#skate smut

[atomic-raunch]

Shirley Skates

[chimcess]

⮞ Teaser Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Coach!Yoongi, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Drop Date: 01/20/2025 Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player.

I never used to think about what came after. Why would I? It felt pointless, like trying to guess the end of a novel when you’re still tangled in the middle. Every chapter rushing by, barely letting you catch your breath. Sometimes, life dangled a dream so vivid, so close, you could almost feel it in your hands. But right when you thought you had it? That’s when life reminded you—pages stop turning. Lights flick off. And suddenly, you’re back in the grind, stuck right where you started.

Normal? No chance. I wouldn’t recognize normal if it jumped out of the shadows and hit me. Normal was for people who punched clocks and sipped lukewarm coffee in beige cubicles. My mornings started when the world was still dark—lacing up my skates, the cold air biting at my face. Stretch until the pain dulled, practice until my routines were burned into my mind like a broken record. The rink smelled like sweat, frost, and desperation, clinging to me as I chased that perfect moment, day in and day out.

That was my life. Until it wasn’t.

From the moment I took my first steps, the ice had been my escape. My personal sanctuary. Each time my skates touched the frozen surface, electricity sparked through me, alive in my bones. My mom, Emily, she saw it first. She recognized that fire in me and latched on, pulling me headfirst into the competitive skating world. She wasn’t just supportive—she was relentless, like a storm barreling down on me, pushing me to be perfect. To her, maybe that was all that mattered.

People whispered behind her back, saying she was living vicariously through me, chasing dreams she’d lost. But I didn’t resent her for it. Her ambition, fierce and all-consuming, burned like a fire. It kept me warm—even when it scorched me. It wasn’t the trophies or the standing ovations that drove me. It was the ice itself. Out there, I wasn’t just a name on a roster. I was free.

Emily had been a skater once, too. But life, cruel and chaotic, had other plans. Her dreams fizzled out, lost somewhere between time and circumstance. When she got pregnant with me, she married my dad, Jim, and watched her ambitions wither like dead leaves. Year by year, regret settled in, until all she had left was me—and the ice. I became her second chance.

She met Jim when she was still a bright-eyed girl in a small town, dreaming big. He came to Michigan for police training; she was restless, yearning for more. They fell in love—or something close to it. Soon enough, I came along, and after a quick courthouse wedding, our lives unraveled. Emily and I left Michigan for Colorado, chasing skating dreams. Jim drifted back to Olympia, Washington, sinking into his routine like it was quicksand.

I became the bridge between them, constantly tugged between my dad’s predictable world and my mom’s fierce drive. Stability—something I longed for—was never in the cards. Emily hated Michigan, so we stayed away. Jim became less of a father and more of a ghost.

The crackle of the intercom yanked me from my thoughts. My knee throbbed, a bitter reminder.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re starting our descent into Detroit, where it’s currently five-eighteen p.m., and a frigid fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. Please secure your belongings.”

Michigan. I was back, but it didn’t feel like home. It hadn’t for years. And yet, here I was. Family wasn’t a refuge—not with Jim. He felt more like a stranger now, a shadow of someone I used to know. The home we once had? Long gone.

Monday, I’d meet with Dr. Jeon. People swore he was the best, but deep down, I already knew none of it mattered. The moment my skate hit that rough patch of ice, when my body twisted and the world flipped upside down, I knew—my skating days were over.

I could still see it. The rink, bathed in soft afternoon light, the sound of *Swan Lake* floating through the air. I wasn’t competing that day, just skating for the sheer joy of it. Emily and my coach were in the bleachers, discussing my next routine. I built up speed, heading into a fan spiral, when it happened. My blade caught. My leg buckled. I hit the ice hard. Everything went dark.

The plane’s landing gear screeched, snapping me back to the present. My heart raced, the memory fading like smoke. As the plane stopped, passengers scrambled for their bags. I waited, letting them pass, before grabbing my things. The crutches in my hands were cold, unfamiliar. I used to glide effortlessly across the ice, and now, here I was—struggling just to stay upright on solid ground.

At baggage claim, I stared at the mountain of luggage, feeling the weight of it all sink in. How was I supposed to manage with no free hands?

“You need a hand?”

The voice startled me. I turned and saw him—tall, with warm brown eyes that somehow felt like they saw right through me. Before I could respond, someone bumped into me, and my crutch clattered to the floor. I wobbled, reaching out to steady myself, but he was faster. He caught me.

For a moment, the noise, the crowd, everything blurred. It was just us, frozen in time.

“You alright?” His voice was soft, steady, his hands still gripping my arms. I nodded, heat flushing my face as I pulled away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I muttered. He bent down, picking up my crutch. As he handed it back, his eyes lingered on me, not with pity, but with something else. Understanding, maybe.

“No problem.” His smile was easy, casual, but there was something behind it, like he had more to say.

Around us, life resumed its frantic pace—people rushing by, voices bouncing off the airport’s high ceilings. But for just a second longer, it was still only us.

“Need help with your bags?” he asked, glancing at the heap of luggage. 

I hesitated, my pride prickling. “I’ve got it,” I said, even though I clearly didn’t. My knee throbbed in protest.

He didn’t push. Just smiled, unbothered, and shrugged. “Alright. But it’s no trouble if you change your mind.”

As I shifted my weight, feeling the twinge in my leg, I sighed. “Okay, yeah, I could use some help.” The words tasted like defeat, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He easily grabbed my suitcase, balancing my smaller bag on top. I clung to my messenger bag, determined to carry something myself.

"Is someone picking you up?" he asked as we walked toward the sliding glass doors, the cold Michigan air sneaking in like a thief in the night.

"No, I'll just grab a cab," I said, weaving through the crowd. His presence next to me felt steady, comforting, like a life raft I didn’t even know I needed. 

“I’ve got my car in the overnight lot,” he offered casually, like it was no big deal. “I could give you a ride if you want.”

For a moment, I hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. “No, it’s okay,” I said, almost too quickly. “A cab’s fine.” But something shifted in his face—just for a second. Disappointment? Or was that just my imagination?

We stepped outside, and the cold hit me like a slap, sharp and biting. I cursed under my breath for not grabbing my gloves. 

He noticed, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile. “Forgot what Michigan feels like in January?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, pulling my coat tighter. “Something like that.” I should’ve been used to it by now. I grew up on ice, for God’s sake. But standing there in the freezing wind felt different, like the cold wasn’t just outside—it was creeping inside me, gnawing at the edges of something deeper.

“So, where were you before this?” he asked, his curiosity genuine, his breath hanging in the air like smoke.

“Nevada. Before that, Colorado. We moved around a lot.” I don’t even know why I was telling him this. I didn’t even know his name.

“We?” He raised an eyebrow, the question soft, but pointed.

“Me and my mom,” I said, my voice quieter now. “She’s never been one to stay put. Wherever she went, I followed.”

He nodded, like he understood more than he should. “A modern-day nomad. Sounds... exhausting.”

I let out a small laugh, more out of habit than anything else. “Yeah, it can be.” But there was something easy about him, something that made this whole conversation feel less strange, less fleeting.

“You staying here for a while?” he asked, his dark eyes locking with mine, the cold forgotten for a moment.

“For the foreseeable future,” I replied, surprising myself with how easily the words slipped out.

“Good to know.” His voice softened, like he was letting me in on some secret only we shared. That crooked smile crept back, and I felt my pulse quicken again. He had no idea what he was doing to me.

I bit my lip, trying to steady the rush of nerves rising in my chest. What was I even doing? Standing here, flirting with a stranger in the dead of winter? This wasn’t real life—it was the stuff of daydreams. But somehow, with him, it felt real. Almost too real.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, his hand lifting to ruffle his hair again. The messy strands fell back into place like he didn’t care—like he knew exactly how disheveled he looked and leaned into it.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed it. The airport, the cold wind—it all seemed to fade away, leaving just us in this strange, fleeting moment.

“You live nearby?” I asked, even though I knew I should’ve been hopping into a cab by now, getting out of this freezing wind and back to whatever was left of my life.

“Detroit,” he said, his breath fogging in the air like a ghost of something lost.

“Me too,” I said, a little too quickly. “Just moved there, actually.”

“Downtown?” He asked it casually, but his eyes were sharp, as if my answer might mean more than I realized.

“Royal Oak,” I said, nodding. “The old houses there... they’re beautiful.”

“They are,” he agreed, and there was something in the way he said it, like he was noticing things I didn’t even realize I was showing. His gaze flicked between my eyes and my lips, and for a moment, the air between us stretched thin, a fragile thread pulling us closer until a sharp gust of wind snapped it, jolting me back to reality.

"Welcome to Michigan," he said with a laugh, his voice warm against the icy air. Without warning, he reached down and took my bare hands in his. The warmth of his touch jolted through me, electric, racing straight to my core. For a second, I swore the ground shifted beneath us. Something unspoken buzzed between our hands.

“We should get you a cab,” he said, glancing down at my frozen fingers, his expression softening with concern. “You’re not exactly dressed for this weather.”

"Yeah, I probably should’ve planned better,” I admitted with a laugh, still caught up in the warmth of his hands, the way they made everything else feel just a little less cold. 

He waved down a cab with the ease of someone who’s done it a hundred times. I watched him as he loaded my bags into the trunk, every movement feeling like a countdown. And then, when he opened the passenger door for me, I hesitated. I stood at the edge of that moment, torn between the part of me that wanted to leave and the part that wanted to stay, just a little longer.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, looking up at him, my heart thudding hard in my chest.

“Jungkook,” he said, his voice soft, that crooked smile still tugging at his lips. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” I replied, the name slipping out of my mouth so naturally it felt like it was meant for him, like it was always supposed to be said here, in this cold, surreal moment.

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was testing it on his tongue, like it was something fragile and precious. He leaned in just a little, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Y/N?" His hand hovered near my shoulder, his voice even quieter now, almost as if he was about to share a secret meant only for me.

And suddenly, the world around us—everything—fell away. The cold, the noise, the blur of people rushing past. It was just him, standing there with that crooked grin, making me wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of whatever this was.

“Yeah, Jungkook?” I asked, my breath catching, anticipation curling low in my stomach.

“My friends and I... we hang out at this bar on Grand most Tuesdays. Billy’s?” He said it like a suggestion, but it felt like more. Like a bridge to whatever might come next. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime?”

A thrill shot through me, quick and unexpected. This wasn’t just some random, fleeting connection. He wanted to see me again. “Yeah,” I stammered, my voice barely steady. “I could swing by. Once I’m settled in.”

“Great.” His whole face lit up, and it was like watching a door creak open, revealing something softer, something vulnerable underneath. "I’ll see you around then, Y/N." He stepped back, shut the door behind me with a quiet finality.

As the cab pulled away, I turned, craning for one last look. He waved, easy and casual, and I lifted my hand in return, my heart still racing. Part of me wanted to freeze this moment, hold onto it before it slipped away. But the cab turned the corner, and just like that, he was gone.

I slumped back in the seat, exhaustion settling in like a heavy weight. I rested my head against the cold window, letting the chill ground me. This wasn’t just some daydream—it was real. And yet, as the city lights blurred by, doubts started creeping in, shadows curling at the edges of my mind. Would I really show up at Billy’s? Or would I let this whole thing fade, convincing myself it was just a fluke? 

But then I thought about him—Jungkook. That crooked smile. And a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder... What if?

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[girlokwhatever]

omg ur writing for Paige is literally beautiful- I was wondering if u could write something like ur hockey gf one but w a figure skating gf? hope ur having a good day/night 😓✊

had a few requests like this so here we go!!

paige bueckers x figure skater!gf hcs

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ paige with a figure skater gf,,

— she deeply admires your talent

- to her you’re the coolest person in the whole entire world

— even though she thinks it’s cool, it’s always worried you’re going to fall or get cut on the skate

- holds her breath during your entire routine

— doesn’t like watching you have a routine with a guy

- like why is he maneuvering you like that

- if he drops you she’ll give him the dirtiest looks later

— likes to go watch you practice (cheers you on fr)

— literally on the edge of her seat the whole routine

— takes pictures and videos (proud gf paige) and is always posting them

— she thinks you’re so sexy in your attire

- whether is the routine costume or just practice clothes (she likes how short the dresses and skirts are bffr)

— will lace up your skates for you after you taught her how

— paige will wear five layers of jackets because she gets so cold in the rink

— you tried to teach her how to skate………..

- she fell right on her ass BUT SHES DETERMINED

- will not go out and do it in public though

- you literally skated circles around her..

— brags about how you can do a triple axel

— “YEAHHH!! THATS MY GIRL FRIEND!”

- everyone is staring at her bc she’s so loud

— your ice skating friends tease her for not knowing how to skate

— “paige can you record me doing this move?”

- “i’m already recording baby.”

— threw a party when you got invited to join and train with the olympic team

- she’s so proud of you she lowkey cries

- cries even harder when you win an olympic gold medal

— she tells everyone you’re the best figure skater in the nation “for sure”

— complains every time she falls about how hard the ice is

— buys you brand new ice skates for your birthday (the exact ones you wanted bc paige knows you so well)

— she makes sure the ice is safe before you get on (you’re confused as to what she even does to check)

— “i don’t want him to throw you like that.”

- “why not? it’ll look really good,”

- “i read somewhere it could be dangerous”

- “oh really? where’d you read that?”

- “… iceskatingsafety.com.. duh”

— you hold her hands when you teach her how to skate

- she loves you

— you make her watch ‘i, tonya’

- she’s on the edge of her seat the whole time

— “can’t you just stick to the simple stuff?”

- “paige this is the olympics-“

— always affirming and praising you even after a rough performance

- “baby you’ll always be the most talented skater i know”

- “one fall doesn’t define you”

- “that was the most amazing routine i’ve ever seen”

— you guys like to go watch ice skating shows based on disney movies

— she hung a rack in your dorm for you to put all your medals on

- you’re a winner what can i say?!

— “baby you look so sexy in those pants”

- she’s saying this right after you fell on your ass

— “i’ll be your partner. don’t want you doing it with that guy.”

- “p, you can only skate in a straight line.”

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-⍣ ೋ

these are so cute

i love

[thedivineden]

Thin Ice

Summer Olympics Collab w/ @tetzoro

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: smut

words: 5k+

notes: dubcon, enemies, breeding, jujitsu kaisen au!figure skaters, slight mentions of sexual harassment from Gojo, obsession, controlling behaviors, jealousy, drugging, peer pressure, slight manipulation,

AN: I had so much fun writing this, you should see the notes I scribbled at work because we’re not allowed to have our phones! Thank you so much @tetzoro for allowing me to be apart of this lovely event. ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊

You and Gojo Satoru have been competing against each other since the day you were placed in the same class at nine years old. He was favored due to his family standing within the figure skating community but you had raw, unfiltered talent which shook him and his family to their core. Despite all your talent, he’s managed to win almost every single competition. You’d bet big money that it had to do with his family status but you don’t upset the balance until you’re both picked for the Olympics.

And boy were you fuming. “I ALONE have went through hell and back to be where I am whereas he gets placed just because of his family name! It’s preposterous Shoko!” you’ve been ranting to your coach for an hour about the competition; how you didn’t believe that he deserved to be here and wish you didn’t have to compete along side him. “That spoiled brat doesn’t have a INCH of talent in his bones even if it was injected with a needle!”

“Aw do you really hate me that much? I thought we were friends?” You turn to the door to see the lanky white haired man standing against its frame smiling down at you. “Friends? Satoru please, you know I never enjoyed your company now leave. I’m having a discussion with MY coach or are you wanting to take her away from me too?” Shoko stifled a small laugh and stood up. “Gojo, don’t stress my prodigy out. What do you want?”

Gojo never took his eyes off of you; he saw your annoyance as just another game. You roll your eyes and say, "Well, I was just coming to check on my favorite figure skater but I don't think she was to see me." Despite your request to go, Gojo slips into your room and envelops you in his arms. "I'll break all ten of your toes in five seconds if you don't get off of me."

Gojo chuckles at what you've said because he adores your fierce personality and is confident that you will follow through. You lost a tournament at 15 after he "jokingly" slapped your behind for taking first place and your only recourse was to throw your ice skate at him. His parents complained to the judges and got you disqualified.

You were more concerned about scuffing your brand-new Eden Piano ice skates than you were about the blade nearly striking him. You could feel his breath on your ear as he said, "Aw, must you struggle so much, you know you love it, and I know you love me, why don't we meet up later? My room?” You're furious now and shove him away from you. You're about to charge at him when Shoko, sporting her signature side grin, stands in between the two of you.

“Shall we maintain the calm? Alright, sweetie?” The man behind her laughs audibly, saying, "Yeah, sweetie! Let's maintain harmony.” Even though you were angry, you wouldn't allow him or anybody else to sour your mood. "Shoko, you're right; I won't have to deal with him for very long. After the Olympics, I'm heading to Brazil, and I have no intention of returning to Tokyo.” That touched a nerve; your coach's gasp indicates to Gojo that she was equally clueless. You had no idea that your remark had the man fuming.

You? Leaving? The young man finds just such idea absurd. Ever since he first saw you in class, you have been everything to him. You were not impressed with Gojo's antics, even if he is accustomed to getting his way. No matter how many pranks and tricks he performed or how many gifts he put in your locker, his efforts were consistently disregarded.

The man continued to essentially harass you every day despite your denial. He would make harsh remarks about your body, clearly taking care to point out that you are curvier than all the other figure skaters in the class or that your ass is "so massive that you might tip over," which would ultimately be the undoing of you. You could not care less, and all he wanted was the thrill of having your undivided attention.

Gojo needed and desired you more than anything else, and this only made his fixation worse. Without saying anything more, the young man left the room, leaving Shoko to ask all the relevant questions and provide the information later. He's going to make sure that you remember him forever.

It took hours for the two of you to be back together again. You were seated close to each other for the opening ceremony. The opening ceremony typically features the entrances of the head of state or other official of the host nation as well as the president of the International Olympic Committee. The national anthem and flag are then raised and played. Then the tournament started.

You have a strong passion for figure skating, and when you're on the ice, it feels remote. Nothing could distract you from your quest for excellence in each trick, flip, and turn. Everyone in the stadium is quiet, appreciating your stunning appearance and captivating performance. Your candid feelings convey a tale of bereavement.

You jump off the backward outside edge on one foot, using your toe pick to help you get airborne, then use your other leg to reach across your body and back to pick into the ice. Gojo is an enormous admirer of your performances and would do anything to spend time on the ice with you.

You were actually quite flexible, as required by the biellmann spin. You spin on one foot, stretching the other leg behind you and above your head to make the shape of a teardrop, and Gojo is staring at you in astonishment. You release your leg and step off the ice again. You can turn the odds in your favor with just your pure resolve.

You release everything forward, shift your entire weight on your takeoff left leg, raise your arms, and release your right leg back at the same moment of takeoff. At first, it looks like a typical axel leap, but in order to complete the trick, you have to make four and a half rotations in the air. When you land perfect, everyone in the stadium goes crazy. Gojo was aware of the announcers' adoration for your flawless quadruple axel.

Interviewers are waiting in line to chat with Japan's figure skating prodigy as soon as you step off the ice. Gojo heard all of the inquiries: "Wow, it was incredible! "How long have you been practicing your quadruple axel?" "How long have you been training?" and "Do you ever see yourself performing routines in pairs with?" You were brisk even off the rink, graciously and enthusiastically responding to every inquiry.

Gojo is the next to go, but not before he interacts with you. "Looks like you're going for the gold, but we all know who's really taking it home." Your smile quickly disappears and is replaced by a frown. "If you already know you're the winner why are you trying so hard to convince yourself that I'm not?" You grin again and walk past the gaunt man before he can respond, heading toward Shoko.

God, you made him so hard.

Despite what you previously stated, Gojo is without a doubt the greatest for Japan, and his mesmerizing methods are hard to ignore. Every now and then, Gojo stretches out his palm and takes a tiny step forward, sliding across the icy rink with effortless ease. Not long after he picks up speed, he throws his right leg over his head and balances on his left foot. He spread his arms, almost making a T or possibly a K. Gojo never fails to demonstrate to his own nation and the rest of the world that he was a showman in addition to a prodigy.

He swung his body in fluid motions, bending his knees. He was able to move down the rink more quickly and farther as soon as both of his skates were facing in the same direction and parallel to one another. Watch as the man launches himself and lands on the back outside edge of the opposing foot. You see him use his free leg to assist with the takeoff. Gojo starts off across the rink once more; he has the appearance of a swan on a quest. Despite his solemn expression, he manages to pique the audience's interest by molding his face to suit his intended message.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a tap from another skater. "Hi!"You're — correct? The most beautiful man you have ever seen is revealed when you turn around. "Yes I am and you are?" Your smile was enough to break any man's heart, and it certainly broke Gojo's. His eyes caught you talking to the low-level figure skater during his back bend. To get your attention, Gojo slowly lifts his body upward while making sure to circle close to you.

You paid no attention to anything, not even when the crowd chanted his name. He saw you gazing passionately at the man, touching him, and grinning during his performance. He'll make sure that everyone is aware of your connection. Interviewers swarm Gojo as he emerges from the ice, asking him questions about the tournament, his emotions, whether he predicted Japan would win, and what he loves best about the Olympics.

He took great pleasure in watching you, even though you were hostile toward you. He enjoys watching you on the ice and knows that all of these eyes will be able to see and appreciate your beauty and brilliance, even if that's not a suitable answer to the question. “I had fun watching my girlfriend accomplish a quadruple axel on the ice, going above and beyond the norm!” The interviewers are going crazy over the exclusive insider information that Japan's Olympic candidates are a couple! “I'm very proud of her!”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Could you two come on my show to give more information about your relationship and experience in the competitive skating world?”

“Do you plan on marrying her?”

Gojo has a broad smile, but it widens when he notices you approaching from the corner of his eye. He ensured that there would be enough disturbance to draw in people from a 50-mile radius. He quickly puts his arm around your waist to hold you close once you are arms length apart.

He undoubtedly knows that you are extremely conscious of your appearance and would never intentionally make a fool of yourself in front of thousands of people. "Hello my darling, don't you want to tell them about how our love blossomed?" Even though you're terrified, you swiftly avert the interviewers' attention to the man by saying that he always tells story better than you. He makes fun of you and tells a made-up tale of jealousy, hate, and love. Gojo lets the interviewer know that you two are deeply in love, plan to be married, and want to start a family.

He knows when you get uncomfortable in his arms and knows it's time to finish the interview and express gratitude for the interviewers' time. Curses fly from your mouths towards Gojo the moment you two are out of earshot. You attempt to escape his hold, but it's firm and powerful, and he won't let go until he proves that you are his.

Because he would be pressed for time, he had everything set up before the competition day. After his performance, he asked to have a car ready for him so he could take you to the Olympic village, to his room, and finally to his bed. You sound even more enraged now that you're practically yelling at him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why in the hell would you tell them that?”

"I just want you to realize how much I adore you, now hush and enjoy." Gojo hurries you into the back of the tinted Range Rover, entering on the left side. He signals the driver to shorten the route and closes the partition — his hand finds contact too high on your thigh and his look is exceedingly strained. "I'm not your enemy but you treat me like one, why?"

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his assertion, "You've been tormenting me since we were seven, and you think I have no reason to want you away from me?" When you look at him, his expression is one of perplexity. Torment? I used to put gifts in your locker, and from what I remember, you threw them out." Your face flushed from the accusation. "Well, I'd have kept them if you hadn't said anything about my physique. "Everyday, you said something demeaning which encouraged other people to say hurtful things. Now you all are in my shadow, I’m winning the gold ."

You turned to face Gojo and said this with the biggest smile on your face, but as soon as you saw the tear streaming down his hot cheeks, your smile fades. "What's wrong, you?" Even with a hint of worry in your voice, your countenance suggests dissatisfaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize, but I'd like another chance." In all honesty, Gojo doesn't give a damn about earning your favor. All he wants is what any man would want.

To win.

Gojo makes sure to be the ultimate gentleman as he ushers you out promptly as the car arrives at the village. When he offers his hand to help you out of the car and opens the compound door for you, he can see you're nervous and cautious because you pause. To be honest, you felt anxious at every turn, and when Gojo came up behind you, his arm clasped tightly around your waist. You didn't know why you two were at the compound without your coaches, or what he wanted, but you weren't enjoying it.

When he arrives at his room, he stops at the entrance and looks at you intently. "I set everything up for you because I want you to know how special you've been to me," he says as he opens the door. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla greets you, along with the sight of candles and petals scattered on the corridor floor. Gojo releases his hold on you as his hand travels to your lower back and softly presses you inside his room.

Although your instincts are going haywire, the environment appears in the opposite way. When you step fully into his room the corridor floor is only the tip of the iceberg. Gojo, rather, the person he hired to arrange the space, created a lavish pallet on the floor and surrounded it with a heart made of flowers. accompanied by a bouquet of flowers and a selection of finger appetizers. There are images of you from previous competitions, including ones where you lost, hanging on the walls with the term winner printed on them.

"Do you Iike it?" The pleasure on his face is palpable. In a normal situation, you would do anything to erase Gojo Satoru’s smile, but right now, it would be bittersweet. The amount of work he put in is both sweet and a little alarming, given that several of the images on display were taken when he was alone himself in the booth. You feel the silence begin to take on an unsettling note, so you turn to nod your head at the man, a small grin on your lips.

“Sit down, try the foods. I’ll be back with drinks!” Gojo disappears down the corridor and out the room door leaving you and your rapid heart alone. Thoughts were swirling in your head.

You could just leave.

What does all of this mean? I mean he did give you gifts when you were kids but you just chalked it up to him trying to buy you and throw you off your game.

Does he actually like you? Could it have been your announcement about you leaving?

You sit down on the pallet allowing your weak legs to rest and distract yourself with the white chocolate covered strawberries. Halfway through the patch and uncontrollable anxiety, Gojo comes in with a drink tray with two bottles of martell cognac l'or de jean and two glasses. “I see you enjoyed the strawberries, I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch” he places the tray on the pallet and sits extremely close to you.

You take a seat on the pallet, allowing your ailing legs to relax, and use the strawberries coated in white chocolate as a distraction. Gojo enters with a drink tray with two glasses and two bottles of Martell Cognac L'Or de Jean halfway through the patch and uncontrollably anxiousness. He lays the tray on the pallet and sits quite close to you, saying, "I see you enjoyed the strawberries. I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch." He picks up a piece of beef and dips half of it in the homemade ranch.

“Open” you look at the man as if he grew three head and laugh. You try to take the meat, saying, "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself," but Gojo pulls his hand back and gives you a stern look. Without a second thought you open your mouth to allow the man to feed you. Not only did you let him feed you once but the whole plate of beef along with the miso ranch.

Surprisingly, the beef is really soft, and when mixed with the miso ranch, it is exquisite. Gojo fed you the trend of white meal options, asking you what you thought of whatever he served you next and ensuring you finished at least half. You attribute it to his big ego, and he is still making whatever this is about himself, albeit in a minor way.

You begin to feel lighter, and your discussion with him has become comfortable, flirtatious even. Only when he places his hand on your thigh does your body react.

Your face is now hot, your mind is muddled, and his hand rubbing your thighs makes you want him to move his hand up higher under your skirt. You clear your throat and remind yourself who you’re with. "So, why did you actually do this? I didn't expect Gojo Satoru to be romantic” he hasn't taken his gaze away from you, but appears to be getting closer.

“Because you’re leaving and I know I won’t be able to stop you but I want to give you something to think about while you’re 17 thousands miles away.” It's the first time you've truly appreciated his appearance; he has subtle muscular physique. His lips appear smooth and plump, while his jawline is sharp. And his eyes? Women who testified about losing themselves in his gaze weren’t lying.

As your stare deepens, Gojo notices and seizes the opportunity to slide his hand up your leg and under your skirt. You pretend not to notice the precarious situation you've placed yourself in. Truthfully, all you want is for him to be beneath your skirt, to slide your panties to the side, and finger fuck you. Despite your increased heart rate and anxiety you don't stop him.

"Strip for me, princess," and your body becomes frigid instantly, making you appear almost ashamed. His eyes narrow as he leans in to whisper to you how much he wants you, how amazing you are, how he put this whole thing up for you, and how he begs you not to waste this lovely night. “You’re the one who let me put your hand up your skirt, don’t you want it?” You started to stammer and your pussy's heartbeat is becoming unbearable, but are you going to let this man defile you after he has attempted to humiliate you and make you feel inferior?

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs at your apprehension He starts to stand up, but your hand catches his arm and stops him instantly. "No, I think I want—" Before you can even finish speaking, Gojo covers you with his lips and hands. His thin fingers are hurrying through your clothing, admiring every inch of your body and snapping a mental image of your exposed breasts and pussy. His touch is light but frenzied and every kiss feels like it’s scorching your skin leaving an imprint on you.

Your body reacts beautifully to him which makes him hungry for you. Gojo is above you, staring down at you as you lie flat beneath him. Your gaze is locked on him, as though you're trying to assert your power and take charge of the circumstance in an effort to look less desperate and eager. He smiles and ask how much do you want it— with a cunning look on your face, you glare at him and repeat his question. The young man chuckles at you and pushes your legs apart by swiping his palm behind them.

Once your legs are spread, Gojo places his face close to your pussy, basking in its magnificence. "Is all of this for me?" He says before swiping his tongue through your slit. Your legs snap without warning, but his grip keeps you immobile. He revels in your flavor, the way your body heats up, and the way you try to hide your pleasure in your . This time, he didn't want to come up for air; he wanted to be buried in your wetness and hypnotized by your moans.

Your skin feels as like it is being scorched by every kiss and lick to your clit and hole. Gojo commands you to hold your legs up so he can stick two fingers into your dripping hole and curls them to give you the most ecstasy possible. He may be selfish, but he's definitely not when it comes to pleasure. You abandon your position to position your legs on his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his snow-white hair.

"Gojo~ I need- my head..I can't," you say as your legs start to tremble and your eyesight becomes white from the pleasure that has been building up. “You can take it princess, just hold on a little longer for me” he knows that he won’t stop until you've created a mess; you begin to urge the young man to stop so you can regain your breath, but he doesn't hear you at all. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and hums at the sight.

You have a face of pure bliss, your eyes are closed and your hair is starting to stick to your sweat covered body. Gojo has an unrelenting pace — you could do nothing but focus on releasing yourself on his blessed fingers. All he can hear after coming up is your ragged breathing which forms a smile on his face. “I would ask you how everything was but I can see you thoroughly enjoyed yourself”

“You fuck like a virgin who just got some for the first time.” Gojo smile is immediately wiped off his face. You sit up on your elbows but he pushes you back down and pulls out his angry throbbing member. “A virgin huh? Let me lose my virginity with you then” without warning he slides himself through your gummy walls. Now hovering over you, Gojo uses his hands to push one leg up and bend the other to your side. His face is beet red and you can tell he’s enjoying himself more than you are right now.

You want to fuck him, you can’t deny how he has you begging for him to move, yet everything feels forced in your mind. As your face starts to well up with tears, he notices and bends in to get near to your ear. "Aw, don't cry, I'll make it all better, okay?" you nod your head, and he replies "good girl.”

As much as he loves to tease you, he can no longer control himself. Although he intentionally uses deep, languid strokes, the louder your moans the quicker he thrusts into you. He's been saying in your ear all along how gorgeous, wet, and tight you are. How ever since he met you, he's been dreaming of this and wants to be the one man who can win your approval.

You become this lustful shell of yourself that just wants him to consume you, and everything begins to feel like an out-of-body experience. You cry out in desperation for him to go deeper and use you till he is unable to. When he lets go of your legs, you encircle them around his torso while wrapping your arms around his neck forcing his face into your neck.

Your mind is foggy and all you can think about is using your legs to drive him inside of you and lock him in place as Gojo takes advantage of this opportunity to leave as many markings on your neck as possible, intensifying the pleasure you're experiencing.

The young man is breathless at your actions and he makes a mocking tone saying you’re a desperate slut aren’t you? how about I give you something to remember me by”. He lifts his body up untangling your legs from his torso placing both of his palms behind your knees to extend them to the sides of your head, you whine at the lack of contact but he calms your hunger by pounding into you. Even if the action took you by surprise you start to moan and praise the man for fucking you so well.

The young man is breathless at your actions and remarks in a mocking manner, "You're a desperate slut, aren't you?" What if I gave you something to carry me with you forever? You whine at the absence of contact as he lifts his body up and separates your legs from his torso, extending both of his palms behind your knees and push them to the sides of your head. Gojo slams into you stifling your hunger. Even if the action took you by surprise, you start to moan and praise him for fucking you so well.

His climax happens quickly when you mutter, "I-I may just stay for you," in a breathless manner. He closes his eyes in an effort to continue for as long as possible considering he feels his balls getting tight. He desires to relish each instant spent within you, the way your walls enclose him, the firmness with which your hands clasp his arms, and the volume with which you utter his name. Gojo leans back toward you abruptly, giving you a passionate kiss and cums inside of you. Though you're mentally panicking out about the lack of protection, you quickly forget about it as he releases your hold on your limbs and turns you onto your tummy, telling you to lift your ass.

