air of awkwardness, and you once again noted how different he looked in this setting.

“Why are we here?” You automatically felt bad at the harshness in your tone and if it was anybody else you’d apologize or take it back. But you could tell that he understood you were frustrated and tired from practice and antsy about wasting time.

“Coach said we don’t have any chemistry.” He explained and you gave him a look that made him chuckle under his breath. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know, I thought maybe we should try to have an actual conversation.”

“We have conversations.” You butt in, shaking your head like it was an obvious statement. You’d known the boy for almost your entire life, even if you were reluctant to admit it, you’d spoken to him more than most people you know.

“When’s my birthday.” His voice penetrated your line of thought and you looked back up at him, slightly shrinking at the question. “Do I have any siblings? Matter of fact, have you ever even seen me outside of the center?”

You were glaring at him as he spoke, although you couldn’t deny what he was saying. You wracked your brain for any counter argument, grasping at straws. “Three years ago I saw you at a 7/11.”

“Woah.” He raised an eyebrow at this and smiled down at you, looking slightly surprised when you offered a small smile back. “What was I doing?”

“Buying snacks.” You gave him a disapproving stare. You weren’t lying about this, much to your surprise you had caught him a few winters ago with two handfuls of restricted snacks and a jumbo soda balanced in his arm.

“And you didn’t rat me out?” He was definitely teasing but you still thought you heard a bit of surprise and truth in his words, like he genuinely expected you to run and tell on him. “Wait, why were you at 7/11?”

For a moment you considered lying, telling him you were getting pain pills or a protein bar but this new excited look on his face was silently urging you to lean into the openness of the conversation.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was buying snacks.” You leaned back in the booth and crossed your arms. A loud laugh pushed past his lips and your eyes widened slightly at the sound, more used to chuckles or scoffs.

His tired gaze softened on you slightly at your surprised expression but before he could speak or continue the conversation, a second waitress was returning with your food (two orders of Sunghoon’s ‘usual’).

You were staring down at the plate with a curious expression, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of food placed in front of you. You could feel his stare on you as you studied it and you lifted an eyebrow without looking up at him. “How do you practice after eating all this?”

He snorted another laugh and unraveled his silverware, leaning forward again to cut up your pancakes. You lifted your gaze to watch him as he did this, sleeves rolled up on his arms and eyes concentrated on his task. After finishing with the pancakes, and taking half for himself, he answered your question vaguely.

“Intensely.” His reply caused you to frown slightly and you were grateful for his habit of avoiding eye contact so he didn’t see the pity in your gaze.

It was no secret to anyone, and especially to you, that your sport was a tough one with intense practice and overall lifestyle. You’d spent more time than you’d admit worrying about the health of other kids you trained with and that included Sunghoon, who always seemed to be working ten times as hard as everybody else.

“How about once a week?”

“What?” He looked confused at your words and paused mid bite of his scrambled eggs, eyeing you with a question in his gaze.

“Once a week we eat here.” You explained, awkwardly toying with a piece of bacon in front of you. “Like… together.”

His silence was driving you crazy and you felt your heart rate increasing with each second that he didn’t respond to you, even with a rejection laugh or an awkward denial at your attempt to get closer. You reminded yourself that this was for the sake of winning and spared him a glance. He was watching you with a familiar smirk and you sighed softly.

“I knew you liked me princess.”

——

A few days had passed since the start of your new weekly ritual with Sunghoon, days full of practice and studying the demo video the two of you had scrapped together the week prior. You were watching it now and even though it was messy and unpolished, you felt semi proud at the way the two of you looked on the ice together.

Picturing it with more practice, the right facial expression and some competition level costumes and you were starting to understand why this was something people were looking forward to. And they definitely were.

Proven by the way a newspaper was smacked onto the ice infront of you, causing you to jump slightly before lowering the iPad and glancing at it to see a poorly edited photo of you and Sunghoon on the cover. You glared down at the paper and the latter mentioned laughed from above you.

“We’re the talk of the town.” You could hear the smile on his face and you pushed the paper away from you.

“I’m pretty sure we have actual photos together.” You mumbled. “Why did they edit it like that?”

You looked up in time to see him shrug and to also take in his attire. He was wearing a form fighting black turtleneck T-shirt that was tucked into his usual sport pants. Your gaze went down to his white gloves and he took notice of your stare, wiggling his fingers mockingly.

“Go change.” You frowned, standing up to reveal your similar outfit, only your shirt was white and your gloves were black, perfectly matching his in opposite colors.

He stared down at you with an annoyed expression and for a second you considered pushing him backwards on his skates, not liking that the toe of yours were nearly touching his. You decided against it at the thought he might trip and fall.

“Less talking, more practice.” You looked over at the new voice to see your coach, her hair messy from the snow outside as she unraveled her red scarf from around her neck. “Oh don’t you two look cute.“

You groaned at her comment referring to your matching outfits, turning and skating away from Sunghoon and over to where she was sitting along the sidelines. You vaguely heard the sound of his skates following behind you and you noted his lack of comment at her teasing remark.

“Did you see this?” You turned the paper towards her direction and she looked up in question, eyes brightening when she caught sight of what you were holding.

“Oh it’s wonderful.” She chirped out and you glanced back at Sunghoon, who mirrored your look of confusion. “It’s even better than I expected.”

“So you knew about it?” Sunghoon voice was closer than you expected it to be and you almost turned around and shoved him away before remembering your coach’s frantic need for you two to cooperate, and your deal made the other night. Still you weren’t quite used to his casual presence yet.

“Knew about it? I asked for it.” She explained and you gave her an incredulous look, shifting your eyes to the photo and bold headline.

Directly above the edited photo of the both of you, adorning crowns and a few photoshopped hearts between you was the large capital words, ‘ICE ROYALTY! ROMANCE ON ICE… AND OFF?’

You let a few beats pass as you stared at the cover, letting her get the read on your feelings towards the situation. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Sunghoon was clearing his throat behind you and you were grateful that he was seemingly going to add his two cents in, in agreement against the article. “I mean… it gets people curious.”

Your mouth parted and you spun around to face him, this time when your skates bumped into eachother you did push him slightly backwards. He seemed to be expecting it and glided a few inches away from you easily, his relaxed expression only adding to your annoyance.

“In what world do we need rumors and idiocy to win this?” You spat at him and his lip turned down for just a second before his eyebrows hardened. “We should be practicing not standing here talking about stupid fake headlines.”

“Oh but you seem pretty content storming out of practice whenever you get a little bit frustrated.” He spat back at you and you faltered for just a second, not expecting such anger directed back towards you. Overwhelmed, your mind shot straight to defense.

“Maybe because you’re impossible to be around.” You hissed towards him, fist clenched at your side. You both fell quiet and you shut your eyes for a second, willing him to say something back so your impulsive words weren’t left hanging in the cold air between you.

“That’s enough.” Your coach’s voice sounded tired but firm and you kept your eyes shut, regret seeping into your skin. You didn’t want to see his expression, regardless if it was hatred or hurt. “No practice for a few days, go home early.”

