#fuck u tibia

[delcakoo]

OMGGG I CANT STOP THINKING ABT JOCK NIKI AND SHY TUTORRRR I NEED MOREEEEEE

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE MAKE OUT SESS IN THE LIBRARY I NEED ALL THE DEETS 😍😍

part 1 lol

PAIRING ! jock!niki x tutor!gn!reader

WC ! 800ish

WARNINGS ! smooching and u and riki being so so cute

a/n: I DIDNT THINK ITD BE THAT EFFECTIVE ON ANYONE HELLO?? IM HONORED OK ENJOY !!

niki pulls away from the kiss, chuckling proudly at the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his. his right hand still rests on the back of your neck while the other grips the library table firmly. “and that one?” he inquires again.

you gulp, nervously glancing around the surrounding shelves of books. “it.. it was good..” as you mumble pathetically, you suddenly remember what you’re supposed to be doing. “..will you at least tell me what’s below the catella?”

he bursts into a disbelieving giggle, eyes crinkling into half-moons at your words. “all that and you’re still focused on tutoring me?” when you send him a warning glare (which he wasn’t phased by in the slightest), niki smirks. “the tibia.”

you nod, affirming that he was correct. “good job.” before he can do anything else, you swiftly stand to your feet and throw your belongings into your bag quicker and messier than you’ve ever done in your life. what made it all worse was that along with the piercing, hungry stare you could feel on your back the whole time, the taste of the boy was still fully on your tongue and lips.

“so thats it? gonna pack up and pretend nothing happened like last time?” he spits. you thought the jock was just playing with you — finding ways to make his ‘tutor sessions’ a bit more exciting — but you swear a hint of genuine frustration could be heard coating his sharp accusations.

you grit your teeth either way. “niki, this session ended ten minutes ago.”

tonguing the side of his cheek, he stands up himself while running strong fingers through his bangs. “and? fuck the session, i only care about you anyway.” you freeze. niki seems equally shocked, only realising his confession after another moment of silence passes.

“i..”

“look, i know your standards are too high for some fuck up like me so just- just pretend i didn’t say shit.”

it takes you a few blinks to process niki walking away, textbook and pencilcase tucked securely under his arm for you to hurrily chase after him. you pull the back of his navy hoodie with vigor, not taking another moment of hesitation before smashing your lips on his as soon as he stumbles around to face you.

he was the one to pull away first (which, for the record, had never happened before). “wh.. what- y/n?” niki questioningly stares down at you, a shimmer of hope reflecting in his pupils.

“i care about you too. i mean i- i think i like you, too,” you rush out.

his expression morphs instantly, a small beginning of a smirk forming as he leans against the nearest bookshelf. “i never said i liked you, did i?”

you frown, sending him a harsh glare. “niki.”

“sorry.” it was clear the male didn’t have much experience with such conversation judging by the way he scratched the nape of his neck, glancing off into space shyly. “so like.. i have a basketball game friday..”

“mhm..” you try not to laugh at his sudden change of attitude, edging him on with a nod.

“and if you wanna like- i don’t know, wearmyjerseyandcomewatchme or something.. i wouldn’t mind. and- and we can go eat somewhere after if you’re okay with taking the bus.”

you never imagined nishimura riki could be so cute, but somehow it brings butterflies to your stomach. “yeah, sure. that sounds good, text me the details?”

his eyes widen, mouth stammering as he takes in your response. "oh, uh- yeah, yeah i will.” pushing off the wall, niki only begins to walk away before he's quickly swivelling towards you again, rushing to plant a kiss on your forehead before taking off with promises of a text.

you nearly fail to miss the giddy smile on his face as he exits the library — not that you were any better with cheeks as red as your swollen lips.

one chance niki !!!!!!! ++ reblogs n comments r always appreciated if u enjoyed n want more pspsps

[emperorundying]

TLT Dashboard Simulator- Pt 5

💀 drearybruh Follow

10,000 y/o lyctor gf who exclusively calls me 'lovey': Ugh they're still debating the ethics of using cavaliers as a resource to suck dry, I can't deal with this empire today.

me [heard 'suck dry cavaliers' and got so hard i got nauseous]: I think I hauve devils in me

(2,710 notes)

🫁 soulosexualll

omg guys im so sorry ive been MIA!!! the alexandrite id been talking about won custody over our baby so i had a bit of a crisis about my future on the fifth house alone and loved only by the spirits. and then of course i visit the third over vacation and get roped into a multi-week bender [have u ever snorted dried marrow? life changing] and then i was lost on the third for likeeeee four days and had to find my way back through hitchhiking and bartering with my own blood.

but i promise ill update my Joy/Patience/Duty threesome fic soon :333

#rpf #munposting #EEEEEEE GET EXCITED GUYS #joy strap time? joy strap time.... #i see ur messages in the askbox and i super appreciate them btw but i cant justify answering all of them #BUT I SEE U AND I LOVE U <33

(42 notes)

🦴 skeletal-system-bracket

SKELETAL SYSTEM BRACKET ROUND 3 GROUP A

We had two ties last round [within a margin of error of .1%!!] , so we decided it would make the most sense to make this a four-way poll. Propaganda:

Occipital Bone: do you want an unprotected cerebellum??? the infernal surface is groovy af, and all the nuchal lines are actually goated. are u seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me the three-part bone of all time [father son and holy spirit, anyone?] can even be stepped to by some normie basic bone shit???????? cmon..... [via. @skullfuckbonegod]

Fibula: VOTE FIBULA!!!! bone with a best friend <3 Tibia already got out round 1 so its ur legal duty to stand up for its legbestie... also my hounds r named Fibula and Tibia and theyre adorbsies [via. @sodiumradiation]

Thoracic Vertibrae: twelve bones. twelve bones, one combined goal: fuck shit up, take names, keep that back backing. least commonly injured part of the spine for a reason. its built different. this shit protects ur spinal cord, provides attachments to your ribs, supports your chest and abdomen, and literally lets yr body move. objective best bones. [via. @ithinkthereforisam]

Scalpula: Scapula sweep!! Those are your angel wings. Watching your Cavs shoulder blades move under their skin while they carry a big sword is the best part of being a necro. They're also just such a good plane of bone they're perfect for breaking up into little pieces for bone adepts to store in their pockets. Also the attachment point for a bunch of muscles!!and the yummy little joint cavity… [via. @kavkisser]

#polls #tumblr polls #skeletal system #tibia #fibula #vertebrae #scalpula

(450 notes)

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR HASN'T COMMENTED ON HIS FIRST AND SECOND'S SAINTS DISAPPEARANCES

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

For my Edenite followers this is like if gun disappeared

#ARE THEY DEAD??? #Bro r we upping the fascism factor #STAFF THAT TAG IS A JOKE. I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF INSURGENCY

12,345 notes

🫀 gorewanker Follow

I swear they're like the septum piercing havers of cavaliering 😭😭😭

🦀 xx-0ct0g0ne-xx Follow

Ah. So you're unable to handle the pressures which are expected of the average Eighth House devotee, and as such, fall back upon insecure insults. Get a life + Praying for you + L.

(923 notes)

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

holy shit tower prince announcement this is crazy. liveblog time

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

TRANSMASC AWE??????????

(3,891 notes)

🦷 bitingyoubitingyoubitingyoubitingyoux3 Follow

(14,088 notes)

☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-d34d-yet Follow

NOT YET BUT WE ALWAYS COME BACK

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ERIDAN: shit man this wwizard wwar is fucked. i just saww a guy clap his hands together n say "the ten hells" or some similar shit n evveryone around him turned inside out, had their tibias explode and then disappeared. no one evven blinked wwhen he did that. thats howw common shit like this is. my ass is castin frostbite n levvel twwo poison. i think i just heard "powwer word: scrunch" twwo groups ovver. i gotta get the fuck outta here

ROXY: wait time out. ur in here and ur not immortal!!? and ure only lvl 2 or 3? holy SHIT go find somewhere 2 hide! or powerlevel ig but still!!

ERIDAN: wwh. wwhy are you shocked? i thought wwe wwere bein wwizard conscripted? wwere wwe not? WWHY AM I HERE

ROXY: U GOT WIZARD CONSCRIPTED? IM HERE FOR FUN, WHY ARE YOU HERE?!?!

ROSE:

I SUMMON XESLANAYAG THE IMPENETRABLE.

ERIDAN: FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCK man it only gets WWORSE

[rabbiteclair]

game development sims are about envisioning a better world where the hit games this year are

Bonchy Boy VIII, the latest entry in the most critically acclaimed RPG series of all time, which is apparently about dwarves in a religious war, and definitely was not supposed to be this universe's equivalent of Final Fantasy or I would have named the first entry something better than fucking Bonchy Boy

Carred and Feathered 6: 2 Whiskey 2 Risky, the latest entry in the most critically acclaimed racing series of all time, which promotes irresponsible alcohol consumption habits (and spiritual sequel to the fourth installment, Carred and Feathered 4: Risky Whiskey)

Skeletons of France: Tibias in Tibet, the fourth entry in the Skeletons of France fighting game series which is apparently about French skeletons going around the world getting into fights (with other skeletons presumably). also highly respected but it's frankly a cash grab where the skeletons just go to whatever area is thematically popular with consumers at the moment

Who The Fuck Asked For This? the building sim that started out as me making Minecraft as a joke and I just kept having to make joking 'haha lol who would play a game about mining and crafting, that's a wild concept' titles for the sequels

and of course Kissaroo From Me 2 U, the sequel to the visual novel Angel Kissaroos which was so impactful that it made angel-themed visual novels the major video game fad for like two years in the late 2010s

[bootwearingfairy]

ok I don't really do this but i got a little carried away. lmk if u like it 👉👈

Your eyes come back into focus, your head ringing like a bell. The concrete floor comes up to meet you quicker than anticipated; your knees take the brunt of the impact that reverberates through your body. The pain comes in slowly at first, and then all at once.

You do a quick mental diagnostic: concussion, three ribs, right tibia fracture, probable right ulna fracture, and-- that one's new. Blinding white heat in your chest that could be a lung, could be a broken sternum.

You become aware of sounds that you haven't been processing, trying to shake yourself free of the daze you find yourself in.

He's speaking to you.

"We always end up here, you know."

You look up at the smoking wreckage of your latest doomsday machine, being rent apart by that bastard in the cape. He's ripping your months of back breaking work to shreds, thousands of hours of elegant mathematical precision--gone. You try to speak, but your vocal cords don't cooperate. You can feel the bruises in the shape of his fingers already forming on your throat.

"Always the same. You weasel out of prison, hot-glue some scrap metal together, hurt a few hundred people. I beat you into the dirt for a couple of minutes. And as soon as you can walk next year, it's the same thing again."

You manage to get to your feet, spending a half glance to tentatively place weight on your leg. You instantly realized your mistake. By the time you look back up, his hands are already on you. You feel his fingers brush against the other side of your ribcage.

"All this just for a few minutes of my attention."

He presses his hand into you, no harder than one might open a door. Coming from him, it's like getting hit by a train.

Two more of your ribs fold like paper straws as your body is propelled several meters away from him. Your back slams into an immovable object; the brick walls of your warehouse. No, that can't be right, you were four dozen meters from a wall in any direction.

Before your body can catch up to your perception, his arms are threading underneath yours, his fingers lacing behind your head. Full nelson? Really? So primitive--

Your cheek meets the floor, his arms holding yours in place. It feels like being hogtied by steel cable.

"You're so fucking pathetic."

His snarl against your neck doesn't sound like anything he's ever said before. Come to think of it, he normally pulls his punches a lot more than this too.

You suddenly become very aware that the world's most powerful entity is pinning you to the floor, face down and ass up. Your legs are kicked open so hard you fear your hips may be displaced.

"We have some time before the cops get here to clean up."

He tears your pants away like tissue paper.

"I'm gonna enjoy every second."

Hey hi hello holy fuck I'm losing my actual fucking mind about this. I would love it if you came back for a part 2 cause I'm very invested with this story and concept.

[exhaustedhomo]

if i die young use my healthy young person bones to make a dagger or smth.

a femur should be of sufficient size for a small sword. for the rest, idk, u can use my ulnas to make hair pins, the tibia can be a smaller knife— fuck it, turn it into ornate chopsticks or smth.

just idk don’t cremate me, or bury me, give my organs to science and make something out of my bones. i promise you my immortal soul won’t mind if someone makes earrings out of my phalanges, it’d be fucking awesome

[friiday-thirteenth]

SINCE SOMEONE HAS TAKEN IT UPON THEMSELF TO YELL AT ME TO SLEEP AT AN APPROPRIATE TIME, HERE'S SOME HOT TAKES:

maths is good and fun and I genuinely enjoy it and that's not weird that's just how I am. I am speed running the year above me's maths and I am loving it. numbers make brain go brr.

I'm doing a thing called maths buddy and I'm just. going right through the year 11 work and it's so much fun? like, im on algebra but in class we're looking at bivariate data (we're looking at pie graphs soon yay!) and I love it so much. everything about maths is ten out of ten. also, at the end of the year we do a trial ncea test and get sorted into our classes for next year and I am really hoping to get into 101 bc that leaves calculus open later on!

ALSO

we did science today and learnt about the circulatory system and yes it's good but I also am going to list the bones now (disclaimer: this is a year ten science class. plz do not take all I say as fact although like 90% is right. if somethings wrong plz correct me!)

cranium + mandible (skull), scapula (shoulder blade), clavicle (collarbone, it's designed to break), humerus (upper arm bone), radius + ulnar (ulnar is along pinkie side of arm I think(I broke the top off of it last year. bones are crunchy), sternum, ribs, pelvis, femur (if u break that u fucked up. it's big and strong for a reason.), tibia + fibula (big + small leg bones, fibula is really hard to find in a chicken leg), and then ankle bones and feet. in the book the toe bones were called phalanges but the teacher said something abt metatarsal (t for toes) and metacarpal (ur fingers). And then the ear has like. the anvil, hammer and stirrup but idk abt the stirrup.

now the circulatory system

you breathe in air. goes down trachea (theres a flap in ur throat that stops food going down ur trachea and I think that is very cool). filters into lungs, absorbed into blood. goes thru the heart, into the arteries (although I'll talk abt them later) out thru the body, into capillaries (the tiny tiny versions of veins & arteries) and comes back thru the veins to the heart,goes to lungs and gets re-oxygenated because it was spreading oxygen to the body that whole time

VEINS AND ARTERIES R WEIRD

arteries are almost all sort of kinda the parts that bring oxygenated blood throughout the body. veins almost kinda sort of bring it back through the body to be re-oxygenated. but the thing is, you've got the pulmonary vein and the pulmonary artery, and I cant remember the vein ones job, but the pulmonary artery brings deoxygenated blood into the lungs. (pulmonary means to the lungs, I think.)

I can't remember much abt the heart, but it has two ventricles (left and right), two atriums (once again, left and right), the superior vena cava (literally, the one on top), and the inferior vena cava (the one below), the septum (which separates the two ventricles/atriums I think), the aorta (which is pronounced a-orta whereas in Maori, the native language of my country (I am European Pakeha tho) you would put the a and o together to make an "oh" kinda sound (I'm shit at explaining sounds sorry)), then you've the pulmonary thingies. the diaphragm is a muscle that pulls ur lungs down, and people with strong diaphragms have really good opera voices (kinda random but yeah). also one side of your heart is stronger (has more muscle we said in class) than the other bc one pumps blood to the lungs and the other, stronger one pumps it all around the body. that's all I can remember sorry (I've forgotten stuff, I can sense it).

oh!!! we dissected a chicken leg! bone marrow is pretty lit. the skin is weird and adipose (fat tissue) is gross. I liked ripping the muscles apart tho. in the coming lessons (the one after next I think) we get to dissect a pig heart! its gonna be really fun!

also we talked abt how Latin used to be taught a lot and now I'm sad I don't get to learn it, as in, I'd learn it as opposed to any other language because that's how I am!

Also. weird thing is, I could've learnt spanish this year but I didnt bc I hated the teacher (: but hes my Dean's partner so yeah. my Dean's pretty chill tho, she's my english teacher.

English is great! we're reading holes by Louis sachar and I've already read it, so I'm speed running the questions hehe. that is, if I cbf. tomorrow we get to silent read (in class not the library which is kinda sad, in the library I can hide alone in a corner) which will be fun.

this degenerated from hot takes to. not hot takes but just facts n shit, but anyway! now that that's out of my system, goodnight! I hope everyone who sees this has a lovely day/night/time of day for them!! and also a lovely week. you deserve it :)

[malleux]

YOU WHAT omg😭😭 HOPE U FEEL BETTER SOON <33

YEAH LMAO BROKE MY MF LEG IN OCTOBER my life is honestly a fucking movie

TW IM TELLING THE STORY SO DONT READ IF U HAVE A WEAK STOMACH

so i’m a cheerleader right i compete for my college and we were trying a new skill and i’m pretty small so i’m the flyer/the one getting thrown in the air and i wasn’t caught correctly so my legs hit the ground and my femur and tibia hit together so hard that my tibia cracked and broke. my acl and mcl are also sprained and i have issues with my hamstring and meniscus that are requiring a cortisone shot as well as getting fluid removed from my knee

i just got off crutches monday and all this month has been physical therapy with walking and putting weight on it, then in december it will be running and jumping, and then in january i can work on tumbling and flying again!! i should be back and good before our first competition in february

[chopperisagoat]

Heart Fulfiller.

