#by far one of the best free skates

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Sub!armin x reader collegeau

(PLEASE BABES IM BEGGNG YOUUUU🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾)

For Free

Tags: Sub!Armin x Fem!Reader, college!au, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, virgin!armin, overstimulation, light choking, vaginal sex, face riding, a small side of eremika,

Synopsis: Virgin!Armin doesn’t know how to get his dick wet :)

An: I’d love to start writing more for AOT if anyone else has any reqs they wanna see me flesh out <3 I don’t write sub men that often, so I hope this was satisfactory. Also, can we be so fr rn? Men who are nerdy and have nerdy interests are sooooo 🤭

"So, as I was saying. The artic also produces icebergs, so hypothetically speaking, if we could cut down on pollution and light pollution, we could have a slim shot of repairing-"

"Armin, I am begging you. Please shut the fuck up and eat your food." Eren annoyingly snaps at him while rolling his eyes. He was currently stabbing at his portion of chicken aggressively with his fork.

"I was listening to him. Don't be an ass." You retort while elbowing Eren in his side. Your eyes then fixate back on Armin. "You're saying that we potentially could repair the artic to an extent?" You prompt for him to go on his little tangent about the artic and ocean.

If someone asked you why you were so interested, you'd make up some lie about how you're writing a paper on the effects of pollution and global warming. In reality, you actually just loved listening to your cute blonde friend spill his heart out about his hyper fixations.

Your eyes glass over as Armin goes back to explaining to you the intricacies of the environment and global warming. Your mind wanders to how he’d look if you just got on your knees for him and gave him the best head of his life. You could almost bet that he’d be the type to whimper.

“You need to get laid like it’s detrimental at this point.” Eren grumbles while shaking his head. “You quite literally are putting off an energy that scares away the hoes.”

“And what hoes are you trying to attract?” Mikasa asks as she finally settles in next to Eren. She was running late to lunch after helping Historia out carrying somethings to the teacher’s lounge.

“None-! But if I were, Armin would scare them away.” Eren replies, and you notice how his hand snaked underneath the table towards Mikasa’s thigh.

“Stop being such an ass. He’s just passionate about something. No one treated you like shit when you went through your little skating phase.” You speak up once again, getting real sick of Eren’s pissy attitude.

“It’s okay, yn. We can talk about this later.” Armin finally speaks up, giving you a small defeated smile that crushes your soul. Underneath the table, you gently bump your foot against his foot.

His face doesn’t show it, but his heart flutters in his chest as he bumps his foot back against yours. It’s such a small act of affection, but it’s your guy’s way of just checking in with each other. Essentially, it was a way to silently say, “I’m here for you.”

“Armin, you’re still a virgin, aren’t you?” Eren asks as he takes an aggressive bite from his food.

Your foot ever so gently slides up Armin’s leg, making his breath hitch in his throat. His face flushes a bright red as he avoids everyone’s gaze.

“I don’t know why that matters.” He mutters quietly, not liking where Eren was going with this.

“I’m taking that as a yes then.” Eren continues. “Any reason in particular why you haven’t slept with anyone yet?”

Your eyes focus on Armin’s face as you’re curious as well. Armin isn’t ugly. He’s sweet, smart, and incredibly patient. Girls have approached him in the past, but he always just opts to keep them at arms length.

“I just..” Your foot gently presses into his inner thigh, seeing how far he’d let you take this. Armin immediately coughs as if trying to hide his reaction to your blatant flirting. “… haven’t found the right one.. I guess.”

“The right one? Armin, you need to just get it out of the way. I’ll literally pay someone to sleep with you.” Eren half-laughs, which means he’s probably only half-joking.

“That’s prostitution, Eren, and it’s illegal.” Armin replies with a small frown, not liking that his best friend is quite literally offering to pay for his virginity to be taken.

“I’d do it for free.” You casually offer with a small shrug. Armin’s eyes go wide as he stares at you from across the table, and Eren chokes on his soda. Mikasa just has a calm smile on her face as she watches this all go down.

“Of course you would. You’re practically riding his dick all the time anyways.” Eren retorts after he gains his composure back.

“Yep, you’re right. Now, I’m going to go do it for real too.” You respond as you stand from your chair. Your hand reaches over and grabs Armin’s hand before leading him out of the mess hall.

His hand is trembling in yours, and he can’t find the words to say right now. His heart is beating so loudly that he almost can’t hear. The only thing on his mind was that you’re finally noticing him.

Armin turned down the girls who tried to flirt with him because he has his eyes set on you. He’s had the fattest crush on you since you met their little friend group in college.

Not knowing how to handle his feelings, he had once confided in Eren and Mikasa. Both of them said it was stupid obvious that you liked him back, but he refused to believe it. How could a girl as pretty and confident as you like him??

You let out an exasperated sigh as you shut your dorm door behind you, locking it so no one else can bother you too. Armin’s entire face is red, and he’s fumbling with his fingers.

“You don’t have to be so nervous. You know I was kidding, right?” You softly laugh at him while taking your shoes off. You then crawl up onto your bed and settle down. “I just was tired of listening to Eren, and I figured you needed a break too…”

Armin can’t help the way his demeanor subtly drops. He feels so naive for thinking you were actually going to take his virginity. You probably detested the thought of doing so- He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before he also sits down on your bed.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” He mumbles quietly, and he keeps his gaze away from you.

You quickly pick up on his change in attitude. He almost seems… disappointed? Your eyes lock for a moment, and you observe his pretty blue eyes looking back into yours. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Don't tell me you're disappointed." You lightly joke, lips curling into a smile as you gently nudge him.

Armin lets out a soft exhale of amusement, and he clams up for a moment. "Well.. I.. can't say that I wasn't a little bit excited." He admits sheepishly.

"Excited for me to take your virginity?" You prompt, shifting your position on your bed to where you and Armin's faces are a few inches apart. "I didn't think you really cared about that sort of thing."

"Sex?" Armin asks while his eyebrows pinch together slightly. He's giving a small cute pout. "I know it's hard to believe, but I am still a guy.."

"Oh? Is this when you give me the spill about having urges and desires too?" You tease him, and he's slowly leaning back against your pillows. Your body carefully shifts on top of his.

His heart is hammering through his chest - his nervousness and excitement making him feel like he's going to explode. He just hoped you didn't notice how painfully hard he was already. He had been subtly concealing a boner since you offered to take his virginity.

"Is that what you want to hear?" He asks as he gazes up at you. At this point you're straddling his waist. Your hands are pressed to his chest.

"You know... yeah, tell me what urges and desires the infamous nerdy Armin Arlert has." You raise an eyebrow at him with a lopsided grin, excited to hear about what fantasies he conjures up in that cute head of his.

"Well... I think a lot about you..."

"Yeah..? What about me?" Your hands slowly rub up and down his chest, and you can feel his hard on pressing desperately against your thigh.

"J-just about..." He's stuttering now, and his face is flushing a deep red as you're not giving him must leeway to escape this. "Your lips... how soft they'd feel."

"You think about kissing me?" Your hips shift ever so subtly, causing a small gasp from Armin.

"Amongst other things..." He breathes out, but he's given no chance to gather himself before you take his wrists and pin them to the sides of his head.

You lean down over him, hovering your lips right over his. "If you want it... take it." You whisper softly, your breath ghosting over his lips, causing him to shiver.

A small whimper escapes him before he leans up, and he captures your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. You ease up on his lap, allowing for him to control the kiss for a moment.

He kisses you needily - so desperate to feel more, but he isn't quite sure on how to initiate that. Your lips are as soft as he imagined, and you taste like strawberry poundcake. He's already so addicted. It was his first kiss, and you were already rotting him from the inside out.

Your hands release his wrists, and you cup his jaw instead, taking control of the kiss. Your teeth tease his bottom lip, showing him exactly how to achieve what he wants. Your tongues clash together, and his hands find your hips. His thumbs rub into your hip bones, loving the feeling of you in his lap.

After a while, you finally part from him. A small thin string of saliva connects you two as you're both panting, trying to recover from the steamy kiss.

"What else is do you want?" You whisper softly, intending to give this man whatever he so asks for.

"I- I want..." His voice is breathy, overcome with intense lust as he lifts his hips up, hoping you'll get the memo.

"Sayy it." You taunt with an evil smile.

"Please- I... I want you to use me." He whines, and he tilts his head back slightly as his bulge grinds so nicely against your core.

Your hips begin to roll, adding on to the fiction for both of you. You can tell through his pants that Armin isn't exactly small like most people would believe him to be since he's not exactly tall.

"Mmmnph~" His breathing is labored as he feels his tip already making a mess in his boxers. He quickly grabs your hips and stills them before he can make a real mess.

"What is it-? Did I do something wrong?" You ask in a concerned tone before you realize just how red his face his. He looks so disheveled already. His blonde hair was a mess upon his head.

"N-no... it was really good." He admits quietly. "Too good... I didn't want to..." His voice trails off, and he looks away from you with an embarrassed look.

"Oh.. I see.." You reply with a small grin, finding it cute how worked up he gets. You slowly ease your pants and panties down your legs, and you toss them onto the ground.

“Do you ever watch porn while thinking about these things?” You ask, going back to his fantasies.

“Mmm.. sometimes, but the mental image is enough most times.” His eyes glance down towards your thighs and lower half. “Some… sometimes I imagine you riding my face…”

“Oh?” You prompt with a small smile. “Do you want me to sit on your face?”

Armin nods his head quickly, and he scoots his body down lower, already prepping for you to take your rightful seat on his tongue. He’s nervous about eating you out for the first time, but he’s nearly drooling at the thought of you putting your weight down on his head. He wonders just how sweet you’ll taste.

“Is that a yes?”

“Please..” He asks so sweetly. You have to reward him.

You crawl up to where his head is laid back against your mattress, placing your legs on either side of his face, and your fingers comb through his messy blonde hair. He looks up at you through his eyelashes with a truly pitiful gaze.

“Tap my thigh three times if you can’t breathe, okay sweet boy?” You ask to make sure he understands. He nods his head without a second thought before leaning up to press a kiss against your cunt.

Eren had talked about eating Mikasa out before to Armin… despite Armin’s many, many attempts to make him shut up. Eren would tell Armin that he wouldn’t stop until she was a shaky mess on top of him. That was Armin’s goal. He wanted to feel your thighs tremble from his tongue.

“Good boy…” You purr as you slowly lower yourself onto his mouth. Armin immediately seems to just know what to do as if it was pure instincts coursing through him.

He starts off slow, pressing gentle kisses against your cunt before he starts to lap at you. A hum fleas him as he savors the taste of you. Just as sweet as he imagined.

With his tongue, he finds the small button of nerves at the top of your cunt. He immediately knows what it is by the way your body jolts upwards a bit, and a small whine falls from your lips.

He reaches up, and he pulls a bit more down onto his tongue. He doesn’t like how you’re hovering — as if you’re scared to hurt him. He wants to feel you sit - not hover.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You murmur quietly to him, which only makes him more determined to make you sit.

“You’re not going to hurt me. Please, I want you to sit.” He pulls your hips again. “Use me.” He whines as he starts to gently suckle on your clit, making you jolt again.

His hands massage the flesh of your ass, and he starts to force your hips to rock back and forth while he flattens his tongue against your slippery folds.

You taste so fucking divine. Armin’s completely lost in your essence. His eyes are fluttered shut as he’s licking, kissing, suckling every thing you’ll allow him to.

Your hand is entangled in his pretty blonde hair as your hips are rolling back and forth. His nose bumps against your swollen clit, making you clench around nothing. You’ve never experienced head like this — not when most men make it sound like a chore. Armin sees it as a blessing.

The sounds in the room sound like they’re straight from a porno as your cunt sounds so sticky and drenched. Armin’s making soft hums and whines as he’s eating you like a starved man. Your moans fill the room — not caring if anyone could hear you next door.

“Just like that.. f-fuck.. gonna make me finish.” You pant, unable to even think straight while he’s plunging is tongue in and out of you.

Armin flutters his eyes open to look up at you. You’re so fucking pretty. How did he get so lucky? The way you’re completely coming undone on top of him has him literally trying to hump the air. His neglected cock sits flush against his tummy, leaking clear pre-cum all over himself and his clothes.

“Armin-!” You cry his name as you clench around air. More juices seep from your weeping hole, and he’s quick to clean you up with his tongue.

Your breath staggers as you come down from your orgasm. Of all people, Armin Arlert was the first to make you finish off head.

He’s not done though. Your thighs haven’t trembled yet. His hands grip around you, forcing you to keep gyrating on his tongue. He’s getting absolutely nasty with it, desperate to make you spent.

“O-oh god- wait, Armin— I f-finished.” You try to tell him, thinking he didn’t catch on, but he doesn’t relent.

His eyes almost have a smoldering gaze as he looks up at you with his mouth occupied with your cunt. His hands are kneading at the fat of your ass before he drags one finger towards your entrance.

“H-hold on. Wait- I-“ You’re nervously babbling, already feeling overstimulated. So when he slips his digit deep into your sopping wet cunt, and he curls it juuust right… you’re a shaking mess on top of him.

He smiles against your core, knowing now that he can stop. He slips his finger out, and he pressed a saccharine kiss to your pussy before tapping on your thigh.

Your body is trembling as you slowly lean up from his face, and you’re trying to stabilize your breath.

Armin just looks up at you, waiting for feedback on his little performance.

“You did such a good job. Good boy.” You praise before pressing light kisses along his cheeks. You can feel the way his face heats up when you praise him like that.

You finally press a kiss to his lips after a few moments, tasting yourself on his tongue. Armin lifts his hips up again, reminding you that he’s so painfully pent up. He’s aching for release.

Your hands find the waistband of his jeans, and you carefully unbutton them while continuing to intertwine your lips with his. He whines when you part from the kiss.

Once his jeans and boxers are off, you finally get to admire his pretty cock slapped against his tummy. His tip was coated in sweltering pre-cum. Just to tease him, you scoot down and give his tip a small kitten lick, tasting the sweet and salty taste of his arousal.

“Mmph- yn-“ Your name sounds like a plea when he whines it. His cock immediately flexes underneath your tongue. You giggle and give him another small kitten lick. “Ah~ please…”

“Please what?” You ask, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Need to b-be inside you.. please miss.” He whines so shamelessly, abandoning all his previous embarrassment. He can’t afford to be shy when he’s craving the feeling of your gummy walls tightening around him.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You scoot your hips back up, and you grind against him a few times, getting his cock nice and coated in your slick.

Armin’s practically fisting at the bedsheets. Feeling your bare pussy rubbing against him was soooo much better than when you were still clothed.

“Miss..” He whimpers softly as his hips flutter upwards to rub against you in an act of desperation. “Miss, can you… take your shirt off please..?”

You gaze at him puzzled for a moment. It was an odd time to make that sort of request, but who were you to deny such a needy plea?

Your hands pull your shirt above your head, and you toss it off the side of your bed. Your hips go back to rocking against him as his tip is kissing strings of pre-cum to your clit.

He admires the way your black lacy bra sits flush against your skin. It only solidifies in his mind just how out of his league you are. He’ll never be able to comprehend just why you’re deciding to give him a chance.

“M-may I..?” He asks as his hands reach for the backside of your bra. As much as he loves the way the fabric cups your breasts so beautifully, he’s after something else.

“Go ahead, baby.” You answer him, and he’s quick to unhook your bra as if he had practiced before.

Eren definitely taught him how, but you don’t need to know that!

Armin watches with wide, excited eyes are your breasts bounce from the confines of your bra. His hand gently kneads on one, loving how your soft pillowy flesh filled his hand.

His eyes gaze upward at you as he leans in and captures your nipple into his mouth. His mouth feels attentive as he carefully swirls his tongue around the pebble, and he gently sucks on it while his eyes fall shut.

Maybe he’s died. This must be what heaven feels like. The only thing that’ll make this better is if..

One of your hands entangle in his hair, and the other hand reaches behind you. Your fingers wrap around his length before guiding him inside you.

Armin immediately moans pitifully around your mound. He has to detach from you to focus all his attention on not busting inside you immediately like the pathetic virgin he is.

“Are you alright, baby?” You ask him with a devious grin. If you weren’t focused on teasing him so much, you’d probably be as much of a mess as he is.

“S-so tight.. fuck yn- I can’t-!” He’s nearly crying as you sink yourself down on top of him, until he’s buried to the hilt.

You try to lift your hips up, but Armin’s hands wrap around your hips, and he forces you right back down onto his lap. “N-not yet. Please miss-“ You’re honestly taken aback by how strong he is. Even though he doesn’t look it, he could overpower you if he wanted. “D-don’t wanna come yet.”

“So sensitive.” You purr as you lean down towards him. Your hand cups his cheek, and you stroke his face with your thumb. “I thought you wanted to be used, baby.”

“I do.. I just… don’t want to leave you unsatisfied.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.” You laugh softly before pressing a kiss to his nose. “Well, if you finish and I’m not done yet, I’ll just keep going. I’ll use you again and again until I’m spent.”

His cock literally twitches inside of you from your words, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. He feels nervous yet so damn excited. His legs are literally flinching from his nerves.

His hand loosen up, and you get to work, riding him like you two wouldn’t see each other tomorrow.

You’re just so fucking wet and tight. Armin knows there’s no way he’s going to last long, not when you feel like paradise between your legs.

Within the minute, Armin is emptying himself deep inside you. “G-gods! Fuck, miss… ‘m sorry.” You give him an understanding smile, and you help ride out his orgasm. “‘m sorry.” He whimpers again before he takes your nipple back into his mouth, showing you just how sorry he is.

He’s a sorry man who can’t get enough of your delicious cunt milking him until you’re done for.

His cum seeps out and coats his cock as you continue to bounce yourself up and down. Armin’s a complete whiny mess as he’s trying to cope with how completely sensitive his cock is.

“Ah~ fuck miss… mmmph~ sooo good.” He’s completely babbling praises to your sopping wet cunt.

“You… ngh.. like being used like this?” You ask, and your hand lightly wraps around his neck, testing the waters. You don’t squeeze at all, just showing that you could if you wanted to.

“I love it.. wanna be yours, miss. Please, make me yours.” He pleas. You’re completely enamored with how much of a mess he is. He’s truly begging to be yours.