"That fat ass has to get love too, princess, don't be shy." Your embarrassment is the only reason for the heat that is starting to appear on your face. He scoops you up by your hips and slams into you, rolling his eyes at your hesitancy. He is aware of your sensitivity, but you wouldn't be aware of Gojo's struggle to endure the pain in order to prolong this time. Your ass jiggling with each thrust has him spellbound, and as he slides out of you to slam into you again, his dick is drenched.

At this moment, your pussy is hurting and you're crying, but the heatbeat is becoming worse. Then it dawns on you that he is the only one who can stop the excruciating feeling underneath. Your mind is immediately repulsed by the idea. Gojo Saturo, of all people, fucking you senselessly is shameful, but the young man wipes that notion away as soon as it occurs by grabbing your hair with one hand and playing with your clit with the other around your waist.

You were too high and fucked out to realize that Gojo had taken the remote and turned on the television before seizing you. You were so overstimulated that your legs were trembling, and your tears were blurring your vision. "Gojo, please, I just can't handle it any longer." The teleprompters are now announcing the male single winners, “Just let them announce the winners pretty, if you win I’ll give you a present okay?”

Your body became heavy and you can feel your thighs become wet from your climax and hear his win being announced. All he could hear from you now is sobs begging him to give you a second, this is what he wants, for you to break down on his dick. It goes without saying that Gojo takes home the gold, he saw the camera move to his coach; who was very upset over his absence and had a stone-cold expression on his face.

He didn’t want his movements to be soured by the display and leans his head back in bliss. He’s beyond sensitive and doesn’t want you to see the tears coming out of his eyes to. Not only did he win literally but he’s achieving his life long goal of ruining you. His next words are winded, “make sure you come back in nine months for your next present princess.”

Leaning his head back in delight, he didn't want the event to ruin his moves. His sensitivity is immense, and he would prefer that you not see the tears welling up in his eyes. Not only has he literally won, his lifelong ambition to ruin you has been achieved. He continues, "Make sure you come back in nine months for your next present, princess," in a taunting manner.

You continue to sob as Gojo bullies your overworked cunt, cumming again coating your tantalizing walls in white. He lets you go and once you hit the pallet your world goes black. Waking up you notice the space around you is pitch black, you attempt to get up and survey the surroundings but your body is incredibly sore.

You sob on and on as Gojo abuses your overworked cunt and once more covers your alluring walls in white. After he lets you go, you strike the pallet, and everything goes dark. When you wake up, you discover that the space is pitch black. You want to stand up and take in your surroundings, but your body hurts so much. From your head to in between your legs, you look and feel around for a light or at least your phone.

You jump back and scream as soon as you feel warmth and skin when you reach to your left. Your head is throbbing and you try to recollect the last few hours, but when you discover you can't, it just makes you feel more anxious. You stand up despite the fact that your legs are weak and sprint to the closest corner to make yourself appear smaller. Your final recollection is leaving the ice and talking with the interviewers. Besides that, you don’t know where you are, why you’re naked and who that is laying next to you.

“Why are you yelling princess, it’s late.”

Princess? When you hear the voice, your blood starts to boil, and you start to remember what transpired. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! GOJO SATORU YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED," the man gets out of the duvet and moves across the room to turn on the light. He can't stop laughing when he sees you in the corner. "Princess, get up. I got you something."

The man walks to the nearest dresser, throws you in the shorts and shirt, and walks to the bathroom, seemingly unaffected by your outcry. It's amazing how calm someone can be when he's clearly done you some harm. But you get dressed immediately, grab your stuff from his room, and run out of there. "You sick bastard, I hope you know that I'm going to the authorities." A flurry of flashes from microphones and cameras jammed against your face greets you as soon as you open the door.

Questions about why you were in Gojo's room, whether you were actually unwell or if you skipped the rest of the competition to spend time with him, and why you were leaving in his clothing suddenly burst out of the seemingly small gathering. The sensation of his arms enveloping you, his naked chest resting on your back, and his murmur in your ear, "Gold winning Olympian misses her win to share intimate time with her new boyfriend," further intensifies your feelings of overwhelm. “I believe that is a catchy headline.”

Gojo got what he wanted, attaching you to him forever, hopefully in more ways than one.

[heesdreamer]

off the ice

PAIRING ➩ sunghoon x reader

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

GENRE ➩ rivals to lovers enemies to lovers

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

WC ➩ 17.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looking forward to it princess.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, we’re winning.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were questioning now if you’d ever seen him look so casual. Sure, he was known to be friendly and he obviously was no stranger to jokes and teasing but if you saw him here any other time, you’d think he was just a regular student without a care.

This left a weird pit in your stomach considering the fact he wasn’t a regular student and neither were you, and acting like one wouldn’t do you any good when it came to your future or this competition.

Still your thoughts fizzled out when the older waitress wandered over to your table, pocketing her order book with familiarity as she looked at the boy sat across from you.

“Sunghoon, it’s been too long sweetie.” She was smiling brightly down at him and he was glancing at you with a half smirk, you almost sensed bashfulness in his expression. “Is this your girlfriend?”

It took you a second to realize she was referring to you, her warm motherly gaze falling to your side and cocking her head in anticipation for a response. Your mouth parted in surprise as you fumbled for an answer.

“She’s a friend.” Sunghoon rushed out before you could, awkwardly avoiding your gaze picking at the old chipped vinyl on the table. You furrowed your eyebrows at the use of the word. Was he just avoiding more questions or did he actually consider you two to be friends?

The waitress looked between the two of you with a quirked eyebrow and you felt slight annoyance at the teasing glint in her eyes, like she knew something you didn’t. You opted for staring at the table infront of you, watching Sunghoon’s anxious habit. She muttered something about getting his usual and then she was off back into the kitchen.

Sunghoon cleared his throat and you looked up at him from behind your hair. He was watching you, still with an air of awkwardness, and you once again noted how different he looked in this setting.

“Why are we here?” You automatically felt bad at the harshness in your tone and if it was anybody else you’d apologize or take it back. But you could tell that he understood you were frustrated and tired from practice and antsy about wasting time.

“Coach said we don’t have any chemistry.” He explained and you gave him a look that made him chuckle under his breath. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know, I thought maybe we should try to have an actual conversation.”

“We have conversations.” You butt in, shaking your head like it was an obvious statement. You’d known the boy for almost your entire life, even if you were reluctant to admit it, you’d spoken to him more than most people you know.

“When’s my birthday.” His voice penetrated your line of thought and you looked back up at him, slightly shrinking at the question. “Do I have any siblings? Matter of fact, have you ever even seen me outside of the center?”

You were glaring at him as he spoke, although you couldn’t deny what he was saying. You wracked your brain for any counter argument, grasping at straws. “Three years ago I saw you at a 7/11.”

“Woah.” He raised an eyebrow at this and smiled down at you, looking slightly surprised when you offered a small smile back. “What was I doing?”

“Buying snacks.” You gave him a disapproving stare. You weren’t lying about this, much to your surprise you had caught him a few winters ago with two handfuls of restricted snacks and a jumbo soda balanced in his arm.

“And you didn’t rat me out?” He was definitely teasing but you still thought you heard a bit of surprise and truth in his words, like he genuinely expected you to run and tell on him. “Wait, why were you at 7/11?”

For a moment you considered lying, telling him you were getting pain pills or a protein bar but this new excited look on his face was silently urging you to lean into the openness of the conversation.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was buying snacks.” You leaned back in the booth and crossed your arms. A loud laugh pushed past his lips and your eyes widened slightly at the sound, more used to chuckles or scoffs.

His tired gaze softened on you slightly at your surprised expression but before he could speak or continue the conversation, a second waitress was returning with your food (two orders of Sunghoon’s ‘usual’).

You were staring down at the plate with a curious expression, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of food placed in front of you. You could feel his stare on you as you studied it and you lifted an eyebrow without looking up at him. “How do you practice after eating all this?”

He snorted another laugh and unraveled his silverware, leaning forward again to cut up your pancakes. You lifted your gaze to watch him as he did this, sleeves rolled up on his arms and eyes concentrated on his task. After finishing with the pancakes, and taking half for himself, he answered your question vaguely.

“Intensely.” His reply caused you to frown slightly and you were grateful for his habit of avoiding eye contact so he didn’t see the pity in your gaze.

It was no secret to anyone, and especially to you, that your sport was a tough one with intense practice and overall lifestyle. You’d spent more time than you’d admit worrying about the health of other kids you trained with and that included Sunghoon, who always seemed to be working ten times as hard as everybody else.

“How about once a week?”

“What?” He looked confused at your words and paused mid bite of his scrambled eggs, eyeing you with a question in his gaze.

“Once a week we eat here.” You explained, awkwardly toying with a piece of bacon in front of you. “Like… together.”

His silence was driving you crazy and you felt your heart rate increasing with each second that he didn’t respond to you, even with a rejection laugh or an awkward denial at your attempt to get closer. You reminded yourself that this was for the sake of winning and spared him a glance. He was watching you with a familiar smirk and you sighed softly.

“I knew you liked me princess.”

——

A few days had passed since the start of your new weekly ritual with Sunghoon, days full of practice and studying the demo video the two of you had scrapped together the week prior. You were watching it now and even though it was messy and unpolished, you felt semi proud at the way the two of you looked on the ice together.

Picturing it with more practice, the right facial expression and some competition level costumes and you were starting to understand why this was something people were looking forward to. And they definitely were.

Proven by the way a newspaper was smacked onto the ice infront of you, causing you to jump slightly before lowering the iPad and glancing at it to see a poorly edited photo of you and Sunghoon on the cover. You glared down at the paper and the latter mentioned laughed from above you.

“We’re the talk of the town.” You could hear the smile on his face and you pushed the paper away from you.

“I’m pretty sure we have actual photos together.” You mumbled. “Why did they edit it like that?”

You looked up in time to see him shrug and to also take in his attire. He was wearing a form fighting black turtleneck T-shirt that was tucked into his usual sport pants. Your gaze went down to his white gloves and he took notice of your stare, wiggling his fingers mockingly.

“Go change.” You frowned, standing up to reveal your similar outfit, only your shirt was white and your gloves were black, perfectly matching his in opposite colors.

He stared down at you with an annoyed expression and for a second you considered pushing him backwards on his skates, not liking that the toe of yours were nearly touching his. You decided against it at the thought he might trip and fall.

“Less talking, more practice.” You looked over at the new voice to see your coach, her hair messy from the snow outside as she unraveled her red scarf from around her neck. “Oh don’t you two look cute.“

You groaned at her comment referring to your matching outfits, turning and skating away from Sunghoon and over to where she was sitting along the sidelines. You vaguely heard the sound of his skates following behind you and you noted his lack of comment at her teasing remark.

“Did you see this?” You turned the paper towards her direction and she looked up in question, eyes brightening when she caught sight of what you were holding.

“Oh it’s wonderful.” She chirped out and you glanced back at Sunghoon, who mirrored your look of confusion. “It’s even better than I expected.”

“So you knew about it?” Sunghoon voice was closer than you expected it to be and you almost turned around and shoved him away before remembering your coach’s frantic need for you two to cooperate, and your deal made the other night. Still you weren’t quite used to his casual presence yet.

“Knew about it? I asked for it.” She explained and you gave her an incredulous look, shifting your eyes to the photo and bold headline.

Directly above the edited photo of the both of you, adorning crowns and a few photoshopped hearts between you was the large capital words, ‘ICE ROYALTY! ROMANCE ON ICE… AND OFF?’

You let a few beats pass as you stared at the cover, letting her get the read on your feelings towards the situation. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Sunghoon was clearing his throat behind you and you were grateful that he was seemingly going to add his two cents in, in agreement against the article. “I mean… it gets people curious.”

Your mouth parted and you spun around to face him, this time when your skates bumped into eachother you did push him slightly backwards. He seemed to be expecting it and glided a few inches away from you easily, his relaxed expression only adding to your annoyance.

“In what world do we need rumors and idiocy to win this?” You spat at him and his lip turned down for just a second before his eyebrows hardened. “We should be practicing not standing here talking about stupid fake headlines.”

“Oh but you seem pretty content storming out of practice whenever you get a little bit frustrated.” He spat back at you and you faltered for just a second, not expecting such anger directed back towards you. Overwhelmed, your mind shot straight to defense.

“Maybe because you’re impossible to be around.” You hissed towards him, fist clenched at your side. You both fell quiet and you shut your eyes for a second, willing him to say something back so your impulsive words weren’t left hanging in the cold air between you.

“That’s enough.” Your coach’s voice sounded tired but firm and you kept your eyes shut, regret seeping into your skin. You didn’t want to see his expression, regardless if it was hatred or hurt. “No practice for a few days, go home early.”

——

Not being on the ice was making your skin itch and your head feel like it was floating ten feet away from your body on a thin rope. You were thankful for the snow falling outside, accompanying you on cold walks and slightly keeping you grounded. It wasn’t often you had a break from practice and maybe there was times where this was all you wanted, but something felt heavy and wrong about the way things had occurred.

You felt even worse about what you had said to Sunghoon because you had meant it. Maybe not in the way he took, as a personal hit at his character, but definitely in the way that your competitive and insecure nature had crafted up your whole life.

It was almost impossible to be calm and in the right headset with somebody who seemed to be relaxed and carefree despite living the same life as you, you who could barely get through the day without multiple stress driven outburst.

Especially now, standing outside the diner, you realized how much better of a person he was than you. If he had said those words to you, you wouldn’t have shown up tonight. Maybe you would have even begged for a new partner or dramatically switched training halls.

But as you stood wrapped tightly in a thick jacket and a scarf, shaking from the cold and dark walk over here, you stared at the side of his face through the foggy window and took a deep guilty breath.

The entrance bell ringing as you pushed open the frosty door seemed louder than normal and so did the silence that screamed between the two of you as you sat down across from him. He didn’t look at you as you approached and for a moment you wondered if he only came to see if you would.

Then the waitress was circling around and placing a hot drink in front of you, offering you a small smile and a head nod. You managed a confused smile back at her but raised an eyebrow at the drink you didn’t order.

“It’s hot chocolate.” Sunghoon spoke and your eyes widened, shooting up towards him. He was watching you with a careful expression. “It’s cold and you don’t drink coffee.”

You wondered how he knew that about you, when he had observed you enough to have a fact that small stored away. You didn’t voice your confusion, giving him a small nod and taking off your gloves so you could wrap your cold hands around the warm mug.

“I can pull myself out of the competition.” You stopped mid sip as he started to speak, avoiding eye contact with you and fiddling with this thread of his fingerless mittens. “I guess I didn’t realize how hard of a time you were having.”

“I’m not.” You rushed out, immediately flushing at the loud volume of your voice. He looked shocked at your words, watching as you set down the mug carefully and put your elbows on the table. “I’m not having a hard time… well not because of you atleast. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and you were curious what he was thinking about, not for the first time you found yourself wishing he was not so nice, then maybe he’d have a burst of anger and lay everything on you. You wanted him to call you spoiled or rude, anything other than that soft look he was giving you.

“I’ve always had a hard time.” You don’t know where it came from, the sudden personal statement causing him to tilt his head in the terrible, genuinely curious way that he did. You felt an overwhelming sense that if you didn’t tell him something about you right now, that would be it.

“With me?” His eyebrow cocked and yours furrowed.

“No… or yes.” His lip quirked downwards and you hurried to finish your sentence before a repeat of the other day occurred. “Not because of you but because of me. Because I’m jealous of you and how good you are at everything.”

He seemed to take this in for a second before a scoff escaped his lips, the smile on his face letting you know it was semi lighthearted.

“You’re jealous of me?” His shock was genuine and he leaned back in the booth and sucked a breath in through his teeth. The loud hissing sound made you wince. “And all this time I’ve thought the same about you.”

“Oh whatever.” You mumbled, both not believing what he was saying and not feeling comfortable at the unfamiliarity of the back and forth compliment.

“I mean it.“ Something in the way Sunghoon said it made you want to believe him. “You’re like a natural out there. Living up to your title, if I do say so myself.”

“It doesn’t feel natural, and don’t forget who got the title first.” You felt a bit childish to be refusing his attempt at being civil, nice even, but that nasty insecure part of you wouldn’t allow you to take any compliments from him.

“Well I was excited to be paired with you.” He raised his shoulders in a shrug and you watched him carefully from under your eyelashes. He smiled at you awkwardly when you didn’t immediately respond and your lip jutted out into a pout.

“I’m sorry Sunghoon.” The words felt weighted and empty as you forced them out but you truly meant what you were saying and you hoped he could see that beneath your initial tone. He looked slightly taken back at the use of his first name.

Luckily, he nodded at you and leaned forward on his elbows again, pushing your mug back towards you with two steady fingers. You watched his hand as they came closer to your side of the table, feeling a bit embarrassed when the mug stopped infront of you, insinuating he wanted you to finish the warm liquid.

After a beat you glanced up at him and immediately dropped your gaze back down to the steamy cup at the smirk on his face, his fingers lingering for just a moment before retracting back to under the booth.

“Finish, we have work to do.”

——

“Exactly! That’s exactly it right there.” Sunghoon’s excited words barely registered to you over the sound of your loud panting.

You were leaned over, elbows on your knees and eyes closed shut in an attempt to catch your breath. You’d been going at it relentlessly the last few days, nearly perfecting the basic moves but still needing to add the flare the judges would be looking for.

Sunghoon and you had been getting along for the most part, small spurts of bickering and burst of frustration due to complicated moves but nobody has stormed out or lost any fingers, so it was a win in your book.

“Again.” He was chiming from a few feet away and you glared up at him from behind your sweaty bangs causing him to laugh before assuming his position on the floor.

You were slowly becoming used to it now, the close proximity, the faux romance on your expressions. You were a professional and that’s all this truly was, work. But you were feeling slightly childish about the way you couldn’t get use to his hands on you.

Telling yourself it was just awkwardness, maybe even lingering animosity you were holding that made your stomach turn every time his big hand wrapped it’s way around some part of you, you laid on the ice a few feet away from him.

You routinely rolled over top of him, movements robotic as you avoided looking down at him and he tensed slightly.

When it was his turn to do the same, he paused above you and you frowned, waiting for him to move off of you so you could ease into the next portion.

Instead he stayed in place, caging you in as he balanced himself on his forearms. For a second you thought about the core strength it’d require to hold a plank on ice before shaking your head and internally scolding yourself.

“You’re distracted.” He was saying above you and you felt his breath on your cheek, strongly opposing the cold ice your other one was pressed against. His voice was low and telling, not a question.

“No I’m not.” You scoffed, or atleast the best you could considering if you took a deep inhale your chest would press against his. “Maybe you’re distracted.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you looked at him, still refusing to turn your head incase your noses touched. He was looking down at you intensely however and your stomach flipped again.

“I am.” His voice was firm but you looked at him just in time to see his eyes awkwardly shoot around your face, hesitation in his gaze.

You weren’t fully sure what he was implying and you definitely weren’t going to reply without him outright saying that it was you he was distracted by, the presumed humiliation making you furrow your eyebrows.

The thought crossed your mind that he was making fun of you, that he had someone noticed how hard it was for you to focus around him and was trying to bait a confession out of you.

You turned your head finally, not flinching at the way his nose bumped against yours or the sharp inhale he took at the sudden contact. You held his gaze for just a few seconds before starting to speak.

“Get off me Park.”

He faltered for a second like he wasn’t expecting that sort of response, body completely locking above yours before quickly rolling over onto his back next to you and awkwardly sitting up.

“I’m sorry.” He rushed out and you finally took a big breath before also sitting up and avoiding looking at him. He watched as you stood completely and you felt his eyes on you. “I don’t know why I said that Y/N.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You lied smoothly, keeping your voice steady and shrugging softly as you wiped off the ice shavings that was stuck on your leggings. He was still watching you and you heard him sigh in embarrassment.

“From the start?” He eventually muttered and you glanced over at him, shaking your head.

“I have to head out actually.” You tried to keep your tone casual but he looked pained, obviously not falling for your excuse and realizing you were leaving because of what he said. “First thing tomorrow?”

He didn’t say anything but you knew he had heard you and started to skate off the ice, face flushing with awkwardness as you finally took a breath and accessed what had just happened.

If you weren’t mistaken and he wasn’t pulling some sick joke on you, which judging by his mortified reaction you highly doubted that, Park Sunghoon had just attempted to make a pass at you.

Park Sunghoon who, for the better part of your life, had done nothing but drive you absolutely crazy with anger and jealousy. The same boy who thought it was funny to tie your laces together and watch videos of your failed jumps on the waiting rooms big screen.

You were absolutely sickened by the idea of it and even worse, the fact that the red painting your cheeks was not because of anger.

Storming out from the hall into the snowy night, your stomach was twisting again with what you now fully understood was not nauseation.

It was the stone cold realization that you liked Park Sunghoon.

—-

You hadn’t exaggerated on your call for early practice the next day, entering the hall before the sun had even risen yet.

It didn’t help you’d spend the entire night tossing and turning and screaming into your pillow as you replayed the scenario in your head over and over, analyzing every awkward second of silence or quirk of his eyebrows.

You’d come to the conclusion, at some point during your fourth hour of restlessness, that Sunghoon hadn’t been joking and he was absolutely attempting to flirt with you or at least was testing the waters.

This realization was nothing short of crippling and you almost considered not coming in today, making faking a cough or a sore throat. But the clock was ticking on your time to practice before the competition and with this added distraction, you needed all the time you could get.

So it was driving you a bit insane as the second hour passed and Sunghoon still hadn’t arrived to practice. You hadn’t entered the rink yet, anxiously sitting in the locker room with your skates half tied as you rocked your knees back and forth.

You imagined he would be embarrassed, maybe he hadn’t even thought before he spoke and it came across wrong, but for him to not show up at all was something you couldn’t accept.

Before another minute of waiting could pass you were pulling your phone out and doing something you’ve, somehow, never done before and texting him.

y/n : After all this and you aren’t going to show up? I don’t know about you but this is really important to me and I’m sick of the childishness.

You sent the message before you considered how harsh it was, leaning forward and groaning as your forehead hit your knee. Your phone was clutched to your chest as you waited for the buzz to signal he responded.

It never came and you felt your heart sink to your stomach, smushing its way past the irritation and anger you’d been accumulating the past hour.

You flung your skates off with a yell, wincing internally at the loud echoed bang of them hitting the metal seats that rang throughout the room. Standing swiftly, you stuffed them into your locker and slammed it shut before turning on your heel and going to leave.

In your fury driven urgency to get outside you didn’t peer around the corner before rounding it, resulting in you falling back against the floor as you smacked roughly into somebody approaching at the same time.

You let out another loud groan as you hit the floor, head striking the ground that was luckily covered in rubber mats designed for your skates blades. Still, a wave of pain washed over you at the force in which you fell.

“Fuck.” To make matters worse, you immediately registered as he spoke that it was Sunghoon you’d smacked into. He was leaning down to check you, a hand jutted out in an attempt to help you up. “I’m so sorry I’m late, something came up and-“

“I don’t care.” You cut him off in a snap causing his face to drop in guilt. You ignored his outstretched hand and pushed yourself to a standing position. “I’m leaving.”

“Y/N, I really am telling the truth.” He rushed out, eyes big and desperate. You glared at him and tried to move down the exit hall again, behind stopped by his large frame as he stepped sideways in your way.

“Whatever it is I can’t imagine it could be more important than practice.” You felt the irony in your words as you spoke them, wanting to wince at how similar you sounded to your mother but you were acting on anger.

He seemed to realize this now, deflating with a sigh and staring down at you with his sharp eyebrows pulled to the center of his forehead.

“Let me show you.”

——

You weren’t exactly sure how he had managed to get you here considering how hell bent you’d been on avoiding him or strictly practicing, nothing in between.

But somehow, half an hour later, and you were sat frowning in his passenger seat. Your arms were crossed in irritation and you were stiff and tight in the seat, resisting the urge to look around and analyze his car.

Truthfully you hadn’t even realized he knew how to drive, although it suddenly made sense considering you’d never seen a parent of his at the rink and he always was there at odd hours of the night without the cold bitten cheeks you typically had.

Sunghoon had a strong point when he said you didn’t know anything about each other, you knew it was truthful when he had said it but it was weighing on you now as you looked over at him as he drove.

He looked nervous, shoulders higher and more tense than they usually were but he was sat comfortably in his seat, only one hand on the steering wheel like he’d been driving for a long time. You wondered when he had learned, who had taught him or if maybe he’d taught himself.

You’d never thought of Sunghoon as lonely. He was always bouncing around competitions with a bright smile, chatting with judges and opponents and even with your own mother a few times.

You remember being 15, face red and puffy from the tears you’d shed after she’d given you a strict scolding in the bathroom after a low scale contest. He had approached afterwards, ready to throw some quick jabs and comments your way before seeing the look on your face.

Instead he had struck a conversation with her, making funny faces at you over her turned shoulder as she spoke in her familiar harsh tone. You remember laughing into your glove and then watching him as he walked away, trying to catch sight of his mom.

He seemed to know how to handle strict parents so you were curious if he was raised similarly, but you were just left confused as he left the rink by himself.

“See that right there,” Your mother had spoken in a low voice, leaning towards you on the bench. “Some parents don’t even show up to these things, you should be more grateful.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about that now as you pulled into a parking lot, blue hour was settling in now as the afternoon bled on. The drive was just over an hour but it was getting darker sooner in the day as you went deeper into the winter.

He sucked in a breath and you felt him look over at you like he was waiting for you to say something about where you were. You didn’t but you turned your head to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow for an explanation.

It looked like he was considering giving you one for a second and then he changed his mind, taking his keys and getting out of the car. You watched him circle around to your side, opening your door for you and waiting for you to step out.

You silently followed him into the building, passing by a reception desk with a large man who gave Sunghoon a smile and a nod. You stared at his comfortable shoulders as he walked through the winding hallways with ease, clearly familiar with them.

The building resembled a hospital, dull colors and the buzzing of LED lights making your head spin slightly but the similarities between the people in the rooms you were passing told you what it truly was.

Sunghoon stopped infront of a room with a closed door and looked over at you, again like he was expecting you to speak. You didn’t and he eventually sighed and turned to open the door after a beat.

“Sunghoon? Is that you?” You stayed by the door, letting it close softly behind you, as he walked into the room and pulled back a privacy curtain that was hanging from a rod on the ceiling. You froze in place at the sight of the older woman in the bed, machines hooked around her with dull beeps and chimes.

“Yeah Nana.” His voice was lower than you’d heard it before and your eyes went to him as he softly lowered himself to sit on her bed. He glanced at you and waved a hand, signaling for you to come closer.

For a second you wanted to shake your head, to back track out of the room and wait for him down the hall. You didn’t understand why he would take you here, why he would show you this part of his life or what this meant.

But you let your feet fall forward and stepped into her view, breath catching when he outstretched a hand to grab your wrist and pull you closer at a faster pace. The feeling of his skin against yours combined with her questioning gaze made your face flush.

“Oh.” Her mouth parted in shock and you bowed your head slightly with a smile in greeting, not fully trusting yourself to speak. “You must be Y/N.”

Your eyes widened and you looked towards Sunghoon who had a similar expression, hanging his head so he didn’t have to meet your eye.

“You’ve heard about me?” You spoke softly, a louder volume feeling intrusive in the quiet room. The lights were dimmed low and the curtains were drawn giving the space a warm calm atmosphere.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She was smiling at you and reaching out a shaky hand for you to take. You went to lift your left hand and felt the weight of Sunghoon’s on your wrist still, faltering and looking at him.

He looked embarrassed and confused, like he hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto you. He went to remove his grip but you twisted your hand and pulled his into yours, squeezing it tightly. You gave her your free hand instead.

It was a bit jarring to you and out of your element and you felt a bit of panic building in your throat. Being here was strange and Sunghoon being beside you was every stranger.

The weirdest part of all was the absolute care and adoration on this woman’s face, a strange you’d never seen before holding your hand with such delicacy. You felt yourself tear up slightly thinking how nice it must’ve been to grow up with such a person in your life.

You glanced at Sunghoon at this thought, you were still standing beside the bed holding both their hands while he sat and he was already looking at you. He seemed slightly taken back by your glossy eyes but he smiled at you warmly like he understood the reasoning.

And you were realizing now that he did.

It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to you that he was lonely but it was definitely the first time you really processed it. Maybe it was this new found care you had for him, this pull at your heart when you thought back to the boy with nobody to see his competition performances.

“Why are you back here sweetheart.” Sunghoon’s grandmas soft voice was speaking again and you glanced over at her, avoiding his eye contact when you felt his thumb rub the back of your hand.

You suddenly realized this was why he was late, obviously held up in a visit or maybe a medical emergency. Guilt hit you as you remembered your harsh tone and processed the fact he had driven the hour to practice and then turned around and brought you back here.

“I thought it was probably time the two of you met.” He lied naturally, squeezing your hand as if he was signaling for you to go along with it. You didn’t say anything, too busy wondering what all she knew about you, how long had you been a subject of conversation between the two.

You can’t imagine all the conversations were pleasant but her eyes held absolutely no sign of disdain or malice.

“You two must be so busy.” The soft croak in her voice made your stomach hurt and she shakily squeezed your hand causing you to do the same to Sunghoon’s in a ripple effect. You realized she was looking at you for a response.

“It isn’t too bad.” You assured her, smiling softly and you faintly heard Sunghoon scoff from beside you. You glared quickly at him and he lifted his free hand in mock surrender.

“I know it’s tiring.” His grandma was continuing and you looked back over at her, her eyebrows turning inwards. Her expression was shockingly similar to his and you let a heavy silence fall between the three of you.

You were once again wondering what type of things they talked about, if she was looking pained at the thought of her grandsons tiring lifestyle or if he had mentioned something about you and your own strict regimen.

It didn’t feel like the time to ask questions and you especially didn’t think you had the right to curiosity.

You’d shown Sunghoon a lot of coldness in the past few days despite his multiple attempts to get closer, and through that all he still had brought you to such an intimate personal place.

“I won’t keep you long.” Sunghoon and his grandma had been having a low voiced conversation while you were deep in thought but she was louder now, catching your attention and giving you a gentle knowing look.

You squeezed her hand one final time as a goodbye, not fully trusting yourself or your voice. Sunghoon was standing then, shoulder bumping against yours and you were overwhelming aware of the fact he was still holding your hand.

You welcomed it, feeling cold and bitter when the door opened to reveal the harsh white of the nursing homes lights that sharply contrasted Mrs. Parks yellow tinted room.

Without thinking you were pulling his arm closer, so your left hand was wrapped in his and your right arm was holding his sleeve against your chest, practically hugging his arm as you walked.

If the sudden closeness shocked him he didn’t show it, not making a move to remove you even as you passed back through the lobby and out the front doors.

It was darkening now despite it barely being 5pm, the short light of winter days making you colder than you’d ever been. The irony of the princess of the ice saying that didn’t miss you.

He paused when you reached his car and you felt him look at you. He was obviously trying to get a gauge of what you wanted to do considering you were glued to his side. You let him go reluctantly and walked swiftly to the passenger side before pulling yourself up into the car.

He was sitting down by the time you pulled your seatbelt on, starting the engine but not making any move to drive or fully situate himself. You imagined he was waiting for you to say something again and this time you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“She’s nice.” You felt pathetic as you spoke the words, nice not beginning to describe the situation or how you felt but you fell short like always when it came to affection.

Luckily he seemed to know exactly what you meant, something he did a lot you were realizing. He seemed to know when you were truly mad versus just tired and frustrated, he knew your distaste for coffee and he knew how to make you laugh despite your moms scolding.

You watched him as he nodded and tried to contain a fond smile for his grandma, biting his lip softly and forming a small dimple on his cheek.

“Do you come here a lot?” You were talking again and this seemed to take him off guard for just a second before he was neutralizing his expression like he was worried he’d scare you off.

“Everyday.” He was humming and leaning his head back against the seat, turning it lazily to look over at you. Your eyes followed up his jaw to his eyes just in time to see him quirk an eyebrow. “If I can.”

“And you talk about me?”

He snorted a laugh at your bluntness and the suggestion behind your words, eyes squeezing shut in a chuckle. You found yourself almost entranced studying his features.

“Not all the time princess.” The familiar pet name caused a similar reaction to normal, blood surging and stomach turning. You tried to ignore the fact it wasn’t driven by anger like it typically was, something much heavier replacing it now.

“But sometimes?” You pressed forward and leaned your elbow onto the middle console as the leather creaked under the weight. The noise caused his eyes to snap open and look at you, realizing you were closer now as you leaned in his space.

He hummed again and his eyes tracked down your face, similarly to the way you were studying him. “Yeah, sometimes.”

You didn’t say anything, a bit lost for words now that he was looking at you. It had never passed by you that he was handsome, probably the most striking person you’d ever seen in your life but without the usual cloud of anger fogging your mind, he was especially alluring.