So, from the previous post I’ll express my excitement about chapter 996! I must state that I haven’t caught up with the manga (and idk still don’t want to) but this chapter is really exceptional.......... so okay, this post consist of chapter 996′s panels which make me so genuinely happy, of course through my personal preference and view, very subjective, I know. lol.

To be very honest, I don’t know the detail of conflict happening in Onigashima, but on my knowledge (just based on tumblr dashboard and twitter timeline lol) the condition is heating up and somehow it looked like a battlefield. 

AAAAAAAAN TA-DA my daughter OTAMA and her pet is COMING!

oh.........the chills when seeing this, my hair follicles were dancing, lol.

“We got a ride on the enemy ship” 

Not going to argue and theorize on whomst, just want to appreciate her, HELLO MY LITTLE BRAVE GIRL SAMURAI YOU ARE SO BRAVE MY LOVE, a golden and pure heart, She is coming, she is ready to help, she manage to get there, SHE!

ASDFBJAHSBRBFAIEBFAIERUBFR????????????? WHAT????????? HIM? 

Okay, maybe another time I’ll make a post about my kind of attachment mine and cora were, but for the brief info; he has a special chamber in my heart. hehe. AND I’ve already expect that I’m not going to see him again until the end of One Piece, but BUT BUT ........996 is magical. HELLO, THERE, I LOVE YOU.

WHUAAAAAT TRAFALGAR???????????????????

“You’re the only one I would tell this” and I’m like......... OK LAW OK I forgive what you did back then after Dressrosa when he said “leave me alone” to Robin LMAOOOOSDFASNFDF help that’s one of Law major turn off FOR ME, please it’s FOR ME, okay........ I wanna break both of his tibia at that time, I’m so salty like wtf law are u on your period, she’s just being nice lol. 

And I think this panel giving him another purpose, his own purpose. Okay Law so you have your own priority and agenda ok I’m rooting for you!

MY RED SATAN AND KILLER ARE COMING HELLO!!!!!!!!!

HEHEHHE FINALLY they are coming hello hello love, oh also, the metals, lol please make this mesmerizing later dear animator I FUCKING BEG you. And I really love when those peeps addressing him as “Eustass Captain Kid” ….sounds very sexy??!! Or is it just me, ok that’s just me. 

LOOK AT HIM, LOOK AT HIS umm scyhte and his flexible movement?!!!!! 

Oh also, Kid always seeks Killer’s answer like, well everytime and KILLER ALWAYS SO SO SANE facing this mf red satan. What a smart and flexible boyfie<3 *cries*

“our enemy is the world’s strongest pirate, you can’t have too much”

oopsie, always so resourceful, so calculated, damn Killer.  *drools*

RIIIIIIIIGHT, okay, end of my ramblings; about what could make my heart racing so fast, from just a chapter, wow so this is the feeling how a chapter could make your heart beat faster, you feeling happier and fulfilled. Hardly cant wait for what’s coming up, really! hehe, anyway thank you for reading this crap if you do, I really appreciate it! 

[thunderon]

(About The Body) I'm just in the camp where it's like. Why! Why. I really just want it to be "harrow crushed on the only thing that could reject her" but also because its IMPLIED The Body will be coming to life at some point it's going to be... how to say... a touch uncomfortable for everyone involved??? For harrow, for gideon, etc; Unless Muir seriously plans on having TB humor harrows infatuation. It's just a bit icky imho

damn right it’s going to be uncomfortable! and you and i are very much of the same mindset here on TB.

ya know i honestly expected to be alone in my opinion because i thought it might come off as “girl bitches about romanticizing dead people in book about homoerotic catholic-coded necromancy”. and it’s funny cuz i read the whole soup scene in htn like “yes harrow tear up gideons ortus’ fucking bowels with ur soup that u fed him made from ur own tibia! you go, girl boss!” but when harrow called TB “beloved” or whatever and i was like “ew that’s gross” lmao.

[lostinpensamientos]

Drama alert: a veces odio mi grupo de amigos

Contexto: reunion navideña en epocas de covid, cuando (a) ya se puede ir a restaurantes con protocolos y espacios abiertos , (b) una está en finales (c) yo estoy yendo a la oficina presencialmente mientras que (d) los  otros 2 están haciendo home office (e) ellos tres viven en distritos vecinos mientras que yo me mude al otro extremo de la ciudad.

Integrantes:

1.Mi amiga de la infancia que es practica y terca as fuck , tacaña y cuando algo no es como quiere se pone en su plan pero actua como que no, siempre tiene que ser mejor para ella porque no entiende que es termino “compromised” donde ambas partes sacrifiquen un poco.

2. Mi amigo que me acompaño toda la u y que es super flexible y le entra a todo pero al mismo tiempo no sabe nada y nada es su culpa

3. la amiga que nos dice cuanto nos quiere , primer puesto en todo toda su vida pero  no contesta en el grupo porque siempre está ocupada pero ahiii mirala con sus otras amiga puras historias en instagram. y para el conflicto no hizo nada malo es una tibia as fuck porque estaba in for the plan.

Situación:

Hemos estado hablando de una salida navideña porque no nos vemos desde enero y estamos en diciembre. Iba a ser sábado pero por temas de arreglos navideños YO dije que no podía. Mi amiga (1) dijo que no tenia final el Lunes. Le pregunte si 100% segura porque yo sé que la semana de exámenes es difícil pero dijo que sí. Amigo (2) dijo que sí. Amiga (3) dijo que sí pero tipo 7:30, lo cual me pareció tarde porque hay toque de queda y en la zona que asumí que nos veríamos varias cosas cerraban tipo 8-9. Amiga (1) pregunta que porqué esa zona. Y yo : (?) porque es el punto medio y hemos ido antes por ahí. Y como que no creo que nadie vaya más lejos porque (i) si queremos quedarnos lo mas tarde hasta antes del toque de queda, lo mas justo, es que sea un lugar que se encuentre a igual distancia/tiempo de nuestras casas. Y osea al final yo pierdo porque ellos puedes compartir un taxi porque están relativamente cerca entre ellos y yo me tengo que volver/pagar sola, así que no me parece loco.

¿Cómo confirme que era el punto medio? Utilice google maps/ waze para saber la distancia entre nuestras casas y la zona de encuentro.

Amiga (1) igual dijo que no le parecía que era punto medio pero O.K. También creo que más se desanimo porque amiga (3) maneja pero dijo que no iría en carro porque es de sus papás y no la dejan manejar de noche. Y pues también tiene sentido porque el estacionamiento es un poco caro por ahí. 

Para esto los he tratado de llamar por WhatsApp para quedar bien y nadie me contestaba y yo ponía que me avisaran cuando estén libres para ver la logística porque ellos querían llegar TIPO 7:30 pero me causaba ansiedad porque somos peruanos  y yo SÉ que ellos no  pero YO soy puntual AF entonces insistía en que si podía ser antes por la hora en que cerraban las cosas. O si tenían ideas de a qué lugar ir.... Ni mrd.  Un meme aquí y un meme allá. 

Luego me comenzó a preocupar que no me contestaran y que puede que por navidad todo este lleno y la probabilidad de contagio sea más alto. Les dije esta bien que sea ahora o mejor lo pasamos para después de navidad. Y como  yo soy la única que preguntaba para que sobre la salida añadí “o ya les llegue al pincho” y ahi si como contestaron que, efectivamente les llegué al pincho pero como ya tenia su atención les dije que me preocupaba la logística y que por eso quería hacer una llamada pero que nadie me contestara. En esta interacción solo participamos (1), (2) y yo. (3)  ni mierda.

Fastforward hoy. Averigüe que el centro comercial que esta en esa zona y es casi todo al aire libre  tiene abierto sus restaurantes hasta la 11. Así que hice una llamada al grupo y solo me contestó (2) y le dije que fácil íbamos  ahí y  si él podia ir más temprano conmigo para que me de el encuentro cuando salga de la chamba y en todo caso paseamos un rato y vemos los restaurantes para poner la reserva una vez estemos ahí y no nos tengamos que preocupar por eso y me dijo SÍ está buena la idea. 

Amiga (3) durante la semana subía historias de que se veía con otras amigas y vimos que en a mañana estaba montando bicicleta.

Le digo a amiga (1) por privado que nos avise para conversar cuando termine su examen para coordinar lo de mañana. Estoy en una llamada grupal con otros amigos cuando contesta en el grupo. Que mañana como yo no podía ellos (1,2,3) se iban a juntar y que conmigo el próximo fin. Y yo ?????????????????????????????????????.

Y reforcé mi posición de que que yo tenia preocupaciones de la hora entre otras cosas. ¿SABEN QUE ME DIJO?. “Ah, si. Por eso será en en mi casa”. 

Porque obviamente es más fácil para ellos verse porque viven cerca y pueden que hacer un esfuerzo mínimo. 

Les reclamé que eso que nunca me avisaron de eso. Y ella defendía que yo  había tirado al tacho los planes y que encima ya lo habían pospuesto por mí. Y yo digo : “Entiendo eso y con mayor razón me esfuerzo a salga bien. Somos amigos todo se conversa y que he hecho preguntas razonables pero que obvio suenan mal porque no escuchan mi tono de desesperación porque no me contestan”. 

Entre esas líneas pregunté cuándo hablaron de eso si yo acababa de hablar con amigo (2) y que no me dijo nada al respecto. Y amiga (1) dijo “ah GG por él” y él dijo “osea yo supuse que cómo me hablaste de eso lo otro (su cena de tres) ya no salia” pero no me dijo nunca esa cena y su opción de excluirme para hacer el minimo esfuerzo.

Y de repente llega amiga (3) diciendo que ENTIENDE AMBAS POSTURAS, TRANQUILIDAD.?????????????

¡Maldita tibia!  Eres la que menos responde el grupo y has sido cómplice de la otra reunión. Y ¿Ahora eres la puta voz de la razón? ¿Quién putadas de crees?

 Al menos respeto a amiga (1) porque defiende su punto. Ósea si te hubieras dedicado a contestar un poquito al chat grupal con toda tu sabiduría entonces TAL VEZ no hubiésemos llegado a esto, pero NO, en su lugar, estuviste con tus otros amigos porque a este grupo lo das por sentado. Y recién ahora cuando vez la posibilidad de queda mal, ¿preguntas sí podemos hacer llamada? Ya vi tus prioridades, te trataré igual.

Pinche amigos, en cuarentena me asegure de que a cada uno le llegue su regalo a su CASA y no me pueden negar eso porque entre uds saben que fui YO la que insistía como mierda para organizar el zoom, la videollamada , los globos, la torta o lo que sea. ¿ O no, amiga (3) ? que fui hasta tu casa (desde el otro lado de la ciudad) para dejarte personalmente los putos brownies cuando los demás se hacían paltas por pagar. 

¿Y ASÍ me devuelven el favor?, sin contestarme, asumiendo lo peor de mí, y sin querer hacer el mínimo esfuerzo de quedar.  Me duele que hoy encontré tiempo para  hacerles tarjetas de navidad en acuarela DIY....

O.K.

De verdad me duele porque pensé que éramos amigos y que especialmente en este está época nos apreciábamos más pero...

Feliz Navidad, pendejos.

[archived18482939204848]

just because you break 2 bones in your body doesn't make u disabled. THe fact that u claim to be disabled when you clearly aren't shows how dumb you are.

I didn’t break my fucking tibia or twist my knee and be stuck in a brace for a few months and then happily move on with my life, I got my fucking femur snapped in half so violently it was almost a compound fucking fracture, aka when the bone fucking punctures through the skin. the human femur is slanted at an angle(compared to femurs in chimpanzees, which are straight and parallel) because it bears the weight of the entire human body to stand upright. It is one of the strongest bones in the body and one of the most painful ones to break. Femur breaks don’t fucking happen cuz you crash on a bike or fall out of a tree, they aren’t supposed to break. They only break in older people who have weak bones OR, in my case, getting hit by a distracted driver in a big ass jeep who decided to try and make a swift turn through a crosswalk. It’s been 6 months and there’s still a visible break in the x rays, I was wheelchair bound and bedridden for an entire month, on opioids from the amount of pain I was in, and have had to undergo some of the most painful and expensive physical therapy to be able to bend my knee past a 90 degree angle. I will have a metal bar in my leg until I die. I will have permanent joint damage. It will be years before I can even wear heels. I can’t walk properly without mobility assistance and I have a visible limp. Do you seriously think I gain any special tumblr points from this? Do you think that when I was having crutches rub welts into my skin and having my muscles atrophy in my back and thighs and stomach from no use I was thinking “woah!!!! I’m a Disabled now!!!!!!!!! I can’t wait for this to give me special clout!!!” I told myself I shouldn’t respond to this but like. Please shut up you want to shut up so badly 🖤❤️

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

oh my god you should totally stick fake tattoos on yourself

that would be so awesome and i bet they would look great under the x-ray shirt!! also if ur parents are against tattoos like mine are that would give them a small heart attack and idk about u but i love freaking out my parents at least a little bit every once in a while - keeps life interesting ya know? but i love the spatula idea too it's so chaotic it's pleasing my little chaotic heart

I am very curious to see how much they’d show up! I’ve never really discussed tattoos with my parents but they’ve always let me do anything I want to my hair so I imagine they’d hold the same attitude towards tattoos. Whatever makes me happy. They’d still probably be like wtf is that??? though lmao. But it’d be tricky to apply one myself. I’d need help in that endeavor. 

oh yeah dude i’m good at freaking my parents out a lil every now and then when my heart rate spikes to 180 and i’m having really bad chest pain and shortness of breath or when they need to call an ambulance for abdomen pain i’m having y’know the usual freakouts we give our parents (sdfkljhsdf i’m so sorry mum and dad)

even better, you go to a museum and steal something like a t-rex bone and hide it under your shirt and security is like yo ??? the fuck ??? give that back ??? rexy needs his tibia (is that a bone idk). and it’s like man, i didn’t steal anything, you’ve got no proof. meanwhile a crowd has gathered looking at the large bone everyone can see through your shirt. except you, of course. your shirt isn’t an actual x-ray, it doesn’t show bones, unless..................

[cherokeesun]

In July 2013 I had a bad motorbike accident ( yes, I’m a biker) ... it happened in the Lake District which is In the north east of the UK... I had gone to visit my boyfriend for the weekend and didn’t really wanna ride back home to South Shields on the Sunday... the weather wasn’t great and there had been a fatal accident on the road I was going to be on, so we decided to go see a bike show for a few hours until the toad cleared. It rained, then the sun came out, then it rained again, same old pattern all morning. At the bike show, I saw my ex: the one I had fallen madly in love with at a rally about a year before, whom, for different reasons ( will I ever find out the truth????) I’d only met up with once after that famous rally. That was actually Ben Hur, my favorite.... so you may think: wtf? Only seen twice ? Bf? U nuts? Yeah.... as I said I was besotted.... we used to be on the phone for hours on end, we had plans, but some people just didn’t want us together... am pretty sure we’d have been a hurricane together lol Anyway, back to that day of the accident.... so 3 of us ( my then bf and his mate) show up at that rally hosted by an MC and my eyes pop out as I see HIM..... OMG... pretend not to c him.... don’t risk trouble... don’t risk your heart getting broke again.... too late... it’s broken already.... We manage to look at the bikes displayed and have some lunch ( of course I said nothing) and then it was time to ride off again.... I get on my bike and wait for the other 2 to come... I see HIM approaching me, wanting contact, I bend over pretending to check something-not a fucking clue what- on my bike, I avoid his eye contact, pretend pretend pretend..... my then bf arrives and I tell him my ex is there n to pls give me a kiss or something... He does, and we leave...We we’re riding 35-40mph as going through villages and at some point after about 10 min. a car stops to turn right, the mate overtakes it from the left, I brake and bike skids, I get it under control but have to break again and at that point I’m doing only about 10mph? I skid, control, make eye contact with car driver as in : don’t move coz I gotta overtake fm the right.... it’s slow motion... it’s all happening in time lapse... it’s only a split second .... I crash into rear right end of the car.....I wake up on my back and see this guy hovering over me with glacial beautiful blue eyes telling me I’m gonna be OK and that he’s a doctor.... my only worry: is witchy bike OK?? Then a woman appears calming me down.... I find out a copper on vacation....I feel no pain... I just want my bike to be safe! then I end up in hospital in Carlisle... paramedics had arrived quickly on the scene and had given me blessed morphine. I was flying high as a kite! But I did remember to phone the pharmacy where I was supervisor that I wasn’t able to come to work.... ugh... that pharmacy....that company.... I felt happier flying high with a broken leg.... I then find out it wasn’t just the leg, but also my right shoulder.... After about 4 days of waiting for my metal implants to arrive, and 4 hours in the theatre, they tell me I also had multi fractures in the knee besides the tibia and fibula . They then put me on another ward and that’s where my hell started. But that’s another story lol The reason I’m telling you this is coz I went swimming yesterday! Yey! After so many years, I managed to motivate myself, ignore the pain and go for it! Only did 4 lengths mind! And excercized in the pool! And it felt like I had huge lead balls around my leg with someone continuously pinching me hard.... but.... I kept motivating myself by loooking at the jacuzzi lol and then .... a nice treat at a restaurant : veggie burger, sweet potatoes and a pint of Guinness!!!! All in all: a great day!!!!