“Mine.” You mumble as you feel your stomach beginning to coil. With each rock of your hips, you’re growing closer and closer.

Unlatching your hand from his neck, you lean in and suck love bites into his neck, laying your claim on him.

Armin doesn’t ever cuss, but he has a complete sailor’s mouth when he’s balls deep inside you. “F-fuck.. miss-! cumming!” He warns before his cock is shooting into you once again.

His legs are shaking beneath you as his orgasm washes over him completely once again. His cock is weakly twitching inside you, so terribly sensitive that it almost hurts.

“Wan’ me to finish on you?” You whisper into his ear while your hips are desperately moving up and down. Your poor bed is creaking with each movement, and Armin’s just barely hanging onto his sanity by a thread.

“P-please… please cum on me.. wan’ to feel you.” His voice is a mere whimper, and he carefully reaches between your two. His thumb presses against your clit before he rubs in slow circles.

“Fuck— just like that.. goood boy..” You can’t even find your breath as you’re chasing after your high.

Your entire body gyrates on top of him once your orgasm finally crashes over you. Your vision is nearly doubled from how hard you finish on top of him.

A whiny groan leaves Armin’s lips as he feels you clenching around him. His body is so hyper sensitive. He feels like a million little lightning bolts are striking him all over. His skin feels like electricity against yours.

You take a moment to catch your breath finally as you stay on his lap. Both of you are completely disheveled together.

“Did I… do good?” He quietly asks you, hoping that it was as good for you as it was for him.

“Did soooo good.” You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

He smiles softly, and he leans into your touch. “Can we get cleaned up now..? I had a thought provoking epiphany while I was coming inside you about how we could help the atmosphere.”

Oh, to be loved by a nerdy man.

[vienssunshine]

I just wanna get high with my best friend

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader nsfw: shotgunning, kissing cw: cheating, weed use author's note: this work is inspired by this song

You weren’t sure why Maki turned so cold when you got a boyfriend. The two of you were so close, constantly having sleepovers in your dorm rooms, training together, eating together, really doing anything and everything as long as it was together. But, that all slowed down when you started dating a male sorcerer from another school. You still saw Maki every day, but something felt off now. Every time you talked about your boyfriend, she always had something negative to say about him. Her comment “I could treat you way better than him” was especially difficult to brush off.

The tension comes to a head when you’re spending another late night in your dorm room, sharing a bed and a blunt.

You blow a cloud of smoke from your mouth and a warm haze begins to flood your bloodstream, contrasting the cold, winter air the cracked window is letting into the room. Maki always has the best stuff; you’re feeling much more relaxed now—the stress of your new relationship and Maki’s strange behavior has been weighing on you.

Your phone dings; the noise is shrill. “Oh, he texted me,” you notice.

Maki takes the blunt from your fingers, choosing to take a drag rather than respond. She leans back on one of your pillows, amber eyes lowered and not focused on anything.

You bring your phone into your lap. “He wants to go ice-skating tomorrow.”

“You hate being cold," she says.

You look up from your phone. “Well, yeah. But, I don't know, maybe ice-skating could still be fun.”

Maki huffs and rolls her eyes. “He’s an idiot.”

“Go easy on him, okay?” you smile, texting him back, “He hasn’t known me as long as you have.”

“He doesn’t know you at all,” she says, placing the joint back between her lips.

You send a text to your boyfriend: “Ice-skating sounds good.”

He responds immediately: "Ight, be there around 3.”

That’s when your training sessions are. You press your lips together; you’re certain you’ve told him that before.

You begin typing your response when Maki turns her head. “Hey, want to try something cool?”

Text message half-written, you put down your phone. “Uh, sure. What are you thinking?”

“Want to try shotgunning?” Maki asks. Her expression is far more interested after the change in subject.

You tilt your head. “What’s shotgunning?”

“Here, I’ll show you. Come closer.”

You clamber over your plush bedding and sit next to her, re-adjusting the blanket she had thrown over your legs after you opened the window.

Maki holds the blunt up and explains, “I’ll blow the smoke into your mouth and you inhale it, okay?”

You furrow your brows together. “Does that really work?”

“It does, I’ve seen it at parties.”

You shrug. “Okay, I’ll try it.”

Maki smirks and brings the blunt to her mouth, taking a deep breath in that has the end of the joint smoldering. She places her hand on your shoulder and leads you closer to her until her lips mere centimeters from yours.

Your eyes flutter shut and you open your mouth, receptive when she blows the smoke inside it. You bring the drug deep down into your lungs. It burns, but it’s pleasant at the same time.

Your head is cloudy and your body heavy when you breathe the smoke out. Everything just feels so…good.

You’re so glad you can hang out with Maki like this. Just you two. Alone. Her hand on your shoulder—she hasn’t moved it yet—feels so nice. You like her so much. Maybe more than your boyfriend.

Your lips touch. You pull back slightly. This is wrong. But, then she leans forward and her lips are on you again. It’s making your skin buzz. Wrong or not, you melt into her.

Her hand on your shoulder tightens and she brings you in closer, deepening the kiss. Your lips and tongues explore each other, minds entirely free of thoughts, only able understand the sensation of your bodies meeting each other.

She breaks the messy kiss for a moment to whispers some words into your mouth, just like she had with the smoke. “Glad you realized I’m better than him.”

You cup her face with your hands, “Yeah, you are.”

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

You and James have found more than friendship on the ice. When you’re afraid to flub a jump and take the leap with him into something more, he finds a way to convince you. [4k]

hockey player!james, figure skater!reader, shy!reader, fem!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, confessions, first kiss, idiots in love, james is tall pretty and extremely in love, sometimes shy!james <3 requested here 

･:*:｡･:*:･ﾟ

You're used to the skin tight costumes of figure skating, and have accepted the fact that they show the entirety of your thighs— that's sort of the point. What you're not used to, however, is having the hockey team see you in said costumes.

James is thrilled. "Look at you, angel! You're in costume!"

He holds the sides of the rink in his hands, leaning his weight toward the ice. You wrap your arms around yourself self-consciously. 

"I was hoping you wouldn't see me," you admit, though you can't help smiling at him anyhow. 

You're usually very happy to bump into him, and your body reacts like it's been conditioned to. James leads to good feelings. 

"I bet you were," he says. 

James reaches out for you, and you skate to the end of the rink despite yourself. He doesn't touch you when you're close, you weren't really expecting him to, only inclines his head inward to tell you something quietly, all secretive like. 

"Your skirt’s tucked in a little bit. On the left," he says. 

"Oh, how," you grumble, twisting your torso to try and see what he means. A leaf of your skirt has managed to fold itself into the fabric that covers your butt. "That's so embarrassing." 

You were likely trying to unstick a slight wedgie when it happened. It's mortifying, but James probably doesn't know how it happened… probably. You yank the skirt out and hope he can't read what you're thinking off of your face. 

"Thanks, James," you say quietly. 

You say his name with altogether too much affection, considering you're friends. Acquaintances, even. You know James within these walls and nowhere else, like work colleagues, and you'd die if he knew how close you felt to him. In fairness, you both spend the majority of your free time within these walls, but still. 

He's probably the best friend that you have. Which is pathetic. But between skating and your nervous disposition, this is as good as it was ever going to get. And you don't mind. 

All of the time. 

"You're welcome. If I knew we were dressing up today, I would've worn something nice." He has his jogging bottoms on and not his big bulky kit. You try not to stare at the more tight-fitting form of his hoodie sleeves, but it's hard. His biceps are ridiculous. "Are you staying?" 

Sometimes, if the boys are practising you'll stay. It's free entertainment — and it is incredibly entertaining to watch. James and his friends are a semi-professional team, which means they're a mixture of good and fun. They play because they love it, and they all have their night jobs to go back to after. It makes it easier for you and James to get along: you're semi-professional too. You're never going to the Olympics, you know that. You skate because you love it. 

There's a clock steadily ticking down on your skills. Every year you get older, heavier, a little more inflexible. The more intense sportsmen and women fight this, revile this, but you've accepted it completely. Skating is for fun. The competitions are to see how far you can go, and it sucks to lose, but the chance that you might win means you keep trying. 

If James and his friends are doing laps, it's a mock punishment from their coach. In half an hour they'll be playing a friendly match against one another like nothing happened. 

"I have to go take this off but… yeah, I'll stay. Is Sirius here today?" 

James leans back and you follow his turned gaze to a lean figure across the way. As soon as you spot him, your ears tune in to his raucous laughter. 

"You won't let him see me, will you?" you ask gently. "He'll never let me hear the end of it."  

James shakes his head. "Of course not. I'll go distract him, alright? You run away." 

You give him a very grateful nod. James turns away. You almost miss it, the double take that he does, like he wants one last look. 

You skate off to the other side of the ice where your skate guards, water bottle and hoodie sit waiting. The guards snap on easily. You throw your hoodie over your arm and make a break for the changing rooms, Sirius’ incredulous voice tailing your retreat at the last second. 

Once you've changed out of your costume and packed it away neatly in your locker, you walk back to the main auditorium, freaking out as gently as you're able to. You keep having conniptions about James, because James keeps looking at you like he has something to say. You've never been the object of a pretty boy's affections. You're worried that it's all in your head, and that you'll make a fool of yourself if you try to flirt back, but his face when he'd seen you in your costume gives you a terrifying new confidence. 

James had been ecstatic. His eyes had roved all over you and he hadn't tried to hide it. His smile was huge and one hundred percent genuine: appreciative. Like he couldn't be happier to see you. 

Is it wrong, then, to assume he likes you? No. You’ve known for a while. 

"Oof," you mutter to yourself, stepping back into the general chill of the rink and its surrounding stands. 

As you predicted, laps are over and the boys are in the thick of it, protection on, sticks shivering across ice with a sound like sharp blades. You stand behind a plexiglass screen and follow James' darting figure from afar. He's recognisable to you from the way he pulls back his arms, and the slight lean of his torso when he's standing still. You've spent too much time watching him. 

Too much time, and yet the rules are still complicated in your mind. James and Sirius are arguing with Frank on the opposite side about icing, passionate enough that James pulls his helmet off and begins throwing threats at his friends. 

"Mate, I'm actually about to drown myself," he warns, laughing through each word. "Are you listening to me? Take the penalty before I scream. Good god, man." 

You laugh. James' head almost snaps clean off his neck with the speed at which he turns to look at you. 

Sirius' head follows. 

"Hey!" Sirius calls immediately, abandoning his skirmish to skate towards you. "What the fuck! I wanted to see the dress, you let James see it! Go put it back on right now." 

"How'd you even know I was in a dress?" 

"How did I know? James lit up like a Christmas tree, that's how I know. He's disgusting all the time and it's your fault." 

"It's not really a dress," you say. Sirius is as nice as James but he's intimidating where James isn't. He's less smiles, more barking laughter. Less compliments, more playful chastisement. It's not his fault in any shape or form that you find his personality hard to respond to, but you do. "It's a bodysuit with a skirt. But sometimes… sometimes the girls do wear dresses."

"Yeah? I think he might pass out," Sirius says. Then, with a neater smile. "He told me to be nicer, I didn't know I was being mean, sorry. I really do wanna see your 'bodysuit with a skirt'. A little to make fun, but I bet you look good." 

James sweeps in and promptly knocks Sirius sliding sideways. "She looked amazing, now stop antagonising her." 

"I wasn't flirting, Jamie, no need to worry–" 

"Be gone, you beast." James' voice is tight with an emotion you can't name, lest you have another ruinous conniption for all to see. "Fuck off." 

Sirius snorts. There's a commotion, their unprofessional coach shouting about idiocy, a lack of commitment, and more laps if there isn't an improvement in team cohesion. James rolls his eyes at you as the coach drones on. You feel guilty for giggling. 

"Sorry for Sirius." James puts his hand on the top of his stick, bottom lip sticking out a touch as he grimaces. "Sorry for me, I'm sorry. I was hoping he'd use, like, a modicum of subtlety, but he's a dickhead and I know that. He's also a sweetheart. I should've guessed he'd rush to apologise." 

"No, don't be. He doesn't need to be sorry for anything, and you don't have to be sorry for looking out for me." 

"I'm not. Definitely not sorry for that." 

James pushes a curl behind his ear. His hair is lusciously shiny under stadium lights, dark dark dark and curled, sweet and thick. 

"You're in trouble." 

James looks over his shoulder toward his coach's booming disbelief. "What, with him? We're in the off-season right now, he needs to relax… I'm sorry, I feel like I'm not talking like a real human being right now." He laughs, awkward and charming at once. "Do I sound weird to you? Don't answer, that'll make it worse," he adds, his voice dipping into a genuine sadness. "Awful. Well, I'm going back over there to finish. Can you stay?" 

Not do you want to. Can you? It feels incredibly intimate, his easy assumption without a lick of expectancy. If you said no, he'd frown and throw his chest back, hand over his heart like he's been shot in one of his dramatics, but he’d understand.

"I'm staying," you say. 

"Brilliant. Okay." 

James Potter visibly flusters, tucking that same rogue curl behind his ear. You want to offer him something, a tight braid or one of your headbands from your bag. He skates off and you don't get the chance. 

You're a vestibule of conflicted emotion. James has been acting so unlike himself lately. He's shy at odd moments and quick to fluster, scratching at his neck or his biceps or his nose in what you've identified as his nervous tic. And you might be shy yourself but you're not stupid, he's practically a mirror.

Knowing James has a crush on you and accepting it are wildly different tasks.

What if you date and he realises it's a mistake? You'll lose your only good friend. No more practices with James on the sidelines shouting stories across the rink for you to hear. No more pep-talks on hard days, a big hand on your shoulder and his lilting superlatives in your ear. You're going to smash it, shortcake. No more half sandwiches when he forgets his lunch. No more laughing until your stomach hurts. No more of his cologne lignering on your shirt from a quick hug, the smell indescribable even now. Sandalwood? Dewberry? Something sweeter, fuller, bourbon vanilla?

James clatter off of the ice after a tremendous loss with high spirits. His helmet under his arm, mouth guard in hand, he walks on his skates to your bench and sits down with a smile. “That sucked.”

"It was a good game," you say. 

"Can't win them all. You going home now?" 

"Work. Gotta work my arms out too," you joke weakly, curling your arm inward. 

"Can I walk you? I can change quickly." 

"You don't have to–" 

"Please?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you say, feeling sick. "Yeah, okay." 

James guards up and leaves for the changing room. You sit on the bench tapping your knees together, wondering why it feels so awful to like him so much. Sirius and some other friends pack up soon afterward, and a few of them are nice enough to say goodbye as they pass. 

"See you tomorrow," Sirius says warmly. 

You grimace at him. You'd been attempting a smile, but that hadn't really panned out, meekness and nerves combined pulling the corners of your lips down. 

He wavers. 

"You know," he says, paused half a foot from you, "James is a big boy, he can handle rejection. He wouldn't be cruel to you, if you weren't interested." 

"That's not it." 

"No?" he asks, slim eyebrows raised. 

"It's the opposite of that. He's my friend." You admit it to yourself as you admit it to him. James is not an acquaintance. "Do you know what I mean? I don't want…" to lose him. 

Sirius nods. "You won't." His teeth flash as he smiles goodbye. 

James looks gorgeous when he emerges, his brown face framed by thick, dark hair, the strands closest to his face damp from a quick face wash. 

"You could put your hair up," you say, standing. "It's getting so long now." 

"Is it awful?" he asks, hand moving to the longest pieces at his neck. It's above his shoulder, but only just. 

"No… no, it's not awful." 

You both start walking towards the exit without another word. You should've said how you really feel about his hair —how it's gorgeous, and you'd like to run your hands through it, feel the softness for yourself and see the look on his face as he's touched with care— but you're worried one thread of honestly will pull at the rest, unspooling your innermost thoughts for him to see. You aren't ready for that. 

James puts a hand behind your shoulder as you pass out of the exterior glass doors and into the street. The rink isn't far from your work, only a ten minute walk, and the first two pass in silence. 

"You really looked lovely, in your costume. When is that, the competition?" 

"A week and two days." 

"Are you travelling?" 

You nod. "Not far, but." You wrap your arms around your front to stave off the cool chill of the whipping breeze. James' hair gets pushed into his eyes. "I have a bobble if you want it." 

"I can't do anything with it. It's not long enough for a ponytail, and I can't plait to save my life. I wouldn't know where to start." 

You're glad to be looking at the pavement in front of you rather than his face as you say, "I'd do it for you, but…" 

James' shoe hits a pebble. 

"I know," he says. "We're going down a one way street." 

"Right." Your heart soars, your chest lightens, so glad he understands where you're coming from. "If we keep going on like this there isn't a way to move back if it doesn't work, and I just… don't want to lose you. I can't, James. You're my– you're my only real friend. I like you," you confess, heart pounding in your throat, under your tongue, all the worst places it could stand to be. "I do. And I know you'd still be nice to me if I didn't. Um…" 

You flush with heat, realising what you've admitted, and what he hasn't. 

Like he can read it on your face, James' walking slows, and he turns in to face you.

"I like you, too," he says. "I'm a bit mad for you, actually." 

You'd known that. Hearing it is something else. You hadn't realised how strong the pull would feel after he said it aloud. You look up from his broad chest to meet his eyes, and see the magnetism you feel reflected in his gaze. His hand breeches the gap between your two bodies first, his fingertips and then the flat of his nails smooth as they slide across the top of your thigh. Careful, slow. 

James puts his hand on your waist. 

"You're worried we won't be friends, if we try to make whatever this is," —he smiles gently— "work, and we can't."

"Exactly. I… you're…" 

James takes your upper arm into his free hand. "I promise it will work," he murmurs. He looks at you with a steadiness bordering on stern. "Why are you so sure it won't?" 

"I'm worried," you say. 

"You're always worrying. But…” His hand flexes around your bicep. “You told me before, the reason you keep skating in competitions even though you don't win many anymore, do you remember that? You said you keep trying because the thrill of almost winning is nearly as good as the real thing." 

James' smile turns sheepish. "I'm supposed to say that I don't know if this will work. That the thrill of almost making it together will be worth it if we don't, but I already promised you we will." He leans in a little. You don't think he means to. "And won't that feel better than almost?" 