——

Not being on the ice was making your skin itch and your head feel like it was floating ten feet away from your body on a thin rope. You were thankful for the snow falling outside, accompanying you on cold walks and slightly keeping you grounded. It wasn’t often you had a break from practice and maybe there was times where this was all you wanted, but something felt heavy and wrong about the way things had occurred.

You felt even worse about what you had said to Sunghoon because you had meant it. Maybe not in the way he took, as a personal hit at his character, but definitely in the way that your competitive and insecure nature had crafted up your whole life.

It was almost impossible to be calm and in the right headset with somebody who seemed to be relaxed and carefree despite living the same life as you, you who could barely get through the day without multiple stress driven outburst.

Especially now, standing outside the diner, you realized how much better of a person he was than you. If he had said those words to you, you wouldn’t have shown up tonight. Maybe you would have even begged for a new partner or dramatically switched training halls.

But as you stood wrapped tightly in a thick jacket and a scarf, shaking from the cold and dark walk over here, you stared at the side of his face through the foggy window and took a deep guilty breath.

The entrance bell ringing as you pushed open the frosty door seemed louder than normal and so did the silence that screamed between the two of you as you sat down across from him. He didn’t look at you as you approached and for a moment you wondered if he only came to see if you would.

Then the waitress was circling around and placing a hot drink in front of you, offering you a small smile and a head nod. You managed a confused smile back at her but raised an eyebrow at the drink you didn’t order.

“It’s hot chocolate.” Sunghoon spoke and your eyes widened, shooting up towards him. He was watching you with a careful expression. “It’s cold and you don’t drink coffee.”

You wondered how he knew that about you, when he had observed you enough to have a fact that small stored away. You didn’t voice your confusion, giving him a small nod and taking off your gloves so you could wrap your cold hands around the warm mug.

“I can pull myself out of the competition.” You stopped mid sip as he started to speak, avoiding eye contact with you and fiddling with this thread of his fingerless mittens. “I guess I didn’t realize how hard of a time you were having.”

“I’m not.” You rushed out, immediately flushing at the loud volume of your voice. He looked shocked at your words, watching as you set down the mug carefully and put your elbows on the table. “I’m not having a hard time… well not because of you atleast. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and you were curious what he was thinking about, not for the first time you found yourself wishing he was not so nice, then maybe he’d have a burst of anger and lay everything on you. You wanted him to call you spoiled or rude, anything other than that soft look he was giving you.

“I’ve always had a hard time.” You don’t know where it came from, the sudden personal statement causing him to tilt his head in the terrible, genuinely curious way that he did. You felt an overwhelming sense that if you didn’t tell him something about you right now, that would be it.

“With me?” His eyebrow cocked and yours furrowed.

“No… or yes.” His lip quirked downwards and you hurried to finish your sentence before a repeat of the other day occurred. “Not because of you but because of me. Because I’m jealous of you and how good you are at everything.”

He seemed to take this in for a second before a scoff escaped his lips, the smile on his face letting you know it was semi lighthearted.

“You’re jealous of me?” His shock was genuine and he leaned back in the booth and sucked a breath in through his teeth. The loud hissing sound made you wince. “And all this time I’ve thought the same about you.”

“Oh whatever.” You mumbled, both not believing what he was saying and not feeling comfortable at the unfamiliarity of the back and forth compliment.

“I mean it.“ Something in the way Sunghoon said it made you want to believe him. “You’re like a natural out there. Living up to your title, if I do say so myself.”

“It doesn’t feel natural, and don’t forget who got the title first.” You felt a bit childish to be refusing his attempt at being civil, nice even, but that nasty insecure part of you wouldn’t allow you to take any compliments from him.

“Well I was excited to be paired with you.” He raised his shoulders in a shrug and you watched him carefully from under your eyelashes. He smiled at you awkwardly when you didn’t immediately respond and your lip jutted out into a pout.

“I’m sorry Sunghoon.” The words felt weighted and empty as you forced them out but you truly meant what you were saying and you hoped he could see that beneath your initial tone. He looked slightly taken back at the use of his first name.

Luckily, he nodded at you and leaned forward on his elbows again, pushing your mug back towards you with two steady fingers. You watched his hand as they came closer to your side of the table, feeling a bit embarrassed when the mug stopped infront of you, insinuating he wanted you to finish the warm liquid.

After a beat you glanced up at him and immediately dropped your gaze back down to the steamy cup at the smirk on his face, his fingers lingering for just a moment before retracting back to under the booth.

“Finish, we have work to do.”

——

“Exactly! That’s exactly it right there.” Sunghoon’s excited words barely registered to you over the sound of your loud panting.

You were leaned over, elbows on your knees and eyes closed shut in an attempt to catch your breath. You’d been going at it relentlessly the last few days, nearly perfecting the basic moves but still needing to add the flare the judges would be looking for.

Sunghoon and you had been getting along for the most part, small spurts of bickering and burst of frustration due to complicated moves but nobody has stormed out or lost any fingers, so it was a win in your book.

“Again.” He was chiming from a few feet away and you glared up at him from behind your sweaty bangs causing him to laugh before assuming his position on the floor.

You were slowly becoming used to it now, the close proximity, the faux romance on your expressions. You were a professional and that’s all this truly was, work. But you were feeling slightly childish about the way you couldn’t get use to his hands on you.

Telling yourself it was just awkwardness, maybe even lingering animosity you were holding that made your stomach turn every time his big hand wrapped it’s way around some part of you, you laid on the ice a few feet away from him.

You routinely rolled over top of him, movements robotic as you avoided looking down at him and he tensed slightly.

When it was his turn to do the same, he paused above you and you frowned, waiting for him to move off of you so you could ease into the next portion.

Instead he stayed in place, caging you in as he balanced himself on his forearms. For a second you thought about the core strength it’d require to hold a plank on ice before shaking your head and internally scolding yourself.

“You’re distracted.” He was saying above you and you felt his breath on your cheek, strongly opposing the cold ice your other one was pressed against. His voice was low and telling, not a question.

“No I’m not.” You scoffed, or atleast the best you could considering if you took a deep inhale your chest would press against his. “Maybe you’re distracted.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you looked at him, still refusing to turn your head incase your noses touched. He was looking down at you intensely however and your stomach flipped again.

“I am.” His voice was firm but you looked at him just in time to see his eyes awkwardly shoot around your face, hesitation in his gaze.

You weren’t fully sure what he was implying and you definitely weren’t going to reply without him outright saying that it was you he was distracted by, the presumed humiliation making you furrow your eyebrows.

The thought crossed your mind that he was making fun of you, that he had someone noticed how hard it was for you to focus around him and was trying to bait a confession out of you.

You turned your head finally, not flinching at the way his nose bumped against yours or the sharp inhale he took at the sudden contact. You held his gaze for just a few seconds before starting to speak.

“Get off me Park.”

He faltered for a second like he wasn’t expecting that sort of response, body completely locking above yours before quickly rolling over onto his back next to you and awkwardly sitting up.

“I’m sorry.” He rushed out and you finally took a big breath before also sitting up and avoiding looking at him. He watched as you stood completely and you felt his eyes on you. “I don’t know why I said that Y/N.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You lied smoothly, keeping your voice steady and shrugging softly as you wiped off the ice shavings that was stuck on your leggings. He was still watching you and you heard him sigh in embarrassment.

