#Fare Arena

[pianokantzart]

I thought Asterix had a rough go of it in The Mansions of The Gods until I sat down and watched the Asterix and Obelix vs Ceaser live action movie from 1999

and WOW you guys weren’t kidding…

[m0thisonfire]

Please, god, either give me the strength to endure or let this game release early.

[qazastra]

well-researched article about why and how this is happening

The result is a dynamic in which the rich shell out top dollar to see major acts while working-class fans grow increasingly disillusioned with the music industry.

[arting-block]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | vi x f!reader

❝maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at caitlyn. then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you.❞

summary: you've seen vi around as a kid. always at arms length, observing from afar. now she's back, angry and bitter after her stunt with the kiramman heir. you see each other once more. this time as an opponent in the pit. or rather vi and reader fuck each other's lights out.

pairing: pitfighter!vi x pitfighter!reader

warnings: ARCANE S2 ACT 2 SPOILERS, SMUT, angst (unhappy ending whoops), porn with too much plot, depictions of violence, reader has tattoos and scars, afab!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, boxing being used as foreplay, switch!vi, switch!reader, slight brat taming, oral (vi receiving), biting kink, spit kink, knife kink (if you squint), light bondage, finger fucking, vi is obsessed with your tongue, you're obsessed with her fingers

words: 10.2K

a/n: i've crawled out of the trenches and spat out a smutty fic for my glorious muscle queen. there's some plot in there, but it's mostly just filler to bring out the tension teehee. if there's demand, i'll make a part two, maybe more ;). post divider credit: @cafekitsune

Your body felt cold as the nerves settled in. 

The crowd’s uproar can be heard above you, wild cheers and screaming that blends into nonsense. The thumping of shoes on the ceiling above you syncs with your wild heart. The announcer is amplifying their excitement, spewing out the bets in place. Two thousand golden hexes and five hundred silver cogs for you—Arachnid. You instinctively reached for your shoulder, where the design of your tattoo was exposed. The skin along your back rises as the cheers for you overwhelm the arena. Investors from Zaun come together for their favorite fighter. Yours keeps you on a tight leash, pushing you into each fight to get more, more, more.  

You adjust the bandages around your knuckles. You twist your body, stretching the aching muscles until you’re loosened up. Occupying your time before the gates to the tunnels lift. Your heart races, pounding against your ribs. You’ve been a pit fighter for a little over two years. Before that you were tumbling through the undercity engaging in street brawls for food. Fighting wasn’t new to you, yet you were bouncing off the walls with anxiety. 

You were in relatively good shape to fight. A few days of rest and some shimmer got you back on your feet from your last fight. Black Hog was a beast up close but you managed to put up a good show. Normally you wouldn’t be put up against someone of a different weight class, but you were desperate for money. You won the fight with a broken rib and bruised face. Your investor, Parvata, had a gleam in her eyes that soured your victory. 

“Seems as though the spider likes big game,” she drawled, taking a long drag of her cigar. “We’ll see how well you fare against Gord’s fighters. I hear he’s got a prodigy in his ranks. A girl, ex-enforcer, I hear.”

Gord was talking up a storm about his fighters, but you had a feeling the feud between Parvata and him went deeper. Your stunt with Black Hog proved to her that you had skill. A chance for her to settle the score. 

Parvata didn’t know much about Gord’s prodigy. You, on the other hand, had an inkling of who she was. 

You can’t exactly say you were friends with Vi growing up. Your parents knew Benzo and in turn knew Vander as well. Vi and her friends were often away, either in Piltover or across Zaun to gods know where. Interactions with her were rare and short-lived; cordial and surface-level. You exchanged names, glances, laughs, but you weren’t friends. You’ve heard whispers over the years. Vi getting arrested and going to Stillwater. A few years later she is barreling down Zaun with the Kiramman heir. Now the whispers are saying she’s back in Zaun permanently. Fighting in pits for low wages and shit beer. 

You crack your neck, feeling the bones pop and shift. Was she still the spitfire kid you’d see running through the slums? Does she still have her choppy hair brushed to one side? You roll your shoulders back, flexing the muscles, feeling them tighten under your damp skin. 

Will she even remember you?

More cheers erupt as the announcer lists off your opponent’s bets. One thousand golden hexes and eight hundred silver cogs. You have a feeling that more money would be added at the split second before the fight begins. You force yourself to take a few breaths. Focus. Focus. 

You hear the familiar blare of an alarm. A sharp, loud sound that cuts all noise. Your heart spikes—the start of the show. The walls start to vibrate with the noise of the crowd. 

The announcer taps his mic, bringing the attention of the people eagerly awaiting 

Metal gears whirr and the bright lights of the area spill into the tunnel. 

“Spinning webs of tangled limbs is her name!” the announcer says. “Speed and lethality is her game! Give it up for Piltover’s all-around champion—Arachnid!”

You step into the area with all the masked confidence you can muster. The sounds of the crowd are deafening. Hundreds of people crammed into their seats, pushing against one another to get a clear view of you. In their hands they wave black tickets with a red spider in the middle. The air is thick with sweat and alcohol. You pull on your bandage again, tightening the wrappings around your hand. Light patches of blood are dotted along your knuckles. 

“And now for the whirlwind that took this pit by surprise…” The crowd is at the edge of their seats, the noise is bordering on ear-splitting. “The Iron Fist of Zaun!” the announcer yells. 

The gates across from you start to lift and you see a shadow approaching the pit. Your breath catches in your throat. 

Haunting. Everything about Vi is so unlike what you imagined that your brows rise. Dark hair dye is messily applied to her usually vibrant pink hair. Smudges of black were smeared across her face like she applied it with her eyes closed. Your eyes can’t help but drift along her exposed neck, collarbone, and arms. Tattoos and bandages scattered across her skin. 

Vi’s step falters. A wave of shock passes her face before a narrow look settles into her features. 

The wide-eyed, toothy grinned girl was gone. Her dark lips curled down, her nose scrunches slightly as she takes apart the view of you. Wherever bandages don’t cover, you see an array of purple bruises and silvery scars along the canvas of her skin. The harsh lighting of the pit cuts her muscles in such a way that makes her look carved from marble. 

Your breath catches in your throat at her heavy, predatory gaze. Bright blue eyes never leave your face. 

DING!

The starting bell shocks you out of your nerves. In an instant your anxiety evaporates and an odd thrill overtakes you. Instinctively you raise your hands near your face, letting your arms and legs feel loose as you get into a fighting stance. Vi’s expression is unreadable as she leisurely walks the perimeter of the arena. Her eyes dip towards your body. She lingers on the spot near your exposed stomach, a jagged scar that disappears under your pants. 

You take the opportunity to attack. Vi mirrors your raised hands, expecting you to hit her head on. Instead, you duck at the last minute, colliding your shin to her knee. 

— — —

The bag of coins is hefty, more so than you’re used to. 

Your finger digs through the gold and silver; one thousand and fifty golden hexes; four hundred and fifty-five silver cogs. More than enough to cover rent and food for the next three months. 

You don’t bother with a jacket to shield yourself from the heavy downpour, opting to skip the festivities and head straight back home. Your usual thirty minute commute is delayed by the aches in your hip and abdomen. If you weren’t so well versed in getting hit, Vi’s punches would’ve been lethal. 

Gord had every right to brag about his fighter's prowess. Vi was by far the deadliest opponent you’d ever faced. The aim of the game is the knockout, not to kill, but you know the refs aren’t going to get between two skilled fighters with a lust for blood in their eyes. You were all teeth and nails, more animal than human in that pit. It was hard to get into Vi’s blind spots and even harder to accurately land any good punches. You were backed into defense for most of the fight. Vi probably hoped to tire you out before delivering the finishing blow. 

You can tell if someone fights because they enjoy it. There’s a crazed look in their eyes as they try to trap you into continually dodging or blocking their assault. You fight for survival, even if you have some love for the game. Fighting is what kept you alive all these years. It pays the bills, keeps a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food on the table... 

Vi is clearly using fighting as an outlet. You were just unfortunate enough to be her punching bag. 

In a maneuver that damn near pulled a muscle in your back, you used the wall for momentum to jump on top of Vi. Your legs wrapped securely over her hardened biceps and your arms locked her head. Your chest pressed against the hard planes of her traps.  You could feel the heavy thud of Vi’s heart. Choking someone out wasn’t as near of a spectacle as Parvata would’ve liked, but you won the fight without a concussion. 

The rain poured harder as your shaky hands fumble for your keys. The fight ended an hour ago. You let out a string of curses as you try to find the correct key you needed. Cold air stiffens your fingers and your exhaustion is starting to take over. Or so you tell yourself. 

Sweat, blood, and alcohol. That was what the pit smelled like. Thick and hanging on your tongue like smog. 

Your fingers finally latched onto the right key, jamming it into the lock and forcing your way inside. 

Vi was a furnace. Her back radiates warmth as if to scorch you alive. The imprint of her arms still aches between your thighs. Like the pit, she too smelled of sweat, blood, and alcohol. Bernie’s Brew, the cheap shit from the bar above the arena. But there was a sweet musk to her skin. More intoxicating than any liquor. 

The speed at which you rip your clothes off makes your already overused muscles burn more. There’s an inexplicable urge to scrub your skin raw, erasing the phantom smells of Vi off of your skin. You let the cold water fall onto your heated skin. 

You wondered if Vi could feel the burn of your core on her lower back. 

— — —

It takes one week for Parvata to start hounding your ass about returning to work. 

Pit fighting wasn’t all that you did, though it made you the most money. In between brutal takedowns you would run errands around Zaun for her. Debt collecting. In the sweaty arena, at least there was glory to be had when fighting. In the damp houses of the undercity where everyone is barely scraping enough money to even live, it sours your mood for the entire day. There’s no glory to forcing a single father to cough up his last few golden hexes. Which wouldn’t even make a dent in his debt to Parvata. The sight used to make you feel guilty. After a few years of it though, you’ve gotten used to the angry yelling, the sob stories, the begging for one more week to get more money. 

When you find yourself back into the pit, it wasn’t Vi you were up against. 

You ignore the pang of disappointment and let yourself run loose. All the tension and frustration from your day was unleashed. One of your better performances. A right hook slammed into your jaw and a knee found its way into your ribs. But you delivered a well-placed kick to the side of their neck. The lanky man with snake tattoos fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. 

DING DING DING

The ring of the bell announces you as the winner. You hear the chant of your name, the howls of laughter as Rondo is dragged off the floor still unconscious. 

Tonight’s crowd is exceptionally packed. Friday nights usually are. The harsh lights above you make the masses of people blur into a single entity. Various warbles of words blending together. You don’t know why you scanned the crowd. You don’t know why your eyes immediately drifted to your right, pulled by an unknown magnetic force. But it does. 

First you see a burly man with his arms crossed. His face is hard and his physique is like a brick; rectangular and sturdy. He’s looking at you in curiosity. 

Then you see the dark outline of Vi. Your skin burns when you realize she’s already staring at you. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. She doesn’t seem to be particularly impressed by you. Her hands are in her pockets as she holds your intense gaze. The man next to her leans over and whispers in her ear. Her eyes never leave yours as she replies. Their conversation is muddled by the cramped people around them. 

For a second, the smell of the pit mingles with the memory of you pressed against her. Her strong back flexing beneath you as she tries to buck you off. The wild look in her eyes when she realizes what you were doing. Your heart beats faster, and not because of the adrenaline. 

You break the spell between you, stomping into the tunnel and weaving towards the exit. 

— — —

It carries on for a few weeks. 

You can never tell if Gord is pushing Vi to fight more or if Vi willingly puts herself through hell every other day. The Iron Fist of Zaun is always in rotation, more so than any other fighter. It’s gotten to the point where people are betting how long Vi could remain undefeated. You’d assume that Parvata would try to push you to fight her again, just to win the bets against her. She doesn’t. With it, no good pay. 

You find yourself settled in the crowds instead of in the pit itself. You don’t join in on the cheers or booing. Guy after guy, match after match. A few missed punches, a nice fist to the face, and the sharp ding of Gord’s bell. Just when you think that there will be no more matches for the night, Vi comes slaughtering in view. 

You hate how you immediately perk up, watching how she goes for a punch that knocks a metal jaw off of someone. A single punch. In less than a minute the fight is over and the crowd goes crazy. Vi’s sweaty back faces you. Her entire upper back is exposed and you now have a clearer view of the beautiful tattoo that adorns her skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. A cruel, taunting voice whispers that you wish to trace the wet muscle along the inked skin. Smelling her, tasting her—

You were unprepared for Vi to turn around and hone in on your spot in the crowd. As if she knew you were there, watching her from the shadows. You can’t help but observe the steady rise and fall of her sweaty chest. A bead of sweat making a tantalizing trail down her cheek and dropping between the swell of her breasts. Your mouth dries, suddenly parched. 

Something hot and wanting stirs inside of you. Vi must’ve seen it on your face because her usual scorned face shifts to a teasing smirk. 

A referee motions her towards the tunnels and Vi’s gaze momentarily leaves you. The spotlight is stripped away from you and you feel like you can finally breathe. Your clothes feel too warm—too tight along your body. Her gaze alone is a fire and you want to feel its burn. 

You part the crowd, trying to find the familiar door that leads down to the gate tunnels. 

A rough hand shoots out from behind, yanking you towards the exit. 

— — —

In a strange twist of events, Parvata ends up finding use for you outside of the ring. J’kepie’s bloodied body is dragged into the stale office and Parvata drips off the badge on his jacket. She drags you by the collar and jabs the pin into your leather jacket. Her insignia; a mountain range with a star above it. Head debt collector. 

“Consider this your promotion,” she growls, blowing smoke into your face. “Do well and you’ll get double the pay. Triple if you don’t ask questions” 

You know better than to fight her on this. So you nod. 

— — —

An entire month passes before you find yourself back in the pit. 

Debt collecting—you soon realized—was a misleading title. A glorified mercenary. If that bastard were still alive you would use your mechanical webbing to string him out on the lamppost by his neck. A client paid good money for J’kepie’s services, only to fail miserably. You weren’t allowed a day of rest,  swept up in Parvata’s circle. Caught in the webs of political alliances, drug wars, and hush money payments. After weeks of slaving away, you had finally stomped out the last of the client’s enemies. 

Your reward? Thirty-thousand golden hexes and a weekend off. 

You were at your wits end. The money you earned paled in comparison to the headache of cleaning up J’Kepie’s mess. You were constantly relying on yourself to do the work of over twenty people. You didn’t know how Parvata made it this long with such incompetent drones. At least she always kept true to her word. With the money you have saved up, you were able to buy a bigger home with a working shower. Food isn’t a scarcity anymore and your clothes were brand new.

You don’t know why your mind constantly drifts to the smelly arena tucked in the slums of Zaun. It’s not like you particularly loved fighting. It’s something to keep you occupied. Zaun was a vicious cycle of violence; of dirty tricks and guerilla warfare. In the pit, the only rules were to use your fist, your brain, and nothing else. Your only chance to take control of that cycle and make something out of it. 

Between the long days with blood caking your face, your mind wanders. Not to the thrill of the fight or the satisfaction, but to the angry phantom with piercing blue eyes and a warmth that rivaled the sun. She appears in your dreams with rough hands, calloused from years of fighting. Her fingers dance along any exposed skin; tracing your tattoos with the heavy weight of her tongue. Your back would arch, chasing her touch that she would so readily give you. Hoping that she catches your skin with her teeth, marking, biting—

Morning slips into night and your worn shoes carry you from your (somewhat) cushy apartment to the graffitied building that vibrates with music. Parvata doesn’t accompany you or even mentions for you to continue fighting. Too many loose ends to burn off. With her gone, no substantial money will be placed in your favor.  

You didn’t want the money. You were angry; itching to let off steam. To gather up your frustration and let it boil over the surface until there’s nothing left of you. 

At least that’s what you’re hoping for. 

“Sorry kid, all available fights are booked up.” 

You force an inhale, keeping your voice as even as you can. “C’mon, you know I’m one of Parvata’s. One fight that’s all I ask.” 

The old lady doesn’t lift her eyes from her book. Her eyes drift from one side to the next at a snail’s pace. “I know who you are, kid. Seems like you’re without your owner too. Doesn’t budge the fact that all fights are booked. Can’t you read?” She jerks a thumb to the sign next to her. 

NO SLOTS AVAILABLE

Below the sign was a list of the available matches. Your heart spikes at the words, “Iron Fist” being scribbled in for the first match. Her opponent is none other than Rondo. 

Gears start to turn in your head. 

With a final huff, the old lady tugs a metal string, pulling a sheet of metal over her kiosk. Your nails dig into your wrapped palm, trying to keep yourself from punching the glass. If your fist doesn’t connect to someone’s face soon, you are going to end up in Stillwater by midnight. Not even Pavarta would come save your sorry ass. 

“Fifteen minutes before it’s showtime!” the speakers blare out. 

People have already started to make their way inside through the front entrance. Red tickets in their hands, waving them around excitedly. A recurring color you’d see as you pass by. The sounds of music and cheering can be heard inside, enticing you in. 

You were going to fight whether that old bitch likes it or not.

— — —

Going through the crowd of people was going to shave down the limited time you had. There were multiple entries into the building reserved for staff and VIP members. Fighters typically use the main entrance or go through one of the VIP doors if they’re accompanied by their sponsor. Parvata was away doing gods know what and you didn’t want to fumble through sweaty bodies. The shortest route would be sneaking into the kitchen. 

The lock to the kitchen easily clicked open after a few twists of your hooked pin. Fridays means more people to feed so most of the staff were preoccupied enough to not care about you sliding between them. You breeze past chefs and waiters as you make your way through. A bit far removed from the main event, but you still have ten minutes before it starts. On the other side of the kitchen was a discreet door with small red trim on the bottom. No one looked your way as you opened it. 

The air is considerably colder here. You let muscle memory carry you through the damp corridors until the familiar waiting room comes into view. The door to the room opens and a tall man with snakes coiling his neck steps out. You quickly press against the wall, out of sight. 

A gruff voice calls out to the man: “Will you be back in time? Ten minutes is gonna go by real quick.”

“Just gon’ take a piss,” Rondo grunts, flicking the end of his cigarette to the floor. The door slams shut and he retreats further down the hallway.  

You use the shadows to your advantage, following him like a ghost.

— — —

Vi downs the last half of her beer. The third one today.

Her fifth fight this week. By anyone's standards, that’s too little time to recover. A restless night between each match and shit beer won’t do her any good, but she can’t find it within herself to care. Loris does at least. That’s good enough for both of them. The burn the beer leaves behind gives her the buzz she needs to carry on. Not enough to get her shit-face (not yet at least), but just enough for her body to feel loosened up.

To ease the pain Cait had left behind. Even if it’s only temporary. In the early days, all she could see was the dark blue hair and sharp face of Cait hiding between people. Her face lingered, festering the hurt in her chest until all she could do was sob into her pillows at night. She stopped, only because something else was distracting her. Keeping her afloat in the sea of her grief. 

Another ghost of her past. A hazy memory from bygone days. Where Powder was still her sister; Claggor and Mylo were still pains in her ass; Vander would pour her favorite juice after a successful trip. Sometimes Vi would come home to see you perched up on the bar. Your legs would swing on the stool as you talked to one of her friends. She would mostly see you with Ekko, letting him rattle off your ear until he couldn’t breathe. Rarely would she interact with you, let alone talk to you. She never would’ve admitted to it then, but she was intimidated by you. A pretty, shy girl with a bright smile is enough to make anyone fumble over their words. You were her first crush, for years she was haunted by you. She realized that far too late when your parents had died. You drifted from them. From Ekko, Powder, and her (even if you didn’t know it). You kept in touch with Benzo for a while before he too died. 

Vi wasn’t close enough to know where you’d gone. 

Her fondness for you lingered. During her years in Stillwater she thought of your animated conversations. Short-lived as they were, Vi replayed those talks in her head. Your laugh would tease her in dreams. Your soft hands tracing the scars along her body with love and care. Your kisses would be as sweet as your laugh. By the time Cait had busted her out of that dingy cell, the dreams fizzled out until you were just another memory in her mind. 

Cait was different. While you were just a daydream, Cait was something real to Vi. It wasn’t just a simple crush between the two of them. Not love either, but something different. A trust in each other. Someone to count on when the world turns against them. When the end of her gun slammed into Vi’s abdomen, it felt worse than any punch to her face. Cait took the trust between them, ripped it with her teeth, and spat it out without a second thought. When Cait left Zaun, a piece of Vi went along with her. 

Pit fighting seemed like the only natural outlet for Vi. Why not take the only thing she’s good at and use it to distract herself? It seemed like a good plan at the time. Loris didn’t say much about it, but he knew that she was stubborn enough to follow through with or without him. It worked well enough. Loud music and cheers drowning out the pounding of her heart and the whispers of Cait’s voice. 

But then you appeared across from her. A ghost turned real and tangible. The shy girl who would scream at the sight of any bug had grown up to be a fighter. Outwitting her strength in a way that stole her breath—literally. You were deadly, even as Vi had you cornered with whip-fast punches. When you jumped on her back, compressing her body between your legs, her head at the mercy of your arms, Vi’s anger evaporated. In a mere five minutes you did what no other substance could: make her forget about her heartbreak completely. 

Maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at Caitlyn. Then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you. 

— — —

Vi enters the pit in sync with the announcer. 

Per routine she automatically starts to rake through the crowd. A mesh of excited faces with their mouths open, screaming her name until their throat grows hoarse. Vi would see your face at every match, watching like a hawk. Your visits grew shorter and shorter. A month ago you stopped coming. Still, Vi grazed over the seats, hoping to see you lingering in the shadows. 

When her eyes fail to see you, her shoulders sag imperceptibly. 

“Get ready for the Piltover Boxing Leagues’ middleweight fighter—Rondo!”. 

Her brain short-circuits when you walk to the arena. The crowd goes wild at your appearance, shouting your name in hopes you would look their way. Instead you held Vi’s shocked gaze. Something is different about you. A look of hunger flashes in your eyes, a determination that was absent when you first fought. Vi forgets about Caitlyn’s betrayal; the feeling of her lips pressed against hers; her toned, lithe body molding against Vi’s torso. 

Vi forgets it all when you stand in front of her. It was forever ago when she had that childhood crush on you. All pure, sweet, and innocent. Something else blooms in her body. Not love, trust, or the fleeting whispers of her old crush on you. A different feeling. A steady heat that slowly overtakes her body. A curiosity that nips at her mind. The urge to pick you apart, analyzing everything that makes you tick. To back you against the wall with nowhere to run. 

Vi’s attention was solely on you. Only you. There’s a spackle of blood across your face and a fading bruise near your temple. She raises her hands near face and you do the same. A charged energy ignites between you two and with it comes a newfound passion. A desire to win. 

DING

Your muscles snap into place as you bolt forward. Vi meets you halfway, sending a hard punch straight to your face. 

— — —

The lights above you strain your eyes. A dull ringing is present in your ears and you feel your body involuntarily swaying to the bass of the music. Vi is not much better. She’s breathing considerably harder now with a fresh bruise on her chest. There’s a noticeable strain in her hip from where you’ve kicked. For the better part of five minutes the two of you were locked into a series of punches, kicks, and scratches. Vi’s body was more rock than flesh. You jabbed every sharp corner of your body into her, slowing her down enough to send your elbow to the side of her head. Vi retreats, putting distance between you two. One of Vi’s hand wrappings came undone thanks to your teeth, leaving her bruised knuckles exposed. 

You circle each other, trying to catch your breath. Vi is terrible at guarding vital parts of her body, but she makes up for it in explosive punches and a speed that rivals your own. Your body is tense, threatening to lock up from exhaustion. You keep your fighting stance, watching Vi’s every move in case she tries to pull another fast combo on you. 

You’re starting to understand why people have a passion for this—the fight. Not just showing off cool moves or delighting in beating someone up just for the sake of it. Not for survival or just as a way to let out all the pent up energy in your body. 

For the first time in your life, you’ve met an opponent who is skilled. In most circumstances you are engaged with people who utilize strength or weapons with little regard to finesse. You stood out to Parvata for your ability to out maneuver, outwit, and overcome opponents who otherwise have the bigger advantage. The thrill that came from a fight would wear off and slowly that high became less and less potent. Each fight felt the same as the last. 

Fighting became a chore, a job to do in order to get money. Pavarta signs and you show up. Dull. Repetitive. Redundant. 

Vi was your perfect antithesis. A break in a mind-numbing routine. Where you attack, she finds a way to block. When you falter she’s hot on your heels. You know she remembers you. You can feel it in the way her gaze keeps falling down your body and back up to your face. Even as you’re trying to knock her teeth in. She doesn’t let her familiarity with you cloud her judgement and you find yourself appreciating it. You’re glad to know that with each punch, she truly means it. 

A blink is all it took for Vi to come swinging once more. You twist out of the way and ram your fist into her side. Vi grunts out, elbowing you in the back. The sharp angle of her joint sends a wave of pain. You fall to the ground, barely catching yourself with weak arms. Vi doesn’t give you time to recover. Her steel-toe boot kicks your side, hard enough to make all the air leave your lungs at once. Pain shoots everywhere. 

With a huff you bring your leg out, swiping her ankle until she’s on the ground with you. It’s a struggle to try to get on top of her. Her mouth in a snarl as she tries to fight you off. 

Much of her intimidation comes with her being on two feet. On the ground, however, she’s flailing. 

You force yourself past her arms and settle your weight on her chest. Vi tries to punch your abdomen but you redirect her punch. Your nails dig into the wrapping and undo it. When her other hand tries to land a hit, you take the loose end of her wrapping and bind her wrists together; caught in a web of your doing. You slam her bound arms above her head onto the concrete. The sound is so crisp that the ringing in your ears cease. 

Vi is full-on thrashing beneath you. She jerks and writhes, desperately trying to buck you off of her. It doesn’t work, of course. You lean closer, taking in the messy makeup, the silver nose ring, the small scars across her face. She’s surprised, her mouth parts to let out frustrated huffs. Her once soft blue eyes are overtaken by her dilated pupils.

She stops shifting beneath you and it’s then that you realize that you’re fully seated on top of her breasts. Your core is settled on top of her sternum, the wild pulse no doubt could be felt by her. The heat is all consuming. A sickening shock goes down your spine and with it comes the familiar ache of arousal. Vi’s gaze is no longer surprised or panicked. Hunger is written as clear as day in her darkened eyes. 

The referee runs beside you, slamming his hand on the ground. Once. Twice. 

The final slam declares you the victor. 

DING DING DING

— — —

Vi is no stranger to being roughly handled. Seven years in prison didn’t exactly go by smoothly. Hell, these past few weeks were filled with nothing but split knuckles and a mind-numbing headache. You were all coiled muscle and snapping teeth in the ring. Vi was wholeheartedly expecting to be dragged off to an empty room and be devoured by you.

But you continue to give her more surprises. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” you say, leading her out of the building. A soft invitation that was so unlike your behavior when fighting. It’s the first time in years since she’s heard you speak. Directly at her, no less. Vi’s brows draw into a furrow and your lips tilt to a smile. “It’s a bit of a walk, but I know your place doesn’t have good heating.” 

The adrenaline from the fight starts to dissipate, and so does the innate want in her body. She can think clearly now.

Vi stops in her tracks, glaring. “Stalkin’ me much?”

“I’ve been fighting in that pit longer than you, Vi.” Her heart flutters with the mention of her name. You continue walking, kicking rocks out of your way. “It doesn’t exactly pay you much. I had two jobs and could barely keep the water running. Plus, you don’t seem to wash out that makeup.”

“I do.” She doesn’t. You give her a smirk to let her know that you see through her bullshit. You tug on her naked wrist. Warm and tender, like she’s a piece of glass. She lets you. 

You greatly understated how much walking there was to your place. Vi doesn’t complain in the slightest, especially if it means talking to you for longer. Occasionally you would point out a new restaurant that opened or a brothel that many Piltover elites would favor. You’re easy to talk to, she concludes. Sometime during the walk, your hands joined together. Wound tightly, swaying in tandem with your steps. She doesn’t deny that you’re an entirely different person, but there’s part of the old you that remains. You’re still talkative. A trait that Vi often finds annoying, but with you it falls under the category of endearing. Your smiles light up your face, as small as they are. 

Your apartment is better than Vi had pictured in her head. Spacious with high windows and modest furniture. It’s cozy, intimate. More so than when Vi entered Caitlyn’s home. In Piltover, Vi is painfully aware that she doesn’t belong. Everything bad in her life traces back to the gilded city with gleaming white buildings and blue skies. No matter how much money you seem to make (which Vi guesses is a lot more than you make it out to be), you’re a Zaunite through and through. 

Maybe the three mile hike through the Lanes was worth it, Vi thinks wryly.  