“What do you say?” You voice came out as a whisper, almost falling forward from how far you were leaning on your elbows. He wasn’t moving in his seat, watching you unconsciously come closer with tired eyes.

He shrugged and lifted an eyebrow, hand falling forward on the middle console as he let a finger unravel and skim across your forearm.

“What do you say Sunghoon.” You ignored the goosebumps that his touch caused, questioning him further. You almost didn’t care about his answer anymore, you just wanted to hear him talk again.

His gaze hardened at the use of his first name, shifting in his seat but not turning his body to face yours. He kept his head turned towards you however, letting your breath fan his face every time you took a shaky exhale.

“Nothing bad.” He was speaking in a low tone, not fully paying attention to the conversation anymore.

“I want to hear though.”

“I wanna kiss you.” He tensed for a second as the words found their way out of his mouth without him meaning for them to. His shoulders relaxed seeing the way your mouth parted in shock.

You felt like a cold tidal wave had hit you as he spoke, face heating up and then more so when his eyes fell towards your open mouth.

A large part of you instinctively wanted to shut him down, wanted to lean back in your seat and tell him to start the car and prepare for the awkward trip back to the training center.

The other part of you liked the way he looked in a darkening car and less shallowly, liked how he smiled at you when you held his grandmas hand despite you letting out your frustration on him only hours earlier.

“That’s what you and your nana talk about?” You smiled at him as you spoke, a teasing tilt in your voice. Your smile only widened when he let out a breathy laugh and pressed his forehead against yours.

“If I kiss you right now will it ruin everything.” He was whispering and you were suddenly aware of how silent it was in the car, wishing for a low buzzing radio to fill the gaps.

“It might.” You whispered back to him and you felt him raise his eyebrows against yours causing your lips to jut out in a pout.

You felt his fingers dancing along your forearm again and you felt the sudden urge to hold his hand again.

“After we win the competition I’ll kiss you.” He sounded slightly pained in his words but you heard that familiar competitive fire that was typically directed towards you.

“Or you could do it now.” You felt slightly pathetic at the whine in your voice and he made it even worse by smiling at the sound of it.

“If I do it now we might not make it home.” He had a slight groan to his voice and your stomach flipped again.

You hastily shifted your arm off the middle console to fumble around for his hand, opting for wrapping your grip around his wrist again. He glanced down at it for a second before looking back up at you.

Slightly embarrassed, you felt your cheeks heating up at your actions but the warmth of his smooth skin was addicting now that you’d actually felt it outside of practice with skin tight clothes. Paired with his suggestive words and you were a goner when it came to common sense.

“How good is your self restraint?” You eventually opted for another teasing comment, not quite sure you were charming enough to directly respond to his comment without embarrassing yourself.

“When it comes to you?” His eyes flashed with something and you briefly wondered how long he’d been thinking about this or if it was as recent of a development as it was for you. “Terrible.”

“I want to… kiss you too.” You almost face palmed at your own words, how utterly stupid and childish they sounded. He had to have figured you didn’t know how to do this, he’d only spent your entire life seeing how busy you constantly were.

He smiled at you, a genuine toothy smile that made you want to scream in embarrassment. Luckily he didn’t seem to be making fun of you and was just genuinely amused by your awkward comment.

And he was. He liked seeing sides of you he’d only caught in passing, he liked that you were teasing back with him and not pulling away or snapping into fight mode at his presence. He especially liked the way your small hand was gripping tightly onto his wrist like you were so desperate to touch him, he wasn’t allowed to remove it for even a minute.

“We’ve gotta head back princess.” You could tell by the way he said that it was his final decision but you relished in the impatience in his eyes.

He leaned back in his seat again, leaving you leaned over the console still and short of breath before flopping back against the leather and waiting for him to pull out of the parking lot.

A few seconds of silence passed and you looked at him in question, raising an eyebrow at the fact he was looking at you in waiting. You followed the way his eyes looked down and saw his hand outstretched towards you.

You definitely were bright red now, looking away but taking his hand in yours as he finally started the drive back home.

—

He’d pulled up to the center after an hour of silence and shy hand squeezes. You were thankful for his silence, more than anything needing a bit of time to think about what had happened in the past few days.

It didn’t seem like it was weighing on him as much, he seemed nervous and excited but not as much thrown off as you felt. You wondered if there was a reasoning behind that or if you he was just really good at pretending to be casual.

You were terrible at being casual, further proved by the way you’re nearly choked as his hand found it’s way to the small of your back while leading you through the parking lot and into the building.

A week ago you would have thrown him off of you and said something about how you already knew the way in and didn’t need him to show you.

You thought about it for a second, just a small second, when you passed through the lobby and your coach came into view. She was practically blowing smoke as she caught sight of the two of you and started to shake her head in anger.

“Oh so now you show up.” She spat and you froze in place, step faltering at the aggressive way she was approaching. “You think you can just skip a whole entire afternoon of practice just because you’ve gotten some good scores in your career.”

Your frown was deepening and you felt the childish urge to curl in on yourself. You’d been in such a happiness cloud since this morning and you felt like you’d been pushed off a sharp cliff back into reality.

And she was absolutely right. It was stupid to skip practice even if it proved to be extremely important and beneficial to you.

“Watch what you say.” Sunghoon was spitting back at her and taking a small step forward, his hand sliding from your back to rest on your waist. Her eyes followed the movement but you couldn’t read her expression.

“Distracted.” She spat the single word, knowing the impact of it. Knowing that was the one thing you were not supposed to be, absolutely never allowed to be. “You’re fucking distracted.”

“And so what if she is.” You’d never heard Sunghoon so angry and you wanted to grab his shoulder and pull him back, wanted to calm him down so he didn’t get reprimanded too. “She’s spent everyday of her entire life focused on one thing, it was barely a few hours.”

“A few hours turns into more.” She was practically screeching now and a few other skaters were sending you apologetic glances and scurrying away. “This is a distraction”

You felt tears well up as she gestured between the two of you, a look of anger and disgust on her face.

“Aren’t you the one who paid for this.” You were confused what Sunghoon was referring to before you remembered the news article she had ordered. A surge of anger flashed through you at the reminder, the pure hypocrisy in what she was saying.

She could spin your love life however she pleased when it was beneficial to her and her career overview but forbids you from actually spending any time with anybody other than the ice.

You didn’t want to listen to her anymore, squeezing Sunghoon’s arm in an attempt to draw his attention away and calm him down. He didn’t look at you for a second, keeping his hard glare locked on her.

She wasn’t his coach so there wasn’t anything she could directly do to punish him. Nothing besides her ability to pull you from the pair skate or request a different partner for you, severely hurting your chances of winning and his yearly average.

“I told you about this.” Her voice was nearly a whisper with the way she hissed it through her clenched teeth. You thought she was talking to you for a second but she was holding Sunghoon’s gaze tightly.

Your hand fell from his arm in confusion, not understanding what she was referring to.

“I don’t give a fuck what you told me.” He spat back and took a small step back towards you again.

You took a step to the side before you even realized you were moving away from him, only processing it when he turned to look at you with a hurt expression. You felt guilty but something about the unknown of their words was leaving a heavy pit in your stomach.

“Y/N, we can talk about this later…. Alone.” Your coach was sighing and despite your anger with her you were glad she knew when to remove herself from a situation.

You held Sunghoon’s gaze as she walked off, presumably leaving the center. He spared a quick glance in her direction to make sure she was gone before looking back at you with that same expression.

“What’s wrong.” His voice was weak and confused, a sharp contrast to the way he was just throwing daggers at Suzy.

“What is she talking about?”

He seemed thrown off for a second, taking a second to think before understanding passed over his face. He took a step towards you, a hand jutted out in your direction. Your lips formed a frown but you took his hand and waited for him to speak.

“At the beginning of the season,” He cleared his throat and your stomach turned with nerves. Maybe she had instructed him to flirt with you, to attempt closeness with you for a better performance. “Before she officially picked me, she sat me down and told me I needed to keep my feelings out of it.”

“What feelings?” You shook your head in confusion, still not fully understanding. “Like with the way we fight? That doesn’t make any sense, wouldn’t she be happy to see us civil then?”

“It wasn’t about that.” He sighed and you watched his cheeks slowly redden as his eyes anxiously shifted to avoid looking at you. “She said she could tell I… was into you and she didn’t want me to become something you focused on outside of being your skate partner.”

You pondered the thought of what he was saying for a few beats of silence, almost feeling more confused at the explanation. If you were correct then he seemed to be insinuating existing feelings towards you, and enough for other people to notice.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.” He sighed again and you felt his hand uncomfortably flex in yours. “All these years of working up the nerve I figured it would be some big romantic gesture.”

He was telling a joke but his voice lacked all humor, a hint of anger seeping in like his plans had been ruined.

“What the hell are you talking about Sunghoon.” Your voice was breathy and slightly irritated, sick of everybody’s vague wordings. “You sound like you’re inlove with me or something.”

Your scoff trailed off when he didn’t say anything. You had expected him to laugh at the thought, say a teasing remark or anything at all. He stopped looking around and watched you with a strange expression, like he was waiting for you to piece things together.

You felt your mouth parting softly and you slowly dropped his hands, he didn’t try to grab yours again and gave you your space as you tried to process what he was seemingly saying.

Park Sunghoon seemed to be insinuating, or atleast not denying the fact, that he was inlove with you and had been for more than a few years.

The thought of this made you feel sick and dizzy and you almost grabbed him for support as your knees weakened.

You weren’t quite sure if it was a good sick or a bad sick. On one hand you were excited, your newly discovered liking towards him and desperation to explore this new territory driving forward the giddiness you felt at the thought of him liking you back.

On the other hand you felt disgusted. Both at yourself for missing the signs, maybe spending years hurting him with your rude comments and refusal to learn anything about him. But also at him for not telling you or even hinting it from what you could see, half the fights you’d gotten in throughout the years had been started by him.

“Since when?” Your voice came out stern and his eyes creased at the way your face scrunched up in confusion and anger.

He was shaking his head and taking a step towards you, immediately backtracking when he realized he had done so. You were watching him and waiting for a response that you weren’t sure was coming considering he was starting to look pained at the thought of telling you.

“It doesn’t matter.” He proved you right as he continued to shake his head. “It’s not a distraction, you only knew because I fucked up the other day at practice.”

“That was a fuck up?” You scoffed at him, anger making you ignore the fact that he was right and you yourself had treated it like he made a mistake.

“It shouldn’t have happened like that. I waited all this time it was selfish for me to do it now, I don’t know why I did.” He was trying to explain himself but it was just confusing you further. “I just couldn’t help myself, I don’t know, being around you like this is making me feel crazy.”

He was talking like a lovesick teenager and your stomach was lurching at the fact that might just be the case.

You don’t understand how he hid it so well, or even when he had started to realize his feelings and plan to keep them a secret. Why would he put himself through such a thing for so long and then risk it all by accepting to be your partner.

A wave of guilt washed over you again as you raked through all your memories with Sunghoon with this new added knowledge. He must’ve been so hurt while pretending like he didn’t care that you were so mean to eachother.

“Please tell me since when.” You tried to soften your voice, your anger not even directed at him in the first place just the circumstance.

“I don’t know.” His voice broke when he said it like it was a question he’d asked himself a dozen times. He took a big breath and deflated. “Probably since the first time I saw you with your little pink skates, who knows.”

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds and were suddenly hyper aware that you were having this conversation in the middle of the lobby, tears brewing in your eyes as your hands started to shake.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Sunghoon’s voice was desperate and earnest, like he felt guilty for falling inlove with you which made you feel ten times worse about the whole situation.

“Will you take me home?” You looked up at him with wet eyelashes just in time to see shock pass over his face. He clearly wasn’t expecting such a casual conversation change, especially one that entailed you spending more time alone together today.

Still, he softened as he looked at you and nodded his head slowly like he was waiting for you to change your mind. You both stood still even after his agreement, in a slight daze from the intense emotions you’d been feeling. He nodded again, more to himself this time, and you felt his hand against the small of your back starting to lead you back outside.

Neither of you spoke when you felt the cold air outside and still when he opened the passenger door for you and helped you climb into seat. He watched you for a second before closing the door and circling the car to get into his own spot.

It felt dramatically different in the space than it had only a few hours before, the giggly excited tension replaced with silence and heavy air. You were so out of it you didn’t even notice he didn’t ask for directions to your apartment.

When you realized you’d been driving for a few minutes you were confused, wondering when he had learned the way to your place, before realizing you weren’t heading in the direction you’d normally come from.

You immediately figured he was taking you to his house instead and for some reason you didn’t want to object. Despite being confused and angry and feeling slightly betrayed at this kept secret, you were comfortable and familiar in his presence and almost felt addicted to being around him.

Besides you know that there was nothing this warm and caring waiting for you back home. If your mother was there at all, she was bound to throw a massive fit over you missing practice.

It was worrying to you that you couldn’t find a single piece of care inside of you about missing practice. If anything, your chest was light and airy underneath all the pain and you weren’t sure it’d ever felt this stress free in your life.

You were slowly understanding why you were never given a break, why a day off was unacceptable. Maybe they were fearful you’d fully realize how much better you’d feel without this force of pressure and expectation.

Sunghoon wasn’t the reason you were distracted, at least not from the competition, and once you were able to speak again you wanted him to understand that.

Eventually you were pulling up to an apartment building, similar to yours but slightly on the other side of town. Sunghoon was looking over at you again, waiting for a sign you were ready to get out of the car.

You opened your own door and briefly saw him nod from the corner of your eye, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping outside back into the bitter air.

You awkwardly followed behind him as he unlocked the main set of doors with a keycard, walking down a long plain hallway until he stopped at a door with a small penguin welcome mat infront of it. He looked at it and then back at you and he seemed pleased at the amusement in your eyes.

When he unlocked the door you were suddenly hit with the fact you were about to see where he lived and quickly wondered who he lived with. You weren’t sure you were ready to hold an awkward conversation with his parents about why you were going in their sons room.

You realized immediately upon walking in, however, that that was not the case at all. The apartment was comfortable but small, far too small to house a family even if he had no siblings. You watched him kick his shoes off into a slot in the empty rack and hang his keys up on the singular hook.

He started down the entrance hallway before stopping when he realized you weren’t following behind him. He looked over his shoulder at you and tensed up at the sad expression on your face.

“What?” The tone of his voice told you that he already knew what you were thinking without you having to say it.

“I didn’t know you lived alone.” You tried to keep the pity out of your words, a casual tone coming off awkward and deliberate.

He scoffed at your attempt and for a moment you were reminded of who exactly you were standing here with, a glimpse of the familiar rival you were more used to startling you slightly.

He didn’t say anything in response, just waving a hand to signal for you to move into the main living space. You followed quickly after removing your shoes, taking in the larger room with widened eyes.

Something about it was very Sunghoon, despite being plain and quiet. The yellow toned lights and CD’s on the coffee table catching your attention as you shuffled into the warm room.

“You seemed out of it.” He was starting from behind you. He didn’t sound close but a chill ran through you at the thought of him watching you. “I didn’t feel right bringing you home alone, I hope that’s okay.”

You turned to look at him and your heart tugged at his sad tired expression. He was looking at you intensely, you figured it must be weird to see you in such a familiar setting. You jutted a hand out in his direction and he looked down at it with surprise.

“I didn’t want to go home.” Your voice was low and soft, the silence of the room outside of the heater running was reminding you of his grandma’s and it felt wrong to have a higher volume.

His head cocked slightly but he took your hand in his, letting out a shaky breath when you squeezed it tightly and pulled on his hand so he’d come closer to you. He was standing far away so your arms were stuck straight out, like he wasn’t sure he was actually allowed to touch you.

You tugged him again and he stumbled closer to you, his big hand instinctively coming to rest on your waist and then falling again in a haste. You frowned at his reaction and then realized he must be feeling confused.

“What are you thinking about?” You kept your voice quiet and soft and he looked down at you with that same pained expression. You let go of his hand and put both of yours flat on his chest, feeling the way his heart beat raced and hiccuped.

You were once again impressed by his ability to mask how he felt, if you weren’t looking at him so intensely or touching him, you’d have no idea he was feeling this upset.

“I don’t know.” He whispered and he sounded honest. His hand hesitatingly went back to your waist, feeling awkward at the way his arms dangled at his sides while you touched him.

“I want to be here.” You felt the sudden urge to reassure him on this despite not being sure if that’s what was bothering him or just the situation in general.

“For how long?” Frustration laced his words and you didn’t understand for a few seconds. First you assumed he meant how long you wanted to stay but you quickly realized he was asking how long you’ve wanted to be around him.

You felt guilt creep up considering you weren’t sure what answer to give him because you weren’t even sure yourself when things had changed for you. You don’t think it was a sudden dramatic realization after he tried to flirt with you like you originally thought.

Thinking back on your life now, Sunghoon and this rivalry has been the most consistent thing you’ve ever known. You’d search for him at competitions and you’d spend weekends thinking about what insults to throw at him next time you saw him.

This could’ve been a childish fued, maybe even bordering on actual dislike sometimes, if it wasn’t for everything else.

You were no stranger to finding him attractive, bitterly acknowledging it every time you saw him. You remember when you were entering your teens and he was shooting up in height and his features were sharpening, scrolling his instagram at the time and scowling at photos of him surrounded by similarly attractive people.

You thought back to staring at his hands in the diner and the fondness you felt watching him juggle an armful of forbidden snacks in that 7/11. A fondness that left you so dazed you had completely forgotten to act as an enemy and rat him out to the coaches.

As hard as it was to admit, even to yourself, you weren’t ice skating because it was your passion. It didn’t get you out of bed in the morning or light a fire under your skin in excitement. You did it because it was what people wanted for you and because you liked to win, you liked how people talked about you when you won.

Sunghoon was a breath of fresh air from the pressure, he never cared if you won or lost, in fact he didn’t want you winning half the time.

He didn’t talk to you like you were a project, a robot prodigy who didn’t have room for love or care and he didn’t walk on eggshells around you like you were some royal princess needing only the best treatment.

You wouldn’t sit here and tell Sunghoon you knew how he’s felt all these years, you wouldn’t lie and say you’d been pining over him too and it has always been set in stone for you but a large part of you feels like maybe you knew it all along.

“I can’t say.” You answered honestly even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But I am here now Sunghoon.”

You felt his hands tensing against your sides, instinctively squeezing like he was worried you’d disappear now. You wanted to ask him the things you should have years ago, you wanted to know why he lived alone and how long he’s come back to this empty room after hours of hard practice.

You felt guilty again for missing the signs. His familiarity at a random diner, clearly frequently there alone. Always being at the rink at random times like nobody was expecting him home or worried he was overworking himself.

Another part of you was relieved now, holding this knowledge tightly with the determination to change this and be there for him regardless if you yourself were considering not returning to the ice.

“I should’ve told you sooner.” He was saying and shaking his head. It was strange seeing him so self deprecating.

“You told me now.” You affirmed and one of your hands slid up his chest to hold his face, making him look at you and see the sincerity in your eyes. “I know now and I didn’t go anywhere.”

He nodded and you were worried he was going to cry, eyes shaking as he looked down at you and leaned into your touch against his cheek.

So you did the one thing you could think of, the thing you were practically craving only a few hours earlier, and you surged forward on your toes to kiss him.

He was taken back by your sudden proximity, tensing up when he felt your lips against his and then more so when you rocked back onto your flat feet and awkwardly waited for him to say something.

His mouth parted a few times like he was going to speak but after a second or two passed his eyes were hardening with that familiar determination and he was kissing you.

Kissing you with a desperation of somebody who’d been thinking about it for a long time, hands sliding behind your back to pull you closer and tighter against him.

You smiled against him, his mouth sliding against yours as he kissed you deeper. Your hand that was on his face went to his hair and you felt a shudder run through him at the feeling.

He pulled back to look at you, pressing his forehead against yours like he did in the car and breathing heavily as he looked down at you.

“I love you.” He rushed it out like it was his only chance to say it and then immediately shut his eyes tight like he was embarrassed. “You don’t need to say anything back I just needed to finally say it out loud to someone other than my grandma.”

“Are we going to talk about your grandma everytime you’re about to kiss me?” You laughed and he smiled at you, squeezing your front against him.

“No definitely not.” And he kissed you again.

——

The next week was probably the most stressful of your entire life, which was pretty impressive considering how your childhood and early adult years were basically one big intense competition.

Having to tell not only your coach for the last decade that you were quitting, but also your mother, was probably scarier than any stunt you could attempt.

Coach Suzy, as it turns out, seemed to be expecting it and told you that she was planning to retire once this year’s competitions were over. She apologized for being so harsh on you at times and especially for losing her temper due to her own stress and insecurities.

You forgave her and wrapped her in a tight hug but you could feel Sunghoon glaring at her from behind your back.

Sunghoon had been beyond helpful during the process, both legitimately with the paper work it required and removing yourself from data and emotionally. It wasn’t easy to admit to yourself you were done doing the only thing you’d ever been good at.

“You’re good at lots of things.” He was telling you for probably the tenth time this week. You were laying in his bed, hand in his as he played with your fingers.

You’ve learned a lot about him with all the time you’ve been spending, not everything of course but every new bit of information was exciting to you. You liked seeing him in different moods and settings, this one being your favorite.

You liked him best like this, his now dark hair messily splayed against his pillow, still smelling like sleep and the coffee on his bedside table. You liked the way his fingers sleepily played with the shirt you were wearing, which was of course his, and tugged on it.

“Yeah but I don’t know what.” You were sighing and rolling onto your stomach so you could look at him directly

He was smiling at you with a lazy toothy grin, sitting up just a little against the headboard to be able to see your face better. He leaned his head back and shrugged.

“You never had a chance to be good at something else, it doesn’t mean you’re not princess.” You flushed at his casual words and he noticed, leaning down to kiss your head and laugh. “I knew you liked that.”

“Shut up.” You were grumbling and resting your chin on his chest once he sat back again. “Maybe I did a little but I almost gagged the first time it made me blush.”

He was letting out a throaty laugh and you felt your face vibrate as his chest moved making you laugh quietly with him. He looked pretty like this and you liked the way his dark hair looked, having gone so long without seeing it.

Your tired laughs naturally died down and you turned your head so your cheek was on his chest instead, feeling him breathe and listening to his heart pick up in speed every so often.

“Will you come with when I talk to my mom?” You weren’t embarrassed at the childish hint in your voice, knowing he’d understand why this was way scarier than the other parts.

“Anything for you.” He was still smiling at you but he sounded serious, hand in your hair now as he played with it and kept it out of your face.

It made your stomach flip when he said it because you knew he meant it. He’d been beyond caring and helpful even letting you stay with him, doing quick stops at your apartment after you’d made sure your moms car wasn’t around so you could get some clothes and necessities.

He didn’t seem to mind the company at all, always smiling at you in the mornings and when he came home from the rink to the sight of you on his couch watching a movie or doing the dishes in the kitchen.

He’d even taken you to see his grandma a few more times. He really did mean it when he said he went every day, only missing a single night when it all hit you and you couldn’t stop crying. You felt awful the next morning he’d stay with you and begged him to apologize to her for you when he asked you to come along.

She had a soft knowing smile when you walked in behind him, patting her bed for you to sit and giving you advice on what to say to your mother.

“She’s your mother honey, she’ll love you no matter what you choose to do.” She had whispered to you and you felt your heart crack with the knowledge that wasn’t quite true.

“Her moms a lot like dad.” Sunghoon was mumbling from behind you, he was standing with his hands on your shoulder as you sat on the bed. You weren’t quite sure what that referred to but his grandmas mouth parted in understanding.

“Then there’s nothing you can do.” Her sharp flip in opinion made you glance back at Sunghoon. He gave you a look like he would explain later and you hesitantly looked away. “You can’t live for her, there’s no right there. You need to live for yourself and accept that relationship as a loss.”

You were replaying her words in your mind on a loop as you stood outside your door, suddenly feeling like a stranger who needed to knock before entering. It was never homely but this was the first time you truly realized how cold it felt here.

You knew Sunghoon was right behind you, giving you some space incase you were overwhelmed or felt like you needed to change your mind, but you reached your hand back for confirmation and took a deep breath when you felt his warm hand in yours.

Waiting with baited breath, your knuckles stung from the knocks against the door. You were bouncing your foot anxiously and counting each second before she opened the door.

For just a split second you saw shock and relief pass over her face before it was twisting up in anger and disgust.

“How dare you come here?” She was spitting towards you and you wanted to flinch back away from her, holding your resolve and letting her finish her comments. “And with him of all people.”

When she turned her murderous gaze towards Sunghoon, something was set off in you and you stepped to the side to block him from her view with a glare. She seemed taken back by this, used to you being paralyzed by guilt and fear.

“If you’re here to apologize I don’t want to hear it.” She hissed at you after the shock passed, her anger only building now at your defiance.

“I have nothing to apologize for.” You spat back at her, stuttering slightly with anxiousness. You felt Sunghoon squeeze your hand in his and take a step closer to you and you took a deep calming breath before continuing with a stronger tone. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m here to get my stuff and then we won’t have to see each other again.”

You weren’t sure where this came from, not having made any plans with Sunghoon to stay with him longer. A wave of insecurity hit you at the idea you were overstaying your welcome and he was going to deny you, leaving you with no choice but to find somewhere else to stay with. You had some distant family but you can’t imagine they’d be too ecstatic about taking on an adult with no job.

“And where on earth are you planning to go.” Your mother did what she did best and caught sight of your insecurity, magnifying it with a knowing sneer. “Nobody will want you, ‘ex prodigy’ won’t get you in anywhere.”

“She’s staying with me.” Sunghoon’s voice came from over your shoulder and you felt his front press against you, his hand on your shoulder to steady you. He was having a hard time seeing you like this, anger surging through him as he watched you go weak from fear.

“I want her and she can stay for as long as she needs to. We are just here to get her stuff, like she’s already told you.” His voice was hard and dark, your moms eyes flashing up at him with angry eyes as he spoke so firmly.

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you almost thought she’d turn you away and leave you with absolutely nothing to your name. Eventually, however, she took a step to the side of the doorway and waved the two of you in.

Sunghoon gave you a loaded glance once you were in your living room, you nodded at him and he made his way down the hall to your room while you stayed back with your mother.

“I see he knows his way around.” She scoffed at you and glared at his back as he walked away.

“It’s my house too.” You muttered back at her. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He ruined you.” She barely let you finish your sentence before she was snapping at you, a finger being raised and pointed in your face. “This is all his fault.”

“This is your fault.” You felt tears well up in your eyes again and shook your head. “If you stopped being a coach and tried being my mother for just one second you would’ve realized that before it was too late.”

“You think he’ll keep you around?” She was twisting her face with a nasty sneer as she took another step towards you. “Regardless how I feel about him, that boy is talented. You think he’ll want you even when he’s an Olympic winner and you’re working a part time job?”

You knew she was wrong, that everything she was saying was so out of Sunghoon’s character and would disgust him just at the thought. But her ability to look into the deepest part of you and see your darkest fears caused you to tense up.

“He loves me.” Was all you could bring yourself to say, willingly him to hurry up and come back out here so the two of you could leave already.

“Yeah, love.” She laughed at the word like the idea of anybody loving you was ridiculous. “You don’t think I loved you? You think this was all for me… that I wanted to be a mean coach.”

She didn’t seem to notice her own contradictions, calling herself your coach right after saying she had loved you. She was getting angry again, wanting to continue this argument and prove you wrong. You were exhausted of it, knowing what Sunghoon’s grandma said was completely right.

“You didn’t love me.” Your voice was firm and certain, leaving no room for denial. “But not because of anything I did wrong.”

You saw Sunghoon over her shoulder, waiting in the hallway with a few boxes and a backpack over his shoulder. He was trying not to listen in on your conversation but also seemingly ready to step in.

He caught your eye and you smiled at him, despite your teary eyes, he could tell you felt relieved and that you were ready to move on from this part of your life. There was no right path here, and in skating, and that was okay.

Your mother didn’t say anything else, not even when he came over to you or when you held the door for him so he didn’t drop any of your boxes. She didn’t close the door after you’d left and you didn’t look back at her as she watched you get in his car and drive away from the only home you’d known.

“I don’t actually have to stay with you if it’s not okay.” You were whispering while he drove. “Thank you for saying it though, saved me from a lot of embarrassment.”

He looked over at you like you’d gone crazy, frowning and shaking his head. He was taking a hand off the wheel and grabbing your still shaky one that was resting on your knee.

“Of course you can stay with me princess.” His voice was serious but warm and you squeezed his hand in yours, suddenly overwhelmed with care and affection.

Maybe not the only home.

[hongjoongspoetry]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart Masterpost

⛸️ Summary: You and Mingi have been at each other's neck for the past year. The latter finds big enjoyment in spurring you on while you just want to make it to graduating without being charged with murder. Things take an interesting turn when your crush and fellow figure skater shows interest in you resulting in a fistfight, two love confessions and multiple heartbreaks.

⛸️ Pairing(s): Hockey Player!Mingi x Figure Skater!Reader, Figure Skater!Hyunjin x Figure Skater!Reader

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst, fluff, smut

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, alcohol consumption, chaotic friendship, a lot of side characters, party scenes, arguments, mature content, more tags are to come with each chapter so read those carefully!

⛸️ Current wordcount: 58.2K

⛸️ Author's note: Ignore the fact that this was supposed to be an oneshot and not a mini-series. Anyhow, I'm really proud of this work as it is something I've been writing for a really long time (since October 2023) but I'm also very nervous to share it with you guys, so if you like (or dislike) it, please, do tell me! The parts are all around 13-16K words, except for the finale, which I still haven't started writing 😭

I also want to say a big thank you to @/zchnlswrld for beta reading and giving me love and encouragement through the journey! You’re very much appreciated 🩷

AO3 Masterlist Moodboard Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is not for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights, and adult language. Minors, please refrain from reading or interacting with this work!!!

01 — I'm Just Dreaming of Tearing You Apart

02 — The Autumn Within Me Is Grieving

03 — You Know You’re on My Mind

04 — Know It’s for the Better

05 — Be Still My Foolish Heart (TBD)

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed

[cosmopretty]

caroline harvey x ice skater! reader ??

Caroline Harvey X Figure Skater Fem

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—————————————————————————————————

She is in love with watching you skate on the ice she is mesmerized by you

Loves your skating outfits so much

You guys met at Wisconsin when you accidentally delayed there practice

Going to college after winning the Olympics and being a normal person was all new for you. But the fact that the school had a skate rink, helped a ton. Right now you were skating across the ice, adding a turn or a jump every few steps. You didn’t notice when the gym door opened up and team of hockey players came in with the gear on ready to practice. The head coach Mark looks at you then back at the team “Wait one second I’ll ask her to get off the ice” he informs the girls. Lacey squeals grabbing KK’s arm “Holy shit that’s the Y/N Y/L she’s like a famous ice skater she got Olympic gold medals and all” she tells the girls shocked that you were in there rink right now.

You skate faster before doing three quads in a row landing them. You hear clapping and turn your head seeing a group of girls, you skate towards them and step out of the rink “I’m so sorry I didn’t know there was practice today” you apologize quickly. The coach nods at you and introduces himself “I’m Mark the coach it’s great to meet you I’ve heard a lot about you” he says. You smile “Thanks I’m Y/n” you say and Laila taps your shoulder “Your really talented you know” she says smiling ear to ear. You nod “Yeah I bet you guys are too” you smile.

Caroline thought you were the prettiest girl she has ever seen before “You looked really good on the ice it was beautiful” she compliments you. You turn your head to her and you look into her pretty blue eyes “Thank you, you have beautiful eyes” you say softly before coach motions for the girls to get on the ice. Caroline looks at coach then back at you “Here take my number I’m Caroline but you can call me KK” she tells you before grabbing your phone from your hand. You unlock it for her and she puts her number in before smiling at you and getting on the ice with her team, a blush covering her cheeks.

You wear her jerseys to all her games and she gets you the best seats every time you come to watch her

Caroline comes to all your competitions and practices just to watch you

She loves to skate with you when it’s just the two of you alone

You hold Caroline’s hands as you skate backwards pulling her along with you. She grabs your waist pulling you up in the air while she spins on the ice. You laugh “KK if you drop me I swear to god” you squeal as she spins you both faster before moving your legs to wrap around her waist. She hold you in her arms as she skates around you wrap your arms around her neck “Your so beautiful baby” she whispers one hand coming to pull your face closer to hers.

You rub your nose against hers “Yeah and you’re gorgeous” you tell her before pulling her lips against yours. She kisses back immediately and gently puts you back onto the ice before pulling away and grabbing your hand dragging you across the ice to skate with her, your hands interlocked. You let go and twirl around on the ice before smiling at her and grabbing her hand pulling her closer to you “Come on hot stuff show off for me” you beg. She smirks and starts skating way faster that you “Come on catch up with me baby” she says before you try to catch up but her being way to fast.