“From the start?” He eventually muttered and you glanced over at him, shaking your head.

“I have to head out actually.” You tried to keep your tone casual but he looked pained, obviously not falling for your excuse and realizing you were leaving because of what he said. “First thing tomorrow?”

He didn’t say anything but you knew he had heard you and started to skate off the ice, face flushing with awkwardness as you finally took a breath and accessed what had just happened.

If you weren’t mistaken and he wasn’t pulling some sick joke on you, which judging by his mortified reaction you highly doubted that, Park Sunghoon had just attempted to make a pass at you.

Park Sunghoon who, for the better part of your life, had done nothing but drive you absolutely crazy with anger and jealousy. The same boy who thought it was funny to tie your laces together and watch videos of your failed jumps on the waiting rooms big screen.

You were absolutely sickened by the idea of it and even worse, the fact that the red painting your cheeks was not because of anger.

Storming out from the hall into the snowy night, your stomach was twisting again with what you now fully understood was not nauseation.

It was the stone cold realization that you liked Park Sunghoon.

—-

You hadn’t exaggerated on your call for early practice the next day, entering the hall before the sun had even risen yet.

It didn’t help you’d spend the entire night tossing and turning and screaming into your pillow as you replayed the scenario in your head over and over, analyzing every awkward second of silence or quirk of his eyebrows.

You’d come to the conclusion, at some point during your fourth hour of restlessness, that Sunghoon hadn’t been joking and he was absolutely attempting to flirt with you or at least was testing the waters.

This realization was nothing short of crippling and you almost considered not coming in today, making faking a cough or a sore throat. But the clock was ticking on your time to practice before the competition and with this added distraction, you needed all the time you could get.

So it was driving you a bit insane as the second hour passed and Sunghoon still hadn’t arrived to practice. You hadn’t entered the rink yet, anxiously sitting in the locker room with your skates half tied as you rocked your knees back and forth.

You imagined he would be embarrassed, maybe he hadn’t even thought before he spoke and it came across wrong, but for him to not show up at all was something you couldn’t accept.

Before another minute of waiting could pass you were pulling your phone out and doing something you’ve, somehow, never done before and texting him.

y/n : After all this and you aren’t going to show up? I don’t know about you but this is really important to me and I’m sick of the childishness.

You sent the message before you considered how harsh it was, leaning forward and groaning as your forehead hit your knee. Your phone was clutched to your chest as you waited for the buzz to signal he responded.

It never came and you felt your heart sink to your stomach, smushing its way past the irritation and anger you’d been accumulating the past hour.

You flung your skates off with a yell, wincing internally at the loud echoed bang of them hitting the metal seats that rang throughout the room. Standing swiftly, you stuffed them into your locker and slammed it shut before turning on your heel and going to leave.

In your fury driven urgency to get outside you didn’t peer around the corner before rounding it, resulting in you falling back against the floor as you smacked roughly into somebody approaching at the same time.

You let out another loud groan as you hit the floor, head striking the ground that was luckily covered in rubber mats designed for your skates blades. Still, a wave of pain washed over you at the force in which you fell.

“Fuck.” To make matters worse, you immediately registered as he spoke that it was Sunghoon you’d smacked into. He was leaning down to check you, a hand jutted out in an attempt to help you up. “I’m so sorry I’m late, something came up and-“

“I don’t care.” You cut him off in a snap causing his face to drop in guilt. You ignored his outstretched hand and pushed yourself to a standing position. “I’m leaving.”

“Y/N, I really am telling the truth.” He rushed out, eyes big and desperate. You glared at him and tried to move down the exit hall again, behind stopped by his large frame as he stepped sideways in your way.

“Whatever it is I can’t imagine it could be more important than practice.” You felt the irony in your words as you spoke them, wanting to wince at how similar you sounded to your mother but you were acting on anger.

He seemed to realize this now, deflating with a sigh and staring down at you with his sharp eyebrows pulled to the center of his forehead.

“Let me show you.”

——

You weren’t exactly sure how he had managed to get you here considering how hell bent you’d been on avoiding him or strictly practicing, nothing in between.

But somehow, half an hour later, and you were sat frowning in his passenger seat. Your arms were crossed in irritation and you were stiff and tight in the seat, resisting the urge to look around and analyze his car.

Truthfully you hadn’t even realized he knew how to drive, although it suddenly made sense considering you’d never seen a parent of his at the rink and he always was there at odd hours of the night without the cold bitten cheeks you typically had.

Sunghoon had a strong point when he said you didn’t know anything about each other, you knew it was truthful when he had said it but it was weighing on you now as you looked over at him as he drove.

He looked nervous, shoulders higher and more tense than they usually were but he was sat comfortably in his seat, only one hand on the steering wheel like he’d been driving for a long time. You wondered when he had learned, who had taught him or if maybe he’d taught himself.

You’d never thought of Sunghoon as lonely. He was always bouncing around competitions with a bright smile, chatting with judges and opponents and even with your own mother a few times.

You remember being 15, face red and puffy from the tears you’d shed after she’d given you a strict scolding in the bathroom after a low scale contest. He had approached afterwards, ready to throw some quick jabs and comments your way before seeing the look on your face.

Instead he had struck a conversation with her, making funny faces at you over her turned shoulder as she spoke in her familiar harsh tone. You remember laughing into your glove and then watching him as he walked away, trying to catch sight of his mom.

He seemed to know how to handle strict parents so you were curious if he was raised similarly, but you were just left confused as he left the rink by himself.

“See that right there,” Your mother had spoken in a low voice, leaning towards you on the bench. “Some parents don’t even show up to these things, you should be more grateful.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about that now as you pulled into a parking lot, blue hour was settling in now as the afternoon bled on. The drive was just over an hour but it was getting darker sooner in the day as you went deeper into the winter.

He sucked in a breath and you felt him look over at you like he was waiting for you to say something about where you were. You didn’t but you turned your head to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow for an explanation.

It looked like he was considering giving you one for a second and then he changed his mind, taking his keys and getting out of the car. You watched him circle around to your side, opening your door for you and waiting for you to step out.

You silently followed him into the building, passing by a reception desk with a large man who gave Sunghoon a smile and a nod. You stared at his comfortable shoulders as he walked through the winding hallways with ease, clearly familiar with them.

The building resembled a hospital, dull colors and the buzzing of LED lights making your head spin slightly but the similarities between the people in the rooms you were passing told you what it truly was.

Sunghoon stopped infront of a room with a closed door and looked over at you, again like he was expecting you to speak. You didn’t and he eventually sighed and turned to open the door after a beat.

“Sunghoon? Is that you?” You stayed by the door, letting it close softly behind you, as he walked into the room and pulled back a privacy curtain that was hanging from a rod on the ceiling. You froze in place at the sight of the older woman in the bed, machines hooked around her with dull beeps and chimes.

“Yeah Nana.” His voice was lower than you’d heard it before and your eyes went to him as he softly lowered himself to sit on her bed. He glanced at you and waved a hand, signaling for you to come closer.