The lock to your door clicks shut and Vi is fully aware that she’s alone with you. 

You lean against the wall, kicking off your shoes. The perpetual twilight of Zaun makes your body glow. You peel off the jacket with that shiny gold badge, revealing your bruised body. Your tank top is tight along your chest, emphasizing your body in a way that makes Vi’s face darken. Her fingers curl inside of the pockets of her jacket, itching to touch you. 

“Something the matter?” you ask. A genuine question seeing as how Vi’s face is pinched, focused on you. The darkness of the room makes her look angry. 

Before you can open your mouth again, Vi crosses the room until she’s all that you see. Her hands, rough and calloused like you imagined, find the hem of your top. Your breath is caught in your throat, your body jolting at the contact. Her thumb gently follows the skin along your hip bone—the jagged scar that caught her attention all those weeks ago. You feel her trace imprint of your scar, her thumb teasing the edge of your pants where it continues. 

“Been wonderin’ how far this goes,” she murmurs. She flickers up at your face, hesitating just a bit. Waiting for your permission. 

Your face is warm and your smile is full of teeth. “Why don’t you fuck me to find out?” you challenge. 

Vi wastes no time in slotting your bodies together. Your response is immediate. Your hands slide up her abs, trailing upwards until they knot in her dark hair. Vi groans into you, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth. The sound she emits makes your spine tingle. Vi’s warmth is all consuming. Her hands are everywhere—your hips, the small of your back, your ass—mapping out your body’s topography with her eyes closed. She’s eager to have you close, to feel you, claim you. 

A bit too eager with the way she’s pressing against your lips so hard that you think they’ll bruise. But with the way she’s groping your ass you don’t even have the will to care. 

The leather jacket around Vi’s shoulders is pushed away by your hands. Using Vi’s hair as a leash, you tug her head back, forcing her to reveal her neck to you. You latch onto the soft patch of skin just below her jaw. Vi keens, gripping onto your hips like a vice. 

Her skin is still tacky with sweat. The salt dissolves with your open mouth kisses. Your teeth gently nip the hollow of her throat until the vessels beneath her skin breath. A mark; ownership. Vi jolts when she feels your tongue, hot and needy, drag along the column of her neck. If it wasn’t for your tight grip onto her, Vi is certain that her knees would’ve given out right then and there. 

You jerk her back, harder this time. Vi releases her hold on you. Her eyes are glazed over, her eyes dilated once again. You hook a finger onto a loop in her pants and drag her deeper into your apartment. Vi stumbles, trying her best to get her shaky legs to move faster. You barely felt her up and already she’s been reduced to a horny mess. 

Vi is far from inexperienced. She had a rotation of girls in her prison block vying for her attention, begging for a quick fuck in a supply closet or in the showers. She’s no stranger to being touched, to have a tongue slide into her mouth, or being groped. She doesn’t understand why it feels different when it comes to you. Why is she buzzing with excitement when the door to your room squeaks open? Why does her heart skip a beat when you shove her onto your bed? Why the fuck does she let out a pathetic whine when you lift up your tank top, revealing your bare chest to her? 

You crawl on top of her to kiss her again. It’s slower, precise, but equally as firm. Vi knows she’s strong enough to tug you closer, but the way your tongue keeps sliding against her own makes her head foggy. When you pull away, an obvious trail of spit connects you two. With a single hand you pop open the button on her jeans. Cold anticipation fills her. 

“Wanna take my time with you,” you say against her swollen lips. There’s a raw edge to your voice that lets Vi know that you’re desperate for her too. 

A glint of metal catches Vi’s eyes as you pull out a small knife from your pants. With the precision of a surgeon, you slice open the bandages that cover her chest. The muscles of her abdomen flex when your knife cuts a touch too close to her skin. The layers of wrappings fall open like a flower in bloom, revealing her bare torso to you. 

You kiss along her neck once more. Your lips carve a path down to the middle of her sternum. Wet, sloppy, occasionally accompanied by the glide of your tongue. Vi’s hips involuntarily jerk upwards, trying to alleviate the ache of her core. 

“You’re such a—ah—fucking tease,” she huffs. 

You hum against the underside of her breast. “So impatient,” you chide with a gentle nip of her skin. “Not unlike your fighting style.” 

All words of protest die in Vi’s throat when you take a nipple into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bud, watching Vi arch into you. You can’t help but grin at her disheveled state. You palm her other breast, twisting the hardening nipple with your fingers. One of Vi’s hands flies to her mouth, trying to silence the higher pitched gasps and moans. 

You pinch her nipple a little harder. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll stop.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she whines. 

You cup her clothed pussy, digging your hand harshly against the crest of her slit. The moan that escapes Vi is music to your ears. “I’m trying to be nice Vi. I want to hear every noise you make.” You punctuate your words with another roll of your hand. “Can you do that for me baby?”

A few more slides of your hand and Vi gives a weak nod of affirmation. Satisfied, you continue your trail down her torso. You’re a drug. You must be. Your lips alone are undoing her, fanning the flames of her desire in a way that no one else could. With every tender bruise, your tongue gently prods it with a cruel grin. Vi keeps her hands fisted in your sheets, trying to please your demands of hearing her. She’s not used to receiving; being at the mercy of someone during sex. It’s as foreign of a concept to her as living her life in Piltover with an ivory tower and silk clothes. She’s not used to being beaten in a game she’s good at, especially not to the same person. Not with fighting and certainly not through sex. But you managed to do it anyway. 

You’re an enigma to her. Opposite to her in such a way that leaves her aching. Oil and water, yet you find a way to compliment her. Separated by time, but equal when together. Her match in a ring, and her match in bed it seems. 

Vi lifts herself on her forearms, watching you with rapt attention when your mouth leaves her body. You move to her feet, undoing the tight laces of her boots and tossing them onto the floor. Once her other shoe hits the ground with a loud thud, you’ve finally reached the faint trail of hair under her belly button with a soft kiss. Your teeth catch the fly of her zipper and pull it down. The sharp sound made her heart pound faster. You tug onto her pants and underwear, Vi lifting her hips to help you slide them off her body. 

Cold air hits her cunt and she sucks in a breath. Your lips part in awe, seeing the proof of her desire leaking out of her entrance. You settle between her legs, placing your hand on the corded muscle of her thighs to keep her spread for you. You watch her opening clench around nothing, practically begging you to put your mouth on it. Apparently, you were staring a second too long. 

“You gonna watch or are you gonna fuck me?” Vi snaps, already fed up with your prolonged teasing. Her cheeks are flushed as her eyes challenge yours. “Don’t tell me you forgot how to eat pussy.”

Vi grins at your displeased face, happy to see your assured confidence crack just a little. 

You give her a sharp glare, but that only seems to stir a spark of rebellion against your cruel tyranny. You certainly can’t have that. 

So you press your thumb against her puffy clit and watch as her jaw goes slack. 

“Could you repeat that?” you ask with mock innocence. You let your thumb gather some of her slick and gently rub her crest. A wordless gasp leaves Vi as you continue your slow ministrations. “Something the matter, Vi? Spider got your tongue?” Your thumb is pressing against her harder, almost to the point of pain. You shake your head with faux sympathy, clicking your tongue. “Poor thing’s been neglected. I barely touched you and you’re already ruining my sheets. Maybe I should leave you here so I can prevent a mess.” 

A strained noise of protest escapes from Vi. Too caught up in pleasure to see past your obvious bluff.  “Don’t you dare…f-fuck! Don’t you dare stop—shit.”  

“You’re not in the position to be making demands,” you state, emphasized with a light pinch of her clit. Vi bucks her hips into your hand, trying to get as much friction out of you. 

“‘M sorry…won’t do it again—ah—promise!” 

As much as you want to prolong her suffering, you’re too selfish to deprive yourself of good pussy just to prove a point. Next time, you think to yourself. If there will be a next time. You push down that thought, focusing on the growing slick accumulating in your palm. Vi whines when your hand leaves, but quickly swallows any scathing words when she feels your tongue drag along her slit. Kitten licks and kisses along her pussy makes Vi more desperate. But it’s not enough to release the pressure in her core. You continue to tease her even as she’s starting to grow frustrated. You would prod her tight entrance with your tongue, only to retreat a few seconds later. You watch with a grin at Vi’s mounting frustrations, wanting to test her patience with you. 

When you latch onto her clit, sucking it gently, Vi damn near sobs in relief. 

You’re a god. That’s the only explanation. Your saliva holds a magical elixir that sends her nerves ablaze and makes her mind go blank. If this was a ploy to get her to join your cult, she’ll be attending mass every day of the damn week just to experience your mouth on her cunt, no questions asked. Your firm hold on her thighs keeps her from crushing your skull between them. In a few minutes she’s already starting to shake. 

When you add a finger to the mix, Vi is making sounds she never thought capable of. It takes a few tries to find the right spot, but when you do, you’re merciless. Your finger and mouth working in sync to bring her to the height of her pleasure. The pressure between Vi’s legs threatens to snap. Her body winding tighter, tighter, tighter—

Vi chants your name like a prayer. Broken wails that plead for your grace; to give her sweet relief to the pain you had also caused her. “Please, please, please! I can’t…fuck, I need to cum! Please—”

Who are you to deny a beautiful woman’s cries? You add in a second finger, never faltering in your brutal assault. Vi’s pussy clamps down on your fingers—the only warning of her impending descent. 

The pressure explodes outwards. Energy ripples through her body in powerful waves until she’s left shivering. Vi’s back arches off the bed as she cries out your name, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Her strong legs wrapping around your head, suffocating you with her body and essence. Cum gushes onto your face and fingers as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. Only when she parts her legs and starts to jerk her hips away do you stop.

Vi is left shaky, her chest struggling to inhale deeply. Still, she hauls you from her legs and pulls you in for a kiss. She lets out a groan at the taste of her sex on your lips. 

You give her one more peck before pulling away slightly. “Forgotten how to eat pussy, huh?”

The look in Vi’s eyes tells you that she doesn’t regret it one bit. “Worth it to have you prove it to me.” 

“You’re a brat, you know that?” you say, exasperated. 

Vi grabs hold of your waist and rolls you on your back. She doesn’t bother teasing you with nips and open mouth kisses along your body. You were right to call her impatient as she fumbles with your belt. There’s a fire behind those blue eyes of hers, a look of ambition and cunning.  

Before you could question her motives, Vi grabs both of your wrists and mounts on top of you. You feel the clink of your belt as Vi wraps them around your wrists, tying them to your metal headboard. In the span of a few seconds, she manages to secure you to your bed, completely at her mercy. Her slick core rubs against your stomach as you helplessly pull against your restraints. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you ask. 

Vi’s hand travels appreciatively down your chest, stopping you giving your breasts a squeeze. “Repaying the favor.” She wears the same look as she does in the ring. Halfway between a glare and a look of curiosity. 

Vi shifts off of you, relieving your body of her weight. Instead she settles between your legs, much like how you did before. 

You tilt your chin out, glaring up at her. “You think that you’re in charge now just because you restrained me?” 

“I do, actually.”

You’d be lying if you said you don’t find it incredibly hot to be at the complete mercy of someone like Vi. Still, you hoped to have your streak of conquering Vi to be undefeated, at least for the night. Vi is too busy tracing her fingers along your body, mentally counting all the scars she could see on your body. You try to not let it show that her seeking fingers have an effect on you, however your traitorous skin erupts in goosebumps wherever her finger travels. Vi takes her time visually appreciating her body. She enjoys the feeling of warm flesh beneath her fingers, the subtle shivers whenever she finds a particularly sore spot. 

“So beautiful,” she whispers, almost to herself. “Been wanting this for so long.”

A shallow chuckle escapes you. “Since you saw me in the pit?”

You whimper softly when she kneads the soft mounds of your breasts.  Her brows furrow and her movements falter for a moment. 

“Before that,” she corrects, in a serious tone that shocks you. 

It takes a moment for the implication of her admission to hit you. You almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. You wanted nothing more than to be friends with Vi as kids. But any advance was met with hesitation. She would constantly avoid any prolonged interaction with you. You tried not to take it to heart; she always had a lot on her plate. You assumed she didn’t think you were cool and you’ve learned to make peace with that. Even if Powder constantly assured you that Vi didn't actually hate you…

Oh.

“I just…I thought that…y'know.” 

“Y’know what?” Vi asks. 

You force a steady inhale. “I thought that you didn’t want to be friends with me. I grew up thinking you secretly hated me.” Suddenly the immediate chemistry between you two in the ring starts to make sense. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? When I saw you again I thought that you wouldn’t remember—”

Vi shuts up your rambling with a kiss. A dizzying, passionate kiss that steals what little air you have left in your lungs. You wrap your legs around Vi’s hips, bringing her closer. She lets you press your pelvises together, groaning in your mouth when you start to move. Her hips move in sync with yours, grinding against your heated core with fervor. 

Vi breaks the kiss but doesn’t stop the movement of her hips. “I thought about you every night since our first fight.” You let out sharp gasps when her hands return to your chest. “When I saw you in the stands, I wanted to drag you to the bathrooms and fuck you against the sink” Her hands finds your hips and presses you down to her pubic bone, hard enough to make you arch into her with a whine. “Let me have you. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Do it,” you say, your voice growing hoarse, “take me. I’ll be yours.”

There’s the unspoken meaning behind that declaration. A line that separates you two, once crossed it can have the power to destroy you from the inside out. You don’t seem to realize the weight of what you’re saying. Vi knows her mind is still conflicted on Caitlyn. She can’t bring herself to commit to hating her, but she can’t deny the toll it’s taken on her mind. Poisoning her. With you, the pain recedes, forgotten and pushed away. A distraction. A damn good one. 

When Vi kisses you again, she remembers all of the reasons why she was so drawn to you. You were more than just a pretty girl that she admired from afar. Her antithesis. Should she accept your invitation, wholeheartedly, you will have the power to be a weapon of her undoing. Vi should be scared of that. Not too long ago she poured her heart and bled for someone who ultimately discarded her. 

But then you moan out Vi’s name—breathy and desperate. A longing to rewrite your shared past between each kiss. A call to action. To finally answer one of Vi’s biggest what if? 

Vi runs past that separation between you two. Just for tonight, she promises weakly. 

In her haste to get your pants off your body, she snaps the button of your jeans and yanks the garment off along with your soaked panties. Her fingers run along your slit, teasing your entrance with the pad of her finger. 

“Please!”

Vi slides her middle finger down to the knuckle, curving ever so slightly. You jerk into her hand and Vi knows she’s found your weakest point. It’s like her fingers were made your pussy. She gives an experimental press of her finger, slowly building up a steady pace. Your tough demeanor chipping away bit by bit with each drag of her finger. 

You’re panting heavily. The squelching sound of your wet cunt fills the space between your bodies. Vi sets a moderate pace, enough to elicit moans, but not enough to satisfy. Vi must’ve seen the look on your face. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Her hand moves a touch faster, but you’re so wound up that any difference makes you cry out. “That’s it—that’s my girl.”

 A steady ache builds in your core at the name. You pull needlessly against the tight restraints, hoping that one more tug would be enough to free your hands. You want to touch her, to bring her closer to you bodies and fuck you properly. 

Vi laughs at your struggle. “Too much for you? Should I slow down?”

You shake your head vehemently. “More…give—fuck, give me more Vi. Need you…need more of you!”

The moment you feel her lips on yours, you also feel the addition of another finger deep in your cunt. The effect is immediate. Vi could barely kiss you with how loudly you’re moaning; jaw hung open, head thrown back, and your hips furiously meeting her fingers. She grabs your open jaw and forces you to look at her. Vi’s spit hits the back of your throat. When she sees you swallow—mouth closing and throat squeezing—she lets out a string of curses. 

A third finger makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your thighs seize up and your chest tightens. You’re so, so close. You need something more. Just one more push and you’ll fall off the edge. 

As if Vi could read your mind, her hand leaves your face, pressing below your belly button, right where her fingers meet the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. The pressure from her other hand combined with her feverish fucking was enough make you cum—hard. Your body twists in on itself, trying to ride out the pulses of pure feeling. Blinding pleasure rips through your body like lightning, hitting you fast and leaving behind a burn. Your cum rushes out of you like a dam, coating Vi’s fingers. 

“That’s it baby. You’re taking me so well. My good girl,” Vi coos, slowing down in her assault against your cunt. 

It takes a minute to come down from your euphoria. Your body slowly relaxes as Vi eases her fingers out of you. You can’t help but whine at the loss. 

In an executive act of mercy, Vi tugs at the belt restraint, freeing your sore wrists. 

You feel warm. A hot, pulsating nerve that’s been rubbed raw. Never in your life had sex ever been that good. You don’t even think you’re even capable of making yourself cum that hard. Vi collapses beside you, pulling you to her chest. You breathe in the scent of her; sweat, musk, and faint traces of leather. 

“We’ll shower tomorrow,” she mumbles into the side of your head. Exhausted. 

You feel the lull of sleep start to take you too. You bury your face into her neck, letting yourself trace patterns along the muscles of her back. Her strong arms wrap around your body, caging you with her warmth. Her soft, bruised, scarred skin enveloping you. You lay like this for a while, listening to the slow staccato of her heartbeat. Vi’s breath evens out and soon she’s asleep in your arms. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep as well. 

— — —

At some point during the night, Vi twists away from you. You only notice when her voice starts to pull you awake. 

“Didn’t…didn’t mean to,” she whispers. Her face is scrunched up, pained. 

You’re unsure what the protocol is for someone having a bad dream. You want to smooth your thumb over her pinched brows, kissing her frown until her imaginary worries go away. But if Vi wakes up, would she talk about it? You’re paralyzed by the decision, you opt to simply stay on your side of the bed. If it gets too much then you’ll wake her. In the meantime, you’ll try to ignore her sleep talking. You only have the weekend off after all. Soon, Parvata will be knocking on your door, demanding for your services. The thought alone makes you exhausted. 

The bed shifts again and this time Vi’s arms find you. This time, your back is pressed against her chest, her lips ghosting over the top of your shoulder. 

“Sorry…” she murmurs into your skin. A longing spelled with each syllable. “Love…I love you.”

You’re frozen. Her arms around your waist feel like dead weight. A sour feeling is felt in your gut; the feeling that whatever comes out of her mouth will haunt you. 

Vi’s mouth moves again. Sounds pressed against your skin, trying to be let out. Then, you hear it. As clear as Piltover’s skies.

“Caitlyn.”

You felt your heart stop in its tracks. It’s the clearest word that came out of her ramblings. With it comes a shock of clarity that makes the room feel ten degrees colder. Caitlyn…why does that name seem familiar?

Kiramman. Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi’s supposed enforcer buddy before she would up in the pits. Responsible for the removal of one of the chem-barons and their followers. Not much is known about what exactly went wrong to have Vi end up back in Zaun. But one thing was clear. 

Vi was using you. To distract herself from the Kiramman heir. It wasn’t a desire to reconnect with you that led her to follow you. Seems as though sex was a better option than shitty liquor. You feel Vi nuzzle against your skin and you fight the urge to recoil from her touch. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim to her. She wasn’t your girlfriend. You didn’t establish any boundaries or attach any labels to what you were. She never accepted your invitation after all—”I’ll be yours”. 

You slowly maneuver your body until you’re facing Vi. She’s still sound asleep. The hard crease in the middle of her brows is gone, looking  more relaxed than you’ve seen her. You shouldn’t feel jealous. Vi isn’t your partner. And now you have confirmation that she most likely never will be. 

So you cling onto her. Pretending that just for tonight, she’s actually yours. 

[sungchanphile]

kiss, cry, fall in love ☆ jung sungchan

୨♡୧ WORD COUNT: 19.3k ୨♡୧ PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader ୨♡୧ TAGS & WARNINGS: figure skating!au, skater!sungchan, skater!yn, friends that kiss to lovers!au, secret/hidden relationship, fluff, angst, mentions of anxiety and skating-related minor injuries, lots of pining, lots of internal monologuing, lots of making out descriptions but no smut!, non linear narrative ୨♡୧ SYNOPSIS: jung sungchan is completely, utterly and hopelessly whipped for the struggling skater who keeps him at an arm's length, yet loves the feeling of his mouth on hers in every corner of the globe.

୨♡୧ NOTES: im sorry this is SOOOO long and its just y/n and sungchan being so cute and head over heels for each other. it's kinda a self-indulgent fic and i didn't really explain the figure skating terms, but i think you can make do without knowing what they mean (ask me anything if you wanna know tho!) pls enjoy this cute piece :) anyway, miss u seunghan!!!

⋆｡°✩

SKATE AMERICA, OCTOBER 2023

Your first love will always be figure skating. There was something about the way the cool air kissed and then smothered your face as you stepped onto the ice, and something about the way your sharp blades screeched as it cut through the top layer. There was something about the way the lights around you reflected on the glossy surface and the way you felt like you were most yourself while cutting through the air.

Your first love is figure skating, and everything to do with it- from the 5am call for training, to the sleepy drives all around the country and the world to get to your competitions, to the cheering, the gasps and the booing from the audience, to the gifted plushies making their home on your couch in your living room, to the stumbles and the landings, to the kiss and cry and most of all, to the skating.

Figure skating was also your first heartbreak- one that you were still trying to get over.

The arena you were competing in today was a familiar one, since you'd completed competitions in both the junior and senior circuit here a couple of times. Over the years, your nerves had truly eased up a little - never totally, of course, but you were always more excited than nervous no matter how well you thought you'd fare.

Still, the familiarity of the layout and the size and the ice was no help towards the pit growing in your stomach that you hadn't felt in competition in years. No matter- you woke up with that dread every single day for months now.

The stands had fallen into a hitched silence when they announced your name over the speaker. You had opened the barrier to the rink with a deep breath and one last forlorn look to your coach, who diverted her eyes quickly from you after a tense smile. It was weird; this was one of the loudest crowds in the grand prix circuit, but for you- last to skate in the short- you could hear a pin drop.

This time last year, you were on top of the world going into your first assignment of the season. You were fresh off the back of an amazing run at your very first Winter Olympics, helping your team secure gold medals in the team event and yourself a silver for your own effort. You had been skating in ice shows left and right in the midst of creating new routines for the new season, and you were on a high in life.

The season had passed well- you won gold, and then silver at your grand prix assignments, cruised through the grand prix final and then swept your discipline at nationals. You medalled for the 4th year running at 4 Continents and then all that was left was worlds.

Easy right? All you had left at the end of the best season of your career was the World Championships against all the skaters you had been consistently beating for years.

Anyway, back to the present.

You continued inhaling and exhaling consciously and intentionally for a while and it felt like forever before the first notes of your music began to boom into the arena and you could make your first move.

All eyes were on you.

It took you a split second to snap yourself from the sudden stage fright that had come over you. For a second there, you had thought that your feet refused to move from their starting position and had anchored themselves to the ice, but thankfully your brain and muscles had connected after a brief pause to send you on your first lap around the rink.

You had a few seconds to compose yourself and perform some intricate arm waving before your very first, and most difficult jump- one you had been rigorously training over and over and over again since the end of the last season when it had sabotaged your Worlds free skate.

When on the ice, the faces of the audience blurred into one continuous mass. You were thankful for this, otherwise you would be staring at the anxious expressions of hundreds of people that would bury and make home in your already fluttering stomach.

You sighed heavily to yourself before beginning the lead up to your jump. You told yourself that even if you didn't make it, it wouldn't affect how the rest of the routine went- you wouldn't let it.

You made the dreaded turn to start skating backwards and counted to 3 in your head before you turned again to take off forward, throwing your arms around yourself and launching your body in the air. You wish you could say that you knew what happened afterwards, but all you know is that you landed on the correct feet and the arena burst into cheers. You prayed that you landed your triple axel, but who knows at this point.

You let out a sigh of relief and continued with the rest of your programme that was ingrained in your mind. You were pretty much running on autopilot, which was not always what you preferred to do in competition. You wanted to be more in control, but honestly whatever got you through this skate would be okay.

The rest of the skate flew by and with each jump and element, you began to loosen up and the cloud in your mind began to dissolve. By the end of it, you could clearly make out the relief and pride splattered on your coach's face.

She gave you a tight squeeze when you opened the gate once more and cooed into your ear how proud she was of you, not that a blip in your routine would make her any less proud.

"Let's go to the kiss and cry and then i'll treat you to whatever you want," your coach Lina squeezed your hand with a reverent smile.

"Well now it sounds like you're bribing me to skate well," you grabbed a Keroppi plushie from one of the attendants that had cleaned up after you, giving her an appreciative smile.

"I always believe that you'll do well," she uttered back.

She sat you down in the middle of the bench and you gave smiles and waves to the camera pointing at you. You finally got to review yourself on the screens showing the live feedback of the broadcast and you were elated to find out that you had in fact landed your triple axel perfectly, instead of just a double.

The score blared out your season's best, just cause it was the start of the season, and it was on par with your scores from the start of last season, so you quickly celebrated and made your way to the media area and the changing rooms.

"Y/N!" you were greeted with a familiar squealing voice and were quickly enveloped in a tight hug.

"Sho! I didn't know you were coming!" you were so happy to see one of your friends around.

Shotaro pulled away and you noticed a towering figure beside him, holding a small bouquet of your favourite flowers, tulips.

"Sungchan," you smiled softly, "Hi."

His eyes were as sparkly as you always found them to be, his lips challenging the pinks on the flowers he was clutching.

He gave you a shy smile back and offered out the bouquet, "Taro and I got this for you. Congratulations on your short."

You wrapped your fingers around the stems and admired the vibrant orange and pink, "I bet you guys were holding your breaths. I know I was."

"It was incredible, as always," Sungchan assured you.

"Every skater goes through this, Y/N. We always know you're giving your best and we always believed you would recover," Shotaro hummed sincerely, "Anyway, we came because a lot of the gang is skating tomorrow. We begged our coach to let us come to this assignment and surprise you and the boys."

Shotaro was the first friend you made outside of your skating club in the junior ranks. He had approached you years and years ago, telling you he admired your skating and offered to be skating friends. In a career that was sending you everywhere around the world with never any stability, it was good to be friendly with people that could end up in the same assignments with you.

He had introduced you to the boys he had befriended himself and that was something you were so grateful for after you stopped finding yourself lonely in the cities you were drawn to.

You recalled seeing Anton and Wonbin drawn to this assignment too, but you hadn't had the chance to see them in their practice or otherwise.

"I'm gonna talk to a few reporters cause I can see my coach giving me some death stares to do them right now, but wait for me and we can get dinner? Or are you seeing the boys?"

"Toni and Bin have practice just after this and the others are watching, so we can get dinner just us and then we're hanging out in Anton's hotel suite after if you wanna join," Shotaro explained, "But yeah, go!"

You gave them both smiles and turned around to make a beeline for the press area, trying to ignore the booming feeling in your heart seeing the tall brunette for the first time in months.

⋆｡°✩

WORLDS, MARCH 2023

"Last to skate, Y/N Y/L/N."

You set off into a lap around the rink before settling in your starting position. You were well poised to walk away with the gold medal this competition, after ending up second in the short program and the competitor above you falling out of her combination in her free skate just before you. It wasn't that you prayed for the downfall of others, it was just that you had to take advantage of all you could.

Still, you were incredibly nervous. Your warm up and public training yesterday hadn't gone so smoothly considering you under-rotated your triple axel and landed your other quads shakily. You didn't know what was wrong with you- you were rounding off the best season of your career so far and this was just one last programme before you could have time to relax for a bit.

Lina gave you an encouraging thumbs up from the side and mouthed a good luck. You gave her a nod and waited for the music to start.

You had polished this routine to perfection, having performed it for two seasons already, so you were able to hit every piece of choreography perfectly as you led up to your first jump.

It was weird, the minute you began the lead up to the axel, this unfamiliar feeling began to nestle itself into your stomach and your mind and you didn't even have a split second to shake it away before you shot up in the air.

Then something snapped.

It felt like time had stopped and you were frozen mid spin in the air. The world had gone quiet and you could suddenly see the faces of everyone contort into worried gasps in slow motion. You didn't know how many times you spun in the air. It should have been 3 and half, but maybe it was 5 and maybe it was 2. It seemed like the laws of physics were non-existent as time suddenly snapped back into motion and you were on the floor the next moment.

You had no idea what was happening. Your mind had completely fogged up as you pulled yourself up. In the replays of this moment, you'd later see your coach in the background motioning for you to stop your skate and retreat, but you had bit your lip to stop the tears and continued your skate.

It was as if you blacked out for the rest of your free skate. All you remember was spinning around and around and trying your hardest to get back on track, but that was incredibly difficult when you had popped out of your quad lutz and fell again on your triple-triple. The audience was stunned, watching in silence and shock as the most likely contender of the competition was skating the worst in her entire career. Even in your junior years, you had never placed lower than 5th and you had certainly never popped out of your jumps before. You could probably count on one hand how many times you had fallen in competition, and this skate was obliterating that statistic.