You look up into his handsome face, feeling your heart reach flat out, might as well be running full tilt speeds of beating. Your breath catches. 

"I don't want to end up alone," you confess on an exhale. 

"You won't. I'll make sure you won't." 

Wind curls his hair into his eyes. 

You reach out, your shaking index finger skirting over his brow bone as you tuck the runaway strand behind his ear. 

His grip grows tighter at your waist. Never cruel, but insistent, desperate almost, in the way that his thumb shudders across your hoodie. You can’t feel his skin over the thick layer of cotton and polyester but you can feel the heat, like a star blistered against your hip bone, like a begging wish. You want him to touch you more than you can stand — you’re pleading with him in your head to do what you can’t do. 

It must show in your eyes, the pained pinch of your brow. 

“We’ll take things slowly,” he says. “We won’t do anything we can’t undo. All you have to do is trust me. If… if you want to.”

You lick your lips. Taking things slowly. You can’t kiss him, can’t trick yourself into the gratification of having someone so darlingly gorgeous put his hands on you. If he kisses you now, you’ll forget all the reasons why this is a bad idea. You won’t be able to test the waters. If you kiss him, you can’t take it back. For either of you. 

James’ hand smooths down the length of your hip as he pulls it back. The other falls toward your hand. Your mourn the loss of his touch, but he’s offering you his hand, his long fingers separated, gaps waiting to be filled. 

“Slowly,” you say, putting your hand in his. 

He gives your joined hands an experimental squeeze. “We’ve all the time in the world.”

James starts walking back the way you came, pulling you with him down the road.

“James, where are we?”

“I told you. We went down a one way street by accident. Or, I tried to tell you, but you started talking.” His smile says he knows exactly what’s happened, the nature of your misunderstanding. “You were distracted.”

You’ve confessed on the basis of a misunderstanding. “This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” you utter.

James swings your hand lightly. 

“And the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says. “Since you’ll be late now anyhow, maybe we could go get a hot chocolate.”

You gawp at his pleased smile. What have I gotten myself into? you think. And then, louder, Wow, he looks so happy. 

—

James strangles the neck of a bulging bouquet in his hands, green stems wrapped in cellophane choked between two stressed palms, ten rigid fingers. The smell of fresh pollen and something sweeter awakens at his abuse, but James can’t make himself put them down. 

You may not care if you win or lose the competition today, but he does. He hasn’t actually ever been with you during one, and he wasn’t supposed to be here today — he had a game, and as soon as it was over he piled into Sirius’ car with his kit on and had his friend break a couple of road rules (read: not laws, but guidelines) involving trampling a garden and a precarious not u-turn. (Sirius may have broken a law or two, but they were daft laws, and James didn’t get anybody hurt.)

He knows it doesn’t matter. He said you’d take it slow, and you are. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and he doesn’t mind nearly as much as he worried. It’s enough to know you’re his, exclusively if tenuously, that he can find you at the rink or walk you to work and not need a reason anymore, because he wants to see you, and that’s enough. He’d even taken you out on a date, a proper one after the hot chocolate, with nice clothes and wine and champagne at a weirdly intricate restaurant that served foie gras and played classical music in the background. It was cute, and James adored being able to pull out your seat, take your jacket off of your shoulders, kiss your cheek goodnight just a little further in than a friend might. 

You’ve finished the jumps in your program now, and James is relieved and gutted at once. Relieved, because they hadn’t quite scared him so much on TV, and gutted, because you look beautiful every time. It’s insane to see your body twist and turn, land and leap with that level of precision. All that's left for you to do is dance. He likes the way it looks, eyes focused on the pull and fall of your arms, how you smile, and in that last moment, where you pull your body in as tight as you can and spin until James is sure he’d see stars. 

You skate to the centre of the ice and bow to the judges, and you don’t notice James is standing there waiting for you until you’re off the ice completely. 

“Oh,” he sees you say rather than hears. When you’re just close enough to hear, you say, “Jamie, hi. I thought you had your game,” and throw your arms around his shoulders. James is very tall and very wide, and there’s a bouquet of flowers between you, but it’s a great hug.

He hugs you so hard you start to bend backward under his weight, the soft material of your bodysuit so soft it feels wet under his hands. Your face is hot, and you're still trying to catch your breath after your program, quick breaths like small gusts of wind against his neck. He feels your arms tighten incrementally, impossibly, and he closes his eyes for a lavish second of burying his nose in your hair. 

“I played, we lost, it was good fun. Now I’m here to watch my girl win big.”

You laugh and pull away, your eyes shimmering with joy, post-competition adrenaline. “I flubbed my first jump, did you see? I almost hit the ice.”

“You pulled up amazing,” he says. 

He spies your coach (who isn’t so much your coach as a friend, Mel, from the rink who goes with anyone who can get far enough into competitions to need one) with your jacket standing a little ways away. 

“Hey, Mel, could I have that?” James asks.

Mel gives him a knowing look. She hands it over and he shoves the flowers at you without waiting for a reaction, wanting to get you wrapped up warm again as fast as he can. You slide one arm at a time into the sleeves and don’t say a peep when he zips it closed. 

“James,” you say. Your cheek dips a touch toward your shoulder. Fondness lined each seraphim feature. “Sirius is calling you.”

He frowns. He’s been hoping for a little thank you kiss (cheek or chin, whatever you could reach), and Sirius is neither. He turns to where you’re looking at Sirius standing a ways away with some other spectators. 

“You have absolutely no game!” Sirius shouts. “None!”

“What’s your problem?” James shouts back. 

“You’re supposed to kiss her now? You twit!” he shouts, vehement. 

James turns away from him, “God, I’m sorry, he’s such a fucking idiot, he…” 

You’re looking at him. Quiet, face turned up and eyes squinted, eyelashes kissing in the corners, your glossy lips turned up like you want to be kissed. He feels it like a cheesy movie and he doesn’t care, every moment spent with you condensed as his hands come alive and cradle your face of their own accord. 

He isn’t expecting you to lift up on your skates and kiss him first. 

He does get fireworks, thank you very much. James Potter has been waiting to kiss you since the very first time he saw you, on ice, curling out of a tight spin with a deliriously happy laugh. It feels like an explosion, and the crowd cheers behind you for a jump he can’t see and it doesn’t matter, it fits, it makes perfect sense that a whole room of people would be up on their feet as he presses his lips to yours. 

“You looked so pretty,” he tells you, nose sliding against yours as he holds himself back. 

You kiss his bottom lip, another burst of floral scents erupting between you as you try not to slip back on your skate blades. “Thanks, James.”

He smiles into your mouth, melts into your hold, and takes another heart-thrumming kiss. 

You’re runner up in the competition. You’re the only girl who isn’t on the pedestal that gets a bouquet of flowers, and likely the only one who doesn’t care, not one bit. You smile at James like you’ve won the gold on the way out of the centre, your hand latched firmly around his. 

“Sirius.” You stop in the car park, flowers pressed to your chest. James stops beside you with your skate bag swung over his shoulder. “What happened to your car?” you ask. 

Sirius kicks a new dent. “Friendship,” he says grimly. 

James leans toward you, his lips at your ear. “Bender. Best not to ask about it. He’s sensitive.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Okay.”

He kisses your temple. “Thanks, angel.”

･:*:｡･:*:･ﾟ

thank you so much for reading! please reblog if you enjoyed, it makes such a difference for me <3<3<3<3<3

[cera-writes]

First Impressions - A Kurt Wagner x gn!reader one-shot

Summary: You first met Kurt at the Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The first time you laid eyes on the blue elf, you were smitten. Fast forward to the 90s and you and Kurt meet again under much different circumstances. tags: fluff, coming of age, mutual pining

The Bavarian sun, a pale orb veiled by a dusty scrim, cast a sickly yellow glow upon Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The peeling paint on the rickety wooden sign promised wonders, but the air itself held a different story. It reeked of damp straw and the acrid tang of manure, a far cry from the anticipated scent of popcorn and sugared treats. Disappointment gnawed at you, a shadow settling over your heart despite your parents' enthusiastic promises.

Your parents had dragged you along on this trip. It was your summer vacation and apparently you were there to also stay with distant relatives. But you knew your parents were in it just for the free stay and a vacation away from the States. Out of all the touristy things your parents could have picked for you to do, they chose a musty, worn down circus. Honestly, you were ready to be back in America with your friends at the arcade or skating rink. This wasn't how you imagined you'd spend your summer at all.

"C'mon darling. The show is about to start!" Your mother ushered you inside the tent as the ticket master tore your ticket stubs in half as your father followed close behind.

Inside, the spectacle was every bit as underwhelming as the exterior. The big cats, once proud denizens of the savanna, paced restlessly in cramped cages, their magnificent coats dull with neglect. Their amber eyes, once fierce and watchful, were now clouded with resignation. The stench of their confinement hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant posters plastered precariously on the weathered orange and red canvas walls. You took a seat in the rafters for the best view, if you even could call it that.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled to life, the announcer's voice a tired rasp battling with static. "Presenting," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of forced excitement, "our opening act of the night, the Mystifying Nightcrawler!" A spotlight pierced the gloom, bathing the center ring in a harsh white light. From the shadows emerged a figure unlike any you had ever seen. Your eyes widened. Was he- was he really a mutant? You had never seen one in person. He was absolutely beautiful.

"It's him..." you mother sneered. Your parents however, held gazes of contempt and disgust towards Nightcrawler, and any other mutant for that matter. You tuned out their nasty whispers and just focused on the boy standing at the platform.

He was clad in a costume that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, a deep cobalt blue that seemed to drink in the stark light. A mask, sculpted from some unknown material, obscured his face, but a shock of blue black hair, as vibrant as a summer sky after a downpour, peeked out from beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and sun-bleached canvas that surrounded him.

Then, he moved. There was an effortless grace to his every action, as if defying the earth's very pull. He launched himself from a platform hidden in the shadows, his form a blur of blue and black against the harsh white backdrop. He wasn't just swinging; he was dancing, his body twisting and turning with an impossible fluidity. Every leap, every flip spoke volumes of preternatural strength and agility. He was a silent symphony in motion, an enigma wrapped in cobalt and shadow.

But it was more than just his skill that captivated you. There was an aura about him, an undeniable magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was a mystery that whispered promises of adventure and a world hidden just beyond the confines of the dusty circus tent. With each breathtaking leap, with every impossible maneuver, a spark ignited within you, a yearning for something more, something extraordinary.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed to find yours through the harsh glare of the spotlight. A jolt of electricity shot through you, a connection forged in that shared glance. Then, with a flourish that echoed the fading magic of the moment, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of shimmering blue and the lingering echo of wonder in your heart.

The rest of the night was a blur. The other acts faded into oblivion, their performances mere afterimages compared to the spectacle you had just witnessed. Your mind replayed the image of the Nightcrawler, his impossible agility, and the enigmatic smile hidden beneath the mask. The program, clutched tightly in your hand, became a talisman against the fading magic, a tangible reminder of the night that had stolen your breath and ignited a latent flame deep within your very core.

As the applause dwindled and the spotlight dimmed, you felt a frantic energy surge through you. You couldn't just let this incredible encounter end. You had to meet the Mystifying Nightcrawler, to thank him for his amazing performance. It totally didn't have anything to do with your newfound crush. Nope.

Despite your parents' apathy towards mutants, their dismissal fueled a rebellious spark. Seeing the way they interacted with the worn-out animals solidified your resolve. This wasn't a place of wonder, but a place where the extraordinary was exploited. But Nightcrawler, he was different. He brought a touch of magic to the dreary spectacle.

"Come on," your mother called, her voice laced with impatience, "Let's get some overpriced cotton candy and get out of here."

You mumbled an excuse, your heart hammering in your chest. Scanning the emptying stands, you spotted him – a flash of blue disappearing behind a faded red curtain. With a last furtive glance at your parents, now deep in conversation with a vendor, you sprinted towards the backstage area.

The worn canvas walls billowed in the evening breeze, and the air thrummed with a low murmur of voices. You navigated the maze of caravans, each one a peeling testament to the circus's nomadic life. Just as you were about to give up, a figure emerged from one of the larger caravans.

It was him. The Nightcrawler. But instead of his vibrant costume, he was clad in worn jeans and a simple white shirt. He held a red rose in his hand, its vibrant color stark against his stark blue fur. His mask was off, revealing kind golden eyes and a mischievous grin.

Your stomach did a nervous flip-flop. This wasn't the enigmatic performer you'd admired from afar. He had to have been around the same age as you. His vulnerability made him even more captivating. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

Sensing your presence, he turned, his yellow eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile spread across his face, as warm and genuine as the setting sun.

"“Hallo Schöne”," he said, his voice a melodic baritone. "Seems the Mystifying Nightcrawler has a little fan."

You stammered, cheeks burning. "I, uh… I just wanted to thank you. Your performance… it was incredible. Um, you're also the first mutant I've ever seen. Sorry, I'm not from around here. I'm from America." You played with the hem of your shirt, fidgeting nervously around him.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. "Thank you, frau. You make a kind audience. I hope I did not frighten you. I know I look a bit... ungewöhnlich."

He held out the rose. "Would you care for this?"

You hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take the flower, its soft petals cool against your fingertips. "It's beautiful," you breathed.

His gaze held yours, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "So," he said, his voice dropping a touch, "what's a junge Dame like you doing backstage at a traveling circus?"

You inhaled deeply, the scent of hay and diesel fuel filling your lungs. As you spoke, a strange tingling sensation crawled up your arm, making the hairs stand on end. It felt... electric, like a current running just beneath the surface of your skin. You flinched, dropping your gaze from Kurt's captivating golden eyes to the rose in your hand.

"I…" you started, your voice catching in your throat. The tingling intensified, spreading across your body in a wave. Panic surged through you, a primal fear of the unknown. Before you could apologize or explain the sudden tremor, your vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to distort around you, the vibrant red rose in your hand pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Kurt's demeanor shifted instantly. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a mask of concern. He reached out, his hand hovering a safe distance from yours. "Are you alright, Freund ?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak, your tongue thick and heavy. The strange energy within you crackled, yearning to be released. This wasn't the first time your body reacted this way. You feared the worst. You were starting to believe you were a mutant too. But you could never reveal that to your parents.

They'd disown you in a heartbeat. All those scholarships they made you apply for would never matter if they found out you were different. You knew you needed to get away, to disappear before you lost control and revealed your secret in front of the mysterious Nightcrawler.

"I… I don't feel well," you managed to force out, your voice shaky. Shame burned in your stomach for the abrupt change. "I should get back to my parents."

Kurt's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "Of course," he said gently. "Let me take you to them."

He moved with his trademark agility, guiding you through the maze of caravans with an ease that left you breathless. You stumbled slightly, your legs shaky under the weight of the unknown power coursing through you. Kurt offered you his arm for support, but before you could reach for it, your parents' voices cut through the air.

"There you are!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

You turned to see them approaching, their faces etched with concern. When they spotted Kurt hovering beside you, their expressions hardened.

"Don't touch our child, freak!" your father barked, his voice thick with disgust.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating. Kurt's hand recoiled as if struck. His shoulders slumped, the joy that had previously emanated from him extinguished.

"I was just helping, Herr," he said, his voice mild yet firm. "They seemed unwell."

Your mother scoffed. "Don't need any help from your kind." She grabbed your arm possessively, dragging you away before you could even look back at Kurt.

"Wait!" you cried, struggling against her grip. But your voice was lost in the bustle of the crowd. You stole a final glance over your shoulder, only to see Kurt standing alone, with one hand rubbing subconsciously over his other right bicep.

His yellow eyes, once filled with warmth, now held a flicker of sadness as they looked off in the distance. He was the first of his kind that you had met and you finally felt like you resonated with him. But it was all too short lived. All you were left of him was the single red rose he'd given you as a memory of your encounter.

With a heavy heart, you were whisked away from the circus, your first encounter with the Mystifying Nightcrawler ending abruptly, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste and a burning question: would you ever see him again?

The 90s were a whirlwind of discovering and finally, somewhat, honing your mutant abilities. Mutants, now looked down upon more than ever, made you even more of an advocate for your kind. You got that scholarship but at the expense of your parents actually disowning you after a fight at the dinner table ended up with your mother's smashed fine China on the floor at the expense of your powers.

For some reason, they'd brought up Nightcrawler again and it sickened you to the point that you'd had enough. When they found out you were just another "freak" that was the last straw and they kicked you out and you never heard from them again. Good riddance you'd said.

The only thing that sucked about them kicking you out was that you had to quickly find a job and a place to live or you'd end up just another homeless mutant on the streets. All that trust fund money had long gone down the drain when they cut you off completely.

You were residing in New York now. You found a dingy little apartment to live in while you finished up your degree in Advanced Physics. You were finally set to graduate this month and after that, who knows.

You wanted to find a job and finally move out of the crappy little apartment you'd called home for a few years now. At least your neighbor next door, Peter Parker, was usually quiet and it gave you room to study without having to complain with a knock at his door, even if he did come and go at odd times of the night.

One particular day, you were sitting at your favorite little corner coffee shop, studying for your final exam, when all hell broke loose on the street. A piece of large shrapnel flew through the glass of the shop, eliciting screams and terrified shouts from pedestrians as people flew to take cover.

You dove for cover under the overturned coffee table, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The tremor that had rattled the windows had morphed into a full-blown city-rattling rampage. But it wasn't an earthquake. The tremors moved, a monstrous crimson figure stomping through the city streets, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Juggernaut. You recognized him from news reports – a mutant powerhouse the X-Men struggled to contain. And here he was, rampaging through your city like a bull in a china shop.

Panic threatened to consume you, but amidst the chaos, a voice in your head rose above the fear. You were no longer the scared kid, afraid of their powers, who watched Nightcrawler perform at the circus.

If this new era taught you anything, it was discovering your mutant abilities, the escalating anti-mutant sentiment, and the brutal fight with your parents that ended with disownment and shattered family heirlooms. The memory of them calling you a "freak" like Nightcrawler still stung, but it also ignited a fire within you. You wouldn't be another victim.