In love with doing your hair for you before competitions

She gets nervous when you have to practice or do a dangerous move

Always helps you when your injured or sore that goes both ways

Giving each others massages >>>

Forcing her to do Pilates with you

KK groans sitting back on the floor “I can’t do this my body is not flexible” she complains looking up at you. Rolling your eyes you bend down next to her “Come on it will be good for you now get your ass up and let’s go” you demand standing up and looking at her expectingly. She groans and stands up watching you “Okay so bend your knee into a lunge and bend your back backwards to grab your back foot” you tell her before doing exactly what you said.

She tried to copy your position before falling down “I quit I’m done” she says laughing sitting in her butt watching you do it by yourself. She flex’s her muscles in the mirror for you “See these you wish you had them this bullshit didn’t do that” KK says before sitting back leaning on her hands. You stop and look at her “You see this body you wish you had my waist” you wink. She shakes her head “No I love my big abs but I love looking at your body and feeling it” she grabbing you by the waist and pulling you on top of her. You laugh and move your hand to cup her cheek before kissing her, she kisses back and slides her tongue in your mouth. Laila walks into the gym and gags “NO NO NO GET A ROOM YOU FREAKS” she yells covering her eyes.

SHES SO PROTECTIVE OF YOU

she always finds a way to bring you up in conversations “My girlfriend is the best figure skater ever” “Oh Y/n yeah that’s my girl” “My girl is unreal on the ice you should watch her sometimes”

She tries to teach you hockey but it doesn’t always end up well

You look at KK holding the big hockey stick in your hand “I don’t think I can do it” you tell her honestly. She goes behind you and puts on hand above yours, enveloping yours “Just relax baby” she whispers moving you into a stance to hit the puck. You follow her lead and hit the puck and it flys across the ice before hitting the wall and coming back hitting you in the calve.

“Ow ow ow KK ow” you gasp, wincing holding your foot dropping the puck. Caroline picks you up bridle style trying not to laugh at you. You look up at her with a pout on your face “What’s so funny? I’m in real pain” you ask her while she carries you to the bench.

She lays you down and takes your skates off for you, she bites her lip to hide her laugh. Once the skates are off you kick her in the stomach “I asks what’s so funny?” you ask again. She laughs out loud “Your like impossible to play hockey with how do you get hurt doing nothing it’s hilarious” she laughs some more. You look at her dead faced with no emotion, so she grabs your waist brining you to sit on her lap. Caroline rubs your waist and kisses your head “I’m sorry baby it’s okay I love you sporty or not” she jokes. You roll your eyes and kiss her cheek “My calve really hurts tho” you say. She moves you on her lap to sit with your butt on the bench, your legs in her lap. She lifts your pants up and looks at the mark before rubbing it, you flinch “It’s gonna bruise I’m sorry mama” she says feeling bad that you got hurt and she was just joking about it. You shrug “It’s fine sweetheart I promise I love you” you say looking up at her.

You steal her jersey all the time

People say you guys are both iconic with how your both Olympics winners

THE TIKTOK EDITS GO CRAZY

She is in love and amazed on how flexible your body is *wink wink*

She calls you mama, baby, princess

You call her babe, sweetheart, baby

You guys have a good luck ritual where you tell each other I love you before a game or a competition

[cherrycherrylady2024]

Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 3,327

Warnings 18+: Drinking, mentions of sex, kissing, incredible sexual tension, very sensuous bandaging, this is so hot i love this chapter

Chapter 5: Reach out and touch

It felt like a sign. Or instant karma. Your face was hot with embarrassment as you shakily picked yourself up, stumbling twice in the process. Judith and co. had already made a full lap around the rink and skated up to you at the perfect time to watch you fall yet again. “Shit, y/n! Are you okay?” Judith exclaimed, quickly skating over to you and helping you stand. Why the fuck is everyone in this town an Olympic pro skater? You brushed it off with a laugh, concealing your chagrin. Your unfortunately un-gloved palms were already red and thumping with pain, along with your knee which had smashed into the ice. Marsha looked you up and down, a hint of a sneer on her lips, “Do you want one of those?” she questioned, pointing at a kid wobbling around the ice, using a walker. A few others were strewn about, clearly meant for the idiots who couldn’t skate. Judith shot her a look and you tried to conceal your irritation. “No, thanks though. I’m just rusty,” you say gritting your teeth. Marsha smiled faux-sweetly and zipped off, spraying a bit of ice in her wake. Daniel looked at you, a hint of worry, before following Marsha. “I’m sorry y/n, Marsha’s a bitch sometimes,” Judith said, interlinking her arm with yours. You didn’t respond, as you felt tears prickling the back of your eyes. Everything was bubbling up to the surface. You were feeling so many things so heavily and quickly that you weren’t sure how to handle it all.

But still, you refused to cry. 

Judith did a lap with you around the rink as you gained your bearings, before you shooed her off to try on your own. She stayed a few feet away, watching you, in case you fell. She was a good friend. Your best friend. And you wanted to fuck her dad. You are despicable. Every time you fell, you almost felt like you deserved it. You got the hang of it just barely towards the end, but only after slamming into the barriers, the ground, and a few other people. After an hour on the ice, your hands were scraped and bruised, your pants torn on one knee, and you ached all over. Marsha and Daniel said their goodbyes, which you barely acknowledged. The car ride home was quiet between you and Judith, except for some Christmas music playing over the radio. You kept your eyes trained out of the window, exhausted emotionally and physically. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her glancing at you now and then. She finally spoke, “Y’know…you could’ve told me you can’t skate.” She said this gently, not judging. It wasn’t accusatory, or mean, or bitchy, she was entirely genuine. Your frustrations melted away. You loved her. You looked at her tiredly, not saying anything as she returned your gaze. After a moment, a small smile began to form on her lips and you couldn’t help but return it. You let out a giggle. She snorted, her smile growing. Before you knew it you were both cackling with laughter, Judith even wiping a tear from her eye. It was pretty ridiculous, you look like you had been in a bar fight. Judith slowed to a stop in front of Carol’s house again and Carl got in the car, your laughter just winding down. He paused for a second, “What happened to you?” he questioned. You and Judith immediately burst into laughter again. You felt better.

~~~

You walked back into the Grimes house, your bones aching. You wanted a hot shower and perhaps a few bandaids. You remembered with feverish excitement that Rick would be home, and you headed into the kitchen, assuming he would be preparing dinner. Except he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the dining room either. Or the living room. You felt both panic and disappointment rise in you. “Dad’s working late again!” you hear Judith yell from the kitchen. You speed walk back in, and try to seem nonchalant. Judith flicks a note towards you, “He didn’t leave pizza money either. Leftovers I guess.” You picked up the note, reading and re-reading it.

‘Working late, not sure when I’ll be home. Be good. Sweet dreams if I don't see you - Dad’ 

It was a simple note, probably scrawled quickly during his lunch break. Not much to read into. Except you were nearly 100% sure the last line was meant for you. It had to be. While you were supremely let down, you also felt a sense of vindication. It was there. It was real.

The three of you heated up Chinese leftovers and enjoyed your small feast on the couch, watching Christmas movies. You had fully emerged from your bit of moodiness and enjoyed Judith and Carl's company. Sure Judith had a terrible habit of talking through movies, and yes, Carl couldn’t sit still for more than 10 seconds, but it was a comfort to you. The fireplace warmed the three of you, snuggled up in blankets, and you realized that you felt the most at home you have in a very, very long time. Maybe it was because you felt validated by the note, or maybe you were just tired, but the time flew by surprisingly fast. Before you knew it, Carl was headed to bed and you had said your goodnights to the Grimes siblings. You got in the shower after Judith around 9 pm, the warm water soothing your aching body. You were surprised to find a few more scrapes and bruises that had been concealed by your clothing, but you didn’t care enough to ask for bandaids at this point. You methodically picked out and put on a pair of pajamas before diving under the covers, already chilly. You set your alarm for 2 am, and fell asleep with surprising ease.

~~~

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you tip-toed down the stairs, hoping against all hope that Rick would be in the kitchen. Just like last night. Just like every night for the rest of time if you were lucky. You padded into the kitchen, silent as the dead, holding your breath in anticipation. 

He sat at the kitchen island once more, studying the newspaper's crossword under the small lamp, his whiskey by his side. You breathed a sigh of relief, and he looked up, an expression of mild surprise followed by a smile. “Back again?” He remarked. His smile briefly faltered as he surveyed your appearance; your nearly-see-through tank top which left little to the imagination in the chilly house, your shorty shorts which looked small enough to be underwear, and your scraped and bruised knees. He looked like he wanted to ask, but thought better of it. You had a sudden wave of panic. What the fuck were you doing? “Couldn’t sleep,” you stated. He nodded his head, glancing back down toward his newspaper, “More dreams?” You scoffed and walked over to him, the cold tiles of the kitchen shocking your feet. You sidled up right next to him, standing only a few inches away as he sat. He turned his head slowly, blue eyes wandering up your frame to look at you, his face slightly lower than yours. His expression was slightly questioning yet indulgent of your little show. You glanced down at him with a sly smile before bending over and reading his crossword questions out loud to yourself. You could feel his gaze linger on your body, stretched over him. “This one is wrong, Rick,” you said definitively, pointing out one of the rows he had filled in. Rick, Rick, Rick. You loved to say his name, but you felt a twinge of fear when he looked at you, raising his eyebrow slightly. Didn’t he tell you to call him Rick? The corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smirk. “Oh is it?” he said sarcastically, more of a statement than a question. Your leg brushed up against his, neither of you moving away. “Mhm. Pencil,” you commanded, hand outstretched. He chortled, shaking his head and handing you the pencil.

You had gripped the end of it before he suddenly stopped, and in the blink of an eye, both his hands quickly cupped your outstretched one. “What happened here?” He questioned, more concerned than you expected. You regretted not putting on bandaids earlier, as you felt your face go slightly warm. “Oh- I… fell. Like a lot. On the ice. It was sort of mortifying,” you admitted. You hated the thought of him thinking you were some clumsy kid. He moved your hand around, inspecting it, his grip on your wrist secure and warm. The fingers of his other hand gently brushed across your own, opening up your hand more. He stood and moved past you in an instant, his hand brushing your waist, sending more goosebumps across your skin. “It’s fine really, it doesn’t hurt,” you said. He ignored you, ducking into a cupboard and emerging with a first aid kit. He cracked it open and brought the lamp closer to you two, before patting the counter, “Hop up.” You obeyed and climbed onto the counter. He situated himself slightly in between your outstretched knees, close enough that you could wrap your legs around him if you wanted to. And you did want to. You weren’t embarrassed by your ice skating battle scars anymore. In fact, this was the best possible way this situation could go. Thank god you're terrible at ice skating. You tried not to smile.

Rick put some Neosporin on the butt of each of your hands, his clean fingertip delicately spreading it across your scrape. He was so gentle. So quiet. So present. It was incredibly intimate. He wrapped a thin piece of gauze around both of your hands, and you felt somewhat silly again. Perhaps this was overkill.

That was until he gripped the back of your thigh, spreading your legs further and bringing your right knee closer to his eye level.

You inhaled sharply, but he didn’t seem to notice, his gaze completely and utterly focused on your beat-up knee. It was extremely endearing. You were now situated, legs akimbo, around Rick Grimes. One of his hands held the back of your calf, the other in the middle of your quad, turning your knee this way and that in the light. “You ain’t ever allowed to ice skate again,” he finally declared shaking his head with a smile. You felt like you were on fire like anything could happen in this moment. You tried to maintain control of yourself, chill out. “Yes sir,” you mumbled, not quite as sarcastic sounding as you had meant it to be. Certainly not chill! His eyes flicked up to yours, catching the sheepish look on your face. He smiled to himself as he let go of your leg, reaching for the alcohol wipes in the kit. He peeled one open then looked up at you, “This might sting.” You nodded, nothing could take you away from this moment. He dabbed the wipe gently on your scraped knee and- OW. You sucked in a surprised breath between your teeth, squeezing your eyes closed. “Shhh,” he said, gently caressing your thigh in a soothing gesture, “You’re alright.”

You forgot about the pain almost immediately, his caress much more arousing than soothing. You peeked down at him. His face was inches away from your knee, eyebrows knit up, focusing on sanitizing the scrape as gently as possible. Rick's large hands gripping your thigh, yet working so delicately on your injury. His dark, thick hair with those sexy curls. One had even fallen into his face, and it took all your strength not to push it back for him. Run your fingers through his hair. You wanted nothing more than to touch him. He cleaned the smaller scrape on your other knee before throwing the towlette away. He applied Neosporin again and placed a large bandaid on one and a smaller one on the other. With his thumbs, he stroked the edges of the bandaids firmly, coercing them to stay in place. He rubbed his hands together, inspecting his work, “Alright that should do it. Nothin’ we can do ‘bout these bruises though.” He stood. You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want him to ever leave between your legs.

It was out of your mouth before you could give it a second thought, 

“Will you kiss it better?”

...

Now would be the appropriate time to crawl into a hole and die. 

You felt an immediate flush grace your cheeks. Rick peered down at you, and you struggled to read his expression. It was like a warning look, but also spirited, like something had stirred inside of him. Like he was entertaining this behavior. He looked hungry. You hadn’t broken eye contact, your lips slightly parted, ready to take back what you said. He studied you for another moment before his hand slid under your leg again, stabilizing it. He slowly knelt, sinking almost entirely in front of you, your legs open wide to him. He maintained eye contact as he leaned forward slightly, and left a soft kiss over your bandaged knee. Your eyelids fluttered and you let out the tiniest shaky breath. He must have noticed, but again said nothing. He wasn’t done. He moved lazily to your other knee, and left another kiss, lingering longer. You were at the precipice of something. All you had to do was reach out and touch. He finished and stood, that same hungry look in his eye, slightly self-satisfied. He could see what he was doing to you.

Rick’s hips were situated in line with your knees, maybe even closer. One of his hands just so happened to stay on your thigh. It was undeniable now. If anybody walked in there was no explaining this. You could cut the tension between you two with a knife. No, not even with a knife. A chainsaw might do the job. You didn’t want him to stop. He seemed as though he was just about to say something, but you interrupted him, stretching out your bandaged hands. Your knuckles bumped his chest, your palms up. You didn’t need to say anything, he understood, that playful look in his eye. He grasped the back of your hand and leaned down. Your fingers cupped his face as he left a gentle kiss to your bandaged hand. His coarse facial hair tickled the soft flesh of your palm. He moved to the other one, again leaving a slightly deeper kiss. You wanted nothing more than to grab his face and connect your lips. You could imagine it so vividly. Reach out and touch. What was stopping you? You couldn’t imagine he’d protest. And yet, to cross that line… you were petrified. As much as you tried to seem suave and confident, this was completely uncharted territory. Maybe in an alternate universe, you were bold, truly bold. Maybe you were already fucking on the kitchen counter. But not in this universe.

He pulled away from your hand. Please don’t stop Please don’t stop Please don’t stop. He started putting away the med kit. No. No. No.

“Ow,” you remarked flatly. 

He turned back to find you pointing at your inner thigh, and the rather large bruise situated only one or two inches from the hem of your shorts. You had no idea how it had appeared, yet there it was. He stared at the bruise, clenching his jaw, the gears turning in his head. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. He looked up at you.

You were taken aback by his stormy expression. You hadn’t seen a look like this on his face before and it took you a few moments to piece it together. There was a kind of frustration behind his eyes, one that you couldn’t wrap your head around. Why would he be angry? It wasn’t a full-on glare, more of a DANGER warning, and yet you could see that same hunger there, ten-fold. It was as though he was desperately holding himself back, and he was losing. You got the feeling Rick didn’t like to lose. He didn’t move. Neither of you did.

You have made a huge mistake. You fucked everything up. What is wrong with you?

He looked away, out of the window, thinking briefly. You were both vividly aware of the line you had asked him to cross. The moments passed at a glacial pace, and you felt frozen in anticipation of what might come. Rick turned back to you and sighed lowly. He set the medical kit back down, maybe a little harder than it needed to be. He drummed his fingers on the box. You gripped the counter anxiously, trying not to let it show on your face. After what felt like an excruciatingly long amount of time, he moved. Rick situated himself back in between your legs, spreading them wider with his hand, a gentle pressure on your knee. He was closer than before, even. You exhaled shakily. He hooked his hand in the crook of your leg, lifting it up. He was still gentle, but you could sense he was holding back. It was the same motion he would do if he was about to put your leg over his shoulder, and you couldn’t shake the image from your head. Reach out and touch. His other hand held your opposite thigh for stability, his thumb stroking your skin gently. He lowered his head languidly, maintaining the same steely eye contact. You breathed heavily. His face was mere inches from your clothed pussy as he dipped his head towards your thigh. He paused, keeping his mouth just slightly away from the mauve bruise, and you could feel his equally heavy breath on your skin. He looked up at you holding your gaze as he connected his parted lips to your inner thigh. His eyes shut as he slowly pursed his lips, leaving the world's most erotic, warm, semi-open-mouthed kiss.

He exhaled through his nostrils like he was relieved of some great burden within himself. Like he was given water while lost in the desert. He didn’t seem to want to stop. Or maybe he just couldn’t. He had given in. His lips didn't leave the spot for quite some time, grazing over the bruise. You could’ve come right then and there. Rick Grimes’ head in between your thighs, his lips on your skin, his fingers gripping you tightly, as though he was trying in vain to restrain himself. He kissed the bruise a second time, and you could swear you felt him lightly suck at your skin. He dragged his bottom lip gradually away from the bruise, traveling down your leg. You could feel his teeth slightly graze your skin. The warmth of his mouth. Shivers racked your body as you let your head fall back slightly, closing your eyes in ecstasy at the lightest touch. His lips eventually departed and he straightened up slowly, his head still bowed, before meeting your eyes darkly.

He was inches away, gazing deeply, lustfully, dangerously into your soul. His hand hadn’t left your thigh. Reach out. You breathed shakily. And touch. Your hand met his on your thigh. Reach out and touch. You traveled slowly up his arm, stopping at his shoulder. He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t move. You leaned forward, your legs opening up even more for him. Reach out and touch. Your lips were centimeters from his, you shared the same breath, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He wasn’t making this easy for you. You had to cross that line, not him. Your hand met the side of his face. Reach out and touch. 

Maybe it was this universe.

You pressed your lips against his.

***

notes: oh my god. Oh my god. Tee hee thanks for waiting I hope you guys like this one! Also if anyone has any suggestions of things you'd like to see in this story feel free to DM me, I'm always open to input! <3

[atomic-raunch]

Shirley Skates

[hongjoongspoetry]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 1 — I’m Just Dreaming Of Tearin’ You Apart

⛸️ Summary: Practicing for the Spring Championship preliminaries with your longtime crush wasn’t something you expected and neither was being treated to coffee by the man you despised most in the world, yet both happened in the span of a week. Besides figure skating competitions and hockey games, your best friends created a game of their own involving money and your love life.

⛸️ Pairing(s): Hockey Player!Mingi x Figure Skater!Reader, Figure Skater!Hyunjin x Figure Skater!Reader

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers, but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst, fluff

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), a lot of swearing, petnames (princess), mention of drugs and sex in a joking manner, use of alcohol, chaotic friendship, friendly fights, a lot of side-characters, mingi is a bit of a dick, MDNI!!!

⛸️ Wordcount: 16.5K

⛸️ Author's note: I'm finally uploading this!! I know I said it was going to be an oneshot, but I wrote too much to post it all in one go so I decided to make it into a mini-series instead. There will be five parts to Cold Hands, Warm Heart and I'll upload every Friday starting from today. It's crazy to think I've been writing this whole thing since October last year, like what?!

The first part is more of an introduction to all the characters and me easing you into the plot rather than starting off too strong with the main pairing, so there isn't a lot of scenes with Mingi, but there will be plenty in the future. Anyway, I won't keep you for too long! Enjoy and tell me your thoughts ❤️

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is not for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights, and adult language. Minors, please refrain from reading or interacting with this work!!!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

The sound of blades against ice and the smell of a freezer empty of food brought you great comfort, and it continued to do so for a century and a half. The ice rink was your second home — not the college or your grandma’s house — heck, you could maneuver the place better than your own home. Abel Korzeniowski’s Charms blasted pleasantly through the speakers in the hall as you stood in the middle of the ice with your hands raised and knees slightly bent. The arena was completely empty, which wasn’t anything weird considering it was six AM on a Monday. You slowly moved across the ice in sync to the music, leaving all your thoughts and worries in the parking lot outside. There were only you and the ice. 

As the music gradually picked up its pace, you began doing light spins and jumps. You imagined the arena to be packed with people, their excited eyes following your elegant figure, and cheers going off like cannons after every stunt. In tune with the music reaching its turning point, you propelled yourself up and spun in the air, only for the melody to be abruptly cut off. A short static echoed in the hall as the AUX was rather harshly unplugged from your phone, making you lose your footing and fall on your ass.

The ice beneath was hard and cold, and it numbed your whole left leg except for the burning pain that flared up in your backside. You had to physically hold back tears as you stood back up on shaky legs.

“Majestic as always, princess, but I’ll have to deduct ten points for that eye captivating fall.” 

A chorus of laughter and gloves pounding against the plexiglas averted your attention for a split second, and the picture of an audience watching wasn’t much of an imagination as the whole hockey team stood by the entrance of the rink. 

You masked the expression of hurt and threw a glare towards the music booth planted between the penalty boxes. Rephrasing, you threw a glare at the guy inside the music booth. If there was anything figure skating couldn’t help you with, it was Song Mingi, the right defenceman of the Blue Wolves and the biggest douchebag known to mankind. The mankind in question was you.

“Piss off, Song. The rink is booked until 10 AM.”

The large man leaned into the mic, a smug grin on his stupidly handsome face, “Can’t do sweetheart. We have an upcoming match against the Red Tigers, so we need to practice.”

In three strokes you reached the worn out glass separating you two. 

“Listen here, punk,” you breathed out a cloud of fog. “I don’t care what you have or when you have it; the rink is occupied, so take your little pack of chihuahuas and fuck off!” 

Mingi made himself comfortable on the chair, hands intertwined behind his neck and long legs perched up on the desk. He was not going anywhere unless it was on that ice.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until you’re done.” 

“Wait, wait! He said what?!” 

In the midst of retelling the events of your morning, you were interrupted by Keeho. Everything about his judging tone told you he was more than disgusted at the new piece of information and a peek at his face — lips slightly curled, front teeth exposed, and eyes squinted — confirmed your suspicion. Keeho was very vocal with his opinions, vocal and bold, and you picked up on that in the short time you got to know him. That’s why you weren’t surprised to see his hands resting on his hips, adding that sprinkle of sass you both loved and despised. 

“Yes!” You exclaimed exasperatedly and bit into your spring roll. 

Choi Dasom, your roommate and childhood best friend, wore her signature sweet smile that made her cheeks chubbier and outshone her fiery red hair. She, unlike you and Keeho, was delighted to hear about your terrible morning, especially at the mention of the one-who-shall-not-be-named. 

“Wipe that grin off your face, Dasom.”

You squinted at her overly happy expression. There was no malice to your words and if it weren’t for your ten year long friendship she wouldn’t have mustered up an even bigger smile, showing off her pearly whites and dimples. No one could ever be mean to Dasom, one look at her round face and sparkly eyes, and they’d be wrapped around her pinky like a phone cord. She was just that cute. If they somehow managed to look past her cuteness then they'd have to deal with you or Keeho and that was never a pleasant outcome. 

The three of you sat criss crossed on the floor of your and Dasom’s shared apartment. An array of takeaway boxes littered the usually clean room as you caught up on each other’s lives; in other words, they listened to your venting about a specific hockey player.

“I just don’t see how this connects to your broken phone screen,” Keeho said and mentioned to the device beside you, sneakily hastening you to get to the ‘juicy part’ as he referred to it. 

Too blinded by the simmering anger you waltzed right into Keeho’s trap, granting him new gossip worthy material. Not that he had anyone to share it with besides the two of you, but he liked knowing everyone’s business, something you swore would come and bite him in the ass sooner or later.

“Well, my dear Keeho, wait til you hear the rest of the story.”

The heel of Mingi’s foot hit your phone, hurling it to the ground. A taunting ‘oops’ fell from his lips, but he stayed seated. 

“Are you kidding me!” You shouted from inside the rink. 

In a flash you were beside Mingi, inspecting your phone for any injuries. A big, singular crack stretched from one end of the screen to the other and you could feel invisible steam erupt from your ears. The phone survived so many concrete collisions and water incidents, but it obviously had to break at Mingi’s hand (or feet).

“Oh, did it crack?” 

Mingi stood up, eyes cast on the screen and hands shoved into his gray sweatpants. Not an ounce of concern or remorse crossed his features and you didn’t know what made you more angry - his nonchalance or mere presence.

“Did it crack? Did it crack?!”

“Alright, no need to shout.”

You knew after a full year of constant bickering and mean pranks that Mingi wasn’t all that well. Maybe he got one too many blows to the head, suffered far more concussions than convenient, who knew? 

You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt multiple times, which proved to be useless, and it took a broken screen for you to finally realize that. A curse so foul it would have his ancestors turning in their graves rested on your tongue, but as you opened your mouth, a puck aimed at your head was flung at the plexiglas, shutting you up in an instant. The same heinous laughs from earlier echoed around you, this time from inside the rink.

You stood there, phone in hand, and hopelessly stared at the sight before you.

Mingi watched the whole thing play out and didn't say a thing. Not that he had much to say, it was his idea from the start. The guys wouldn't stop complaining about you hogging the ice and the least he could do for his team was to get you off. That way he could also get his daily dose of prancing on your nerves. 

It was like killing two birds with one stone. 

Until he awkwardly stood there, contemplating whether to apologize or serve you with another snarky reply. 

He ran his hand through his ashy blonde hair. All the thinking was starting to tire him out and he just wanted to put on his skates and blow some steam off. You were being unfair. They needed the rink more than you, but you just couldn’t be nice and give in for once. 

“No hard feelings, princess.”

“Wow, he really is a dick,” Keeho muttered while examining your phone. “Well, I mean, we already knew that, but I didn’t think he’d be that much of a dick.”

You hummed in agreement as he passed the device to Dasom. 

“No, I’ve always known and I’ve been telling you guys so for the past year but no one listens to me.”

“Hey! I do and I’ve always agreed with you; it’s Dasom who’s being poetic and shit.”

The girl giggled at Keeho’s bluntness. “I’m not being poetic, Kyo. I just think there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

You and Keeho exchanged knowing glances, emotionless eyes and lips set into firm lines, silently agreeing she was tuning into her artistic side. Her smile, bright as ever, didn’t falter, and she simply shrugged before slurping down the last of her food. Keeho clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and flickered her forehead. 

“Wow, what happened to common decency? Table manners, hello?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. I saw you spit out that chicken,” you butted in with a roll of your eyes.

“It was all rubbery and– ugh. I can’t swallow that!” He defended himself while pointing at the overly chewed piece of chicken on his plate and pushing it closer to your face. You flinched back and hurled, the noise activating Dasom too, and soon you were all in a never-ending fit of retching.

“It’s the last time I let you bring a friend into our circle!” 

You recalled the day Dasom introduced you to Keeho and you’ve regretted it ever since, but there were moments you actually found joy in his company and they served as a reminder of why you put up with him in the first place. At the end of the day you still agreed to have study sessions at the library with his nose in a thick literature book and your fingers dancing across your keyboard.

“Can you, I don’t know, not abuse your laptop like that? I can’t concentrate with your loud fingers.”

“You sure it isn’t your thoughts keeping you distracted? I mean, I’d be too if my voice was that annoying.”

Keeho gifted you his signature glare, which you grew immune to. “Okay, first of all ouch and second of all, fuck you, my voice is not annoying or loud for that matter either.”

“Then go back to your reading.”

“I can’t,” he whined and closed his book with a thud, then slid his arm over the table, his cheek resting against his bicep with a pout.

A mere two hours passed since you met up outside the coffee shop closest to the university and not once did he shut up. From ordering your drinks to finding an empty table in the library his mouth worked and at first you saw it as a good thing, thinking he’d run out of things to talk about by the time you started studying. That lasted for about three hundred words in your essay.

“Keeho-ya, go back to reading. We still have some time before your shift starts.”

“I knooooow, but I’m tired and this shit’s boring me out.” 

You threw a quick glance at the book he was referring to, Animal Farm, and for once you understood him. The piece wasn’t the most interesting literature in the world and Keeho wasn’t that hard to entertain so it was pretty shit. Books based on real-life stories or romance themed novels were his favorites; anything other than that was a no-go and wouldn’t keep him occupied for more than five minutes.

“Why can’t we read The Outsiders instead? It’s so much better and more realistic. Like, when are pigs ever overthrowing the government?”

You snorted and pushed your laptop aside, taking the book in your hands. The cover did little to lure you in and it was no surprise that Keeho found it boring. He was like a child, giving his undivided attention to anything flashy and colorful. You quickly flipped through the pages and nearly passed out at the never-ending words before putting it back down. 

“I’m pretty sure Orwell’s talking about the Russian Revolution back in the nineteen-hundred and the pigs are supposed to represent Trotsky and Stalin.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s still boring and doesn’t really call out to me.” 

You hummed in understanding, “You don’t have much of a choice, Kyo. Read it or don’t; you’ll still have to write an essay about it.”

Keeho whined in agony and smacked his forehead against the table, once, twice and on the third smack you hit the back of his head with the book. He jerked back up and rubbed the spot you just whacked, his hand running through his black hair, doing little to soothe the pain.

“What was that for?!”

The librarian, a woman old enough to be your grandmother, shushed him from her desk. Icy eyes were shooting daggers through her half-rimmed glasses and if it weren’t for her age Keeho would challenge her with a glare of his own.

“What was that for?” He repeated but in a whisper, glancing between you and the librarian, checking to see if she heard him now.

“To get you motivated. Now, read,” you hissed and turned back to your work, purposely ignoring the stare of Ms. Bang. She wanted you to shush, then you’d damn well stay shushed.

Keeho sighed obnoxiously and stilled as his gust of air reached your face, but you held your ground and played it off as nothing. You knew if you showed any sign of irritation he’d just continue to annoy you until you caved in and left for the day. With your determination you managed to stay rooted to your seats for a while and if it weren’t for Keeho’s yelp about being late to work, you’d probably be there a little longer. Hastily you threw your stuff in your bag and ran out of the library with Keeho in tow. You didn’t miss the scowling look of Ms. Bang. Knowing she didn’t sign up to deal with annoying brats when applying for her job, you offered her a tight-lipped smile as an apology.

“Tell Dasom I need her help after work!” Keeho shouted and sprinted down the street, not bothering to wait for the reply you still gave him.

“Text her yourself!”

Nonetheless you whipped out your phone and as you were about to unlock it, your eyes fell on the four digitals showing 11:50 AM. A low ‘shit’ slipped past your lips and identical to Keeho, you took off running towards the training facility. 

If you weren’t dressed and ready for practice in the next ten minutes, it’d be better if you never showed up. Your coach had a set of ground rules he established the moment you were assigned his trainee fifteen years ago.

Come on time, be presentable and ready.

Have a clear and motivated attitude. 

And most important of all, trust your coach.

Jung Hoseok, your coach, wasn’t stern per se. He was a really sweet and kindhearted man who taught you everything you knew about figure skating — from gliding backwards to your first upright spin — you owed this man everything. Although he had a kind soul, a heart shaped smile and dimpled cheeks, you knew better than to defy him. After all, it wasn’t his thoughtful persona that brought him success. Courage, discipline and taking risks did. 

Summoning all the cardio exercises done in life, you managed to turn the seven minute journey into five, sparing enough time to change into your practice clothes and skates. The October wind did little to prepare you for the chilly temperature inside; your nose, cheeks and ears were painfully cold despite the thick scarf wrapped around your head.

“In time as usual,” Hoseok commented as you walked out of the changing room, a whistle dangling down his neck and eyes cast on the clipboard in his hands.

“I’d never dare be late for your practice, Coach.”

“And I take pride in that. Now get on the ice, we have a lot to do.”

With that you took off your pink guards and did a little stretching. Routinely you wiped your hands down your thighs, you liked to imagine it as a way of leaving any misfortune off the rink. It was a silly thing you did years ago and it stuck with you since then.

“Again!”

The rite must have lost its charm because everything was going to shit. Not once did you finish the whole number, messing it up halfway through and being forced to go from the top only to fail on the same part.

You huffed out a clouding breath of air and skated back to the center of the rink. Mr. Jung watched you from the sidelines, sporting a frown so big you wanted to cry. His nose faced the ceiling and his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn’t a good sign, how could it be when you were messing up big time? You shied away from his piercing eyes and took your stance, one arm elegantly thrown over your head that followed its direction. The other hand was professionally relaxed by your side and legs steady on the blades. You started slowly just as the video showed you a handful of times. Gliding backwards and forwards, your arms moved in swirls as you gradually picked up the pace. The first jump wasn’t anything extravagant, a simple triple-toe loop. 

Easy, you thought after landing and prepared yourself for the next takeoff. 

The video you watched with Mr. Jung showed a recording of him doing the Salchow jump going straight into a sit-spin as the music quickened. 