You received your score in the kiss and cry stoic and unmoving. As soon as the cameras switched, you bolted to the halls of the arena while your coach shouted behind you. It took less than a minute for you to lose her as you navigated the maze of the 'backstage'. You were running on your skates (protected, of course) and you were running on some kind of adrenaline that was currently preventing you from breaking down. It would run out soon enough.

You had finally run into a corridor where the lights weren't activated until you stepped into them, so you had felt safe enough to hide in one of the rooms in the hopes they were empty.

The one you had barged into was a small dressing room, but evidently it was occupied by some people judging by the skate guards on the coffee table and the Team Korea jackets thrown on the couches. You didn't care as long as it was empty.

The silence dawned on you after the ringing that had been plaguing your ears since you came off the ice. It was then that all your emotions erupted and you fell to the floor in body-shaking sobs.

You had no idea what had happened at all. Nothing in the world could explain it and you had never felt like this skating ever again. In fact, skating always made you happy- it was the one thing in life that felt like it was for you. You never belonged anywhere else doing anything else. Skating was it.

So why did that happen?

You had heard of a phenomenon in gymnastics- the twisties. It was the sensation of losing yourself in the air, with your mind and body disconnecting in the middle of an element. It was one of the scariest things that could happen to a gymnast, and maybe that was what you had experienced.

Your tears were falling like a rainstorm on your sequinned dress and you felt the creeping of a throbbing and thunderous headache as you cried into the couch.

That was probably why you couldn't hear the door opening and a tall, young figure skater strolling in with a hum before he stopped in his tracks, noticing you on the floor, "Uh-"

Your eyes snapped to the leaning figure and you couldn't even make out who it was through the tears.

"Y/N?"

That was a voice you knew anywhere.

"Sungchan."

⋆｡°✩

SKATE AMERICA, OCTOBER 2023

"Where's your next assignment again?" Shotaro mumbled out through his mouth full of noodles. The three of you were in a hole-in-the-wall ramen restaurant downtown in the city, somewhere that one of your club-mates had recommended.

You grimaced, urging him to finish his bite first before speaking, "France. So soon."

"That's my first event," Sungchan hummed, sitting diagonally across from you.

Sungchan was one of the quieter ones around you. Of course, that possibly didn't reflect his usual personality around his friends while you were absent, but you'd noticed that in a large group, he tended to flitter on the outskirts and just listen.

"I'm off to Canada in a few days and then to Japan," Shotaro added, "I keep telling the federation to invite some lower ranked skaters to give them Grand Prix experience, but they keep including me in their domestic picks."

"Oh what a shame! You're popular in Japan!" you rolled your eyes playfully and chuckled at him, Sungchan joining along with you.

"Yeah, whatever. I want to experience other assignments. You know i've never been seeded to France?" Shotaro grumbled, "But yeah, I guess a home crowd is always the best crowd."

"The only time I experience a home crowd like that is for nationals, where all my competitors are also the same nationality. Then no one has a home crowd advantage," you mused, "I hope I make it to the final though- I haven't been to Italy in a long time!"

"I believe in you," Sungchan cheered timidly. You returned his musings with a gummy grin.

"Thanks, Sung. After Worlds I stopped believing that phrase, to be honest, but I think I'm getting better at internalising it."

"Ah yeah," Shotaro hissed, "A lot of the guys haven't seen you since. I don't know how much you want to talk about it; do you want me to tell them not to ask?"

"Thanks for being considerate, Taro," you said, "But I think i'm okay to talk about it if they ask. I think I'm coming out the other side of that dark tunnel now. And my therapist says talking about it is the best way to get over it. I guess she's paid to talk about it with me so maybe she just says that so our appointments aren't filled with silence."

Your best friend gave you an understanding nod and continued digging into his bowl of ramen. A comfortable silence fell between the three of you as you finally stopped chattering and were able to divulge into your food. You made small talk about the bowl in front of you- how good the broth was, how chewy the noodles were and how tender the meat was.

After the bill was split three ways, you huddled into the back of a taxi that was taking you to the hotel that most skaters had booked for the competition. You were squished in the middle, thanks to your shorter stature compared to Sungchan and Shotaro, but in an effort to not make Sungchan uncomfortable, you tried to scoot closer to Shotaro. It was pretty much a futile attempt considering the way Sungchan's broad shoulders sprawled over his seat and yours.

Still, you sneaked some glances over to the quiet Korean, who was peering out of the window and watching the busy streets of downtown Texas. His side profile was one you admired, with his enviable nose bridge and plump lips that were pulled into a somewhat pout as his eyes followed the people and the lights outside.

"Hm?" Shotaro poked you with a whisper, "You okay?" You didn't even know that you had dissociated and were staring expressionlessly out through the windshield.

With this, Sungchan snapped his head to you, eyebrows pulled in concern as you dismissed them with a wave, "Yeah i'm fine guys. Just thinking about stuff."

"Well don't plague that pretty head of yours. We're here tonight to help you take your mind off things," Shotaro was well aware that you still had some anxiety about skating and competing, and he mainly dragged Sungchan along to Texas just to help you through your first competition since your disastrous World's run.

Sungchan hummed along, agreeing with Shotaro and soon enough, the taxi was pulling up in front of your hotel. You rolled your eyes when Shotaro pressed on the penthouse button in the elevator; Anton often booked the most expensive suite at his competition hotels, claiming his environment had to be perfect or else it would affect his performance. Whatever, all the more space for all of you to hang out.

Sungchan produced a keycard from his pocket and you could already hear some commotion from the other side of the door. As soon as you heard the beep and the click of the lock opening, you felt a stampede of footsteps running towards the door.

"Noona!" Anton beat everyone to wrapping his arms around you, "Haven't seen you in forever."

"Yeah, I know. I've been a recluse these past few months. I missed you guys though," you giggled into his neck.

"Congratulations on the short," Eunseok hummed as he hugged you.

You received the same sentiments from the rest of the boys before you were being dragged over to the plush L-shaped sofa that they had begun to make their home at, judging from the blankets and jackets and snacks.

"Are you guys excited for tomorrow?" you asked Anton and Wonbin, recalling that the men's short program commenced in the afternoon.

"Excited, nervous; it's all the same emotions," Wonbin shrugged, "I kind of hurt my knee in practice today so hopefully it's okay tomorrow."

You winced at the prospect of an injury. It was so difficult to gauge how much certain bumps and grazes could actually affect you until you're on the ice and giving your all.

"Don't hurt yourself, okay?" Seunghan nudged his friend as he nuzzled into the corner with his blanket.

"Yeah, trust me, you don't want to make it worse," Sohee groaned. He had been dealing with a knee injury for a better part of 6 months and he was praying it would miraculously heal itself before his first assignment in one month.

You plopped down in the middle of the couch and to your surprise, Sungchan took his seat next to you. You tried not to make a big deal out of it, meeting his eyes for a brief second before turning your attention to Eunseok and Shotaro rock-paper-scissoring over who was choosing the movie. Shotaro won and the rest of you groaned, knowing that he was about to subject you to Studio Ghibli film again. For as long as you knew the boys, which was a long time, but you hardly saw them, you had cycled through the whole roster maybe 3 times over.

"How about we don't watch a movie and just chat shit instead?" Seunghan murmured sleepily from his position, "Like to start with, how's everyone's love life going? Any updates?"

You threw a pillow at him, knowing the question was directed at you. The 7 boys were attached to the hip in Korea, all training at the same rink (how the coaches managed that, you don't quite know) for the majority of the off-season. They knew everything about each other.

"Yeah, Y/N, how's your love life?" Sohee teased with a shit-eating grin.

"Non-existent, as always," you rolled your eyes, "I literally don't interact with any guys outside of the 7 of you in this room and that's even a stretch. The only man in my life is my cat at home."

"Why don't you date one of us then?"

Sungchan erupted into a coughing fit and you all looked at him strangely before deciding to address Wonbin's crazy suggestion.

"Sorry, swallowed my spit wrong," Sungchan avoided your eyes and chugged the water bottle he had snatched from the coffee table. He was thankful that everyone moved on from him.

"Wonbin, what the fuck?" you turned back to the long-haired skater, "Are you in love with me or something?"

"Psh, you wish," he dismissed, "But i'm just saying it makes sense. We've been friends for years, you trust us, you can't be bothered to go look for a man and i'm sure the thought of dating even just one of us won't kill you."

"Shut up, Bin. Did you hit your head or something cause that's some crazy allegations there," you defended, "You can't skate with a concussion, you know that right?"

"I'm legit fine," he rolled his eyes and began annoying Eunseok who was sat cross-legged next to him.

Your relationship with these boys was somewhat complicated, you would say. They were your closest friends in the skating world, but you also barely saw them and befriended each one on different levels.

You knew Shotaro better than everyone and you considered him a brother to you, meanwhile Sohee and Anton felt like your children since they adored you so much. Seunghan and Wonbin were your drinking buddies in whatever corner of the world you could find them in and you found yourself museum-hopping with Eunseok more often than not.

And then Sungchan. Ah, Sungchan.

Sungchan was just a consistent and quiet presence in your life. You didn't know much about him but he always appeared in the most random times. You weren't sure if Sungchan just treated you nicely because he felt obligated to because of your friendship with the others, or if his considerate but small gestures were out of his own friendly affection for you. There were phases that you convinced yourself that Sungchan disliked you and merely tolerated you for the sake of the others, but he would always prove you wrong otherwise in ways that you like to cast out of your memories.

Sungchan remained pretty quiet for the rest of the night, only chirping in when he felt like he could add something to the conversation, but the warmth radiating from his body next to yours gave you constant comfort. You would say the two of you were friends, but it was hard to quantify and label what you and Sungchan were exactly.

Eventually, Anton and Wonbin began dropping hints that they were tired and needed to rest up for their skate tomorrow, so you began to usher the boys into their rooms. The two competitors were sharing the three-bedroom penthouse, but with the surprise from the boys, they were having to squeeze 7 to the suite. Of course, Anton and Wonbin needed their beauty sleep, so the rest of them were cramming themselves into the 2 king beds in the third bedroom.

The two skaters bid their goodbyes first and you gave them good luck hugs, promising to watch the event tomorrow if you were able. This left the other boys and you standing around the coffee table looking at each other with no purpose.

"Uh, Shotaro and I are going to the gym," Wonbin began.

Sungchan perked up at this, "Oh! Let me co-"

"No!" Shotaro cried out suddenly, "You're not invited! Sorry! C'mon Bin let's go get changed," he dragged the smiling boy towards the spare room in the suite.

You looked around in confusion, noticing Eunseok, Sohee and Sunghan looking mischievous, "We're going to get chicken," Sohee declared, "I know you don't eat fried chicken so close to competition, right Channie? So why don't you walk our dear Y/N to her room? It's dangerous out there, you know?"

Their intention must have flown over your head as you furrowed your eyebrows together and shook your head, "It's okay Sungchan, I can go by myself! It's only a few floors down and you should rest. Must have been a long flight."

He mirrored your action as he reluctantly tugged on your arm, "It's okay; I'll walk you. I wanna get something from the vending machine anyway."

You gave him an unsure look, but relented when he returned a confident smile. You said good night to the boys who were slipping on their jackets and followed Sungchan out of the suite.

"I'm sorry they made you do that and they all just left you," you scurried after him. His long legs were definitely no match for you, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything so you can just go down to the machine!"

"Hey," he interrupted your ramblings as the two of you entered the elevator, "Don't worry. We're friends, right? And I would hate if something happened to you on the way down. You have a pretty crazy fanbase, you know?"

You grimaced, thinking back to the time that a couple of fans had stalked you around Toronto when you had competed there once. Sungchan was right, in fairness- you never know what information people have access to.

"Thanks, Channie," you reluctantly called him by his affectionate nickname that the others loved to coo at him, "I also think they decided that you're the most eligible bachelor for me, considering they all dipped and left you behind."

"Ah, they're crazy," he rolled his eyes, "Ignore them, please!"

The two of you had reached your floor and you were glad that your room was close to the elevator. You took out your keycard from your jacket pocket and opened the door. You hadn't had time to unpack before going to training the day before, so all that was in your room was your free skate dress hanging in the exposed wardrobe to let the wrinkles drop out, and your closed suitcases in the corner of the room.

"Well, uh," Sungchan scratched the back of his neck, "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Sungchan?"

He looked up at you with glimmering doe eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to come in?" you moved aside to give him the choice to.

He chuckled in amusement, "Yeah, I do."

He stepped foot into the room and kicked off his shoes while you peeled off your jacket. As soon as the lock clicked shut behind him, Sungchan snaked his toned arms around your waist and attached his lips to yours.

Okay, confession time.

Your relationship with Sungchan was incredibly, incredulously complicated.

It all started 3 and a half years ago when your high school boyfriend broke up with you over the phone between your short and free skate in Canada. Sungchan had been the only other one of the group who was competing at the same assignment and although the two of you weren't close, the boys sent him to your hotel room with chocolate, tissues and a picture of him to rip up or stab with a pen.

You had embarrassingly cried your eyes out all over his training shirt and then pathetically asked him to distract you from the heartbreak by making out with you. You couldn't say that 18-year-old you was very smart or emotionally available. Well, to be honest, you still weren't particularly any better.

Anyway, the next day, the two of you decided to never talk about it ever again, swearing to never tell the boys anything and decided to continue with your semi-awkward acquaintanceship.

That was until the two of you stumbled into each other months and months later at a fellow skater's birthday party halfway across the world and ended up making out again in a coat closet for a good amount of time.

And then it carried on like that- finding places to make out around the globe, swearing not to say anything to anyone and then not talking about it ever again.

"We should really stop this, you know," you panted against his lips.

"You say that every time," Sungchan muttered, slotting his tongue between your lips and snaking his smooth hands to your throat, "But totally, yeah. We should stop this."

"Okay, this can be our last," you decided, as he led you over to your bed and pushed you gently down.

To be honest, you would say that you didn't know much about Sungchan despite making out with him 2 or 3 times a year because it was a correct statement. The two of you never really did anything else other than blow off some steam by making out. You never shared meals together or cuddled in bed indulging in pillow talk. It was always a transactional thing. It was weird in your head- all that the two of you did, but Sungchan was too good of a kisser for you to care about all the details of it.

"Better make it worthwhile, huh?" he peppered kisses down your neck until he reached the spot that had you putty in his hands. Sungchan knew better than to leave marks that your friends would definitely not let go of, so he just bit and sucked for a short time before connecting his lips back to yours. Your shirt had creeped up your torso, exposing a sliver of smooth skin that Sungchan attached his large hands to while he laid waste to all your emotions by kissing the breath out of you.

You didn't know how long had passed until Sungchan pulled away with blown out pupils and a pant. A small smile tugged onto the corner of his lips, which you couldn't help but poke, "What's with you?"

He giggled, "Nothing, nothing. You're beautiful, you know?"

A blush rose up to your cheeks and you broke your eye contact with him. It was weird- Sungchan seemed so confident when he was alone with you, but the moment he stepped out of the confines of your little situationship, he returned to being quiet and mysterious. You wished that you could get to know who the real Sungchan was.

"Shut up," you dismissed, cupping his chin and bringing his face down to yours. Sungchan stopped himself until your noses touched and he nudged his against yours sweetly before kissing you once again.

Kissing Sungchan felt like the world stopped spinning and it was only the two of you. All your worries disappeared and every stress left your body when Jung Sungchan's was on yours. He had this amazing power of making the world tilt on its axis the minute his lips touched yours and frankly, you were addicted to the feeling of him.

Your heart was completely and hopelessly beating out of your chest with the way his lips melded perfectly between yours and it was times like this, alone in a hotel room in a city you'll only ever see the ice rink of, that you forgot what your relationship with Jung Sungchan was.

"You should go," you murmured, halting his actions, "I have training early tomorrow."

"Yeah," he untangled his limbs from you and gave you a limp smile, "It's good seeing you again, Y/N. We haven't spoken in a while."

You internally cringe, thinking back to all those nights you sometimes contemplate texting him, only to realise you really don't text or speak at all outside of the groupchat. You think the last time you spoke was when you greeted him a happy birthday over text, and even that was a very fleeting exchange.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Channie," you felt the emptiness rise up again in your stomach as you walked him to the door. You were back to acting like nothing had ever happened between the two of you and as if walking you to your room was the only thing he did, "Thanks."

He bid you a soft goodnight and disappeared around the corner. Your hands rose up to your swollen lips and you sighed.

What were you actually doing?

⋆｡°✩

JUNIOR GRAND PRIX FINAL, DECEMBER 2017

"Urgh," you kicked the vending machine in anger as it withheld your drink in its clutches. It was a futile attempt as it sat on the edge of the shelf, taunting you. You gave it a few more hopeless kicks and groaned in frustration.

First, your triple salchow in your program was a total mess and definitely under-rotated, and now the vending machine wouldn't even disperse the drink that you paid the last of your Japanese coins for.

"Do you want some help?" a soft voice called out to you. You turned around and came face to face with who you presumed to be a skater judging from the pass hanging around his neck. He looked kind of familiar, you thought, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You tried to give your politest, "Sure," but he could probably tell you were annoyed.

He enveloped the vending machine between his two sprawling arms and gave it an abrupt shake. You sighed in relief as you finally saw the melon milk can tip over and fall into the hole.

"Ah, thank you," you crouched down to take the drink, "I'd buy you a drink for that but I just used the last of my money."

He gave you a dashing smile, finally meeting your eyes.

Ah, wow.

He was certainly an attractive boy, with light brown fluffy hair and eyes so big that it made you swoon. This guy was almost two heads taller than you, but he was still built from the soft definition of muscles you could see from his short-sleeve top.

"It's okay," he assured you, flashing you the coins in his palm, "I was gonna buy myself a drink. I'm Sungchan, by the way. I'm a skater from Korea and I'm competing tomorrow."

It clicked in your head suddenly, "Jung Sungchan? Shotaro's friend? I'm Y/N!"

He smiled sheepishly, "I know who you are, of course," he motioned to your ensemble consisting of your competition dress, "You literally just came off the ice, you know that? Plus, Taro talks about you all the time."

You looked down at your costume and your feet that were still in your covered skates, "Oh, yeah. It wasn't my best out there. Anyway, sorry for not recognising you- Shotaro also talks about you guys a lot but he never shows me pictures. It's my fault though- I know I've probably been at numerous assignments with you guys since I've known Sho."

Sungchan popped open his can of strawberry milk, "You're quite harsh on yourself, you know that? Shotaro always says that about you. It was an amazing skate and you swept your competitors. Even if you made a small mistake, it doesn't take away from the rest of your incredible elements. You should always be proud, because those who watch you always are."

You tilted your head at him, a near-stranger offering you some comforting words, "Ah, I've never thought about it like that. I guess I'm harsh on myself because I want to do this for as long as possible. My dream is to win an Olympic gold."

"You're probably the closest out of all of us. Your skate in Norway was out of this world!" he chided. It was true- you already had a Winter Youth Olympics medal, but that was never really a predictor for the real thing- wait, he was at Norway Youth Olympics. Maybe that's why he looks so familiar to you?

You fought the smile arising, "Well, skating's an unpredictable sport; you never know what can happen. You just have to hope for the best," Sungchan opened his mouth to reply, but you could see your coach appearing around the corner, "Ah! I have to go- my coach is coming! It was nice meeting you, Jung Sungchan. I'll definitely see you around and good luck for tomorrow!"

"You too, Y/N," Sungchan watched as you bounded over to your coach, happy to see that you were in a better mood than when he first encountered you. That feeling did something funny to his stomach.

⋆｡°✩

GRAND PRIX DE FRANCE, NOVEMBER 2023

You're on top of the world, and then suddenly you're not. That's the feeling you get when your blade collides with the ice so abruptly, shooting the pain all through your body as you fall on your triple axel again.

You think that you don't even breathe for the rest of the free skate, just running on pure adrenaline pumping through your muscles to get you out of this situation. Fight or flight was really taking over, but you knew that you could never step foot on the ice again if you decide to leave halfway through.

Your coach fussed over you as soon as you stumble out, shell shocked and delirious, but not yet crying.

"Y/N?" she snapped her fingers in front of your face, "Are you okay? Go to the medical team and get that checked out now," she ordered you.

They're satisfied that you didn't sustain any injuries with that fall; you think your mind took the worst of it. You're hunched over on the examination room bed, blanket around your shoulder and shivering.

All you need right now is someone to hold your hand and tell you everything's okay.

"Sungchan?" you whispered into the phone when the call finally connects.

"Y/N! What happened? Where are you?" he sounds breathless, as if he's been running around.

"I'm in the medical room," you looked around the empty room, thankful they gave you the privacy you needed to process, "Can you find me?"

"I'm coming, don't worry," he assured you, "For now, just breathe okay? Just make sure you're breathing. In and out, okay love?"

Love.

Sungchan doesn't bat an eye on this or even try to correct himself. It's something that slips out so naturally to him and that gets your mind going at another 100 miles per hour. Well, at least you weren't thinking about your skate.

It took Sungchan a few more minutes to find the medical room, having asked two staff members along the way. The whole time, he stays on the phone, making sure you're still okay.

He knocked twice and entered the room, finding you in the corner, just staring at his contact information on your phone. Sungchan pressed the hang up button and sighs in relief as he finds you.

Reluctantly, he approached the stiff bed and wrapped his arms around you. The second he does, you melt into his embrace and he's more confident to squeeze you tighter.

Your body begins to shake with sobs and Sungchan feels his shirt become damp, so he places his hand on your head and gave reassuring pats.

"Ah, let it out, Y/N. I know how hard that must have been for you," Sungchan whispered, hoping and praying he was saying the right things.

Falling was nothing new to Sungchan. He fell every day, even. But the immediate feeling you get after it never gets any better. You just have to get better at dealing with the aftermath. He knows you've fallen countless of times before, but after a nearly-traumatic competition all those months ago, he understands why nearly 8 years into your career, you're starting to deal with these new anxieties.

"You're okay, Y/N, you're safe," your sobs let up after a while, but he can still tell that you're still crying, "This is nothing. You're still in the Grand Prix Final and you're still the most amazing skater in the whole world."

You pull away and gave a half-hearted smile through the tears, "Just cause I'm having a breakdown doesn't mean you need to lie to me."

Sungchan is in awe at how beautiful you still look despite the tears rapidly falling. He tucks the hair in your face out of the way and tried to wipe some of the tears, "I'm not a liar. You're my favourite skater and you always have been, ever since juniors."

"Have a crush, do you?" you teased, sniffling and trying to finish up the release of emotions.

"And how bad would it be if I did?"

You tried to ignore him, you really did. You tried to ignore the way his words sent impulses straight to your heart and brain and made you dizzy.

Look, you weren't stupid. You were nearly friends with benefits with this guy and you knew how that usually ended- lovers or enemies. You had been suppressing any emotion all this time to postpone finding out which one you and Sungchan were gonna end up as.

"Y/N?" he called, pulling you out of the trance.

"Hm?"

"Come to Paris with me for a couple of days," Sungchan hums, taking your fingers and playing with them, "I'll help you take your mind off it all."

"Just you and me?"

You think about Eunseok and Seunghan, and how they had expressed their desire to come to Paris after the competition.

"Just you and me," he stated, "Let's just- keep it between us. A healing trip."

"What are you healing from?"

He brings his face close and nudged his nose against yours, "Seeing you cry breaks my heart every time, but I'm glad you come to me."

⋆｡°✩

Sungchan holds your hand the whole 3 hour drive to Paris the next day. While you were feeling better, and watching him skate to a gold also made you happy, you were still fighting your inner thoughts. You look over to your companion, his head resting on his shoulder with his pink lips slightly open as he let out deep breaths. He looked so pretty sleeping, you thought to yourself.

You felt like you were in a romantic film, to be honest. Outside the windows were the sprawling countryside of France between Angers and Paris, and his hand was intertwined with yours and you were sharing an earbud each from his wired headphones connecting to his phone.

You wish you could fall into a slumber like he had, so you wouldn't have to be faced with these thoughts about the two of you. Since your arrangement with Sungchan started, you refused to think about the possibility of anything more between the two of you, convincing yourself that friends was the only title you were destined to bear. When you think about it, you're actually in a much dire situation than you wish to be in. You know you'll have to confront these feelings soon enough the more that Jung Sungchan entwines his life with yours.

Then again, Jung Sungchan has always been in your life.

The minute after you met him at the Junior Grand Prix final when you were 16, you suddenly began to notice him all over the world. He was at nearly every grand prix assignment, every challenger series you participated in and every corner of the world. He was always just there and you never really realised that until recently.

It started off as shy smiles between the two of you and 'good luck's' in passing, and then happy waves and asking each other how you were. When you finally turned 18 and had more freedom at the competitions, you were able to explore town with the boys, Sungchan always in tow since the world loved to put the two of you together.

You didn't know everything about Sungchan but he had already seen you at your worst and at your best. That has to mean something, right?

"We're almost at Mr. Jung's requested destination," your driver cleared his throat, breaking you out of your spell.

You thank him quietly and face the task of waking up what you believe to be the most beautiful sleeping boy in the world.

You reached up to his eyes, pushing the hair out of the way and you cup his warm face with your cold hands. His eyelashes began to flutter, until he woke up at your touch.

"We're almost here," you told him.

He squeezes his eyes shut adorably as he stretches out his body, never breaking his hold on you, "Ah, I fell asleep? Sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"It's okay," you shrugged, "You must be pretty tired considering you had the whole competition and you were last to skate at the gala. You did so well yesterday."

You thought back to how you also met up for drinks with the other boys that night and didn't get into your hotel until 2 in the morning.

"I wanted to spend some time with you, though," he pouted and your head spins at the thought of wanting to kiss the pout off his face.

"We have a few days," you reminded him, "Speaking of, where are we going?"

Sungchan pulls his lips into a sheepish grin, "You might hate it but give me a chance, okay?"

He's right in saying that you absolutely hate the thought of it the second you stepped foot in the building. You pleaded him to do literally anything else in the world as he paid for the tickets and led you past the barriers. You're slow in putting on the equipment and grumbling as you meet him by the gate.

The ice rink is busy, bustling with teenagers, families, couples and everyone alike.

"Give me a chance," Sungchan echoed as he extended his large hands towards you. You nearly laugh at this gesture, considering the two of you were definitely the most experienced skaters on the rink and the possibility of falling was nearly 0, but then you look up at the other couples and groups on the rink, all holding hands as they tried to keep themselves upright.

"We've just spent the last week going around and around the ice until we were going crazy," you began as the two of you set off on a leisurely lap, "And your very best idea for our so called 'healing' trip was to do the same thing?"

He looked at you pleadingly, "Look, I know I can't change the way that skating makes you feel instantly in one day. But I want to get to know you a bit more- find out why you love skating in the first place and hope that I can help you in your journey in falling back in love with skating."

You're struck silent by his explanation, mouth agape. Sungchan smiled softly, tugging on your hand and doing some more intricate steps as you followed. Looking around, there were people of all abilities- adults stumbling and adults gliding, teenagers falling and teenagers spinning, and little children across the whole spectrum of abilities. You awed at the little girl who fell, but got back up immediately, cheeks flushed but expression determined.

There was some couples that you could make out- one partner would be hobbling, holding onto the railing, and then every so often, their more gifted partner would catch up to them in their lap and make conversation, usually grinning and laughing together despite the disparity in ability. You could see the couples holding hands, reassuring each other that they were supported and they weren't gonna let the other fall.

"I was already 9 when my parents first put me on the ice. I fell so many times that my legs were bruised and bleeding up and down both sides and they had to stop me from skating because I was tracking blood and it was a biohazard," Sungchan began, "I hated skating so much at the beginning because I was so bad and I hated being bad at things. I begged and begged my parents to put me into lessons and I was determined to be the best. I hit a stump when I was 13 and puberty hit. I hated how all the easy jumps I could land were suddenly the most difficult thing in the world and it took me a while to find my balance again since I grew so tall in a short period. The time that I hated skating made me realise all the more how much I loved it because it was just showing how much I was willing to give to the sport. That's it, that's my story."

"That's your whole story?" you let go of his hand and skate around him, holding eye contact.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "That's all there is to me. Once I started skating, nothing else mattered. All I do is hang out with you and the boys, and get on the ice at every other time. What's your story, Y/N?"

The two of you skate around an adorable child clutching onto a penguin aid and join again at your hands as you reminisced, "My older cousin loved to skate, so when she would babysit me, she would take me to the rink. At first, my parents hated the idea of that since they didn't want me to get hurt, but I took to skating immediately. It became my life too. School was hard- I was always leaving school early or coming late because of practice and I would be missing days at a time for competitions. I never made many friends at school because of that, so skating was my only friend. I loved everything, but I guess I'm hitting my stump now."