[gukyi]

ice prince | jjk

⇒ summary: when, due to inexplicable and total clumsiness, your reliable, talented ice dancing partner of five years breaks his leg right before the largest competition of your life, desperate times call for desperate measures. and for a brief, brief moment, you think that everything might actually end up not-that-shitty, until you find out that the aforementioned desperate measures go by the name of jeon jungkook.

⇒ figure skating!au, enemies to lovers!au

⇒ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⇒ word count: 22k (when will she (i) stop)

⇒ genre: fluff, very minor angst that probably shouldn’t even be listed

⇒ warnings: mentions of bruising + stuff from falling

⇒ a/n: i honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me. one day i’m finishing up a 28k jungkook enemies to lovers fic and suddenly two weeks later i have another 22k jungkook enemies to lovers fic on my hands. tagging @cinnaminsvga​ and @workofteaguk​ as a thanks for the support and my relentless screaming!

⇒ DISCLAIMER: i am not a professional figure skater and this does not accurately represent the lives of professional figure skaters. it’s a fic, for fuck’s sake. don’t take the logistics of it seriously.

check out the post-script drabble here!

It starts with a broken leg.

For someone so skilled at figure skating, so easily able to do leaps and twirls and lifts, Kim Taehyung is one hell of a klutz. He can’t walk without tripping over himself at least once on a good day, so imagine combining that with black ice on the roads from a terrible snowstorm the prior day. It’s the bad kind of snow, too, the kind that turns into slush when it hits the pavement, dirty slush that freezes over in the night to wreak all sorts of havoc.

Kim Taehyung texts you, two months before the biggest competition you’ve ever had in all of your years of ice dancing, and says:

[9:59 PM] rice dancer #1: remember how i was gonna go on that date after practice today?

[10:01 PM] you: o my god yes!!! how did it go!!!

[10:01 PM] rice dancer #1: it went pretty well rice dancer #1: he’s rlly cute and sweet n he wants me to teach him how 2 figure skate

[10:02 PM] you: dam bith look at she go!!! (she is you)

[10:03 PM] rice dancer #1: well,.,. on the way back.,. uh.. rice dancer #1: you know how it’s rly slippery rn

[10:04 PM] you: tae wtf did u do

[10:05 PM] rice dancer #1: i may or may not have slipped on the ice and broken my leg and currently be in the hospital getting a cast

[10:07 PM] you: TAE!!!!!!!!

And that’s the story of how all of your dreams shattered into a billion pieces right in front of your eyes, much like the bones in Taehyung’s leg.

The next day, you skip practice (much to Namjoon and Hoseok’s chagrin, you already know it) to go to the hospital during visitor hours. Taehyung told you he’d only need one day in the hospital before he’d be back on the one foot he’s allowed to use, so you’re making the most out of your visit. You pick up a bouquet of white roses from the local supermarket on your way. Once you register as a guest at the hospital, they bring you to his room, drab cinderblock walls lining the hallways on the way. When the nurse opens his door, you see him happily camped out in the hospital bed, bright orange cast elevated by fifteen pillows as he channel surfs through the hospital’s five different television stations. Taehyung sees you walk in with a murderous look on your face and quickly fumbles to turn off the TV.

“Y/N!” He cheers, though you can easily make out the fear in his eyes. “What… what brings you here?”

“I brought you something,” you say passive-aggressively as you waltz over to him, bouquet hidden behind your back. Taehyung’s face lights up at the notion of the gift, until you pull the flowers into view and hand them to him.

“White roses?” He asks, concerned as he looks down at them. “Don’t these symbolize death?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Because you’re fucking dead to me, Kim Taehyung!” Storming over, you start beating him with your fist, pounding his shoulders and forehead and chest as he curls into himself, shouting. You take all of your pent-up frustration out on him, not that he doesn’t deserve it.

“Stop! Stop! Y/N! I’m injured! How dare you!” He shouts in between your assaults, hands going up to protect his face from any more damage. You finally release him, standing up and exhaling heavily. You dust off your fingers before your arms cross in front of your chest.

“You deserved that,” you tell him honestly. “You little piece of shit.”

“I’m sorry, alright,” Taehyung says, wincing in pain as he adjusts himself so that he can sit up in his bed and face you properly. “Believe me, this hurts me just as much as it hurts you. And not just physically.”

“God, Taehyung,” you say, sighing deeply as your palms come up to your cheeks. You have no idea what the hell you’re supposed to do now that Taehyung’s incapacitated. Nationals is in two months and Taehyung, your ice dancing partner since you were fourteen, has a broken tibia. “What are we gonna do?” You ask him as you collapse onto his bed.

Taehyung leans over to rub your back. “We’ll be alright, Y/N. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Everything is not okay. You walk into the ice rink, helping Taehyung hobble around on the crutches he claims are outrageously uncomfortable (even though when offered a wheelchair, he had declined and said he needs to keep being mobile), to some very concerned coaches. Taehyung’s still got a bright smile on his face, one to match his fluorescent orange cast, but it’s obvious that the both of you have had a rough twenty-four hours, and it’s about to get even rougher.

“Look at you guys,” Namjoon says as he walks over, baseball cap on his head and clipboard in his hand. “Such good sports.”

“Hey, Coach,” Taehyung says awkwardly as you walk him over to a nearby bench. “Sorry about the, uh, unexpected turn of events.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung,” Namjoon says, patting his back with the wood of the clipboard. “It’s not your fault.”

Taehyung turns to you with his eyebrows raised, petty look on his face as if to say, “see, at least someone knows that I’m not the one to blame.” You scoff, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. It’s definitely his fault. What a klutz.

“What do we do, Coach?” You ask desperately, turning to Namjoon.

His eyes scan from you, to the rink, to Taehyung’s cast, to his clipboard. “It’s up to you, really.”

“Can we still drop out of the competition?” You ask, eyes wide.

“Drop out?” Taehyung asks, brows knitted together. He shoots up, nearly toppling over on his shattered leg and grabbing your arm for support. You jump at the contact, hands darting out to steady his body so he doesn’t break anything else.

“Yeah, drop out,” you repeat, nodding as you hold onto him. “I don’t wanna do the competition when my partner’s in a cast.”

Taehyung gapes at you like you’ve just suggested you perform your ice dancing program in the Mars polar ice caps. “But you’re so close! Nationals is two months away!” He says, seemingly outraged at the fact that you want to leave the competition despite the fact that his leg is literally wrapped up in plaster.

“Nationals is two months away and you can’t even walk!” You exclaim in return, making a show of the crutches he’s hobbling around on. “I don’t wanna do the damn program without you. You’re my partner.”

“But you could win this year!” Taehyung insists, tugging on your arm in desperation.

You nod. You could win this year. The program that Namjoon and Hoseok have come up with is gold-medal-worthy. And the fact that Taehyung is standing in front of you with a cast on his leg and crutches under his arms makes tears well up in your eyes. It’s like running through a tunnel without the end ever appearing in your view. It’s like climbing a tree and never being able to reach the highest branch. It’s like seeing the finish line within your grasp but never getting there.

“I know, I know,” you say dejectedly, looking down to your feet. “But there’s always next year, when you’re better.”

Taehyung looks scandalized.

“Hoe, don’t do it,” Taehyung says, grasping onto your arm and looking hopelessly into your eyes. It’s easily the most romantic thing that the two of you have ever done together, and you’ve been ice dancing together for five years.

“Hoe, I’m gonna do it,” you say in response, placing your palm atop his. “I don’t want to perform without you.”

“You have been working really hard these past few months to perfect your routine,” Namjoon supplies unhelpfully, his reason getting the better of him. Can’t he just let you mope around about your lost gold medal in peace? “I would easily be able to recruit someone to be your partner in his place.”

“But—” You say, already knowing fully well that you’re eventually going to cave into their requests. The look on Taehyung’s face is too heartbreaking for you to have to keep staring at it, even if competing in Nationals means you won’t do it with him. What will he do without you? What will you do without him? You know each other’s bodies, motions, touches like the backs of your hands, you skate together so effortlessly, as if you were a single person. What will happen when that sense of security is removed? When you skate with someone foreign, a feeling you won’t recognize.

“Seriously, Y/N. You have a real shot at getting gold, and if not, at least being on the podium,” Namjoon continues. “You’ve never been more prepared for something like this.”

“But if I don’t compete, we’ll have more time to prepare for next year?” You suggest, grimacing as you hunch your shoulders. Taehyung, if possible, looks like he’s about to take his hand off of the crutch keeping him in place just to sock you in the side. It’s clear that you’re about to cave in and that any last-ditch efforts to drop out will ultimately fail, but there’s no harm in reaching for the unreachable anyway.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, frowning. He’s staring at you with that disappointed look on your face, the one he always gives you whenever you make a terrible pun about ice skating or tease him about his love life. “Do it.”

“Why are you so adamant about this?” You ask him, a final attempt to see if you can sway him. “Your leg is broken and you can’t compete. What’s it to you if I do?”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” Taehyung says, as if he thinks you need some sort of reminder. You’re not gonna forget the fact that the two of you have been glued at the hip for years now, before you even became ice dancing partners. “You’ve been dreaming for years about getting gold, and it’s right in front of you. I’m not gonna stop you from achieving your goal.”

You look to him, shoulders sinking. You know you’ve lost, you know that Taehyung’s good-hearted nature, Namjoon’s sage words of advice, and your unrelenting desire to win are all keeping you in this competition, even without the one person you couldn’t replace if you tried.

“Fine,” you say, sighing as Taehyung and Namjoon high-five each other. “I’ll stay in the competition, but only because I know you’re gonna be whining about it for the next twelve decades if I don’t.”

Taehyung smiles. “Works for me!”

“I guess I need to go get geared up then, Coach?” You ask, your hand coming down to pat the duffel bag on your shoulder. You come prepared. “Who’s gonna be Tae’s replacement?”

“Go get changed,” Namjoon says, motioning to the locker room across the rink. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re gonna kick everyone’s asses, Y/N!” Taehyung calls as you trudge off, already regretting this decision. “Mine included!”

The pale blue door to the locker rooms opens ten minutes later as you walk out, skates and practice clothes on. On the other side of the rink, you see Taehyung and Namjoon talking with an indistinct third person, who you are assuming is going to be your partner for the next two months. You can’t quite make out who it is, but as you walk over, you quickly rack your brain for all of the other ice dancers that might be Namjoon’s choice, though you can’t come up with any that match the person in question.

Slowly, you approach the group, watching as Taehyung laughs to something that said indistinct third person has said. He must be an ice dancer, since regular figure skaters don’t know some of the tricks that ice dancers engage in and pairs skaters are too busy trying to throw themselves around on the ice to pay attention to ice dancing.

And then, he comes into view.

“Y/N!” Taehyung cries as he pulls you into his body, wrapping an arm around you as you’re pressed up against his crutch as it digs uncomfortably into your back. “Namjoon’s got your guy,” he says happily, motioning to him. “This is—”

“Jeon Jungkook?” You ask as your mouth drops open, eyes blinking wildly at the offending figure in front of you.

He’s standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, like him having to ice dance is such an inconvenience to the rest of his daily activities. You didn’t even know he could ice dance. For as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been the company’s top male figure skater, so skilled on the ice because his heart is practically made out of it. All of the awards he’s won have gone to his head at this point, and you make an effort every day you are at the rink to not have to interact with him in any way.

“Don’t look so disappointed to see me, Y/N,” Jungkook drawls, making you roll your eyes. This is why you try to avoid him at all costs, and here he is, as your future ice dancing partner. “I’m doing this for you.”

“You’re doing this because Coach is forcing you too, but alright, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you respond, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m willingly giving up my time as a figure skater to help you at Nationals and you don’t even care? Some partner you are,” Jungkook says, scoffing as he turns away from you. He’s tapping his guard-cladded skate on the floor in disinterest, each click slowly rapping away at each rational thought in your brain.

You exhale, turning to stare up at Jungkook with fire in your eyes and rage in your heart, and you storm out of the rink, marching off in anger since you know that any more time spent with him and you’ll probably explode. The biting cold of the winter air has no effect on you as you cool down outside, letting your breathing come to a steady beat as you close your eyes, taking in the breeze.

Of course, out of all of the people in the world, you had to be paired up with Jeon Jungkook. Your luck’s always been rotten. First, Taehyung breaks his leg, second, your replacement partner ends up being the one skater at the company you make conscientious efforts to avoid whenever possible. Sometimes, Life’s funny that way, how she teases you and makes you think that everything is going swimmingly before she dumps a whole bunch of oil into the water. That’s what this is, having to work with Jungkook or kissing your medal goodbye. Oil in the water.

You don’t hear the door open, too consumed in your own thoughts to care, until you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around, you half-expect it to be Jungkook, coming out to give you some snooty remark about giving up before prancing back to his solo activities. But instead, it’s Taehyung.

“You okay?” He asks, a soft hand placed on your shoulder as the other clings onto his crutch for dear life. He’s still getting the hang of using them.

“I’m a little salted,” you say bitingly.

“A little?” Taehyung says skeptically, eyebrows raised as he takes in your vengeful expression. “Dude, you’re practically boiling over with N-A-C-L. You might want to tone that down a bit.”

“I just—ugh!” You cry, kicking the air with your skate and hoping that your guard hasn’t broken from the force. Nothing is going right, it seems, from Taehyung breaking his leg to you being coerced into staying in the competition to finding out that of all people on this godforsaken Earth, you’ve been re-paired up with Jeon Jungkook, Ice Prince. All you can do is resort to physical aggression as you punch and kick the world around you as a big “fuck you” to whatever higher being is up there, fucking with you. “This sucks ass. I wanna drop out again.”

“Y/N, come on,” Taehyung says, soft hand on the small of your back. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“I do,” you say, nodding. Maybe you’re being too impulsive, but right now you and Jungkook can’t even have a conversation without the biting ice breaking through his words, and you don’t necessarily think that’s the best way to build trust for a sport so reliant on teamwork. “I can’t fucking stand him, Tae. I didn’t even know he could ice dance! Since when would anybody want to work with him?”

“That’s it, Y/N,” Taehyung says in his best group therapist voice. He rubs your back to keep the rest of you grounded as your head flies off into outer space. “Get fucking pissed now so you won’t later.”

“Tae, I wanna pull a stereotypical pop-punk band member and drop out,” you whine, clutching onto his arm as you begin to sink down into a sad squat.

Taehyung tugs you up, his strength even with a broken leg as he balances two crutches much heftier than yours. “You don’t really wanna drop out though, do you?” He asks sincerely even though he already knows the answer. “There’s a reason Coach picked Jungkook. It’s because he’s a god on the ice, you know that. With him, you’re guaranteed a medal. Don’t you want that?”

“But is a medal worth all of the suffering he will inevitably put me through? Because if I skin him alive before we can go to Nationals, he’s gonna die and I’m gonna have to deal with the repercussions,” you remind Taehyung.

“Please don’t skin him alive, he’s got a hoard of fangirls swarming him and his social media on the daily,” Taehyung says, mildly alarmed especially considering your slightly sarcastic yet also totally serious nature. Sometimes, he can’t tell if you’re joking or not, and that’s kind of the best part. Like right now. “They’ll murder you in an alleyway and I’ll never be able to see your dumbass face again.”

“This is all your fault, you fucker,” you tell him sharply. “If you weren’t such a clumsy little—”

“It was slippery and he was cute, alright? He asked me for my number. That’s important,” Taehyung says in return, staring you down. “Are you saying that you would rather me die than get a love life?”

“I’m not not saying that.”

“He’s not that bad, Y/N,” Taehyung says, sighing. “You can get through the next two months with him no problem.”

“Don’t you dislike him just as much?” You ask, thinking back to a multitude of prior occurrences where Taehyung has voiced his disdain for the self-proclaimed Ice Prince, when you were walking out of practice, watching him on the rink, passing him by at regional competitions. This is why it’s so peculiar to see him encouraging you to follow through with this heinous plan, because it’s not like Taehyung likes Jungkook any more than you do.

Alright, maybe a little more. You don’t know what it is about Jungkook but his entire existence just rubs you the wrong way. Cold, aloof, entitled, and kind of a major asshole.

“He’s not as bad as I once thought he was,” Taehyung says warily, finally realizing that maybe he should be careful of what words he chooses to use in front of you when discussing whatever relationship you share with Jeon Jungkook, for the sake of his own safety if nothing else.

You smack his shoulder, mildly offended. Taehyung gasps, unable to rub his shoulder due to his inexperience with casts and the fact that he will definitely fall on his ass if he removes his hand from the aluminum. “You’re taking his side?”

Taehyung frowns. “I’m taking Coach’s side.”

If there was a way for your eyeballs to roll so far back in your head you would be able to hear them jingling around, loose in your skull, it would have already happened by now. “Don’t get all philosophical on me, Tae. It’s not that deep.”

“But Coach says that—and I agree with him—if you don’t do this, it’ll turn into a lost opportunity. You’re gonna regret this for the rest of your life if you don’t suck it up and do it,” Taehyung says softly, looking at you with delicate eyes.

You sigh, shoulders sinking as you slouch. “But he’s such a dickshit, Taehyung,” you whine, unable to come up with a better excuse for your desire to drop out once more.

“Damn, I don’t even think you’ve called me that,” Taehyung comments mindlessly. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he’s starting to get that antsy tone in his voice again, like a child begging their mother for a 25¢ gumball from the machine in the corner of the supermarket. “Please? I wanna see my best friend get a medal.”