For a second you wanted to shake your head, to back track out of the room and wait for him down the hall. You didn’t understand why he would take you here, why he would show you this part of his life or what this meant.

But you let your feet fall forward and stepped into her view, breath catching when he outstretched a hand to grab your wrist and pull you closer at a faster pace. The feeling of his skin against yours combined with her questioning gaze made your face flush.

“Oh.” Her mouth parted in shock and you bowed your head slightly with a smile in greeting, not fully trusting yourself to speak. “You must be Y/N.”

Your eyes widened and you looked towards Sunghoon who had a similar expression, hanging his head so he didn’t have to meet your eye.

“You’ve heard about me?” You spoke softly, a louder volume feeling intrusive in the quiet room. The lights were dimmed low and the curtains were drawn giving the space a warm calm atmosphere.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She was smiling at you and reaching out a shaky hand for you to take. You went to lift your left hand and felt the weight of Sunghoon’s on your wrist still, faltering and looking at him.

He looked embarrassed and confused, like he hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto you. He went to remove his grip but you twisted your hand and pulled his into yours, squeezing it tightly. You gave her your free hand instead.

It was a bit jarring to you and out of your element and you felt a bit of panic building in your throat. Being here was strange and Sunghoon being beside you was every stranger.

The weirdest part of all was the absolute care and adoration on this woman’s face, a strange you’d never seen before holding your hand with such delicacy. You felt yourself tear up slightly thinking how nice it must’ve been to grow up with such a person in your life.

You glanced at Sunghoon at this thought, you were still standing beside the bed holding both their hands while he sat and he was already looking at you. He seemed slightly taken back by your glossy eyes but he smiled at you warmly like he understood the reasoning.

And you were realizing now that he did.

It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to you that he was lonely but it was definitely the first time you really processed it. Maybe it was this new found care you had for him, this pull at your heart when you thought back to the boy with nobody to see his competition performances.

“Why are you back here sweetheart.” Sunghoon’s grandmas soft voice was speaking again and you glanced over at her, avoiding his eye contact when you felt his thumb rub the back of your hand.

You suddenly realized this was why he was late, obviously held up in a visit or maybe a medical emergency. Guilt hit you as you remembered your harsh tone and processed the fact he had driven the hour to practice and then turned around and brought you back here.

“I thought it was probably time the two of you met.” He lied naturally, squeezing your hand as if he was signaling for you to go along with it. You didn’t say anything, too busy wondering what all she knew about you, how long had you been a subject of conversation between the two.

You can’t imagine all the conversations were pleasant but her eyes held absolutely no sign of disdain or malice.

“You two must be so busy.” The soft croak in her voice made your stomach hurt and she shakily squeezed your hand causing you to do the same to Sunghoon’s in a ripple effect. You realized she was looking at you for a response.

“It isn’t too bad.” You assured her, smiling softly and you faintly heard Sunghoon scoff from beside you. You glared quickly at him and he lifted his free hand in mock surrender.

“I know it’s tiring.” His grandma was continuing and you looked back over at her, her eyebrows turning inwards. Her expression was shockingly similar to his and you let a heavy silence fall between the three of you.

You were once again wondering what type of things they talked about, if she was looking pained at the thought of her grandsons tiring lifestyle or if he had mentioned something about you and your own strict regimen.

It didn’t feel like the time to ask questions and you especially didn’t think you had the right to curiosity.

You’d shown Sunghoon a lot of coldness in the past few days despite his multiple attempts to get closer, and through that all he still had brought you to such an intimate personal place.

“I won’t keep you long.” Sunghoon and his grandma had been having a low voiced conversation while you were deep in thought but she was louder now, catching your attention and giving you a gentle knowing look.

You squeezed her hand one final time as a goodbye, not fully trusting yourself or your voice. Sunghoon was standing then, shoulder bumping against yours and you were overwhelming aware of the fact he was still holding your hand.

You welcomed it, feeling cold and bitter when the door opened to reveal the harsh white of the nursing homes lights that sharply contrasted Mrs. Parks yellow tinted room.

Without thinking you were pulling his arm closer, so your left hand was wrapped in his and your right arm was holding his sleeve against your chest, practically hugging his arm as you walked.

If the sudden closeness shocked him he didn’t show it, not making a move to remove you even as you passed back through the lobby and out the front doors.

It was darkening now despite it barely being 5pm, the short light of winter days making you colder than you’d ever been. The irony of the princess of the ice saying that didn’t miss you.

He paused when you reached his car and you felt him look at you. He was obviously trying to get a gauge of what you wanted to do considering you were glued to his side. You let him go reluctantly and walked swiftly to the passenger side before pulling yourself up into the car.

He was sitting down by the time you pulled your seatbelt on, starting the engine but not making any move to drive or fully situate himself. You imagined he was waiting for you to say something again and this time you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“She’s nice.” You felt pathetic as you spoke the words, nice not beginning to describe the situation or how you felt but you fell short like always when it came to affection.

Luckily he seemed to know exactly what you meant, something he did a lot you were realizing. He seemed to know when you were truly mad versus just tired and frustrated, he knew your distaste for coffee and he knew how to make you laugh despite your moms scolding.

You watched him as he nodded and tried to contain a fond smile for his grandma, biting his lip softly and forming a small dimple on his cheek.

“Do you come here a lot?” You were talking again and this seemed to take him off guard for just a second before he was neutralizing his expression like he was worried he’d scare you off.

“Everyday.” He was humming and leaning his head back against the seat, turning it lazily to look over at you. Your eyes followed up his jaw to his eyes just in time to see him quirk an eyebrow. “If I can.”

“And you talk about me?”

He snorted a laugh at your bluntness and the suggestion behind your words, eyes squeezing shut in a chuckle. You found yourself almost entranced studying his features.

“Not all the time princess.” The familiar pet name caused a similar reaction to normal, blood surging and stomach turning. You tried to ignore the fact it wasn’t driven by anger like it typically was, something much heavier replacing it now.

“But sometimes?” You pressed forward and leaned your elbow onto the middle console as the leather creaked under the weight. The noise caused his eyes to snap open and look at you, realizing you were closer now as you leaned in his space.

He hummed again and his eyes tracked down your face, similarly to the way you were studying him. “Yeah, sometimes.”

You didn’t say anything, a bit lost for words now that he was looking at you. It had never passed by you that he was handsome, probably the most striking person you’d ever seen in your life but without the usual cloud of anger fogging your mind, he was especially alluring.

“What do you say?” You voice came out as a whisper, almost falling forward from how far you were leaning on your elbows. He wasn’t moving in his seat, watching you unconsciously come closer with tired eyes.

He shrugged and lifted an eyebrow, hand falling forward on the middle console as he let a finger unravel and skim across your forearm.

“What do you say Sunghoon.” You ignored the goosebumps that his touch caused, questioning him further. You almost didn’t care about his answer anymore, you just wanted to hear him talk again.

His gaze hardened at the use of his first name, shifting in his seat but not turning his body to face yours. He kept his head turned towards you however, letting your breath fan his face every time you took a shaky exhale.

“Nothing bad.” He was speaking in a low tone, not fully paying attention to the conversation anymore.