Sungchan hummed and nodded along, "Do you know why?"

"I know it's all in my head," you affirmed, "Me and my therapist agree. I know I can do these jumps and I know that I still do love this sport deep down. I think all the pressure is mounting onto me- you know, continually being the best? But it's all I have and it's driving me crazy. It's the only thing I can take pride in and I think I need something new alongside skating."

"Like what?"

"You're definitely helping," you admitted, looking down, "Not just you. Spending time with you guys is giving me a bit more purpose in life- striving to form better friendships. But you've helped me a lot."

Sungchan grins down at you, surprising you by planting a kiss at the top of your head. He had never been affectionate in public, considering the two of you were keeping a secret from the world, but in this small rink in the outskirts of Paris, he felt like he could shout to the world how he felt about you.

"I don't want you to dread competitions or tear yourself up over your falls. I know there's nothing I can personally say or do to help you, but I just wanna be here for you," Sungchan's words are nearly a confession, but you push that aside as you come to a halt by a little girl falling in the middle of the rink.

"Hey," you coo in your best French, "Are you okay?"

The little girl grabbed your hand with her little fingers and you swooned at how tiny she was. Her eyes are brimming with tears as she tries to find her feet again, so Sungchan grabs her other hand and helps her to stabilise.

He looks over at you, fondness in his eyes as you try to set off the little girl into a slow routine. She's giggling when she is finally able to skate on her own and she thanks you in a cute little voice when she does.

"What's the likelihood that she's gonna be a figure skater when she's older?" you lean against Sungchan's frame, watching her shoot off into the bend.

"Hm, pretty high. You just showed her that if someone's there to pick you up after you fall, it's all gonna be okay."

⋆｡°✩

GRAND PRIX FINAL, DECEMBER 2023

"Song Eunseok," you greeted your friend with a tight hug, and turned to the other, "Park Wonbin! Haven't seen you in a couple of months."

Wonbin affectionately nuzzled his head into your neck, "Did you miss us?"

"I don't know if miss is the right word. Maybe, noticed your absence is better," you teased back, "Isn't this exciting?"

The three of you took your seats right in the front row of the area you had reserved, you in the middle as you watched your best friends warm up on the ice. The other 5 were all participating in the grand prix final, having had the best results in their assignments of the season and were about to compete in the free skate to determine the medalists. Yours had just finished in the slot before, but you were still awaiting the awarding ceremony, hence you still in your costume.

"I would like to be on there with them," Eunseok grumbled, waving hello to a passing Shotaro, "But getting to watch with you isn't so bad."

"There's more seasons to come," you nudged his elbow, "Everyone's on top form this season."

"Especially you, our newly crowned Grand Prix Final gold medalist," Wonbin excitedly clapped, "Three in a row, how does it feel?"

"Like the pressure is still crushing me," you dismissed, "But thank you, Bin. I'm happy."

You steer the conversation along in a different direction, talking about the boys' program and what you were looking forward to see. Anton had a mean quad combination, meanwhile Shotaro's dance elements and step sequences always blew everyone else out of the park. Although you had watched these routines time after time each season, you never got tired of how talented your best friends were.

"Ah right, you went to Paris right? After your assignment there?" Wonbin asked you suddenly.

Your face flushed beet red immediately, "Oh, how do you know?"

"You posted a picture of the Eiffel Tower on your Instagram," Eunseok butted in, "Who'd you go with?"

"Ah, no one you know. Just stopped by on the way to the airport," you lied through your teeth and you hated that you had to do that, but it was your decision anyway.

Sungchan was nearing your side of the stands, and he slowed down significantly as he sent the three of you a wave. You hadn't seen him yet since the end of your free skate that crowned you gold medalist, since he had to prepare to be on the ice immediately afterwards.

"Something's up with Sungchan these days," Wonbin began, eyes trained on the tall figure skating away.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, "But he's like, uh, happier these days? But also more secretive? He's always on his phone and smiling at it and he always sighs when we mention setting him up on a date. Do you think he has a girlfriend he's keeping from us?"

Eunseok nodded along, "I've been noticing that too, actually. What do you think Y/N?"

Your ears flushed red and you prayed they wouldn't notice as you kept your eyes on the boys warming up, "Why are you asking me? You guys spend the most time with him. Plus, why don't you just ask him yourself or wait for him to tell you?"

In all honesty, you were burning with guilt about keeping such a huge secret from the boys, but you and Sungchan were suddenly treading into new territory that you wanted to navigate together first before anything else.

"When we ask him he just changes the topic," Wonbin answered, "To be honest, I thought he had a crush on you. We all did."

"Me?" you exclaimed, looking between the two of them nodding.

"He always talks about you and we thought that was so weird considering you two didn't even seem that close. Channie always asks Taro how you are and we're like: 'why don't you text her yourself?' and then he gets all shy and flustered," Eunseok rambled, "But I guess not."

"Yeah," you trailed off the word, decidedly ending the conversation as the boys evacuated the rink for the first skate.

The thought of Sungchan asking the boys about you made you feel some way- happy, maybe? It was so adorable that he thought of you and that texting you made him shy. You weren't stupid- Sungchan made his intentions clear towards you, but the two of you drew a line and stayed behind it, so you weren't sure what to think. These days, it seemed like Sungchan was destroying that line inch by inch.

Anton was first to skate, so the three of you focused your attention to him instead. A grand prix final with 5 of your best friends was definitely conflicting, but the boys all agreed to never get angry or too competitive with each other and just cheer for each other. Whoever won, won and that was that.

You were glad that all the boys were making it through their programs cleanly and the scores were all in such close proximity to each other that it was actually unclear who might win. Sungchan was last to skate by luck of the draw and by the time it was his turn, you were nearly biting your nails off in anticipation.

While you try not to have favourites between the boys, considering them all to be equally talented in their own ways, Sungchan just had a way of skating that spoke to you. You determined this even before your arrangement.

For a skater his height, he was incredibly graceful with long limbs creating beautiful lines and silhouettes. Despite his abnormally broad shoulders, his jumps were well balanced and tight, and his athleticism made all of them look so easy. His choreographer and coach really used all of his features and abilities to create the most visually stunning and technically superb skate.

"Hyung's been on fire this season," Wonbin muttered beside you, in awe of his friend that was so magnificently treading the ice.

"He's incredible," you agreed softly.

Sungchan was incredibly passionate about figure skating. Of course, you all were since it was your careers and if you didn't love what you were doing, you would quickly burn out. He just had this fire in him that you hadn't seen reflected in other people in a very long time, and that's what you admired about him.

Pushing your own feelings for him aside, you watched him intently as he led up to the most difficult skill in his arsenal- the three of you in the stands all linked arms and muttered prayers and pleadings. It felt like you were on the ice instead- you couldn't breathe until it was over.

"1, 2," you counted under your breath as he took off into his quad lutz. It was almost as if you watched him jump in slow motion, counting every turn until he landed, switched sides of his blades with an euler, before taking off into his triple flip.

You were still holding your breath when Wonbin and Eunseok dragged you up as they jumped up to cheer and whoop at the clean landing and combination. Jung Sungchan was truly one of a kind.

"He's so good," Wonbin squealed as you sat back down to watch him finish off his program, "Crazy good."

You're completely captivated by him for the rest of his skate and it even takes your coach multiple tries to catch your attention to tell you to come down to prepare for the victory ceremony. You plead to wait until Sungchan finished his skate and she just clicks her tongue and gives you a knowing smile.

The rest of the event goes by in a whirlwind, accepting your medals and flowers and taking pictures with your fellow medallists. You speak to some media and change into your comfier clothes, relaxing in your self-prescribed dressing room, which was just an empty room with a table and a couple of chairs.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your trance thinking about your program, and you shouted for them to come in.

"My gold medalist," Sungchan grinned over at you from the door as you jumped up to greet him. He's holding a gorgeous arrangement of flowers in his arms, extending it to you once more, "A gift from us."

You took the flowers, admiring the colours and the smell, before placing it down with the other gifts and your medal, "You guys are always so sweet to me. Congratulations to you as well; that was one of the best programs i've seen in my life!"

"Thank you, Y/N. And Taro says you're our only ice princess so we should spoil you," Sungchan chuckled, slowly approaching you closer and closer, "Anyway, they asked me to come and get you so we can go and get dinner together."

"They asked or you volunteered?"

A smirk took over his face, "Now why would I want to get you alone?"

"Who knows?" you teased as his large hands cupped your cheeks and guided your face to his. All tiredness left your body as you melted into his kiss and you wished that time would stop so you could do this forever.

He captured your lips with his own soft and plump lips, nibbling and kissing so softly and delicately, as if he would break you. It was worlds away from the way you two would make out ferociously in dimly lit hotel rooms after competitions ended at night. It was intentional, sweet and utterly heart-clenching.

"My gorgeous champion," Sungchan murmured against your lips, connecting them again passionately as he snaked his arms around you.

"Channie, we talked about this," you whispered, "We're just getting to know each other still."

Sungchan playfully rolled his eyes and left a fleeting peck before he pulled away, "I know, I know. Let's go before the boys get suspicious?"

He offered out his hand after you picked up all your things and you laced your fingers together and walked out side by side.

⋆｡°✩

PARIS, NOVEMBER 2023

November in the city of love and enlightenment was certainly a chilly ordeal. You were wrapped up in infinite layers, face red and tucked behind a wooly scarf and hat. You would think that since your profession was being around literal ice all day that you would be acclimated to the cold, but Paris was tearing you a new one with its weather.

You and Sungchan were taking a stroll by the River Seine, people watching and basking in each other's quiet company. The thing with Sungchan was that you felt comfortable with him; you's been friends for 6 years anyway, but all this time, you had kept him at arms length in order to protect your heart. Sungchan was still somewhat of a mystery to you- all his thoughts and all his feelings unknown.

"I heard that at night in the summer, they have people play live music here and people will dance along all night," Sungchan sighed, watching the couples stroll by with arms and hands interlocked, bundling together tight to warm each other up.

"That really sounds amazing," you replied, trying to stop yourself imagining dancing with Sungchan by a twinkling river on a cool summer night, "I want to come to Paris again when it's warmer and fully explore it!"

"We should do a trip," Sungchan said and you don't even ask if he meant as a group or just the two of you.

"Y/N?" he called again.

"Hm?"

He stopped to lead you to an empty bench, sitting with a considerable gap away from you before he made the bold move to shuffle closer. Sungchan stared you in the eyes with a longing gaze, "How come you trust me so much? How come you let me stay through your vulnerable moments when I know you don't do that with the others?"

You paused to think momentarily about his question that you'd pondered yourself during sleepless nights many times, "You're always just there. Whenever I end up in a situation like that, you somehow always find me like you have some spider-sense that i'm breaking down. And your presence calms me; you don't even need to say anything," you talked through your thought process slowly, trying to make it make sense in your head as well, "I feel like you understand me well whereas others may feel like I'm self absorbed and selfish for freaking out over such minor mistakes. And I can just feel in my heart that I can trust you. Thank you for always being there for me, Sungchan. I hope I don't burden you with my own breakdowns."

Sungchan smiled shyly, taking your gloved hands between his, "I'm really thankful that you do trust me. Don't ever think that you burden me because I do want to be there for you. Me and the boys hate seeing you so upset, so whatever I can do to help you through is nothing for me; we're in such a demanding field that it's important to have a good support system."

"You guys have really made my career. I don't know how I could have lasted this long without all of you," you emphasised the 'all', hoping he would catch on to your allusion of how special he was to you.

"You know, Y/N," he began, voice suddenly shaking and nervous, "I've been meaning to get some time alone with you in the daytime to talk for a while now."

You chuckled anxiously, "Did you take me to Paris to break up with me? Break up as in end our arrangement?"

"I like you, Y/N," he deadpanned, dismissing your pessimistic comment. Your heart started beating fast instantly, "I really like you and I can't carry on what we have until I tell you. We can move forward however you want: we can end the arrangement or just carry on as we are, but I just wanted to tell you."

His words don't shock you much. You think Sungchan has been confessing in his own little gestures and actions for some time now, but he finally threw the ball in your court.

You looked down at your intertwined hands, smiling softly and exhaled a puff of white frost, "We were bound to fall for each other, right? I just don't want to to hurt you since I've been in a bad place this past few months. I'm slowly getting out of it, but I just don't want to drag you down with me."

"I just want to be by your side," Sungchan whispered gently, "I just want to be able to kiss you in front of the world and call you mine."

"In front of the world?" you teased, ignoring the way your heart was swooning at his sweet confession.

"I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want to hide you forever," Sungchan voiced out, "I want to text you how you are and not feel like I'm overstepping and I have so much more of myself I want to give you."

You finally met his eyes again, "Let's make a deal, Jung Sungchan. Let's get to know each other well and more intentionally over the rest of the season and try that out. When it ends, we can think about what's next."

"I like the sound of that," Sungchan grinned, "I can still kiss you though, right? I think I'd die without it. The months between Worlds and your first assignment was hell for me."

"You're so dramatic," you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging your shoulders against his.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Sungchan?"

"Does that mean you like me back?"

You let out a laugh that Sungchan swears is the best thing he's heard in his life, and you pulled him by your entwined hands, telling him you want to go see the Eiffel Tower.

⋆｡°✩

SOUTH KOREA, APRIL 2024

Shotaro is smiling happily as he placed the orange juice pouch in front of you on the sand. You're sat on a blanket, knees tucked up to your chest as you watched the waves crash against the rocks peacefully. You think it's a good time to swim since the tide might be too strong later.

"Thank you," you coo at your best friend as he laid down beside you, flicking his sunglasses over his eyes.

You pierced the pouch with the straw and let out a happy sigh as the freezing cold juice invaded your taste buds. Late April in the south coast of Korea was thankfully warmer than the previous weeks you spent in Seoul with a new choreographer, piecing together your new program for the upcoming season.

The beach house behind you does very little to block out the sun, considering the sun is shining the opposite way and down to you, so you had made sure to lather up in sunscreen before relaxing on the beach. You had read half your book before Shotaro woke up from his short post-breakfast power nap and decided to join you on the sand.

"I think Anton and Sohee are still asleep cuddling," Shotaro laughed. You had tried to wake up the pair for breakfast, but they had both grumbled and sent you on your way back to the kitchen, nestling into their shared bed even more.

"They can be in charge of lunch then," you huffed, "When's everyone else coming? What time is it?"

"It's only 11:30," he told you, "I think the other 4 are all arriving together soon- maybe around now."

You, Shotaro, Anton and Sohee were able to make it first to the beach house that you all booked for a peaceful week and a half trip. You had already stayed the night, but the other boys had commitments that meant they could only come now. It was all fine, since you were there for a pretty long time anyway.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as Shotaro closed his eyes and took in the fresh sea breeze.

"How have you been since Worlds?" Shotaro broke the silence.

"Better, but I'd hate to find out if my happiness only stems from redeeming myself at this year's Worlds," you recounted. The last time you had seen the boys previous to the trip was the Worlds Championship the previous month, the same competition that caused a year-long spiral down into near insanity. Thankfully, you managed to escape scot-free and with a gold medal around your neck.

"How does it feel now stepping onto the ice? Does that dread still overcome you?" Shotaro asked softly.

After your worst skate on the world stage, it had taken you nearly a month to step back onto the ice since every time you attempted, you were instantly tossed back into that moment. It took another month before you even tried attempting your signature triple axel again. At your first assignment, you had felt fear instead of excitement as you began.

"I don't think so," you said lowly, afraid that if you said it with anymore confidence, it would come back to haunt you, "I think i'm on the other side completely. I have you and the boys to thank for that."

Shotaro smiled proudly, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tight affectionately. You missed speaking like this to your best friend, just the two of you- on rooftops, beaches, cafés, ice rinks, diners- spilling your hearts and confiding in each other. You hated that you were still keeping such a big secret from him.

"Hyung? Noona?" you heard a soft voice call out behind you. You turned around to find Anton peeking only his head out of the double doors at the back of the house overlooking the beach, "The others are pulling up!" The two of you shot up, picking up your blanket, your book and your trash before skipping through the sand to reach the house.

You were nervous, quite honestly, but the good kind, which was new for you. You hadn't seen Sungchan since Worlds (though you've stayed much more connected than in the past when apart) and all you could think about was the agreement between the two of you to revise your arrangement once the season had ended. And it has.

However, the talk was still pending.

You joined Sohee and Anton watching from the wide open front door as the boys were getting their bags out of the car trunk and rolling it up the driveway.

"Vacation time!" Seunghan whooped, dancing into the house with his suitcase in tow and a plastic bag filled with clinking glass, "We're going to get fucked up this week!"

"Well hello to you too, Hannie," he approached you with open arms before you were pulled away into another hug.

"Hmph," you were taken by surprise as Wonbin crushed your frame.

"Haven't seen you in ages," he said sadly. He wasn't at Worlds since he had injured himself slightly at 4 Continents before that, so it had been a while.

"How are you?" you poked his arm, "How's the knee?"

"It'll be totally fixed up before the season starts," he dismissed, grinning at you before going to greet the boys. You quickly hugged Eunseok and turned your attention to the last one through the door.

"Sungchan," you quickly enveloped his waist in a tight hug and he wrapped his arms around your neck and leaned down to your ear.

"Hey there," you could feel him smiling, "Missed you."

You pulled away quickly, trying to not be obvious in front of the boys, simply giving him a smile of reciprocation as you all migrated to the living room.

"D'you guys claim rooms already?" Eunseok looked around at the interior of the beach house.

"Hm," Sohee nodded sleepily, "Anton and I took the double bed on the right of the stairs and there's a room with another double across it."

"My room has a single bed and a double so two more of you can stay with me," Shotaro explained, "Then our princess Y/N gets the master bedroom all to herself."

You grinned teasingly at the boys who affectionately cooed at you and your overpacking. Your clothes were all currently sprawled out everywhere since you dug deep into it to find your pyjamas the night before and didn't bother to unpack properly.

"Dibs on the single," Eunseok rushed out, to which the other boys groaned at, "What? Shotaro likes to cuddle at night and I get too hot for that."

"I'll cuddle with you, Hyung," Wonbin said cutely, wrapping his arms and leg around Shotaro's side. Shotaro chuckled and fondly agreed.

"Yay, we're roomies!" Seunghan tugged on Sungchan's arm, "What are we doing today?"

"How about relaxing?" Wonbin groaned, "Sleeping?"

"Yah, you already slept the whole drive down!" Eunseok protested, "We can unpack and then grocery shop?"

The others seemed to decide that was a good idea so you also headed up to your room to sort out your clothes. Normally, you never properly unpacked in the countless hotel rooms you stayed in, since you only every brought your skates, your costumes and a couple of comfortable sweats to lounge in in between skating sessions. However, since you were staying for a while and doing activities (Shotaro made sure to book a place far from any ice skating rinks), you had to bring a lot of clothes.

Leaving your door open as you sat on the wooden floor and arranged your clothes into piles, you saw Eunseok and Wonbin drag their suitcases up the stairs and onto your wing of the house and they peeked in.

"Wow, noona this room is so nice," Wonbin expressed, "You're so lucky."

"Yeah I deserve not having to share with you guys. You're all pigs," you threw a sock at him that he threw right back.

"Guys, come look at the master," Eunseok craned his head and called over to the other boys bringing their bags up. Eunseok and Wonbin crossed the landing to their room to make space for the approaching Seunghan and Sungchan.

"Wow," Sungchan gasped in awe as he traversed the room and past you, "A bay window looking out at the sea?" He clapped happily as he stretched out across the cushions on the bay.

"Yah, get off! It's mine," you pouted, getting up from the floor to check the view outside. Since you arrived after the sun had already set, you didn't get to see what the view was like before and in the morning, Shotaro had dragged you straight down to the kitchen without even letting you do so much as brush your hair.

You could see from the corner of your eye that Seunghan had turned around and closed the door behind him, which left you slightly suspicious.

"Why did he close the door and leave?" Sungchan frowned, sitting up and patting the cushion next to him for you to have a seat. You sat down, twisting your body to examine the view. It was so peaceful and you couldn't wait to see how the sunset would illuminate your room in vivid colours.

"Beats me," you shrugged, "Did you tell them anything? They've been suspicious that you've been dating someone since grand prix final!"

"Yeah, I know. They keep bugging me about it," he rolled his eyes, "But I haven't said anything!"

"Hm," you hummed, "Anyway, how was the drive up?"

"I called shotgun then Eunseok demanded that I stay awake the whole time to keep him company," Sungchan recounted, "Seunghan and Wonbin were completely knocked out in the back, but it was a nice and smooth trip. What have you guys been doing here?"

"We all just explored the house and then went to bed last night pretty quickly, but Taro and I had breakfast and sat on the beach for a bit before you guys came."

Sungchan shuffled over, his hips bumping against yours, "Mhm, sounds nice! We should take a walk on the beach later. A nice long walk on the beach."

"Just us?" you inquired, brow raised.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure how to get you alone without the others being suspicious. This is probably suspicious enough," he pointed at the door, "They're all probably on the other side with their ears pressed against the door."

"We could just tell them," you suggested cautiously, "That we're getting to know each other?"

Sungchan dropped his head onto your shoulder and sighed, "I like keeping this to us. Our own little secret. It's fun for now, but maybe when we get a bit more tired we can tell them. We'll find a way to spend time with each other a little bit, but I guess it's a group vacation after all."

"Yeah, let's not stress," you agreed. Sungchan started playing with your fingers, twisting your rings and measuring up his large hands with yours before he entwined them together. He peered up at you from your shoulder and reached up to press a kiss along your jawline. You rotated your head to look down at him and before you know it, he had stolen a kiss from your lips.

You nudged him off of your body playfully as he tried to lean in for another kiss, "Go unpack! Hannie's gonna get suspicious!"

He feigned displeasure as he got up and stretched high, nearly touching the ceiling, "Mhm, okay, whatever you say. I'll see you later, love."

You bit back a grin, "Bye Channie."

⋆｡°✩

Sungchan is pushing one of the shopping carts as Shotaro and Sohee trailed behind him. In reality, they should be ahead, but they stopped far too often to point at random things and Sungchan was getting impatient. The three of them were on snack duty, while you, Eunseok and Wonbin were on ingredients duty, as you were the best cooks. Anton and Seunghan had skipped away the second you all arrived and every so often passed by and dumped an armful of things in the cart.

"What kind of crisps should we get?" Shotaro placed his hands on his hips and examined the vast wall of options in front of him. He picked out a few, Sohee following also and placed them in the cart.

Sungchan spotted a rare flavour to find, "They have truffle flavour! Let's get this. I think Y/N likes these."

"How'd you know that, hyung?" Sohee questioned, not interrogatively, just nonchalantly.

"Uh- I think she's mentioned it before," Sungchan stammered, "Let's get drinks."

Shotaro shot him an unsure look, but skipped ahead of the cart anyway to find the beverage aisle. From a few aisles down, Sungchan could hear you laughing with Wonbin and Eunseok and he wished he was by your side.

Eventually, you all converged at the checkouts, carts full and wallets about to be emptied, metaphorically. You had chosen a bunch of meats to grill on the patio down to the beach and lots of ingredients to make side dishes and other random things. The three in charge of cooking followed their task diligently, whereas Anton and Seunghan had produced a pool floater, a bunch of water guns and so many hangover sticks that you were all worried about how much Seunghan was going to force everyone to drink.

You returned to the house in two cars, the same groupings as how you came to the house and rapidly unpacked everything.

"Today, Eunseok, Wonbin and Seunghan are in charge of lunch for everyone," Shotaro declared, "We'll take turns making food each mealtime!"

Everyone made noises of agreement, slowly dispersing through the house as the cooks brainstormed what to serve.

"Does anyone want to go on a walk on the beach? I haven't seen it yet," Sungchan queried to no one in particular. Anton and Shotaro had turned around guiltily from where they were crouched under the TV. You could see that they were fiddling with some wires and powering on the console that they brought to the house. Ah, boys.

"Gonna play FIFA," Shotaro held up the game case sheepishly, "Maybe later?"

"I'll come with you now," you offered slowly, "I love the beach!"

Sungchan gave you a knowing smile and turned to Sohee, "What about you?"

Sohee looked up at you and Sungchan and then down to Anton and Shotaro, who had widened their eyes in order to communicate with him. He opened his mouth and spoke hesitantly, "Uh, I wanna play as well. Is it okay?"

"Mhm, suit yourself," Sungchan shrugged, happy on the inside that he had found a way to be alone with you.

The two of you slipped on more suitable footwear and grabbed a few snacks before heading out onto the beach.

(Meanwhile, Shotaro, Anton and Sohee were smirking in the living room, delighted that their own devious plan to get you and Sungchan together was coming into effect.)

"That was easy," Sungchan chuckled as you chose a direction to walk down.

"Surprisingly! You know how much Sohee loves the beach!" you frowned again but shook out the suspicion, "Whatever. I'm happy to spend time with you."

The second you were far enough from clear view from the house, Sungchan had interlaced his fingers with yours, happily swinging your conjoined arms between you. With his other hand, he ran it through his fluffy brown locks and basked in the soft breeze of being down by the ocean.

The beach was fortunately pretty deserted of people, since it wasn't terribly hot in climate yet, but there were a couple of people dotted around closer to the water.

"This is definitely what a healing trip is made of," he sighed contently, "That was a hard season."

Facing your own challenges didn't mean that the boys also weren't experiencing some hardships of their own. You know that Sohee was taking it hard with some injuries and Sungchan had only introduced his hardest combination the season just past, which is never easy.

"We all deserve a little break," you agreed, "To spend time with each other and definitely not talk or think about skating at all."

"What a dream," Sungchan was too elated being on this trip and it had barely begun, "Here with my best friends and my best girl."

You had stopped in your tracks and punched him softly in the chest, "Don't say that!"

He lowered his neck to meet you at your eye-level, "Why? Did it give you butterflies?"

You scoffed, pushing him away from you, but he decided to wrap his arms around you instead and sway your bodies around.

"You're too bold now, Jung Sungchan," you huffed, "Where's the boy that never speaks whenever we're around people? And the boy that blushed every time we kissed in secret?"

"He found out that the girl he liked likes him back and was giving him a chance to woo her off her feet!" Sungchan poked his tongue out at you and finally let you go, returning to your linked hands and continuing to walk.

"Woo?" you laughed at his teasing.

He nodded affirmatively, "Yeah, woo. Have you been woo'ed?"

You looked away for a second, hesitant to be so candid with him, but you figured that if he was so bold, you couldn't let this chance slip away.

"You're my ideal man, Sungchanie," you admitted quietly, "I like everything about you. I like having you by my side."

His face heated up so suddenly, so far removed from the confidence that was radiating off him just seconds ago. His heart was beating out of his chest as he tried to utter his words as casually as possible, "Enough to make me your boyfriend?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip to stop you from freaking out and smiling like a maniac, "Is that a confession? Is this our evaluation?"

"You already know I like you," he affirmed softly, "If you're ready for a relationship and if you're ready to have me in that way, you're in control."

You were still walking, barely looking at each other and too shy.

"Ask me."

"What?"

"Ask me the question," you whined as he seemed to play dumb.

Sungchan grinned down at you, his bambi eyes sparkling in the sun as he shook his hair out of them. He paused your stroll momentarily, turning to face you and closing the distance between your feet.

He nudged his nose against yours, a favourite move of his as he took a deep breath, "Y/N," he began slowly, "Please can I be your boyfriend?"

"Sungchan!" you laughed suddenly, "The question is 'will you be my girlfriend?'"

"That's not enough to express how much I want to be your boyfriend though," he pouted, "Doesn't matter, just give me an answer."

You threw your arms around his neck, still giggling, "Of course you can be my boyfriend, Jung Sungchan. I'm sorry you've been on trial period for like 5 months now."

Sungchan connected his lips to yours, giving you a soft peck, "Don't be sorry. I just wanted to show you how much I wanted to be there for you."

"And thank you for that. I couldn't have gotten through this season without you," you proclaimed gently.

He bumped his shoulders with yours as he took your hand again, "Don't get too sappy. You'll probably hate us by the end of this trip."

"I swear, if you guys don't clean after yourselves and leave the bathroom messy and dirty, I'll kill you all!" you remarked.

Sungchan laughed heartily- a sound that you had grown to adore over the past few months when you would share hushed conversations getting to know each other over the phone at night and calls whenever your schedules aligned. The two of you walked a little further, just talking about your plans for the trip and pointing out the cute, but also the endearingly ugly, dogs that were running around the beach. Eventually, Eunseok had texted you that lunch was nearly cooked and for the two of you to start heading back.

You couldn't believe that you left the beach house in a situationship and came back as a girlfriend! In fact, you probably still hadn't processed the fact that the Jung Sungchan was finally your boyfriend after all these years of creating boundaries and drawing lines to protect yourself and your heart.