He’s wearing you down and you know it, too, but you cross your arms and look away, refusing to give into his pleads.

“Pretty, pretty please? With a hazelnut Pirouette stick because I know how much you hate those candied cherries? For me?”

It’s always Taehyung that wears you down. He could, with enough whining, probably convince you to kill a man. Maybe this is a sign that you should stop being best friends with him, because you turn into putty in his hands every time he opens his mouth and he is a terrible person who abuses that knowledge and utilizes it to his advantage as much as possible.

“You’re a little piece of shit,” you say, but Taehyung knows you well enough to know that that’s code for “I give in, Taehyung you asshole,” and so he cheers.

“Yes!”

“I swear to the lord Jesus Christ and all of his dudebros that when you get out of that cast I’m beating you the fuck up,” you hiss, and Taehyung simply giggles. He knows you’re not serious, as menacing as you can be with glittery purple skate guards on your feet.

If Taehyung didn’t have crutches under his arms and a cast the color of a creamsicle on his leg, he’d probably be happily skipping into the skate rink. Reluctantly, you follow him inside after opening the door for him and spot Ice Prince and your coach chatting by the rink, Jungkook already geared up and ready to go.

“Got her!” Taehyung shouts loudly, causing several heads to turn to him as he meets Namjoon’s eyes with a crinkly grin. He motions to you, and you can tell that the contrast between his enthusiastic expression and your begrudging one must be amusing, if Jungkook trying to disguise his chuckles is anything to go by. “We got her, Coach! She’s in!”

“Shout it louder, would you? I don’t think enough of Antarctica has heard,” you say sarcastically, earning a teasing nose-scrunch from Taehyung in return as the two of you march up.

“Caved in?” Jungkook asks, sly smirk on his face as he looks you up and down, takes in your twitching features and glares back with as much force as you are him. “I suppose I’m not as repulsive as you thought I was.”

You scoff, brushing right by him as you tug off your skate guards and hop on the ice to warm up. If you’re gonna do this, might as well bite the bullet. “Oh, that’s sweet,” you call as you begin to skate figure-eights across the rink. “You think I’m doing this for you.”

Jungkook chuckles to himself, taking your arrival on the ice as something akin to a challenge. He removes his skate guards and joins you, gladly whizzing around on the ice alongside you as the two of you already find yourselves in a competition of sorts. This is precisely why you can’t work with him.

“Babe,” Jungkook says, catching your attention as you slow down ever so slightly—not enough for him to actually notice you paying attention to what words leave his lips—to listen to him. The pet name falls from his mouth with ease and sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t give a shit about whether or not you’re doing this for me, because either way I get another National medal to add to my collection. How many times can you say that about yourself?” Jungkook grins a shit-eating grin, and it makes you want to skate over and sock him in the jaw. “Oh, that’s right, none.”

You’re going to murder Taehyung once he gets out of that cast.

It’s obvious from the getgo that you and Jungkook cannot work together. Namjoon and Hoseok, your gracious and talented choreographer, had held out hope that you would be able to put aside your differences for three hours every day just so he could learn the routine and you could both move on with your lives, but it’s clear that’s not the case. Because the second time the two of you meet on the ice, you are forced to skate around holding hands to get a feel for the other’s touch, and you are stiff and cold the entire time.

Jungkook’s touch is too foreign for your taste. He is too foreign for your taste. He doesn’t feel like Taehyung, lacks his over-moisturized hands and the warmth that radiates from his body. He holds your hand with tension in his body, unnatural and distant. He doesn’t hold it like he’s supposed to, like how boys are supposed to hold girls’ hands, like how ice dancers are supposed to melt into each other’s touch. He holds it because he has to.

It doesn’t take a genius to note that the two of you are talented in your sport. You can both skate flawlessly, gliding around on the ice without clashing blades. It’s not difficult for the two of you to skate in time, in rhythm, but that means nothing if you cannot skate together.

And that is what Namjoon is thinking as he voices his concerns to Hoseok right next to him, as the two of them watch you and Jungkook skate gracefully yet emotionlessly around the rink.

“Should we be worried about them, Hoseok?” Namjoon asks, eyebrows knitted together as he watches the both of you. You’re talking, but it’s strikingly obvious that you’re not enjoying the conversation in front of you. In fact, you both look quite disgruntled in the presence of the other. This does not bode well.

Hoseok heaves, not taking his eyes of the two of you. He looks down at the way the two of you are holding hands, how unrealistic it seems, how contrived it appears, and he sighs. “We might need to be, Joon. There’s no chemistry whatsoever. In fact, it doesn’t look like they like each other very much at all.”

“Shit,” Namjoon says, a hand coming up to rub at his temple. He’s worked tirelessly with you and Jungkook for years to get you into your top spots, and he refuses to see you crumble now just because of an accident. “What are we going to do, Hoseok? We can’t have ice dancing partners that hate each other.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Hoseok says, and Namjoon can practically see the light bulb illuminating above his fading red hair. “We can use that raw emotion.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to re-choreograph their entire routine,” Namjoon says, eyes pleading.

Hoseok grins, standing a little taller with his hands happily planted on his hips. “I am. But only a little. I need a new song…”

Namjoon watches as Hoseok begins to wander off, pointer finger tapping his chin as he contemplates how he’s going to edit the routine to make it fit the meshing personalities of you and Jungkook. He will admit, the fact that Hoseok has decided to change the program with so little time left before Nationals has him nearly on the floor, but when he looks up and sees you bickering away with Jungkook as you skate laps together, hands glued shut, he supposes it might not be such a bad idea after all.

“Oh my God, I can’t do this.” You sigh in anger, skating away from Jungkook so as to cool down. You reach your hands up to rub at your temples, eyes shut tight as you let your frustration subside. “God, do you even know how to ice dance?”

“Do you?” Jungkook counters, clearly just as exasperated as you.

The very fact that Jungkook is even insinuating that after nearly fourteen years of skating and ten years of ice dancing you still lack the necessary skills to, you know, ice dance, makes you want to remove your skate from your foot and chuck it at his head. You roll your eyes, throwing your hands up to the sky in anguish as you glide up to Namjoon, who looks like he’s having a mid-life crisis.

“Coach, I can’t work with him!” You exclaim. “I can’t! There’s no connection. It’s like working with a robot on ice skates.”

There’s the sound of ice being shredded, and when you whip your head around you see Jungkook coming to a quick halt across the way.

“She’s not much better, you know!” calls Jungkook mindlessly, earning a glare from you before you turn back to face your poor overworked, underpaid coach.

“Do you see what I have to work with?” You ask, motioning to Jungkook as he launches off into some quads and twists, only further proving your point that he is a self-absorbed, entitled dickhead who, if he’s so good at single skating, should just go back to the category he wins in rather than wasting his time with you.

“Calm down, Y/N. Don’t get so worked up about this,” Namjoon says patiently.

“It’s been two weeks since Hoseok showed us the ‘new and improved’ choreography—” You begin, making hand quotes around the words to show your budding distaste for change, “—and we can’t get a single one of the lifts down.”

“At least the two of you can do the twizzles,” Namjoon supplies unhelpfully, always like him to search for the silver lining in this trainwreck of a performance.

“Woohoo,” you deadpan.

“Listen, Y/N, I trust the both of you. I know that the two of you can do great things together. There’s a reason that I selected him to be your ice dancing partner. You’re capable of greatness,” Namjoon insists, only making you roll your eyes further.

“Am I being punished for Taehyung’s clumsiness, Coach? Is that it?” You groan, your head tilting back in vexation. You know Namjoon means well, he really does, but you fail to see where on Earth he thought pairing the two of you up for a national competition would be a good idea.

“You’re not being punished,” Namjoon tells you.

“If you want to win gold for Nationals, don’t you think that maybe you should spend more time practicing and less time shit-talking your partner?” Jungkook’s voice rings out in the echoey ice rink, and it makes you sigh. Turning around, you see him casually executing a catch-foot camel spin, and it makes you want to knock him right off his center of balance and watch him crash into the ice.

“He’s right, Y/N,” Namjoon says as you begrudgingly skate back over to Jungkook, willing yourself to just through the next few hours by his side before you can go home and take a much-needed bubble bath.

Hoseok joins you not much later, happily skating on the ice as he begins to coach you through the choreography. It’s much more technical than you’re used to, aimed at getting you the highest score possible, but it’s also filled with an overwhelming amount of raw emotion, something you tend to shy away from when dealing with programs. Hoseok’s always been known to step out of the box, though, so this really should come as no surprise.

With the feeling of Jungkook’s frozen hands on your waist, Hoseok guides the both of you around the rink.

“Five, six, seven, eight, one, two, up—!”

“Ow! Not there, you dumbass!” You cry when Jungkook pinches you a little too hard, causing you to stumble and fall on your knees. “Jesus H. Christ,” you say, frowning as you get up and dust yourself off.

“You okay, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, reaching out a hand as you skate to warm yourself up again.

“’M fine,” you say, albeit a little bitter.

“Alright, again, same spot,” Hoseok orders as you line up with him again.

Jungkook grips your waist too tightly at this part, the tension causing you to stumble on your next turn, but at least you can move onto the next major part of your routine without any more flubs or cries of indignation.

Almost the entire program does Jungkook touch you in some sort of way, whether it be a hand on your waist, hip, shoulder, fingers interlocked with yours, or holding onto you for a lift. You know that you’ll get used to it eventually, the feeling of his body heat radiating onto yours, but after five years of constant contact with Taehyung, it’s difficult to change course.

Still, he does not purposely attempt to make your routine any more unbearable or difficult out of spite. He can do that with his words, not his actions. At least he’s making a solid effort to get this routine down.

“Seven, eight, lift!” Hoseok says when the two of you are skating with such momentum as you approach the halfway-mark of your free-skate program.

Jungkook pulls you up, just as you had practiced before, and your skate finds purchase in the thick material of his clothing. You are both experienced enough in this skill to not cut right through his clothing (and perhaps his skin as well), a careful hand on your thigh as he holds you up, and you think you might actually be able to stick this landing…

Until, on the way down, his elbow accidentally knocks into your shin, and the two of you collapse in a puddle on the ice.

“Fuck!” He mutters to himself, swearing as he pulls at his limbs that are entangled in yours.

You sit up as well, rubbing your sore arms as you feel the bruises blossoming on your legs.

“Whoa, you guys alright?” Hoseok asks, brows furrowed in concern as he holds a hand out to lift you up. You gladly take it, pulling yourself back onto your feet as you begin to dust off the patches of ice that have gathered on your leggings. “That was some fall. And it wasn’t even the worst lift.”

“I’m fine,” you say bitingly, “we could probably get it, if it weren’t for Jungkook not knowing where to put his hands.”

“Oh yes, pile all of the blame on me, the nationally-ranked figure skater who made a simple mistake that he can fix in an instant,” Jungkook retorts bitterly, adjusting the sleeves of his fleece jacket as he skates off to cool down.

“Uh, if you guys are alright, wanna run that again?”

“I don’t know about his bruised ego, but I’m cool to do it again,” you comment, loud enough so that he hears you even from his position across the rink.

“Do you just have a thing for insulting me?” Jungkook asks. “Because that’s no way to treat the person who’s going to lead you to gold at Nationals,” he tells you pointedly, hands on his hips as the two of you prepare to rehearse the stunt all over again.

“Please,” you scoff, “I’m the reason you’re even going to Nationals for ice dancing.”

“Oh, yeah, your partner breaking his leg is a real achievement to boast about,” Jungkook retorts.

“Don’t fucking talk about Taehyung,” you spit.

“Okay, you guys, cut the chit-chat,” Hoseok says, probably more for his own sake than yours or Jungkook’s. “We’re doing this one more time, from the camel, and then practice is over for the day,” he says warily, skating over to the panel that controls the music and turning it on.

Everything goes much better the second time, the lift being not nearly as tragic as Jungkook carefully places you back down on the ice and you skate into your next trick. You actually don’t think it’s half bad, that is, until you hear the music abruptly stop and Hoseok skate up to you with a disappointed look on his face.

“Wasn’t that good, Hoseok?” You ask, maneuvering your way to the exit of the rink and grabbing your skate guards.

“It was okay,” Hoseok says, sharing a knowing look with Namjoon, who’s been observing the both of you this entire time.

“Just okay?” You ask, confused. “We landed the lift.”

“Just go get changed, Y/N and Jungkook,” Namjoon says, motioning for the two of you to head to the locker rooms. “We’ll talk to you guys about how you can improve your routines afterwards.”

You sigh, grabbing your coat from the bench as you make your way towards the locker rooms.

“This is all your fault, you know,” you say petulantly, eyeing Jungkook as you give his shoulder a rough shove.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one spewing out blame for a one mistake,” Jungkook challenges. “One!”

You sigh, deciding that continuing to bicker with Jungkook won’t change the outcome of the conversation you’re about to have with Namjoon and Hoseok anyway, and you head into the locker rooms to get out of your skates and calm yourself down. You can deal with Jungkook later. That is, if you have enough brainpower left to do so.

Namjoon and Hoseok have their Serious Faces on as you emerge from the locker rooms, Jungkook coming out of his at the same time, duffel bag slung over his bare shoulder. You wonder how Jungkook can be walking around in a muscle tee with his biceps on display for the world to ogle at (but not you, ugh!) in the middle of winter, but then again, he is the Ice Prince after all.

“What did you want to talk to us about, Coach?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head in interest as the two of you approach them.

“We were just discussing the trust factor in your program,” Hoseok says.

“What ‘trust factor’?” You say, wary of whatever criticism is to come.

“Y/N, do you trust Jungkook?” Namjoon says, getting straight to the point.

“No.” The answer is as easy as if someone were to ask if you supported cannibalism, or pineapple on pizza.

“Jungkook, do you trust Y/N?”

“Well, since trust is a two-way street, no,” Jungkook says. It’s the first time you think you’ve ever agreed on something.

Hoseok and Namjoon share a knowing look, one you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. Jungkook turns to face you and you shrug, happy to see that there are no hard feelings as related to the fact that neither of you trust each other despite literally being ice dancing partners. You don’t know what Namjoon and Hoseok were expecting when they asked you that question, especially given how openly you’ve voiced your opinions on Jungkook before. Were they hoping for a “yes”?

“That’s exactly the problem,” Hoseok says. “You guys don’t trust each other. What’s an ice dancing routine without trust? You have to rely on each other the entire time.”

“Well, we were able to do some of the routine today,” you point out, electing to ignore the part where the two of you just completely fell on top of each other. “Why would trust be necessary?”

“Your routine is… hmm, how do I say this nicely?” Hoseok begins.

“Emotionless,” Namjoon cuts in. “It’s emotionless. You might as well be animatronics,” he continues. “Trust builds not only the routine but it builds the emotion within it. You guys are very talented skaters but there is no way in hell that you will even get onto the podium without trust, passion, or emotion. The lack of chemistry is what will bring you down, and I know neither of you want to walk away from Nationals without even bronze.”

“How are we supposed to fix that?” You ask, hesitant. You dislike the path that this conversation is leading you on. “You can’t shove five years of experience and progressively-built trust into six weeks.”

“Exactly,” Hoseok says.

“Which is why we’re staging a Trust Intervention for the both of you. You hardly know each other as people, only as skaters, and we need to fix that,” Namjoon declares, blatantly proud of the plan he’s formulated. His confidence has your eyes wide in worry, and when you turn to Jungkook, it’s clear he’s not looking forward to whatever the two of your coaches have in store for you either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“You guys are going to get to know each other by going out on dates.”

Your jaw drops. Dates?

“And I don’t care how awkward it’s going to be, because you guys are going to do it anyway. You are going to go out on dates to coffee shops and restaurants and other places where you can actively talk with each other, and you are going to learn about each other,” Namjoon orders, and you know you don’t have a choice. Even if you faked it, Namjoon has the eye of a hawk and he’d easily be able to spot the lack of connection the next time you had practice together.

“You’re kidding,” Jungkook says, blinking profusely. He looks like he’s in shock. You can’t imagine you look much different.

Hoseok looks as equally pleased with the proposal as Namjoon. “You guys have more in common than you both might think, you know,” he says. “Before practice in two days, I want to see you out on one date. You could even drop by the coffee shop down the road before practice. I don’t care. But I need to see that you’ve been on one.”

“Wait, wait, Coach,” you say before Namjoon turns to change his focus towards his Little Skaters group that’s slowly filing in for their own practice. “A date? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Jungkook adds.

“They don’t necessarily have to have some sort of romantic connotation, calm down,” Namjoon says. “They’re just outings together. You don’t have to hold hands or kiss or hug, or whatever. Just talk. That’s all I ask of you. You guys are dismissed.”

Before you can get in any more questions, Namjoon and Hoseok are turning away from you, greeting the Little Skaters with their voices light and bright and the total opposite of how they were just speaking to you.

You turn to Jungkook in partial shock and partial disgust, already repelled by the mere thought of having to spend more time with him. You couldn’t think of a worse way to spend your time than this.

“Coffee shop, two hours before practice?” Jungkook asks, expressionless.

You shrug. “Fine. See you there, Jeon,” you spit, marching out of practice with a frown on your face.

You don’t know what Namjoon or Hoseok’s game is, but what you do know, is that if they’re expecting for the two of you to form some sort of bond through these forced dates, then they couldn’t be more wrong.