“I want to hear though.”

“I wanna kiss you.” He tensed for a second as the words found their way out of his mouth without him meaning for them to. His shoulders relaxed seeing the way your mouth parted in shock.

You felt like a cold tidal wave had hit you as he spoke, face heating up and then more so when his eyes fell towards your open mouth.

A large part of you instinctively wanted to shut him down, wanted to lean back in your seat and tell him to start the car and prepare for the awkward trip back to the training center.

The other part of you liked the way he looked in a darkening car and less shallowly, liked how he smiled at you when you held his grandmas hand despite you letting out your frustration on him only hours earlier.

“That’s what you and your nana talk about?” You smiled at him as you spoke, a teasing tilt in your voice. Your smile only widened when he let out a breathy laugh and pressed his forehead against yours.

“If I kiss you right now will it ruin everything.” He was whispering and you were suddenly aware of how silent it was in the car, wishing for a low buzzing radio to fill the gaps.

“It might.” You whispered back to him and you felt him raise his eyebrows against yours causing your lips to jut out in a pout.

You felt his fingers dancing along your forearm again and you felt the sudden urge to hold his hand again.

“After we win the competition I’ll kiss you.” He sounded slightly pained in his words but you heard that familiar competitive fire that was typically directed towards you.

“Or you could do it now.” You felt slightly pathetic at the whine in your voice and he made it even worse by smiling at the sound of it.

“If I do it now we might not make it home.” He had a slight groan to his voice and your stomach flipped again.

You hastily shifted your arm off the middle console to fumble around for his hand, opting for wrapping your grip around his wrist again. He glanced down at it for a second before looking back up at you.

Slightly embarrassed, you felt your cheeks heating up at your actions but the warmth of his smooth skin was addicting now that you’d actually felt it outside of practice with skin tight clothes. Paired with his suggestive words and you were a goner when it came to common sense.

“How good is your self restraint?” You eventually opted for another teasing comment, not quite sure you were charming enough to directly respond to his comment without embarrassing yourself.

“When it comes to you?” His eyes flashed with something and you briefly wondered how long he’d been thinking about this or if it was as recent of a development as it was for you. “Terrible.”

“I want to… kiss you too.” You almost face palmed at your own words, how utterly stupid and childish they sounded. He had to have figured you didn’t know how to do this, he’d only spent your entire life seeing how busy you constantly were.

He smiled at you, a genuine toothy smile that made you want to scream in embarrassment. Luckily he didn’t seem to be making fun of you and was just genuinely amused by your awkward comment.

And he was. He liked seeing sides of you he’d only caught in passing, he liked that you were teasing back with him and not pulling away or snapping into fight mode at his presence. He especially liked the way your small hand was gripping tightly onto his wrist like you were so desperate to touch him, he wasn’t allowed to remove it for even a minute.

“We’ve gotta head back princess.” You could tell by the way he said that it was his final decision but you relished in the impatience in his eyes.

He leaned back in his seat again, leaving you leaned over the console still and short of breath before flopping back against the leather and waiting for him to pull out of the parking lot.

A few seconds of silence passed and you looked at him in question, raising an eyebrow at the fact he was looking at you in waiting. You followed the way his eyes looked down and saw his hand outstretched towards you.

You definitely were bright red now, looking away but taking his hand in yours as he finally started the drive back home.

—

He’d pulled up to the center after an hour of silence and shy hand squeezes. You were thankful for his silence, more than anything needing a bit of time to think about what had happened in the past few days.

It didn’t seem like it was weighing on him as much, he seemed nervous and excited but not as much thrown off as you felt. You wondered if there was a reasoning behind that or if you he was just really good at pretending to be casual.

You were terrible at being casual, further proved by the way you’re nearly choked as his hand found it’s way to the small of your back while leading you through the parking lot and into the building.

A week ago you would have thrown him off of you and said something about how you already knew the way in and didn’t need him to show you.

You thought about it for a second, just a small second, when you passed through the lobby and your coach came into view. She was practically blowing smoke as she caught sight of the two of you and started to shake her head in anger.

“Oh so now you show up.” She spat and you froze in place, step faltering at the aggressive way she was approaching. “You think you can just skip a whole entire afternoon of practice just because you’ve gotten some good scores in your career.”

Your frown was deepening and you felt the childish urge to curl in on yourself. You’d been in such a happiness cloud since this morning and you felt like you’d been pushed off a sharp cliff back into reality.

And she was absolutely right. It was stupid to skip practice even if it proved to be extremely important and beneficial to you.

“Watch what you say.” Sunghoon was spitting back at her and taking a small step forward, his hand sliding from your back to rest on your waist. Her eyes followed the movement but you couldn’t read her expression.

“Distracted.” She spat the single word, knowing the impact of it. Knowing that was the one thing you were not supposed to be, absolutely never allowed to be. “You’re fucking distracted.”

“And so what if she is.” You’d never heard Sunghoon so angry and you wanted to grab his shoulder and pull him back, wanted to calm him down so he didn’t get reprimanded too. “She’s spent everyday of her entire life focused on one thing, it was barely a few hours.”

“A few hours turns into more.” She was practically screeching now and a few other skaters were sending you apologetic glances and scurrying away. “This is a distraction”

You felt tears well up as she gestured between the two of you, a look of anger and disgust on her face.

“Aren’t you the one who paid for this.” You were confused what Sunghoon was referring to before you remembered the news article she had ordered. A surge of anger flashed through you at the reminder, the pure hypocrisy in what she was saying.

She could spin your love life however she pleased when it was beneficial to her and her career overview but forbids you from actually spending any time with anybody other than the ice.

You didn’t want to listen to her anymore, squeezing Sunghoon’s arm in an attempt to draw his attention away and calm him down. He didn’t look at you for a second, keeping his hard glare locked on her.

She wasn’t his coach so there wasn’t anything she could directly do to punish him. Nothing besides her ability to pull you from the pair skate or request a different partner for you, severely hurting your chances of winning and his yearly average.

“I told you about this.” Her voice was nearly a whisper with the way she hissed it through her clenched teeth. You thought she was talking to you for a second but she was holding Sunghoon’s gaze tightly.

Your hand fell from his arm in confusion, not understanding what she was referring to.

“I don’t give a fuck what you told me.” He spat back and took a small step back towards you again.

You took a step to the side before you even realized you were moving away from him, only processing it when he turned to look at you with a hurt expression. You felt guilty but something about the unknown of their words was leaving a heavy pit in your stomach.

“Y/N, we can talk about this later…. Alone.” Your coach was sighing and despite your anger with her you were glad she knew when to remove herself from a situation.

You held Sunghoon’s gaze as she walked off, presumably leaving the center. He spared a quick glance in her direction to make sure she was gone before looking back at you with that same expression.

“What’s wrong.” His voice was weak and confused, a sharp contrast to the way he was just throwing daggers at Suzy.

“What is she talking about?”

He seemed thrown off for a second, taking a second to think before understanding passed over his face. He took a step towards you, a hand jutted out in your direction. Your lips formed a frown but you took his hand and waited for him to speak.