All this time, Sungchan was your right person, wrong time, but you were so happy to be able to say that he stayed by your side long enough to become your right person at the right time.

⋆｡°✩

You were breathless and pliant in Sungchan's hold as he pressed feather-light kisses along your neck. He peppered them across your jaw, ending at the corner of your mouth before pulling away.

"Just kiss me," you begged as he smirked above you. Sungchan loved seeing you like this and now that you were officially his, it ignited a new spark in his heart that had always beat for you anyway.

It was past halfway through the beach trip and you had spent the past week lounging around on the beach and exploring the seaside town together. You spent mornings taking walks with the boys, the afternoon sunbathing and relaxing under parasols on the beach and the evening huddled around a bonfire just talking, singing and reminiscing. You were hard-pressed to find time alone with Sungchan, but you didn't mind since you came with the intention to hang out with your best friends and the new season wasn't going into full effect for a few months anyway.

Despite that, Sungchan had been sneaking into your room either before the others woke up or after they went to sleep, usually just to say goodnight and pillow talk, but sometimes to also make out like you were doing now.

Light flooded into the room from the expansive bay window, bathing Sungchan's face in sunlight. His twinkling eyes against his golden skin made you want to stare in them forever.

You were snapped out of your daydream when you heard a door click open and then close behind someone, and then footsteps on the hardwood floor. You pushed Sungchan off of you and he rushed over to sit at the bay window while you straightened out your bed and your clothes to give the illusion that your boyfriend hadn't been attacking you with his lips for the past half an hour.

You could hear a few more doors open and then close, before a knock on your door sounded out. Gingerly, you shuffled to your door and peeked out to find a sleepy and dishevelled Seunghan.

"Noona, have you seen Sungchan-hyung? He's not in bed," he was blinking slowly, as if trying to adjust to the natural light in your room. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, you opened the door wider and pointed sheepishly at the missing boy.

"Hey, I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep so me and Y/N were just talking and planning the day," Sungchan hummed as casually as he could muster up, "Do you need something?"

You let Seunghan inside your room and he immediately collapsed on your four-poster bed, sighing as he felt the soft sheets hit his head, "Nah, just wondering where you went and if you guys suddenly all decided to wake up and do something without me."

"You know everyone's so hard to get up in the morning," you mused, "Sungchan and I are the only morning people."

"You must have got closer then," Seunghan mumbled to himself, eyes fluttering shut, "That's good, noona. You weren't always as close to hyung."

You sat criss-cross next to his body as you shot Sungchan a pointed look. Was this the time you were going to reveal your relationship to the others? Sneaking around for the past week had been exhilarating, but it did weigh on the two of you to keep such a big secret from them. 

"We're going to the fair today, right?" he carried on, breaking the tension between you and your boyfriend.

"Mhm, so you better get up and wake the others up so we can have breakfast and get going," you told him as he groaned. Sungchan was just smiling at you lazily from the window, watching your sweet and maternal interaction with the younger boy. You prodded Seunghan a few more times before he finally rolled away and off the bed and Sungchan followed him out of the door, giving you a small wave goodbye.

You slowly got yourself ready for the day ahead, knowing it was going to take a while before all 7 of the boys could wake up and get refreshed enough to leave. By the time you were done, the youngest ones were preparing breakfast in the kitchen, singing along to the song on the radio perched on a floating shelf.

"Need any help?" you cast your eyes over Sohee and Anton who grinned happily as they saw you for the first time.

"Mhm, no," Sohee assured you, leading you to the already set dining table and pointing at the food, "We're nearly done so you can just wait for us or start eating if you want."

For the duration of the entire trip, it seemed like the boys were determined to not let you lift a finger. Although you were happy to help in cooking and cleaning, every time you were on the rotation, whoever was with you would work hard and take a lot of your work off you. Then again, the boys had always been sweet to you. Of course, they were funny, teasing and ridiculous, but at the core of it, they treated you like their little sister even though you were older than most of them. You really think that you couldn't have lucked out more with a friendship group and found family.

Anton served an over hard egg on your plate and you noticed that the rest on the serving plate was filled with sunny-side up eggs. See, they even paid attention to your food preferences.

Seunghan was next to come down, more wide awake than when you saw him last and seemingly energised by the prospect of food. He sat on your right, quickly scooping all of the dishes he wanted but stopping himself from eating until everyone came down.

Wonbin and Shotaro descended next, complaining about how long each other took to shower and get ready, but Eunseok came right behind them hair still dripping, to your chagrin as he made the floors slippery. Sungchan finally came down just moments later and took the empty seat next to you.

"Yay, let's eat!" Anton clapped his hands together as you completed the table.

"Wonbin-hyung, you'll go on the rides with us today, right?" Sohee crunched through his sausage.

"No, you can't force me to do anything," he grumbled and the rest of you chuckled at the man you knew to be so scared of fast and high rides, "I can watch over our stuff if you do go."

That was exactly the coversation you were having 2 hours later as all 8 of you stood in front of the tallest and fastest rollercoaster at the fair. In all honesty, it wasn't even that big and scary considering it was only a small fair that moved around, so the rides had to be simple to deconstruct. Even still, Wonbin planted his feet on the ground and firmly shook his head.

"But there's an uneven number of us," Shotaro whined, tugging at Bin's arm, "C'mon, just this once?"

He pouted and batted his long eyelashes as Anton sighed, "It's okay, I'll stay with hyung. I don't feel that good after that hot dog anyway."

Looking around, all of you had accepted defeat, so you joined the short line for the ride and immediately began grouping yourselves into pairs. At the one amusement park you had joined them at since you guys became friends, you stuck by Shotaro's side the whole time as you were still opening yourself up to the others. This time, you didn't really mind as Sohee linked arms with your boyfriend.

As the line progressed and you were at the front, Eunseok made his way to the back of the pack with you and helped you into the cart before sitting by your side. The climb up was decently steep and you could hear and feel the vibrations of the rails under you. You could also see Sohee still clutching Sungchan's arm and Seunghan and Shotaro preparing to raise their arms up when the ride plummeted.

As it slowly approached the peak, Eunseok cleared his throat, "You guys are pretty obvious, you know?"

You snapped your head so fast that even this rollercoaster couldn't give you the whiplash you gave yourself, "What?"

The ride was so rickety and loud that the boys in front of you couldn't hear you as Eunseok smirked, "You and Channie. Well at least to me you're obvious."

You opened your mouth to say something along the lines of you had no idea what he was talking about, but suddenly the ride dropped and a scream erupted from your throat. From beside you, Eunseok was nearly doubling over in laughter at how he caught you so flustered and shocked.

"Yah, don't run away from me," Eunseok laughed, calling after you as you gave him a pointed stare and ran ahead to catch up to Wonbin and Anton first.

Sungchan with his long strides reached you quickly, "What was that about?"

Anton and Wonbin's eyes were trained on you, so you merely waved your hand and dismissed it, "Nothing, just some nonsense."

You were grateful that Eunseok didn't say anything else when he arrived at the fence the others were waiting at, but for the rest of the fair, he would give you teasing smiles whenever you got so much as remotely close to Sungchan.

The sun was about to set and you were all nearly tired enough to go home. Between the big rides, the boys put on their competitive hats and kept challenging each other to the stalls that were known to be scams. They were probably blowing all of their prize money between them, but you had to keep walking back and forth between the fair and your cars since they were accumulating far too many plushies to hold.

"Just one more," Sungchan pleaded so cutely that you were resigned to say yes to, "Then we can go home after! Song Eunseok! Do this one with me!"

He was tugging on your arm, pointing at the basketball booth before slinging his arm around Eunseok's shoulder and dragging him along. Behind you, the youngests were happily munching on long churro sticks that Shotaro had bought for them, meanwhile he was conversing with Wonbin behind them.

"Loser has to grill all the meat later," Eunseok bargained. It was the two of them on main dinner duty once you returned to the house.

"Well what if we both win?" Sungchan huffed.

"Doubt it," Eunseok chuckled, as he handed over his bills to the booth manager.

You rolled your eyes at their antics- everyone knew that the basketball hoops were oval shaped and the chance of getting a ball in was slim. Even still, they both paid for the highest amount of balls in order to have the chance to win the biggest prize. If they got three balls through the hoop, then they could pick from the large prizes.

The boys finally caught up to you guys and sighed at the competition they saw in front of them. Eunseok was very passionate about basketball and Sungcham was very passionate about winning.

"No cheating," Sungchan swatted at Eunseok, who narrowed his eyes playfully.

They both began, the rest of you cheering them on. Both of them missed their first two shots, and they had to make the last 3 to win the big prize. Surprisingly, they also both were able to shoot the next two together, and were staring each other down as they picked up the last basketball.

"You're going down, Song Eunseok," Sungchan taunted, sticking his tongue out. Eunseok rolled his eyes and decided to shoot first at the hoop. You all watched in anticipation as the ball hit the rim... and then bounced off. Eunseok screamed in defeat and all eyes were turned to Sungchan.

He carefully examined the hoop and decided to just go for it. You were all shocked that it went in!

Sunchan whooped in glee, taunting Eunseok before throwing his arm around your shoulder. That was a pretty normal thing for the other boys to do to you, but it certainly wasn't the way Sungchan used to interact with you.

"You can choose the prize, Y/N," he grinned down at you, pointing at the array of large animal plushies attached around the booth.

You gasped as you laid your eyes on the most perfect choice and you leaned into his touch as you pointed it out, "That one!"

The booth attendant took it off its hook and handed it over to you. Gleefully, you held it up to Sungchan and cooed, "It looks just like you, Channie!"

Sungchan was smiling so dorkily at how the large baby deer plushie was making you so happy, and you were both too busy cooing at the plushie to notice the boys, jaws dropped and watching you.

"Uh," Wonbin uttered, "What's going on here?"

The silence that fell caused you and Sungchan to turn around, and upon realising their reaction, you jumped away from each other, still both holding the plushie.

"What do you mean?" Sungchan scratched his neck awkwardly, "You all got a prize for Y/N earlier. I wanted to as well."

Seunghan nodded slowly, "Okay, okay. Sure. But we just got small prizes."

"Is it my fault that I was good at this?" Sungchan retorted as he began walking your group towards the car park. You scurried behind him, hugging the deer close to your chest.

You fell back a little from Sungchan and slowed your footsteps since the boys behind you started whispering to themselves.

"I think Operation Sung-Y/N is working!" Sohee whisper-hissed. You raised your eyebrow at that. There's no way, right? There's no way that they were doing a whole scheme to set you up together with your boyfriend- not that they know that.

You decided not to confront them and joined Sungchan's side again. He had turned to talk to you, but saw you had slowed down so he had stopped in his tracks and waited for you. Sungchan sighed to himself as he watched you bound over with the plushie. He wished he could be in your embrace the way that plushie was connected to you. Frankly, he should have just told everyone else right then as they got suspicious, but he had a feeling you wanted to do it more lowkey.

Later on that night, Sungchan was lying on top of your sheets as you played with his hair. It was his turn to hug the deer- the only one that made it to your bed as you banished the other plushies the boys gave you onto the windowsill.

The others were all downstairs, either preparing the side dishes and preparing the grill or fighting each other on the playstation.

"We can tell them tomorrow," you sighed happily. his hair was so soft and bouncy that it instantly bounced back to its spot after you ran your hand through it, "And then we'll have 2 days here to act like a couple."

"Ah, two days," Sungchan sighed, "When am I going to see you again after that? I want to take you on a proper date, finally."

You gasped to yourself, bringing your hands to your mouth. Sungchan sat up quickly, eyebrows stitched together in worry, "Oh, what's up? What's wrong?"

You began laughing to yourself and Sungchan looked at you like you had grow two heads, "I forgot to tell you guys completely! I have some news for you all!"

"Ah, what is it?"

"I'm going to train in Seoul this season!"

Sungchan yelped in surprise, suddenly attacking you in a hug down onto the bed, "Oh my gosh, really? Are you serious? It's not a joke right?"

You giggled happily as he attacked your face wiyh kisses, "You know my coach Lina? Well, she's pregnant and she asked if I would be willing to relocate to Seoul so she could be around her family and her husband's family! She wants to receive maternal care here, so," you trailed off.

"Oh my, I'm so happy," Sungchan breathed out, "You mean I won't have to wait months in between competitions to come and see you? I can see you everyday?"

"Hey, you have a skating career too," you poked his chest, "Make sure you focus on that. But if it works, then sure! I'm going apartment hunting as soon as we all drive back up to Seoul!"

Sungchan was so elated, dreaming about all his favourite places that he would take you, "Ah, I think there's an apartment empty in our building. Do you want me to ask our management team?"

The boys all lived in the same building, some of them sharing and some of them living alone since there were various apartment layouts. You recalled that Sungchan lived with Shotaro on the 7th floor of the building, but you had only visited twice before.

You had a thought about declining his offer. Maybe it was moving too fast for you if you moved into his apartment building, but then again, the rest of your friends were there too and it wasn't like you were moving into his room. The thought of having all of them around often and being able to guide you through the city comforted you, so you just gave him an appreciative smile and nodded, "Mhm, that would be nice."

A happy sound escaped his throat and you're certain that moving to Seoul was the best move for you at this stage. Sungchan flipped you around so he was below you and you hovering over him. He brought his hand up to your face, tucking your hair out of your eyes and settling his large palms on your soft cheeks.

He guided your face down and you could feel his breath ghosting over your mouth. Sungchan connected his eyes with yours, "I really, really like you, Y/N. Thank you for giving me a chance."

Stealing his move, you grazed your nose against his, "You tell me that everyday, baby. I really, really like you too. I'm excited for this new season."

It wasn't just a new season of figure skating where you were going to debut new programs. It was a whole new season in your life. It felt like you could finally release yourself from the shackles of the bad moments of your past and start anew- a new country, and a new boyfriend.

He craned his neck up to softly touch your lips together, but he hadn't made any other moves, so you slid your arms around his neck and melted into his chest, parting his lips with yours and deepening the kiss.

You have always loved kissing Sungchan. His kisses seemed to heal every pain and suffering in the world and made you forget even your own name sometimes. He was always a passionate person, tending to your whines and requests whenever you got frustrated and he was teasing you. You don't know how, but since becoming his girlfriend, kissing him felt even better than it did before.

You were so engrossed in each other that you hadn't even heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, or Seunghan's soft calls for you, or his knocking on the door, or the way the door creaked as he opened it.

"Yah!" his scream caused Sungchan to sit up so hard and fast that you fell off of him and onto the floor, "My eyes!"

Sungchan smoothed his clothes out in a panic and yelped in apology as he helped you up from the floor. He scowled at his younger friend, "Do you know how to knock?"

"I did!" Seunghan exclaimed, throwing his hands up, "I even called for you, noona! Ah, I'm so traumatised! How can I get that out of my head?"

Your face must have been as red as the way it flushes when you get drunk as you just watched silently against the bed.

"Hey, what's going on? Hurry up, we wanna eat!" Wonbin appeared behind Seunghan who was still rubbing his eyes, unable to believe what he saw. Wonbin looked at him, confused by his reaction and the yells, "What happened?"

Suddenly, the other 4 boys all came out of nowhere too, crammed in the small hallway and looking between you on the bed, Sungchan closer to the door and Seunghan just on the other side.

"I caught them," Seunghan dramatically screeched, throwing his arms around Wonbin, "I caught them!"

"Caught them doing what?" Shotaro frowned.

"Making out!" Seunghan screamed, to which the rest of the boys started yelling in surprise too, suddenly firing questions at you and Sungchan, who was looking worriedly and apologetically at you.

"I knew it!" Eunseok smirked.

"Oh my God?" Anton gasped quietly and Sohee was mirroring his reaction.

"Are you guys fucking?" Seunghan was still dramatically wailing.

Sungchan scoffed, offended, "No! Well-" he looked at you, giving you the choice to give as much information.

"We're in a relationship," you revealed softly, laughing at their dropped jaws, "Well, only since the trip. We've been getting to know each other since Paris."

"Paris?" Wonbin gawked, "Paris? So when we asked you who you went to Paris with and you said no one, you actually were with Sungchan-hyung?"

"Yeah," you tilted your head and scratched the back of your neck, "Sorry for some white lies we've had to tell. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a bit, navigate new territories and make sure it doesn't affect our friendship with you guys."

Shotaro stepped into the room, huddling over to give you a hug, "Well we're all happy for you both. Besides, we were all conspiring to set you two up this trip."

"We were so proud at how well it was working," Sohee cried out, "Turns out we're the fools!"

You think back through the trip at the instances they created to get you alone together, whether it was taking quick trips to the grocery store because they 'forgot' an ingredient, or just leaving you two behind whenever you were walking and relaxing on the beach. You were thankful the boys were so silly to create a plan like that, otherwise you couldn't have spent so much time with your new boyfriend on the healing trip.

"It's okay guys," Sungchan grinned lopsidedly, "It was funny to watch." "Um," Seunghan interrupted, "I actually came up cause I was coming to tell you that dinner was ready."

Eunseok nodded, turning on his heel, "Yeah, I'm really hungry. Can we talk about this over barbecue instead?"

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement, making their way down the stairs. You sighed heavily, looking at Sungchan who placed a loving kiss on your hair, "That was so chaotic. Are we okay, though?"

You smiled up at him and took his hand pulling you up, "More than okay. They were bound to find out and they're all so happy about it."

Sungchan splayed his palm against yours and then locked your fingers together, "Ah, wait til you tell them about moving to Seoul. They'll forget this news instantly!"

You let the grin invade your face as you happily imagined the way they'd cheer and instantly bombard you with outings to do and places to visit together in Seoul. You were definitely certain now that your relationship with Sungchan wasn't going to change your friendship.

"Lovers, come on!" Eunseok yelled up the stairs, "The food is getting cold so stop making out!"

Well, maybe a little bit. But as long as you were able to call Sungchan yours, you were sure you could endure anything.

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a/n: thank you for reading:) pls let me know what you think<3

[melmedarda]

Those in the fandom calling Mel manipulative are suffering from a severe lack of media literacy. Mel being framed as manipulative is a misdirect, said by the writers themselves in the Art of Arcane book. And those who refuse to see Mel as anything other than manipulative are falling into that trap.

The writers have set her up to appear as one thing while being another. She is a woman of mercy. She has all the tools to be like Ambessa, all the upbringing, but she actively pushes against it. She's pragmatic and utilitarian in her political approach. It's not about what is best for her, but what is for the greater good. For Mel it's about giving back. She did not invest in Hextech for herself, but to protect the city of Piltover from threats like Ambessa, while Ambessa only wanted to use it for their family. A lot of the fandom is painting Mel as the woman Ambessa is, and frankly, that is a disservice to Mel's character. She is not perfect. Yes she is wealthy, and yes she was either unaware/inactive in regards to the state of Zaun, I will not deny that. Her inaction caused her much regret, as she says in her game lines, which shoes she can learn the hard lessons from her mistakes. She is not the villain you all believe her to be

She is complex, but she is filled with good will. She never manipulated Jayce but mentored him to operate in the political arena of Piltover so that Hextech would not be monopolized or crushed by those in the council. When she did use her influence within the council, it was to save Jayce from exile, to prepare appropriate measures to protect Piltover by someone who would not taint its purpose (which is why it had to be Jayce), and to grant independence to Zaun. Yes, her decisions appear self-serving at first, but when you take a step back, you see it. It was her way of giving back to the city, she says as much to Jayce. To protect her city and the lives within it. Her approach may not be as straightforward, but she is no less well intentioned for it.

In season 2 she says, "No life is expendable." To Ambessa, she says "If you care for me at all, spare their lives." And her in game line reiterates this sentiment, "To think these gifts were hidden within me. The lives I could have saved…" This is her driving force in all that she does. Her respect for the sanctity of life is what Ambessa considers Mel's weakness, but really, it is her greatest strength and I will always love her for it. It's the reason why I am so eager to see how she fares in Noxus, where strength is glorified, and the only way death is decided is by taking life. It's my hope that she doesn't change, and that her compassion will continue to be her strength. I hope she breaks the cycle, and is free of Ambessa standards. I do not want Riot to make Mel into another Ambessa. I do not want Noxus to taint her.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 24

(Erikír is a Mahi Mahi merman and is best suited to warm climate seas. He doesn't fare well in cold climates or cold waters, hence his dislike for Merfolk who are more adapted to the cold like Azul and the Tweels. Genetically, Erikír is part Human and benefits greatly from that part of him that allows him to get almost anything he wants. Though his Mahi Mahi genes are dominant, he does have a few abyssal sea creatures in his heritage, but shuns these parts of him because he prefers the more Human-like appearance of his Mahi Mahi genes. He has long wished for a Human of his own to wed and adore, to the point he is considered as much of a Humanfucker as Azul is.)