What kind of bond could be forged between you and Jeon Jungkook? Not even in your nightmares could you imagine putting your trust in his hands.

Two days later, you catch Jungkook in the coffeeshop as he’s waiting at the end of the line to order, staring up the menu above his head and tapping his foot to the beat of the soft pop that plays through the speakers that decorate each corner of the room.

“Ordering without me?” You ask, joining him, with an eyebrow raised. “So gentleman-y.”

“You were taking too long,” Jungkook responds curtly. “I don’t drink coffee anyway, so I wanted to see what this place has.”

“You don’t drink coffee…” you begin, “and we’re in a coffee shop?”

“They have things other than coffee.” Jungkook frowns.

“Alright, whatever you say,” you say distantly, rolling your eyes as the woman in front of you moves to the side to wait for her drink. “Hi, can I get a medium latte, whole milk? And light foam, please.”

The barista nods tapping away at the computer in front of her before motioning to Jungkook.

“Small hot chocolate,” Jungkook says quickly, grabbing his wallet from the back of his pocket.

“I can pay for mine,” you insist, fumbling with the loose bills shoved into your jeans, but Jungkook shakes his head, handing over his card without even giving you so much as a glance. You stand there, at a loss for words as Jungkook casually pays for your obnoxious drink without a second thought.

“This is stupid,” you say mindlessly as you wait for your drinks at the pick-up station. “I don’t know how Coach thinks anything is going to improve if we spend more time together.”

“If Coach really wanted us to loosen up around each other, he should have given us a bottle of vodka and ten minutes,” Jungkook jokes, making you laugh.

“Please,” you scoff, “I bet you have the alcohol tolerance level of a baby goose.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

You roll your eyes, already finding yourselves falling into the distinct rhythm of bicker, bicker, bicker. This is precisely why you knew that whatever plan Namjoon had brewing in his brain wouldn’t work, because if you can’t get past petty insults and snarky comments, how are you supposed to connect with each other?

When you’ve got your drinks, you take refuge in a table by the window of the shop, giving you a glorious view of the angry pedestrians and angrier cars, hooting their way around town. What a sight.

Jungkook sips his drink slowly, savoring each sip. When he’s not drinking, he’s leaning back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the wooden table between you and avoiding your gaze, red scarf wrapped up neatly around his neck and complimenting the red buttons on his peacoat with ease. Without him opening his mouth and ruining the entire vibe of the scenery, he actually looks quite nice. But don’t tell him that.

Meanwhile, you are ungracefully downing your entire medium latte without another shot, craving each gram of caffeine that enters your body. Maybe it is two o’clock in the afternoon, but you are regularly awake until midnight and you also will need all of the energy you can get if you have to deal with a skating Jungkook for the next five hours.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Excuse me?” You ask, coughing slightly as your coffee goes down the wrong pipe in surprise.

“What’s your favorite color?” Jungkook repeats, dead serious. “Coach said we have to get to know each other. Answer the question.”

You’ve never heard someone sound so stern when asking what your favorite color is.

“Yellow. Yours?” You ask, wiping the foam away from the corner of your lips with your sleeve.

“Red.”

“I probably could have figured that out,” you comment mindlessly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jungkook asks, quirking an eyebrow in offense as he looks at you.

“Look at you, Jeon. You’re covered in red from head to toe. It doesn’t take a genius to guess,” you say, motioning from his scarf down his torso. Even his cheeks are read, burning from the mixture of the heat from the coffee shop and the winter from outside.

“Well,” Jungkook begins, shuffling himself around with his hot chocolate cup held tightly in his hand. “I look good in it.”

“Is that your reasoning?” You ask, appalled.

“Do you deny it?” Jungkook retorts, smirk on his face as he watches your expression change from shocked to accosted. You’d never admit to Jungkook that he actually looks good, sitting in front of you with the bright red wrapped around him complimenting his skin tone, the shade of his eyes. You’d rather keel over and die in this very coffee shop.

“I—” You say, speechless.

“So you don’t?”

“Why do you care what I think about you? I thought you were just in this for the medal,” you counter, reminding Jungkook of his own words with a pointed expression.

“I never said I cared about if you think I’m hot, though it is nice to know that you do,” Jungkook responds.

“I never said that,” you say.

“You didn’t need to,” Jungkook says with a shrug, taking an extended sip of his hot chocolate while you sit there, racking your brain for an equally good, if not better, riposte to his obnoxiously self-centered comments. How have they left your mind empty? You had always thought it impossible for a man to leave you speechless, but clearly, you just hadn’t spoken to Jeon Jungkook yet. “What, no response?” He asks, teasing lilt decorating his words.

“Sorry, too busy thinking of all of the ways I can skin you alive after Nationals,” you say, fist up at at the ready. You reach over to punch him in the shoulder, but Jungkook’s reflexes are much too quick for your liking and he grabs a hold of your wrist before your hand can collide with his coat.

“Don’t get too excited, Y/N,” Jungkook warns, keeping his grip on you tight. “Maybe we’ll do so well at Nationals that you won’t want to kill me anymore. You might even want to keep being my partner, how about that?”

You scoff. “In your dreams, Jeon. You and I both know we wouldn’t be able to stand each other for more than a season at a time, if that.”

“Who knows,” Jungkook says, leaning across the table. The sheer proximity intimidates you, how his face is hovering hardly a finger’s length away from yours. This close, you can make out the golden specks decorating his irises, and the lines on his lips—

Shut up! What are you doing thinking about Jeon Jungkook’s lips?

“Things can change,” Jungkook hums, grinning smugly before getting up from his seat and taking his empty cup with him.

You’re left there, sitting in the dust as the conversation settles around you, unable to process even a single thing that just happened. Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook’s eyes. Jeon Jungkook’s lips.

Jeon Jungkook’s ego that is roughly the size of Madagascar.

You sigh, exhaling heavily as you gather your belongings and make to leave as well, tossing your empty cup in the bin on the way out.

Things can change, but how much are you willing to let them?

“There’s the happy couple!”

Your tired eyes light up at the sound of a familiar voice, and you turn to see Taehyung happily crutch-ing his way over to you. By now, he’s mastered the art of not falling while requiring the use of crutches, so you don’t have to baby him anymore.

“Tae!” You exclaim, happy to see the one person who is most definitely keeping you grounded during this time of torture.

“How’s it going?” He asks happily, not having been at the rink since the day you found out you’d have to be partnered up with Jeon Jungkook.

You turn to Jungkook, who’s already begun walking off in the direction of the locker with little demonstrated interest in the conversation you are about to have with Taehyung, for whatever reason. Taehyung shrugs at the two of you watch Jungkook trudge off, neither happy nor sad.

“What’s his deal?” Taehyung asks, pointing his crutch in Jungkook’s direction.

“He constantly has a gigantic stick up his ass,” you remark, making Taehyung giggle. “No, I don’t know. I guess he just wants to get to practice.”

“Wow, so dedicated,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“How much do you hate Jeon Jungkook?” Taehyung rephrases his question.

“Very much,” you inform him. “Actually, only a lot much, now. It’s getting better,” you tell him regretfully, knowing how much he’s going to rub in your face the fact that he was the one who told you that it wouldn’t actually be that bad.

“See, I told you!” Taehyung exclaims, a “you should have believed me when I said so!” expression on his face. “I knew it wouldn’t actually be that bad. You’re just so fucking overdramatic, always have been,” Taehyung reminds you.

“Want me to give you another broken leg, Taehyung?” You threaten weakly, fist balled up with a teasing smile on your face. Taehyung pretends to wince before laughing alongside you. “God, I can’t wait for you to be able to get on the ice again.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung admits wistfully, watching as some of the other skaters practice gracefully on the rink, less advanced but just as devoted as you, Jungkook, or Taehyung. “I’m getting that itch under my skin. Or maybe it’s just because I can’t scratch this one part of my leg because of this motherfucking cast, and it makes me want to die.”

You chuckle at his comment. Taehyung always has a way of taking devastating situations and laughing about them, making them seem like they’re not really real.

“Have you at least gotten to talk to that guy again?” You ask him, interlocking your fingers with his. It doesn’t feel like Jungkook, with whom you’ve been holding hands with (for totally professional purposes) for the past two-and-a-half weeks. It feels warmer, softer. Like you could die in these hands and he would promise that everything would be alright.

“Oh my God, yes!” Taehyung exclaims happily. “Jimin brought me flowers when I got out of the hospital. And they weren’t death-symbolizing white roses. I think I want to marry him, Y/N. You don’t understand.”

“Way to rub in the fact that I don’t have a love life,” you say, grimacing. “But I’m happy for you! You deserve all of the love and appreciation in the world.”

“Y/N,” Namjoon’s soothing voice interrupts your conversation as he places the cool wood of his clipboard on your back. “Go get changed. Hoseok wants to run through the second half of the program with you and Jungkook today.”

“Alright, Coach,” you say mindlessly, waving Namjoon off as you bid goodbye to Taehyung. “You’re gonna watch us practice, right?”

“Totally! Knock ’em dead, tiger,” Taehyung says, already making his way towards the up-ramp onto the bleachers that give him a view of the entire rink. Hoseok’s beginning to clear out the leftmost rink for you and Jungkook to practice, and you wave to Taehyung as you jog towards the locker room, already wary of what Jungkook’s going to say when you are inevitably late to practice on the ice.

The second half of the program for the free-skate is much more comprehensive than the first. Sure, the first part has the first set of twizzles and the layback curve lift (that Jungkook dropped you during the first time you had rehearsed the stunt), but the second features an overwhelming amount of stationary twirls and two more lifts, both of which are significantly more difficult than the curve.

It’s a good thing Jungkook’s as dedicated as you. If, at gunpoint, you were forced to pick one quality you admire about Jungkook, it’s how devoted he is to the sport, and how he’s willing to do anything to secure the top spot. At least you have one thing in common.

“Five, six, seven, eight, camel!” Hoseok shouts as he skates away from the two of you as you begin the camel spin. Jungkook wraps his heavy hands around you, one on your waist and another on your outstretched leg, and you do the same with him, palm glossing over his stomach as you hold on tight. You’re careful not to press to firmly, mostly out of fear for yourself, because you know fully well that he’s got a decent pack of abs under that fleece jacket he’s wearing. You twirl together, your two bodies slowly becoming one, but it’s such a short period of time that you split almost as quickly as you come together before launching off into the next trick.

Jungkook keeps his hands on your waist for almost the entire second part, wrapped around your waist as you skate around the rink, making all sort of elegant gestures with your hands to the beat of the music.

“Dip!” Hoseok’s voice rings out in the rink as Jungkook, with your hands tightly interlocked, dips you down down to the ice, pulling you in a semicircle before lifting you back up with ease. You spin around to face him, gliding across the ice, attempting to be civil and smile his way, but he offers nothing in return. Asshole.

The first lift comes easily, a combination with you going from Biellmann position on his thigh to a reverse-rotational. You’ve been practicing this for a few days now, not enough for it to be flawless but enough for it to get the job done and for Hoseok to fine tune over the next few weeks as the competition approaches. Jungkook keeps a tight grip on you throughout the entire thing, pressing you tightly to his body as he spins with you in the splits position before gracefully dropping you to the ice. Hoseok claps happily once you’ve landed it, watching with glee as you skate into the next series of twizzles.

It appears that everything’s going swimmingly, and when you are midway through the second half of the routine, the thought flashes across your mind that you might actually be able to work with him on this routine, rather than against him like you have been for so long. It’s a foreign feeling, that thought, and a fleeting one at that.

The final lift before the finale approaches, and you feel Jungkook press his palm firmly on your waist before hoisting you up as you wrap your arm around his neck to hold yourself up. Jungkook spins with ease, watching your body carefully as you dance around him, going from the splits to a horizontal position, the only thing keeping you glued to him his hand around your waist. It’s almost perfect, but when he sets you down you both stumble, skates colliding as you trip over each other and fall to a heap on the rink.

Hoseok cuts the music, skating over to see what went wrong.

“You guys alright?” He asks, concerned look on his face.

Sighing, you stand up shakily, holding onto Hoseok’s arm for support. “Fine.”

“Jungkook?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says, voice as cold as always.

“What happened there, guys?” Hoseok asks.

“We were just positioned incorrectly, ‘s all,” Jungkook spits quickly, skating around in a quick figure-eight before re-positioning himself so that you can work on the lift again. You dust yourself off and join him, hoping that maybe this time you can get it so you can move onto tweaks.

You don’t.

For the next four times that you attempt the final lift, you end up collapsing in a puddle together, your skates colliding, or Jungkook’s grip on you slipping, or your limbs being connected for a moment too long, something that happens not during the lift but on your way down that causes the fall. You and Jungkook are getting equally infuriated with yourselves and with each other, much to Hoseok’s chagrin.

“Your foot is always too close to mine when you put me down,” you accuse, after Hoseok’s dismissed the both of you from practice. “Move it into more of a 180 position so I have room to move.”

“You aren’t landing in the right spot,” Jungkook counters bitterly. “You need to constantly be aware of my position on the ice so that way you don’t crash into me.”

“Your hand is slipping as you put me down, it throws me off.”

“You’re putting way too much faith in me to do everything correctly, when you aren’t even in the correct form during the last part of the lift.”

You both exhale, exasperated from arguing and from practicing and from the bruises blossoming all over your lower body. Bickering will get you absolutely nowhere but it’s all you have.

Before the two of you leave, Namjoon stops the both of you.

“Dinner together before the end of next week. A decent restaurant too, not a McDonald’s. You guys need to build trust, and you won’t be able to do that by arguing,” he orders, much to Taehyung’s confusion as he exits alongside of you, rambling on about Jimin and his flowers.

You and Jungkook meet eyes for a brief second before turning back to Namjoon and nodding.

Winning gold isn’t all sunshine and daisies. Sometimes, it’s bruises and self-torture as well.

Jungkook meets you for dinner at a mildly posh restaurant in the center of town, where the food isn’t necessarily dirt cheap, but it’s also not outrageously overpriced. It’s a quaint place, The Yellow Dandelion, that serves exclusively appetizers that are meant to be shared rather than eaten separately. The aura is soft, like the ending to a fairytale, decorated with Christmas lights and candles lining the shelves on the walls.

Jungkook’s already sitting there when you arrive, face windblown from the biting winter breeze. It’s a thin restaurant, booths extending all the wall along the wall on the right and a little bar to your left, the kitchen hiding in the back. You spot him instantly, see him waiting patiently for you, and ignore the hostess entirely as you rush over to him.

“You look cold,” Jungkook deadpans when he sees you. He’s dressed in a pale blue button-down, tucked into some khakis with his bangs brushed neatly to cover his forehead, dancing along his eyelashes. He looks so much different than when you saw him in the coffeeshop, bundled up in a scarf and jacket with his hair brushed up, or in practice, sweaty and cozy and angry.

“You look warm,” you comment in return, noting the pink decorating his cheeks. Or maybe that’s just the hazy light of the restaurant.

“I already ordered us Cokes, if that’s alright with you,” Jungkook says as you sit down across from him, thankful for the table in between the two of you that allows the both of you to keep your distance. Though, knowing Jungkook, you don’t doubt him possibly leaning over the table to make some snarky and mildly sexual remark to you. You nod, taking a look at the menu. It’s a single list of a bunch of fancy, hipster foods that sound both appealing and revolting at the same time.

“What are you going to order?” You ask him mindlessly, eyeing the bowl of pasta with olives and grapefruit. Namjoon always did say you needed to eat more “healthy” carbs, whatever the fuck that means.

“The spinach and artichoke dip, and the garlic bread. I can’t go to a restaurant and not get garlic bread. It’s sacreligious,” Jungkook says, making you laugh slightly. “What about you?”

“I don’t know, will you let me steal some of your garlic bread?” You ask cheekily, not minding the thought of garlic bread very much at all.

“You’re going to steal some regardless of if I say yes or no, so, no, I don’t mind. Have whatever,” he offers.

“I’m not going to let you fucking pay for me this time, you asshole,” you warn him holding up your wallet as a reminder. “This place isn’t cheap.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Let me pay for what I eat, Jeon. I’m not taking no for an answer,” you declare, leaning back firmly in your seat.

“You’re so stubborn,” Jungkook comments to himself, sighing.

“Do you not like stubborn girls? Oh, what a shame! What will I do if the great Jeon Jungkook doesn’t like stubborn girls? Will I have to change my entire personality just so he’ll like me a bit more?” You plead dramatically, looking up to the sky with your hands clasped together. Jungkook frowns in response to your melodrama, an eyebrow quirked in disapproval. You smile pettily at him.

The waitress comes with your Cokes, and you’re happy to have something to occupy your mouth so you don’t launch off into another series of personal attacks on Jeon Jungkook. She takes your orders before disappearing off into the kitchen, leaving you and Jungkook alone with your thoughts once again.

“What’s your favorite time of day?” Jungkook asks, yet another stiff icebreaker (pun intended).

“Like, morning, afternoon, night? That kind of stuff?” You ask. Jungkook nods. “Midnight. Early morning. When the whole world is quiet and you can finally breathe. You?”

“The sunrise,” Jungkook responds, his answer catching you by surprise. He had always seemed like an afternoon kind of guy, when the sun is high and beams down on him with all its might, when its rays filter in through the windows at the top of the rink and illuminates the path on which he skates. Not the sunrise, the calm before the storm as the sky turns orange, purple, and pink.