Squinting past the overturned table, you saw the X-Men, their familiar blue and gold uniforms standing resolute against the crimson giant. And there he was, Nightcrawler – older, even more handsome than you'd remembered, but with the same twinkle in his eyes. He fought with a desperate grace, teleporting in and out, trying to flank Juggernaut. But the red behemoth seemed unstoppable.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the theoretical knowledge from years of studying advanced physics. The raw energy of the city pulsed around you, a live wire waiting to be tapped into. It felt almost like an extension of yourself, hungry for release. You stood, running from your sense of security, and joined the chaos outside.

With a surge of will, you unleashed it. A concentrated beam of pure energy, hotter than a thousand suns, erupted from your outstretched palms. It slammed into Juggernaut's side, the red giant staggering with a surprised grunt. The X-Men seized their chance, a flurry of attacks momentarily halting the crimson tide. Cyclops blasted an optic beam, Storm unleashed a swirling vortex of wind, and Wolverine harried Juggernaut with his adamantium claws.

Kurt, finally free from the relentless onslaught, materialized beside you, his yellow familiar eyes widening in disbelief. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. "It's you," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

You offered a small smile, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Helping hand, remember?" Your voice was hoarse, but it held a newfound strength. With another surge of energy, you deflected a stray blow from Juggernaut, allowing Storm to unleash another torrent of wind.

The X-Men, rejuvenated by your unexpected intervention, pressed their attack. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice boomed, urging Juggernaut to stand down. The fight raged on, but your power tip, the concentrated beam of pure energy, proved to be the turning point. Juggernaut, overwhelmed by the combined forces of the X-Men and your unique ability, faltered. His helmet had crumbled, rendering him vulnerable.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, Juggernaut surrendered, taken away by the NYPD as they forced his hefty frame into the back of a mutant prisoner containment vehicle. Exhausted but victorious, the X-Men regrouped. Kurt materialized beside you once more, his gaze still filled with awe and disbelief. "Freund," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it really you?"

You met his gaze, no longer the scared kid from the dusty circus tent. The years of hardship and self-discovery had forged you into a new person. With a defiant smile, you nodded, ready to tell your story and finally find your place amongst the X-Men.

You wanted more than anything to catch up with the infamous Nightcrawler. But Professor Xavier was making his way over to you, clearly wanting a word. The look on his face was nothing short of astonishment. Kurt, sensing this, gave you a reassuring nod as he turned to join the others once more.

"Are you alright, young one?" he inquired, his voice warm and calming.

You nodded, finding your voice a little hoarse. "Yes, Professor. Just a bit… surprised, I guess." You couldn't believe you were talking to the Professor X.

"Surprised?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I imagine so. But you were quite… extraordinary out there."

The compliment brought a shy smile to your face. You explained how you'd been studying advanced physics, how the energy in the city resonated with you, and how you'd finally been able to control it. You confessed your situation too, about the fight with your parents and being disowned. Shame burned in your stomach, but you held Professor Xavier's gaze.

"It seems you have much to learn, young one," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "But you also have much to teach. We've been looking for someone to help our young mutants hone their abilities, someone who understands the science behind them." His eyes twinkled. "Would you be interested in a position at the X-Mansion, once you graduate of course?"

A wave of emotions washed over you – relief, hope, and a flicker of something more. The X-Mansion. A place where you could belong, where you could use your abilities without fear. You looked at Kurt, who stood a few feet away, a wide grin plastered on his face. His saffron eyes held a spark of excitement, mirroring your own.

"I… I'd be honored sir," you stammered, a genuine smile blooming on your face.

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Excellent. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and settled in? The X-Mansion can be your home. In the meantime, we can work on your new alias." He chuckled lightly.

The mansion, a sprawling structure that seemed to rise organically from the wooded landscape, took your breath away. It was a world away from your cramped apartment, a sanctuary for those who were different. You settled in quickly, the warmth of the X-Men a stark contrast to the cold rejection you'd faced at home.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake behind the mansion in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself drawn to its peaceful serenity. As you sat on the edge of the dock, a sudden bamf! sound reverberated next to you as a scent of brimstone hung in the air. It was Nightcrawler.

Suddenly, you felt very conscious and shy all over gain. It was really him. There was no mistaking that sheen of blue fur that lined his skin.

"Quite the entrance you made today," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed, a nervous flutter in your chest. "I figured you could use some help."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water. You took a deep breath, finally ready to share your story.

"Remember what you said at the circus? About me being a kind audience?"

Kurt nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features.

"Well," you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper, "I wasn't just kind. I was… smitten. You were the first mutant I ever saw, and it was like watching magic. The thought that for one second, I wasn't alone. That there was another similar to me."

You explained how your parents' reaction had fueled your fear, how you'd kept the rose all these years. You confessed how they'd called you a "freak" just like you'd mentioned, and how you'd ended up alone after they disowned you.

Kurt listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn't quite decipher. When you finished, he reached out, taking your hand gently in his. His blue fur felt surprisingly warm against your skin.

"My Freund," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "You are no freak. You are extraordinary. And your parents… well, they were wrong. Trust me, I've lived all my life thinking I was an abomination."

You felt a twist of pain at his words. He was so kind and sweet. Even just so as the night when you'd met him the first time back at that old, sketchy Bavarian circus.

He squeezed your hand, and a spark shot through you. You looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own feelings there.

"The truth is," Kurt confessed, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck, "you've never left my mind either. There was something about you that day, a spark I couldn't ignore."

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. The thought of him feeling the same way all those years sent a warmth throughout your body. The thought that you'd somehow made an impression on him sent butterflies wildly dancing in your stomach.

The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent confession echoed in Kurt's blushing cheeks and your own hammering heart. The twilight sky, ablaze in fiery hues, seemed to witness the unspoken yearning that crackled between you.

His touch, a gentle pressure on your hand, sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned in, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation – tentative at first, then deepening with a passion that mirrored the vibrant tapestry of the setting sun.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, the sweet taste of berries lingering on his tongue. Your hand reached up, tracing the contours of his face, the velvety texture of his blue fur sending shivers down your spine. He reciprocated, his touch delicate yet firm, as if afraid to break the spell.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation flowing through the press of your lips. He tasted of adventure, of something innocent but also skilled in the ways of romance. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves, momentarily pulling you apart.

"It's Kurt... my name is Kurt Wagner," he'd finally told you his name.

You gazed into Kurt's eyes, a newfound understanding blooming there. The dam holding back your emotions seemed to break.

"Kurt," you whispered, your voice thick with a desire you could no longer deny.

He responded with a low rumble in his chest, his blue fur darkening with a blush. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, teleporting you both to a deserted corner of the mansion's rooftop.

The cool night air whipped around you, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and music from the common room. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for the nascent intimacy unfolding between you.

His touch became bolder, exploring the exposed skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers trailed down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the surprising strength hidden beneath his lithe frame. Clothes became an unwelcome barrier, discarded in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.

The moonlight, a silent witness to your blossoming love, bathed your entwined forms in an ethereal glow. Passion flared like wildfire, fueled by the years of unspoken attraction and the shared trauma that had bound you together.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and stolen breaths. With each touch, each lingering kiss, the anxieties of your past faded, replaced by the promise of a future brighter than the city lights on the horizon. You'd found each other, and this time nothing would take Kurt away from you.

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part ii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,074

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing

a/n; part 2 os hockey jk!!! i hope you're enjoying this little series so far <3 please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments or in an ask! ty for reading muah

The Nook – the campus café – is bustling with students and professors when you step inside later in the afternoon. You just finished your psychology class and texted Jihyo, asking where she was. She told you to meet her at the café for late lunch at which your stomach grumbled as soon as you read her text. That granola bar you ate earlier will only get you so far before hunger returns. Your stomach grumbles again as you step closer to the counter, quickly glancing over the menu before ordering a chicken salad and an iced coffee. 

Once ready, you grab it and try to spot Jihyo inside the busy café. When you finally spot her, you frown softly – she’s sitting in the far corner with Namjoon. They really didn’t waste any time getting to work on the project. You try your best to ignore the jealousy bubbling inside of you as you make your way to their table. 

When class had ended almost immediately after the pairs were revealed, you had packed up your stuff and left the room before Jungkook could start a conversation. When Jihyo texted you about your sudden disappearance, you were already sitting in your seat in your next class. You told her you only had a 5 minute gap between classes and had to hurry there to make it – she seemed to believe your excuse and didn’t ask any further questions.

Phew.

“Hey,” she greets you with a warm smile when you sit down next to her. “How was class?”

“Boring but at least I had Minhyuk to keep me entertained,” you grumble, voice dripping with sarcasm as you unbox your salad to pour dressing over it. Before you can take your first bite, you look up at Namjoon with your best attempt of pleading puppy eyes, “Namjoon, please switch partners with me. Please!”

Both he and Jihyo look rather surprised at your sudden outburst as you stuff your face with a big bite of salad and chicken, looking more upset than ever as you wait for a response to your pleading request.

“I- um, who was your partner again?” He asks instead of just agreeing like you had hoped he would.

You sigh deeply, “... Jungkook.”

The mention of your childhood friend turned ex-friend has Namjoon shaking his head and laughing dryly as if you just told a really bad joke. You stare at him with a glare, waiting impatiently, internally praying and hoping he’ll say yes if you look miserable enough.

“I’m sorry, ____, but no, I don’t think so.”

You groan, the hints of a whine under it, “why not? You know Jihyo and I always do projects together-”

He shrugs, “as much as I feel bad for you, it’s still a no. Jungkook isn’t exactly the type of guy you wanna pair up with for projects.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “yeah, no shit. Why do you think I’m asking?”

Jihyo places a hand on your shoulder as if to calm you down. Looking at it from an outside point of view, you probably need it. 

“Come on, ____,” she chuckles, “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.”

She’s probably right – Jungkook isn’t a bad guy or anything, that much you know. He’s just that guy who cut you out of his life as soon as popularity grabbed a hold of him and made him prioritize everyone else over you. You’ve never been about that popular lifestyle so when he first gained attention from the pretty girls and the cool boys in high school, you knew the expiration date for your friendship was nearing. And as someone who hates holding grudges, you’ve been holding this exact grudge for half a decade with no plans of ending it any time soon.

“But it’s Jungkook,” you groan in frustration, “you know our history.”

She nods, “yes, I do. But maybe it’s time for both of you to move past that? It’s been 5 years already, ____.”

Despite knowing she’s right, you let out a fake laugh and return your focus to your salad. As much as you’d like to move past it, you just can’t. Jungkook really hurt you and it seems he doesn’t care so why would you spend your time and energy on him? Why should you forgive him for leaving you behind without so much as an explanation for his asshole behavior?

“Yeah, over my dead body.”

Jihyo sighs deeply in defeat while Namjoon stifles a laugh. You shoot them both an annoyed look before taking another big bite of your salad. You should’ve known Namjoon wouldn’t switch partners with you – he’s crushing on your best friend, for Christ’s sake. But still, it was worth a shot.

The three of you finish lunch in the matter of 30 minutes before you have to be at yet another class. They share their next class and you’re on your own once again, dragging yourself to class.

Luckily, this class is the last one for today.

Once you locate the classroom and find a seat, you get settled and ready for the class to start. You’re browsing around on your laptop when a text suddenly appears in the right upper corner of the screen. The fact that you receive a text isn’t that exciting or out of place but the person sending it certainly is. 

And as if one text wasn’t enough, a row of them ticks in after the first one.

[2:24 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: hey, idk if this is still your number

[2:24 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: if it is, hey ;)

[2:24 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: wanna meet up sometime this week to work on the project? 

You stare at the texts for a minute, racking your brain for all the reasons why Jeon Jungkook still has your number after all these years and then you wonder why you still have his. Also, since when does Jeon Jungkook care about doing a project? You didn’t exactly peg him to be the one encouraging school work. Although, it seems you’re taking too long to reply because he sends you another text before you have the chance to think of a reply.

This guy certainly doesn’t fear the concept of double texting. Or triple texting. No, he shamelessly texted you four times – probably without second guessing it too.

[2:25 PM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: I’ll bring iced Americano :)) if you still drink it, that is

You’re simply speechless.

all rights reserved © mercurygguk · tumblr

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / movies 𓈒✳︎🪜

[feel free to follow me on letterboxd eheh!]

✰ MARK — 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU

“maybe it was the dose of alcohol in your system, or maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline you got from the people of the party, but when you looked into mark’s eyes, you couldn’t conceal your feelings at all anymore. it was all just fun and games, you weren’t amused at all, hardly deciding on giving attention to his antics… but here we go now – you, ready to throw up, while listening to him speaking his mind, saying whatever he could think of, while the only thing that filled your brain was only one thing: kissing him. kissing him right there and then, in the crack of a night at some random’s place, both taking place at the rusty swing. should you do it? does he actually want you, or are these mere mixed signals?

✰ RENJUN — THE HOLDOVERS

“he could’ve sworn this was by far the best point of his stay at the campus – or, rather away from there, as both him and his teacher took a trip to boston, as it was all supposed to be, am i right? ice skating, searching for books on the street, deepish talks and a screening at the movie theatre… he felt happy, relieved even, but how long is this going to last him? how long can he rely on the sole feeling of relief when he cannot be so sure when it’s gonna end all so suddenly? is he selfish, or is he rather self conscious? his arm was hurting badly, aching, as he leaned back, deciding last minute about what he wants to do – “i need a bathroom break” is all he says.”

✰ JENO — FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL

“he had to rub his eyes so hardly when he spotted you, ever so beautiful and ethereal in your light pink dress, smile so charming his heart wouldn’t stop beating way too hardly against his chest. he wouldn’t have thought you two would meet ever again, but here you were – a wedding (again), which was pretty much unwanted and rushed, but he couldn’t even think about how much of a bad choice it was from his best friend to marry this early. all he could focus on was the way you softly talked to one of the guests, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you simply nodded. you only looked up for a minute, maybe two at that, but you definitely noticed jeno’s gaze on yourself. you mouthed something at him, which took him a few moments to solve properly, caught off guard by the never forgotten beauty of yours. “i missed you, jeno”

✰ HAECHAN — NOTTING HILL

“when you looked at him, barely even paying a glance, his breath instantly got taken away by the sight of you. not only because of the fact that you were a top actress, wandering into his bookshop, but because you were stunning as well, glowing, brightly shining in front of him, seemingly searching for something through the shelves, sunglasses sitting atop of your nose. he could’ve easily just take a few steps closer to you, even offer some help, but he was way too flustered to even mutter his name if you asked him. but why would that even happen, right? he’s nothing, compared to you – an angel, he cannot quite capture. and then you came up to the counter, three books in hands… well, maybe he could…”

✰ JAEMIN — BEFORE SUNRISE

“standing next to the train, which would take him to paris, he simply just looked at you, stars in eyes and blush on cheeks, as he reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the back of them ever so slowly – his forehead against yours, you could breathe in the unsaid words that were playing on his lips endlessly, and you could’ve just kissed him, kissed him once and then a thousand times more, so he would never leave. but he had to leave, leave vienna behind, leave the journey behind, leave you and the mesmerizing feeling of blooming love between the two of you. his eyes were rather teary, as you bore into them. “we have to meet here again” you said, both hands on his cheeks, eyes full of certainity. you want this, more than anything. “ten years from now – the same place, the same feelings, the…” would that happen? ever again?”

✰ CHENLE — LITTLE WOMEN

“was he actually interested in the play you wrote or not, you did not even care, as you saw the way his eyes formed such definite half moon shapes, smile so bright and wide, you’d never seen such beautiful sight. he laughed so loudly that it was echoing in the almost empty attic for way too long, as you kept on acting with your sisters, relentlessly and enthusiastically, staying in role even after you saw chenle, wiping his tears of laughter. you took it as a sign – he liked it, he enjoyed it, which was all you needed to be reassured: you did good. not only you, as the writer, but your sisters too, little actresses and primadonnas. chenle wanted to say something, he was keen on letting you know whatever was going through his mind, but he kept it to himself. maybe later, maybe on a different day – maybe when he gathers his courage to tell you he’s madly in love with you?”

✰ JISUNG — DEAD POETS SOCIETY

“with utter and undeniable admiration, jisung simply just looked up from the trembling hands of his, that were previously laying on the crumpled piece of paper he had torn out from his notebook - he wrote the poem with pencil so the letters seemed and were pretty much smudged, but he didn’t even need the paper itsel, he knew his creation by heart, as he rewrote it thousands of times because of sheer anxiety. he wanted it to be perfect, he wanted it to sound like something whitman would adore, something rilke would’ve written in those early years. when his teacher’s voice finally reached his ears, he simply stood up, legs shaking, as he walked out to the front, barely being able to form words, as the fright got over him - “do it, son, i believe in you” was all he heard - he sighed, and then… “unbeknownst to me the feeling of…”

[en-dazed]

eternal ice - park sunghoon

PAIRINGS: Sunghoon x reader

GENRE: enemies to lovers, figure skater! sunghoon and reader, angst, fluff at the end

PROMPT: in which you have to skate with sunghoon for a competition but end up getting injured together

WORD COUNT: 9105 words

WARNINGS: one scene in which the reader gets harassed kinda and mentions of (vague) injuries but it’s not detailed

A/N: let me know if you enjoyed this and if you want more <3

You were always first place. 

You were a perfectionist, painfully so. Good enough was not quite ever enough and second place couldn’t even compare to being first. In your mind, second place was the same as saying that you had failed. So you had always strived for first place - and been it too until the arrival of Park Sunghoon, the bane of your existence. Suddenly you were second, good at what you did but not the best. 

Park Sunghoon was hailed as a prodigy. ‘Ice Prince’, they called him. You scoffed at the idea of it. You had been skating for longer than he had, taken part in more competitions than he had. But as your coach had so harshly pointed out one day at practice, Sunghoon had won way more medals than you. 

“Y/N you’re glaring again.” Your coach, Jiyeon pointed out as you watched the boy you hated the most perform his routine on the ice. Sunghoon was good at what he did, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself. He was breathtaking to watch, gliding on the ice as if he was part of it. You hated him even more for being so perfect. 

You huffed in frustration, tearing your eyes away from Park Sunghoon's mesmerising performance. "I can't help it, Jiyeon," you muttered. "He's always stealing the spotlight."

Jiyeon rolled her eyes at you, used to your never ending rants about the boy who had overtaken you. “Maybe you would be in the spotlight too if you took this as a lesson and learned from him.”