It was hard to move to the sound of nothing besides your own breathing and blades scraping against the ice. With music you could at least time yourself better and get lost in the world of imagination. You held your breath as you pushed up from the ice with your right foot, doing a light spin and landing on your other blade then snapped into a sitting position with your left leg connected to the ground. The other was stretched out with its heel facing outward and your arms stacked on top of each other straight out in front of you. After the sixth spin you graciously straightened out your skating leg and stood up, arms moving to your chest and then forward again as you checked out. 

You continued sliding around the rink, building up tension and fully catching the attention of the imaginary audience. Your dominant foot continued facing forward and the other turned in the opposite direction, legs squatting to form a square. The core of your body flexed as you arched your back, creating a ‘C’ with your whole being. Cold kisses ghosted along your neck and ears, fingers an inch from the ground. With little to no effort you snapped back into an upright position and prepared yourself for the highlight of the choreography — the part you couldn’t land — a triple axel. The second you saw Mr. Jung’s number, you knew you’d be struggling. You were a good skater, but not a magician. A triple axel would take a lot more than some wishful thinking and an hour of practice.

Did that knowledge lighten the burden on your shoulders? Not in the slightest.

Nonetheless you approached the jump with confidence, the key to every success in life, and  prepared yourself to jump. With a steady breath and enough speed you kicked up from the ice and rotated in the air; once, twice, and three times before gravity pulled you down, starting the landing phase. The blade of your skates skimmed the ice and just as you thought you had landed it, you became one with the ground. 

Your thigh took the majority of the fall, but it still hurt and if you didn’t know any better you’d think your femur was broken. With shaky legs you stood back up on your skates. A whispered curse slipped out as you rubbed your knuckles along your thigh. You didn’t know what hurt more; falling or failing. The sound of a whistle cut through the arena before you could take your starting position. You halted in place and turned to Mr. Jung who held the same solemn expression throughout the whole number. The walk from the center to him was short and your lips pursed in disappointment. He was cutting practice short. It rarely happened, some days you’d even go over time. 

“We’ll stop there for today. I’ll send you the choreography. Study it thoroughly and come mentally prepared next time because we’re not quitting til you land it.”

You fiddled with your fingers and nodded at his words. 

“Great, get some rest until then, yeah?” 

“I’ll stay a little longer.”

He raised a brow, slightly surprised at your spirit. After your last fall he was sure you’d be frustrated beyond belief, too tired to continue and too angry to give up. He smacked his lips, “Alright, one hour tops. Don’t overwork yourself. Resting is a slow way to success but it’s still a way.”

Before Mr. Jung completely took his leave, he turned to you one more time. “I’ll be back to take my things. If you’re still here by then I’ll make sure you don’t attend the competition at all, understood?”

You jumped into a military stance, back straight and fingers pushed against the side of your head.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

You deflated the moment his figure disappeared behind the big metal doors. After fifteen years of skating under his watchful eyes, you knew his threat wasn’t an empty promise. Leave it to Mr. Jung to make you anxious about the competition months before D-Day. You squished your cheeks between your hands and delivered two slaps to each side of your face.

“C’mon, focus.” 

Ten tries, ten fails and ten bruises later zero progress was made. One would think you’d do better without Mr. Jung’s breathing down your neck like a dragon, but there you were barely landing a single axel. You were one fail away from ripping your hair out.

“Fuck me sideways. What the fuck is my problem?”

Skating with a jumbled mind would do you no good, so with a quick breathing practice you pushed all your thoughts aside and tried again. You swore it would be your last try before going home. 

Starting position. Triple-toe loop. Salchow jump into a sit-spin. Double axel. 

The muscles in your thighs and abdomen burned, begging you to stop. Before you could plummet to your knees and throw a mini-tantrum, clapping sounds echoed in the silent hall. You jerked your head up with a scowl on your face. The person had to be taunting you; nothing about that was applause worthy.

The last person you expected to encounter on a Tuesday afternoon, let alone receive praise from, was Hwang Hyunjin. The prettiest guy on campus. He looked just like the day you first saw him, unbelievably handsome. The top half of his black hair was hiding beneath a beanie; the rest fell to his neck and some strands obscured his face. A face sculpted by Phidas himself. Pink plump lips, big eyes and a slim nose. Taking in his relaxed form, eyes quickly roving over his broad chest and down to his slim waist, you thanked the heavens that he wasn’t your coach. You wouldn’t survive one session with him leaning against the border, hands gripping the border and veins appearing on his pale forearms, eyes trailing after you. 

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as he waved. The charming smile he gave you warmed your cheeks as a smile of your own grew. It was no wonder girls swooned over him, he truly was beautiful and this was him dressed in a simple black shirt and tights. He looked even better dressed up. Inching closer to where he was, you grabbed the railing and held onto it for dear life. Your legs wobbled like Bambi on ice and you weren’t ready to fall flat on your ass in front of your crush and fellow figure skater. A timid ‘hi’ fell from your lips and your heart landed a perfect triple axel as he greeted you back.

“Your program is great.”

You giggled like a schoolgirl and bashfully looked away, and then back at him again. “It’s not even near what it’s supposed to look like.”

This was the most you said to each other in the span of a year. You never did much talking besides polite ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ coming and going from the rink yet you knew more about him than your childhood best friend.

“Really?”

You mustered up a nod, afraid to embarrass yourself with words.

“Do you mind if I join you then?”

Whatever you did in your past life to earn this must have been something noble, perhaps serving a king or saving a village from starvation. You nodded again, your lips perking up and eyes shining with excitement. As Hyunjin faced away from you to put his skates on, you buried your head in your hands and bit back a worrisome squeal.

“By the way I’m not like doing this to coach you or anything. I just thought you looked a bit… distracted and could use some help to loosen up.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better I could really use the help, coach or not.”

He huffed a soft chuckle at your honesty and skated to the center of the rink with you behind. 

“I’m happy to be of service.” 

He mockingly bowed and you allowed yourself to laugh, feeling your whole body heat up despite the cool arena air.

“Okay, so put this on.” 

Hyunjin handed you his beanie and your eyes widened as the rest of his hair fell around his face. You wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. You gently pinched the black material between your hands — even his clothes were soft to the touch — and put it on. Hyunjin hummed as it covered your ears and head, then he gingerly reached out and pushed it over your eyes. 

“Can you see anything?”

“No.”

“Perfect. Just stay right there,” he said, his blades cutting the surface grew more and more distant by the second. There was a lot of trust put in his hands and you were starting to feel foolish, standing there like a stick figure with an expensive cap covering your sight.

“Do you hear me?”

Your head snapped towards his voice and you nodded. 

“Okay, come find me.”

The whole time you cautiously moved along the slippery ice you couldn’t help but think how silly it must look for outsiders. You conclude that if it weren’t for Hyunjin and your stuttering heart, you’d never agree to this. He continued speaking out in the open, some sentences long and others consisting of a word or two. Getting the hang of skating blindfolded you sped up, arms stretched out in case of toppling over and as you were about to give up, your left hand came in contact with a warm surface.

Hastily you snatched the hat off your head and blinked fast at the bright lightning. Your heart stilled as you looked into Hyunjin’s scrunched eyes, a wide and dare you say proud smile overtaking his features. The cold air nipped at his rosy cheeks and nose, even his ears, and your fingers itched to cover them. 

“Found me,” he chuckled at your struck expression, parted lips and raised brows. “Wanna go again?”

The game continued for a few more rounds and with every new try you channeled your concentration better. On top of that you trusted your other senses to get you across the ice without flying head first. Best of all you weren’t as flustered around Hyunjin anymore. The eye contact lasted longer and you weren’t a stuttering mess. The last round was going great. It was your fastest game yet. As Hyunjin called your name you thrusted your arm out, practically flinging yourself forward. Your fingers clasped around the air and not the warmth of Hyunjin’s body you expected. A panicked gasp died in your throat as your feet flew under you and back gravitated towards the ground. You braced yourself — as much as one could do — for a concussion. Instead of feeling the hard ground, arms wrap around you. One hand resting between your shoulder blades and the other on your lower back.

“Gotcha,” Hyunjin whispered.

On instinct you grabbed his shoulders and pulled yourself closer to him, chests nearly touching and noses inches away. You could see a faint beauty mark below his eye, a feature you hadn’t known of before and heat rose to your cheeks at the sudden proximity. 

“You good?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out as he moved you upright, his hands respectfully resting against your hips while yours slid around his neck. Your head turned downward, too nervous to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth, but you didn’t get to hear what he had to say as an agitating voice beat him to it.

“So the princess finally found her prince.”

You jumped from Hyunjin’s hold, his hands falling to his sides, creating a space big enough for two other people between you with your head whipping towards the entrance where a familiar figure stood, tall and bulky. The sly smirk painting his chiseled face was a sharp contrast to your scowling lips and wrinkled nose.

“And I see you’ve yet to find your manners.”

Something about Song Mingi brought out the devil in you. 

“You just have to ask nicely or is that too hard for you?”

The fifteen equally bulky guys all dressed in red and black gear behind him laughed at his remark. Children, they were a bunch of children. 

You threw them a glare they were more than acquainted with and in a poor attempt at masking your embarrassment, you kept your head down and stomped out of the rink, and walked through the group of guys that separated like a shoal of fish afraid of a great white shark. With record speed you grabbed your stuff and bolted for the changing rooms. Not once did you stop to think about the beautiful figure skater you left behind as your mind was occupied with intriguing images of delivering punches to the whole hockey team, starting from the shortest to the tallest. 

Bag slung over your shoulder and hands tucked deep in the pockets of your jacket, you strutted out of the arena. There was no way you’d head home now. Dasom had a group project she’d work on until late and you didn’t feel like being alone knowing the violent sound of bodies colliding and pucks sliding across ice would taunt you in the silence.

The bell above the ice cream parlor dinged as you stepped inside. The pleasant smell of freshly baked cones and vanilla extract hit you hard. The customers inside brushed you off, too immersed in their milkshakes and desserts to care about a girl with a scowl. 

“Hello and welcome to Kim’s ice cream parlor. How can I help you this fine ev– what the hell are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, Kyo,” you greeted, dropping your bag on the floor by the counter seats. 

“Bad practice?”

“Try a bad day.”

You propped your elbows on the desk and tiredly leaned your chin on the palms of your hands. Keeho hummed, already preparing your usual order.

“Y’know I’m always up for some tea, but Jiung called in sick today so we’re one man short.”

You tried your best not to visibly deflate. The one time you needed to vent and get it out of your system no one was there. 

“That’s okay. S’nothing a banana split can’t fix, I guess.”

“Coming right up, sweetcheeks. It’s on the house just for you.”

New customers filled the little shop and you noticed your presence by the counter was still distracting Keeho so you did everyone a big favor and moved to a vacant seat by the big windows. The ice cream went down your throat and found its new home in your stomach. You’d usually be more strict with your food intake, having to be a certain weight and whatnot but some days just couldn’t be helped, especially when practice left you feeling like the biggest failure in the world and if that wasn’t enough then Mingi’s presence was a good enough reason to treat yourself.

Before taking your leave you sent Keeho a smile; he reciprocated and positioned his hand up to his cheek, the thumb and pinky finger extended in opposite directions. You chuckled at the gesture but nodded nonetheless. One way or another Keeho would end up hearing about your shitty day.

“Hello,” you called out as you gently threw your keys in the strawberry-shaped bowl — a housewarming gift by yours truly, Yoon Keeho — on the console table by the entrance.

“I’m in the kitchen!” 

You carelessly shrugged your coat off, allowing it to drop to the floor by your shoes and bag, before running off in her direction. Dasom softly hummed to a song playing on her laptop and you immediately relaxed as the melody reached your ears. There wasn’t a dent of worry in her life and you were grateful for that. At least one of you was in a good mood.

“Hey Dae-Dae,” you exhaled and plopped down on one of the four chairs around your dining table. 

Dasom wore a pink apron decorated with a big white heart over her knitted sweater and jeans, with a pair of matching mittens covering her hands. The apron was more for show than shielding her clothes from baking. 

“I’m baking cookies.” 

Minutes later you were sitting on the kitchen floor with a big plate of chocolate chip cookies between you and a cup of milk each. You picked up a cookie and moaned at its aroma of caramelized sugar and chocolate. Nevermind the banana split you inhaled twenty minutes ago, you were treating yourself for the rest of the night.

“How did the project go?” 

Dasom took a long sip of her milk trying to hide the way her lips curled upward. You nudged her thigh with your toe and wiggled your brows. 

“It’s exciting, a bit out of my comfort zone, but it’s still fun. We are actually working with the art majors. Everyone’s partnered with someone from the opposite class.” She dipped a cookie in her cup before continuing, “So the art majors have to write a poem about passion while we, creative writing majors, have to paint it.” 

“So the roles are reversed and how are you being graded on that exactly? Like no offense Dasom, but you kind of suck at drawing.”

“See that’s what I thought too, but the professors said we shouldn’t focus on how good our drawings are, but rather what it is we try to convey. Plus, they said we are paired up for a reason, so I guess we are supposed to ask each other for help?”

You hummed in understanding, it made more sense when she put it that way. “So who are you partnered with?”

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“The weird guy with the blue hair?”

“It’s black and white now, and he’s not weird, just… unobtrusive. Hongjoong’s actually kind,” she defended.

“Mmm, I don’t know Dae-Dae, it sounds awfully close to what you say about Mingi.”

Her invisible dog ears perked up and her tail wiggled excitedly from left to right. The hockey player was only ever mentioned after a run-in with the guy, both Keeho and Dasom knew that.

“Don’t keep me waiting!”

With another bite of your fourth cookie you spilled everything like an overflowing bucket. Starting from the study session to the unsuccessful practice and Hoseok’s disappointed look to the sweetest and most unreal moment with Hyunjin that was later ruined by Mingi–

“Oh my God!” 

Dasom dropped her cookie and jerked back, not expecting you to shriek like a banshee. “What?!”

The sudden realization of whose presence you forgot in the rink hit you like a truck. An uncomfortable heat twisted your guts as your thoughts began to spiral. You buried your head in your hands and as if that wasn’t enough he witnessed you explode on the whole hockey team, heard Mingi’s embarrassing taunts and watched you run out. 

“My outburst! I completely forgot about Hyunjin!”

“Oh…”

A silence settled over the kitchen. Neither of you knew what to say because what could one say in moments like these? A pat on the back and a somber smile would suffice although it wouldn’t ease your worries. A few seconds passed and Dasom eventually cleared her throat.

“You know what could be even worse? Like the cherry on top?”

Like a child, you peeked from behind your fingers. Eyes heavy and lips in a pout, “What?”

“Starting your period.”

Your childhood friend possessed an extravagant vocabulary with a cupboard full of advanced words and phrases. She could easily go on a poetic rampage about how you should see things from the brighter side or that some things happen for a reason. Yet she settled on a simplicity she knew would make you crack a smile.

“Amen to that.” 

You clinked your cups in a toast and downed the rest of the liquid like a shot. Milk clung to your upper lips like a childish white mustache and you broke out in laughter, pointing a finger to your index finger pointed at each other’s faces.

“I was thinking–”

“Uh oh, that never ends well.”

Dasom pouted and delivered a soft kick to your thigh. “Anyway, I was thinking we could have a girls’ night on Friday. Keeho’s invited too, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you chimed.

“We can paint our nails, watch movies and eat a lot of snacks. Whatcha say?”

Mentally picturing the schedule of the week, you figured you’d need a day off and agreed to her idea. 

The sharp noise of a whistle blew through the arena and the eighteen guys clad in hockey gear and skates gathered along the centerline. The first half of the players got into position and awaited the second signal from their coach while the rest of the team stood behind their designated partner. As the high-pitched sound cut through the silence, the first batch bolted from their marks and the remaining guys shimmied closer to the line.

There were a lot of fun things about hockey, like boarding your opponent or shutting down their offenses. The lesser good was receiving penalties or a game misconduct, but the absolutely worst thing about hockey was the cardio exercises. 

When Mingi signed up for hockey practice at the age of five, he didn’t think much would come out of it. He was too uncoordinated with his legs to play soccer and his towering height didn’t make him any better at basketball either, but hockey on the other hand… Everyone was clumsy when it came to skating on ice. Like newborn foals, they were all shaking on their skates with hockey gear too big for their little bodies and barely able to locate the puck through the grid on their heads, Mingi managed just fine. The gnawing thoughts of standing out and being the worst amongst his peers wasn’t something little Mingi entertained anymore. Instead, he focused on growing and being better at the sport he actually enjoyed playing. As he got older, hockey got more serious and his interest for the sport broadened. His role model changed from his dad to Kim Kisung, and his big collection of Pokemon cards was replaced by hockey ones instead.

The dunk of a gloved hand collided with his back and Mingi took off like a rocket. He wasn’t the fastest or the most agile on the team, but he was great at using his height to crush explosive little wingers and it was the secret recipe of what kept him able to go for so long in games. There was no bigger joy than putting a stop to other’s plays and when there wasn’t anyone to stop or pucks to steal, the hockey Mingi loved was something he loathed. The ripping and slicing of multiple blades on ice sounded through the arena and despite working out five out of seven days of the week, Mingi still felt out of breath as he stopped a few steps over the centerline.

“A new lap is added for each player that slows down!” The old man standing by the entrance barked. 

Mingi could feel all eyes turn to him and if he wasn’t so busy catching his own breath, he’d gift them all with a good ol’ ‘go fuck yourselves’. 

“You heard the man, Song. Don’t let him catch you slowing down.” 

Turning his head to the right, the smug face of Jungkook came into view. Jungkook was a prime example of little wingers Mingi expertised in crushing. The player (both off and on court) behaved like the youngest of the team, despite being one of Mingi’s seniors, which gave him immunity to everyone’s wrath.

“Don’t make me remind you how it’s to be sent flying into the borders, JK.”

Throwing a quick glance at their coach, Jungkook smacked Mingi in the back of his head, which did little to no damage and only meant the helmet was doing its job of protecting Mingi from concussions. 

“It’s Jungkook-hyung for you, brat.”

“Song! Jeon! Less talking, more skating!” 

There was in fact not less talking and more skating, and the penalty resulted with three more laps for the rest of the team and a bunch of curses hurled at the instigators. 

“I don’t get why you just don’t ignore him,” Intak complained as he wrapped a white towel around his waist and ran his hand through his wet strands. 

Mingi followed suit, his own towel similarly tied around his waist and another smaller one thrown over his head soaking up the water dripping from his hair. 

“You know how he is,” Mingi defended and plopped down on the bench to easier rummage through his bag for a change of clothes. “He’d just say something else until I finally explode.”

“I know, but bro, we’ve been doing bag skates for weeks now. One of you has to give in and it’s gotta be you.”

Living up to his zodiac sign, Mingi was awfully stubborn and a sore loser, there was no way he’d ever let up. 

“Yeah, sure I might as well let him trample all over me while we’re at it.”

Intak, who moved over to the square mirror attached to the wall, caught Mingi’s eyes in the reflection and his own widened as an imaginary light bulb popped over his head. Adjusting his red cap — a stark contrast to his bleached hair — he turned around and his mouth formed into a suppressed smirk that looked something between puckered lips and a smile. Weirded out by the smuggish-look on his friend’s face, Mingi reeled back and raised a brow.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason, no reason at all.”

“He probably just clocked why that figure skater puts up with your dumb shit,” Matthew or BM, as everyone referred to him as, answered and plopped down on the vacant spot between them.

BM was one of the guys who challenged Mingi in both height and mass. They were similar in body proportion, but BM carried more muscle and had a few years on him, not to mention he was a force to be reckoned with in the defense zone. Definitely a key player of the Blue Wolves. 

“Puts up with my dumb shit?”

“Yeah, all that teasin’ and makin’ fun of her.”

Scratching the back of his head, Mingi didn’t quite get what they meant. He wasn’t really making fun of you per se. They were just harmless jokes and, well, you did actually hog the rink for the past few weeks and you were so easy to rile up. 

Throwing a black hoodie over his head, BM filled the silence that came with Mingi’s thinking. “I get she’s cute, but we’re past that boys-pick-on-girls-they-like typa bullshit.”

“I don’t think she’s cute,” Mingi retaliated.

“Nah, every girl is a lil cute and that one is definitely cute.”

“What’s this? Tea time and you don’t invite the Jeon Jungkook?” The winger threw an arm around Mingi’s shoulder, and a whiff of fabric softener and pear reached his sinuses.  

“Didn’t need to, we knew you’d invite yourself anyway,” Mingi muttered and jabbed a thumb into the older’s side that immediately freed him from the unpleasant hold.

Jungkook scrambled to the opposite side, legs spread wide and forearms falling back on the wooden railing of the bench. 

“Don’t be mean just because you can’t talk to girls like the rest of us.”

Growing more agitated the longer the conversation went on, Mingi threw his stinky jersey at Jungkook and snapped, “The fuck you mean I can’t talk to girls?”

“Last time I checked, you don’t need to fuck up a girl’s phone to get her number, but I do have to say it’s an interesting technique. Tell me how it goes for ya, why don’t you?” Jungkook scrunched the shirt into a ball and threw it back at its owner, who caught it with ease. 

“Oh, fuck you. It was an accident.”

Another arm wrapped around Mingi’s neck and his face was pushed up against a clothed torso. The unpleasant and slightly painful feel of someone’s knuckled rubbing against the top of his head pulled out a string of winces.

“First you can’t talk to girls and now you’re disrespecting your elders? C’mon, Mango, don’t make me hand you your ass,” BM threatened with a grin, showing off his overly white teeth.

“Yah, that hurts!” Mingi somehow managed to escape BM’s iron grip and caressed his hair back into place.

“Serves you right, you punk.”

“I think Jungkook-hyung’s right though. Like, don’t you think it’s a bit excessive? I mean, yeah she’s annoying and shit, but dude, fucking up her phone?” Intak voiced as he zipped up his jacket and slung his bag around one shoulder.

“It was an accident and it’s not like I’m the only one to blame. You guys were in on it too!”

The deep chuckle of Jungkook diverted everyone’s attention to him. “We agreed on you distracting her, not destroying her things, baby chick. She’s better than me, if I was her and a guy did that to me, I’d be fuming.”

“Yeah, but what about that time she spilled apple juice on my shirt. On my favorite shirt!”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t taken the last drink, her favorite drink in fact, what was it again?”

“Strawberry milk,” Mingi answered without missing a beat and had everyone taken back at the quick reply.

“...Anyway, as I was saying. If you hadn’t taken the last of her favorite drink in the cafeteria, she wouldn’t have poured the apple juice all over you.”

“So that excuses it!?”

BM stood up with Intak and Jungkook in tow, all dressed and ready to leave except for Mingi who still sat in his boxers and just a pair of socks on his feet.

“Considering you’ve been a douche toward her… Yes, yes it does,” BM answered and tucked the hood over his neon green hair.

“When was I a douche toward her?”

“Jeez, I don’t know how ‘bout the time she nearly fell on her ass and you made that whole prince charming comment. What was that about anyway?”

Jungkook butted in and leaned against BM. “Yeah, what was that about? You jealous of the prince snatching your girl, Song?”

“She’s not my girl and I’m not jealous of a guy doing some loops on ice and calling it a sport…”

The rowdy boys quietened down at the sudden jab. Books and movies presented hockey players to have a burning hatred for figure skaters, and while that could be true, it wasn’t necessarily amongst the Blue Wolves. They didn’t really care all that much about the sport or the athletes, but they knew the amount of hard work and effort that went into figure skating, making it a hobby far more respected than soccer. They also knew that Mingi wasn’t really thinking that and only let his fiery thoughts get the best of him. Nonetheless, it wasn’t cool and while they were already on the path of calling him out, why not follow through.

“No need to be a dick, Hyung.”

Jaw going slack, Mingi threw his hands out towards Intak. “So I get shit for calling you guys nicknames, but he gets to outright call me a dick?!”

“Did he lie tho?”

One after another, they left the changing room with Jungkook getting the last word.

“Better hurry, baby chick, or you’ll be late for class! Remember, girls may like dicks, but not when you’re acting like one.”

Balancing between schoolwork and perfecting the triple axel, you hadn’t even noticed how quickly Wednesday and Thursday flew by. Keeho burst through your door with grocery bags in his hands and a giggly Dasom hot on his heels, a little Hello Kitty tote bag hanging off her shoulder.

“Bow down bitches, bow-bow down bitches!”

Quite literally you fell off the sofa, legs tangled in your soft blanket and some drool on the side of your face. 

“What the–”

“Wake up sleepyhead, it’s time to partyyyy,” Keeho hollered and raised the plastic bags in the air. The various bottles of alcohol, chips and popcorn reminded you what day it was.

While Dasom and Keeho prepared things in the kitchen, you were ushered to the bathroom to ‘wash the drowsiness away’ as Keeho worded it. They lasted five minutes without creating chaos and by the time you returned Keeho was sliding across your kitchen with his pink fuzzy socks on, dancing to Lady Gaga’s Monster while Dasom whipped together a peanut butter cookie batter.

You were still not entirely awake and couldn’t decide if everything was just a crazy dream or not. Without giving it another thought you threw a bag of dried kernels into your microwave and helped Dasom with the baking.

“Oh, can you like make this pinky have a red heart and the other a green one?” 

Dasom nodded at Keeho’s question and gently blew on his white nails. You watched them from your seat on the couch, patiently waiting for your turn. Keeho lay on his stomach, legs dangling in the air, and Dasom sat in a pretzel position with various nail polishes and pearls scattered in small bowls on the floor.

“We are having so much fun you guys.”

“Stay still please.”

“Sorry, Dae-Dae.”

A game of rock-paper-scissors decided who painted whose nails. You groaned as Keeho won and chose Dasom to fix his, leaving your fingers in his hands. It was no surprise that Keeho’s turned out to be the prettiest and yours the ugliest. Out of the three of you, he was the shittiest artist with Dasom as a close second but at least her hands were steady.

“Okay, as the winner I say we watch Coraline.”

“Slow down, you won for the nails not the movie.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh! Dasom tell him.”

After another game of rock-paper-scissors and another victory for Keeho, you had no choice but to put the movie on despite your protests about Halloween being a month away.

“It’s probably a shit movie anyway,” you said and leaned into Keeho’s side, repositioning your head so it was comfortable against his shoulder. Dasom found herself in a similar position on the other side. You each cradled a bowl of popcorn and chips.

“...You haven’t seen Coraline?”

“Uhm, was I supposed to?”

“Were you supposed to?! I should smack you right into the Other World with your Other Mother!” 

Your brows rose at his comment. A bit confused as to what this Other World was and why he referred to your mom as the Other Mother.

“Smack me and I’ll have the cops on you faster than you can say–”

“Big boobs?”

A pinch of his bicep between your thumb and forefinger quickly shut him up and Dasom took it as her cue to dim the lights and start the film. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, sure it was a bit sad, dramatic and hectic even, but not enough to work your tear ducts.

“Honestly speaking, and I mean honestly speaking, the Other Mother is kinda hot.”

“I wish you knew when to shut up.” You pushed Keeho and stuffed his mouth with popcorn. Dasom giggled at how quick the atmosphere changed, but then shushed you as the movie took a dark turn.

“Ya, ya. Whatever.” Keeho stood up and cracked his back before turning the lights back on, completely ignoring Dasom’s whiny protests. “You know what this calls for? Some driiiiinks!” 

In seconds the night turned from a chill girls’ night to a full blown party.

A widely popular song blasted from Keeho’s portable speaker and he couldn’t help but swing along to the sound. His ears were a burning red after two bottles of soju, but the rest of his face was white as snow. Dasom, on the other hand, looked pretty flushed all over. Her cheeks were as red as her hair and she could barely stand up without falling on her ass. She was alright though, her never ending giggles told you that. She was a cute drunk, unlike Keeho who was crazy and had you constantly reminding him why he couldn’t twerk on your coffee table.

“Y’know…” Keeho flung his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. The sweet smell of strawberry soju on his tongue was pleasant to your nose. “Hyunjin asked about you today.”

The statement immediately sobered you up and the dizziness wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. They both saw a spark of hope light up in your eyes and Dasom ‘oohed’ as you whipped your head towards Keeho. You licked your lips and dried your clammy hands on your trousers. 

The only thing they had in common was being seniors and last time you checked Keeho wasn’t acquainted with any of Hyunjin’s friends either. They had no reason to converse — one being an arts major and figure skater while the other was studying English literature and was a cheerleader — besides you.

“Really?”

He hummed and sluggishly continued talking, you could barely make out what he was saying. “He ash-ked if you were-rer alrigh-t.”

Another teasing hoot came from Dasom which Keeho chimed in on with a squeeze to your shoulder. Your face burned and you knew damn well it wasn’t because of the alcohol flowing through your veins. 

“An–and what did you say?” You fanned your face. It was really getting hot in there and Keeho’s clinginess wasn’t helping you.

As the song faded into the next one Keeho gasped at the familiar lyrics coming from the speakers and immediately untangled himself from you to turn the volume up.

“I love this song!” 

He grabbed Dasom by her hands and twirled her around the room, her childish giggles mixing in with the funky beat and Keeho’s loud singing. In any other circumstance you’d be angry at how absentminded he was, but the boy gave you some good information and was thus easily forgiven. The thought of Hyunjin asking about you was surreal. You were certain your prissy attitude would change his perception of you — whatever that was you didn’t know — but apparently not. More heat crawled up your spine, making your cheeks burn uncomfortably. You pressed your cold hands to your face in an attempt to cool down. 

Your mouth broke out into a huge grin when it finally dawned on you. 

Hyunjin asked about you. Hyunjin asked about you. Hyunjin asked about you. 

The rest of the night was a blur and some moments were faintly secured in your memory. You remember dancing, singing, laughing and drinking. A lot of drinking. A never-ending buzz sounded through the whole apartment. With a moan of agony you pulled the covers over your head and snuggled violently against the cushions of the sofa. Suddenly it went quiet and you exhaled in relief. Thinking you’d be able to squeeze in another hour of sleep, you turned around only to groan again as the noise came back.

“Why do you have the alarm on? It’s Saturday,” Keeho said, a tint of annoyance in his grogginess.

“I have to… meet up for ah… projec–th. Can’t be late.”

Whoever invented alcohol should be charged with decapitation for not inventing a cure for hangovers.

“What the hell did you put in our drinks, Kyo?” You arose from your position on the couch, lightly clutching your throbbing head. All your limbs ached and you wished the world would go back to sleep again. 

“Uh– don’t ask me. I don’t even know my name right now.”

The rest of the morning was spent puking and shuffling with blankets wrapped around you like tortillas. None of you were up for small talk, the hangover clung to you like never before and you collectively blamed Keeho for buying so much soju. 

“Oh, shut it. You’re at least well enough to talk. Poor Dae-Dae can’t even open her eyes.”

Said girl grunted out a noise of agreement and gratitude as Keeho gently placed a wet rag on the upper part of her face. True to his words, Dasom was faring the worst. She always struggled with alcohol, both in downing it and the aftermath.

“You shouldn’t drink if you’re going to be this cranky,” you said matter-of-factly and massaged Dasom’s calves.

He gave you a nasty look and rolled his eyes. “Whatever! I’m taking a shower, losers.”

“What a douche.” 

Dasom grunted again, her way of telling you to be nice. 

“Yeah, yeah, go back to sleep or you’ll drool all over your project.”

As the minute hand showed five minutes to eleven you gathered all the empty soju bottles in a bag and gave them to Keeho, a polite way of kicking him out, and then pushed Dasom to take a shower before she took her leave. With those two out of your hair, you turned to the living room and took in the sight of chaos. There were crumbs, glitter and drops of alcohol on the floor and coffee table, nail polish everywhere and nowhere, and dishes in places you never thought you’d see. You pulled back the invisible sleeves of your nightgown and began cleaning up the mess. On a positive note you didn’t have to throw the trash out and could immediately start with the dishes. Then you vacuumed the living room after wiping down every crevice you could reach and continued into the bathroom. To your luck Keeho didn’t puke his intestines out, only Dasom who still had a sense of direction in her hazy state so the toilet seat wasn’t drenched in her stomach acid and lunch. While you were at it you changed the sheets in your bedroom and loaded the washing machine with clothes from your and Dasom’s bedrooms.

At last you too jumped in the shower and stayed there until the warm water ran out. With a tub of ice cream and a towel wrapped around your head, you relaxed in bed. A fresh set of pajamas clung to your body as you wiggled under the clean covers. God, how you missed your bed and privacy. 

By the time you were done with the ice cream and two movies of a random trilogy, the sky turned a pretty dark color which reminded you of last night’s shenanigans. You glanced down at your fingers and laughed at the badly painted nails. The second Keeho laid eyes on the dark blue nail polish — or galaxy blue according to him — he announced his masterplan; a galaxy theme. The first coat was alright, but then as he got his hands on the silver glitter everything went downhill. Your nails were uneven, some having more blue and others drowning in glitter. There was nothing you could do about it or he’d sulk for a week straight, claiming you weren’t a real friend and favored Dasom over him which wasn’t not true but he didn’t need to know that.