“Really?” You ask, intrigued. “What for?”

“The only people who are awake to see it are the people who see as much beauty in it as I do,” Jungkook says softly. “I know you think I’m some cold, self-absorbed asshole who only cares about his medals, but I actually have a heart, you know.”

“Huh,” you say. “Who’d have thought.”

Once the food arrives, you and Jungkook spend the rest of the evening offering up the food on your plates to the other until there’s nothing left but crumbs and butter lining them. It’s a little infuriating, really, constantly being offered the other’s food, but when your stomachs are full and there is no room left for dessert, you find yourself pleased with the variety of dishes you’ve had. The bill has already been paid, and perhaps the two of you could just up and leave without another thought to this not-a-date date, but then—

“Why did you start skating, Jungkook?” You ask, playing with your fork as it taps the plate arrythmically. Jungkook’s been staring down at his food or his lap the entire night, but he finally looks up when you mention his name.

“I was four,” Jungkook begins. “And I was at the rink because my older brother had been invited to a birthday party there, and I had to come with. And I had wandered off while my mother was dealing with my older brother, gone to the senior level rinks. And I saw Kim Seokjin.”

“Kim Seokjin? Seriously?” You ask in shock. Kim Seokjin is only a legend to you and everyone else who attends your skating rink, a man who skates with so much elegance yet so much pizzazz, his talent alone earning him a silver medal at the Olympics.

“Seriously. He was practicing there, and it took my breath away. I had craned my neck and was standing on my tiptoes just to catch a glimpse of him as he leaped across the ice like a fucking swan, and I realized that I wanted to do that too. When he finished, he saw me watching him, and he gave me the brightest wave my four-year-old eyes had ever seen. I’ll never forget,” Jungkook says, shaking his head at the nostalgic memory. “I wanted to be just like him.”

The answer seems so unlike the Jungkook you know now (or at least, the Jungkook you think you know). You had always heard, always assumed that Jungkook began figure skating because someone had dared him to when he was little, and he had taken up the challenge with all of his might. You had always assumed that he skated not just because he enjoyed it, but because he was good at it, and because he knew he would always win.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks. “Why did you start skating?”

“When I was in kindergarten, all of my friends were good at something, be it sports, or school, whatever. They were all good at this one thing and I was just, kinda average. Not great and not terrible, either. But I was five, and I wanted something to be good at, something to be proud of,” you begin to explain. “And so my mom, the lovely person she is, signed me up for all of these different things to see if any of them stuck.”

“And then you found the rink,” Jungkook finishes, a knowing grin on his face.

You nod, repeating his words. “And then I found the rink.”

“Isn’t it weird?” Jungkook asks, twirling his fork between his fingers. You hum to show him that you’re paying attention, despite keeping your eyes trained on your twiddling thumbs. “How even though we hate each other, we have so much in common?”

“Like what?” You ask, not because you’re doubtful, or you’re unsure. You ask because you already know, already know that in more ways than one Jungkook is more than meets the eye, so much more than a first impression, but you refuse to let yourself believe it.

“Like how we both started out because we wanted to be something bigger than ourselves,” Jungkook says. “We don’t like the day. You like late nights, and I like the early mornings, because all we want is a little peace and quiet, a time of reflection and thought.”

His words make you wince, not because they are wrong, but because they are true. Because for as long as it has been, you and Jungkook have always been quite similar. You just wouldn’t allow yourself to admit it.

Jungkook continues. “We like bold colors. They’re statement colors, show off the parts of our personality we wouldn’t otherwise broadcast. We are passionate. And devoted. And determined to succeed.” He’s beginning to stand up, gather his belongings as his words make you shiver.

Jeon Jungkook had always been a beautiful horror story to you. Talented in every way one can be talented at skating, but rude. Aloof. Uptight. Not a heartbreaker, because he didn’t date, but a heartbreaker nonetheless, because he didn’t date. You had never imagined getting so close to him, let alone him becoming your ice dancing partner. They were two separate things, Jeon Jungkook and ice dancing, but now, they are one.

The thought straight terrifies you.

You mimic his actions, picking up your coat and your wallet and standing up across from him as you get ready to leave. Jungkook looks just as soft and hazy as he did at the beginning, fairy lights and candles illuminating his features. He smiles awkwardly at you, and you send him an equally tense grin in return.

He walks you to the door, and you leave the restaurant together only to be greeted with the brisk winter breeze, Jack Frost nipping at your nose and turning his ears a cherry red. It’s clear that he’s going one way and you’re going another, and so he smiles at you.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe a couple hours to get to know each other was really all you needed.

You suddenly feel a lot safer, thinking about tomorrow’s practice, where you and Jungkook will spend the entire time working on the lift. You still have yet to land it perfectly, but you are getting closer. He’s only dropped you about a dozen times at this point. But now—though perhaps it’s just the food talking, the winter weather making your brain go hazy—you think you might actually be able to do it. You might actually begin to feel safe in his arms.

That night, Jeon Jungkook stays up for as long as he possibly can, staring lazily out of his bedroom window to the stars above, catching a glimpse of the moon between the branches of the trees. It is the very early morning when he falls asleep on his windowsill, dreaming of you.

That night, you set fifteen alarms to wake up before the sunrise, managing to get up five minutes ahead of time. You pull on your warmest jacket and rush outside in nothing but slippers, and watch the sky turn from a deep navy to a lilac, to cotton candy pink, to tangerine as the sun slowly creeps over the horizon, thinking of him.

Despite the strangely enjoyable dinner you shared, you and Jungkook cannot land the final lift. It takes all of your willpower to try, yet it is still not enough, and you collapse on the ice in a heap for what is probably the fifteenth time so far, spent only on this one stunt. Hoseok skates over each time and he has no idea what you are doing wrong, no idea how to the fix the mistakes he cannot figure out you’re making.

At least you’ve stopped blaming each other, though you can’t help the side-eyes you send his way each time you pull yourselves up from the ice to try again.

“That’s it!” Namjoon calls from where he stands outside the rink, “I’m staging another Trust Intervention.” He walks up, as close as he can get to the rink without actually stepping foot on it, and motions for you, Jungkook, and Hoseok to skate over to him. When you’re in front of him, he exhales. “We’re gonna do a trust exercise, and it’s going to be a lot of fun and you guys are going to learn how to depend wholeheartedly on the other person.”

“Are we doing trust falls on the ice?” Jungkook asks excitedly, much to your horror. A trust fall on ice skates sounds like nothing short of disaster.

“Not quite,” Namjoon says hesitantly. You and Jungkook share a wary look.

And that’s how you find yourself blindfolded with Jungkook’s bright red scarf and taking tentative steps onto the rink.

The whole premise of whatever fucked-up trust exercise Namjoon has spontaneously made up is that Jungkook, through voice and voice alone, has to guide you through this path that Hoseok has made on the ice, and you’re not allowed to see where you’re going. You’re just supposed to hope for the best and pray that Jungkook does his job the way he’s supposed to you.

“This is such an awful idea, Coach,” you say, worry lacing your words as you slowly stand your ground on the ice. Jungkook is with you in the rink, but he is not allowed to touch you or guide you with any part of his body other than his words.

“I don’t care, you’re doing it anyway!” Namjoon shouts.

“Okay, skate left,” Jungkook begins, and you take a stride left. “Nope! No, not that far left. A little to the right.”

A small step right.”

“Good. Okay, skate forward for two medium-sized glides,” he instructs. With nowhere to look and nowhere to feel, you follow his words carefully, though you aren’t so sure if the term “medium-sized glide” is as universal as Jungkook thinks it it. Regardless, you do as he tells you, and you don’t hear any objections.

It goes on like this for another ten minutes as you make a movement, hear Jungkook shouting at you that you’ve gone too far, or out of bounds, or you’re about to crash into something, and then carefully follow his next direction. You even feel yourself on the verge of falling a few times, even though your hands are outstretched for balance you don’t technically need since you should know how to ice skate with your eyes closed at this point. This is by far the strangest type of trust exercise that you’ve ever had to engage in, but you will admit that it is a lot of fun.

The scarf on your face smells just like him. It’s a strange thing to think, but when you see nothing but a shadowed red and you are relying entirely on Jungkook’s instructions to complete this nonsensical challenge, your mind’s stuck on him.

(It’s been stuck on him since the dinner.)

The scent wafts through the air that surrounds your clouded mind, and you take in his aroma. He smells like the rink, more than anything else, but he also smells like fresh honey, the kind that’s way too expensive for what it’s worth since honey never goes bad anyway. And he smells like movie theater popcorn, the over-buttered kind that reeks of preservatives and calories but you’ll happily binge on anyway. You wonder if Jungkook’s the type to save his popcorn until the actual movie starts, or eat half of the tub during the commercials and advertisements at the beginning.

And when his voice is the only thing that your ears register, smooth like silk, it begins to sound like music to you. When he’s not offending you or sending you a biting remark, it sounds gentle. It sounds like a literal song, voice light and airy and filled with laughter.

Perhaps it’s just because so many of your senses have been stripped from you, that the rest of them are heightened. Perhaps this is the only reason why Jungkook’s scent is so prevalent to your nose, why his voice makes your heart dance along to the rhythm of his words.

There could be no other explanation, right?

You finish the course successfully, and then it’s Jungkook’s turn. Hoseok rearranges the path  as you skate over to Jungkook with a grin on your face, the scarf balled up in your hand. He turns around so that you can blindfold him.

“This is kinky,” Jungkook says jokingly, nearly making you keel over with laughter.

“Don’t get too excited, Jeon,” you tease him, warning tone to your voice. “The rink’s locker rooms are terrible places to jack off.”

“You think I don’t know that already?” Jungkook asks pointedly, making you glad he can’t see the wide-eyed expression written all over your face. With his hand holding tight onto yours, you guide him to the beginning of the course.

“Forward for one big glide,” you instruct, again, unsure of the universality of the phrase “one big glide.” Jungkook follows your guide, and is one bad step from falling out of bounds.

“How’s that?” He calls out.

“Good! Turn right a little bit,” you instruct, even though the path leads left. What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t kill him.

He listens to your words like a fool because he is no better than one, happily turning to face the wall. You have to try absurdly hard not to burst into laughter.

“Okay, good, good,” you say, choking down your giggles. “Straight, keep going, keep going, stop!” Jungkook comes to a halt less than a foot away from the edge of the rink, teetering on crashing into the plastic. You don’t know if you want to be kind or evil.

“Am I on the right path?” Jungkook asks?

“Yeah, yeah,” you insist, muffling your laughter. “Straight a little more—!”

Crash!

Jungkook steps back wildly, falling on his ass as the scarf dislodges itself from above his ears, falling into his lap. You’re keeling over, slapping your thigh obscenely as you cackle, the sight of a poor, innocent, blindfolded Jungkook colliding with the wall under your instruction too good to resist. Jungkook stands up in indignation, pouting.

With the scarf in his hand, he points an accusatory finger your way. “This is why we can’t get the landing, Y/N! This is why!”

You’re still giggling, unable to wipe the smirk off your face even as Jungkook comes closer and closer, menacing and peeved yet on the verge of laughter as well. Once he’s close enough, he chucks his scarf your way out of anger, and you catch it before the two of you both burst into hysterics. Even the cold-hearted, self-proclaimed Ice Prince can’t resist a good practical joke here and there.

“You got me good,” Jungkook admits, shaking his head. “I was gonna do that to you, you know. But I didn’t, because I thought it was too mean,” he says, making you muffle down your giggles once more. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“You snooze you lose, Jeon,” you say wisely.

Namjoon, with his skates on for the first time in a while, joins the two of you on the ice.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together as Hoseok cleans up the path. “Obviously, that didn’t go as planned. But that’s alright, because it’s nice to see the two of you smiling together. It’s a good kind of change,” he declares, disappointed that his trust exercise failed but happy to see that he’s gotten something out of it anyway. “You guys might actually have a shot at gold if you land that ending, you know? You could do it.”

“Let’s get to it, then?” Jungkook says, taking your hand as you skate towards the middle of the rink.

Despite all efforts to improve, you and Jungkook still can’t get the ending.

Maybe another time.

Taehyung comes and visits another one of your practices a week or so later. He’s got four weeks left until his cast comes off and he can get back onto the ice (with discretion, of course), which means three weeks until Nationals, which in turn means three weeks to get this fucking ending down.

He watches happily as the two of you rehearse over and over, each attempt closer than the last to stick the ending and finish with a bang but not close enough, and you almost always end up falling or stumbling or tripping or all three. But each time you turn to look at him, he’s got this gleeful grin on his face, not the least bit discouraged by the fact that you can’t seem to land this damn trick. At least somebody is out here supporting you, even if you don’t know if you can support yourself.

“Ugh, God,” you say, pulling yourself up after having fallen for the nth time so far over these past five weeks.

“Again?” Jungkook supplies, dusting himself off and ignoring the pain that each fall causes to the bruises decorating his legs and arms.

“Again,” you say, nodding tiredly as you join up with him again.

“Wait, wait, before you guys start,” Namjoon’s voice interrupts the two of you as he skates over, handy dandy clipboard under his arm. “Do you guys still want to do this move?”

“What?” You ask, a single eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, can you guys still stick with it?” Namjoon asks, genuinely concerned. “Because it’s been five weeks and you haven’t landed it once. I don’t know, I was thinking maybe you guys could come up with an easier lift, one you’ll have less trouble landing. We can’t risk a mistake at Championships.”

“We can do it,” you immediately say, refusing to accept the loser’s way out. This move is your golden ticket to first place. Even if you can’t get it now, you know you’ll be able to later. You swear you will. “I know we can.”

“But you haven’t done it once yet,” Namjoon points out, as if you don’t already know that you’ve never stuck the landing for it. “And Nationals is in three weeks. And I don’t know how much more training you guys will be able to get in before then. If you can’t get it now, who’s to say you’ll be able to get it by then?”

“We can,” you insist. “I swear we can. We’re not going to change up the routine just because we haven’t gotten it yet.” This is your one chance at glory, and you refuse to pass it up.

“Y/N, maybe we should listen to Coach,” Jungkook says hesitantly, following you as you skate back to the ending position, where the lift begins. “If we still haven’t gotten it, maybe we should try a different move—”

“No! We can do it, Coach, I swear. Have some faith in us.” You are persistent, relentless, stubborn. You know Namjoon’s just thinking about what’s best for you and Jungkook and the routine, but you won’t change your mind now. You’ve spent so long trying to do this, and you won’t give up. Hasn’t he noticed? You’re getting closer and closer each time. “Hoseok, hit play.”

Hoseok presses the stereo and the music begins to echo throughout the rink. You and Jungkook skate into the trick, slowly gaining enough speed and momentum so that he can continue to spin while holding you. Step by step, he pulls you into his arms, allows you to stand proudly on his thigh before looping your leg around him to morph into the splits, then hang loosely next to his body as he holds you by nothing but the waist, and then—!

Thud!

Jungkook loses his grip on your waist and the two of you come toppling down once more, his hand behind your head to cushion it from the hard ice. You sigh once more, sitting up together with dejected expressions.

“We can do it,” you insist as Namjoon skates over, saving him the trouble. “I swear, we can.”

“How was practice today?” Taehyung asks, as if he didn’t watch the entire thing, specifically you falling over. And over. And over.

“Fine,” you say gruffly, adjusting your duffel bag so the padding rests on your shoulder. Jungkook had told you that he’d stay back to get in a bit of solo practice, so he’s not walking out at the same time as you.

“You’re really working that reverse-rotational,” Taehyung comments mindlessly, referencing the final lift. “You almost got it.”

“But almost isn’t good enough,” you groan, exhaling heavily. The move will get you down, rest heavily on your already dampened spirits until you can finally execute it perfectly.

“How’s Jungkook?” Taehyung asks, changing the topic.

“I still hate him…” you tell Taehyung tentatively, “but at least he works hard. I think our routine is amazing, save for the part where we mess up at the end and fall into a puddle on the floor.”

“You should do that at Nationals, as part of the routine. People will think you’re mad. It’ll be great,” Taehyung suggests, though you know he’s kidding.

You scoff. “As if.”

“But you and Jungkook, you guys are okay, right?” Taehyung asks hopefully, looking at you with innocent wide eyes.

You turn around before you can exit the skate center, catch a glimpse of Jungkook skating to the beat of the rap music playing lightly through the shitty speakers of the arena. He’s not doing much, just a couple spins here and there, but he is so easily able to move his body in perfect time, capture the essence of the song with his movements. It’s mesmerizing, watching him. You think you might be able to do it forever.

“Yeah,” you say, letting your eyes linger on his figure. “I guess we’re alright.”

Two days before Nationals is the first time that you actually do it without falling, without tripping and flubbing up the rest of your routine and missing the ending pose. Twos days before Nationals, and Namjoon and Hoseok are on the verge of a quarter-life crisis because for weeks on end they’ve watched you try to get the final lift over and over and over, to no avail. They’re almost about to cut it from the routine entirely. But stubbornness has always been one of your most unbearable qualities, and you continue to insist that you can do it.

At this point, Hoseok is just trying to fine-tune any last minute things. Nationals is in two days and if you haven’t fixed it already, there’s no way you’ll be able to fix it before the big day. Now, it’s just him skating around the two of you, telling you to lift your leg higher or don’t forget to dig your toe firmly into the ice or grab onto her waist tighter.