You shot her a sceptical look. “Learn from him? I don’t need to learn anything from him. All I need to do is beat his ass in the upcoming competitions.” There was a fire in your voice, lit by your hatred and passion. 

Jiyeon sighed, her eyes filled with a mix of frustration and determination. "Y/N, listen to me. Hatred and rivalry will only take you so far. If you want to truly surpass Park Sunghoon, you need to find a way to grow as a skater, not just compete against him."

She stepped closer, her voice gentle yet firm. "You need to break free from the confines of your comfort zone. Push yourself beyond your limits. Take risks, explore new techniques, and infuse your performances with your own unique style."

You hesitated, considering her words. Jiyeon had always been a guiding force in your skating journey, and her advice had never led you astray before. Perhaps it was time to heed her guidance and embrace a new approach. 

“What do you suggest I do then?” You asked sincerely. 

Jiyeon grinned, a mischievous look on her face that made you suspicious. “You’ll see,” She made her way out of the audience, moving towards the exit. “Don’t forget your pair skating practice tomorrow!” She yelled out before leaving. 

Your pair skate was with a guy you met only once, some Lee Chan that had taken part only in domestic competitions so far. He was good at skating - great even, but he lacked confidence. You had one day of practice with him already and he had been so nervous and shy around you that you almost got frustrated with him. 

But as Jiyeon had reminded you, it was his first ever pair skate and his first ever international competition as well. 

“Cut the boy some slack, he just needs more practice to build up his confidence,” Jiyeon had scolded you. “You were like him too once.”

You knew she was right but you couldn’t help but dread the long day ahead as you laced up your skates, waiting for both Jiyeon and Chan to show up. 

But when the doors of the skate rink opened and Jiyeon came in, she was not followed by Chan but by Park Sunghoon. 

The familiar anger bubbled up in your stomach at the sight of Sunghoon and you shot a pointed look at Jiyeon. 

“What’s he doing here?” Your voice came out much more harshly than you had intended it to. 

Jiyeon gave you a look that you knew all too well. Behave yourself. 

“Sunghoon is going to be your new partner for the routine.” Jiyeon explained and you were sure your ears were playing tricks on you because there’s no way she had said that right? 

“But what happened to Chan?” You asked, not quite sure you knew exactly what was going on. 

Jiyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Chan stepped down. Seems like he’s not quite ready to go international yet. Sunghoon was chosen as your replacement.”

A whirlwind of emotions passed through you - confusion, frustration and apprehension. The idea of skating with Park Sunghoon had never crossed your mind. You had accepted his presence on ice but the thought of skating with him in an international competition? You thought you were going to faint. 

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” Sunghoon finally spoke up, extending his hand out to you. You were startled at his voice and it was then you realised that you had never even had a conversation with him before. 

You wordlessly took the hand he had given you, shaking it once before dropping it as if he had burned you. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your pride and tried to find the silver lining in the unexpected turn of events. Perhaps this could be a chance for growth, the chance to take risks and push yourself as Jiyeon had told you to do so. 

You would go into this with an open mind. 

… or perhaps you wouldn’t. 

“Y/N! That’s the third time you’ve messed up that move! Get it together.” Jiyeon snapped at you from across the rink as you glided to a stop beside Sunghoon. 

You clenched your fists, feeling the sting of Jiyeon's words. She was right; you were off your game. The frustration of having Park Sunghoon as your partner was getting to you.

Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with Sunghoon. To his credit, he hadn’t said a single word every time you messed up. Sunghoon was annoyingly nice about your shortcomings and you hated it. 

“Let's try it again," you said, your voice firm but devoid of the previous hostility. You pushed aside your animosity and focused on the ice beneath your feet, on the rhythm and flow that connected you both.

As the music began, you and Sunghoon launched into the routine. It started tentatively, with small missteps and slight imbalances. But you powered through until you got to the climax, the part that you kept messing up over and over again. The part where you had to trust Sunghoon to lift you into the air and rotate while holding you in place. You had done it before and it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t execute. It was your partner that had you so unnerved that you couldn’t attempt the lift and had changed the move instead, every time you had practised. 

You took a deep breath before you skated towards Sunghoon, fully preparing yourself to be lifted. You would make it, you would make it, you… wouldn’t make it. Halfway through you hesitated for just a second. A second of hesitance that threw off your timing. A second of hesitance that threw off Sunghoon as well. 

As the lift faltered, panic surged through your veins. You felt yourself losing balance, the ground coming closer with each passing moment. Instinctively, Sunghoon's arms tightened around you, trying to regain control, but it was too late. You crashed onto the ice with a thud, the impact jarring your entire body. 

Pain shot through your limbs, and for a moment, everything went silent. You could hear your own ragged breaths and a loud scream as Jiyeon hurriedly skated towards you both. 

“Are you both okay?” Those were the words that made you realise you were lying on top of Sunghoon. 

Your eyes widened in shock as you quickly scrambled to push yourself off of Sunghoon, the weight of the situation sinking in. The sudden movement caused a sharp pain to go through your leg and the panic that set in was immediate. 

“Jiyeon my leg…” You said at the same time as Sunghoon groaned in pain, clutching his arm. 

Jiyeon knelt down beside you, her eyes filled with concern as she assessed the situation. "Stay still, both of you. I think we have to call the medical team for help.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the wave of pain that shot through your leg. Sunghoon winced, his arm visibly injured. Jiyeon left, rushing to her phone to make the call.

Sunghoon didn’t say a single word, the both of you sitting on the ice in silence. 

Until - “How do you mess up such a simple lift?” Sunghoon was angry. 

You felt the same anger bubble up in you. “Me?! You were the one that dropped me!”

Sunghoon's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw tightly. "If you had trusted me and followed through with the lift instead of hesitating, we wouldn't be in this situation."

His words stung, fueling your frustration further. "You expect me to trust someone I barely know? You think I'm just supposed to put my life in your hands without hesitation?” You crossed your arms in vexation. “Some gold medal winner you are.” You muttered under your breath. 

From the corner of your eyes you saw Sunghoon react, the annoyance in his eyes as he looked at you but you didn’t get to hear what he had to say. The medical staff burst in at that moment, distracting you both momentarily as they attended to your injuries. 

For a moment you both forgot your irritation at each other. 

Whatever the doctor had said after he had dropped the bomb on you went over your head. You listened absentmindedly before you interrupted him. 

“Did you say four weeks? As in one month?” Your voice was desperate. 

The doctor nodded sympathetically, understanding the shock and disappointment that washed over you. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Given the extent of the injuries and the need for proper healing and rehabilitation, it would be best for both of you to refrain from any intense physical activity, including skating, for at least four weeks."

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest. Four weeks seemed like an eternity, especially considering the international competition that was looming so close. The competition was in two months time and cutting out one whole month of practice - evidently much needed practice, from how disastrous today had gone - could be the difference between a win and a loss. 

The doctor continued as if he hadn’t just thrown you into emotional turmoil. “Now, I gave the same advice to your partner. We have some excellent physical therapists in this hospital and I recommend that the both of you go everyday until you regain strength in your muscles. It should help you heal faster as well so from how I see it, you should be able to go back to skating after a month.”

At the mention of Sunghoon, guilt washed over you. You knew that it was because of you that he had gotten injured. You knew that if you had not messed up the timing, he would’ve caught you. It was the guilt that had you asking the doctor how Sunghoon was doing. 

The doctor smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, your partner is fine. No broken bones and nothing that can't be fixed without some perseverance. It's not serious but physical therapy is still required.” 

Relief flooded through you as you heard that Sunghoon's injuries weren't severe. It wasn’t that you were worried about him. You just couldn’t have him breaking a bone be on your conscience. 

The relief was short-lived. You slowly processed the doctor's words. “Wait. Are you saying we have to go to physical therapy together?” You asked, hoping beyond hope that the answer was no. 

Unfortunately the doctor seemed determined to not give you any good news today because he nodded at your question. “We have one physical therapist who specialises in rehabilitating athletes. Your appointments will be with him together.” 

You felt a mix of emotions as the reality sunk in. You would be going to physical therapy with Sunghoon, everyday for a month. For a month, you were stuck with someone you couldn’t stand and you knew the feelings were mutual from the way he had glared at you in the hospital waiting room. 

Jiyeon wasn’t very sympathetic. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you two just learned to work together.” 

You sighed as she scolded you throughout the whole drive home. 

“I mean, is it so difficult to just be professionals about this? You two have been competing professionally for years now. Act like it!” 

You decided to pretend you couldn’t hear her. 

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” Jiyeon was getting more annoyed by the second. 

Jiyeon's voice grew more exasperated as she repeated your name, but you continued to stare out of the car window, lost in your own world. 

Jiyeon soon gave up, an irritated look on her face as she drove. You felt bad but you really didn’t want to discuss this with her. You were already kicking yourself over how things had turned out and you didn’t need Jiyeon to tell you that the both of you getting injured was quite honestly, your fault. You closed your eyes, dread filling you at the thought of your joint appointment with Sunghoon tomorrow. 

So much for going into this with an open mind. 

When you went into the waiting room for your appointment the next day, hobbling along on crutches, Sunghoon was already there. His arm was in a sling and his expression was unreadable as he looked at you. It unnerved you so you decided to ignore him. 

Taking a seat at a distance, you occupied yourself with a magazine, feigning interest in its contents while stealing occasional glances at Sunghoon. You could sense his gaze on you, but you refused to meet it, afraid of what you might find within those eyes.

The physical therapist, a Mr. Kim, greeted you both as soon as he entered. Once in the treatment room, he outlined a series of stretching and strengthening activities that would aid in your recovery. As he explained, you couldn't help but steal occasional glances at Sunghoon, who seemed equally determined to avoid eye contact.

If Mr. Kim noticed the tension between you both, he didn’t mention it. The both of you began your exercises in separate corners of the room, determined to get through the day without acknowledging each other. You tried to focus on your own movements, trying to shut out the presence of Sunghoon. 

“There you go,” Mr. Kim smiled delightedly as you correctly completed the exercise he had set out for you. “You’re both getting the hang of it now. I have to step out for a little bit but help each other and take turns doing the exercises - don’t overdo it, you need rest as well.” 

As Mr. Kim stepped out of the room, leaving you and Sunghoon alone, an awkward silence filled the air. It was clear that neither of you wanted to be the first to break it. You took a deep breath, considering your options. Despite the tension, Mr. Kim's words lingered in your mind — "help each other."

Swallowing your pride, you decided to take the initiative. "Sunghoon, why don't we alternate doing the exercises? It might make the session go by faster," you suggested, keeping your voice as neutral as possible.

He didn’t even look at you when you spoke and you were slightly annoyed at how he ignored you but then - he moved closer to you. He nodded without looking and even when he spoke, his eyes were on the walls. “Sure.”

His guarded voice puts you on edge as well. But despite the tense situation you decided that you weren’t going to let Park Sunghoon let your recovery slow down so you decided to start your own set as Sunghoon watched wordlessly. 

The exercise Mr. Kim had taught you required you to stand, which was now a difficult task for you. There was a mild pain in your leg as you moved and you bit your lip to hold in a whimper of pain. You couldn’t show weakness in front of Sunghoon. 

Your efforts were futile, however, when a wrong misstep caused a sharp pain to go through your leg and you lost your balance. You let out a surprised shout and your eyes closed as you braced for impact but none came. Instead, you were suddenly aware of an arm wrapped around your waist, that was holding you up and keeping you steady. 

You opened your eyes to find Sunghoon standing close to you, his uninjured arm securely supporting you. His face remained impassive, but you couldn't deny the concern that flickered in his eyes.

"Steady now," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You felt the back of your neck heat up in embarrassment. A whispered thank you escaped your lips as you pushed his arm away, slowly balancing yourself once more. For a minute, the tension between the both of you seemed to dissipate. You found yourself wondering if he truly wasn’t all that bad…

“I told you I can catch you.” 

Sunghoon’s words were meant to get on your nerves and it did. When Mr. Kim came back not long after, you were both once more on opposite sides of the room. 

Before you knew it, three weeks of your physical therapy was up. You could feel your muscles getting stronger, the pain decreasing little by little. You had abandoned the crutches at the start of the third week and could now walk with little to no pain. Mr. Kim had been ecstatic at the progress that you made. 

Since the first appointment you hadn’t talked to Sunghoon. You arrived at your appointments at the same time as him and yet you kept to yourself. Neither of you bothered to acknowledge each other and Mr. Kim long gave up trying to get the both of you to work together. In the back of your mind you knew that you would have to practise with Sunghoon again eventually. But eventually can wait because for now, you had no interest in talking to Sunghoon. 

Not talking to him didn’t mean that you didn’t observe him. 

At times when Sunghoon was too focused on his exercises, your eyes would wander to him in curiosity. You weren’t interested in him, you told yourself. You still had some guilt over the accident and you just wanted to make sure he was making as much progress as you were. Unfortunately, it was clear that Sunghoon was struggling. 

“Okay, let’s take a break now, shall we?” Mr. Kim stopped Sunghoon in the middle of his set and from the corner of your eyes you saw the way his eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. He clenched his arms and looked at it, the defeat on his face evident. Mr. Kim contined to talk - something about how it takes time to build up your strength and that he shouldn’t get discouraged. You were sure Sunghoon didn’t hear a word of what he said. 

When the session ended you rushed out, eager to get home. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side, however, for sometime in between when you had come in for your appointment and the end of it, a torrential downpour had started. As you stepped outside the rehabilitation center, the heavy rain greeted you, drenching everything in its path.

You cursed yourself for not remembering to bring an umbrella despite your mother’s warnings that it might rain today. Getting wet and walking in the rain in discomfort was not very appealing to you so you stood in the shelter of the building, watching the skies and hoping that it would clear up soon. 

You were there for a good five minutes before Sunghoon stepped out. His face was still etched with the frustration of the day and his expression turned even darker at the sight of the rain - or was it at you?

He didn’t say a word as he approached you and you noticed an umbrella in his hand. Sunghoon was clearly smarter than you to have thought ahead. You watched as he struggled to open the umbrella will one hand, occasionally trying to use his injured hand as well but giving up when he just couldn’t muster up the strength. You watched for just a second longer before you sighed. 

“Give me that.” 

Sunghoon seemed startled at your voice and maybe it was the shock that you had actually talked to him that made him let you take the umbrella from his hands. With a swift motion, you popped it open and handed it back to him. 

He took it from you with a whispered thanks and looked at the path in front of him. You expected him to leave but he didn’t. He stood next to you with an expression on his face that you didn’t recognize. He seemed to contemplate for a while before he spoke to you. 

“Are you waiting for someone?”

You shook your head no. 

A pause. 

“ Would you like to share the umbrella with me?”

It was a simple offer, a gesture that you wouldn’t think much of if someone else had offered it to you. But this was Park Sunghoon, someone who hated you and you hated in return. You should’ve said no. 

And yet, when he stepped out into the rain and waited for you to follow him - you did. 

As the two of you walked under the umbrella, a silence settled between you once again. The pitter-patter of raindrops against the umbrella created a soothing rhythm, creating a momentary respite from the outside world. You could feel Sunghoon's eyes on you, his unreadable gaze shifting between the rain-soaked surroundings and your face.

"I... I didn't expect you to help," he finally spoke, his voice laced with surprise and a hint of gratitude. 

“Why? I’m not that heartless.”

“You don’t like me.” 

He said it as if it was a fact and for a split second you felt ashamed at how you had treated him. 

“I’m sorry,” You muttered. “For your injury and for… messing up the lift.”

Sunghoon glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. "It's not entirely your fault. We both made mistakes," he replied, his voice tinged with something you didn’t quite understand. 

As the rain continued to pour, the weight of the past seemed to hang in the air between you. The tension that had once defined your interactions slowly gave way to a fragile connection, as if the shared vulnerability brought about by the accident had opened a door for empathy and forgiveness.

"I was angry," Sunghoon admitted, his voice filled with honesty. “We met for the first time and you looked at me as if you wanted me dead. You looked at me as if you would rather do anything other than have me be your partner,” A laugh escaped him, devoid of any emotion. “Am I really that bad of a skater?”

His question threw you off. 

“No,” You answered honestly. “It was never about that. I just…”

The shame that had welled up in you was now threatening to spill over. You didn’t really have a good reason to hate him. In all honesty, Sunghoon had never done anything wrong. 

Sunghoon was silent before he spoke again. “I respected you, you know. I thought you were one of the best figure skaters in the world. I looked up to you.”

“But then you treated me like I was beneath you and it felt like the image I had of you shattered. You couldn’t even trust me to lift you, such a simple move and we crashed instead.”

You listened to Sunghoon's words, his voice heavy with disappointment and hurt. His perspective shed light on a side of the story you hadn't fully considered before. Your own preconceptions of him had clouded your judgement when you met him and now, you weren’t quite sure if your judgement had been correct. 

"I'm sorry," you said again, your voice sincere. 

“Before you showed up I would win the gold at every competition. Every tournament, every performance, every single time. I loved it. I loved the feeling of being a star. I loved the feeling of being number one. But then you came.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you spoke. 

“Suddenly it was Park Sunghoon that would win the gold at every competition. I was now silver. You shone brighter than me and something in me cracked at the thought that you could take away something I had worked so hard for in such a short instance.” Your voice was laced with vulnerability. 

You couldn’t understand why you were telling him all of this. At the end of the day, Sunghoon was your competitor, your rival. But here you were, pouring your heart out for him as if he would understand. From the look on his face, you had a feeling that he did understand. 

“I never meant to take anything away from you.”

“I know.” 

And that was it. You couldn’t help the regret that enveloped you. How could you have treated him so badly when he didn’t even do anything wrong? When his only crime was chasing his own dreams?

“Your leg is better.” His words interrupted your thoughts. 

“Yeah. Mr. Kim said I made a lot of progress.” You couldn’t help the smile that escaped you, proud of the work that you had put in. Sunghoon noticed it. Absent-mindedly, he thought that you should smile more often. He kept that thought to himself. 

“What about you?” You asked him, something akin to pity in your eyes. 

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and you had a feeling that he didn’t want to talk about it. Even now, his injured arm lay limp at his side. You noticed how he would move his fingers occasionally, clenching and unclenching his fist. You were about to tell him that he didn’t have to answer. It was alright, recovery takes time, you were going to tell him. But he spoke before you could. 