“At the beginning of the season,” He cleared his throat and your stomach turned with nerves. Maybe she had instructed him to flirt with you, to attempt closeness with you for a better performance. “Before she officially picked me, she sat me down and told me I needed to keep my feelings out of it.”

“What feelings?” You shook your head in confusion, still not fully understanding. “Like with the way we fight? That doesn’t make any sense, wouldn’t she be happy to see us civil then?”

“It wasn’t about that.” He sighed and you watched his cheeks slowly redden as his eyes anxiously shifted to avoid looking at you. “She said she could tell I… was into you and she didn’t want me to become something you focused on outside of being your skate partner.”

You pondered the thought of what he was saying for a few beats of silence, almost feeling more confused at the explanation. If you were correct then he seemed to be insinuating existing feelings towards you, and enough for other people to notice.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.” He sighed again and you felt his hand uncomfortably flex in yours. “All these years of working up the nerve I figured it would be some big romantic gesture.”

He was telling a joke but his voice lacked all humor, a hint of anger seeping in like his plans had been ruined.

“What the hell are you talking about Sunghoon.” Your voice was breathy and slightly irritated, sick of everybody’s vague wordings. “You sound like you’re inlove with me or something.”

Your scoff trailed off when he didn’t say anything. You had expected him to laugh at the thought, say a teasing remark or anything at all. He stopped looking around and watched you with a strange expression, like he was waiting for you to piece things together.

You felt your mouth parting softly and you slowly dropped his hands, he didn’t try to grab yours again and gave you your space as you tried to process what he was seemingly saying.

Park Sunghoon seemed to be insinuating, or atleast not denying the fact, that he was inlove with you and had been for more than a few years.

The thought of this made you feel sick and dizzy and you almost grabbed him for support as your knees weakened.

You weren’t quite sure if it was a good sick or a bad sick. On one hand you were excited, your newly discovered liking towards him and desperation to explore this new territory driving forward the giddiness you felt at the thought of him liking you back.

On the other hand you felt disgusted. Both at yourself for missing the signs, maybe spending years hurting him with your rude comments and refusal to learn anything about him. But also at him for not telling you or even hinting it from what you could see, half the fights you’d gotten in throughout the years had been started by him.

“Since when?” Your voice came out stern and his eyes creased at the way your face scrunched up in confusion and anger.

He was shaking his head and taking a step towards you, immediately backtracking when he realized he had done so. You were watching him and waiting for a response that you weren’t sure was coming considering he was starting to look pained at the thought of telling you.

“It doesn’t matter.” He proved you right as he continued to shake his head. “It’s not a distraction, you only knew because I fucked up the other day at practice.”

“That was a fuck up?” You scoffed at him, anger making you ignore the fact that he was right and you yourself had treated it like he made a mistake.

“It shouldn’t have happened like that. I waited all this time it was selfish for me to do it now, I don’t know why I did.” He was trying to explain himself but it was just confusing you further. “I just couldn’t help myself, I don’t know, being around you like this is making me feel crazy.”

He was talking like a lovesick teenager and your stomach was lurching at the fact that might just be the case.

You don’t understand how he hid it so well, or even when he had started to realize his feelings and plan to keep them a secret. Why would he put himself through such a thing for so long and then risk it all by accepting to be your partner.

A wave of guilt washed over you again as you raked through all your memories with Sunghoon with this new added knowledge. He must’ve been so hurt while pretending like he didn’t care that you were so mean to eachother.

“Please tell me since when.” You tried to soften your voice, your anger not even directed at him in the first place just the circumstance.

“I don’t know.” His voice broke when he said it like it was a question he’d asked himself a dozen times. He took a big breath and deflated. “Probably since the first time I saw you with your little pink skates, who knows.”

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds and were suddenly hyper aware that you were having this conversation in the middle of the lobby, tears brewing in your eyes as your hands started to shake.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Sunghoon’s voice was desperate and earnest, like he felt guilty for falling inlove with you which made you feel ten times worse about the whole situation.

“Will you take me home?” You looked up at him with wet eyelashes just in time to see shock pass over his face. He clearly wasn’t expecting such a casual conversation change, especially one that entailed you spending more time alone together today.

Still, he softened as he looked at you and nodded his head slowly like he was waiting for you to change your mind. You both stood still even after his agreement, in a slight daze from the intense emotions you’d been feeling. He nodded again, more to himself this time, and you felt his hand against the small of your back starting to lead you back outside.

Neither of you spoke when you felt the cold air outside and still when he opened the passenger door for you and helped you climb into seat. He watched you for a second before closing the door and circling the car to get into his own spot.

It felt dramatically different in the space than it had only a few hours before, the giggly excited tension replaced with silence and heavy air. You were so out of it you didn’t even notice he didn’t ask for directions to your apartment.

When you realized you’d been driving for a few minutes you were confused, wondering when he had learned the way to your place, before realizing you weren’t heading in the direction you’d normally come from.

You immediately figured he was taking you to his house instead and for some reason you didn’t want to object. Despite being confused and angry and feeling slightly betrayed at this kept secret, you were comfortable and familiar in his presence and almost felt addicted to being around him.

Besides you know that there was nothing this warm and caring waiting for you back home. If your mother was there at all, she was bound to throw a massive fit over you missing practice.

It was worrying to you that you couldn’t find a single piece of care inside of you about missing practice. If anything, your chest was light and airy underneath all the pain and you weren’t sure it’d ever felt this stress free in your life.

You were slowly understanding why you were never given a break, why a day off was unacceptable. Maybe they were fearful you’d fully realize how much better you’d feel without this force of pressure and expectation.

Sunghoon wasn’t the reason you were distracted, at least not from the competition, and once you were able to speak again you wanted him to understand that.

Eventually you were pulling up to an apartment building, similar to yours but slightly on the other side of town. Sunghoon was looking over at you again, waiting for a sign you were ready to get out of the car.

You opened your own door and briefly saw him nod from the corner of your eye, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping outside back into the bitter air.

You awkwardly followed behind him as he unlocked the main set of doors with a keycard, walking down a long plain hallway until he stopped at a door with a small penguin welcome mat infront of it. He looked at it and then back at you and he seemed pleased at the amusement in your eyes.

When he unlocked the door you were suddenly hit with the fact you were about to see where he lived and quickly wondered who he lived with. You weren’t sure you were ready to hold an awkward conversation with his parents about why you were going in their sons room.

You realized immediately upon walking in, however, that that was not the case at all. The apartment was comfortable but small, far too small to house a family even if he had no siblings. You watched him kick his shoes off into a slot in the empty rack and hang his keys up on the singular hook.

He started down the entrance hallway before stopping when he realized you weren’t following behind him. He looked over his shoulder at you and tensed up at the sad expression on your face.

“What?” The tone of his voice told you that he already knew what you were thinking without you having to say it.

“I didn’t know you lived alone.” You tried to keep the pity out of your words, a casual tone coming off awkward and deliberate.

He scoffed at your attempt and for a moment you were reminded of who exactly you were standing here with, a glimpse of the familiar rival you were more used to startling you slightly.

He didn’t say anything in response, just waving a hand to signal for you to move into the main living space. You followed quickly after removing your shoes, taking in the larger room with widened eyes.