Warnings; longer chapter, Spelldrive Tournament in full swing, poachers, betrayal, Grim and the Human are both in danger several times during chapter, snuggles, calming an unhappy Dragon, conflict of the highest proportion, power difference, public violence, Leona is not a happy camper but he is trying, isolation, suggestive themes, plans and schemes come to light, Azul is a schemer but can be a genuinely good guy, fish conflict, Dragon rage, familiar faces, RSA students choosing sides, overblot, violence, mention of blood and ink, the plot bunny took off sprinting, interference, Nemean Lion, Harpies, Dragon, Vampire Bat, Raiju, Cervitaur, Hellcat, Merfolk, Drider, Bakeneko, Unicorn,

~~~~~~~~

Leona was furious and pouting all at once as you spoke to the Headmage. It was later in the day when he called you and your guards for the week to his office, but what he had to say deeply upset Leona.

The Spelldrive Tournament was going to take place the very next day and the storm had yet to let up. Almost everywhere outside looked like a swamp-land made of mud and most students struggled to get through the tumultuous terrain even for their flying classes with Professor Vargas. There was no way the Spelldrive Tournament could take place while the storm continued to rage.

That brought you to the present where Crowley had given you an order dressed as a suggestion.

"It would be best for you to spend the evening with Diasomnia so we have a chance to dry the arena without further storms."

"Wait, so you're telling me Tsuno has been the cause of this storm for several days?"

"Yes. Mr. Draconia is a Dragon, and as a Dragon he is far more linked to nature and the natural weather cycles. Surely you have noticed how his general mood impacts the world around him?"

"Of course I have, he even told me when he is angry it storms, I just didn't think anyone could keep a storm going for days like this. Not even him."

Crowley nodded, looking back out as several more strikes of green lightning leaped through the dark and swirling clouds. It really was putting Malleus' strength in perspective for you to find out that he could keep such a strong storm going for days on end. You being in Savanaclaw must have deeply messed with his personal comfort, though you were beginning to feel his possessive behavior was more than just the norm for how he protected his Hoard.

"Savanaclaw is the dorm tasked with guarding the little Mousey, you can't just sweep in and tell us the night before the Spelldrive that we have to give her up because that Lizard is in a pissy mood-!"

The lightning now struck the very tower your group was in at least four times, crackling and roaring with thunder. It was far more than just simple coincidence that the lightning followed Leona's crass words towards the Dragon. Even as things calmed, poor Grim was shaking inside your uniform jacket, covering his torn ears with his little paws.

"Leona, the Spelldrive can't happen if the arena is flooded. I'm sorry, but if this is really all because of Tsuno, then I have to go to Diasomnia tonight. Even Vil said it was likely before we had that photoshoot."

Leona's ears angled back at your words, he knew you were right but he didn't like it regardless. Even beyond the fact that he now had to break the news to his team about not having your energizing and filling cooking the night before the Spelldrive Tournament, he had other issues. He simply didn't trust those RSA boys, at least, he didn't trust Erikír.

"Speaking of the photoshoot," Leona growled, now turning back to Crowley, "I take serious issue with that pompous prick Erikír being anywhere near Mousey. I don't give a damn if the Owl trusts that fish-prince, he isn't safe to keep around her."

"Ambrose assures me all three of the chosen guards are sworn to keep her safe from poachers-"

"But what about keeping her safe from them?"

"What do you mean?"

"That fucker tried to hold Mousey and was feeling up her stomach during that stupid photoshoot."

This made Crowley suddenly scowl, his feathers ruffling as his wings rose up dangerously. The relaxed and almost flippant behavior of the Crow Harpy was now gone, replaced by a low cawing hiss from the man.

"... He did what?"

"That fish-dick prince was making Mousey uncomfortable and kept touching on her stomach for almost every picture he was in! Even when Mousey yelled at him for his behavior, he didn't deny it, he just gave excuses!"

A kind of rage seemed to fill the Crow as his feathers bristled and his lip curled in fury. Such a brazenly disrespectful act from someone who should know better than to try and assault the treasured Human was no small crime. Still, it was too late to really change the guards now so close to the Tournament. He would have to ensure to speak with Ambrose about Erikír never getting the chance to be with you alone.

"I will handle it."

"But-!"

"I said I will handle it, Mr. Kingscholar. For now, continue on as you have. (Y/n), my sweet little bird, I will take you to Diasomnia. If anything happens tomorrow to make you uncomfortable- from words said, to physical action taken- you need to tell me or one of the professors. Even if you just get an off feeling from anyone, find one of us or a Housewarden. I will talk with Ambrose about his questionable choice of Mr. Helmsman and we will address his behavior towards you. Mr. Ashengrotto is in charge of most confections and organization of tomorrow, he will be made aware of the situation and I will ensure he keeps an eye on those Royal Sword Academy students tomorrow."

You nodded, casting a glance back at Leona as Crowley gently herded you from the room, leading you to the ever familiar mirror of the Diasomnia dorm. Even inside Diasomnia's realm, the storm only seemed to rage stronger than it did outside on Sage Island. Crowley was quick to cover you with one of his large black wings, ushering you inside the dorm and out of the raging winds.

Thankfully, due to his insulating wing, you weren't too wet from the rain, but the Crow was obviously not pleased and shook out his feathers. The students that had been in the common area looked over as the two of you entered, their curiosity drawing more attention along with hushed whispers. Despite having been in Diasomnia before, you really didn't remember the way to Malleus' room and felt a little lost in the grand halls of the dorm.

You didn't see Malleus among them and slowly reached up to grab your collar, holding the Magestone gifted to you. Malleus did say you could call him for anything and he would answer, so perhaps you would have to call for him now.

"(Y/n)!"

A familiar voice cheered happily and from the rafters fell a familiar leathery-winged Bat. The young-looking Fae seemed thrilled to see you in Diasomnia, his hair fluffed up and his smile wide as he greeted you.

"Here for a visit? You should go see Malleus, he has been a bit out of sorts recently and I'm sure seeing you will put him in an excellent mood."

"Well, that's why I'm here. Apparently, we can't do the Spelldrive Tournament if the field is too wet, so I'm here to see if Tsuno will be willing to call off his storm if I stay the night."

"Wonderful idea! Here, let me go get him-"

A loud boom of thunder shook the stone foundations of the dorm and everyone glanced nervously in what was likely the direction of Malleus' room. The faint click of hooves approaching let you know more students were joining those in the common area. Silver and Sebek came into view shortly following the lull of thunder, both looking worse for wear.

Sebek's head was hanging low and he had an almost sad look on his fierce face, his tail limp and his ears drooping slightly. Silver didn't seem to be in any better of a mood as the two almost looked downcast. Without much decorum or their usual grace, the two approached Lilia with tired eyes and disheartened expressions.

"My Liege won't come out of his room. He refuses to see anyone, just like yesterday. It is not my place to suggest such things, but perhaps we could convince-"

Sebek cut himself off as he saw you standing there, Grim slowly peaking out of your uniform jacket and looking towards the familiar faces curiously. He seemed to almost get a second wind as he stared, mouth somewhat ajar in surprise. Silver was quicker to pick up on his change in attitude, noticing you as well and perking up in a similar way to Sebek.

"M-My Lady (Y/n)," Sebek quickly bowed his head to you, "did something happen in that detestable Lion's dorm-?"

"No, not at all, Sebek. I'm here to spend some time with Malleus."

"Thank the stars! I mean-! His Highness has been pining recently... I have been worried that he has refused to leave his room for several days now, but if he finds out the entire Hoard is here, perhaps he will calm."

You nodded and then realized Lilia had skipped off without anyone realizing, likely heading the direction Silver and Sebek had come. As you turned to Silver to hear what the Reindeer had to say, there was a sudden sound of rumbling that was quite different from the storm outside. It sounded like someone running.

You yelped as you were suddenly swept up into a pair of arms, a familiar black tail winding around you quickly and holding you securely. The chest you were held against was thumping wildly with a frantic heart, a low almost purring noise meeting your ears as the storm outside lulled to silence. There was no need to look and see who it was that held you as you were quite familiar with the arms and tail holding you. Even the wings that wrapped around your figure and hid you from outside view were a familiar color that shined in the low light of the dorm.

"(Y/n)," Malleus hummed, his voice as soft as a whisper, "you're here..."

You smiled somewhat, pulling back to give Grim more room as he purred and bumped his head gently against Malleus' chest. Clearly the Hellcat had missed the Dragon as well, happy to see him again. Grim's behavior towards Malleus made you smile as it was obvious the kit enjoyed the presence of the nocturnal Fae.

"Mama and I missed you, Tsuno!"

Malleus was practically beaming at the happy tone and kind words of the kit, smiling at the both of you affectionately. He even allowed the kit to use his tiny claws, clambering up the front of his Dorm uniform and onto his broad shoulder. The Dragon smiled at the sweet behavior of the kit, ensuring the feline didn't fall as he returned his gaze to you.

"And I have missed my two wayward Hoard members. Now the Hoard is complete once more."

~•§•~

The sun began to crest the horizon, slowly shedding light onto the glistening buildings and fields. With luck, the reprieve from the relentless storm had been enough to somewhat dry the soaked land. Even if it wasn't enough, magic could certainly do the rest.

Shadows retreated from the boarders of the school atop the mountain, hissing as they fled back into the woods. The campus began to buzz with activity as the day of the Spelldrive Tournament had finally arrived. Naturally, most outside of the Diasomnia students didn't expect their dorm to win, but it was still enough of an occasion to stir up the hearts of the students.

With the increasing activity and the low hum of students, everyone began to prepare for the day of activity. What many students hadn't expected was the increased presence of their rival school so early in the day.

Many students from Royal Sword Academy were taking up posts, offering to help the more standoffish Night Raven College students in setting up for the day. The conflict between the two schools was palpable, requiring the intervention of several Housewardens to keep the peace. Even with the presence of the rival school, the excitement in the air was too much for most to ignore.

"I have informed Neige and Artemiyevich that Erikír should not be left alone with young (Y/n) at any point today. Hopefully it will be enough. They also confirmed his behavior towards (Y/n) was out of line."

"He shouldn't be one of her guards today, you know that as well as I. His behavior proves he cannot handle being in the presence of a Human."

"I have faith he will be mindful of his place today, and we will discuss further punishment for his actions."

"Ambrose, he touched her stomach."

"And we will address that after the Spelldrive Tournament. There are too many visiting royals and family members to bring it up now on the cusp of this event. He will be punished, trust me on that, but now is not the time."

Crowley gave another annoyed cawing sound, an almost low croak of a vocalization. Though he wanted that prince punished for daring to perform such a brazen and provocative act, the Headmage understood Ambrose's ambivalent take on the situation. They just needed to get through this Tournament and then scores could be settled.

"Fine. May this day be as uneventful as possible."

~•§•~

You sat in a side room of the arena in an indoor seat, far from the view of cameras and crowds. The window on the far side of the private suite was looking out over the arena where the seven dorms of Night Raven College clashed together in an attempt at winning over the others. Thus far, Savanaclaw and Diasomnia were in the lead and likely to face off in the final round. Despite spending most mornings that week watching the Savanaclaw team play and practice, you still understood very little about how the game was actually played.

The most you could gather from the rounds you had seen was that there had to be seven members on each team and the goal was to take control of the Frisbee like disk and get it to the goalposts on either side of the field. Some of the team was flying on brooms, other members were using their magic to try and protect the disk from the opposing team. It still made very little sense to you, but you were content to watch all the same.

Any time Malleus or Leona took the field, it became readily apparent that they were the crowd favorites as more than a bit of noise was made for them. Clearly, it burned Vil somewhat as he glowered at Leona from the opposite side of the arena as the Harpy's dorm lost to the Lion. Now Diasomnia and Savanaclaw would be facing off in the finals.

If anything, the Tournament really put into perspective how skilled those selected actually were. From the magic they used to take or keep control of the disk, to the ferocity at which they played and moved, you were realizing that you were extremely outmatched against any of these magic users. All it really did was let you know how crucial those like Malleus truly were to your survival. Perhaps, next time you are assigned to a specific dorm, you would call upon Malleus with that Magestone he had gifted you.

He did say 'whenever you need' so surely that truly meant whenever. Even beyond keeping your allies close it would also keep everyone else safe. That storm lasted for days on end, lightning and thunder rolling day and night. Though you had been tucked away safely in Savanaclaw dorm far beyond the reach of the outside weather, you knew the storm had raged at all hours. To think Malleus could keep it going for that long only further proved how outmatched almost everyone was.

Though you were brought into the Hoard unwillingly, your role was becoming clearer by the day. Any living member of a Dragon's Hoard kept that Dragon peaceful. Maybe you had to just periodically visit with him but could still manage to get time away from his almost suffocating embrace.

Luckily Lilia seemed keen to help you in exchange for more time spent with him teaching you ways to soothe the dangerous beast that was Malleus. He had done it for hundreds of years now, he was the master of it thus far. It would behoove you to at least learn how to keep the Dragon calm if only to have more chances to speak with the Human Ghosts.

Time was becoming your primary currency and with all these beasts vying for it, you would have to learn to spend it wisely. If that meant honing you abilities to earn their affections, then you would have to do that and do it subtly. If you could just ask the Ghosts what this aura specifically did and how to control it, maybe you could survive and escape this insanity after all. The stronger the beast, the more you were protected from those that were so keen to get their hands on you.

Beasts like Erikír.

You spoke with Lilia about the misconception that they all seemed to have, vaguely recalling those moments in the past any had touched your stomach. It was a strange and ludicrous falsehood they all seemed to believe was true and it boggled your mind. At least it had prevented most of them from trying to give you belly-rubs. But it still put the Merman's faux pas into perspective.

It also put some of Leona's behavior into perspective. Still, you looked more favorably on Leona for resting on your stomach in the Greenhouse, as Grim had settled there first. Maybe the Lion didn't know or didn't care about these myths surrounding Humans.

Outside of territorial behavior, Grim had been a good judge of character and had hissed at the prince before. Grim also seemed to have a much better opinion of Leona than he did Erikír, lending more credence to a lack of ulterior motive on Leona's part. Even now, Grim kept a wary eye on the Merman who stood to your left, closest to the door.

You wondered why they allowed him to show up if what he did was truly such a disrespect, but you also figured it was because he was skilled in magic and could act as a guard. It wasn't like the RSA students were present for a social visit. Despite that fact, Neige had been a welcome source of distraction and conversation.

"What do you think of the Spelldrive Tournament so far, (Y/n)? It always amazes me how Vil can still look so lovely even while playing a sport."

"I guess that's just how he is. He does make it look flawless. Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah, we went to school together before we both got accepted into mage school. We were always in the same school plays and musicals as the two lead roles. I was usually cast as the hero lead and Vil was cast as the villain. Even then he was amazing at acting and stole the show every time. I always felt so proud of him and a little sad when we had to fight, even if it was just acting."

Neige was a breath of fresh air and honesty, readily telling you all of his stories and sharing every bit of information he could remember. There was a slight warbling coo to his voice as he spoke and the sound caught Grim's attention quickly. The little Hellcat's pupils locked onto the Harpy who continued to speak, his whiskers and tail twitching in fixation.

Of course the Hellcat would like birds.

"We both became young actors and actually got movie roles together too. It always made me smile so much to see Vil was cast as my partner again. Not like a hero partner, but a villain partner. A hero is good and all, but it is the villain that really carries the movie. If you don't have a skilled villain, you don't have a good movie. He hasn't been acting much since he started school here though. I miss him-"

The sweet Dove cut off with a loud cooing call, startled as his wings flared out to the sides when Grim leaped for the boy. It was immediately obvious the kit was harmlessly playing and Neige actually began to laugh as Grim pawed obsessively at his face, trying to get Neige to coo again. You smiled and stood to retrieve Grim, holding your hands out to the kit that was purring and mewling happily against the feathers of the Dove.

As you extended your hand a voice caught your attention and you felt the sudden presence of magic all around you. It hummed in the air musically and glowed a cerulean through the space around you like water. The source of the intrinsically beautiful light coming from over you shoulder near the door.

"Voiceless Song."

The voice cut through the magic with cold determination as almost all sound seemed to be blocked out. Everything except for a softly lulling melody drowned in the wave of magic that took over the room. A hand pulled you away from the other RSA students and Grim, almost throwing you back into the firm chest of the one behind you. The others seemed trapped in some kind of trance by the music as you were pulled out of the room.

A webbed hand flew over your mouth as you writhed in the grasp of the man as the door closed behind you and sound returned. No doubt those in the room were trapped by whatever spell was cast. Similarly, it felt like your voice was suddenly trapped in your throat. Though you were beyond the lasting influence of the room, you were still silenced.

"Shh, we don't want you calling anyone for help now, not when we're so close. Keep quiet while those Fae poachers take care of our exit plan. To think, all it took to make them join my side was the promise of one of our eggs-"

You writhed suddenly in his grasp, teeth clamping down on the flesh with a quick turn of your head. His grasp loosened enough in surprise that you could turn in his hold, curling your fingers so your knuckles met his throat so you cut him off sharply.

His arms fell from their place as he held his throat in shock, but you weren't going to wait around this time. The moment you were loose you took off in the opposite direction, heading to the suite not far from you.

Azul's team had lost early and the dorm leader retired to a nearby reserved suite. He even texted you about his location in case of emergencies and this was absolutely an emergency. In your blind run you felt your silenced throat and lamented the fact you couldn't call Malleus while affected.

The door was already open when you rounded the corner, Azul walking out with Jade and Floyd following close behind. All three looked ready to fight as you ran straight into Floyd, the sturdy Merman catching you and holding you protectively. He was quick to move you so you were behind him and Jade, Azul immediately facing the approaching threat.

Erikír rounded the corner and seemed surprised to find Azul standing in his way. He held his throat and his voice came out hoarsely from your direct attack, no longer the smooth croon he usually had.

"Azul... Of course it's you."

"What happened, Erikír? Her collar pinged."

"It-? Of course. Of course, it was too easy. I should have known. Why didn't I think of that?"

"What are you on about? (Y/n), did he hurt you?"

Azul glanced back at you and you tried to speak and say something to the concerned octopus, but no words came out. His eyes widened at this and he whirled around to face Erikír.

"You did this with your signature spell! I should have known you would pull something like this!"

"No! I would expect you to do something so monstrous. I am looking out for the Human and I am what is best for her. Not you villains! None of you understand the truth, but I do. And even if I need to become a monster, I will prove it to you."

The harsh snapping of bones and ripping of clothes met your ears as the lovely prince standing before you turned into a twisted and wicked looking beast. His mouth ripped and deformed to allow jutting teeth like a deep sea fish, his fins curling and splines ripping away at his clothes. Dark ink pooled beneath his nails as his skin grayed and leeched out his natural colors. The pin on his lapel came loose and formed a long trident in his hands, ink seeming to bleed from the walls and his body.

"Jade, Floyd!"

Both twin Eels drew their weapons, a Leiomano in Floyd's hand an a Harpoon in Jade's hand. The Feral Erikír hissed a shrieking roar as it attacked, Azul pulling you back from the fray and assessing your neck. You tried to let him look but felt worry as the twins clearly seemed to be caught off guard by the strength of the Feral Erikír.

As Azul's hand glowed your throat slowly felt like it was clearing, but it was obvious the octopus needed to join the twins against Erikír. You tried to keep at least one of them between you and the now Feral prince, noticing the way the twins played off of one another even in the fight. Azul seemed to be more on the defense as he blocked the large waves of ink thrown at the four of you. Both twins moved together but even their combination of attacks didn't seem to deter the large Merman who was rampaging.

Azul hissed as one of those inky blobs sliced past his cheek, blue blood seeping down from the injury. Azul took a quick glance at you before his body began to change, his pants ripping from his figure as dark black tentacles burst forward. The juxtaposition between the Trident wielding Octopus and the Trident wielding Feral prince was not lost on you as Azul turned his full attention forward, each tentacle wielding perfect copies of his original weapon.

The beast shrieked again at the increased attacks but you couldn't focus on him as the sound of more footsteps came from behind you. You had hoped it was someone familiar at best, and at worse a member of either school, but those approaching were strangers. Their eyes reminded you of Lilia and Malleus, as did their ears, but they were all staring at you. They didn't wear the uniform of either school so you knew these had to be the Fae poachers Erikír spoke of before you escaped him.

Azul couldn't deal with both threats at once and you held a hand to the Magestone on your neck.

"..."

~•§•~

On the field fought two Housewardens, going neck and neck. Despite the difference in strength, Malleus was willingly holding back. If for nothing more than to give his beloved Human a good show. You had seemed actually excited about watching the game and he wanted to ensure you had a chance to enjoy yourself. Leona took the opportunity with both hands and the scores were tied up. As they prepared to start the game once again, a sudden voice split through Malleus' mind, so filled with fear that flames ingulfed the dragon completely.

"Malleus Draconia!"

Voices screamed out in surprise as the Dragon tore from his tame form and into the scaled hide of his full Draconic figure. Flames leaped from his throat as the beast turned to the beacon of magic that called for his aid, launching himself into the wall of the arena and breaking through the side of the building far too easily. The Dragon clawed into the breach before pulling back, dropping from the wall with a soft figure held in his jaws as he coasted on leathery wings.

Following behind the Dragon was a large burst of black ink, flowing forward towards the Dragon. As he landed, he set the little figure down with the utmost care between his claws. The beast stood with wings spread wide, smoke rolling out of his mouth as the beast hissed towards the approaching darkness.

Screams and gasps escaped the crowd as the clearly Feral Merman leaped out. Within the wall of the arena, it was clear there was a fight taking place inside. Confusion almost reigned before a pair of Harpies flew out from the side of the arena and onto the field. Both Harpies were well known celebrities and it was clear the smaller of the pair was leaning heavily on the other.

The watching Housewardens also joined the field, a lovely Unicorn leaping into the scene with the pink-haired Bakeneko on his back, also seeming worse for wear. A large Drider joining the field with a small winged feline in his arms. Despite the sudden appearance of the clearly Feral mage, several figures joined the inked beast's side against the Dragon. Standing with wide eyed determination, several Fae stood trying to stand against their prince for the promise of their own Human.

"You dare oppose your prince? Flee and I won't hunt you. Stay, and you burn with the Feral."

The Dragon's voice boomed loudly, making several of the opposing Fae flinch sharply from the tone and force. A few even backed away fearfully, turning to flee the intense glare of the scaled beast.

The inky beast didn't care that it faced a Dragon, trying to launch that same dark liquid at the beast who merely shrugged it off, every attack rolling off the scales harmlessly. With a quick whip of his tail, the inky beast was sent spiraling back after every failed attack, screaming in increasing frustration. Forming in the throat of the Dragon was rolling green flames, flickering and rising up in intensity as the great Dragon moved his claws, holding his precious treasure securely and safely. After all, what could truly harm a Dragon?

A sudden burst of white and black feathers exploded onto the arena, both Headmages stepping in the now forming battlefront in an attempt to keep the peace. Any Fae that tried to run was quickly caught by vines that exploded from the field, joined by more until the Fae was overwhelmed by the plants. Shadowed and Snowy feathers danced as combined blasts of magic overwhelmed and forced the Feral Merman down.

Thankfully, the interjection of the Headmage was enough to stay the flame of the Dragon, though it was clear he wanted to scorch the prince. He hissed and slammed his tail in what could only be described as predatorial frustration. The Dragon wanted nothing more than to protect his prized treasure with murderous levels of strength, the Harpies only somewhat soothing his rage.

"Malleus?"

Your voice was small but rang loudly in the Dragon's head, compelling the large beast to look down at where you were curled in his claws. The soft figure of his Human was a soothing one and seemed so much smaller in his claws. It soothed him more than he could describe to know he held his prized treasure securely and safely.

Even one Feral was too many, two? Unacceptable by any stretch.

"I am here, my (Y/n). I'm here."

The scaled beast dropped his head, opening his claws to gaze down contently. He could see no injury on his beloved and it soothed him more than believed possible.

"I care not for this game any longer. My Hoard takes priority. Where is the kit?"

Rook came over with a groggy and still magically impacted Grim. The Dragon allowing the arachnid to place the kit in his claws, back where he belonged with the adored Human. That fish would face consequences and Malleus wanted to be the one to perform it. But that could be handled later, as could the repairs to the arena. Now he needed to enjoy the simple comfort of knowing he got to his adored Human before anyone could hurt her.

All was as it should be.

[farearenaflighttickets]

[radawaycunt]

okayy. so this is my request idea 😍

can i req for him pls, he still mourning his wife however you (acacius' daughter) willing to give him your love, sadly he did not want it or keep you away from him. until you realized that he still in love with his wife so you gave distance. at the end, he wanted you and saved you after your father's death

Thank you for requesting <33

(Note: reader is not Lucilla’s daughter, just Acacius’ from a previous marriage)

——————

It had been a while since you’d last seen him.

You remembered your last encounter painfully well, when he'd turned his face away, unable to bear seeing the earnestness in your eyes. You had poured your heart out to him, but he hadn't been able to accept it. He'd drawn that line firmly in the sand, having to accept the consequences that came with it.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, not really, but his heart was still splintered in a thousand bleeding shards. He was constantly reminded of the one he had loved for years before his return to Rome; The one he had bitterly lost at your father's command back in Numidia.

He never said her name at first — Arishat — until the day you confronted him after the naval battle at the colosseum. He had vowed his revenge against your father for her death, and he could not see past his hatred and mourning to see you. One of the only people who had offered him your genuine friendship, who'd heard countless stories about him from his mother, weaving an image of the strong, good-hearted man that you would one day fall in love with.

That day, the image had been shattered and your heart didn't fare any better. And so, for both of your sakes, you decided to keep your distance.

But then, after your father was arrested and forced to fight Lucius in the arena as a gladiator, things took a drastic turn. At the last moment, when your father had surrendered to him, Lucius decided to spare him, even going so far as to defend his honor.

Still, the Praetorian guard riddled him with arrows, and loss like you had never known had you crying to the skies, cursing the will of the Gods.

After the funeral, you were secluded at home for a nine-day mourning period in which no one else could reach you. Even after that, you refused to see anyone for another two weeks, letting both your heart and the scratches on your face from lamentations heal a little more.

When you felt just strong enough, you decided to throw a small dinner party to honor his life. And once the sun had set, it was none other than Lucius who showed up last, his expression somber. His body language was hesitant, like he wasn't entirely sure he would be welcome.

But when you made eye contact with him from across the room, he felt a little more encouraged to approach you. He offered his condolences and silently stood next to you as you stared at the flickering flames dancing in one of the braziers.

"Your father was a good man," he said. "I've come to realize that a little too late."

"He did what he had to do for the glory of Rome," you said, accepting his words but not denying that he had committed acts of brutality in his time as a commander.

"I have made many mistakes when it comes to you, as well. Please, forgive me."

You looked up at him and realized that despite how hard you had tried not to, you still ached for him. Swallowing thickly, you looked away before any tears could form in your eyes.

"It's all in the past now, Lucius," you murmured. "I bear you no ill will, especially after you showed mercy to my father."

There was a long silence in which the two of you were lost in thought. The two of you had your own burdens to bear, but perhaps they wouldn't be so heavy if the weight was shared. He had realized he did not want to be separated from you, even if it would take some time for the two of you to fully open up again.

He was a patient man and was more than willing to work for it -- to see it through. In time, perhaps two broken hearts would meld each other, stronger than before.

"I should like to be the one to take care of you now," he said, looking at your profile. "If you'll let me."

You stiffened, feeling something akin to hope surge within you. A lump formed in your throat and you let a tear run down your cheek. Unable to find the right words to respond to him, though, you settled for taking his hand.

And it was then he knew that things would be alright.

-------------

[p-artsypants]

An Even Longer Day

Ao3

In the Episode ‘The Longest Day,’ Hiccup returns to the Edge after all his friends have fallen asleep. What if he hadn’t stopped on the Shadowing Island and came home to witness his friends’ insanity?

I changed the Twin’s Sleep deprivation symptoms because I couldn’t grasp what they were actually doing. 

Written for #10yearsofRTTEweek! I used a couple prompts, 'Dragon's Edge' and 'Episode Related' also 'Cuddling' and 'Sleepovers'

---

Hiccup and Toothless approached the Edge with palpable relief. It had been a long flight from Berk and both were ready to relax. 

Relax as much as one could when the sun made it feel like the middle of the day. 

“Let’s go see how the others are faring,” he slipped off Toothless’ back with a weary wobble. “If there isn’t too much chaos, maybe we can catch a nap.” 

That was the trick to the Midnight Sun, Hiccup discovered a long time ago. While most Vikings were active as long as the sun was up, Hiccup had the tendency to stay up working during the night. He’d learned to take naps during calm periods to make up for his late night habits. Now, during the Midnight Sun, he kept his sanity as everyone around him fell into madness. 

Well, he just barely kept his sanity. Naps helped, but it was still impossible to get a full eight hours of sleep when everyone else was doing stuff. Especially as the leader on the Edge. 

He approached the training arena, which was a lot quieter than expected. All of the dragons were there, sitting and relaxing, but no cleaning was going on. 

“Hello? Guys?” Hiccup called. 

“There you are!” Snotlout shouted, stomping out from behind a stack of crates. “You left us all alone! For two days! We’re going crazy here!” 

Hiccup held up his hands. “I knew it was going to be weird, that’s why I just asked you guys to wash your dragons.” 

Like a switch had been flipped, Snotlout’s face crumbled, and he started sobbing. “You’re right! That’s all you asked of us! You were so considerate and here I am, yelling at you!” He hit himself in the forehead. “Stupid! Stupid!” 

“Hey hey!” Hiccup grabbed his wrist. “That’s not necessary. What’s all this about?” 

“The twins said he’s got severe mood swings,” Heather called over. 

He hadn’t seen her initially. She was sitting against one of the support beams, on the floor. She looked like she was soaking wet. 

“Heather? What’s going on?” 

“Sleep deprivation, if the twins can be believed,” she shrugged. “This is the worst year I’ve had. I didn’t know it had a name.” She slowly stood, holding onto the beam. “When I was on my own, I slept in a cave when I got tired. But when I was with my adoptive parents, I was active along with the rest of the village.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it goes,” Hiccup sighed. “‘The sky’s awake, so we’re awake.’” He turned to Snotlout. “You’re fine, Snotlout. I’m not upset.” 

“Upset? I don’t care if you’re upset!” He snapped, only to start crying a second later. “Who am I kidding? I hate getting on your bad side!” He flung his arms around Hiccup and cried into his shoulder. 

“Uh…” Hiccup froze in shock, then he patted Snotlout on the back. “There there?” He started walking towards Heather, Snotlout still clinging to him. “You look like you haven’t lost your sanity though. Unless you’re also about to burst into tears?” 

“My sanity? No. But I did lose something else.” She took a step toward him, and lost her balance. 