“I feel like I’m stuck,” He was looking at his arm now. “I tried so hard. I did everything they asked. I followed what Mr. Kim said, exactly the way he said. But for some reason, I just can’t seem to go back to the way I was before. I managed to get the sling off but I haven’t made any progress since and I’m not even sure if I can do the pair skate at this rate.”

The weight of his words hung in the air and you felt empathy for the boy building up in you - an emotion you didn’t think you would ever feel for him. 

“You can’t give up.” You surprised yourself with what you said. “We have to do the pair skate together. If we do it together then I’m sure we’ll win.” 

You stopped suddenly and Sunghoon followed, not wanting to let the rain pour over you. He was shocked, you could tell. 

“If I have to do this with someone else and I get second place again, I will personally make sure that you break your other arm as well.” You said fiercely. 

Sunghoon's eyes widened at your sudden determination and the intensity in your words. He stared at you, speechless for a moment, before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Alright," he said, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Let's do it together then. Let's win that gold. And if we don’t then I’ll personally let you break both of my arms.”

Something had shifted between you two. As if the rain had somehow washed away your resentment for each other, drop by drop, you found yourself looking forward to working with Sunghoon. 

Slowly, you walked side by side under the shelter of the umbrella, shoulders touching occasionally but you didn’t seem to mind. 

“By the way… where do you live?”

You took Mr. Kim by surprise when, at your next appointment, you offered to help Sunghoon with his set. Fortunately, he didn’t say anything, simply choosing to move away to let you stand next to Sunghoon instead. 

Sunghoon lets you correct his posture. He lets you time him, he lets you support him. You even provided encouragement to him when he seemed to falter. The tension between you two had given way to a growing sense of cooperation and trust. 

When he messed up, you didn’t make a snarky remark like you would’ve before. During one particular exercise, you gently touched Sunghoon's injured arm to assist him in maintaining proper form. He didn't pull away or protest. The animosity that once filled the air between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a shared focus on Sunghoon's recovery.

Mr. Kim clapped his hands in delight when the session was over, remarking on how well the both of you had done that day. 

“Thank you,” Sunghoon had given you a genuine smile as you both went outside together. “I honestly feel as if today was more effective than these three weeks all together.” He admitted. 

“Don’t mention it, Park,” You smiled back at him in response. “We still have a competition to win.”

In the following days you continued to support each other’s development. Sunghoon’s determination remained unwavering, fueled by your encouragement and a desire to skate together with you, just as you had said. 

And soon, before you knew it, the last week was up. 

“Alright! You guys have done exceptionally well,” Mr. Kim praised you both at the end of your last session. “Especially you, Sunghoon. You made such a dramatic improvement in the last week. I’m honestly very impressed.”

His words brought a smile to Sunghoon’s face and even you felt a glimmer of pride. Sunghoon really had stepped up last week and within just a few days, he had regained control of the arm that he could barely use just a week ago. You had no doubt that he would be able to lift you with his now fully functional arm. 

“We should celebrate.” Sunghoon said, as the both of you walked home together. It had become routine for the last few days, once the both of you had realised that you lived quite close by. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be walking home with Sunghoon and actually enjoying it, you would’ve laughed in their face. But lately, you came to realise that you actually liked his presence. 

“Celebrate what?”

“The end of our physical therapy. We can go back to skating now, Y/N. Aren’t you excited?” 

You smiled - his enthusiasm felt contagious. You came to know that Sunghoon really really loved skating. You both had a special place in your heart for it and you admired his drive for it. 

“I am excited. But maybe we should perfect our routine before we start to celebrate. We have only one month left.” You were already stressed just thinking about it. 

“Alright then,” Sunghoon smiled mischievously. “If we can perfect that lift before the competition then you have to promise me that you’ll go get ice cream with me as a celebration.”

You laughed. “Only the lift? What about when we win the competition?” 

Sunghoon’s was confident when he replied. “We don’t need an incentive for the competition. We will win.”

Something about his confidence made your heart skip a beat. Were you sick? You chose to ignore it. 

Except, your heart didn’t stop acting up. 

The next time your heart skipped a beat would be at your first practice after recovery. When you walked in, you noticed that Sunghoon had arrived before you and was already on the ice. You almost called out to him. Almost. 

Something made you stop and watch in wonder as he skated around the rink, lost in the motions and graceful movements. The way he glided effortlessly, his focus solely on the ice beneath his skates, captivated you. But it was his face that truly mesmerised you. At all the performances you had seen Sunghoon at, you focused on his movements. You judged his performance, the way he slid across the ice, his twists and turns. You had never looked at his face. Watching him now, you wished that you had looked at him sooner. 

Sunghoon looked serene. He looked every bit like the ice prince that they called him - he looked ethereal. The look on his face was one of peace, of true love for the ice and pure joy to be skating. And as you watched, you felt it happen again. 

Your heart skipped another beat. 

You told yourself you were imagining it. Perhaps the skate rink was much too cold. Perhaps you were starting to get sick. Maybe you were about to get a heart attack. You came up with any and every excuse you could for why your heart kept skipping beats when Sunghoon was around. 

The fluttering in your chest didn’t stop. In fact, when Jiyeon finally came and your practice together started, it got worse. The day you had both gotten injured, you had been so caught up in your own emotions that you haven't paid much attention to Sunghoon. Now, he was the only thing that you could focus on. 

He skated with a purpose, becoming one with the ice and the music. When he skated next to you, you became entranced. Sunghoon looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. The chemistry was undeniable. You complemented each other’s movements as if you could read the other's mind. The world melted away and it was just you and Sunghoon and the ice. 

The music built up, the climax approaching. This time you didn’t hesitate. When you leaped into the air with Sunghoon holding you up, you felt free. Sunghoon held onto you tightly. You had no doubt that he would. 

He lowered you down, your legs wrapped around his waist and for a split second you allowed yourself to look into his eyes. In that moment you felt your heart flutter once more. The realisation hits you like a tidal wave—your heart skipping beats was not a coincidence or a figment of your imagination. Your heart really and truly was skipping beats for Park Sunghoon. 

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t read, a fierceness that surprised you. When the music faded and you both came to a graceful halt, the silence that followed was charged with a newfound tension. He was staring at you with an intensity that made you feel like you would melt under his gaze. 

When Jiyeon approached, she broke the spell that had enveloped you both. 

“You did great! I’m surprised that that was just the first practice,” Jiyeon was beaming from ear to ear. “I didn’t think we’d be able to bounce back from that horrible start but I’m glad you two managed to work it out. Your chemistry together is incredible!”

You found yourself blushing at her words. If you had looked, you would’ve seen that even Sunghoon had turned red. 

“Thanks, Jiyeon," you managed to say, your voice slightly shaky. "We've been working really hard."

Jiyeon nodded enthusiastically. "It definitely shows. I have a good feeling about our chances in the competition."

You ran through the routine a couple times more before the day ended. You tried not to look into Sunghoon’s eyes in case you faltered again. So when he approached you at the end of the practice, you avoided his eyes once more. 

“Y/N,” He ran up to you as you walked towards the door. The only response you could muster was a silent ‘hmm’. 

“We did the lift today. You promised that we could get ice cream.” He grinned at you. 

You felt your stomach churn at the idea of more time with Sunghoon. You didn’t quite understand the new feelings that seemed to bubble up whenever he was around and you didn’t want to understand it. 

So you shook your head no. “I can’t. I'm too tired now.” 

And before Sunghoon could react, you left. 

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. After the first practice, you made sure to keep your distance from Sunghoon. You didn’t like how your heart would react when he looked at you or the way it sped up when he would hold you during the routine. But you ignored it. You shoved down whatever feelings you had that you didn’t even have a name for, deep down where it wouldn’t surface again. 

You ignored Sunghoon. Whenever he attempted to make conversation you would reply shortly in a cold tone. You felt bad the first time you had walked away when Sunghoon had approached you to talk, the look on his face as you walked away leaving you wondering if this was really the best way to deal with it. But you didn’t know how to deal with it. At the end of the day, when the pair skate was over, you two would compete against each other once more. You couldn’t have your new found feelings - whatever they were - distract you from striving to overcome him. 

And in no time at all, the competition loomed over you. 

Sunghoon had given up trying to talk to you. You expected to feel happy about it but a part of you felt… well, lonely. You had grown used to his presence throughout the two months you had spent together and despite knowing that it was you who had pushed him away, you couldn’t help feeling a bit dejected. 

It was especially lonely when you arrived at the competition held away from home, surrounded by people from all over the world. You were out of place here, a stranger. The only piece of home was Jiyeon and Sunghoon and one of those two people would no longer approach you. 

You tried to brush off the feeling, reminding yourself of your determination to focus solely on the competition. This was not the time to wallow in self pity. 

On the day of rehearsals, you came to the skate rink alone. You wore the outfit that Jiyeon had chosen, a brilliant midnight blue dress that sparkled like the stars. You knew Sunghoon had gotten a matching outfit but you hadn’t seen him wear it. 

As you laced up your skates you felt someone loom over you. 

“Hey, you’re really pretty. You’re in the pair skate aren’t you? I could help you practise if you want.”

You turned around, slightly startled by the unexpected voice. Standing before you was a young man, unfamiliar to you. You recognized him as one of the skaters from another country, a Daniel something. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. You expected him to leave but the guy was persistent. 

“C’mon don’t be like that. I could help you out. In more ways than one.” The sleazy look he gave you made you shiver and panic welled up inside you. 

“I really don’t need any help.” You made an effort to keep your voice from shaking. 

The stranger's sleazy expression wavered for a moment, but he persisted, leaning in closer. "Come on, babe. I've got some great moves to show you. You won't regret it."

Your heart raced, and a surge of anxiety coursed through your veins. This was not the kind of attention you wanted or needed, especially in such a vulnerable setting. Taking a step back, you spoke more assertively, your voice tinged with a hint of warning.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. Please respect my decision and leave me alone."

Just as you were growing increasingly anxious, a familiar voice called out from behind you. “She told you to beat it, Daniel.”

Sunghoon appeared from behind you, a protective arm wrapping around your shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. At the sight of him, you felt a huge wave of relief wash over you. 

Daniel glanced between you and Sunghoon, something like realisation setting in. With a scoff, he muttered something under his breath and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone, Sunghoon dropped the arm on your shoulder. You felt the absence immediately, the loss of the warmth making you shiver. 

“Thank you.” He gave you a curt nod in response. Sunghoon’s face was guarded. With a sinking feeling, you realised that him intervening did not mean that things were back to normal. 

“Sunghoon-“

“You don’t have to speak to me,” He cut you off. “It’s clear you don’t want anything to do with me so you don’t have to thank me. I only helped because I thought you needed it. I won’t bother you again.” His voice was cold. 

You felt a pang of regret as Sunghoon's words echoed in your ears. You reached out, wanting to explain, but he took a step back, his gaze avoiding yours.

“Sunghoon, please listen to me," you pleaded, your voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted things to end up like this.

His smile was sarcastic. “That’s what you always say isn’t it? I didn’t mean it. It was never like that. I never wanted this. You say all that and for a moment it’s like you don’t mind my company, almost like you enjoy spending time with me. For just a moment I thought that you might even like me,” He let out a hollow laugh. “Guess I’m the fool because while I was falling for you, you were planning your escape from me.”

Sunghoon didn’t wait for a response. You weren’t even sure you could give a response. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched Sunghoon turn away, his words piercing through your heart. The pain and hurt in his voice were unbearable, and you desperately wanted to reach out to him, to make him understand the truth.

But how could you explain something that even you didn't fully comprehend until now? How could you explain that he wasn’t the only one who had been falling?

There were four hours left before the competition started and you were crying in your room. Jiyeon had waited outside your room for ages, knocking and begging you to open the door. Eventually, she had given up. You had promised her that you'd show up when the time came. That was all you could muster up the courage to tell her. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you could go through with it. To go out there and skate with Sunghoon as if nothing had happened, as if your heart wasn’t broken into pieces with no fault but your own. You hadn’t seen him since he had confessed. Not that you had even left your room since then. The tears that had started to fall back then seemed never-ending. You didn’t know that a person could cry so hard and that your heart could ache so much. 

As the time ticked away, you found yourself trapped in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to find the strength to face the reality before you. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, and the weight of your actions weighed heavily on your heart.

The sound of a gentle knock on the door roused you from your thoughts. Jiyeon's voice reached you, muffled yet filled with concern. "Please, just open the door. We're running out of time, and I'm worried about you."

You ignored it. 

She begged you to open the door, begged you to tell her what was wrong but you didn’t budge. For a while, the sounds behind the door went silent and you wondered if Jiyeon had given up again. But then, another voice came through the door. 

“Open the door Y/N.”

You recognized the voice instantly and you felt yourself crumble just a little bit more. A part of you wanted to open the door, to see his face and find solace in his presence. But another part of you feared the pain and vulnerability that awaited on the other side. 

There was a pause before he spoke again, this time so quietly you could barely hear him. “Please.”

And your willpower was gone. You rose up from bed to open the door. It was only when the door swung open that you remembered you probably looked like a mess. Your tear- stained face, pyjamas that you didn’t have the strength to get out of and messy hair probably looked like a sight. It was a shock when you saw that Sunghoon didn’t look much better. 

Sunghoon looked dishevelled. His eyes were tired, surrounded by dark circles that rivalled your own. The pain and vulnerability reflected in his eyes mirrored your own, and in that instant, all the walls and barriers you had erected around yourself crumbled.

Without saying a word, Sunghoon stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

“What are you doing Y/N.” His voice was soft. 

You didn’t answer his question, not knowing what he was asking. 

He let out a shaky breath. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered. 

He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers grazing against your tear-stained cheek. The tender touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into it, seeking comfort in his presence.

“One day you’re telling me that you wouldn’t do this routine with anyone other than me. Next, you’re ignoring me while I try to talk to you. You’re hot and cold and I never know what to expect from you.” 

He was pleading now. “Please tell me I didn’t imagine what I felt on the ice with you that day. Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

He took your hand in his, softly putting it over his heart. “I know you hate me Y/N. But can’t you see what you do to me?” 

His heart raced under your touch. His words cut through the silence, laying bare his confusion, pain, and longing. 

You felt the tears threatening to fall again. “Sunghoon, I don’t hate you. I mean, I did but I don’t now. I hate how you make me feel. I hate how my heart seems to float whenever you’re near me. I hate the way my stomach fills with butterflies when you’re around. I hate the way my breath quickens when you touch me. Most of all, I hate how vulnerable you make me.” Your voice wavered, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

Sunghoon's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of remorse and understanding. 

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He murmured. 

Your voice was barely audible when you continued. “You never did. I brought that upon myself. Despite how hard I tried to push you away, you’re always on my mind. It’s terrifying how much of my mind you had taken over in such a short period of time.” 

Sunghoon’s hands tightened around yours, still pressed to his chest. A silence settled between you two, heavy with emotion. 

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly. “When we win… can I kiss you?”

His question caught you off guard and you felt your heartbeat quicken. Under your hand, you could feel that Sunghoon’s heartbeat matched your rhythm. 

Wordlessly you nodded yes. That was all Sunghoon needed. He breathed a sigh of relief, a genuine smile now spreading on his face. 

“Go get ready. We have a competition to win.”

And for the first time since the rehearsal day, you smiled. 

Mercifully, Jiyeon didn’t ask you any questions when you finally emerged out of your room in your outfit. She didn’t even say anything when Sunghoon grabbed hold of your hand as you walked towards the skate rink (although she did raise her eyebrow at you). You were glad she didn’t ask you anything because you honestly didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even have the energy for it, the emotional turmoil of the past few days had tired you out. You wanted to save your energy for the competition. 

Sunghoon looked dazzling in his matching midnight blue outfit. You couldn’t help but peak glances at him, blushing when he caught you in the act. Sunghoon thought you looked gorgeous and didn’t hesitate to tell you so as well. 

The competition started on record time and in the blink of an eye, it was time for you and Sunghoon to skate. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon whispered to you before you both got on the ice. “I really really like you Y/N.” 

Your face was bright red when the spotlight shifted over to you and you mentally cursed Sunghoon for telling you that right before you had to be under the spotlight. You hoped the audience didn’t notice. 

The music soon started, the familiar notes that you had practised echoing through the place. As the music enveloped the rink, you and Sunghoon synchronised your movements, seamlessly gliding across the ice. The routine you had practised countless times now took on a new meaning, infused with the raw emotions and unspoken words that hung in the air between you.

With each graceful leap, each intricate spin, and each delicate touch, you poured your heart and soul into the performance. The audience watched in awe as the chemistry between you and Sunghoon radiated, a tangible connection that transcended the boundaries of the ice rink.

The routine progressed flawlessly, the tension and anticipation building as you approached the climax. The choreography seemed to reflect the journey of your relationship, with moments of tender closeness and fleeting glances that spoke volumes. The lift that you had once been so scared of, was performed flawlessly. The look in Sunghoon’s eyes as he held you was one of pure adoration and you wondered if you looked the same. 

As the final notes of the music echoed, you and Sunghoon stood face to face, breathing heavily but exhilarated. The crowd erupted into applause and you could swear you heard Jiyeon even through the loud crowd. 

With a mix of exhaustion and elation, you and Sunghoon skated off the ice, hand in hand, basking in the afterglow of the performance. As soon as you were off the ice you turned towards him. 

“I really really like you too Sunghoon.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “I know.”

As you both awaited the judges' scores, Jiyeon rushed over, her face beaming with pride. "That was incredible, you two! You completely captivated the audience! I'm so proud of you!"

You smiled at Jiyeon's words, grateful for her unwavering support. Sunghoon squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with admiration and affection.

Soon, you were both asked to return back to the ice. The scores were announced, and the tension reached its peak. 

“And the top scorers for the night and our gold medal winnders are… Y/N L/N and Park Sunghoon!”

A surge of emotions washed over you but before you could react to them, you felt an arm around your waist and suddenly you were pressed against Sunghoon. Before you could react, he pulled you closer, pushing his lips on yours. The touch of his lips on yours made a jolt of electricity travel through your body. Unconsciously, your hands moved to wrap around his neck, pushing him even closer to you. In the back of your head, you knew that the audience was going wild at the sudden act unfolding in front of them. At any other time, you would’ve been embarrassed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you kissed Sunghoon with an urgency that surprised even yourself. 