What Hoseok, and Namjoon, and Jungkook, and you, are really worried about? The final lift.

If you haven’t gotten it by now the chances of you getting it at Championships are slim to none, so it’s now or never.

You run the program with ease, the music flowing from the speakers to the ice, up your body and through your bloodstream. You live, sleep, and eat the beat of the song, your heart thumps in time to the rhythm. Thank God you picked a song that you’ll never find yourself getting sick of, or you probably would have pulled a double Vincent Van Gogh by now.

The skills come easily to you now, muscle memory propelling you through the routine without so much as a second thought. Jungkook’s touch is not as foreign as it once was, your hands slowly but surely beginning to feel like they belong interlocked with his, the feeling of his palms finding a constant purchase on your waist no longer unnatural, uncomfortable. He is no Taehyung but he doesn’t need to be, not when this routine wasn’t choreographed for you and Taehyung.

It was made for you and him.

Jeon Jungkook is finally starting to feel less like a replacement and more like a partner. You have spent so much time with him these past eight weeks, more time than with Taehyung (and that’s saying a lot, especially considering the fact that the two of you are best friends), and it’s beginning to feel like he’s been your partner this entire time. That this performance you are about to give in front of thousands of people, professional judges, and live cameras, is one that you’ve been planning for for years instead of weeks. That you have been with Jungkook for years instead of weeks.

You don’t know why, but the feeling that Jungkook is slowly starting to melt into the position you once thought Taehyung had secured forevermore is frightening. It’s telling, too, telling you that you’re getting used to being with Jungkook, that your body no longer finds itself immediately repulsed at his touch. It toys with the thought that maybe, one day, you’ll be working him with permanently. It threatens you with the thought that you won’t want to let him go back to single skating, where he truly outshines every single one of his competitors. That you’ll pray he’ll stay with you, instead.

You easily clear the series of twizzles, spinning around on the ice in perfect synchronization not only with the beat of the music, but with each other. The twizzles are some of the hardest skills to master, especially considering that the placement of your skates has to be perfectly balanced so as to continue propelling yourself forward, and you can do them without batting an eye.

You come together right before the big finale, Jungkook reaching out to grab a hold of your outstretched hand and pulling you close to him. He holds your interlocked hands up high and spins you around as you glide across the ice, gaining momentum for the big lift. He places a hand on your waist and meets your eyes, and his hopeful brown ones mix beautifully with your own right before you jump into the lift.

It’s the curve lift first. Jungkook tugs you up and holds you by the thigh as you stand atop his, careful not to pierce his skin as you balance on him, arms outstretched for show. Then, you loop your legs over his shoulder, around his neck, as he begins to rotate in the opposite direction, beginning the reverse-rotational dismount. Your legs form the splits as he begins to pick up speed, and you swear that even over the heavy thump of the rhythm you can hear his heartbeat racing, hear every pound of the beat.

Or perhaps, that’s your own.

Finally, you loop both legs around him so that he is the only thing holding you close to him, back facing the ice as he holds you by the waist as he continues to rapidly rotate.

It all happens so quickly. The entire lift shouldn’t take more than ten, fifteen seconds maximum. Jungkook spins and he spins and he spins and he does not let go of you, keeps his grip as tight as he can as the two of you meet eyes in the midst of it all, staring at each other with such determination, such fierceness, such intensity. Your faces hover so closely to each other, hardly an inch or two apart, the heat of your exhales fanning out over each other’s skin. You hold your breath as you prepare for the dismount. Jungkook spins you around once more, holding onto your waist as your legs come out to rest underneath you, and you hit the ice with a little skip but nothing more, your toepick catching in the ice just barely as the two of you come to a screeching halt.

You’ve done it. You’ve done it and you haven’t stopped staring into Jungkook’s eyes and he hasn’t let go of your waist and you are both panting, panting, panting.

“I got you,” he promises, breathes into your skin as your foreheads rest against each other’s. It’s not even the ending pose, it’s not even the end of the fucking song, but you’ve landed it and you’ve landed it together and that’s all that matters. That’s what will win you the gold. “I got you, I got you.”

It is intimate. Too intimate for your liking, really. You have never been so close, never felt so much, with Jeon Jungkook. You wonder if he can hear how your heartbeat rings through your ears. You wonder if he can tell that with each touch of his fingertips on your skin, goosebumps pop up and a fire ignites.

You wonder if it’s the same for him, though you doubt it is.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, how long you stare into his eyes until you’re drowning in the chocolate of his irises, the caramel that decorates it. Death by sweetness is not the worst way to go, you decide, when you glance you at his lips, so close to yours. They are so tempting, the way they curve into a smile, but you resist for the sake of professionalism, for the sake of winning.

This is a strictly professional relationship. You are figure skaters, nothing more, nothing less. You are one-time ice dancing partners, nothing more, nothing less.

So then why do you feel like you’re missing something?

Namjoon and Hoseok rush over to you, pulling the four of you into a huge group hug as you celebrate sticking the landing, doing it perfectly.

“I told you!” You cry out, smacking Namjoon in the back. “I told you Coach, I knew we could do it!”

Namjoon nods, conceding. “I should have known that the two of you would have been able to pull it off.”

“You guy did awesome today,” Hoseok says as the four of you skate towards the exist. “Practice dismissed. Nationals in two days!” He says giddily, shooting you a thumbs up as you and Jungkook exit the rink, pulling your skate guards on before heading towards the locker rooms.

“Congrats, you guys,” Namjoon says, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so elated. “I can’t believe that you’re so close to national fame. You’re gonna kick ass at Nationals, you know that? You’re gonna knock everyone’s socks off, blow their houses down.”

You smile, nothing more than wholly and completely relieved. Even though this is only the first time you’ve landed it, it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, like you can finally breathe again.

“Light practice tomorrow, alright? I just wanna see that ending again, just in case I had been imagining it,” Namjoon asks of the two of you, and you nod happily in return. You never thought you’d be so excited to run through the final lift.

On the way back, you try to keep your distance from Jungkook, the mere thought of being any closer to him sending nerves shooting through your brain, sending shivers down your spine. All that you see every time you blink are his wide eyes, staring back at you, searching for something behind the haze.

“You did a good job today,” Jungkook says mindlessly, and oh God, the conversation has resorted back to ice breakers and small talk.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “You too.”

“What did you think of the lift?” He asks, clearly making a desperate attempt for you to just make eye contact with him, but you will yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. You stay silent for a while, the only sound near you the padding of your skate guards against the arena floor.

“It was good,” you comment quickly, gently, nodding your head slightly.

“It was our best one yet,” Jungkook says, continuing. It’s obvious that all he wants is for you to look at him, and you cannot even offer him that. “I’m telling you—” he says, and even though you are listening to him you wonder if he thinks that you aren’t.

You highly doubt that. Jungkook knows you too well to know when you’re not paying attention to him.

“—if we do it like that at Nationals, we’re guaranteed gold, don’t you think?”

You shrug unhelpfully.

He stops, causing you to do the same on instinct. Before you can turn away from him, he grabs onto your wrist, keeps your feet planted firmly on the ground and forces you to look him in the eyes. He looks so desperate like this.

“You just need to trust me, Y/N,” Jungkook says, gazing into your eyes and hopelessly searching for a response that is deeper than words alone. “Do you trust me?”

You’re scared that if you spend too much time looking into his eyes, you’ll drown in them. Without another word, you pull away from him, running into the locker rooms and not coming out until you’re sure he’s gone.

When you were little, just starting out as a junior skater, you would watch the televised championships broadcasted on your little box cable television in your living room, always turning around to tell your mother than one day, you’d be there.

Oh, how the times have changed.

You walk into the rink for practice before the big day, duffel bag resting carefully on your shoulder, and you feel the breath leave your lungs. You had only ever dreamed about being here, about standing on that rink and skating out in a national competition, but now you are here, and you will skate in a national competition, and it feels so surreal and overwhelming and you can feel your heart pounding and your mind racing.

Maybe it’s just the feeling of being here, of being so close to living out your dream, only a few more steps away. Or maybe it’s the feeling of being here with Jungkook, being on the verge of victory with him by your side. Both thoughts terrify you equally, though you find that when you think of Jungkook, instead of your heart racing, it stops.

Outside of practice, the two of you have not spoken since the day you conquered the lift, executed it nearly flawlessly with his hands on your waist and your lips hovering above his. During practice, the two of you hardly speak at all, only a few words exchanged here or there discussing the routine.

It’s strange. Two months ago you were hoping and praying that for rest of your time spent together, you would verbally interact with Jungkook as little as possible, and yet here you are, wishing you could do more than just avoid each other. It’s easy to see that something’s changed but it’s difficult to discern why, to sift through the practices and the programs and fake dates and look for something deeper. Maybe Jungkook really has always been like this, cold, aloof, distant, but after getting to know him so closely, so intimately over the past several weeks, you find that hard to believe anymore.

What should be more concerning to you than whatever peculiar relationship you currently share with Jungkook, you realize, is the fact that ever since your last practice back at your home rink, the scent familiar and warm and the scenery comforting, you have not landed the final lift.

In fact, it’s as if you’ve gone right back to square one, with you and Jungkook inevitably doing something wrong on that last turn, the final rotation before he puts you down and you skate into the finale. There’s something that’s changed, a reason why suddenly you’re not getting a lift you thought you had finally mastered, and not only is it stressing you and Jungkook out, it’s sending major panic waves to your coaches, who look like they are in a constant state of absolute crisis.

“Again,” Hoseok orders from where he leans against the edge of the rink, watching the two of you rehearse the move over and over.

You groan, stretching and cracking the bones at the bottom of your back, the muscles tight from so many contorted positions. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve repeated it, attempting to land the lift to no avail. Turning your head, you look towards Jungkook, who is already skating back to the starting position with a solemn expression on his face, one of serious concentration and nothing else. He looks so different like this, empty and hollow. The life in his blood has drained out, leaving nothing but dust in its place.

You skate over to him, lining your feet up exactly so you can gain momentum with a couple of loops and diagonals before he is able to maintain the speed throughout the trick. With his hands placed gently on your waist, they no longer feel the way they used to. There’s something missing, something you cannot quite pinpoint, not even as Jungkook pulls you up onto his thigh and the stunt begins.

As per usual, everything goes swimmingly up until the last part, with your back facing the ice, your arms stretched out like an acrobat as he holds onto your waist and nothing else. When he pulls you back up for you to land safely, there is always a stumble, a trip, and then a fall, and the two of you come tumbling down within another second.

Ignoring the looks from the other skaters, the two of you get up and make your way back to Hoseok, who has been rubbing at his temples in worry the entire time. You don’t even want to think about what Namjoon is doing, who told the three of you that he would be going to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago. The poor guy might actually lose his mind.

“Want us to run it again?” Jungkook asks, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. He’s already beginning to turn around to go back to the designated spot.

“No, no,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. “You guys have run it enough. No point in trying any longer.”

“Coach,” you say, expression falling. Is he just giving up on you? Is that what this has come to?

“Really, I know you guys can do it. It’s too late to cut it out of the routine, anyway, so we shouldn’t even bother,” Hoseok insists, hand coming down from his forehead to grip the railing that surrounds the rink. “You’re probably really tired, too. You should get some rest before the competition tomorrow, since you’re gonna be putting all of your effort into it.”

“Coach, what’s wrong?” You ask, scurrying over to the exit to the ice rink, tugging on your skate guards and walking over. You’re only aware that Jungkook is following you because you can hear the distinct click of his guards being attached to his blades.

Hoseok takes a deep breath, exhaling the same way. He sits down on the bench nearby, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. You sit down next to him, concerned. What if you being able to do the trick the entire time was just a fluke? Dumb luck? What if you really cannot do it, and you fall in front of thousands of people and professional judges and live cameras tomorrow, kissing your gold goodbye?

Is it your fault? Are you doing something wrong?

Or is it Jungkook?

You cannot believe you are resorting to pointing fingers and placing blame, just like you had a month ago. You thought you had moved on from that, but the stress is getting to your brain and nerves jitter throughout your body and you don’t know how to stop them. You’ve been shaking for three days straight.

“Nothing,” Hoseok tells you, but you both know he’s lying. “I’m just… understandably worried about tomorrow. You know, because.”

“Is there anything we can do?” You ask.

Hoseok chuckles. “Yeah, land the lift tomorrow.”

You force a smile, looking up to Jungkook as he stands beside the bench, gazing out towards the rink with his arms crossed over his chest. You don’t know if you can muster up the courage to talk to him.

It’s like day one, all over again.

“We’re gonna try our hardest, right Jungkook?” You say, the sound of his name as it leaves your lips snapping him out of his trance. He turns to you with wide eyes, brown and big and beautiful, before shifting his view to Hoseok and nodding.

“We got this, Coach,” he says, that signature cocky lilt peeking in through each syllable. “We’re gonna fucking nail it tomorrow, nobody out there is gonna know what hit them.”

Though Hoseok looks hardly convinced, he cracks a grin nonetheless, getting up with a heave and bidding the two of you good luck, dismissing you from your final practice together.

It feels weird. The thought of this being your final practice before competition, your first and last one together. And then, Taehyung’s leg will have healed and he will be free to skate again, with some caution, of course. And Jungkook will go back to ruling the men’s single skate, collecting medals by the dozen, and he will forget all about the time he got dragged into ice dancing with a girl he barely knew.

You almost don’t want to leave, want to savor the moment for as long as you can before it disintegrates in your hands. Over the past two months, dare you say, Jeon Jungkook has become something of a friend. He has become someone you find yourself blindly trusting, someone you’ll put all of your faith into even if in the end he will steer you wrong. He has become someone you don’t want to forget, but someone you know you should. After all, this is a one time thing. When you return home from competition, with potential gold medals hanging proudly from your necks, you will part ways.

The next day, you will walk in with Taehyung by your side and begin to prep for next season, learning the new skills Namjoon will teach you and mastering the choreography Hoseok will create. And you will spot Jungkook at another rink, skating alone to music playing from his wireless headphones. He will come to a stop at the same time as you, and you will meet eyes and wonder what might have happened if he stayed.

And everything will go back to normal.

You begin to walk from the arena, making your way to the hotel across the street to settle in for the night and prepare for tomorrow. There’s a sheet mask with your name written all over it waiting in the bathroom in your room, and you want nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and cover your face in skincare products.

“See you tomorrow?” Jungkook asks casually once you’ve gotten to the door to your room. His room is just across from yours. His tone is nonchalant, distant. His words feel like an obligation, rather than a choice.

Just like the ice dancing.

You nod, hand on the doorknob as you begin to turn your back to him to head inside. “See you tomorrow.”

You make your way inside, shutting the door behind you quickly and peering through the peephole. Jungkook waits outside his door for a little bit, staring straight at yours for a moment too long before shaking his head slightly and retreating to his room himself. You wonder what he’s thinking, what’s going on in his mind.

Before long, all thoughts of Jungkook are forgotten as you collapse in your bathtub, letting the water wash over you like waves pulling you away from the shore.

Your entire life thus far has been preparing you for this one day, you decide as you stand in the sidelines, watching the other skaters glide gracefully across the ice as warm-ups. You and Jungkook are the last ones to go on for the free skate (having acquired the highest short dance score, thank God), meaning you will in turn be the last ones to warm up for it.

As Jungkook is adjusting the tights wrapped around his legs, Taehyung pulls you aside. He had accompanied your little herd to Nationals, quoting “moral support” as his reasoning for being there. Namjoon and Hoseok are too soft for him to reject him, so here he is.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, and the serious tone tells you that he’s not about to tell you some lame joke about one of the other figure skaters.

“What?” You ask, glancing up at the digital clock floating along the rim of the seats.

“You haven’t been getting the lift with Jungkook,” Taehyung points out, and you are suddenly reminded that throughout all of the practices you have had so far at Nationals, he’s been watching every single one. Taehyung knows you better than anyone else, like the back of his hand, and he can typically tell when something is going wrong. “Coach Namjoon said you had been getting it a ton back home… what’s happened?”

“Not you,” you say with a groan, tilting your head back in exasperation. It seems that everyone around you is concerned with the lift and nothing else, each word placing another pound of pressure atop your shoulders. “Yes, we haven’t been getting it recently. Why?”

“Because you’ve gotten it before,” Taehyung says, “and I don’t understand what’s changed.”

Neither do you. “Nothing’s changed,” you spit quickly, already regretting how bitter the words sound as they leave your mouth.

“Why are you so stiff?” Taehyung asks, getting progressively more concerned. “You’re never like this before comps.”

You scoff. “I’m not stiff.”

Taehyung tuts. “You’re so stubborn sometimes. Look at you,” he says, motioning down to you. You’re tapping your guarded skate incessantly on the arena floor, your eyebrows are on a constant state of knitted together, and your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, wrists itchy from all of the glitter on your costume. “You’re all tense. Want me to massage you?”

Only Taehyung would offer a massage to you while in a cast, balancing on crutches. “I don’t need a massage, Taehyung.”

“Is it Jungkook?”

His name catches you off guard, as it so often does these days. “What?”

Taehyung leans in closer. “Is he making you feel this way?”

You’re rendered speechless. “I…”

Taehyung looks at you gently, searching in your eyes for an answer he knows you won’t give him outright. “If he’s giving you a hard time, just say something, Y/N.”