Something about it was very Sunghoon, despite being plain and quiet. The yellow toned lights and CD’s on the coffee table catching your attention as you shuffled into the warm room.

“You seemed out of it.” He was starting from behind you. He didn’t sound close but a chill ran through you at the thought of him watching you. “I didn’t feel right bringing you home alone, I hope that’s okay.”

You turned to look at him and your heart tugged at his sad tired expression. He was looking at you intensely, you figured it must be weird to see you in such a familiar setting. You jutted a hand out in his direction and he looked down at it with surprise.

“I didn’t want to go home.” Your voice was low and soft, the silence of the room outside of the heater running was reminding you of his grandma’s and it felt wrong to have a higher volume.

His head cocked slightly but he took your hand in his, letting out a shaky breath when you squeezed it tightly and pulled on his hand so he’d come closer to you. He was standing far away so your arms were stuck straight out, like he wasn’t sure he was actually allowed to touch you.

You tugged him again and he stumbled closer to you, his big hand instinctively coming to rest on your waist and then falling again in a haste. You frowned at his reaction and then realized he must be feeling confused.

“What are you thinking about?” You kept your voice quiet and soft and he looked down at you with that same pained expression. You let go of his hand and put both of yours flat on his chest, feeling the way his heart beat raced and hiccuped.

You were once again impressed by his ability to mask how he felt, if you weren’t looking at him so intensely or touching him, you’d have no idea he was feeling this upset.

“I don’t know.” He whispered and he sounded honest. His hand hesitatingly went back to your waist, feeling awkward at the way his arms dangled at his sides while you touched him.

“I want to be here.” You felt the sudden urge to reassure him on this despite not being sure if that’s what was bothering him or just the situation in general.

“For how long?” Frustration laced his words and you didn’t understand for a few seconds. First you assumed he meant how long you wanted to stay but you quickly realized he was asking how long you’ve wanted to be around him.

You felt guilt creep up considering you weren’t sure what answer to give him because you weren’t even sure yourself when things had changed for you. You don’t think it was a sudden dramatic realization after he tried to flirt with you like you originally thought.

Thinking back on your life now, Sunghoon and this rivalry has been the most consistent thing you’ve ever known. You’d search for him at competitions and you’d spend weekends thinking about what insults to throw at him next time you saw him.

This could’ve been a childish fued, maybe even bordering on actual dislike sometimes, if it wasn’t for everything else.

You were no stranger to finding him attractive, bitterly acknowledging it every time you saw him. You remember when you were entering your teens and he was shooting up in height and his features were sharpening, scrolling his instagram at the time and scowling at photos of him surrounded by similarly attractive people.

You thought back to staring at his hands in the diner and the fondness you felt watching him juggle an armful of forbidden snacks in that 7/11. A fondness that left you so dazed you had completely forgotten to act as an enemy and rat him out to the coaches.

As hard as it was to admit, even to yourself, you weren’t ice skating because it was your passion. It didn’t get you out of bed in the morning or light a fire under your skin in excitement. You did it because it was what people wanted for you and because you liked to win, you liked how people talked about you when you won.

Sunghoon was a breath of fresh air from the pressure, he never cared if you won or lost, in fact he didn’t want you winning half the time.

He didn’t talk to you like you were a project, a robot prodigy who didn’t have room for love or care and he didn’t walk on eggshells around you like you were some royal princess needing only the best treatment.

You wouldn’t sit here and tell Sunghoon you knew how he’s felt all these years, you wouldn’t lie and say you’d been pining over him too and it has always been set in stone for you but a large part of you feels like maybe you knew it all along.

“I can’t say.” You answered honestly even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But I am here now Sunghoon.”

You felt his hands tensing against your sides, instinctively squeezing like he was worried you’d disappear now. You wanted to ask him the things you should have years ago, you wanted to know why he lived alone and how long he’s come back to this empty room after hours of hard practice.

You felt guilty again for missing the signs. His familiarity at a random diner, clearly frequently there alone. Always being at the rink at random times like nobody was expecting him home or worried he was overworking himself.

Another part of you was relieved now, holding this knowledge tightly with the determination to change this and be there for him regardless if you yourself were considering not returning to the ice.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” He was saying and shaking his head. It was strange seeing him so self deprecating.

“You told me now.” You affirmed and one of your hands slid up his chest to hold his face, making him look at you and see the sincerity in your eyes. “I know now and I didn’t go anywhere.”

He nodded and you were worried he was going to cry, eyes shaking as he looked down at you and leaned into your touch against his cheek.

So you did the one thing you could think of, the thing you were practically craving only a few hours earlier, and you surged forward on your toes to kiss him.

He was taken back by your sudden proximity, tensing up when he felt your lips against his and then more so when you rocked back onto your flat feet and awkwardly waited for him to say something.

His mouth parted a few times like he was going to speak but after a second or two passed his eyes were hardening with that familiar determination and he was kissing you.

Kissing you with a desperation of somebody who’d been thinking about it for a long time, hands sliding behind your back to pull you closer and tighter against him.

You smiled against him, his mouth sliding against yours as he kissed you deeper. Your hand that was on his face went to his hair and you felt a shudder run through him at the feeling.

He pulled back to look at you, pressing his forehead against yours like he did in the car and breathing heavily as he looked down at you.

“I love you.” He rushed it out like it was his only chance to say it and then immediately shut his eyes tight like he was embarrassed. “You don’t need to say anything back I just needed to finally say it out loud to someone other than my grandma.”

“Are we going to talk about your grandma everytime you’re about to kiss me?” You laughed and he smiled at you, squeezing your front against him.

“No definitely not.” And he kissed you again.

——

The next week was probably the most stressful of your entire life, which was pretty impressive considering how your childhood and early adult years were basically one big intense competition.

Having to tell not only your coach for the last decade that you were quitting, but also your mother, was probably scarier than any stunt you could attempt.

Coach Suzy, as it turns out, seemed to be expecting it and told you that she was planning to retire once this year’s competitions were over. She apologized for being so harsh on you at times and especially for losing her temper due to her own stress and insecurities.

You forgave her and wrapped her in a tight hug but you could feel Sunghoon glaring at her from behind your back.

Sunghoon had been beyond helpful during the process, both legitimately with the paper work it required and removing yourself from data and emotionally. It wasn’t easy to admit to yourself you were done doing the only thing you’d ever been good at.

“You’re good at lots of things.” He was telling you for probably the tenth time this week. You were laying in his bed, hand in his as he played with your fingers.

You’ve learned a lot about him with all the time you’ve been spending, not everything of course but every new bit of information was exciting to you. You liked seeing him in different moods and settings, this one being your favorite.

You liked him best like this, his now dark hair messily splayed against his pillow, still smelling like sleep and the coffee on his bedside table. You liked the way his fingers sleepily played with the shirt you were wearing, which was of course his, and tugged on it.

“Yeah but I don’t know what.” You were sighing and rolling onto your stomach so you could look at him directly

He was smiling at you with a lazy toothy grin, sitting up just a little against the headboard to be able to see your face better. He leaned his head back and shrugged.