When you finally parted, breathless and gazing into each other's eyes, the world around you came rushing back. The crowd's cheers and applause filled the air, reminding you that you were not alone in this moment of bliss. You felt the heat creeping up to your face as the commentator made a joke about the two lovebirds. But when Sunghoon grabbed your hand in his, none of the outside world mattered. 

“Can you two stop making out for one second?” Jiyeon’s exasperated voice made you break away from Sunghoon. His arms remained wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Your rolled your eyes at Jiyeon. “Can’t I spend some time with my boyfriend when we’re taking a break?” You pouted. 

“Your break ended 15 minutes ago!”

You looked at the timer Jiyeon had set out on the floor. “Oops.”

You couldn't help but giggle at Jiyeon's exasperation, feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment. Sunghoon's laughter only added to the lightheartedness of the moment.

“And you,” Jiyeon pointed at Sunghoon, shooting a glare at him. “Why are you here? Don’t forget you’re competing against her now, not with her. Stop distracting my protégé.” She complained. 

Sunghoon held up his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sorry, Jiyeon. I couldn’t resist coming to see my girlfriend. But I promise I won’t distract her any longer.”

You gave Sunghoon a playful nudge, trying to suppress your smile. "See, Jiyeon? He knows his place now."

Jiyeon rolled her eyes, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Fine, fine. Just make sure you're both focused when you step back on the ice. We have a competition to win."

“Not if I win it first.” Sunghoon escaped the playful punch you aimed at him, laughing out loud. 

“In your dreams Park. I won’t go easy on you just cause you’re cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” He teased. 

“Enough!” Jiyeon yelled, covering her eyes at the sight of you two flirting. 

Sunghoon gave you another quick kiss before he ran away laughing in joy. You basked in the glow of it all before Jiyeon barked at you to start practising again. 

When the music started you felt the familiar adrenaline rush through you. You started to glide, your determination renewed. Sunghoon may have been your boyfriend but you hadn’t been joking when you had told him you wouldn’t go easy on him. He knew it too. He wouldn’t expect anything less from his ice princess. 

[joonipertree]

Tags: college au, awkward mikey, flustered mikey, mikey has a crush on you. skateboarder!mikey.

[I wrote this Feb 2022. THIS WAS BEFORE I WATCHED THE SHOW OR READ THE MANGA. I JUST SAW A PIC AND THOUGHT HE WAS CUTE???]

You weren’t sure what you were watching but you were pretty sure it was akin to a circus.

“Mikey, you have to.” A pretty girl said with a bored expression on her face.

“No.”

Mikey, your classmate, was simply circling around her with an equally bored expression. He was the definition of carefree, skateboard under his feet and hands in his pocket with his long blonde hair in a ponytail.

“You were fine five minutes ago.”

“That was before I had two mental breakdowns about it.”

“In the span of five minutes?”

“You don’t know my life.”

“I’m your sister.”

“No.”

“Mikey, just fucking go up to them and kiss already, it’s exhausting watching you pine.” Ryuguji, another classmate of yours, spoke from the bench he was sitting on.

“Shut your fucking mouth before I punch you, Kenchin.” Mikey deadpanned, skating a little wobbly for a second before righting himself.

“That’s not the point of this, you need a partner for the assignment.” The blonde girl spoke sternly.

“I’d rather fail than ask them.”

“I’ll tell big brother on you.”

“Oh no, I’m so scared. What horrible things will he do?” Mikey had a very sarcastic tone in his voice as he shivered exaggeratedly.

“Ass.”

“Emma, I’m still not convinced. There’s nothing that can possibly happen that will make me go and talk to them.”

“Oh hey _____, didn’t see you there.” Ryuguji all but shouted out.

Mikey promptly fell off his skateboard and stumbled two feet forward before stabilizing himself.

“Hey, sorry for just standing there, I needed to use the vending machine.” you said with a giggle.

Mikey all but skipped to the side which made you giggle as you walked towards it.

It was silent for a while and when you turned around, you saw the three of them having some kind of conversation with their eyes. It mostly consisted of Mikey shaking his head vehemently.

Emma looked at you a second later and smiled a saccharine sweet smile at you before saying, “I love that shirt on you, it’s very cute.”

You thanked her and looked to your right to see Ryuguji keeping Mikey in a headlock as the other tried to escape his clutches.

“So, I heard about that project that’s coming up. Do you have a partner yet?”

“Sadly, no.” You sighed. Your friends had paired off already and you were the only one left.

“Mikey doesn’t have a partner either.” Emma said just as Mikey broke himself free.

“Oh, if you want to be my partner then you can.” You said as nonchalantly as possible. To be honest, Mikey was very cute and you always wanted to talk to him but never had the courage.

“i’m-well-no-I mean-I-” Mikey stuttered the worst you’ve ever heard anyone stutter.

“This means yes in Mikey.” Emma informed and for your own sanity, you believed her.

With a drink in your hand, you walked towards him and handed him your phone.

“Add your number in, I’ll text you.”

The boy just stood there in silence, eyes almost out of his sockets as he held the pastel blue covered phone in his hand. You noticed how big his hands were and it made you blush a bit. You wondered what it would feel like to hold them.

“Oh my god, you fucking coward.” Emma muttered but before she could take your phone from his hand, he cradled it against his chest while glaring at her. He then very carefully typed in his digits.

You tried opening your bottle of juice but were very clearly failing to, grunting softly at the effort you were putting in.

He took the bottle from you and gave your phone back before very easily unscrewing the cap.

Why the fuck was that attractive?

He handed it back and you squeaked out a thanks before saying a quick goodbye.

You were too far to hear or see him but the boy melted against his best friend and whined over how cute you were.

“Did you see how cool I was opening that bottle for them? I was so fuckling calm, what the fuck.”

[amywritesthings]

gojo satoru public bathroom sex beeeecause i was on something today?

Borderline illegal? More like egregiously — but Satoru made sure to stuff two of his slender fingers into your mouth to stop the inevitable argument budding on your tongue. “Can’t wait anymore,” is his only excuse as he leans to inhale the scent of you at your neck; feral like an animal in heat, like a rubber band snapped somewhere between showing up and finding out you’d worn the same icy silver dress he’d mentioned liking once in passing after seeing it on you during a New Year’s Eve party.

That was back then, before the two of you ended up in a limitless loop of play pretend. He’ll be civil so long as you pretend you don’t want any part of this — and to your credit, you tried. Casual acquaintances at work turned into lewd texts, and now? Well, the second course barely hit the table before the white-haired sorcerer lept from your little table.

“Meet me in the back,” is his only warning — and to your credit, you waited a whopping five minutes before sliding out of the chair to find where the individual bathrooms were located.

You barely made it through the door before he was on you, his large hands gripping either side of your face to drag you into a searing kiss. You speak in squeaks and whimpers, a protest somewhere in the middle, but Satoru Gojo is starving.

“You think you were going to show up in a dress like that and I’d wanna wait?” he muses as his free hand skates down the front of the sequins, marveling at its texture. Under his dark oval sunglasses, his eyes are alight. No water will quench his thirst, no meal his taste, when he’s parting your bare knees with his thigh. “I appreciate the benefit of the doubt, baby, but there was no fucking way I was— Shit, have you been wet this whole time?”

Gojo sounds utterly broken when his fingers skim past the hem of your skirt, only to touch the thin fabric of your panties. He grimaces as if he’s in pain holding back, the tip of his middle finger circling your clothed clit with ease. You whimper against the fingers in your mouth and nod to the best of your ability, and he exhales sharply.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

He never fails to tell you so.

Removing his fingers from your mouth, he quickly unfastens his belt and rips it out of his dress trousers with one hand, carelessly tossing it to the floor. He shoves his pants down far enough to release his aching cock, too aroused to even think straight. You love him like this; unhinged, untethered, for a man who is usually so tightly wound for the sake of the universe.

And it’s all for you.

As he hikes up your leg to hook around his hip, you can see the brief curve of a wolfish smile on his lips while he lines up. He pumps himself once, twice, before nudging the fat head against your folds. His other hand slides the fabric of your panties to the right, too needy to drag them off of your legs. When he wants something, he makes it happen.

“Fucking amazing,” he repeats breathlessly, before pushing up and into you with ease. You harmonize in groans of relief, relishing in the stretch and heat. “And all mine.”

[moonlightseve]

At the Barcelona GPF, Yuuri puts his heart and soul into his short program, attempting a quad flip in a way that seems to pay homage to Viktor’s own routines. During his free skate he quite clearly spells out that he wants to live up to Viktor, skating a routine with the same difficulty as he would’ve and managing to break his world record.

It’s clear that the shadow of Viktor Nikiforov, the legend, has fallen over Yuuri once more. This man has been his idol for the majority of his life, always a symbol of his aspirations and his greatest form of inspiration. And as Yuuri takes to the ice, he intends to finally reach these goals of his, putting forward his best possible work in attempts to bring home gold.

He finishes his short program, where he had a gold ring on his finger and the attention of his coach. And he falls to the ice, crumpling as he recalls his attempts at the quad flip — Viktor’s signature move.

He touched down. It had enough rotations, but it was not perfect. Even after all this time he has still failed to do what Viktor is able to do.

The ice he falls to takes on a certain color, reminiscent of Viktor’s Stammi Vicino costume. The very routine that started this all, the one Viktor skated at the GPF a year prior. It’s as if it haunts Yuuri, who had come too far and given too much to fail now.

Viktor, for all he has been humanized and removed from that mental pedestal Yuuri had placed him on long ago, is still a benchmark Yuuri must meet to be satisfied. The ice is tainted by his memories of the skater, his desperation to reach the heights Viktor has and prove himself worthy. When he looks at the rink, he sees the perfection of the Living Legend, the seemingly insurmountable task of raising himself to that level looking back at him.

[leonw4nter]

hii could you do some re2r leon hcs abt him dating a figure skater? love your fics smm <33

RE2R!Leon Headcanons on dating a figure skater!

RE2R!Leon x GN!FigureSkater!Reader (Also my first request ever!! Thanks anon &lt;33)

RE2R!Leon who would drive you to and from practice everyday if he was free. He also offered to massage your sore arms and legs at the end of a strenuous practice, making sure you also ate well in order to restore your energy.

RE2R!Leon who is the resident figure skating expert in the Raccoon City precinct, knowledgeable on the jumps, scoring systems, the best brands of figure skating outfits to buy from, etc. He knows all these because you explain the mechanics of your sport to him any chance you get– laying in bed at night, mid-chew of your food, when he’s driving and you suddenly remembered that you haven’t said anything in a long time today.

RE2R!Leon who would make sure to attend all of your performances, near or far. He’s willing to call in sick just to watch your performance, if the station isn’t super busy. If the station really needs him, he’ll try to catch your performance on the box TV in the break room. 

RE2R!Leon who saved up before spending the first six months of his salary to get you new skates since your old ones were barely hanging on for dear life yet you insisted they still worked just fine. The skating apparel store personnel also gave him care instructions, him taking out a notepad and jotting down care instructions. Like the thoughtful boyfriend he is, he also picked up some grease for the blades and leather conditioner.

RE2R!Leon who would be the loudest person in the whole arena, the staffers and the people reminding him many times to keep the hollering down and he apologizes, even if he’s bound to do it again.

RE2R!Leon who always comes running to you with flowers in one hand, arms wide open to engulf you in a warm hug. He’s practically sobbing because he’s so damn proud of you, his camcorder full of shaky footage of you skating and him yelling. He’s got another camera in the pocket of his jacket, this time full of photos of you (some of the pictures blurry).

RE2R!Leon who nearly masters the art of styling your hair; name it and he’ll do it near perfectly (there’s always room for improvement and new ways to style your hair). Same goes for your makeup; he used to confuse concealer and foundation and now he knows which is which. He remembers the amount you use on your face and what brushes or sponges are used for each product. Sometimes, he even offers to get your brushes and sponges cleaned.

RE2R!Leon who flails his arms and tries not to fall on his ass on the cold ice when you took him out for an ice skating date. You suggested that he use the walkers that the establishment offered for newbies but he turned it down, saying he can just hold on to the side or hold on to you. After you taught, explained, and demonstrated all the moves you do for skating, he’s highly impressed and in awe especially now that he’s seeing the mechanisms up close.

RE2R!Leon who brags about his award-winning partner to the other officers in the station, showing the multitude of pictures he has of your awards. He might even show videos of your routines too, the officers complaining of slight motion sickness or not understanding anything because the footage is so shaky.

RE2R!Leon who will absolutely scream “that’s my girl/boyfriend right there!” or “see that person over there? The one in maroon! I’m their boyfriend!” to no one in particular while the people around him could care less.

RE2R!Leon who hypes you up before it’s time for him to go to the stands and for you to go in the holding area for the contestants, giving you kisses and playing upbeat music on the drive to the venue. He’s giving you so much hugs and words of encouragement, you feel your confidence spike.

RE2R!Leon who ran from the stands and tackled you, crying, when you were hailed as one of the winners. You were both in tears, laughing and smiling broadly but you swear that he cried harder than you did.

RE2R!Leon who will still come running to you with arms wide open to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug, flowers in one hand even if you didn’t place on the podium. At the end of the day, you did your best and he’s the proudest boyfriend ever. In his eyes, you’re the best skater there is and will still celebrate you no matter what.

RE2R!Leon who will listen to the song you finally found for your routine, his lovely partner seeking double approval for their music choice. That song would end up stuck in his mind for a week, even if it’s not his usual taste. While sitting in his patrol car or filing reports back, he’d randomly start humming “Hopelessly Devoted to You” or “Take My Breath Away” and giggle to himself because he remembers seeing you glide on the ice so gracefully. 

RE2R!Leon who doesn’t mind being the guy that people ask to hold their cameras so they can take a picture with you. He’s just some dude and you’re there, the topic of a nine year-old’s female sports icon essay for a subject at school.

RE2R!Leon who felt guilty when you had to pull out of a competition that takes place a state away from where Raccoon City is, flight tickets and hotel accommodation fees above what you two normally earn. He didn’t like seeing you dejected, a little farther from reaching the Olympic dream you want to achieve and sulking in your room. He promised to work harder and saved more money so he’d be able to support you financially in your dreams.

RE2R!Leon who will blast a Spice Girls or Madonna song and dance to it, making himself look stupid in front of you just to make you smile for even a little bit. Would do anything to help you get over a bad day. He’d suggest you doing his makeup to test out how a makeup look you’ve been eyeing might look; the powder is making his nose slightly itchy but he tries not to flinch so he won’t smudge the eyeliner you’re doing on him while you’re sitting on his lap, his hands resting on your waist or the small of your back.

RE2R!Leon who is your number one fan! Aside from whatever encouragement he’s showering you when you’re competing, he’s truly doing everything and more just so he can help you reach your dreams. On days that are either boring, best, or the worst, he will be there for you no matter what. He truly believes that you’re perfectly capable of being on your own but he’s thankful that you’re letting him into your life. He’s not the richest man in the world nor does he have a fat bank account but he’s doing everything in order to be able to provide for you, a small smidge of what he is willing to do for you.

NOTE - I finally finished 1/3 requests in my inbox, YEAHHH!!! I started on this one yesterday before I fell asleep, finished the rest of it while at school, and finished making the post just now :)) I've been gone for a while bc school and I'll probably be gone again for quite some time bc work is starting to pour in some more. I got a perfect score on a math drill today so I'm pretty happy about that, my (richer) classmates also organized a prom kinda thing bc we didn't get to have prom so I'm excited about that one :)) Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this headcanon and again, big BIG thank you to anon for sending this request in!!!! I hope I managed to live up to your expectations :))) I <33333 UUUUU!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[venriliz]

Portia Montez for @rainymoodlet's Rock of Love Bachelor Challenge! <3

in depth info + full wardrobe below the cut! ↓

✮ Portia was born and raised in Evergeen Harbor, an industrial port town known for it's huge import/export businesses and even more so - it's heavily polluted environment especially at the shores of the sickly brown-ish sea. The early death of Portia's mother directly caused by the affects the bad air had on her health has instilled somewhat of a love-hate relationship towards Evergreen Harbor into the then 8 year old girl.

✮ Her father tried his best to raise his daughter by himself but despite his long working hours in a local shipyard the money was barely enough for them to survive, the possibilty of moving away far out of reach.

✮ Early in her youth she found her talent and passion for skateboarding, winning many prizes in junior competitions all over the country. After barley graduating from highschool (some ppl just aren't made for the educational system lol) she became a promising professional and quickly made a name for herself in the skating community all over the world. Her biggest successes were two back-to-back street skateboard world championship titles and several self-invented tricks where named after her. Life was good for Portia not only professionally but personally too after meeting Davide Montez who became not only her manager but als her husband.

✮ Sadly, as the saying goes though - nothing lasts forever and about a year ago, Portia found herself forced to retire from competing professionally because growing up in the bad environment of Evergreen Harbor finally started to catch up with her own health. Her retirement caused her marriage to suffer as well and soon after she announced the end of her career as a professional, Davide called it quits and they agreed to divorce on good terms.