Hiccup shot out his free arm and caught her by the elbow. “Whoa!” 

“Yeah.” She used his arm to slowly lower herself back down to the ground. “Every time I take a step, the world itself just…” she gestured with her arms, a violent titling action. “You know?” 

“Ah, yeah. I’ve had that happen after a nasty bump on the head. You just…you just sit there. I don’t want you to fall.” He worked on prying the still crying Snotlout off of him. “Where’s everyone else?” 

“Fishy’s back there,” Snotlout sniffed, pointing at a stack of barrels and crates. Now that he was looking, it appeared very fort-like. “He’s not being very friendly.” 

“Fool! You’ve revealed my position!” Fishlegs hissed, poking up from behind a barrel. “No matter, the Gronkle and I are well fortified! The one-legged one will have no chance of stealing our secrets!” 

“Uh…” Hiccup began, genuinely flummoxed. 

“Paranoid,” Heather supplied. 

“Ah. Gotcha.” He could work with that. Paranoia could be funneled in a productive way, if he just played his cards right. 

Right now, on his lack of sleep, he was playing with a very small hand of cards. Mostly just the card ‘because I said so’. 

Then he heard Ruffnut and Tuffnut talking. They were coming around the corner from the clubhouse. 

“Exquisite hypothesis, my dear sister. I do wonder what implications this will yield.” 

“Quite certainly, they will reveal a grandeur chicken hut, with sloping connections to collect eggs in a more timely and orderly fashion. I predict this will revolutionize the chicken and egg industry as a whole!” 

They appeared at the edge of the arena, Tuffnut with a chicken under each arm, and Ruffnut with Hiccup’s astrolabe in hand. 

“Hey!” Hiccup went for the stolen tool. “Careful with that! It’s expensive!” 

“Oh ho, dear Hiccup! I thought ‘twas you we heard beckoning! How goes your trip to the motherland?” 

Hiccup rubbed the bridge of his nose as he translated what they were saying. “Uh, Berk? Yeah, it was good. Everything is as crazy as usual.” He finally got the astrolabe away from Ruff. “What were you doing with this?” 

“Purely a scientific musing. An experiment if you will.” 

“An experiment,” he said flatly. 

“That is correct, my tall, auburn-haired friend!” said Tuff. “An experiment to measure the safe falling distance of a freshly laid egg. We’re out to maximize production!” 

Hiccup just gave a weak laugh. “Okay, sure.” This seemed like the least chaotic of the Twins asinine ideas. “You have my full support. But this is for measuring the sun, moon, and stars. It’s not going to help with your egg experiment.” 

“We must have grabbed the wrong instrument!” Ruffnut fretted, hand to forehead. 

“We, sister? I believe ‘twas you who snatched the device! I was under the belief it was the alembic we needed!” 

“That’s not going to help you either,” Hiccup sighed. “An alembic is used for making medicine. Just–just give me a second to think and I’ll get you something that you can use.” 

“Think? Ha! It appears the thinker has thought his last thought while those of us who do not think are thinking more thoughts!” 

“What?” 

Hiccup was distracted from that incomprehensible sentence by Fishlegs snatching the Astrolabe from his hand and darting back to his fort. “It’s mine! Now he can’t use the moon to get my secrets!” 

Hiccup rubbed his temples this time, a headache coming on. He groaned. “This is not the kind of chaos I was expecting. If I had more brain power, I could handle it.” 

“At least nothing’s on fire,” Heather said, in an effort to comfort. “This is harmless chaos.” 

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed. 

He looked over the group. Heather still sat on the ground, slowly petting Windshear. Snotlout was sitting close by, crying about how unfair it was that she couldn’t walk. The Twins were a few feet further, weighing the chickens in their hands and using words like ‘circumference’ and ‘defenestrate’. And then Fishlegs was just barely visible in his fort, but that was enough for Hiccup. 

All accounted for but–

“Hey, where’s Astrid?” 

The assembled all just shrugged.  

Well that wasn’t good. Stormfly was sitting by Hookfang and Barf and Belch, looking rather bored. So maybe Astrid was fine. Maybe she was still sane and taking a nap, or getting real work done. 

“Astrid?” He called. “Astrid!” 

“Is that my Hiccup!?” A girlish voice squealed from up above. It almost sounded like Astrid, but he’d never heard her hit that pitch before. 

“Astrid?” 

From the cliffs, Astrid leapt from where she had been climbing, and landed on the roof of the arena with a bang. Then she called down, “catch me!” 

“What?!” 

And she jumped again, arms and legs out like a starfish. 

Hiccup didn’t so much catch her as he did break her fall. “Oof!” He wheezed as she landed on him, hard. “Augghhh…” 

“There’s my Hiccy Picky Dicky Poo!” Astrid cooed. 

“Are you crazy?!” He barked, sitting up slightly. Astrid sat on his stomach, grinning like an idiot. 

“Crazy in love!” She sang. Then she dove at him, grabbing his face and placing the hottest, wettest, fiercest kiss on his lips he’d ever had. She hummed in euphoria, even parting his lips with her tongue. 

Hiccup whimpered. 

“Oh dear,” Heather chuckled. 

“Why doesn’t she kiss anyone else like that?!” Snotlout sobbed. 

“It must be a secret code!” Fishlegs hissed. “A code shared through tongue! They’re talking about me!” 

“How much saliva do you think is being exchanged at this moment?” Asked Ruff. “How would we measure such a thing?” 

“First, I believe we time how long it lasts. We are currently at twenty-three seconds…twenty-four…twenty-five…”

Astrid pulled away with a smack, but stayed laying on top of Hiccup, her hands resting on his chest. “I missed you, Hiccy Poo!” 

“Uh~...” Hiccup moaned, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of sensations he felt. Shock, awe, pleasure, and annoyance, all mixing together to create a headache-soup. “Uh…remind me to make more trips to Berk if that’s how you’re going to welcome me back.” Slowly, he pushed up, dislodging Astrid from her perch. She quickly got to her feet and pulled him up too, hugging him tightly. 

“Oh you’re such a Silly Billy, Hiccup! I. Love. You. So. Much!” Each word was emphasized with her swinging him around in her arms. 

“Great! Could you love me with less muscle?” 

She let go with a giggle, twirling her hair. 

Finally, he straightened up. He stretched his back, already feeling the ache from being used as a fall cushion. Everyone was accounted for, all the dragons were peacefully sitting around. 

“What now?” 

“Oh oh oh!” Astrid danced. “We should make out!” 

Hiccup jolted, a bright blush coloring his face. “Oh uh…um…wh-what would that do? Exactly?” 

She wrapped her arms around his arm. “It would be fun! And it would feel good! We should feel good! And relax! We haven’t relaxed in a looooooong time!” 

“I mean you’re not wrong…about the relaxing thing! Things have been pretty tense…” But maybe Astrid was on to something. Nothing good would come of keeping the riders awake. They needed sleep. Now. “We just need a dark place.” 

 Barf and Belch, normally the least intelligent of the dragons, wandered over towards them and opened the storage hatch in the floor. It led to the caverns beneath the arena which were cool and dark. 

“Oh! Great idea, guys!” 

Now just to convince everyone else to get inside…

“Astrid, honey?” He cooed, playing her game. 

She beamed at him with eager, bright eyes. “Uh huh?”

“Could you do me a little favor and gather all the blankets and pillows you can find?” 

She gasped in glee. “Are we making a nest!? Are we going to snuggle?! I love snuggling! It’s so warm and soft and feels so good!” 

“Yep, we’re going to build a nest and we’re all going to sleep.” 

“Like a sleepover?! I love sleepovers!” 

“Y-yeah! A sleepover!”

“That sounds so fun! Can I touch your butt?” 

“U-uh…what?” He blinked. “I guess?” 

Gleefully, she reached around and slapped his butt, before skipping off to do her task. 

Hiccup rubbed the spot, unsurprised that she was still strong in her sleep deprived state. He just wished she had a little more control. 

Now, there were the others. 

“Fishlegs–” 

“No, I’m not sharing!” 

“I was just going to mention…you have a lot of secrets in your hut, right? Maybe we should make sure everyone here stays in the arena.” 

Fishlegs gasped in horror. “You’re right! No! I mean—where is Astrid going then?!” 

Hiccup raised his hands to sooth him. “She’s just getting some pillows and blankets. She’s not interested in your secrets.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s what you say…” He started walking towards the exit. 

“But! U-uh! What about your secrets here? You can’t leave them unguarded, can you? And there’s more of us in here!” 

With horror, Fishlegs dove back into his fort. “My secrets!” 

Heather chuckled from the ground. “You’re doing great, Hiccup. Really.” 

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes. He knelt at the edge of the storage space. There was a ledge that led to a drop off. That could be dangerous. But hopefully the darkness would make them sleepy quickly enough that it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Astrid returned, arms laden with pillows and blankets, and furs draped over her shoulders. “Looky looky what I found!” 

“Hey, that’s great!” 

She giggled at his praise. “Where do you want them?” 

“Can you drop them in here?” He gestured to the hatch. 

She dumped her load inside and then popped up on her toes. “I’m going to find more! Make the nest super duper snuggly!” She skipped up to him and rubbed her nose against his. “Don’t stop being a cutie-patootie while I’m gone!” 

“Uh…I won’t?” He gave a hapless laugh. 

She waved with her fingers before zipping off again. 

“I’ll start laying them out if you help me down,” Heather offered. “As long as I stay on my knees, I think I’ll be okay.” 

Hiccup held her arms and walked her over to the hatch, then he lowered her down, Toothless hanging onto his armor as he leaned over the side. 

“Why do you get all the lady attention? First getting snogged by Astrid, and now you’re holding hands with Heather!?” Snotlout griped, before turning to pathetic whining. “It’s so not fair!” 

“Do you want to go down and help Heather lay out the furs? I know she’d appreciate it.” 

Snotlout shuffled his feet. “But what if she doesn’t like the way I do it? What if she gets annoyed with me? Are you annoyed with me? Do you hate me?” 

I’m starting to get annoyed, Hiccup thought. “No Snotlout, I don’t hate you.” 

“But–” 

Hookfang took initiative and butted Snotlout in the back, knocking him over and into the hole. 

Hiccup winced, hearing Snotlout land with an ‘oof’ but Heather didn’t make a sound. 

He peered over the edge, just to check. Heather had laid out half of the furs before passing out completely. Snotlout was slowly finishing the rest, but it looked like he was just barely hanging onto wakefulness. 

Good. 

Astrid and the twins would be relatively easy to coax into the cavern, but Fishlegs was a wild card. He had to be very manipulative. “Fishlegs, I think Heather may be sharing some of your secrets with Snotlout.” 

“Nice try, oh ‘great leader’ but I won’t be tricked so easily into abandoning my post!” 

Hiccup sighed. “Yeah, I got nothing. Meatlug?” 

Eagerly, Meatlug scooped Fishlegs up off his feet and hovered over to drop him in. “No! No no! Gronkle! You traitor! You fiend!” 

Hiccup observed from above as Fishlegs landed on the furs and turned to curse the sky. “You’ve betrayed me for the last time, Hiccup Haddock! When I get out of here, I’ll-I’ll…I’ll…zzzzz…” And he was out like a light. 

Three to go. 

“Ruff? Tuff? I just remembered, I was storing my discombobulator down here. I bet you could use that in your experiment.” 

“Verily?” 

“In veritas?” 

“Yep! It’s down there somewhere…but you should leave the chickens up here.” 

Tuff let them go to fall, instead of gently setting them down. “Consider it done, my chief to be.” He saluted. “For now, we descend into the darkness!” 

“Thusly, we make haste into which no light travels!” Ruffnut echoed. 

The twins lowered themselves down with a bit more care and started shuffling around in the dark. It wasn’t long before movement slowed and they both drifted off, Ruffnut using Fishlegs’ stomach as a pillow and Tuffnut spooning Snotlout’s legs.    

Hiccup sighed in relief. That just left Astrid. 

And there she was, hurrying back with another armload of blankets and pillows. “I think I found all of them on the Edge!” She dropped all but one in the hole. “This one’s yours!” She purred, nuzzling her face into the fabric. 

He blushed, embarrassed but flattered. “Thanks Astrid. You did good. Now let’s get down there.” He held her hand and helped her lower down into the hole, and then followed a moment later. The light from above let him see where everyone was, and he began covering everyone with blankets and placing their heads on pillows and making sure everyone was as comfortable as possible. The space was a little cramped, so everyone was touching and a little overlapped, but that was okay. 

He settled down by Astrid, Heather’s legs on one side of him, with Tuffnut’s back next to Astrid. Astrid clambered onto Hiccup, clinging like a Changewing, before she started kissing him again. 

As painful as it was, Hiccup gently pushed her away. “Now now, this is sleeping and snuggling time. We can do that later, if you want.” 

She pouted for a second, then shuffled down to lay against his chest and wrap her arms and legs around him. “Oh I love how warm and snuggly you are!” 

He chuckled. “G-good! Good…just uh…just remember that in the morning, when you’re not sleep deprived anymore.” He threw the blanket over them and yawned. 

From above, Toothless let out a little croon as he looked down the hatch. 

“Sorry bud,” Hiccup yawned again. “Not enough room for you.” 

This didn’t seem to bother Toothless as he chattered at the group, then closed the door with his nose, casting them into pitch blackness. 

Astrid’s grasp relaxed as her breathing slowed. She was off to sleep. 

Before Hiccup could think about it too much, he snuggled right back into Astrid’s hold and kissed her hair. 

—

He awoke to Snotlout letting out a long, loud groan. “Ooowww my back! It feels like I slept on a rock!” 

“Because you did,” Hiccup grunted, not opening his eyes. 

Astrid tensed at his side, but didn’t move. 

“Where are we?” Fishlegs asked, groggily. 

“In the storage area under the arena.” 

“Oh yeah,” said Ruff. “I remember. I thought that was a dream.” 

“Nope,” Hiccup yawned. “You all went crazy and I had to wrangle you down here to sleep. Feel free to leave, but I’m exhausted. I’m staying.” 

“Eh, me too,” said Snotlout, turning over. “Who’s on my legs?” 

Tuff didn’t wake, just squeezed tighter and muttered, “no my teddy.” 

Things fell quiet again, as no one got up to leave. It was the perfect temperature, finally dark, and while the rock underneath wasn’t the most comfortable, the furs made it tolerable. 

Hiccup moved his arm off of Astrid. He asked softly, “do you want to…?” 

She was still for a moment, thinking it over. “Did I kiss you?” She whispered. 

“Yeah.” 

“Like…a lot?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Did it bother you?” 

“N-no, not really. Um…it was nice.” 

“Mmm,” she hummed, her fingers picking at his tunic. “You don’t…mind if I–if we…stay like this? For a little while.” 

He rested his arm back over her, running his hand up and down her arm. “I don’t mind at all.” 

“Hey,” Snotlout whisper-shouted. “If you’re gonna talk, go somewhere else!” 

“Shut up, Snotlout, let them flirt,” Heather growled. 

Hiccup chuckled quietly, just a little shaking of the shoulders. He gathered Astrid closer in his arms and rested his head on top of hers. “For the record, I love you too.” 

Astrid groaned. “Ugh, I really did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Yep!” said the tired chorus of dragon riders.

[blorbo-arena]

Steve Blueclue wins round 1 against Captain Picard in a landslide victory! Will he fare as well against the 10th Doctor himself, however? Or will we see Ms. Blue turn out to be a Badwolf?

Share for larger audience! ⚡

[eaterofdust]

Toothless: comparison and art study

There is something to be said for the Toothless's of the non-book HTTYD with each being different from each other. The Animated Toothless is iconic in it's design, a cat-like predator which takes only one look for the viewer to know that he is fast. The Live Action Toothless is still cat-like, and yet... too human-ish, like the eyes of HTTYD2 Hookfang. It is the unholy offspring of HTTYD3 Toothless and baby Godzilla. The Live Arena is spikier and bulkier, with a more reptilian and classical dragon appearance and yet is recognisable all the same.

Action Toothless is most bland in colours, with an incredibly unrealistic nearly pure black hue and lack of patterns. The Animated version fares better, with a faint blue hue (which is lacking in these images but real all the same) and patterns across his back and wings. Finally, the Arena Toothless. He has pink around his maw and toes, and though lacking in patterns continues the blue hue.

Interestingly, both Arena and Action Toothless lack the exaggerated scales on their ear plates, instead having a more striped texture like a horn of some sort.

Neck wise, Action Toothless is the outlier, an 'S' curve to it whereas the other two- while still having a mammalian posture- are far more reptilian in their slant. For all three, they have exaggerated scales around the spines that begin only around the shoulder area.

For faces, Animated Toothless is certainly the most complex, a flat shape that slips into a slope at the bridge of the nose and a (mind you, flexible) beak shape at the end of the nostril. His spines begin at the "front" of his eye corners and ends at the end of them (please note the third eyebrow is also error, to which I apologize greatly). Arena Toothless has a rounded flat shape, bulging out at the bridge of the nose, and having a far more exaggerated shape and yet removing the beak element to it. He has the primary row of head spikes, starting from the start of the bridge of his nose and ending at his ear-plates. His secondary row of spines, hardest to see, starts at the front of his eyes and ends at the end of his slight head indent. The third row of spines start at the beginning slant of his brows and ends at his primary ear-plates. Action Toothless also loses the slight beak, instead having the shape but with lips. He has the least flat head and the most visible brows. His spikes begin between his eyes and ends at his first ear-plates. Action Toothless is the only of the free to have more than 4 protrusions to each side of his head.

There is little to be said on head shape: Animated is somewhere between a U and a V depending on expression, vaguely snake-like; Action is a lot blunter and thicker, with more defined cheekbones and having a narrower top. The Arena is merely speculative, but likely is a oval of some kind with the same general shape.

It's fairly obvious that Action Toothless is attempting to appear less dangerous and much cuter. Such a head shape is poor for his aerodynamics, as his original head shape gave him the arrow/jet-like physics, but this lesser head shape will result only in creating more drag for the dragon who's main (if only) hunting tactic is to dive at speeds to break the sound barrier.

Posture has previously been discussed for necks, but in terms of body shape they all follow the trend of a larger chest and thinner lower body (Do not ask what happened to Animated's tail. Please.) Arena has the thickest and shortest tail, held in a dinosaur position. His wings are small, curved with fin-like secondary wings. Action Toothless has a more sloped back, and a tail consistently held low to the ground. His wings are smallest, secondary wings mimicking that of the third movie with how they are nearly folded. Animated Toothless (only from the first movie as GOTNF does use a separate model) has the longest, thinnest tail that is usually either in contact from the ground or held up. His wings and secondary wings overlap each other slightly, with the thickest connecting skin to the body.

Looking closer at the wings of the Toothlessi, it's perhaps equally surprising as not that the Animated's are the most realistic*. All the wings have connecting tissue between wing arms, creating a near flat point until fingers begin to diverge. Arena Toothless has a bulky shoulder joint, and two claws that disrupt the general shape. He has 4 wing fingers, at least 2 of which seems to be fairly straight, and a wavy texture to his webbing. Action Toothless has an oddly thin forearm, 5 wing fingers (which is most realistic as they are fingers- something that Hookfang's design tried to mimic but failed) with the primary being far, far shorter than the secondary, making his wings also appear significantly smaller than they truly are. Said wing fingers are also thick, though not pictured here. The Animated Toothless has 6 fingers, the primary being longest and surprisingly thick arms!

*Fun Fact: The Live Arena Plush has his wings and is actually capable of gliding! It is quite enjoyable.

All Toothless designs contain heavy scale coverage of both front and back legs, and spikes to the front. Interestingly, the Animated Toothless is the only one to be plantigrade rather than digitigrade, as well as appearing to have a slight webbing to his joint though this is equally as likely to be a meshing error. Both Action and Arena go for sharp claws atop paws rather than the flexible and dulled claw of the animated toothless, and thick plating to his rear legs. Both Arena and Animated appear to be stockier than the Live Action, which has lankier, thinner legs.

There is little else to be said between designs. For Hookfang, I brought my own most pressing issue, but Toothless? There is nothing to be said for his head has already been examined.

The only real difference between Animated and Arena Hiccup is their shirt, otherwise a ditto. Action Hiccup differs in that he wears two shirts (see multiple sleeves), lacks a boob window and has a hood. Oh wait, no, the fur of his boots is also a different colour. With such a variation to the designs, it would simply take too long to compare everything and so I shall end on this:

Arena Toothless leans into being a powerful dragon, Animated Toothless leans into being elegant and the Action Toothless was bred into domestication over the time of Vikings to now.

There is such a lack of difference between the Hiccups there is nothing to be said- which seemingly most of the other teens do not follow in.

[peariote]

MIND MEDDLING ⚠

based on two different asks. tw: mind manipulation, memory wiping. 2.3k words.

Blankness. You can hear your friends panicking around you, about the gaps and the holes in their memories—the ones reflected in your own mind. 

Yet, you don’t jump up. You don’t yell. You don’t heave. You don’t do anything but stare at the barren white wall.

That familiar feeling reaches you as you search your mind. Now-unattainable memories, fraying at the seams and falling from your recollection like sand from open palms. Unlike your friends, you’ve experienced this before.

Your spine stiffens with panic. A single, strained breath leaves, strangled by your clenched jaw. The memories—the ones still held by you—come, whether you want them or not.

It’d happened years ago—you were just a freshman, bright-eyed and determined as you walked up the steps of Godolkin University with the rest of your peers. The one place where you could be a Supe and not be feared. Have, even exercise your powers without being thrown out. 

It didn’t occur to you to be fearful. To avoid others’ powers like your family did with yours. It was an accident—she didn’t mean it, they'd said.

It doesn’t change the fact that you’re missing weeks due to one Cate Dunlap. Just because you tried to help. To be a hero. Isn't that what you were there to be?

The first day of Field Training was bound to be competitive. Instagram followers and saving cats from trees was all well and good, but to be pitted against their peers? Most first-years hadn’t fought another super-powered individual before.

The stress settled over the entire arena, a stifling place despite the open ceiling. Filling the seating were many higher ranked upperclassmen—come to see who to watch out for and who they could poach.

Your classmates were circling like vultures. Every gaze snapped over others, trying to pick out weak links. Thankfully, your reputation stood for itself. No one would be messing with you. At least not today.

Who they did latch onto? A blonde, looking so small despite her gangly limbs. Big eyes and a withdrawn demeanor don't graft to intimidation very well.

The tension ticks up. A big guy, complete with the douche smirk, lumbers over to her.

"Let's go. Gotta start the show somehow, hm?" He towers over her, casts a shadow over her form. His hand snaps out to her wrist, thick fingers wrapping tight around the joint.

The flinch she gives is pitiful. She's never going to survive in this program. It's a sentiment seemingly mirrored by the others, as they linger and and stalk around the growing conflict.

She yanks her hand from his tight grip, his sliding clutch dragging the glove from her palm. He goes to regrip, dropping the leather. The girl's face flashes with terror—

All there is is screaming. The large boy falls to the ground, clutching his head. The blonde doesn't fare much better, holding her own wrist in a vice and looking like she's about to collapse with panic. You rush over, reaching out to touch her out of pure, adrenaline-fueled instinct—

You wake up in a hospital bed. You're laid on your back, the heart monitor beeping slowly. It picks up as you look around. There are flowers on your bedside, looking fresh and stiff.

A nurse rushes in, her words rushing around you like a gust of wind.

"Hey, can you tell me what day it is?" She hums, settling at your bedside. Her hand falls to your wrist, as if she's comforting a frightened child—a rather confusing reaction, considering you feel fine.

"It's the fourth. Of August."

It seems that was the wrong answer. The nurse tries to hide the way her expression sours, but she can't repress the furrow between her brows. Eyes search your expression and her voice slows down. Lowers, as if to placate you.

"No... no, it's the twenty-sixth."

What?

That doesn't make sense. It was the fourth, you'd know it. You checked so many times, making sure this day was truly the day. Orientation at your dream school.

"It's... it's orientation day, though. How'd I end up here?"

The furthered questioning only seems to worsen her expression. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot her fingers dropping—pressing into the pager at her hip. Who's she calling now?

"No, honey." She speaks gently, an almost cloying sweetness coating the slow words. "Orientation day was three weeks ago. Today was your first combat practice. You had a little accident."

The world spun, your memories after that hazy. There were doctors, a rotating door of them who came in and talked and prodded and cooed. The nurse, promising you'd be okay and bringing you dinner. Still, you had no answers. You didn't know what happened, and no one would tell you.

Looking back, knowing the truth and with your memories partially restored, it should have been suspicious. The whole of the school medical staff, covering for one seemingly unimportant, weak blonde? Yet, getting back to your life was more important. Cramming and re-learning those integral lessons the second time took up all your time. There was hardly any time for relaxation, much less metaphysical contemplations about how you got here and what caused such a sudden bout of amnesia.

Thankfully, you'd gotten your answers—weeks later, during a routine trip to the library. You'd only just sat down when someone you recognized, someone that pulled at your mind sat next to you, fidgeting with her gloved hands.

"Hey, I'm... really, really sorry about what happened. I appreciate you trying to step in, and I didn't mean to do anything to hurt you." It's a good apology, all things considered. If you knew what she was apologizing for.

"...what are you talking about."

Maybe you should've been less curt. But sue you, you're running on four hours of sleep and this is your third study session in two days. It's getting rough, especially with midterms only being a week away.

Her already-big eyes go wide at your blunt, yet low murmur.

“The… incident. At the first combat day. I was the one who… hurt you. Are you hurt?”

What?

You weren’t hurt. You suffered no injuries—not even a hit to the head. The amnesia didn’t make sense, but now it’s seeming like—

“…did you take my memories?” Your voice curls incredulously in the air, almost too loud for the library. Thankfully, it’s almost empty; your outburst only draws a few eyes.

“W-what? Your memories? What happened to your memories?” Her expression fills with a sickening panic. The look on her face betrays that she knows something.

What was her power again? What was her name, even? You’re drawing a blank at every turn—mind fogging with a headache-inducing haze.

Somewhere, through the fog, something drifts through. A name. Cate. C. Dunlap. Set the row over from yours on the class list, with a printed, unassuming couple words next to them.

Mind manipulation.

Why that sparked, where it came from was uncertain, but it told you all you needed to know: she did this to you.

“You took my memories. I lost weeks because of you.” You hiss quietly, maintaining an appropriate volume this time. Still, your words permeate the silence. The girl—Cate looks so small, so frightened in the seat next to you. Yet, the lack of sleep and the cramming and the panic you felt all culminated into a roaring, silently brewing anger. “And you’re trying to apologize?”

Amidst her sputters, you rise suddenly—the wooden chair scraping against the tile. Clumsy hands collect your things, scoop up your laptop in your bag. You’re just so angry, that this one girl could take so much from you. Take not health nor safety but time.

You had to get away from her. Panicked, you turn to her.

“Just—don’t talk to me. We don��t need to talk about this. Ever.”

And she didn't. She didn't approach you, didn't say a word. It got easier when she switched out of the program, but seeing her on your friend's arm was just, if not more as jarring. Her entanglement with Luke opened her back to your view periodically, as if her changing self spun on a zoetrope.

You caught glimpses of her, sometimes weeks apart and sometimes multiple times a day. She shifted; that scared, shivering blonde was replaced, smugness and confidence emerging. Her pride seemed to spark from every pore: pride in herself, in her power, and in her boyfriend.

The Golden Couple was a title that eclipsed The Girl Who Sent the Now-Sixth Ranked Kid To the Hospital in a Freak Accident. It rolls off the tongue better, you admit.

You'd just orbited around her for years. Not paying her any attention during outings, disregarding her presence entirely. It's like along with those weeks she'd wiped the ability to see her, your eyes skimming off as if she didn't exist.

Frankly, you don't see how you missed the familiar feeling. Perhaps because the blanks were smaller, maybe she got sneakier. Or because of the absolute shit that was happening, and all the chaos that follows Supes, growing and spreading like cancer. To Marie, and Emma, to Andre, and Jordan and Cate. Still, she had gotten you—just as she had gotten your friends. You thought she was affected the most by this? No, it all spilled from her. She was the cancer, the wolf in your midst. 

And you were right all along. She is a fucking monster. 

When she returns your memories, you still can’t look at her. Years of your eyes glancing off of her does not falter when she’s right in front of you, shaking and teary. You cannot look into her face, and so you close your eyes. They’re heavy, your eyelids, as if every piece of you urges you to get away. Her fingers press to your temples, achingly delicate in their tremors, and yet you still flinch. 

You think you hear some terrible whimper—a gutting sound, were it not so quiet. Your careful ears almost miss it against the rush of loud, loud memories. It’s not like before, no gentle, slow return, like the unraveling of a flower or something just as sweet. That felt natural and triumphant, that every pain that seared your skull in remembrance attempts was worth it.

This is a tsunami—a battering against your skull that rattles everything soft in it. Your eyes open at the strain, perhaps hoping that it might allow some pressure to escape. 

Her eyes are a gleaming, sparkling blue, filmed over by tears. She presses her lips together as you finally meet her eyes again, and a sound dies in her throat. You always seem to be in pain when you look at her. From the wide set of them, and perhaps it’s because she’s sharing a little more than just your memories, you can tell she’s never hated anything more. 

You’re not sure when she gets you. When she manages to totally burrow in your head, convince you that she’s the right answer. Your teeth are grinding as you half-listen, watching as the Woods’ subjects stare at Cate like the second coming of Christ; you, stood at her shoulder like a guardian, mirrored Sam. She makes a man eat his own hands, no remorse in those blood-filled eyes, and still you can’t forget those desperate, teary ones that had accompanied Indira’s visit. To be inside her own head for once was enlightening, seeing what had made her so… desperate. So hungry that she was willing to harm everyone she loved because someone told her it was right. 

You catch her at the door, then, hand wrapping around her wrist. She’s drawn back from the crowd, still pliable as a thin willow. It’s surprising for a second; after watching her being so strong, she’s still delicate. She’s still the younger Cate you saw in her mind—the one you’re trying desperately not to like. 

“Cate. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” She defaults to anger, snapping as her bloodied eyes narrow. The ring around her irises is a recent addition—you’ve never gotten close enough to think to pay attention, but you don’t think she’s ever used her powers this much before.

“Because you’re hurting people, Cate. Like you did to me.” You’re soothing in response. Resentment simmers, as it always does, but it’s receded—a tsunami returning to the sea. It’s a protective thing burning in your chest. It hurts to push it down, but still you do. As helpful as it’s been, it’s not needed now. Not as her breath hitches.

“Don’t bring that up. You said we’d never need to talk about it.” The anger has melted into desperation—her eyes softening with the change. The blood swirls slightly, oscillating behind the surface that gleams with sudden tears. Still the same. 

“You’ll hurt people the same way you did to me, but worse this time. You lost your brother. Do you want to be responsible for others feeling that, too?” 

“Fuck you.” She sobs, her breath catching. She attempts to twist out of your grip, and growls at the resistance she finds. The other Supes, they’re not far—you’re sure if she screamed they’d come running, and you’d be out before you could even react. Yet she doesn’t. 

“Stop it, Cate. You can. I know you can. This doesn’t need to happen.” Your calmness has turned into soft urgings, hearing how the others’ hesitant footsteps are getting further and further away. This needs to stop before they get outside.

Unexpectedly, she sags against your chest. Her shoulders are still stiff, set tightly enough to make the position awkward. Your other arm instinctively rises to cup her waist, and she shudders. 

“...okay.” You sag into her at the murmured word, lax as tension melts from your shoulders. You both stand, delicate as a house of cards, in that terrible, LED-lit hallway—but still, there’s hope.

[tanadrin]

RE "revolutionary leftists are revolutionary because they know they can't win electorally."

It astounds me a little that there are leftists who think that a communist revolution is more likely to work than, like, fifty years of community-building and electoral politics. Sewer socialism, union activism, and other boring activities have brought much more success in the U.S. than agitation for a revolution.

What I mean is, setting aside the moral concerns (violence is bad, even when it's necessary, and if there are practical alternatives then we should pursue them), I am not a revolutionary leftist because I think we would lose a revolution. For one thing, there is a considerable right-wing element in the country that is much better prepared for this kind of thing, and I think that the majority of the institutions in the U.S. would pick fascism over communism if they had to choose, but also, prolonged violent action is ripe for breeding authoritarianism.

Goatse is concerned that "the party" might "abandon or neglect its primary ends," but what is leftism if it is not, at bottom, an attempt to improve the living conditions of all people, et cetera et cetera? To the extent that social democratic parties successfully pursue this end to some degree, they're better than than an ostensible communist party that talks the talk but commits human rights abuses. And, more than the fact that U.S. leftism has some pretty fierce opposition that would probably fare better if The Revolution happened tomorrow, I think that, even in winning, we would lose, because what came out the other end would look a lot more like Stalinism.