As you started the third movie your phone went off with a ding. Your heart fluttered inside your chest when you picked up the phone and saw who was disturbing your ‘me-time’.

Unknown ID [07:35 PM] hey it’s hyunjin

The spoon full of melted ice cream slipped from your hands right onto your lavender sheets. A low ‘fuck’ echoed in the room at the same time as you received one more message.

Unknown ID [07:35 PM] keeho gave me your number

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss his cheeks or strangle him. Partially grateful, partially annoyed. Grateful Keeho had half a mind to slip Hyunjin your number and was annoyed that he completely forgot to tell you about this little piece of information during his drunken dancing.

With shaky hands you tapped in a reply and immediately facepalmed as you hit the send button.

You [07:39 PM] Hi Hyunjin :3

Before you could rip your hair out at the choice of emoticon, the front door opened and a cheery Dasom stumbled into your bedroom with rosy cheeks and hair slightly disheveled, looking like a combination of flustered and cold that you didn’t put a lot of thought into. 

Cutting right to the case, you said, “Hyunjin texted me.”

She let out a squeal of pure joy and leapt onto your bed, her heavy book bag forgotten on the tidy floor as she pried noisily on your phone.

Hyunjin [07:40 PM] you up for another practice tgt?

“Say yes, say yes, say yes, say yes!” She shook your arm violently, phone barely staying in your hands.

You [07:40 PM]  That’d be nice

The device was flung across your bed, landing face down as you both sat in silence. It lasted for five seconds until another message came through. You cast a glance at Dasom who was already looking at you, and then in slow motion you both dove for the phone. She landed on top of you, nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs, but you came out the winner with your hands wrapped around the phone.

“I’m scared,” you confessed and pulled the phone up to your chest. A nervous smile tugged at your lips. 

“Just look!” 

Hyunjin [07:42 PM] you free this friday, 9 am?

You angled the screen so Dasom could look too. 

“What do I say?”

“What do you say?” She smiled. “Yes, of course!”

“I mean obviously, but how do I say it? I don’t want to come off too excited.”

She gestured grabby-hands and you handed her the phone. Her thumbs flew across the digital keyboard and she bit down on her bottom lip, suppressing her giggles. You’d be giggling with her if it wasn’t your fate in her hands. She returned the phone and dashed to her room. 

You [07:42 PM] Lucky you, I can just squeeze you into my packed schedule

Hyunjin [07:43 PM] see you then busy girl

You scanned the message twice to make sure you read it correctly. 

“Dasom!”

Her childish giggle could be heard all the way from her room and if it weren’t for your heart almost bursting out of your chest you’d show her a thing or two about loyalty. Instead you hid under the covers. A big, warm tingling sensation filled your stomach and spread to your beating organ. You couldn’t stop thinking about the messages, picturing Hyunjin saying those things in real life. It had you kicking your feet like those lovesick girls in movies and you didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night.

If fifteen years of school taught you anything it was to never have high expectations. Big dreams and hopes were destined to be crushed and you could confidently vouch for that, yet there you were; with your head in the clouds and heart on your sleeves thinking this week would be the best week of your life.

As if sensing happiness floating in the lecture hall, your professor burst your bubble with one decision. The essay he assigned for Saturday was moved to Friday with the deadline at twelve PM. Your original plan of doing absolutely nothing all week and writing it in one sitting on Friday was already altered because of Hyunjin and now you had to change it again. Instead of spending your Wednesday morning huddled in bed with a warm beverage watching the latest episode of your new kdrama, you were in the library under the watchful eyes of Ms. Bang.

The library was full of students. You stood idly by the door and scanned the room for a vacant seat or table to squeeze into. Finals were just around the corner and everyone had the great idea of revising material before and after school hours. At last you found an empty table big enough for two and quickly skirted around the hoard of people, praying to reach it before anyone else.

A confetti popper went off in your head as you sat down. All you had to do now was get started which was easier said than done. The caret on the blank document ticked like a bomb, reminding you of the time you wasted thinking about nothing yet seeming so deep in thought. With narrowed eyes and lips in an angry pout, no one dared to occupy the chair in front of you.

That no one turned into someone.

You didn’t feel them sit down in the vacant seat. You didn’t see them, too occupied having a stare-off with your laptop. One moment there was no one there and the next moment a six foot-something tall hockey player plopped down from the sky, probably being outcast from heaven.

“You good there, princess?”

You reeled back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected presence. Mingi grinned at your reaction and sat back. Very satisfied with his work. As he readied his own computer, you took in his appearance and found yourself growing more irritated. There was no denying that he was attractive. Thick pink lips, a straight and sharp nose and a very prominent jaw. His brown eyes were surprisingly relaxed and didn’t resemble those of a fox. The boy was even blessed with not one, but two moles. You huffed as he made the moss green knitted sweater look good, even though it was ugly.

You sighed and kissed your teeth, “Why are you here?”

Although he tried acting offended, the sly smirk he didn’t bother hiding told you otherwise. You averted your gaze back to your computer. His face was starting to annoy you.

“What do you mean?” He asked ever so innocently.

“This table, my table. Why are you here?”

“The library is a public space and I’m here to study.”

You chuckled as if it were funny. “Since when do you study, Song?”

“Careful, princess or I’ll think you’re interested in me. Asking all these questions, what’s next you’ll ask for my phone number?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Mingi leaned on the table and rested his sharp chin against the palm of his hand. He suggestively ran his fingers through his creme colored highlights and grinned wolfishly. 

“Your place or mine?”

Your knee hit the underside of the table jarring Mingi’s water bottle. Pain flared and you bit back a wince, hastily rubbing against the jeans-clad skin. You didn’t miss the aggravated look Ms. Bang gave you. 

“I’ll take that as a no.”

The glare you shot him worked like a domino effect as he raised one brow menacingly asking, “What did I do?”

“If you’re gonna sit here then be quiet. I’m only tolerating you for so long, Song.”

“Didn’t peg you for a rapper, princess.”

“Don’t,” you drove your feet into his shin, “call me that.” 

The table jerked again — twice as much — and you received yet another disapproving stare from the librarian, but you didn’t care. The revenge was satisfying and you couldn’t help but marvel at his temporary pain. Your first thought as he sat down was that you’d be at each other’s throats, but to your surprise there wasn’t any bloodshed. Silence took over the table as you both worked diligently, and it was only possible because you were still ignoring each other’s presence. Sometimes you’d peek at him and be taken back at how calm and gentle he looked. The smirk you despised was nowhere to be seen, his lips parted in concentration and his eyes were void of any malice. They were warm like your morning coffee and as soft as the sand on Daecheon Beach.

“Is my handsome face distracting you?”

Then the thin line between tolerating and accepting was blurred, leaving you to work with nothing.

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah, you are. Especially at night…when I’m alone with no one to fix my–”

“I swear to God if you don’t shut the fuck up,” you hissed through your teeth and slammed your hand on the table.

The ruckus was drowned out by the sound of multiple fingers tapping against keyboards and the haste of flipping pages, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ms. Bang. She hushed you with a long ‘shhh’ and you gulped and sank in your seat with Mingi’s broad figure hiding you from her. The woman probably hated you by now. If it wasn’t Keeho who got you into trouble then it was some other idiot.

You couldn’t stand Mingi and he lived to annoy you, but there was an unspoken understanding to put your differences aside for the time being. With another try, you returned to the empty screen and he went back to his. The silent and unofficial pact lasted for a hot minute.

“You know, I don’t usually have a thing for feisty girls but–”

You shut your eyes and sighed heavily. He was really testing your patience which wasn’t anything new really, but he was extra persistent today.

“–you were kinda hot like that. All angry and snappy, and that thing you did with your lips. Right, just like that!”

You sneered in disgust. This was the chance for Dasom and Keeho to prove their friendship because you were about to murder him and someone had to pay for your bail.

“Go back to your mediocre porn and keep your weird fantasies away from me.”

“You know me so well, angel. Wanna re-enact it? The one I usually watch has your hair color.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

Everyone stopped at the sudden outburst. It felt like a spotlight was cast over your table, like you were the lead in a play. The click-clack of Ms.Bang’s kitten heels moved fast along the tiled floor and you knew you were fucked. The gray haired woman reached your table and peered down at you with so much venom that it could make a flower wilt. 

“It’s the third time you’ve disturbed the peace in my library. I’ll kindly ask you to pack your things and leave or I’ll have to call security. I’m thoroughly disappointed in you, young lady.”

You felt embarrassed, face hot as you stood up and bowed sharply, “I’m so sorry, Ms. Bang.”

“And you, Mister. You’d think a grown man would have more respect for himself and those around him. I want both of you out, right this instance.”

Much like you, Mingi got up — albeit a bit slower — and bobbed his head up and down, muttering a quiet apology. Whispered murmurs spread through the library as the students resumed their studies. You hastily took your things and darted outside, not sparing anyone any glances. Ms. Bang didn’t return to her post until she witnessed you both walk out the door.

Fuck Mingi. Fuck Ms. Bang. Fuck your professor. Fuck the essay–

“Would you wait up?”

The man you wanted to see least of all stopped in front of you. Curse him and his long legs.

You peered up at him. The audacity of this guy. “No, Mingi. I don’t want to slow down because I don’t want to look at you! Let alone wait up.”

“Okay, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal,” he mumbled and scratched the back of his neck. Things were getting out of hand and he wasn’t used to seeing you this mad.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down. You got me kicked out of the library, in front of everyone! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!”

“Hey, I was kicked out too!”

“You’re a guy! No one cares about you, but me? My reputation could be ruined, they’ll see me as a delinquent!”

“Oh, get over yourself. You were kicked out of the library, not arrested for snorting coke.”

Your tongue poked the side of your cheek. “You’re a real fucking asshole.” 

You cursed your voice for wobbling and stepped around him, continuing your walk home. Mingi stood rooted to the ground and watched as you stormed off. He clicked his tongue and went the other way. 

You were blowing things out of proportion. Who cared what people thought of you anyway? Stopping by a red light and staring off into nothing, he tried wrapping his head around your logic. You were a figure skater — a performer — you needed to grow thicker skin. People would always judge you, both on and off the rink. How could you be so easily affected by a measly little hag? Mingi blew out an air of frustration. You really were something else. 

The red light was running longer than usual and he was growing more impatient with each passing second. Mingi patted the front of his hair and thought back to the conversation with his friends.

“No need to be a dick, Hyung.”

The seven-word-long sentence struck a chord in him. Too blinded by his own bruised ego, Mingi didn’t want to believe his faults that day in the locker room, but as a sour, unripe apple faded into a deep red, Mingi too matured and realized he was in fact acting like a dick. It was clear his words hurt you, it was evident from the slight timber in your voice. A tone he was all too familiar with from his childhood days. A snivel he let out trying to suppress his childish tears from countless scraped knees and bee stings. A voice so suffocating and uncomfortable, as if a thick ball was shoved down his windpipe. He hated it — the feeling of not being able to breathe, being in control of his own body — even as he transitioned into his adult years. 

A heavy weight dropped in his stomach at the thought of you feeling that way because of him.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Mingi hastily turned around and awkwardly jogged back to where he last saw you. Slowing down by the entrance gates of the local library, he caught a glimpse of your angry-walking figure among the sea of students. Eyes set on you, his feet moved on their own and skillfully avoided the people. Right as he parted his lips to call for you, something hard rocked right into his chest or the other way around, Mingi wasn’t sure. Tearing his sight from you and at the person that was the equivalent of a brick wall, Mingi opened his mouth to apologize only to stop mid word.

“You good there, Song?”

What was it with people addressing him with his last name. His parents did give him a real name for a reason. 

Hate was a strongly charged word and from a young age, Mingi never felt hatred towards anyone. The closest thing he’d come to hate was dislike. He disliked bugs and vegetables, and he really disliked cardio. 

That was until he met Bang Chan, the winger of Red Tigers — a hockey team under TOP University — and also the most annoying man in the world. Mingi hated Chan with a burning passion. Was it because of something childish? Probably. Would Mingi ever admit it? Probably not.

“What’s it to you, Chris?”

If it weren’t for Mingi’s towering height making him look years older than Chan, passersby would have shot him a dirty look for the lack of honorifics used, but Mingi didn’t care. Honorifics were made to show a clear difference in hierarchy and nowadays it was to show respect to either elders or superiors. Mingi held no respect for the shrimp of a man and Chris wasn’t a superior in his eyes.

Chan chuckled and ran his hand through his blonde locks. “Considering I don’t really give a fuck about you, I’d say nothing.”

The grit of Mingi’s teeth clashing against each other and sharpening his jaw, had a cocky smile spreading across Chan’s face. 

“Oh, don’t say you thought I was worried about you.” 

The day Mingi first met Chan was right before a game between the Blue Wolves and Red Tigers. The younger had been told about the talented winger, warned of his skills and malicious ways of getting under people’s skin. Being still relatively new to the team, Mingi heeded the words of his seniors and promised to stay cool headed and free from penalties. The promise lasted for a good ten minutes into the first period until Mingi sprung into action, violating a handful of rules and knocking Chan off his skates. Each and every game after that where the two hockey players simultaneously skated the rink was a brawl waiting to happen.

“The only time I think of you is either with a broken nose or a losing score.”

“So you do think of me. Well I’d say I’m flattered, but you're not really my type, Song. I’m more into lanky boys with freckles and not whatever it is you are.”

Violence was never the answer, was what a lot of educational books said, yet they could never explain the therapeutic release of pent up anger that released as Mingi’s fist would connect with the winger’s face.

Eyes steering away from Chan’s cheesed ones, Mingi pinpointed you moving further and further into the crowd, slowly weaving and blending in with the other people. While he wasn’t all that keen on talking with you — still having a trouble making out what he was going to say — he’d rather stand empty minded before you and not entertain the clown in front of him. Besides, if acted out of line his seniors would never let him live it down, maybe even go the great length of convincing their coach to keep him benched for the rest of the season.

“I don’t have time for you, Chris. We’ll settle everything on the ice, until then stay the fuck away from me.”

Shoulders colliding and their mouths curling into a C — one up and the other down — Mingi went after you just like he initially planned before the universe threw an obstacle in his way.

The multiple calls of your name echoed like a wordless siren song, manipulating you to slow down only to break off the cures and walk faster as you realized who the voice belonged to.

“God, you walk fast,” Mingi huffed as he caught up to you.

For an active hockey player you’d think his stamina would be out of this world. Apparently not seeing how his chest rose rapidly, stretching his gorgeous musc– 

“What do you want?” 

“How you feeling about food? You hungry? It’s my treat.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny.”

Mingi skipped in front of you and rotated midstep so he walked backwards facing you, “I’m serious. You up for some fried chicken?

“I already told you to fuck off, don’t make me scream stalker too.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Look I wanna make it up to you. At least take this.”

He searched for something in his jean pocket and then held out two crumpled bills. The glare he received was sharp enough to cut through concrete and Mingi gulped as the corners of your lips gravitated down. Your hand itched to slap the mocking papers out of his grasp and scream something along the lines of him being an asshole. As if he hadn’t humiliated you enough, now he was offering you money like you were a beggar.

“I’m not up for any of your jokes, Song. Just leave. Me. Alone.”

“No, I’m being for real.”

You hit the brakes and stared at him hoping to find the smallest of hints that he was fucking with you. “What game are you playing at, huh? You’ve already publicly humiliated me once, you wanna go for round two, is that it?”

He scoffed at your hostility and stuffed the dollars back in his pocket. “I’m not always out to annoy you, princess.”

The small movement of your brows drawing together brought out a forced cough. He had yet to make it up for you and he was already fucking it up.

“Believe it or not, but I just want to make things right.”

“Why?”

Mingi opened his mouth and closed it again. Words swirled in his head but no answer came to his mind. The question was righteous, he’d give you that. Coming up with an answer proved to be difficult when he too didn’t know what had gotten into him or why the sudden surge of goodness turned him into Lady Justice. A measly ‘I don’t know’ wouldn’t get him anywhere so with eyes that reflected the stars and lips forming into a pout he mustered the softest, “I actually… feel bad for the library… and your phone.”

Your eyes filtered over his face. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him and you had to remind yourself that this was the same guy who knocked you off your skates, coughed in your lunch and flicked your forehead every chance possible. 

“I don’t buy it.”

Turning on your heel, you decided to go the long way home, hoping he’d take the final hint and leave you alone. Honestly, you should’ve known better.

“You would if I was a certain figure skater.” 

Your head whipped back around so fast that you nearly got whiplash and he’d have to take you to the hospital. 

“That’s not true!” Your face burned at the mention of Hyunjin or perhaps at Mingi’s observation. Did he always keep tabs on you or the people you associated yourself with?

He stepped closer, your breaths mixing in the cold wind.

“Prove it.” 

The bear trap planted in the middle of the trail couldn’t have been more evident yet you still stepped on it with both feet. Sitting in a dimly lit coffee shop waiting for the tall bastard to come back with your orders was not on your yearly bingo card. There were a handful of reasons you agreed to his stupid idea. Your keys were in your other jacket, which was collecting dust in your wardrobe. Dasom was working on her project at Hongjoong’s so the apartment was empty. The sky was turning darker with each passing second and you were not about to sit idly on the stairs of your apartment complex, especially not at night.

A strawberry frappuccino slid in front of you and popped your thoughts like a dart would a balloon. Mingi hung his jacket around a chair opposite you and sat down, much like in the library. He avoided your gaze and took a long sip of his green tea mocha. You didn’t touch your drink despite it being your favorite — you pushed the thought of it being a coincidence or not to the back of your mind — and continued staring at him. He eventually faced you and nearly choked on the beverage. 

“Why are you staring at me?” 

“I’m admiring your act.”

“What act?”

“This goody-two shoe thingy you’re trying to pull off.”

He chuckled and looked down at his drink, fingers tracing circles on the paper logo. 

“You’ve really got your head way in on that. There is no act. I said it earlier, I just felt bad for getting you thrown out.” The cup was left alone and his eyes found yours. 

“And that’s what I don’t get. You’ve been a douche for a whole year, what makes today so different from last month? Why do you care now?”

“Are you going to drink that?”

You weren’t drinking anything until he fessed up and it was clear from the scrunch of your brows and how your lips pursed, conveying that perfect amount of sassiness.

Mingi never stopped overthinking what the hell he was doing. On the walk there, during his stunt of convincing you and in the short time he stood in line waiting to order. He racked his mind for answers and came up with nothing. The blob of anxiety dug into his abdomen the more he replayed the library scene. It was different from all his previous harmless teasing and bickering. It was fun, but not in a sadistic way. Seeing you get so angry and flustered over a simple nickname tickled his insides, yet he never intended to get you into trouble let alone be the reason you got scolded and on top of that kicked out of a public place under a hundred watchful eyes. But being Mingi, the guy you apparently hated the most, he couldn’t say all that. You’d really think he was playing you, which you had every right to believe.

With another sip of his tea, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s called having a change of heart.”

You scoffed and allowed yourself to taste the stupid drink. It wasn’t like you could just go home anyway and it was easier to just give in and not make his money go to waste, no matter how annoying he was.

“Happy?”

A sarcastic hum weaved through the air of the chattering customers. The conversation ended at that point and you couldn’t stop thinking about your precious time being spent doing absolutely nothing. An all nighter was bound to happen or you’d say bye-bye to morning practice with Hyunjin.

The soft and irritating buzz of Mingi’s phone burned holes in his pocket. When you thought about it, the person hadn’t stopped calling him since you stepped foot in the shop and if you cared enough you’d tell him to take the call. Glancing down at the caller ID, Mingi pursed his lips into a line.

It didn’t take a genius to know why Intak was pestering him. The hockey team was supposed to have a movie night at Matthew’s. Intak and Mingi were assigned snack duty, but considering Mingi was at a coffee shop with you, the responsibility was pushed entirely on Intak, although he had yet to tell the younger boy. Mingi’s thumb slid over the off button and he pressed it twice ignoring the call. He was out of excuses to use and even if he had something up his sleeve, Intak would smell the bullshit from a mile away. They’d eventually justify his no-show as him having something better to do, assuming it was a quick fuck or something else involving a girl.

You, on the other hand, could jump from glee at the message on your lockscreen. Dasom was on her way home and you could finally cut this… appointment short. You slurped the last of your frappuccino and grabbed your bag and with a forced ‘thanks’ you were out of the coffee shop. How silly of you to think he’d let you off so easily. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as he walked beside you.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I'm walking you home.”

Underneath all that douchebag exterior Mingi had some qualities of a gentleman after all and for once you didn’t fight him on it. This whole exchange was weird and you were certain that whoever happened to see you two together would think it was a PR stunt. God forbid Dasom or Keeho got a whiff of you being civil towards him. Dasom’s future poems would be dedicated to your and Mingi’s nonexistent relationship while an exorcism would be arranged by Keeho, claiming Mingi had bewitched you.

“You live quite far from campus.” 

“I didn’t ask you to walk me home.”

“I never implied you did, I simply stated a fact.”

Another wave of silence settled over you. Mingi wasn’t that bad when he was quiet. Maybe you’d sew his mouth shut like Other Mother did to Other Wybee. At least that way you wouldn’t be publicly ridiculed anymore. Not that you were ever planning for this to happen again. 

By the time you arrived outside your apartment a layer of pitch black darkness wrapped around the earth and you had to physically bite your tongue from asking if he’d be alright walking home alone. Keeho did mention one of his friends was jumped by a group of older men and Mingi, despite his size and shape , wasn’t invisible to weirdos this late.

“Uhm, what’s going on here?”

Both you and Mingi turned to your left where a very confused Keeho and an ecstatic Dasom stood. You really wished you’d fought Mingi on leaving you alone sooner because the fear of walking alone in the dark was better than convincing these two coconuts there was no budding romance between you. Sensing your discomfort, Mingi cleared his throat. A dust of red sprinkled over his cheeks matching his cold ears and nose.

“See you around.”

Before you could mutter a lame ‘bye’ he was gone, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of dumb and dumber.

“What the hell was that?!” Keeho screeched as you bolted for the bathroom. “What happened to him being a dick?!”

“He’s still a dick,” you called out and splashed cold water on your face. 

“A dick you want to su–”

“Keeho-ya!”

“I’m just saying! What am I supposed to believe when I see you being all cozy with your sworn nemesis?”

You swung the bathroom door open and pointed at Keeho who, mind you, had his arms crossed over his chest and one foot impatiently tapping against the hardwood floor.

“Okay, let’s get one thing clear. I was not being cozy with him.”

He rolled his eyes at that. “You’re almost as gullible as Dasom.”

Said girl whined in protest and threw a sock at the back of his head. 

“No. No, no, no. I’m being honest. He just walked me home–”

“Mingi walked you home?” Dasom peeped from her space on the couch. 

“Yes, the bastard walked me home after getting us thrown out of the library–”

“The library closed like three hours ago.”

“Yes, Keeho. If you’d let me speak I’d explain everything from start to finish. The library was full so he decided to sit with me then he got us thrown out and wanted to ‘make it up’ by buying me coffee or whatever. So we went to a coffee–”

Dasom sprung up from the cushions and grasped your shoulders, violently shaking you back and forth. “Oh my God! He took you on a date!”

The self-proclaimed dad fell back on the sofa and dramatically covered his parted mouth. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was on the verge of crying.

“I can’t believe this. My little girl is turning into a woman.” He wiped an imaginary tear and followed up the act with sniffles. “We can’t have this, I have to threaten him properly. Invite him for dinner so he knows he can’t just hurt my little girl withou–”

You pushed past Dasom and threw glares at the annoying people you labeled friends.

“Can you stop fucking around for a second? I’m serious when I say nothing happened.”

“Well, yeah. I sure hope it didn’t. I’m still calling dibs on Hyunjin.”

You blinked a couple times, not entirely grasping his words.

“You’re calling what on who?”

“Dibs on Hyunjin.”

“Keeho thinks you’re getting together with Hyunjin.”

“You’re betting on my love life?!”

Keeho waved his hand in the air and tucked his feet under his bum. “Oh, stop screaming would-ya? It’s not much of a love life to begin with. Besides, Dasom is the crazy one in the bet.”

“Who’d you bet on?”

The girl balanced on her tiptoes and sheepishly smiled. If Keeho betted on Hyunjin, then she had to bet on–

“Mingi.”

“You bitch–” 

The instinct to fight kicked in and you lunged at her. It wasn’t as if you were going to hurt her, maybe jank her hair or bite her arm, something light to scare her. Before you could leave a scratch on her, Keeho flew to her rescue and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground.

“Woah everybody, let’s calm down a little bit!” 

With one last attempt to get one kick in you flung your legs out to which Keeho twirled you both around. 

“Count your days, Dasom!”

“Okay! You’re on time-out,” Keeho declared and carried you to your room.

As he was about to cross the threshold, you placed both feet against the wall on the sides of the open door and pushed back, propelling Keeho backwards. Poor guy almost lost his balance but regained it before you became one with the floor.

“Stop being a difficult little shit!” 

His right arm sneaked down behind your knees while the other supported your back and carried you bridal-style. He gently dropped you on the bed and you flopped like a sack of potatoes, limbs drawn out like a starfish. You could feel Keeho’s eyes on you, but it did little to break your stare from the ceiling.

“I’m not supposed to get any attention while in time-out.”

Keeho pursed his lips as his tongue poked the side of his cheek. 

“Mmm and you were supposed to hate Mingi but here we are.” 

He placed his hands on his hips. You were tired of glaring, arguing and throwing hands so you opted with a weak nudge of your foot towards the door. 

“Leave.”

Now that was very much out of character. He was certain you’d jump him too or chuck a pillow at him, but no. You continued laying there lifeless. You didn’t even spare him a glance. Keeho plopped down beside you, shoulders touching as he too stared at the creme colored ceiling.

“Did we go too far?”

“Nah, I’m just tired of Mingi. It’s like he’s always there, even if he isn’t. He always finds a way to get on my nerves.”

Keeho hummed, “I get that. I mean, not that you’d know but you and Dasom make me sick sometimes too.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. You get sick of being around us too much, not because we are making fun of you.”

“That’s true… but you know who doesn’t make fun of you?”

“...You and doofus number two out there?”

“Wooooooow, really?” 

A smile sneaked on your face.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Do whatcha want, Kyo. I’m just going to sleep the time-out… out?”

Extra sleep was never a bad idea and considering you were planning on pulling an all-nighter, you’d need all the rest you could get before that. You closed your eyes and rested one hand over your stomach while the other one went under your head.

“Hyunjin! Hyunjin doesn’t make fun of you!” Keeho yelped and breathed out in relief. 

It physically strained him to keep his mouth shut and it felt like his head was going to explode if he didn't mention it anytime soon. 

The idea of sleep was pushed to the back of your mind, along with all the other hundred things you postponed.

If there was anyone who kept dibs on people it would be Keeho. That man was up to date on all the gossip around the campus, new as well as old. Whoever was in the spotlight he’d know and then you’d know too. You’d usually tell him to shut it, not really being interested in other people’s business but this wasn’t just anyone’s business; this was about Hyunjin. The Hyunjin. Your crush, Hyunjin.

“Spill.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He jumped on the bed beside you, chin resting on both palms and feet kicking the air behind him. “Apparently our little Hyunjin-ie is interested in someone.”

Butterflies born from sheer anxiety and suspense fluttered in your stomach. Hyunjin liked someone. Giddy happiness welled over you. The same content feeling you’d get after passing a peculiarly hard exam or landing a difficult jump exploded in you. Your lips were forcibly curved in a shy smile and warmth settled in your stomach at the information. 

The boy you admired for quite some time now finally liked someone. The joy lasted for all of five seconds as the words really sank in. The lively butterflies building cocoons in you were annihilated by a big rock, and your childish smile was wiped like rain and other shit was flung from the windshield of your mother’s car. 

“Girl, why does it look like you’ve figured out Victoria’s secret?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m just saying how it is.”

That, he did. Keeho may have been an avid gossiper, but he wasn’t spreading lies. The things he heard and shared with you or Dasom were always true so you knew better than to question him and his sources. There was always that one-in-a million chance of him being wrong and it terrified you. It wasn’t like his sources couldn’t have misinterpreted it this time. What if they were talking about a girl named Hyunjin or Hyejin instead?

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s you,” he stated and picked on his fingernails. 

“Don’t fuck with me right now.”

“I’m not!” He threw his hands up. “But if you think about it, why would he agree to help you practice?”

“Because I was obviously struggling.”

“Okay, then explain why he asked for your number?” His head tilted as he raised a brow at your silence. “That’s what I thought. It’s you! Plus Jiung told me his crush was a figure skater. You are a figure skater!”

“That is a reach and you know it. It could be Yuna, she’s great. Pretty, nice and a figure skating prodigy.” 

“Okaaaay, but if she’s so great why aren’t they dating already?”

You flopped back on the bed, “Dude–” 

“No, I’m serious. If she’s so great and he likes her then what stops them from being together?”

“That could be used on me too?! If he likes me, why hasn’t he done anything?” 

“Cut him some slack, poor boy probably shat his pants while texting you.”

You swallowed down an insult and faced Keeho again. “How do you know about that?”

Crickets and whistling kettles.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yah, Choi Dasom!”

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[cherrycherrylady2024]

Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 2,827

Warnings: 18+ drinking, mentions of sex/masturbation, flirting?

Chapter 4: Maybe in yours

Rick sipped at his whiskey, gazing out of the darkened window as you all but devoured your fried rice. Surprising nobody, he looked incredibly sexy in pajamas. Why is that always the case? It could be that it's more intimate. Private? No one expects to be seen in their pajamas. Your pajamas are yours alone, not typically to be shared with veritable strangers, yet here he was. He wore a black undershirt that clung to his hardened torso, long, thin, flannel pajama pants, and less-than-perfect hair, all of which had you hooked. He seemed to be in a trance, deep in thought. His thumb absent-mindedly stroked the ridges of his glass. It was fascinating, the fact that he could stand to bask in silence with you. Typically that sort of thing is reserved for very close friendships, where you don’t have to fill every second with yapping. When you’re comfortable with someone, entirely. Either he felt this comfortable, or he simply didn’t care about that sort of thing. Both were admirable.

Should you say something? No. Enjoy the silence. Suddenly he turned to you, his deep, somewhat sleepy-sounding voice breaking the spell of silence throughout the kitchen, “So, gonna tell me why you're awake?” Your eyes went wide and you nearly choked on the bite you had just taken. The question he posed was simple, light, not of great importance in normal terms, and thus did not denote the response you had. But this was not normal fucking terms. He took note of your reaction with a questioning glance. You chewed and swallowed, racking your brain for something to say. You tried to relax your face. Be bold, you reminded yourself. Fuck it. “I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, returning his gaze. He stared at you for a moment, as if weighing his options, before his face melted into a wry smile, “I just made you dinner, which you so rudely skipped earlier. You first.” He knocked back the rest of his whiskey. You were playing a game with each other. Except you didn’t know the rules. You tried to seem indifferent, sliding around the rice on your plate, “I had a weird dream. Woke me up.” He nodded with an unconvinced “Hm,” sliding his finger around the rim of the glass, “Wanna tell me about it?” he questioned. “No,” you declared bluntly. You cleared your throat, “I just- I don’t even remember what it was about.” Me when I lie.

He still seemed unconvinced but nodded his head. You took a bite of rice, “Your turn.” He chuckled dryly, staring out of the window again. He thought for a moment. “I just... I always seem to wake up ‘round this time. Don’t know why exactly. Started-” he stopped himself, “-well, a couple years past. I gave up tryin’ t’go back to sleep a long time ago,” He tilted his glass, reflecting the moonlight, “But havin’ a drink helps most nights.” This was the most words he had ever said to you, and you hung on every single one of them. You didn’t say anything. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand the implication he tried to play off. What were you supposed to say? The man can’t sleep at night because of his dead wife, were you supposed to crack a joke? He turned to you, “Not what you were hopin’ for?” he smiled. You let out a nervous exhale/laugh, “I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe fighting crime?”

He chuckled and stood up with his glass. You felt a bolt of panic run through your body. Please don’t go. “I’m not Batman,” he said, walking over to the bar cart. He gave himself another splash of whiskey, then turned back to you with his hand on his hip, waiting for a rebuttal. The game continues. “Maybe in your dreams,” you teased.

“Maybe in yours."

He took another sip of whiskey as if he didn’t just make your heart stop in your chest. If this was a game, he seemed to be winning. There was no comeback to that. “You’re really not gonna tell me?” he said, ambling back over to the kitchen island. He leaned over it, propped up on his elbows across from you, and made inescapable eye contact. With the way he was leaning, his biceps were flexed hypnotically. You felt a nervous blush begin to grace your cheeks, still not responding. SAY SOMETHING! Your mind was blank. “It must’ve been a scary dream to wake you up,” he prodded. It was beginning to feel like an interrogation, but why was he pushing? What was the goal? Did he know something? You were being sort of sketchy about it, but with good reason. “I wasn’t scared,” you mumbled, “When I woke up, I mean.”

“No?” he nodded his head in thought, “Interesting.”

“Not really.”