✮ Now with her financial stability and free time to pursue new things, Portia took the chance and applied for the bachelor challenge to win Jackson Roth's heart. This is mostly thanks to her friends pressuring her to try after catching her gawking at one of the billboards with Jackson's photo on it (i mean HELLO?! he's hawt! °-° she just... doesn't like the music lol). Portia is (somewhat) ready for a new adventure and maybe, just maybe she'll find love again! <3

likes:

colors: orange, red, black music: electronica, hip hop, latin characteristics: family-oriented, hardworking, idealistic convo topics: flirting, deep thoughts, affection, talking about hobbies fashion: rocker, streetwear activities: fitness, dancing, wellness, rock climbing decor: industrial, mid-century

dislikes:

music: metal, cottagecore, ranch characteristics: egotistical, argumentative, ambitionless convo topics: evil interactions, arguing, gossip fashion: polished, country activities: fishing, cooking, mischief decor: farmhouse, cute

wardrobe:

[irisintheafterglow]

alright @mididoodles since you're so determined to absolutely annihilate my psyche every time you press post, here's wonderwall hockey player!satoru x skater!reader

it couldn't be that bad to go a little later to the rink, right? right?

wrong, so very wrong.

on top of sleeping through your alarm, you couldn't find your skate guards after you carelessly tossed them on your desk the night prior. you ended up having to wrench them from your dog, nearly dropping your car keys in the trash in the process. by the time you were through the double doors and shivering against the frigid air, someone's already occupied your usual timeslot. sure, it was a free skate before doors officially opened, but years of going to the same rink established that you were the one on the ice at the asscrack of dawn. the ticket sellers knew it, the zamboni drivers knew it, even other skaters knew that you had first claim. everyone was aware of your seniority, it seemed, except for the lanky hockey player swinging pucks into a net on the far side of the ice. you lace up your skates and pray for him to leave, grimacing when he doesn't and hopping onto the rink anyway. if he hit you with a puck, the lawsuit would certainly pay for your next program's costume.

you tune him out the best you can and try to ignore the way his muscles stretch against his compression long sleeve, something much too light to be wearing for a typical hockey player. you don't skate close enough to see his face, but the corded muscle on his back was enough to have your face heating. his hair was nearly the same color as the ice, and he flipped it back every so often to get it out of his face. in another world where you weren't sharing the rink with him, you'd have found yourself with a little crush on him. the music in your earbuds isn't enough, however, to drown out the sound of the stick hitting the puck over and over and over again, not to mention the times when he misses the net and the puck ricochets off the walls of the rink. your jumps become messier than usual, as are your spins, and you can only accredit it to the other occupant of the rink. after barely a few minutes of trying to share and run through your drills without using half your space, you give up and make to leave. you'd just have to come back tomorrow and hope he wasn't there.

"hey, wait! i was just leaving," a vaguely familiar voice calls to your back. it's melodic and incredibly confident, borderline arrogant. "sorry i stole your spot; i have a game tonight and i wanted to get some extra practice goals in before class." the crunch of skates sprinting across the ice and power-sliding to a halt floats into your ears and you look at the perpetrator from the corner of your eye, turning fully to look at him when your brain clicks into place who he is. "oh, shit!"

"satoru?" he mirrors the surprise in your tone, throwing his head to the side with a lopsided smile as he states your name tenderly. "oh my god, what are you doing here?" your mouth breaks into a grin, grateful to be free from the scowl you were wearing a few minutes prior. your eyes flick down to his lips as his tongue runs absentmindedly over a sparkling canine.

"i had to come in a little earlier than i usually do; i didn't know that it's during the time you're here. it's really good to see you," he says warmly and you feel your face warm. "you went pro, yeah?" you nod, casually leaning a shoulder against the plexiglass walls of the rink. he crosses his toned arms across his chest and you fight the urge to stare. it's rude to ogle the arms of your childhood crush turned hot hockey player bad boy, you scold yourself. "how's that going?"

"mmm, i just got back from russia a few weeks ago. holiday intensives and such."

"wow, that's incredible. not like i'm surprised, though. you were always the best skater in our group."

"not true. i had to use you as a walker a few times when we were first starting out," you remind him and he laughs at the memory. "you made me hold your hand while i shimmied around the perimeter."

"and you asked if i was born with skates on my feet, i remember."

"how's suguru?"

"he's great. he's usually here with me but i couldn't drag him out of his house this early in the morning."

"in true suguru fashion, really," you joke. you feel like you're seven again, staring up at satoru's bright blue eyes absolutely lovestruck. he still makes you feel butterflies, even over a decade later. "you said you had a game later?"

"yeah, here at 6:00. you should come if you're free. watch me kick ass on the ice for old time's sake."

"i'll do my best. i'm meeting a new ballet teacher who's coaching us on musicality later this afternoon."

"i don't know what any of those words mean," he states plainly and you snort. "i never understood your world."

"and i never understood yours," you confess. "yet, here we are."

"here we are, indeed," he murmurs, looking at you with an expression you've never seen on his face before. it has your heart racing like an idiot. "well, i'll let you have your rink back. thanks for letting me borrow it." he carefully steps past you and heads for the benches, throwing back his snowy hair in a way that has you gripping the edge of the wall for stability. it takes all of your willpower to keep your voice from shaking.

"i'd say come use it anytime, but i am very protective of my timeslot." he sends you a smile over his shoulder. holy shit, were his shoulders always that broad? and was he always that tall? was he always this fucking hot?

"i'll respect it, though i might pop in to watch you skate. you're mesmerizing, you know?"

"careful, any more sweet words and i'll think you have a crush on me." the words slip from your mouth faster than you can stop them and he looks at you curiously, and you'd be lying if you said he didn't look amused at your jab. you'd learned to flirt from him, after all.

when he's slipped out of his skates and re-approached you, you're barely tall enough to look him in the eyes. "it was good to see you," he murmurs.

"feeling's mutual." he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo and you resist the urge to touch his undercut.

"i missed you." his three words have you feeling weak in the knees and slightly breathless. "a lot." despite the chill, you feel your palms start to sweat.

"i missed you too."

"keep your eyes on me tonight?" you roll your eyes at his familiar, comforting self-assurance.

"like i would look at anyone else." his eyes are sparkling and time seems to slow down to a honey-covered crawl. "what number should i be watching?" he cracks a mischievous smirk, shrugging and walking to the exit. you're speechless on the ice until he turns back a final time.

to tell you that his number is your birthday.

I CALL WRITING THE GAME I'M GONNA WRITE THE GAME I WANNA WRITE THE GAME SOON I JUST FEEL SO AWKWARD WRITING WITHOUT ANY FIRST MEET/CONTEXT

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[bebravedearheart]

😂 tickling for merthur!

I don't know why, I had a feeling I'd get this one😂

***

Merlin threw open the heavy curtains blocking the dawn from Arthur's chambers, eliciting a groan from the prince who for all he said Merlin puzzled him was a mystery himself. How could a man with the honed reflexes of a knight training since childhood, who woke at the slightest twitch or rustle while on patrol or on a hunt, be so difficult to wake in the mornings he spent in his lavish bed in the castle.

Though, on reflection, Merlin didn't think he'd wake up so easily if he too was enveloped in soft linen sheets and a feather mattress.

Arthur had done no more than press his face further into his pillow.

"Come on then," Merlin said brightly, just a fraction louder than he needed to. "Let's have you lazy daisy," He knew Arthur hated that phrase and it might at least get something thrown at his head--which meant Arthur would have to move to do so.

The prince, clearly intending to be particularly difficult today, just groaned again, one hand dragged from the warmth of the deep red coverlet to make a shooing motion at Merlin.

"Breakfast will get cold," Merlin tried, deciding not to mention the fact he had once again been late to pick it up and it was already no more than lukewarm.

"S'always cold," Arthur muttered, muffled in his decadence.

"Do I have to drag you out, my lord?" Merlin asked, both of them well aware he only titled Arthur when he was being particularly sardonic. "I've done it before and I will do it again," he continued, trying his best to channel his mother's particular brand of ferocity.

"Are you threatening me, Merlin?" came the still-muffled, still-pompous tone. Arthur was feeling a little more awake, then.

"If that's what it needs to be to get your lazy arse out of bed, royal or not." Merlin answered loftily, with a long-suffering sigh for good measure. He still couldn't see the prince's face, but Arthur's hand was idly twisting in his coverlet; those broad, calloused fingers wrinkling then smoothing the linen.

"You can't talk to me like that," Arthur raised his head, the effect of his commanding, self-important tone somewhat lessened by the yawn that broke his words and the way his hair stuck up in all directions.

Something warm settled itself beneath Merlin's ribs, as it so often did in unguarded moments like these, the glimpses of the man beneath the crown, the infuriating, stubborn, childish man.

"Well, are you getting out of bed?"

"Nope."

"Then I shall continue."

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Sod off."

"Right." Merlin had a note of finality to his tone. "If you're not getting out of bed, I'm getting in."

"Excuse me?" Arthur demanded, though the words had not even left his mouth before Merlin was sat on his hips, knees either side of him.

"Get up," Merlin singsonged, prodding Arthur's bare chest with one long finger.

"Get off," Arthur grumbled, with far less heat than he knew he should at such familiarity.

"Get up," Merlin sang again, prodding Arthur in the ribs this time. The prince could not suppress the slight twitch and shiver when Merlin's finger brushed the sensitive, ticklish spot on his ribs. Merlin did not fail to notice and he grinned wickedly.

"Right." He said again, drawing all of his fingers, feather-light across Arthur's ribs.

***

"Merlin!" the prince squeaked--with dignity, of course--thinking wildly for a moment about how soft Merlin's palms were where they rested on his sides, how warm.

"Are you getting up, my lord?" Merlin said again, his other hand skating over Arthur's chest as the laughter he could not help broke free.

"Merlin! Give up! Merlin!" He bellowed between giggles, had no idea what anyone passing in the corridor might think. His manservant had never listened to him, however, and it did not look like he was about to start now.

Truly awake now, Arthur drew on those perfectly honed reflexes and grabbed Merlin's wrist, knowing Merlin wasn't expecting it. "Ha!" his voice was triumphant as he sat up, still holding Merlin's wrist. They had wrestled like children before, gone far beyond any boundary of lord and servant many times but this felt different. The air felt charged with something Arthur could not name and tried hard not to think about.

His hand seemed so large, clumsy against Merlin's. His blunt, calloused fingertips looked like they would sully Merlin's perfectly pale skin. Arthur swallowed thickly, knowing he should let go but unable to make himself just yet.

Merlin flexed his fingers and Arthur watched the movement intently, didn't think of rules or propriety as he brought Merlin's hand closer to his face, pressed a kiss to his warm palm. Merlin's breath caught in his throat and Arthur moved to kiss the pads of each of Merlin's finger. He tasted the salt-sweat of Merlin's skin, the barest hint of whichever herbs he had picked for Gaius before coming to wake him and the honey from the rolls he always brought Arthur for breakfast. "Stealing my sweetmeats before you've even served me, Merlin?"

The tips of Merlin's ears flushed a delicate pink and Arthur knew he was right. He let go of Merlin's wrist, reluctantly. "We should--"

Merlin's hand had already found its way back to Arthur's chest, pressed flat against his sternum, pushing Arthur to lie back down. Those elegant fingers ran across his chest, down his ribs again; over all the ticklish spots that made Arthur shiver, brushing a nipple oh-so-lightly--which made Arthur actually gasp.

Merlin's smile turned wicked as he tickled Arthur's ribs again just to watch him twitch.

"I think you can stay in bed just a little longer."

[i-yap]

Can I request a Platonic Yandere Batfamily x female reader. I wanted to to read some thing because it was my birthday 5 days ago.

Batfamily is known for being manipulative and sneaky. Y/N an adult (18)living in Gotham,and have lived there since child hood. Your life is good well and even became a professional figure skater,until you meet them.

Summary: Reader is a professional figure skater. The batfamily goes to the skating rink to see one of Bruce's friend practice skating,that's until they first meet reader. The batfamily and reader are introduced by Bruce's friend. Ever since then they couldn't get reader out of their heads,they even went as far as stalking and kidnapping reader and bringing them back to the mansion.

Happy belated birthday!! Ive never written yandere...or the whole batfam x y/n so I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your expectations.

warning- yandere , stalking, pain, torture, just plain old yandere stuff okay? manipulation mind games , cold, hunger

there is mention of cas, steph, duke..idk them that well yet

Yandere Batfam x reader (PLATONIC ONLY)

Woosh , there you go, as graceful as a swan . A warm beauty on a sheet of white. In this cold cold city , you were like a ray of sun, the pride of this city. Ever since Bruce had brought you home for a private dinner to further discuss his generous funding to the sports facilities in public schools where you volunteered to teach underprivileged kids for free, the family hadn’t been able to pull their eyes away from you.

 On the rink and outside it. Be it your home, your training centre or you grocery shopping. You were used to eyes on you. After all you were the star of the city! And in a city that only ever produces cynical, evil and cruelty …maybe it was foolish to assume you would shine so bright forever.

It was Dick who suggested bringing you in. He found tim’s cameras that were strategically placed..well everywhere, and then Damian’s stash of drawings of an ice princess that strikingly resembled you and finally when Jason beat up the reporter that criticized your latest performance.

Bruce regretted not making sure to hide you better, but after the cards life had dealt his family, they all deserved to have this one good thing in their life. After everything they have given this city, this world, why cant they have just this one gift as repayment.

After all, its not like they want to hurt you right? At least not until you misbehave that is. They want to protect you. This city turns the brightest star the dust, good people cant survive here. It was best they take you before you hardened or broke. But even as they patiently explained all that to you, you refused to cooperate . So stubborn, so strong, on and off the ice. No wonder the family was so drawn to you!

Even as they brought you an entire ice rink to put shows that you missed so much, you continued to complain. Well maybe a couple days without food would help? Don’t worry Tim got soft and brought you your favorite snacks. Hm..still not cooperating. Maybe a couple days sleeping on the ice will help, you do love spending all your time there. Don’t worry, Jason came to cuddle you.

When Alfred was not allowed to interact with you, that’s when you finally broke. With no one else to give you company, the lonliness got to you. Suddenly the Cheery sunshiney dick Grayson seemed much more funny and lovely to be around. And Bruce acted like the father you never had.

 All these years you trained so hard for attention you never got as a kid, and now you had it ! at least that’s what tim told you..and why would he lie? He always looked out for you, helped clean your wounds when you were punished. And Jason! Why would he want to hurt you ? after everything that has happened to him, would he really hurt someone else? Someone as nice as dick could never be cruel and Damian? You mean your little baby? The kid who called you Ummi and drew you pretty paintings? No you must have lost your mind. This was your true family and its good you finally realized that!

( I COULD FINALLY PUT IN ALL MY TAGS MUAHAHAHHA)

[moonbeamwritings]

an ice skating date with bakugou

pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

wc: 910

warnings: none

← prev. date

“See?” Katsuki grumbles, jerking his head in the direction of the ice as he laces up his skates. “Even those damn brats are doing it. What’re you so worried about?”

Little kids scoot along the perimeter of the ice, clad in puffy coats and cozy mittens with gap-toothed grins on their faces. With a parent’s hand in their own, they seem almost unstoppable as they skate. Maybe Katsuki’s right — if they could do it with a little bit of help, then so could you.

You start to lace up your own skates with a gentle sigh and a shy smile. “I guess you’re right.”

Katsuki moves to kneel in front of you, tying up your left skate. Piercing vermillion eyes meets yours, a sly smirk on his lips. “Of course I’m right.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your gloves down over your hands.

He taps the side of your knee to get your attention, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he tells you, “I won’t let you fall, dummy.”

Moving to stand, you reach out to weave his fingers between yours, giving them a tight squeeze. “You better not.”

The first few glides along the ice are less than graceful, to say the least. Your knees wobble as you try to find your footing, Katsuki’s hand in yours. You both almost lose your balance more than once, but as you round the first curve, neither of you has taken your first tumble.

“If you’re not careful,” he warns lowly, “you’re gonna take my damn hand off.”

“I’m sorry. Forgive me if I don’t wanna fall.”

“Well, I already told you that-”

A child whizzes by, narrowly missing Katsuki’s shoulder, and the momentum of it sends his butt to the ice. You almost stumble and fall yourself, but you manage to catch yourself at the last second.

You can’t help the giggle that breaks through the hand covering your mouth, his confident act entirely shattered now that he’s been the first to fall. And, god, if looks could kill. Through gritted teeth, Katsuki warns you, “’S not funny.”

“It is a little funny,” you reason, offering him your free hand to take. When he does, you pull him to his feet and do your best to steady him. His arms flail for a brief moment before he settles. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s keep going.”

When you pick up a rhythm again, you catch his pout out of the corner of your eye. “What? What is it?”

He grumbles, something low that he muffles behind the thick fabric of his scarf.

You lean a little closer, “What?”

“Didn’t even ask if I was okay.”

Katsuki Bakugou is a lot of things — driven, maybe a little abrasive, talented — but, he was also, without a doubt, a huge baby.

“Aww, ‘m sorry. Are you okay?”

He rolls his eyes, telling you to “just forget it,” but you don’t miss the rosy pink of his cheeks where they peek out from behind his scarf.

What began as a promise to keep you from falling, quickly becomes a mission to protect Katsuki’s ego as you desperately try to keep him steady on his feet, and you’re not doing a very good job of accomplishing it. Katsuki falls more times than you can count. No matter how firmly you grip his hands or how gently you move, there’s nothing that can halt the marriage between Katsuki’s butt and the cold, hard ice. 

All the while, you haven’t fallen. Not even once.

Sensing his mounting frustration, you haul him from the ice once more. “We’ll do one more loop, and then we’ll get some hot chocolate. How’s that sound?”

He nods resolutely, this time determined to make it around without falling. “Sure.”

So far so good — you round the first curve and then the second, and he remains firmly on his skates. It’s not until you reach the last straightaway, the door to the rink just within your grasp, that you feel it.

A slight wobble, a tiny bit of instability and suddenly you’re hitting the ice, Katsuki’s giant body falling on top of yours, squishing you beneath him. You take a moment to wince, recovering from the shock of falling (and being flattened by a giant pro-hero) before you stuff a laugh into the crook of his neck. Katsuki’s body shakes above yours, a small chuckle morphing into a cackle as your laughter encourages his own.

He cradles the back of your head in his hand. His fingers are cold where they rest against your hair. The ghost of a laugh lingers on his lips. “Who’s shitty idea was this?”

“Yours,” you pointedly remind him. “One hundred percent your idea. I’m not taking credit for this.”

Katsuki presses his freezing nose into your cheek and mumbles, “’M still blamin’ you.”

You click your tongue and roll your eyes. “Oh shut up. Get off me ya big lug. We have hot cocoa to drink.”

In the most graceful maneuver he’s managed all night, Katsuki tugs you up to your feet and leads you off the ice, a sigh of relief passing his lips as you finally make it back to less slippery ground.

Twenty minutes later, as you sit beneath a string of lights on a bench near the rink, Katsuki pulls you into a kiss that tastes like hot chocolate and whipped cream, fingers now warm as they press into your skin. When he pulls away, he can’t fight back his grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”