I think one thing the hardcore revolutionaries in OECD countries don't realize is that the reason they can't marshal support for their revolutions is that the socialists won most of the issues that were salient in the early 20th century--workers got more rights, better pay, unions were legalized, etc., etc. But it didn't take restructuring the whole political economy to do it, which is immensely frustrating if you believe that any society without your ideal political economy is inherently immoral and impure, so in order to justify an explicitly communist platform you have to rhetorically isolate it from the filthy libs and feckless demsocs who it turns out have been pretty effective within the arena of electoral politics in which supposedly nothing can ever get done, and treat them as of a piece with the out-and-out fascists and royalist autocrats of the 1920s and 30s.

Which, you know. Is not persuasive to most people! Most people understand intuitively the vast gulf between the SPD and the Nazis; they see that, milquetoast and compromising though they may be, the center-left can deliver substantive policy improvements without the upheaval of a civil war or political purges, and this is attractive to people who are not of a millenarian or left-authoritarian personality.

Which isn't to say that communists don't often make important points! It sucks having to fight a constant rearguard action against the interests of capital rolling back the social improvements of the 20th century, and it sucks that liberal governments in Europe and North America have historically been quite happy to bankroll and logistically support fascists and tyrants in the third world against communist movements (which invariably only exist as communist movements because these same fascists and tyrants have crushed more compromising movements and only the most militant organizations have managed to survive).

But I agree with you: communists also talk a big game about how liberalism is the real fascism (what's that line from Disco Elysium I see quoted everywhere about how everybody is secretly a fascist except the other communists, who are liberals?), while also being awful at democracy. Suppressing dissent because your small clique of political elites is the only legitimate expression of the people's will (which you know, because you have declared it to be so) really is some rank bullshit. A system with competitive elections is still, well, a system with competitive elections, even if those elections are structurally biased in certain ways; all the bloviating that attempts to justify communist authoritarianism cannot really obscure the fact that authoritarian systems are cruel and brittle, regardless of the ideology being served.

[kittydragondraws]

YES!

murder drones tumblr, what if yall gave me your MD AUs - specifically whater character is the protag in them - and I throww them into the hunger games :)

[yumelatte]

let's try it (dying for love) together - chapter one

call it fate, call it karma

In which Lighter meets you in his underground fighting days and develops long-lasting feelings for you; you don't fare much better.

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chapter 1: call it fate, call it karma | next chapter ->

The ceiling fan spun slowly in the tiny space called a “room.” A singular window was cracked wide open, drab yellow curtains billowing from the wind. Outside, cars could be heard honking and engines running—people making their way home in the early evening. Despite being evening, the air was sweltering with heat. Those people in their cars probably couldn’t feel it—what with the air conditioning and whatever. 

Lighter felt the heat, no matter what he did, it was always there. There, like how he was still here. Here, as in he was still alive—still alive in this world with barely any reason to survive. He clenched his fists, thinking about what he lost. He usually doesn't think about it these days, but things were getting rougher lately.

How it could have been with his whole family still around. If only Dane, Nick, and Ratena were still alive… then he wouldn’t be living like this… if only he could have died with them… He thought about death for so long—even going as far as to yearn for it. 

Lighter let out a breath that he didn’t even know that he was holding, hands shaking in his lap. No, it wouldn’t have been better if he died. At least with him alive, Dane’s sister and his late companions’ families were supported; all he had to do was live with guilt and regret.

Hurried footsteps were heard outside the motel room and Lighter stood up from the poor excuse of a mattress that he had made his bed. He knew the routine now; it was the same every time. 

Making his way to the entrance to his room, he opened the door. 

Two men dressed in white-collared shirts, fancy blazers, and black slacks greeted him. Lighter nodded at them and the bigger of the two men started making his way towards a black van in the parking lot, making sure his shorter companion and he were following behind. Not like Lighter had a choice in the matter—being in debt tended to be that way. 

It was time to work to pay off the debt.

He felt like a zombie ever since stepping into the underground fighting ring—like he was operating lifelessly. Throwing punch after punch, destroying multiple punching bags with his newfound strength, knocking down opponents one after another. Underneath the bright lights of the dome, Lighter has left a mountain of bodies in his wake. It wasn’t enough; he needed to win more. The more he won, the more money he got. More and more to cover the debt that was suffocating him under its weight. He didn’t care that his opponents all fell with a loud bang or suffered serious injuries from his punches. He didn’t care that he also gained scars from the fighting. Anything for the money. Anything for the families of his family. Anything to distract himself from the guilt of being the one to cause their deaths. Anything to keep his mind off the regret of not being able to die with them. 

He fought and won for the money and the consequence—the Ember Arena’s new famous fighter—him—Lighter Lorenz. 

It was rare, but Lighter did lose. He wasn’t at his best during those times. He reasoned that winning isn't everything here. When he lost, he noticed some people exchanging money behind his back. 

But after the winning matches—some fighters tried to talk to him. Fighters, who he didn’t beat up that badly, wanted to know what his secret was. How did he keep his confidence? How does he get up after being knocked down? How does he find the motive to keep going? 

Only Lighter knew the reason why for those questions. He caught himself clutching his dog tags now and then. He never entertained them, always ignoring them—never making eye contact. He was scared to look anyone in the eyes because of his fear of what he would see staring back at him. He had been at this for so long that he felt like was losing himself. How much longer can he bury his burdens like this? He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

His next opponent was named Vincent Young, a rookie fighter who didn’t look like he belonged in here. Vincent was shorter than him (not by much) and had a scrawnier build, too. Not too scrawny, but more lean if anything. What were they thinking? He was not going to put up much of a fight; Lighter would be done with him in 3 minutes—tops. 

The bell rang and the match began. Lighter immediately rushed in for the kill—and to his surprise, Vincent quickly dodged out of the way. Lighter didn’t falter as he aimed another jab at Vincent’s side, but that too, was evaded. Lighter repositioned himself for another blow to the face, and Vincent positioned himself to move away from it. The crowd was going crazy, judging from the increased uproar in his ears. A shrill voice had called out Vincent’s name. Lighter was getting pissed and he rarely felt mad anymore. What was this guy’s problem? Just take the hit and fall, so he can just take the victory and get the money and get out of here for the day. Lighter took the time when they were circling one another with arms up to re-evaluate his strategy. This guy, Vincent, wasn’t going for offensive moves. Lighter realized that he was only on the defensive. Lighter bit his lip in frustration, recognizing that Vincent was making him use up all his energy. When Lighter was all out of energy, Vincent would go in for the final hit and claim victory. He couldn’t let that happen. He needed the money more than him—he swore it. 

Lighter was caught off guard when Vincent jabbed his face; he just barely managed to dodge it. That brief moment of shock let Lighter catch a glimpse of his opponent’s determination. In Vincent’s eyes, he could see the same flame that he had when he looked in the break room’s mirror. Smirking, Lighter understood that Vincent also had a reason to be there. Whatever that reason was, Lighter had a better reason. 

It was on. 

Vincent had put up a fight and managed to keep the crowd’s interest, but in the end, Lighter was victorious. The referee was holding up his arm, announcing his win. The loser, Vincent, passed out on the floor. Lighter could hear the crowd cheering loudly for his victory and Vincent’s loss. In his peripheral vision, he watched Vincent. He had painted himself as unapproachable because he feared what he had become. He had refused to interact with anyone—he didn’t know why he felt the need to apologize to Vincent. He had never felt remorse for an opponent before. 

Lighter’s gaze removed itself from the ground to fix on the audience. Among the excited crowd, he found an anomaly. There, he saw you. You—with your hands covering half your face—eyes wide. You weren’t shouting his name like everyone else. You were focused on the loser, his opponent, Vincent. And now he knew why he felt the urge to talk to his opponent. 

He blinked and you were gone. 

The bright lights of the arena and media kept flashing in his sights, and he lost you from it.

Lighter waited behind the building—a rare sight. He usually left with the men who escorted him from the motel to the arena, but tonight was different. They had questioned him rather impatiently, asking why he had decided to stay when he would just leave right away. Lighter gave a flimsy excuse: he needed to train more; he wanted more time with the punching bag. They accepted it because they had noticed that the earlier fight was a bit sloppy. They left him alone for now, but they will be back soon. 

The door squeaked as it opened. 

Out came Vincent, all bruised and beaten up. At least from what can be seen on his face. He had worn a bomber jacket, so the visible injuries that Lighter had caused were hidden. 

Vincent flinched, noticing Lighter. 

A fair reaction, all things considered. Before Lighter could speak, he was interrupted by a familiar voice who he thought he had heard from the crowd before. 

“Didn’t you cause enough harm already?” 

Lighter swore that if he was wishing for death at that moment, he would be getting it from the look you were giving him. You had placed yourself between him and Vincent—glaring up at him with all your might. Lighter would have been scared if you weren’t so tiny. You barely reached the top of his chest. 

Lighter held up his hands, trying to prove that he was harmless, “I had to. I needed the money.” Good reasoning, dumbass. Lighter groaned internally, maybe he should have elaborated further, but he wasn’t ready for that just yet. 

You were too busy sizing him up to come up with an answer; however, Vincent provided one, “No har-” he looked down at the girl in front of him, “Some harm done.” Vincent shook his head and waved his hand to diffuse the situation, “I get it. We’re all in here for a reason.” He said your name while looking at you, “Me and him? We’re fine, okay? You don’t need to defend me.” Vincent’s left hand found a place on the back of his neck. “Man, this is embarrassing. My little sister is trying to protect me when it should be the other way around…”

Lighter held in a laugh, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. It had been so long since he felt like laughing. 

You blew a loose strand of hair away from your face with your arms knitted together—scorching gaze still fixed on him, and Lighter couldn’t help but compare you to a kitten with her claws out. 

Finally, you looked away from him and turned your attention to Vincent. Lighter felt like he could breathe without your glare. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, he guessed. 

Oh, he was supposed to apologize… but… 

He watched as you fussed over your brother and he was suddenly transported to a time where he was the one being worried about. He knew what it felt like to be in your brother’s shoes. The difference now was that you were there for Vincent, but there was no one for Lighter. 

He was unable to say anything to you or Vincent. Maybe he was wasting his time. What good was an apology when the deed was already done? There was nothing he could have changed about it. He was the one who won and claimed the prize. He didn’t feel like a zombie for the first time in forever. He didn’t feel empty; he just felt sad. 

“Hey!” You were trying to get his attention, snapping your fingers at him. Lighter lowered his gaze towards you. “I’ll be rooting for your downfall, Mister Champion.” He was unable to respond to your animosity. 

You turned away from him, pushing your brother in the opposite direction of Lighter, shouting loud enough for him to hear, “I don’t care how handsome you are. I hope someone knocks you down a peg by smashing your face in!” 

And hearing that while watching you and Vincent leave, all Lighter could do was laugh, unable to hold it back any longer.

After that, he noticed you came around to the ring more, only on days when your brother was here, though. It made sense. You were always cheering for your older brother, but cursing him. He reveled in your curses though. Thoughts of you cursing him out amused him to no end. He relayed to your brother as much in the break room. 

“I don’t think she’ll ever forgive you for hurting me.” Vincent sighed deeply, “Good thing we haven’t been pitted against each other again or else I’m scared she might actually get into the ring herself…” He downed a whole bottle of water. “Sometimes I forget I’m the older one here. I raised her myself, you know.” Vincent pondered for a second, “...Our parents weren’t really around for us, so I had to do everything.” 

Lighter was speechless. Wow. That was a… bit much to reveal when they literally just started talking. A finger made his way to scratch his cheek, “Sorry to hear about that.” 

“I need the money, too.” 

Lighter turned his head towards Vincent, wondering what he was implying. “I-”

“I know you need it as well.” Vincent’s eyes were focused on the ceiling, hand squeezing the poor empty water bottle. “It’s a fucked up situation. My parents left us in debt and I’m doing,” he patted the bench they were on, “ this to help pay it off.” 

“...Yeah, me too.” Lighter saw that they were in the same situation, albeit some things were different. “Sorry, for last time.” 

“I don’t really care that you hurt me, to be honest.” 

Maybe Lighter should just apologize to his sister—he had a feeling she cared more than Vincent did, but he didn’t say anything and let the guy continue. 

Vincent set the water bottle beside him. “I knew the risks of joining the ring… I just want her to stop working her new convenience store job. Sure, it’s helping with the debt, but I can’t protect her from bad things happening. The area is terrifying… I’m scared something would happen to her when I’m not there.”

Lighter understood. He had the same fear when his mercenary gang left for the hollow without him and look how that turned out.

As Lighter exited the arena’s building, you stopped him in his tracks. 

“Here,” Your arm was outstretched towards him, and in your hand, was a pink bento box. 

Lighter blinked once, twice before saying, “For me?” 

“Yes, now take it before I regret it,” you huffed, hand reaching into your little cat-patterned tote bag and even providing him an option of chopsticks or fork. 

“What for?” Lighter accepted your bento box and took the fork, but he was suspicious. 

Your cheeks were flushed and Lighter enjoyed the sight more than he thought. 

“For being my brother’s friend,” you replied, head ducking down while rummaging through your bag again. Your hand reappeared in front of him with his favorite beverage. “If you died of starvation, he would be left alone with only me, and I like seeing him have a friend, so thanks.” You were matching his gaze with your head tilted up at him. 

Lighter couldn’t deny your gifts when it was somewhat close to the truth. He had been living frugally because of the debt and he was too tired after matches to get food. He wondered where you got it though because as he recalled, you were also in debt. “Where did you get this?” 

“I work at a convenience store, remember?” you said, pridefully. “I know Vincent doesn’t want me to work there, but it’s been benefiting us lately.” You smiled at him, lips upturned and eyes crinkled. “Can be you, too.” 

In that moment, Lighter was struck with the realization that you looked goddamn angelic when you wanted to—pretty even. 

He was curious if you remembered when you told him that you wanted his handsome face to be smashed in.

The meals that you have been bringing him every day have been helping him keep up his morale. He also liked seeing you warm up to him. You stopped coming to his matches to curse him; instead, you started to cheer him on. Lighter could hear the same shrill voice from the first time calling out his name. Hearing you rooting for him, was music to his ears. If he was strong before, he was unstoppable after you. And it took his mind off what he lost, even for moments at a time. He was grateful to you and Vincent. 

Speaking of Vincent, Lighter had a feeling his friend had a suspicion because, after one of his matches (one where he could clearly hear you because you were THAT close to the ring), his friend pulled him aside to talk to him. You were running late in meeting up with them, so it was convenient. 

“Can’t help but notice my sister’s been encouraging you a lot lately.” Vincent was leaning against the building wall, arms crossed, eyes focused on the sunset.  

Lighter glanced at his friend, pursing his lips. “Yeah?” What was he supposed to say? He thought you told your brother everything. He didn’t know the reason why you changed your mind about him.

“Yeah, I think she likes you…” 

Damn, he didn’t have to sound so disappointed. 

Lighter groaned, sliding a hand down his face. “Is it a bad thing?” It wasn’t a bad thing, was it? He was surprised you even started acting friendly with him as you certainly made it seem like he was irredeemable with first impressions. He liked that you were friends with him now. It certainly made his days better. 

Propping his fist against his chin, Vincent hummed. “...No, I guess not. I guess I kind of saw it coming because when my sister and I were alone, she would gush over how handsome you were.” He snickered, “Even when we first met.” 

Huh? 

Lighter’s face must have shown his confusion because Vincent’s body was heaving with laughter, “C’mon, don’t tell me you didn’t realize why she insisted on coming around?” 

No, he really didn’t. 

“Well, she was around mostly for me, at first.” Vincent turned his head to look at Lighter. “Then, she saw you.” Vincent shook his head—like he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “She told me it was love at first sight.” 

Lighter couldn’t resist the upward turn of the corners of his mouth. …You fell for him just like that? Was it that easy for you? 

“Then, we were fighting against each other,” Vincent clenched his teeth at the memory. “Of course, she was cheering for me… but she wanted to cheer for you too.” 

Lighter felt sorry for Vincent—he could only imagine how betrayed Vincent was—he was also strangely elated by the fact. 

“I was kind of glad that you won the way that you did because then my sister was on my team again. She despised you after that, but it didn’t really last long.” Vincent let out a snort, “It didn’t help that we became friends, too.” 

“So…?” Lighter wanted to know where Vincent was going with this. Why was he telling all this to him? 

“She likes you. You like her. One plus one equals two. You know what I’m getting at, don’t you?” 

A small figure appeared against the setting sun, waving at Vincent and Lighter. 

Ah. 

Lighter’s hand made its way to the back of his neck, staring in the same direction his friend was. He could see you heading over to them, plastic bags hanging off your arms. You were cute—absolutely adorable, he might add. Caring, beautiful, feisty. You were all those things and with the more time you spent with him, it wasn’t wrong to say that he liked you. …Yet, he couldn’t help but hold back. You were so full of fire—so full of life when he was yearning for death. …However, these days, he wasn’t thinking about dying too much. The guilt was still there, naturally—but he wasn’t lifeless anymore. 

“What were you two talking about?” you asked your brother and Lighter. 

Vincent and Lighter shared a knowing look; Lighter waved his hand, dismissing the question. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” 

A fleeting wary look crossed your face, but it was gone before Lighter could register it. “...If you guys are done talking, here’s today’s haul…” You wasted no time in handing out their dinner, food and drink included. 

Lighter decided there were more things to live for—like you and his budding friendship with Vincent—but mostly you.

There were whispers of a legendary boxing champion coming to the arena; it was just luck that Lighter was the one who would be challenging him. The stakes were high with 10 million dennies on the line. If Lighter could get his hands on those dennies, he would finally be able to pay off the debt he had been shouldering. 

In the break room, Lighter was hunched over on the bench, feeling the anxiety digging its way into his system. 10 million dennies—his opponent was between him and his freedom. If he loses… his head shakes from side to side—he doesn't even want to think about it. He needed something to ease his thoughts, halfway into taking a cigarette out of the box before crushing the cardboard. Lighter gritted his teeth—No, Nick wouldn’t approve. He was better than this. Instead of putting the cancer stick into his mouth, he popped a lemon candy in. The yellow treat calmed his nerves as he gathered his courage. He could do this—he rarely lost—he was the best fighter in the Ember Arena. Nothing would change that—not even this “legendary boxing champion.” 

Getting up from the wooden plank, Lighter braced himself as he exited the room. 

He got this. 

As he entered the ring, he could hear the crowd calling his name. His eyes scanned the area—instantly spotting what he was looking for. You were right next to the ring with your brother; the only thing separating them from him was the metal chain link cage. You had your hands cupped around your mouth with your eyes fixed on him as you were shouting his name along with the roaring spectators. Vincent had noticed Lighter looking at the pair of them and gave him a thumbs up. 

Lighter’s attention was back on his challenger, a bigger bald man with a heftier build. He had two black rings on each side of his shoulders. Lighter was determined to win this—he needed to. 

The match began when the bell rang. Lighter launched himself at his opponent, right fist making contact with his foe’s bulky arms. He didn’t have time to react when he was smacked in the face with one strong swing from his challenger—gravity pulling him down to the floor. The taste of iron was bitter and tangy on his tongue and his head never felt so heavy before. With him down, Lighter heard the bell ring again. He couldn’t do anything but stare up ahead—bright lights glaring down at him. His eyes were stinging from the brightness. Fuck, everything hurt. Was this how it ended? Is this the end of his reign? With his fading senses, he heard his name being chanted. He fought the pain to peer at the audience—taking every breath like it was his last. He saw some people looking at him and he heard them telling him to get up. He blinked; in his vision, he saw his late family: Ratena, Dane, Nick, and even sweet old Hunter. They were there for him—cheering him on even in the afterlife. His eyes flickered to the side, seeing you. The expression you were making seemed so familiar. You—with your hands covering half your face—eyes wide—gaping at him. He remembered—you were watching your brother in horror as he was passed out in the ring. He was the cause of that painful look—now—that same expression was for him. He let out a chuckle with what little strength he had before shutting his eyes. Everything was in pain, and he just wanted to quit. 

“Lighter! Lighter, get up, you can do it! I believe in you!” your desperate voice rang in his ears, “Please, you have to get up! You exclaimed from the top of your lungs, “Lighter!!!” 

Lighter inhaled, consumed by thoughts of you. Fuck, you were so sweet. He didn’t want to hear you shout his name like that. Not in this situation, at least. He needed to do what you said—get up. The counter was ticking with every second. He didn’t have much time. 

He needed to get up. 

Now. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

Lighter opened his eyes with vigor, ignoring the pain from his body, and quickly defied gravity by getting upright. He saw his foe egging the crowd on—getting them to cheer for him instead of Lighter. Lighter wouldn’t have that; Lighter got into formation to knock the guy down—striking him on his stomach while he was distracted. The guy, realizing that Lighter stood up, retaliated with a punch of his own, but Lighter was quick as lightning, dodging the hit and returning one of his own. His opponent flew back slightly, but ultimately, met Lighter head-on—or more precisely—fist-on. Seeing the bigger guy swinging at him again, Lighter braced himself as he also put his full force into the next punch, lunging at him with all his strength.

It paid off. 

His fist made contact with his foe’s face—paying him back tenfold from earlier. 

The bigger guy fell with a great thud on the floor. 

1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 4 seconds—till 10 seconds. 

Distinct rings of a bell. 

He won, evidently by the way the referee was holding up his arm. Lighter scanned the crowd again and saw you jumping up and down—hands in the air, eyes on him with his name leaving from your lips continuously. 

He did it.

Lighter tried to leave the arena as soon as possible, still in his boxing shorts—with his jacket hanging over his left shoulder. More bright lights than just the ones hanging overhead flashed at him. Lighter closed his eyes, turning away to avoid the cameras. He got the money; now, he just needed to see you. 

You were waiting for him by the same building door from all those other times. The only difference from the other times was that he didn’t have time to put on his jacket, so he was still shirtless—all his scars and muscles were out on display. He also noticed your brother wasn’t there with you. 

When you saw him, he could see your mouth open to speak, “Hey-” you swallowed, suddenly averting your eyes from him and cutting yourself off. 

Lighter ducked into your sight, getting your attention again. “Not even going to congratulate me?” he teased. 

“Put on your jacket. Y-you’re distracting me!” You turned your head away from him, hand waving frantically in the air. 

Lighter shrugged, “What’s the difference? You see me shirtless all the time in the ring.” He tried to get in your line of sight once more. 

It was of no use—you were a master at avoidance. You were also really cute, acting like this just from him being without a shirt. 

“It’s not the same… In the ring, you’re far away from me. Here…” He could see you sneaking glances his way before fully returning your eyes away from him, “...I can see everything...” 

“Everything, huh…?” Lighter wondered what you thought about his scars. Did you think they were ugly? You probably hated them because of that. He slipped his arms into the soft material of his jacket—zipping it up to appease you and because he was feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “You can look at me now. I’m all jacket now.” 

A giggle left you as you finally looked up at him. “Congrats on the win!” 

Lighter crossed his arms, flashing his teeth. “Thanks, really means a lot, coming from you.” 

“Now that you've won all those dennies, are you going to leave?” Such anticipation coming from you. Did you want him to stay?

Lighter thought about it; he would be free from debt by winning that fight, but truthfully, he was probably going to take out another loan to support his late family’s families more. 

He shook his head, “No,” he paused, wondering if he should continue. He decided to, “...I have people to support, so I will still be around.” 

“Am I a bad person?” 

Lighter’s eyes widened in shock. Your question came out of the blue. Why would you think that? You were the furthest thing from a bad person. 

You continued, hand preoccupied with your hair. “I was just thinking of how happy I am because of what you said. Ah! Not about the debt! But when you said you’ll still be around…” He could see you trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“You’re cute.” 

“What?!” You rose to your full height, giving him your full attention. 

Oops, it slipped out… Might as well roll with it.

“Yeah, you’re cute for being happy that I’ll still be here.” Lighter tried to give you a way out. “It’s like you actually enjoy my company or something.” 

“I do.” You didn’t hesitate with your answer. “And I’m sorry when we first met. I didn’t mean what I said about someone smashing your face in. And when it did happen today, I actually felt like my heart stopped. I don’t want to see you hurt like that ever again.” 

Lighter was helpless in the fact that he was moving before he could even think; he reached out for your form and embraced you—his chest supporting your head and hands. He looked down at you, seeing you flustered with your face in his upper torso. Your voice was shaky, “I’m s-sorry…” You resisted the tears behind your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, returning his hug. 

The evening skies were painted with shades of orange and red—shades of purple and pink blending in with the blues. Birds flying high in the sky—heading to who knows where. People walking by—minding their businesses—on the sidewalks. The world was still turning, but as Lighter and you stood like this—with you in his arms, he felt like this was all he needed. 

A car drove by, white lights blinding him. He released a groan as he adjusted his eyes away from the brightness. 

“What’s wrong?” Your head lifted with lips in a fine line, eyes scanning over his face.  

Lighter returned your gaze, rubbing his right eye. “I think that guy really got me. My eyes hurt just from looking at bright lights.” 

Silence, then—

“Meet me here again tomorrow.” 

“When have I not?” Lighter thought that request was ridiculous because you have always waited for him. Something bothered him. “Where’s your brother?” 

“...In a match…” 

Lighter’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he felt the heat creeping up his neck. “...And you’re here with me…” 

“...Mhm…” you hummed, agreeing with him—head buried in his chest. 

Lighter felt like he was going to lose his mind because of you.

Just like you said, you were there the day after—in the same spot. Again, without your brother. 

Gesturing Lighter to come closer to you with your right hand, you were hiding something behind your back with your other hand. “Come here.” 

He obeyed you, getting in front of you dubiously. “What?”

“Bend down a little,” you complained without venom, “You’re too tall!”

He complied with your request as he heard, “And close your eyes.” 

His vision was filled with blackness and his mind filled with curiosity. 

Before he had to think too long, he felt two fine, cold pieces of metal sliding between his head, to his ears as he felt something perching on his nose. 

“Okay, open your eyes!” 

Lighter’s first thought was that the world got darker and that the sun disappeared among the clouds; however, he eventually realized that you had slid on him a pair of fine sunglasses. The metal felt foreign on his face and he could barely see the gold rims outlining the lenses. 

“What do you think?” 

Once again, he didn’t have time to think before he said, “I think I love you.” 

“You—” Your hands made contact with his chest as you stared up at him, cheeks flushing a wonderful shade. 

“Can you tell me you don’t feel the same way?” Lighter couldn’t handle it—he needed to tell you how he felt. No more holding back; you fought your way into a corner of his heart like he fought through life. Before you, he didn’t even know he could feel such intense emotions. He was a zombie—just going through the motions of living—empty and lifeless—doing everything he could just to survive without much thought. Losing his group damaged him badly. He didn’t think he could ever recover from it. But now—he didn’t think he could live without you. He didn’t want to lose you like he did with his teammates. “You’re also having a hard time with money and you went out of your way to get me,” pointing at the shades resting on his face before moving them to his hair, “ these ?” 

His confession caught you off guard, and you weren’t ready with a response. “I—” 

Lighter watched your face with great interest. He could see the million thoughts that ran through your head just from your expressions alone. 

“I do.” You couldn’t hide the fact that you felt something for him. “...I l-love you, too…” Your stuttering was pronounced in your confession. You weren’t ready for this, but you had been feeling this way for a while. You just didn’t want to admit it—you were scared of ruining what you had with him. 

He was also scared of ruining what he had with you, but he was scared of losing you more. He wanted to kiss you so bad—to show you how he was feeling—but you beat him to it. 

Feeling light pressure on his shoes, Lighter sent a glance down which showed that your shoes were on them. You were trying to match his height, but he was still out of reach. He felt your hands pull him closer by the material of his jacket and your face was getting closer and he was forced into your proximity and the last thing he registered before losing his mind was—he tasted grapes. The pressure on his lips was caused by your own—and it was making him greedy. You started to pull away when Lighter placed both hands on your face and craned it upwards again to meet your mouth again. Slipping his tongue out, he was met with the resistance of your lips. Feeling something unexpectedly wet, you opened your mouth in shock. Lighter took advantage of that moment to acquaint his tongue with yours. He dominated your mouth with his, and you were feeling lightheaded—if you didn’t get away soon, you were sure he would devour you. You faltered on his feet from dizziness, but he caught you—keeping you upright against his body with his lips still attached to yours. You tried to speak, but Lighter wanted more of your taste—you had no choice when he kept you quiet like this. 

Lighter didn’t allow you to break the kiss, but he realized he needed to breathe. Him needing to breathe made him think that you also needed a breath too. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you—a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you. His lips were parted—as were yours. Your gaze was half-lidded, staring at him like he had put the stars up in the sky for you. Lighter licked his lips—savoring the taste of your lip balm. Grape has become his new favorite flavor. 

You couldn’t think straight in his space—you needed space. Moving away from him, you covered your face with both hands, trying to will the blood in your cheeks to disappear. 

Lighter watched in amusement as you turned away from him in an attempt to keep your face hidden. He watched as you tried to gather your thoughts. He fought the urge to bring you back to him because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. To his surprise, you approached him and fisted his jacket’s material again to pull him down again to give him a little peck on his right cheek. “I’ll see you later.” With that, your back was within his view. 

As you left, Lighter touched his cheek and smiled.

When he exited the building, Lighter was expecting you to be there waiting for him; however, you were nowhere to be seen—neither was Vincent. 

A boar thiren was standing by the usual place. He was dressed in a black leather jacket with a turquoise bandana around his neck—he didn’t look like he belonged in this city. 

He greeted Lighter and introduced himself as Big Daddy from the Outer Ring. The thiren told him that he saw him in the newspapers as a high-profile fighter—one that rarely lost. He was looking for someone to protect his gang and Lighter was the perfect candidate. Lighter was hesitant because that would mean giving up on seeing you, among other things. Protecting his gang—did that mean just winning fights for the hell of it? Winning without seeing you? He didn’t think he could do it—didn’t want to lose you or Vincent—two people who stuck by him through these tough times. 

Big Daddy mentioned that he could pay off his new debt in full and the offer became very tempting, but troubling. How did he know about that? Lighter was defensive in asking how he knew about that. Big Daddy just said that he was perceptive—rarely losing as a fighter in the underground fighting pit meant more money—more money meant more funds—but to Big Daddy, Lighter didn’t strike him as the material type. Lighter couldn’t argue with that. What should he do…

He could accept this offer and then tell you the next time he saw you. Lighter told Big Daddy that he would do it, but he had something important to do first. Big Daddy nodded and they exchanged a handshake.

Lighter came to this spot for the next few days at the usual time he left the arena, but you never came back.