“I like to think so.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because dreams can tell ‘ya a lot about a person.”

“And why do you want to know who I am as a person?”

He paused momentarily, thinking. You had been face to face, throwing your words back and forth between you both. You liked it. You were learning the rules of the game. He mulled over what to say and you wondered if he has the same conversations in his head as you do. Is he thinking be bold?

“Because you're my daughter's roommate. It’d be a comfort to know you’re not a serial killer.”

Guess not. You didn’t break eye contact.

“Well rest assured my dream was far from anything like that.”

“Ha! So you do remember!” He exclaimed, pushing away from the counter, leaving his whiskey. Fuck. You let your face drop into your hands, in frustration. “This isn’t fair,” you complain, “your job is interrogating people.” He chuckled, pleased with himself, “Part of it, yes.” He leaned against the counter behind him, his hands gripping the lip. The tinny stove light which he had flicked on while cooking, highlighted his features. You could see the veins in his hands, the definition of his forearms, and the smug grin on his stupid sexy handsome dumb face. You had to do something. You wanted to keep playing. You reached out and slid his half-empty glass of whiskey towards you. He didn’t move, the look on his face still the same, “That’s not yours.” You looked up at him slyly as you silenced every part of your brain with any sense. You brought your middle finger to your mouth, and gently wet the tip of it with your tongue. You didn’t break eye contact as Rick studied every move you made.

You brought your finger down to the glass and began circling the rim. Before long a reverberating humming sound filled the room. He observed you for a moment before slowly coming back over, leaning across the counter towards you. You stop and look up at him through your lashes, “Can I have some?” Without missing a beat he responds, “Will you tell me what your dream was about?” You scoffed, “No.” He smiled, and took the glass back, “Then no.” You sighed, unsatisfied. He took another sip, a twinkle in his eye. You were struck with a mental image of a lion, playing with its food. You were his to play with, and he knew it. He liked this too. A few consecutive moments of silent tension passed, and neither of you broke eye contact. Without warning, he straightened up, “You should be gettin’ back to bed now.” Your heart sank in your chest. What happened? Did you do something wrong? It was past 3 am now, and he was probably right… but he would have to drag you out kicking and screaming to get you to leave him. “I’m not tired, I just slept like 8 hours. I’m ready to start the day,” you joked. He chuckled as he finished his whiskey, “You do that. I’m callin’ it a night.” He placed his empty glass in the sink definitively. There didn’t seem to be anything you could do to stop him. You tried to hide the crestfallen expression written all over your face. He walked over and grabbed your empty plate from behind, and in the same breath, his left hand came down to rest upon your shoulder. You felt the heat of his hand, the pad of his thumb stroking your bare skin imperceptibly. He leaned down just slightly towards your ear, “Sweet dreams, honey.” His hand gave your shoulder a small squeeze and before you knew it he had put the plate in the sink and was gone. You sat there, mouth agape, for an embarrassing amount of time, until you could hear his bedroom door close upstairs.

Fuck.

You returned to your bedroom in a daze, your mind blank. Passing by his door you had a fleeting thought. You imagined what he would do if you just walked right in. Joined him in bed. You wondered if he would even be surprised. You could picture the look on his face with the utmost clarity. For the first time, not every single part of you dismissed the idea as nonsense. You put on your pajamas and get into your own bed. You stared at your ceiling, willing yourself to fall back asleep, to no avail. You weren’t tired. Your mind and body were in a frenzy of activity.  You thought of his arms, propped on the counter. His finger, delicately tracing the details in his whiskey glass. The look in his eyes as you played your game of verbal chess. His hand, unbearably caressing your shoulder. It was all too much. You turned over, trying to shake it off, coming to face his blanket. You breathed in his scent, and as your hand traveled down your body, you decided there were other ways to tire yourself out.

“Good morning!” All of the air was squeezed out of your lungs at the sudden weight on top of you. Half asleep, you tried to push off Judith who had jumped on and was now crushing you. “Off” you gasped. She rolled over, smiling playfully. “I already let you miss dinner, you’re not missing breakfast too,” she declared, shaking you. “I’m awake!” you exclaimed, shoving her away from you. She laughed, “Well you should be. You slept like 12 hours.” You grunted in response, rubbing your eyes. The clock read 8:13 AM. You groggily followed Judith downstairs through the kitchen. It felt like an entirely different world compared to last night. You were led to the quaint dining room right off the kitchen, where Carl sat eating cereal. Rick sat at the head of the table, his face obscured in the newspaper. “G’morning y/n!” Carl exclaimed. Rick flicked a corner of the newspaper down, his eyes skimming over you, “How’d ya sleep?” He knew what he was doing. “Better,” you replied, returning his knowing look. Judith plopped herself down across from Carl, leaving the other end of the table open for you. You settled in, directly across from Rick, who lowered the newspaper towards the table. “Help yourself to whatever you like, y/n,” he said, still reading. There were a few different boxes of cereal, some deep brown pancakes, eggs, bacon which verged on burnt, fruit, and orange juice. Your fried rice had not stuck with you, so you helped yourself to everything. Knowing that Rick cooked it, burnt food had never tasted so good. Judith, who had clearly gotten used to Rick's cooking, was busy polishing off two pancakes drenched in butter and syrup.

“So, what are you girls getting up to today?” Rick questioned, sipping his coffee. Judith chewed thoughtfully, “Mm, well, I think I’ll drive y/n around town, show her KCHS. Maybe we’ll go ice skating too, it’s ‘sposed to be colder today.” Rick nodded, “Tomorrow ya’ have to take Carl with you. Think up what you guys can do.” Judith groaned in protest, slumping in her chair. “I don’t want to babysit, Dad” she complained. Rick had a look on his face like he’d heard this a thousand times, “It’s not babysitting if it’s your brother. He’s going over to Sophia’s today for her birthday, but tomorrow you’re watchin’ him. Drag him shopping with you.” Both Carl and Judith groaned. “I need to do some Christmas shopping still. I’d hate to go to the toy store alone…” you offered. Carl brightened up then, as did Rick who gave you an approving look. “You should get your sister a gift for putting up with ‘ya. Maybe y/n too,” Rick said, standing and ruffling Carl's hair. It was only then that you noticed he was in uniform, his shirt unbuttoned showing his white tee beneath it. For some reason, you had been blind to the fact that, obviously, he still had to work. You felt a wave of disappointment overtake you, realizing you wouldn’t see him again until that evening. At least you would be distracted for a while. Rick began buttoning up his shirt. He bent down and kissed Judith on the head, “Be good, girls. Drop Carl off at Carol's around 10:30, okay?” Judith nodded, cutting another bite of pancakes. He smiled and winked at you, “Have a good day,” and exited.

He smiled. And winked.

...Which could mean nothing. 

After dropping off Carl, Judith showed you around town. King County was completely decked out for the holiday season, which helped to brighten your spirits. It was like a Hallmark movie. She showed you her high school, her old softball field, her favorite coffee shop where you had the best hot chocolate of your life, and finally the ice skating rink. You were interested in it all, of course, but you couldn’t keep your mind from continually trespassing into forbidden territory. You counted down the seconds until you’d see him again. Two of Judith's friends from home met you both at the rink, providing further distraction. You tried your best. The four of you sat, lacing up your skates as they reminisced. You found yourself zoning out, giving up trying to tie your laces. “Do you need help?” You looked up. Judith’s friend, stood before you, a smile on his face, his skates impeccably laced. He had introduced himself earlier but you couldn’t quite remember his name. David? Daniel? He was still waiting for a reply. “Oh! Uh yes, thanks. I never do these right,” you say. He chuckles and kneels down in front of you, “It’s okay, I used to be the same way before I started hockey.” You didn’t say anything. You didn’t really care, to be honest. It felt like no one mattered but Rick. He laced up your skates in silence and stood with a satisfied smile, extending his hand to you. It took you a moment to register before you took his hand and shakily stood. David/Daniel offered his arm to help you walk over to the rink, “Uh I’m okay. Thanks,” you said, smiling half-heartedly. He nodded and walked over to Judith and her friend (Marsha! You remembered triumphantly), and you followed wobbling behind.

The four of you made your way to the ice rink, which was surprisingly full for a weekday. David/Daniel and Marsha entered the rink before a group passed the entrance. As you and Judith waited to enter, she turned to you, her eyes alight, “Dude. He totally likes you!” she exclaimed. You furrowed your brows, “Who?” She rolled her eyes, “Daniel! He had total heart eyes the second he saw you!” she deepened her voice, mocking Daniel, “Oh my god, like, do you need help? Ha ha I play hockey, wanna get married?” You knew you were supposed to find this funny, so you laughed, brushing it off, “Oh my god, no. He was just being nice, he doesn’t even know me.” Judith wiggled her eyebrows at you playfully and shrugged before entering the rink, with surprising agility. They all seemed to be able to skate very well, and you didn’t have the heart to tell them you had actually never been ice skating before. It was colder today, and your breath floated away in white puffs. You didn’t want Daniel to like you. It was fucked up, but you were developing a distaste for normalcy. He was your age, he was nice and fairly attractive. But it didn’t matter. You didn’t want him. You wanted nobody but Rick. Something had changed within you, the fire had been stoked to an inferno and you couldn’t turn away. You will play Rick’s game, your rules or his, and you will win. You set your brow, feeling righteous and determined, and entered the ice. 

You made it about 2.5 seconds before what appeared to be an 8-year-old whizzed past you, causing you to lose your balance and eat shit.

Or ice, rather.

***

notes: sorry for the long wait but here it is! I'm already almost done with the next chapter so that will also be out in the next few days. Enjoy!

[leajdh]

Gold rush

Chapter Five: You who shimmy shook my bone, leaving me stranded all in love on my own.

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS: https://www.tumblr.com/leajdh/722300699873083392/all-chapter-of-my-satoru-gojo-x-reader-fanfiction?source=share

Suguru was right. 

The people love us. The picture he took yesterday of Satoru and me went viral. Not even ten minutes after it was posted on Satorus instagram page, it had over 20k likes and over a thousand comments. Surely some comments were negative but that was predictable and mostly they were genuinely nice. We got a whole lot of comments telling us that we are perfect for each other, which is such an internet thing to say, because they don’t know anything about us other than we are both skating on ice. Well, certainly this is enough for the public to think we are compatible. 

We had a good run since the picture was taken. I don’t feel awkward or nervous around Satoru anymore. Against my better judgment sleeping with him really helped. I can look at him without having the sudden urge to run away and hide. 

And I like to look at him, especially when he is training with his focused face, listening to everything Mei Mei screams at him, but still completely absorbed in his flow. I have only watched him train for about thirty minutes, however I was hooked by his movements. The itch to watch him far longer was there, but I didn’t want to come across as if I have any kind of interest in him outside of our contract. 

The way I smiled at him in this goddamn picture was enough to set me off. 

I slept with him, I smiled like a simpleton at him and now I even enjoyed him playing Ice Hockey, the sport I hate more than anything. 

I had to press on my mental brake. Falling for him isn’t an option. After all, I still have my doubts about him. I can’t throw them all over board because we had sex. He is ever so unpredictable and arrogant and just not the one for me. 

At least social media proved itself useful in my dilemma. A user posted an edit of the way I glance before I step on the ice followed by a clip of Satoru doing the same. Once we are on the ice, knowing something is there to win, we both look and act the same. 

Maybe that’s what fascinates me when I watch him train. It is like looking in a macabre mirror, seeing another person as infatuated as myself with being the best. We have the same fixed stare, head slightly tilted downwards, looking up between our lashes and noticing everything around us without losing our center. Shoulders and back straight and neck long. The perfect posture, even while stepping and sliding on the ice.

I wish to know if his heart has the same beat as mine in these kinds of moments. Strong enough to feel it pulsate in my ears, feeling the blood flow hot up and down my carotid artery, vision focused but also blurry from the frenzy. 

The emergence of goosebumps all over the skin, not enough for others to notice, but just enough to feel it happening out of fever and being filled up with enough adrenaline to knock out a thousand men, but just enough of it to calm one maniac. 

I realized from the moment he blackmailed me with this video of us, we are cut from the same cloth. 

Since then I was on the lookout, my guard up to the moon but he still managed to slip right through and got the upper hand over me by noticing one of my weaknesses. 

How I am actually really insecure whenever I am not on the ice. 

How fragile my self-perception is. 

How important the voices of others are. 

How my life is one big ongoing performance. 

I let him see a glimpse of the real me and in return I got nothing. All I know about him, I can read online. Just some standard information. Granted our contract was formed because he wants his popularity back. Something that seems important to him. Nevertheless Suguru was the one who told me the resentment of his fans affected Satoru. It wasn’t Satoru who openly claimed and explained it. 

He doesn’t let me in and it pisses me off. 

I don’t want him to win. When we will walk out of the contract, I want to have the upper hand.  

Should we be a team? Absolutely. 

Are we both team players? Absolutely not.

Well, I know I am not a team player. He should be one as the captain of an Ice Hockey team, but I have the eerie feeling just for our state of affairs, he won’t be one. 

I need to get the control back or at least a draw. 

But how?

Think, think, think.

Totally lost in my thoughts upon creating a counter strike, I notice the big, gloomy figure behind me first when an arm like a tree trunk hovers over my head to grab something from the supermarket shelf I stand in front of. Irritated by the close proximity of this random person showing up right behind me, I quickly turn around and stare up at a man, who grins like the devil himself. He isn’t looking at me, staring at the grocery he wants from the shelf but that grin. 

I know it is for me and strangely I have the feeling we met before. 

“Well, excuse me”, I mutter, finding it troublesome to have someone in my personal space. 

“You’re excused”, he answers, still not looking at me while examining the ingredients of the product he just grabbed. I feel a shiver down my spine from how low and thorny his voice is, but I try to not get too alarmed as I roll my eyes at his answer. With an offended side stare, I take a step to the side. 

He is tall, not as tall as Satoru but broader, taking up more space in an uncomfortable manner. His arms and even his face are crested in thick, black tattoos. Maybe he has some more all over his body but I won’t ever be able to tell. Sharp facial features with a strong jaw and menacing warm eyes with a reddish hue to them. With his wide smirk still plastered on his face, I shortly doubt myself that the man next to me is human. The teeth are barbed and massive like ones feline predators have. 

“Loser.”

As soon as he adds this word, my head snaps back up. 

Oh my fucking god. He is real.

The memories of him hit me like a ton of bricks.

Tokyo, Japan, my first world championship.

The year before I won second place at the junior world championship, ending my streak of first places. 

It was devastating. 

Surely once being second place isn’t the end of the world, but the media at that time was harsh and brutal on me, maybe because I never lost and they finally saw a crack in my perfect facade.

I was 16 and read articles saying from now on I will only get worse. 

And I wasn’t even at the Olympics. 

It felt like my entire career had no meaning and I should just quit altogether. The questions I got asked ripped me mentally into pieces as I answered them with a fake smile, ready to cry once the cameras were away. Mei Mei and my mother tried to cheer me up, telling me not to listen to such bullshit. 

Figure skating is one of the most competitive sports. Each year the athletes are getting younger and breaking more limits and record after record.

Time doesn’t stop for anyone and it certainly doesn’t for athletes. I was crying for 2 days in my room calling myself old and worn-out.

Truly the joys of being an athlete. 

I refused to step on the ice for over a month until my mother had enough and took my phone and computer away, forcing me back on the rink. 

For her there wasn’t any other outcome. One day I would win gold in the Olympics. 

Her dream for me.

But for that dream to come true, I must skate again.

And I did, reluctantly. 

As if I ever had a choice in this matter. With an overly ambitious mother and my competitive mindset which was thrilled into my head as soon as I took my first step on the ice.

However, let's go back to the World Championship. 

All eyes were on me and I felt it in my strangled veins. I was never so nervous and insecure on ice before. 

I’m never insecure on ice. Skating is like breathing for me. 

And who would ever be insecure about breathing?

You get time slots when you can enter the rink for training before the competition. I waited for my turn at the lobby, getting myself warmed up. Championships lure all kinds of people into one place and mostly other athletes. It is good press to be interested in other sports and showing support, but most athletes do it for a bit of media coverage in between their seasons. 

I used to love watching swimming competitions, always finding it nice to see the contrast from ice skating. 

Hard ice against soft water. Coldness against warmth. 

So it wasn’t a surprise to see other athletes or just random celebrities in the hall. 

I remember him. As tall as in the present but not as broad. Younger but still sharp features and already tattoos on his arms. Overall an extremely good-looking man. 

He talked with reporters, grinning mischievous. 

I was amazed like most of the other girls. 

To be honest, to amaze me at that time, you just had to look at me at least once and open a door for me. Both things he did.

My seventeen years old brain was going haywire and you can definitely blame my mother for it. I barely had any time for friends, so meeting boys wasn’t even a theme to begin with. The only talk I really had with her was when I got my period and she instantly made an appointment to get me an IUD.

Her dream ended with her pregnancy. She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to me.

Granted, I never questioned her. For me it was normal to concentrate all my energy on skating. 

Mei Mei always told me ‘now you are a figure skater and when you retire you will be a human again’.

Insane, right?

But I lived by that statement, focusing on skating entirely.

Just not on that day. I watched him like a hawk, walking around with a dozen people around him and taking picture after picture. 

Just who was he?

I couldn’t google it because my mother still had my phone and asking wasn’t in my repertoire. 

He noticed my glances. It wasn’t like I was subtle with it. I did everything to occupy my mind with something other than skating and losing again. 

On the outside I seemed cool and collective, Mei Mei and my mother truly thought I was over the Junior Championship, but mentally I was a sinking ship, just one more crash against an iceberg away from becoming a wreck. 

And just a few hours later I became one. 

On that day less than 24 hours before the competition. I was on the ice, going over my routine.  

I fell, not once, not twice, I fell so often I stopped counting. Mei Mei screamed at me, my mother completely shocked on why I performed this way. 

Reporters aren’t allowed on the tribune while athletes are training in their time slots but people with VIP-passes can enter and he seemed to have one. He watched me fall and fall again with that creepy smile on his face. I tried to blend him out and it worked. 

Like I said before, glances don’t bother me. I am used to being watched. Only Satoru managed to make me giddy.

Not even twenty minutes into my training I fucked up my signature triple axel, bending my ankle so hard I could hear my ligaments snatch, overstretching to the maximum. I was lucky they didn’t rip. 

I bit my teeth hard together and managed to leave the rink, stomping past Mei Mei and my mother, who wanted me back on ice. They didn’t know about my ligaments, just thinking I landed poorly but if I could still skate, it wasn’t so bad, right?

Right.

Telling them with gritted teeth that I need some time for myself I went into my locker room, where I just sat down and stared at the wall for minutes, emotionless. 

The blood pulsating in my feet, I knew once I put the skates off it would be bad. With shaky hands I opened them and stared at my ankle. Swollen already and I knew it would bruise. 

My mother would not allow me to skate like this. She is strict but not a lunatic. If I land one more time incorrectly without the ligaments fully healed, they will snap completely and my career is over. 

But I needed, no, I wanted the World Champion title.

Now or never. I didn’t want to wait another year.  

Another year would mean one year older, one year nearer my retirement. 

I wanted to cry but nothing came out. 

Eventually with an injury like this, I must have accepted that my career was ending. 

I just wasn’t good enough for the Olympics.

There is no shame to it. A lot of athletes never make it.

I instantly kick these thoughts in the butt. No, it isn’t over. I can do this. I will not fall tomorrow at the competition. I will win. I can take care of my ankle after the competition. It will fully heal. 

I knew it. 

It was nearly 10 years ago, so I don’t quite remember how long I was alone with my thoughts as the door opened and someone stepped in. I remember I sighed, madly trying to hide the swelling with a towel thrown over it. I expected my mother or Mei Mei to be the ones bothering me, but it was him with a big fat grin sitting on his face.

Throughout the conversation we were going to have his grin stayed on, sometimes fading or growing. But one thing is engraved in my brain like an antibiotic resistant parasite. His first words to me. Simple, but so world shattering to me. 

“Hey, Loser.”

He called me what I was truly thinking of myself at that moment, but never dared to acknowledge. 

Nevertheless I couldn’t believe someone would call me that. Before I even had the chance to tell him to fuck himself and get lost, he kept on talking. Along the lines of he knows torn ligaments when he sees them happening.

Staring him down I should have told him to leave my cabin, instead I said: “They aren’t torn, just on the edge of it.” 

I removed the towel and leaned over to my bag, taking out sport tapes. With a smile I babbled more to myself: “I had worse.”

Confidence is the key but my act didn’t work on him. He just leaned against the wall in front of me, not believing a single word by the way he looked at me. 

As I started to pull my legging up and begin sticking the tapes down, he clicked his tongue in disbelief. 

“By the way this is a private cabin.”, he ignored my words and with two big steps, he was right in front of me, taking the tapes out of my hand and muttering curses to himself. 

Mercilessly he grabbed my lower leg and stretched it out, my feet staying on his hard chest. It hurt like hell and I yelped, which gained me a side eye and something along the lines of ‘stop being a fucking pussy’. 

Usually I would say something snarky back, but I didn’t dare with him. Instead I just murmured: “I know how to tape myself.”

He only snorted mockingly at that and started to tape my ankle. If this guy is one thing, it definitely isn’t gentle. He applied the tape with such force, it felt like he wanted me to bruise even more. Still, I bit my teeth and let him do it. In between taping he started to talk to me: “I had the same thing once, so I know what to do.” 

My ankle was covered in tape in the pattern of a spiderweb. He talked to me like a ruthless trainer, who ignores the health of his athlete. 

“Keep the ankle cold under any circumstance, even if it feels like dying or you don’t feel anything at all.” 

Then he took a normal bandage and wrapped it around, tightly, telling me not to open it until after the competition. It will swell even worse and probably needs more time to heal, but at least I could be on the ice. 

Then he told me the same truth I already knew. 

“If you fall, it is over”, he snickered: “maybe it would be better anyway. To just end your foolish career.”

I knew, if I fall with this injury, it is truly over. Knowing it is one thing, but hearing someone else say it out loud shook my back into reality. 

“I won’t fall”, I told him without a doubt in my voice, ignoring his mean remarks. Bare teeth blinded my eyes as he laughed. 

“Just making sure you know your fate.”

Asshole.

“Why even help me if I will fail?”, I bit back. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I like being surprised.”

What a fucking weirdo.  

He pulled out his wallet and showed me a pill, asking if I already had my urine test. I nodded and looked skeptical at the pill. I do a lot of things to win, but I don’t take drugs. Seeing my suspicious scowl he told me: “It’s just a heavy painkiller.”

My scowl deepens. Painkillers are allowed, so why would he ask about my urine test?

He could read my mind like an open book.

"Prescribed.”

If they find a substance from a prescribed pill in my urine, I would need a doctor's note, so his question made sense. 

Well, that certainly didn’t sound better, and fine, I trusted him with my ankle but I wouldn’t take a pill from him. For all I knew he could be lying and giving me drugs. He rolled his eyes as I didn’t take it like I am stupid or something for not trusting him. Quite the contrary, I thought I was pretty smart for it. 

So I asked him: “Who are you even?”

All I got was a doubting laugh with furrowed brows like I am a fool for not knowing him. Based on my confused face he understood quickly I really had no clue and a devious smile grew back on his face. 

“I am.. Yuji.”, he states with a pause in between like he forgot what his own name is: “I play for the Japanese national basketball team.”

Nevertheless I was hesitant. Surely he was tall enough to be a basketball player but why was he here? 

Duh, why did I go to the swimming World cups? To be seen. 

Still I wouldn’t take a pill from him. 

I crossed my arms like a sulking child and shook my head. 

The air around him switched. To be honest he wasn’t in a friendly mood to begin with but now it changed drastically. 

He explained why he was even here to begin with. How he extra came for me to the Championship and how it was such a pain for his team to get him a VIP-pass.

All that for me to be a pathetic loser, who falls. He criticized my speed, my jumps and my overall form. It was like talking to all my worst critics combined. He didn’t sugarcoat one bit. His words were brutal and unforgiving. 

How he gave me a chance to get my title back and get Gold again, just for me to not accept it. How much he hates wasted potential and I am the embodiment of it. A silly little pathetic loser, blessed with genetic talent but no drive. 

I pushed myself up, feeling a slight sting in my leg, but didn’t mind. 

How dare he? He doesn’t know shit about me. As if his fucking pill would be my path to Gold. No, I didn’t care about the pain, I could ignore it. 

But I couldn’t ignore his attitude anymore. What did he even want from me? He didn’t know anything about me. We never talked before, nothing. I was angry. Angry at him and angry at me for allowing him from the beginning to talk down to me.

“Get the fuck out of my cabin!”, I hollered, but he didn’t move, smiling like my anger meant nothing to him and rather amused him, if not turning him on. 

“Or what?”

Yeah, fuck that or what? Honestly there was nothing I could do against a guy like this. I bet even if I hit him, it wouldn’t affect him, probably again just turning him on. 

“I will make sure they take your VIP-pass away”, oh my god, that was pathetic. Looking back I cringe at myself, but that’s all I could do. 

Another deep laugh.

“Do it, this whole thing is a waste of my time anyway. I thought I would see some great talents, but all I see is a whiny slut.”

I should be afraid but I wasn’t. I was just angry.

“I am a lot but not whiny.”

“No denying on the slut part, I see.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t even have my first kiss at that time, but he didn’t have to know. 

“It’s not worth commenting”, I fired back. 

Suddenly everything happened so quickly, I barely had time to register anything as he grabbed my jaw with his large hand and squeezed my cheeks together. 

“I bet it turns you on being called all these degrading words”, he lowers his face to mine, nose on nose with a demonic grin plastered on his face. 

I’m a winner. Degradation doesn’t turn me on. It makes my blood boil. Sadly wrath and lust often go hand in hand, but I would never let him know. 

“I beg to differ”, I tear my face out of his grip. 

“Then prove me wrong, loser.”, his grip traveled to my throat, holding me in place, not wanting me to look away from his challenge. I didn’t waver my glance from his dark eyes. 

He leant in closer to my face, waiting for me to break away first but I kept my eyes on him, even as his lips nearly brushed mine. 

Never in my life was I more happy to be interrupted by my mother as we heard a knock on the door. Slowly, still with a wide smile on his face, he let go of me like nothing happened and put the pill in my hand. In a swift motion he walked to another exit like he had no care in the world while I was frozen into place. 

My mother came into the cabin and talked to me, but I didn’t listen. All I had in my mind was him and how to prove him fucking wrong. 

And I did, I won Gold the next day.

With the worst pain ever in my leg I stood on the pedestal, waving with a bitter smile into the camera. 

I saw him during my performance but not at the award ceremony. 

Who is the loser now?

I bet he thought I couldn’t bring it. Wanted me to fall and fail, crying on national TV over my career ending. 

Wrong slut, motherfucker. 

However as soon as I was backstage, my leg gave in. My mother caught me and Masamichi carried me to a private cabin. 

I didn’t take his pill. I didn’t need his help. 

I won on my own. 

When my mother took my skate off my foot I screamed, nearly blacking out. Mei Mei looked at the bandages around my ankle.

“Who did this?”, she asked furious, now understanding why I didn’t let them near my skates to fix them before my performance.

“I did it.”

“Don’t lie to me, you idiot!”

My mother proceeded to unwrap my ankle, feeling like she skinned my foot alive. 

“This is a military binding technique! It is made to stabilize a dying foot so the soldier can move forward.”

“It did the job”, I muttered back in a delirious state of pain.

“You are so stupid! It is for a dying foot! With this technique they don’t want to save the foot, they just want stabilization for a moment before it will be amputated!”

I didn’t really register her words, all I had in my mind was the Gold medal around my neck and the cold metal against my chest as I fainted.

I woke up in the hospital, my foot held up by some strings and tubes pumping a liquid into it. 

The pain was bearable, but my foot felt heavy and numb. 

I looked over and saw my mother sitting in a chair. She didn’t look happy like most mothers would be once their child woke up after fainting. 

“What the hell did you think?”

I thought nothing to be frank. I did as he told me and it worked. It worked perfectly. I won Gold. My lucky streak would be back. 

“I did what I had to do to win”, I replied.

“You could have not only lost your career as a figure skater, you could have lost your foot!”

“But I didn’t.”

“Don’t act smart with me now!”

“I am the world champion, mom.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do, you only ever cared about that.”

“That is not true.”

I stared at her with a tired but fierce expression. If she wanted to tell herself that, she could do it. I wouldn’t stop her. Making herself feel like she was the mother of the century. 

If I had shown her my foot, yeah, she would have said no to the competition but I would have gotten the silent treatment for weeks. 

Like getting an injury is my fault. For her it would be. 

Because how dare me to fail her dream. 

She put so much energy into me. Imagine it all failing.

What a waste of time. All for a loser like me.

Certainly I have shown in this performance I am not a loser. My performance was worthy of the Olympics and I would go to them the coming year and win Gold too. 

I am a fucking winner. The whole world is going to know my name.

Everything felt unreal. My career wasn’t over. If my foot wasn’t going to fully recover my mother would have told me instantly instead of trying to lecture me. 

I softly chuckled to myself, thinking about him. At this moment of delusion I truly thought I owe this motherfucker my career.

“Right now you look just like your father”, she said quietly: “I don’t recognize you.”

Still in my trance I tilted my head to my mother and just sputtered: “At least I am not a loser like you.”

The moment I said it was the moment I regretted it. Before I had the chance to apologize, she was out of the room, leaving me alone. 

No, I was wrong. I didn’t owe him my career, he only took part in creating a new part of my personality. An irrational and cruel one. 

He made me the cunt I am. 

For years I thought he was a ghost I created myself. Like part of my hidden personality came out the moment I nearly gave up and brutally dragged me back on the ice. 

To kick me even harder at my lowest point and either leave me there or make me get back up. 

I never apologized to my mother, but I got my phone and computer back and she acted like nothing happened, training me for the Olympics once my foot was back to normal. I lost two months of training because of my injury and the binding technique, but it didn’t matter. I knew whatever would come in between the Olympics and me would be demolished. I was never going to give up. 

He was a mystery I didn’t want to solve. I could have googled him, but I didn’t. I liked the idea of him just being a weird imagination of mine to get back on track. 

But now he is standing next to me in the cereal aisle of a small town supermarket and I am sure he is not a projection of my mind. He is real. 

“I know you are but what am I?”, I croak back, my voice lost in my throat. 

“You are witty, I will give you that.”, he chortles, cracking a smile: “But I take it back, you certainly aren’t a loser.”

“So don’t call me that.”

“Pet names take time to form, I wasn’t expecting to meet you here in the middle of nowhere. So I don’t have one up my sleeve.”

Me neither to the meeting part, but why does it feel like he is lying. Like he knew I would be here. 

“How about my real name?”

“Nah, way too impersonal.”, god, the way he is so presumptuous is kind of alluring in the best way possible. Must be me, I seem to have a soft spot for cocky bastards. 

“Well, we aren’t exactly friends.”

He turns with a full on grin to me, the one I dreamed about for months. The one I see in my mind before entering a competition.

“You are right.”, he added my name: “But I will still think of something new, something fitting.”

I can’t fucking wait for it.

“What would you say is the perfect gift for an old friend you haven’t seen in a while?”, he drags me out of my empty thoughts: “Not for you. You stated we aren’t friends, right?”

“Right”, I stutter back: “I guess it depends on the friend.” 

I try to act nonchalantly, but I feel like failing.  

That answer earned me a slight chuckle from him. I decide it would be best to ignore him and just continue my purchase, walking down the aisle, but the looming shadow doesn’t leave me. 

“A friend who isn’t a friend at all.”

This sentence piqued my interest. 

“Still not for you”, he adds, but I wasn’t even thinking that. 

“Then why buy a gift?”, I ask, allowing him to keep the conversation going as he walks through the fruit section with me. I am glad we are in a public space filled with people. Alone with him again, I would not survive. 

“Just for courtesy. He had a rough time”, subtle information but nothing sturdy to grab onto.

His grin is going to kill me. I feel like a flight animal in the headlights of a predator. 

“Wine always works”, I answer politely and curse myself still giving him partially my attention. 

The curse of being a woman, always civil to uncivil men. 

A loud laugh echoes through the aisle before it abruptly ends, his sharp teeth still showing. 

“Not a bad idea, but alcohol isn’t his thing”, he states: “anymore.”

I frown but end up not thinking further about his oddity as I see a box of chocolates and instantly think of Satoru. How he asked me for a ‘thank you’ card and a box of chocolates for his ‘help’. A dumb tease from his side but in my head the cogs start to turn. 

Round and round for a counter strike. I place the box in my shopper with a grin similar to the one from him. 

Fuck, he really created a part of me. 

“Chocolates always work as well”, I babble back, before turning serious. “What brought you to this city?”

“Oh, just a quick stop before visiting my friend, who isn’t really my friend.”

For whatever reason the way he talks and acts is enthralling. I know he isn’t a good person but he has a certain aura that not a lot of people have. A confident one, but ready to be able to back it up. I should have googled him. I should have to see if he has some achievements to back up his brash attitude towards me all those years ago. 