“That’s the thing,” you find yourself whispering, so quiet you can barely hear yourself over the thumping of your heart.

“What?” Taehyung asks, thoroughly confused with where you’re going with this.

“I don’t…” You begin hesitantly, hoping and praying that he isn’t listening in. “I don’t know how I feel about him, alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t figure it out,” you say, and this might be the most honest you’ve been with yourself in a long while. “I just…”

“Do you like him?” Taehyung asks, finally beginning to connect the dots together in his mind. He’s got a little smile on his face, a knowing one that already tells you everything.

“I don’t know!” You respond, raising your voice out of pure stress. All of these questions are slowly driving you mad. All you want are answers, concrete things to feel and see and touch, but the thought of Jungkook is none of those things, and you find yourself left with nothing but more questions.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says softly. “Seriously, you don’t need to be so scared if you do like him.” He says, reaching out a soothing hand to rest on your upper arm. The touch makes you shiver, but maybe you’ve just been so deprived of human touch recently that everything feels foreign.

“I’m not scared,” you say sharply.

Taehyung frowns. “You look terrified.”

You make absolutely no attempt to mask what is definitely a frightened expression on your face. All you say is, “I’m not scared! I’m just…” you trail off, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what I am, Tae.”

Taehyung beams, seemingly having an answer to every single one of your questions. Maybe this is what he’s been doing these past few weeks he’s spent not skating, falling in love with that guy named Jimin and suddenly becoming the Local Love Expert, guiding you with a hand on your back. “You’re a talented ice dancer who may or may not be in love with her partner but it doesn’t matter because you’re gonna kick ass either way,” he promises proudly.

You crack a smile, perhaps out of desperation, perhaps out of relief.

“Taehyung,” you say, voice pleading. “What do I do…”

Taehyung holds both of your hands in his, looking intently into your eyes with the determination of a man about to go off to war. “You go out there and put all of your trust in Jungkook and give the best damn show of your life, that’s what.”

“Taehyung…”

“If you’re worried about Jungkook, Y/N, don’t be,” he promises softly, and you finally turn your head to Jungkook as he begins to walk towards the ice rink to warm up for your performance. He’s covered in sparkles from head to toe but his eyes glitter the brightest. “Have you even seen him? He treats you like a snowflake. Like one wrong move, and he’ll lose you forever.”

When the time comes for you and Jungkook to close out the show with your program, you find that the nerves in your body have been replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread, instead.

You dread the way he will put his hands on your waist or your cheek or your neck and the way you will melt into his touch, caving into the feeling. You dread the final lift, the one that not only the gold medal, but any medal is riding on. You dread the conclusion to your performance, when the crowd will cheer for a couple that is nothing more than a farce, a one-time deal, and you will pretend that it will be like this forever. You dread the feeling of nervous anticipation at the end, where you will be anxiously waiting for your score. You dread the arrival of tomorrow, when Jungkook will slip between your fingertips before you even get a chance to say goodbye.

Jeon Jungkook can promise you nothing more than what will happen in the next four minutes, whether it be good or bad, and while that sinking feeling in your chest tells you that it isn’t enough, your heart is willing to take it.

You meet up with Jungkook right at the entrance to the rink. He looks at you with a determination in his eyes and spunk in his wild smile, and you think that out of all of the Jungkooks you know, this one is your favorite. He takes your hand in his, holds it securely in his grip with a refusal to let you go, and the two of you skate onto the ice to cheers.

After doing a half a lap each, the two of you join in the center of the rink. You line up in the post Hoseok had instructed you so carefully to do, take in a deep breath, and the music begins.

Muscle memory, at this point, is what keeps your racing heart from thumping right out of your chest. You have rehearsed this routine so many times that it is practically engraved on the inside of your eyelids, embedded in your bloodstream.

Muscle memory is also what keeps you from thinking about Jungkook for too long, from thinking about the way he holds onto you like you’ll fly away if he lets go, the way he refuses to stop staring into your eyes as you glide across the ice like swans. Hoseok had choreographed your new routine with the intention of taking the anger you once felt towards him and turning it into passion. But now, instead of anger is something softer, something more delicate. But Jungkook refuses to give in, the fire igniting in his eyes with every turn he makes, and you realize that passion is what will give you the score. Love is what will give you the medal.

You skate along with ease, feeling the way you melt under his hot touch but doing nothing to stop it, not as he leads you through the first lift to a chorus of applause and hoots from the crowd. When you separate for the first series of twizzles, though you no longer feel his touch, the ghost of his fingertips dance along your skin, sending a lightning bolt to your heart as you spin in synchronization.

You wonder what you must look like to an outsider, right now. What the people watching see. Do they see a pair of ice dancers, shredding up the rink as they attempt to get the gold? Or do they see something more? Do they see the devotion in your eyes, the dedication you have for the sport? Or do they see the way your eyes never leave Jungkook’s, not unless they absolutely must. The way you lean into his touch despite it ruining your perfectly straight form. Can they see that, as well?

With the second lift successfully cleared, you begin to gain a little more confidence. There’s less than a minute left in your routine and you still have the last lift to go, the most comprehensive of them all. But even as the seconds tick down it feels like time stretches out, like you’ve been skating with Jungkook for years and this is just a measly four minutes, but it is so much more than that.

As you approach the final lift, your speed the only thing propelling you into his arms, time stops. It freezes entirely, leaves the two of you zooming forwards as it comes to a halt. Your surroundings seem to blur when he puts his hands on you, pulls you up onto his thigh for the first part of the lift. They turn to white in the second part, and suddenly Jungkook is the only thing you can focus on, the only thing you can think of. All that flashes through your mind as you loop yourself into the final hold is his name, Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. He is the only thing on your mind. He is the only person who has your heart.

And you land, blades falling firmly onto the ice as you spin outwards, not a single stumble in sight.

The crowd suddenly reappears, and around you the setting becomes clear as day. The cheers are deafening but you can hardly hear them, not as you make eye contact with him and he smiles, grins, beams. Just in time with the music, the program ends with the two of you holding each other close, his arms wrapped around your waist and your palms holding his cheeks, foreheads resting against each other.

Perhaps you can make out Namjoon and Hoseok shouting from the sidelines, Taehyung yelling from his spot on the benches nearby, but all you can feel is Jungkook’s hot breath fanning out over your skin, and the warmth of his body as he tugs you in tightly.

Finally, after what feels like a million years too short, you part, nothing but the biggest and brightest smiles breaking out onto your faces. Customary to the tradition, you both bow to the audience, holding each other’s hands as you thank them, turning in each direction so as not to miss a single person.

He lets go of your hand so that you may begin to skate around yourselves, waving to the cheering audience. You skate around each other, getting every part of the arena. You look down into the sidelines and see Namjoon and Hoseok shouting for you, pumping their firsts up in the air. Your vision’s never been the greatest, but is that Namjoon crying?

When you turn back, you see Jungkook skating around as the audience showers the rink in roses and other celebratory flowers. He beams with the light of a thousand suns, and you wonder if you stare at him for too long, if you’ll go blind. And then you decide that even so, falling in love with him isn’t so bad.

After the applause dies down, you and Jungkook skate back to the exit, where Namjoon is happily holding your skate guards as he waits for you. As you step onto the pavement, he pulls you both in for a bone-crushing hug, words muffled from how excited he is.

“You did it!” Hoseok says as he comes bounding over, giving you a high-five that’s definitely going to sting for a while. “I’m so proud of you guys! I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

You and Jungkook are both equally terrible at responding to compliments, and the feeling of them coming in by the dozen overwhelms you slightly. But, before you can walk over to the platform to receive your scores, you feel someone wrapping their arms around your torso.

“You just fucking murdered everyone!” Taehyung shouts, loud enough for the other couples to hear as they pass by you. “We’re all deceased! All of us!”

You laugh, pulling in Taehyung for the biggest one-legged hug you’ve ever received. When you part, he grins.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m so fucking glad I broke my leg,” Taehyung tells you, and the comment both horrifies you and flatters you.

Not a moment after, Namjoon is patting your back and motioning for you to join him and Jungkook on the bench at the platform where you will receive your scores, find out if you’ve won gold. You scurry over, taking a soft seat next to Jungkook as his hands instinctively come to grab onto yours, holding them tight as you look up at the scoreboard.

What happens next is mostly a blur.

You can only catch a quick glimpse of your names, being moved up to first place, before you hear Namjoon shout as he pumps his fist in the air. Suddenly, you feel Jungkook wrapping himself around you, pulling you in for the tightest hug of your life as tears suddenly begin to well up in your eyes. It all feels like it’s happening in slow-motion, like your life is a movie and this is the part where all of the music and dialogue cut out and there is nothing left but slow-motion film.

And then, Jungkook’s palms are on your cheeks and he meets your eyes with his crescent ones, and he kisses you.

In front of thousands of people, on national television, he kisses you. And you’ll be damned if you don’t kiss back. The audience erupts into cheers yet again, but you drown them out with the feeling of his lips on yours. He is warm and bright and wonderful, and his lips are as soft and as sweet as you had hoped. Jungkook kisses you on national television, in front of skaters, judges, audience members, and you feel like the world has stopped but you keep going. You feel like you’re floating off into space, and the stars are beautiful but so is Jungkook.

You part, heavy breaths and heaving chests, before Jungkook tugs you up from where you were seated on the bench so that you can wave once more. Not only are you gold-medalists in a national competition, but you are also lovers.

Though perhaps, you always have been.

(Later, at the medal ceremony, you and Jungkook are standing high on the top of the podium, unable to hold back your smiles. With bouquets in your hands and medals around your necks, you turn to Jungkook and he squeezes your hand tightly in response, and you feel like you can conquer the world.)

On the way back to the hotel room, the adrenaline rush slowly filtering out of your system with each passing second, you glance down to your interlocked hands and wonder aloud: “When did you realize you loved me?”

Jungkook seems caught off guard, pausing in the lobby of your posh hotel as he begins to think. You turn to face him, looking at him with curiosity lacing your features.

“I know,” he says, as if he’s just had a mental contemplation with himself to discern the moment in its entirety. “When we were doing that trust exercise, and you crashed me into the wall.”

“That was when you fell in love with me?” You ask in shock, mouth dropped open.

“Well, no, not really,” Jungkook reasons carefully. “I think I had fallen in love with you a while before then. But then, when I pulled off the scarf and saw you keeling over with laughter, I realized it.”

You hum, nodding at his response as you begin to slowly but surely make your way to the elevators. Ever since the win, it seems that time has just gotten progressively slower, like it’s beginning to cater to all of the lost time you and Jungkook share.

“What about you, hmm? When did you fall in love with me?” He asks cheekily, nudging your arm gently as he pushes the up button on the wall.

“Did I fall in love with you?” You jokingly say, furrowing your brows as you pretend to debate the topic. Jungkook pouts, and his face is just too cute to resist. “I fell in love with you the first time we had gotten on the ice together. Namjoon made us skate laps while holding each other’s hands, and while my mind didn’t initially register it, my heart realized that you were the person I had been waiting for.”

Jungkook grins at your answer, leaning down to nuzzle your nose gently with his own. The elevator door opens beside you, the familiar ding echoing throughout the end of the hallway.  Jungkook smiles, pulling you into compact space and pressing you against the wall as you gasp in surprise. Right as the doors close, he leans in close, his lips dancing over yours.

You lose track of time when you’re with Jungkook. The last thing you can remember is him tugging you out of the elevator once it reached your floor, your collarbones and neck already beginning to blossom with bruises—and not from falling on the ice—and pulling you into his hotel room, shutting the door behind you.

All that’s on your mind, all that is ever on your mind, is Jungkook. The softness of his hair as your fingers entangle themselves in it, tugging on the strands to pull him impossibly closer. The crinkles by his eyes when he smiles as he leans into you, soft pink lips grazing your own, teasing you. The curve of his body, the way you fit so snugly next to it, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to complete each other. He is the final piece of your missing puzzle, the piece you had always thought you’d lost, the one you almost give up on. That is Jungkook in every sense of the word, every electrifying feeling he leaves in a path of fire down your skin.

You kiss. For hours on end, you kiss, unable to get enough of the taste of each other, the feel of your bodies pressed together not in a lustful way, but in a loving way. You sit on his bed for hours and you just kiss, pressing your lips together and refusing to part. He is the air that you breathe.

It’s 2AM when something is finally done.

Namjoon, key card in hand, roughly and abruptly opens the door to his room, knowing fully well what the two of you are doing in there. You part like deer caught in the headlights, jumping back from each other even though it’s only Namjoon, but he’s seen you kiss enough today.

“Alright, out, Y/N,” he orders, much to you and Jungkook’s dismay. He pouts as you stand up, reaching an arm out to touch you a final time. “Stop canoodling.”

“Don’t leave me,” Jungkook begs.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna see her in like, five hours. Calm down, Jeon,” he says, sighing as you make your way to your own room, still hazy from the high, drunk off of his touch. “You can canoodle whenever. You’re together now, aren’t you?”

Taehyung gets his cast off and by the next day, he’s back on the ice despite all warnings from his doctor to Not Do That. You tell him to listen to his physician and lay off the intense physical exercise for a while, considering the bone just healed, but Taehyung insists otherwise.

He’s not your partner anymore, for ice dancing. Obviously, he is not your partner, not when every day you walk in five minutes late to practice with Jungkook on your arm and a coffee mug in your hand. Your noses are always frostbitten from the cold, and you’re always smiling. Namjoon’s learned to accept it, especially since you’re his best ice dancing duo anyway. Taehyung had walked in the day after Nationals, took one look at the two of you, and happily gave up his position as your partner.

His reasoning? “You finally have a refutable love life, Y/N. I’m not gonna fuck that up.”

He’s a single skater now, and Hoseok says he is doing remarkably well for someone who has spent his entire ice skating career thus far relying on another person to do half of the work.

By now, everyone in the country knows who you are. Besides being the reigning national champions, apparently your relationship is just super adorable to a majority of the population, everyone obsessing over how #relationshipgoals you constantly are as you make too many posts about each other on your Instagrams and spend fifteen minutes during interviews talking about what you love about the other person. It seems, to the public at least, that the two of you simply cannot get enough of each other, and while that’s not necessarily true, it’s pretty obvious how infatuated you are with each other.

But hey, nobody’s complaining.

One question you find yourselves getting a lot, with each TV interview and radio show you do, is how you ended up meeting, especially since Jungkook had previously been a solo skater and you had been working with Taehyung. And each time, Jungkook shares a knowing smile with you, one that makes your heart burst into song, and he says, “Well, it all started with a broken leg…”

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

⇒ check out the post-script drabble here!

[futiledevices]

tagged by miss sannesus @nobodyelsewillbethere 💖 this is good, something this website needs is me talking more

A-age: 259 months

B-birthplace: nashville, tennessee

C-current time: 5:54pm

D-drink you had last: this made me get up and pour myself some peach juice

E-easiest person to talk to: anyone who can go along with a joke

F-favorite song: im a libra so picking favorites is the equivalent of asking which limb i’d like to saw off

G-grossest memory: the time i had to saw off that limb bc someone asked me what my favorite song was

H-hogwarts house: rabenclay but this question physically hurt me so the new prompt is Ham and my answer is: i would like to try an iberico ham! i’ve never had one and i am fascinated with the concept. wait now this question is about Horchata: great drink and my moms favorite vampire weekend song

I-in love: w/ myself! and positivity! i constantly try to surround myself with things i love and my life has improved drastically for it

J-jealous of people: only when people are getting praise and attention for something i could’ve done better/take credit for my work 😬

K-killed someone: my post now the new prompt for K is Kitty and yes i have one and his name is maurice!

L-love at first sight or walk by again: somethings gotta immediately catch my eye but of course the real fun is diving deeper and gradually getting more invested

M-middle name: paige! my parents gave me a whole ass first name and then promptly decided to never call me it ever again. same goes for my siblings we all go by our middle names i do not know why my parents did this

N-number of siblings: 4 brothers; one older, three younger (+bonus sister-in-law)

O-one wish: unfunny answer: to not be so fucked in the head! life would be a lot easier.  still unfunny answer but slightly less serious: i’d like to have a cute lil freckle under my eye or the ability to do a handstand

P-person you called last: mather! my parents are the only people i call and those conversations last MAX 5 min. see also: W-worst habit (makes me especially bad for phone conversation)

Q-question you are asked most: how do you pronounce your last name/where are you from/wait how did you say it’s pronounced again/sorry one more time?

S-song you last sang: take one line from every vixx song and mash them together that’s been my brain’s background music for the past month

T-time you woke: 8ish

U-underwear color: black

V-vacation destination: anywhere! i love traveling! i specifically love car rides and plane rides and walking places like i enjoy the literal act of traveling. come to think of it i tend to enjoy the journey more than the destination..

W-worst habit: mumbling? i have a very soft high-pitched voice and im usually unsure of my place in the conversation so most of the things out of my mouth are stutters and sentence fragments. i only struggle with casual conversation though, im very comfortable giving speeches/presentations/being onstage/etc

X-xrays: i’ve never broken a bone but my youngest brother just fractured his tibia on mothers day so i’ve seen an x-ray quite recently

Y-your favorite food: chocolate! i love sweets in general

Z-zodiac sign: libra sun/cancer moon/virgo rising 🤔

im too shy to tag people so for real if you wanna do this feel free to say i tagged you! i love reading about other people