“You never had a chance to be good at something else, it doesn’t mean you’re not princess.” You flushed at his casual words and he noticed, leaning down to kiss your head and laugh. “I knew you liked that.”

“Shut up.” You were grumbling and resting your chin on his chest once he sat back again. “Maybe I did a little but I almost gagged the first time it made me blush.”

He was letting out a throaty laugh and you felt your face vibrate as his chest moved making you laugh quietly with him. He looked pretty like this and you liked the way his dark hair looked, having gone so long without seeing it.

Your tired laughs naturally died down and you turned your head so your cheek was on his chest instead, feeling him breathe and listening to his heart pick up in speed every so often.

“Will you come with when I talk to my mom?” You weren’t embarrassed at the childish hint in your voice, knowing he’d understand why this was way scarier than the other parts.

“Anything for you.” He was still smiling at you but he sounded serious, hand in your hair now as he played with it and kept it out of your face.

It made your stomach flip when he said it because you knew he meant it. He’d been beyond caring and helpful even letting you stay with him, doing quick stops at your apartment after you’d made sure your moms car wasn’t around so you could get some clothes and necessities.

He didn’t seem to mind the company at all, always smiling at you in the mornings and when he came home from the rink to the sight of you on his couch watching a movie or doing the dishes in the kitchen.

He’d even taken you to see his grandma a few more times. He really did mean it when he said he went every day, only missing a single night when it all hit you and you couldn’t stop crying. You felt awful the next morning he’d stay with you and begged him to apologize to her for you when he asked you to come along.

She had a soft knowing smile when you walked in behind him, patting her bed for you to sit and giving you advice on what to say to your mother.

“She’s your mother honey, she’ll love you no matter what you choose to do.” She had whispered to you and you felt your heart crack with the knowledge that wasn’t quite true.

“Her moms a lot like dad.” Sunghoon was mumbling from behind you, he was standing with his hands on your shoulder as you sat on the bed. You weren’t quite sure what that referred to but his grandmas mouth parted in understanding.

“Then there’s nothing you can do.” Her sharp flip in opinion made you glance back at Sunghoon. He gave you a look like he would explain later and you hesitantly looked away. “You can’t live for her, there’s no right there. You need to live for yourself and accept that relationship as a loss.”

You were replaying her words in your mind on a loop as you stood outside your door, suddenly feeling like a stranger who needed to knock before entering. It was never homely but this was the first time you truly realized how cold it felt here.

You knew Sunghoon was right behind you, giving you some space incase you were overwhelmed or felt like you needed to change your mind, but you reached your hand back for confirmation and took a deep breath when you felt his warm hand in yours.

Waiting with baited breath, your knuckles stung from the knocks against the door. You were bouncing your foot anxiously and counting each second before she opened the door.

For just a split second you saw shock and relief pass over her face before it was twisting up in anger and disgust.

“How dare you come here?” She was spitting towards you and you wanted to flinch back away from her, holding your resolve and letting her finish her comments. “And with him of all people.”

When she turned her murderous gaze towards Sunghoon, something was set off in you and you stepped to the side to block him from her view with a glare. She seemed taken back by this, used to you being paralyzed by guilt and fear.

“If you’re here to apologize I don’t want to hear it.” She hissed at you after the shock passed, her anger only building now at your defiance.

“I have nothing to apologize for.” You spat back at her, stuttering slightly with anxiousness. You felt Sunghoon squeeze your hand in his and take a step closer to you and you took a deep calming breath before continuing with a stronger tone. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m here to get my stuff and then we won’t have to see each other again.”

You weren’t sure where this came from, not having made any plans with Sunghoon to stay with him longer. A wave of insecurity hit you at the idea you were overstaying your welcome and he was going to deny you, leaving you with no choice but to find somewhere else to stay with. You had some distant family but you can’t imagine they’d be too ecstatic about taking on an adult with no job.

“And where on earth are you planning to go.” Your mother did what she did best and caught sight of your insecurity, magnifying it with a knowing sneer. “Nobody will want you, ‘ex prodigy’ won’t get you in anywhere.”

“She’s staying with me.” Sunghoon’s voice came from over your shoulder and you felt his front press against you, his hand on your shoulder to steady you. He was having a hard time seeing you like this, anger surging through him as he watched you go weak from fear.

“I want her and she can stay for as long as she needs to. We are just here to get her stuff, like she’s already told you.” His voice was hard and dark, your moms eyes flashing up at him with angry eyes as he spoke so firmly.

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you almost thought she’d turn you away and leave you with absolutely nothing to your name. Eventually, however, she took a step to the side of the doorway and waved the two of you in.

Sunghoon gave you a loaded glance once you were in your living room, you nodded at him and he made his way down the hall to your room while you stayed back with your mother.

“I see he knows his way around.” She scoffed at you and glared at his back as he walked away.

“It’s my house too.” You muttered back at her. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He ruined you.” She barely let you finish your sentence before she was snapping at you, a finger being raised and pointed in your face. “This is all his fault.”

“This is your fault.” You felt tears well up in your eyes again and shook your head. “If you stopped being a coach and tried being my mother for just one second you would’ve realized that before it was too late.”

“You think he’ll keep you around?” She was twisting her face with a nasty sneer as she took another step towards you. “Regardless how I feel about him, that boy is talented. You think he’ll want you even when he’s an Olympic winner and you’re working a part time job?”

You knew she was wrong, that everything she was saying was so out of Sunghoon’s character and would disgust him just at the thought. But her ability to look into the deepest part of you and see your darkest fears caused you to tense up.

“He loves me.” Was all you could bring yourself to say, willingly him to hurry up and come back out here so the two of you could leave already.

“Yeah, love.” She laughed at the word like the idea of anybody loving you was ridiculous. “You don’t think I loved you? You think this was all for me… that I wanted to be a mean coach.”

She didn’t seem to notice her own contradictions, calling herself your coach right after saying she had loved you. She was getting angry again, wanting to continue this argument and prove you wrong. You were exhausted of it, knowing what Sunghoon’s grandma said was completely right.

“You didn’t love me.” Your voice was firm and certain, leaving no room for denial. “But not because of anything I did wrong.”

You saw Sunghoon over her shoulder, waiting in the hallway with a few boxes and a backpack over his shoulder. He was trying not to listen in on your conversation but also seemingly ready to step in.

He caught your eye and you smiled at him, despite your teary eyes, he could tell you felt relieved and that you were ready to move on from this part of your life. There was no right path here, and in skating, and that was okay.

Your mother didn’t say anything else, not even when he came over to you or when you held the door for him so he didn’t drop any of your boxes. She didn’t close the door after you’d left and you didn’t look back at her as she watched you get in his car and drive away from the only home you’d known.

“I don’t actually have to stay with you if it’s not okay.” You were whispering while he drove. “Thank you for saying it though, saved me from a lot of embarrassment.”

He looked over at you like you’d gone crazy, frowning and shaking his head. He was taking a hand off the wheel and grabbing your still shaky one that was resting on your knee.

“Of course you can stay with me princess.” His voice was serious but warm and you squeezed his hand in yours, suddenly overwhelmed with care and affection.

Maybe not the only home.