I can’t shake off the feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

“Seems like fate that we meet again”, if it is even possible his grin got bigger. 

“You also thought it would be my fate to fall and call quits, but here we are. Coincidences happen.”

Yes, our meeting years ago and now, they are just coincidences. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Oh, little devil I don’t believe in just coincidences.”

“Don’t call me that!”, I turned sharply around to him. He holds up his hands in a mocking way.

“Calm your tits.”

“Why did you call me that?”

“Because you are a bratty, little devil”, I ignore the sexual undertone in his words. It clicked instantly like finding the right puzzle piece. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”, I ask, taking another step back. He steps forward, looking down on me.

“Nah”, he chuckles roughly: “I am not into Ice Hockey.”

Fuck, I can’t tell if he is lying or not. He is as unreadable as Satoru. He is so indifferent, so detached, it is hard to see what his intentions are. For a second I just want to yell at him: ‘What do you want from me!?’ but I calm down and just continue my purchase, feeling his presence still in my neck.

“Mind if we take a picture together?”

I turn towards him, looking him up and down with my eyebrows pulled together. He laughs lightly, sounding friendlier. 

“Against whatever skepticism is playing in your head, I was always a fan of you.”

“You had a great way to show your support”, I instantly built my guards up around him.

“I think so too”, he ignores my obvious sarcasm. 

That fucking evil grin again as he pulls out his phone and hands it to a lady next to us, asking her to take a picture. Before I even register it, he is next to me, slinging his massive arm around my shoulder and yanks me towards him. Looking up he has a big grin on his face while I probably look startled as hell. 

Everything just happens so fast again, like I am back in the cabin. I couldn’t even agree as he took the phone back from the lady.

“Thank y-”, he starts, but I butt in: “I didn’t ag-”

“You smell good, what’s your perfume?”, he interrupts me too. I’m too confused to finish my other sentences as I just ask: “Why?”

“That friend, who isn’t really my friend, has a new girlfriend. I want to give her something too.” 

I tell him the perfume I use and walk straight to the register, just wanting to get away. He should have fucking stayed a ghost. 

I don’t try to gnaw on it too much as I put my groceries down. Eyeing a ‘thank you’ card, I quickly put it next to my groceries.

“Got a boyfriend?”, he asks without giving me a second look as he puts his stuff on the conveyor belt too.

“I actually do”, I snarl back, not amused at all by his behavior. I should have never answered his questions in the first place, just acting like I have no idea who he is. On the other hand it is hard to overlook the person who played such a big role in my career. 

He could have been the ending but he was the crucial part to my new beginning. Because of him I had the chance to retire when I wanted to. Two Olympic Gold medals. I ended my career in the best moment, at its peak. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”, I state affirmatively. 

“Someone I would know?”

What kind of dumb question is that?

It seems more likely that he isn’t believing me and just wants to make sure I am not lying. 

I owe him a lot in a cruel way, but I would never fall so low to ever date him. Regardless, I have a contract with Satoru and I will not waver. 

For the time being Satoru is my priority. 

At least this question gives me a little relief. If he doesn’t know about Satoru and me, he really isn’t an Ice Hockey fan. Good, one less worry.

“Well, can’t tell if you know him but Satoru Gojo”, I mutter, hoping it will be enough to get him off my back and leave me alone. I give the cashier my card and pay for my stuff. 

“It doesn’t ring a bell”, he laughs, his eyes following my every move. 

“Then you must live behind the moon”, I retorted and grabbed my groceries.

“Maybe, or he isn’t just that important”, he says with a shrug: “anymore.”

I foolishly neglect his reply and just walk out of the store towards my car. All I want is to get away from this person. From my past. 

Once I sit in my car, everything comes crashing down on me. My hands shake and I feel panic rising inside of me. I shouldn’t drive in this emotional state, but I need to leave the parking lot. Away from him. Far away and praying that I will never see him again. 

My mothers words come back into my brain. I could have lost my foot. 

Because of him. 

He is dangerous. 

In the end I will never know if I had made history at the Olympics if I had told him to fuck off and leave me alone, not skating at the world championship. No one will know. By all means I could have recovered out of my insecurities alone and won a year later. Everything is possible.

But I did what I did and he did what he did. Risking your own career is one thing, but being a driving force in risking others, problematic. 

Additionally to his acting of ‘fixing’ my ankle, his words were a big part in my win too. His degradation towards me made me want to prove him wrong. As soon as I stepped on the ice I wanted him to look at me and see me win. 

Full circle back to my weaknesses. I care too much about what people think of me. It shouldn’t have mattered what an unknown man claims about me. 

Yet it did to me. 

Cut that crap! I will change. This is my second new beginning. 

With that I start my car and drive off, not looking back. 

I arrive at the rink hall, taking my groceries with me as I walk to the front door. Seeing Satoru waiting for me from afar makes my heart flutter. 

I am safe now from the ghost of my past. 

He grins widely, nothing evil behind it. Just Satoru. 

I step towards him, he takes my bags from me as I don’t stop getting nearer. Pressing my face in his chest, I sling my arms around him and just breathe in. He never saw me as a loser. He always treated me like an equal. 

“What’s wrong?”, he lightly chuckles and puts one of his large hands on my head, patting me like I have seen him pat my cat Todo. His chest quakes from his laughter and it feels good. It feels safe. Satoru knows me and at least some of my weaknesses and he is still here.

“I just saw a ghost”, I mumble, which earns me another quiver from him. 

“A ghost?”

“Yes, but he is gone now and will never come back.”

“Did you fall on your head or something?”

Slight concern is in his voice. I look up to him with a cheeky smile. 

“I got something for you”, taking a step back, I grab my bags from Satoru and rummage inside of one of them. It is too full, so I take a pack of baby carrots out and hand it to him to just hold while I keep on searching.

“Wow, I love baby carrots!”, he says with way too much enthusiasm. They aren’t his surprise, but I couldn’t resist my next tease: “Why, do they remind you of something?”

He laughs and we both grin at each other. 

“I don’t have a baby carrot and you know it”, he adds: “As I recall it, you were afra-”

“Yeah, yeah I know! Don’t remind me, idiot.”

Satoru would love nothing more to remind me again of our night together, but I 

keep him quiet by switching the baby carrots in his hand with a box of chocolates. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but the baby carrots are for the kids later.”

“Kids?”, he frowns and looks at the new item in his hand. His brain is rattering to figure out why I give him chocolates. 

“Yeah, the skating students you happily agreed on training for me. Did you forget?”

The frown on his face deepens and soon enough he groans. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

“You promised.”

“Lie, I never did.” “Well, you said to Suguru that you promised me, so it is kind of a promise.”

Another groan, which makes me feel flustered, growing a bit hot in certain areas.

“Suguru and I will be there too.”, a small smile forms on his lips. 

“Fine.”, he pouts and rolls his eyes, but I know he is just acting bothered: “But if you leave me alone for one second I will be mad.”

“I would never.”, I reply with a soft nod. 

I take the ‘thank you’ card out of my bag and his brain is catching up to the premise. His pout turns into a knowing smirk. 

“Do you have your wallet on you?”

He knows what I want. 

“Always”, he hands me a pen out of his pocket. I open the card and go behind Satoru, using his broad back as a table to write on. He is nice enough to lean slightly forward as I scribble something down. I put the card into the envelope and 

wet the glue strip with my spit to close it. Once I am finished I hand it back to him with a big smile.

“Thank you, partner”

He is all smiles and dimples as he takes the card from me.

“It was my pleasure”, he sticks the box of chocolates under his armpit and rips the envelope open to read my message. 

Dear Satoru,

thank you for fucking my insecurity away ❤️

Sincerely followed by my signature autograph.  

By the way he looks at me, I am one more step closer to finally get him to open up to me. A step closer to get our situation ruled out as a draw.

He puts the card back into the envelope and looks at me with tomato red cheeks. I gasp at this sight. 

I managed to make the Satoru Gojo speechless with his own shenanigans! The ‘thank you’ card and box of chocolates were his idea after all.

“I got you blushing!”, I can not not make him even more embarrassed. This is the chance of a lifetime. I will wallow in it like a piggy in fresh mud. 

“Shut up”, he turns his face away, but I take his beautiful face in between my hands to make him look at me. 

A mistake because from the way he looks at me, he got me blushing now. I feel like in this moment we are just one more heartbeat away from kissing each other but as if god sent an angel to save me from my disgrace, the front door swings open and Suguru emerges. I let go of Satoru and took a step back, looking at Suguru now.

“There you are”, he nods at Satoru, not noticing me at first. I have never seen such an expression on Sugurus face. A grimace, a pissed off grimace.

“We need to talk.”

The last twenty minutes I spent on the tribune, next to Shoko as we watched Satoru and Suguru hammer pucks into the goal. 

“Men”, Shoko sighs next to me: “Can’t handle their emotions so they have to act them out.”

I agree with her. 

The situation they found themself in isn’t ideal but I don’t get the fuss. Toji Fushiguro didn’t sign an extension contract for the Rangers. It was a surprise but they could have seen it coming. Greedy athletes always change their team, especially if money is on the line. And if I learned one thing about Toji during my research, he loves money.

Surely losing a player is always shitty, but I looked into the entire team. There are so many good other players. He won’t be missed. At least I thought so, but as I voiced it Suguru looked at me with an offended glare and said I have no idea about Ice Hockey, so I kept my mouth shut from that point and just let them work it out on their own. 

It was better anyway to stay out of this, because my father decided to make Toji an offer of a lifetime and he will be playing for the Devils from now on. Once Suguru mentioned this to Satoru, I got the death stare, like I have something to do with the shit my father does. 

So I banished myself on the bench next to Shoko, now watching two grown men trying to see who can destroy their ice hockey stick the fastest. 

“Want something from the vending machine?”, Shoko asks me.

“Nah, I’m good, but here”, I hand her my keys: “Just open it and take what you want.”

“You will never get those keys back.”, she declares and I one hundred percent believe her. “I will not forget about them.”, I respond with a light smile, but she just waves me off and walks away.

As I watch them play or whatever the hell they are doing, I regret not unfollowing Toji on Satorus account in first place. 

With a big stretch I get up and decide to finally intervene. They could do this for hours to no end, but in around two hours ten kids will be here for their skating course and I can’t have two sulking men train them. 

I step on the ice being totally ignored by the two of them. Granted, I am the enemy right now, well, I have half the DNA of their enemy. 

“Does it really matter that he left?”

Both of them tilt their heads to me with an annoyed expression. I hold my hands up in defense.

“Like, is he stronger than you?”, I ask Satoru.

“No.”, a prompt answer.

“So it doesn’t matter.”, I get eye rolls from them - synchronous. 

“Ice hockey is a team sport.”, Suguru tells me like I don’t know. 

“Okay, and? What about the others? Aren’t they good enough?”

“That’s not the-”, I don’t let Suguru finish.

“Hakari never missed the goal, Higuruma always has a solid strategy, Kusakabe has one of the greatest defenses, Ino is an allround talent, Choso never misses a pass”, I pause, but add: “And Nanami just won the award for best goalie.”

They are a lot more players, but I decided to just go with the main ones. Both Satoru and Suguru stare at me like I am a freak.

“You learned about the team?”, Satoru asks, astonished.

“Yeah, for you”, I answer and oh boy, I didn’t mean for it to sound so tender, even corny. 

“I mean, you know I should kind of know your team, right? Like it would be weird if a reporter asks me something and I have no clue, right?”, too many rights. I cross my arms and act nonchalant, looking everywhere but at Satorus plaguing and all-knowing grin. Suguru just peeks between Satoru and me before rolling his eyes but with a small smile. 

“Anyway”, I try to get back on track: “Both of you are so occupied at being mad at a person who left your team for money, that you are the ones acting like Ice Hockey isn’t a team sport.”

According to wikipedia Toji is one of the best Ice Hockey players alive right now, but I certainly don’t need to mention this right now. 

“You are right, we don’t need him to win the Stanley cup”, Satoru announces after a while of skeptical glimpses between Suguru and himself. 

“Still he knows all the weaknesses of our team members”, Suguru thinks out loud: “and he knows the relationship between you two is fake.”

Shit, I forgot about that part.

“But like every other teammate he had to sign a document, he isn’t allowed to disclose that.”

“Come on, Satoru, don’t be dumb. He will never publicly state it but he will tell his new team and they will do anything to use it against you.”

“Let them try”, I chirp in: “we are smarter than them.”

I will end up regretting these words.

Satoru seems confident as well, giving me a thumbs up with a big smile. Only Suguru isn’t convinced.

“If everything goes down”, I skate to him and take his stick: “I can always take Tojis spot on the team.”

I hit the puck and scored. 

“Natural talent”, Satoru grins.

“Yeah, sadly it is in my blood”, I shrug my shoulders, looking at his beaming smile. I am glad I got them to stop overthinking. At least for now. If they want they can have a sleepover and keep sulking the entire night. For now I want them to be ready for the skating course later. 

As I was thinking of a way to cheer up Suguru, Shoko shrieks from the tribune. We all looked at her like she got bitten by a spider. 

“You gotta be kidding me!”, see, I will regret my words.

“What’s up, Choco-Shoko”, Satoru skates towards the brim of the rink, followed by Suguru and me. Normally Shoko would glare daggers at Satoru for this name, but she is too occupied staring at her phone. 

She alters her stare and looks with an open mouth at me before stuttering: “I have a girl problem.”

“A what?”, Suguru asks confusedly, staring at Satoru, who seems as perplexed. 

“I need you, now, outside”, she points at me and I just comply, stepping out the rink and stomping behind her with my skates still on. As soon as we exit the rink hall and enter the corridor, she turns around and holds her phone too close to my face to see. 

“Can you explain this?”

“Shoko, I can’t see anything like this”, I push her hand down and focus on the screen. 

It is a picture. 

Not any picture. 

It is the picture from the supermarket.

The picture of Yuji and me. 

The ghost isn’t gone. 

But they don’t know anything about my past with him. For what it looks like he is just a fan taking a picture with me. 

“What’s the problem, Shoko? He just asked for a picture in the supermarket”, I tilt my head, acting confused and certainly I am a bit. 

“You know who this is, right?”, she proceeds to press the phone again in my face.

“Shoko, stop”, I take a step back: “again, he was just asking for a picture. I didn’t ask for his ID or anything.”

Why do I have the feeling I made a huge mistake. 

Why can’t this ghost stay in my past? 

Shoko looks at me like I am a pink elephant wearing a tutu. 

“You really have no idea?”

“No, I told you, he just asked for a picture.”

Who the hell is he?

Yuji, the pro basketball player. Did he have a scandal I don’t know about and taking a picture with him wasn’t a good move. 

Well, lack of knowledge doesn’t save you from backlash, but Shoko acts like someone posted a video of me skinning puppies alive. 

“Short and sweet, this is Satorus mortal enemy on and off the ice.”

Shoko explains dryly: “And you better run, because if Satoru sees this, he will use your bones to make a new Ice Hockey stick.”

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Mortal enemy?

On the ice?

That motherfucker is an Ice Hockey Player!

I grab her phone and click on his profile. 

Sukuna Ryomen. Not Yuji.

Ice Hockey. Not basketball.

Center player for the New Jersey Devils. No fucking way.

What kind of fuckery is this? 

I feel like the last few days I got way too many situations like this, where I just get thrown under the bus, but this, this is next level shit. 

He lied to me years ago and kept the lie running. 

Well, I decided to play in his cards by not googling him. 

Keeping him a mystery, a ghost. 

Great idea, now he is back and alive, ready to jump me like a lion a gazelle. He kind of did that already. 

I don’t care about Satorus hatred against him. For now.

All I think about is why he was at the stadium years ago!?

Was he sent by my father? According to his profile, he was already playing for the Devils at that time. 

What is doing on? 

The binding technique, the unknown pill. 

Sabotage.

He truly was there to sabotage me. To end my career. 

One hundred percent did my father send him. 

I was getting more and more media coverage at that time. After all, I was a candidate for the Olympics. My father got asked more and more questions about me. He surely knew how to ignore them, but they must have bothered him. So much so that he sent someone over to sabotage my career. To end it and then he would have never heard of me again. 

It all made sense. 

But his little trick didn’t work, it did the opposite. 

Oh, he must have been so pissed. So pissed seeing me win and a few weeks later announcing that I will be skating for the Olympics. 

Definitely a vein popped in his forehead. 

The door swings open loudly as it crashes against the wall.

“Here we go.”, Shoko takes her phone out of my hand and steps backwards, seemingly wanting to escape whatever is coming our way.

Satoru with his head tilted forwards, angry like a bull seeing red. 

Fitting, I have a red pilates set on.

Behind him Suguru tries to entangle Satoru in a conversation, but it doesn’t work. Satoru stops right in front of me and I would do everything for him to just scream at me and get it over with, instead he is so calm. 

Calm like the sea before a tsunami.

“What is this?”, he shows me the same picture I just saw a second ago on Shokos phone.

“Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? You took a cute little picture with Sukuna. Anything else I need to know?”, he gestures with his hand fastly, something I have never seen him do before: “Like have you given him a quick update on how my recovery is going or I don’t know, fucked him.”

I was expecting a lot of accusations but fucking him. 

“Satoru”, Suguru chimes in, in a warning tone, but even he is looking at me like I did skin puppies alive.

Satoru ignores him completely, just staring at me. His height was always intimidating but now it is fucking terrifying.

But I am too stubborn and actually really hurt by his accusation, especially the last one. I will not allow someone to talk down on me again. I have changed.

“Yes Satoru, right between the bananas and the apples in the fruit aisle”, the moment I said it, the moment I regretted it. Satoru is so irrational right now, he would take everything seriously. He snorts with a menacing smile forming on his face. 

“I see, no denying.”

Different approach. 

“Listen, I just told Shoko I had no idea who he is. He just asked me for a picture.”

There is no reason for me to tell him about my past with Sukuna. It has nothing to do with Satoru and the situation I am in. I will keep it to myself. I see no sense in telling him about it and making him probably even angrier for being so foolish to not looking more into that guy who nearly ended my career. 

This is a conflict between my father, Sukuna and me. No need to drag Satoru into this. 

“How stupid do you think I am?”, Satoru replies, not even listening to me: “I fell for your little act of having no clue about Ice Hockey because it made sense, but now it is just getting ridiculous.”

That hurt like hell, worse than my foot inside the binding. 

Yeah, my life is a performance and I act like people want me to. 

But I never acted when it came to Satoru. I tried in the car on our first meeting, but he saw right through me and since I was always myself around him. 

“I was never acting around you and you know it”, tears start to sting in my eyes. 

This is all a big misunderstanding and it could be solved so easily if he just listens. 

“I just want you to tell me the truth and stop wasting my time.”

“Oh, you want the truth? I will give you the truth”, neither Satoru nor I should talk to each other right now. We are too emotional when it comes to the other person, but I am so hurt from his ignorance towards me. How can he not believe me? Whatever rivalry is between Sukuna and him, it goes deep. 

“Even if I was that evil mastermind who lured you into a trap.”, well, fuck I lured him into a trap once, but he did it too! He isn’t a saint either, but to accuse me of working together with a member of my fathers team is too much: “What could I have told Sukuna about you, huh? How all I know about you is readable on your fucking wikipedia page? Because you certainly didn’t tell me anything half the planet doesn’t know about you already!”

I keep holding eye contact with him, even when I feel the tears flowing now. “How I only saw you train for like thirty minutes and I have no idea about your progress? I never asked you or anyone else about your recovery or training plan or I don’t even know what. I have no idea who you truly are.”

He doesn’t answer me, just keeps meeting my eyes, like trying to find something in them so he can doubt me again. 

He doesn’t want to trust me. 

I thought about trust a lot. How I have trouble trusting Satoru, but I kind of disregarded that he might feel the same way about me. Not fully trusting me and with a situation like this. I would have probably reacted the same way. 

One thing is clear, he is hurt as well. 

“Okay, this is getting out of hand”, Suguru steps in between us, tearing our staring contest apart. 

“Both of you need to calm down! Whatever Sukunas intention was by posting this picture, he would probably have a big, fat grin on his face seeing you two go against each other!”, Suguru takes a deep breath. I look at Suguru but I still feel Satorus penetrating stare at me. 

“Toji surely told them about the contract between you two. Sukuna will do everything to throw you off course, Satoru”, he touches Satorus shoulder to get him to listen. 

I hear Shoko sucking in a breath and underlay Sugurus comments: “Suguru is right, it seems like he tries to get under your skin. Sukuna will do everything to keep you from performing your best. I mean he tried a similar play between Suguru and you years ago.”

I give Shoko a questioning glance but she just shrugs her shoulders. Whatever, I know nothing about Satoru anyway, why should it matter what happened years ago between the three of them. 

Yeah, whatever!

All this talk about being a team and partner, fuck it. I don’t care. I was never part of his team to begin with. 

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

But I do care.

The contract means as much to me as I thought it meant to Satoru. It is my chance to come to terms with all that happened in my life. 

My absent father.

My overzealous mother. 

My madly ascent as a figure skater. 

Maybe I should just really call a therapist. 

I should turn around and leave, never looking back and forget the time we had. Just go into my room and lay in my bed, figuring my life out on my own. 

However in the end I am not a quitter. I signed this contract and I will do everything to keep it running. 

Everything is one big misunderstanding and I need to bash this in Satorus head. Of course my feelings are hurt because I feel like I have shown him parts of me no one knows and he didn’t give me anything back. 

But there was a reason why he wanted me as his fake girlfriend. Me and no one else, because we understand each other on a level most can’t relate to. I need to break his walls down, one by one. 

I like to think I had harder challenges. 

Satoru exhales, taking in what Suguru and Shoko said. He rubs his hands over his face, pressing his finger into his eye sockets. 

“I didn’t m- I need a minute”, with that he just leaves, walking to the locker rooms. 

Silence between the three of us. I know Suguru will be the first one to say something, probably telling me to give Satoru some time and everything will work out after a rational talk. 

Not this time, Suguru. This time I will do it my way. 

Without another word I follow Satoru, Suguru calling me from behind to let him be. I don’t listen as I keep walking, storming into the locker room.

“I said I need a minute”, Satoru groans loudly, probably thinking I am Suguru by the way his voice sounds. 

It is like a Deja Vu from another point of view. How he is the one sitting on a bench, mind going haywires and just done with the world as I storm into the room with one thing in mind. Getting him back on track. 

I’m Sukuna and Satoru is me from all those years ago. 

Well, it is debatable what Sukunas true intention was by getting my ass back on the ice, but I know what mine is.  

“Hey, Loser”, I chuckle as I lean against the wall in front of him, looking at him with a grin plastered on my face.

I will use the same tactic Sukuna used on me. I will use Sukunas own weapon to get his mortal enemy back on track, but I will make it better. 

The pure degradation from Sukuna made me go mad. I mean I nearly lost my career alongside my foot. What I would have needed, was a slap in the face to wake up and a gentle kiss after to make me realize I have worth. 

Degradation and praise. 

My weapons are better.

“What did you call me?”

“Want me to repeat it?”

“Yes, say it again”, his voice is so low, I start to get goosebumps and regret my plan. Maybe it doesn’t work on Satoru. Maybe we aren’t as similar, but I remember being mad at Sukuna too, I think I was only more bewildered because I didn’t know him. 

“I said you are a loser”, my confidence slips a bit and he can see it. 

I hate how easily he reads me. 

“Care to elaborate?”, he grins back and yeah, this isn’t going the way it did with Sukuna and me. This bastard is enjoying this.  

I seem to have forgotten that there is one big difference between Satoru and me and this is confidence. 

My confidence outside the rink is all fake, while his’ never leaves. He probably never thought of himself as a loser.

“It is just a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”

Laughter from him, but if you listen closely you can hear the difference between his real one and this one. 

I can pick up a bit of sourness. 

My words got to him. I mean it is probably the first time ever someone talked to him like this. Someone he cares about. 

Tell me what you want, but I know he cares at least a tiny bit about me. He has to for our contract to work. 

“I’m still waiting for the elaboration, princess.”

 I want to roll my eyes. Not even five minutes ago he accused me of being this evil mastermind and now he acts like nothing happened between us, like he can just call me princess and get away with it. 

Okay, I will let him get away with it, but just because I have a more important mission.

“You got all unreasonable and threw a fit because I took an innocent picture with a man I didn’t know was your self-appointed mortal enemy. Hard to believe this is how the legend Satoru Gojo behaves.”

His eyes darkened and I think I overstepped slightly. Well, there is no turning back now. 

What's said is said. 

“You complain about not knowing me, but once I show you a side of me, you complain even more.”

“That’s not what I was complaining about and you know it.”, I sigh and change the theme, because I don’t want to start a discussion about this. 

This conversation is about him, not about my hurt feelings. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to believe this is the real you”, I walk over to him and kneel down in front of him, looking up to meet his damning eyes.

“I don’t believe it. You are smart, smarter than most people I know. You think ahead for your five teammates and know your opponents by heart. You are the fastest, strongest and most versatile player in the NHL. And you are funny and kind in your own way, so don’t tell me the way you just acted out there is part of you. Whatever your issue with Sukuna is, he uses your hatred against him to bring out a part of you that isn’t you. An irrational and cruel loser.”

Sukuna did the same to me and I didn’t even know him prior to that. He made me irrational by playing with my insecurity of losing and made me cruel by the way I ended up talking with my mother. 

All these were my actions and I’m to blame for it, but everything would have turned out differently without him. 

He didn’t make me the person I am today. I will not give him that. The irrational and cruel side he handed me will be bashed once and for all.

I won’t give him credit anymore for giving me my titles. He isn’t the reason I made it to the Olympics. I could have done it on my own, because deep down I had all the strength in myself I needed. I am not a loser.

“Did you google my stats?”, is all he says to me after I told him a lot of nice things about himself. 

“Had to, it is not like you ever told me about yourself or your team”, my mouth turns into a thin line. 

“I’m sorry, I saw red and I overreacted. Suguru, Shoko and you are right. He wants to get inside my head to mess with me.”

“He is afraid you will come back stronger than ever and beat his ass”, now I smile at him and I get a harumph back but with a light smile playing on his lips. 

I would give everything to see him all smiles and dimples again, but it might take time. 

He takes my chin in his hand and looks at me with his intense eyes. 

“I’m really sorry, can you forgive this irrational and cruel loser?” 

“I only see a rational and kind winner in front of me, but sure.”

“You will be the death to me”, he laughs and I’m glad I got the smiles and dimples faster back than expected. 

“Come here”, he slaps on his leg and helps me get back up to sit down on his lap.

A small voice in my mind tells me to ask him if he was jealous of Sukuna in this picture. The fucking part in his accusations was rather random and I first thought it was to just randomly hurt me, but maybe there was a bit of jealousy. I should ask him, tease him about it, but it is going well now, I shouldn’t test my luck. 

Even the best players run out of it and I tested the limits with Satoru enough for one day. 

He pulls me closer and slings his arms around my back, pressing me to his chest and oh, his crotch. 

“I can’t believe you are hard right now.”

I don’t know why I said that outloud but I did. Nuzzling his head into the croak of my neck, he breaths in my hair and chortles. 

“Believe it, it’s the stress.”

“So you are hard 24/7?”

“Only when you are around.”

“You are such a smooth talker”, I giggle and hate myself for the way I react. 

“I think red just turned into my favorite color”, he pushes my hair back to get access to my neck, kissing it softly. I feel his fingers linger on the hem of my tight shirt, ready to pull it over my head.

“Then I should better keep it on so you have more of it.”

He grunts and bites me lightly in the shoulder, sending goosebumps down my spine.

“Let me take it off, okay?”

Instantly I want to do nothing more than nod my head, but a thought crosses my mind. 

“This wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Another grunt. 

“Please don’t tell me you were serious with the one time thing”, he leans back from my neck and looks at me, waiting to accept a rejection. 

I actually was, but now I am not anymore. The problem lies somewhere else. 

“What if someone comes in?”

“A big surprise for them”, he grins widely.

“Not funny”, I roll my eyes: “I’m serious.”

“You are always too serious”, he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“And you aren’t serious enough. Suguru could come in and catch us.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I punch his shoulder lightly.

“It does! I don’t want him nor anyone else from the team to know about this”, I wave my finger between Satoru and me back and forth. 

“Not to break your little bubble, but they already know”, I stare with a shocked expression at him, ready to punch him for real this time. 

If he dared to-

“You weren’t exactly quiet the other night and the walls are rather thin.”

Now I wish he would have told them instead, that would be way less embarrassing. I grumble in my hands, hiding my face out of sheer mortification. Satoru just laughs, as always and grabs my hands, pulling them off my face. “It is fine.”

“It is not”, I pout. Is today my personal humiliation day? A new holiday I didn’t know about.

“It really is, princess.”

I didn’t want anyone, especially Suguru, to know I had slept with Satoru. It comes across as extremely incompetent regarding our whole contract. Our entire relationship should have stayed professional. I don’t want to know what Suguru is thinking of me. He had the most trust in me and I ended up sleeping with Satoru not even a few days into the contract. 

I’m weak. At least when it comes to Satoru. 

Wait.

This is the chance. A draw!

There is no insecurity for him to fuck out of my mind. He wants to hook up with me out of sheer fun? Lust? Whatever it is, it will create the draw I so desperately want to have. 

I want to be on equal terms again. 

“But we don’t need to anymore, you know. No more insecurity inside my head.”

Well, no more insecurity regarding looking at him and being close to him. 

“I know, but I just want to be inside you”, he looks at me with a small, pleading pout: “No, I need to be inside you.”

I exhale a steamy breath. He is again at the hem of my shirt, pulling it slightly up, rough fingertips traveling over my skin. 

“Don’t make me beg, unless it turns you on, then I will gladly beg”, his mouth is against my jawline, leaving a trail of kisses and small bites.

I nod and reap a ‘tz’ from him. 

“Give me a clear yes or no.”

I shouldn’t.

“Yes”, and his lips are suddenly on mine, just leaving them for a second as he pulls my top over my head. 

With slightly cold hands he squeezes my breasts, a moan escaping my mouth, which he catches with his. He rolls my already hard nipples between his fingers before choosing the one on the left side to close his lips around and lick. I whimper and lean my head back, giving him even more access as his now unoccupied hand enters my waistband. 

“Angel”, he whispers in my ear: “Get up for a second, we need to get rid of your pants, okay?”

He talks to me like I am slow on the uptake and at this moment I feel like it. I’m in a delicious delirium as I stand up and hold myself up on Satorus shoulders. He gets rid of my pants, not we. In a swift motion he brings me back on his lap and kisses me again, his tongue asking for excess to enter my mouth and I let him with a small sob. I want to open his pants, but he grabs my eager hands quickly. 

“I know we don’t have a lot of time, but you need to be a bit prepared, okay?”, again he talks to me slowly and I just nod, not knowing why we need to be quick. 

…

The skating course!

Dragged out of my delirium I look around for a watch. Satoru catches me scowling and states: “Don’t worry, we still have enough time.”

I pucker my lips for a second but I ended up trusting him, not wanting to call it quits now. 

And no, this isn’t just about me wanting this to. This is all about getting equal again. In my head I mentally make the note to let this really be the last time. After this Satoru and I will just be partners like we are in a law firm. 

Before I can even write the note mentally down, the thought is gone as he wets two of his fingers with his tongue before stuffing them inside my mouth too. I twirl my tongue around them too as he pulls them back out with a blop. With his other hand, he grabs my butt and slightly lifts me up as I kneel on his lap. 

Then he creeps his fingers at a slow pace up and down in between my fold to gather slick. I lean forward and lift myself a bit more up to give him better excess. Steady but so, so, so slowly he enters me. His thumb is drawing soft circles on my clit while he starts to move his fingers in and out. So slow like we are in no hurry, like he wants to torture me. 

“Please Satoru, faster”, I cry in his ear.

“Nah, angel”, he presses a kiss on my temple.

“This is your punishment for taking that picture.”

I should have known he wouldn’t let me off the hook about this picture so quickly. 

“Please, I had no idea”, I groan frustrated and sling my arms around his neck for support as I start to move my hips, trying to create speed and friction on my own. My plan failed as Satoru keeps my hips in place with his other arm around my waist now. 

“Should have thought about that before taking a picture with a random man.”

He can’t be serious, right?

How am I supposed to know Satoru has a mortal enemy out there, who out of nowhere appears in front of me at the supermarket. 

Sukuna called it fate, but what was it really?

With a light bite in my cheek, Satoru brings me back to the present as his fingers once again enter me lazily. 

“This is unfair”, I complain against his neck, thinking if I touch him more it will make him more excited, giving me what I want. 

My hands wander under his shirt, along his hard abs to his nipples, stroking them slightly. That move earned me a rough exhale from him between shut teeth. 

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Everything, I will promise you everything”, I am so desperate to get off. I can feel the coil inside me building up but it isn’t going to snap at this slow pace.

“Whatever happens between us, never fuck Sukuna, promise.”

Again his insecurity when it comes to Sukuna and me. Is it really a jealousy thing? I can’t imagine Satoru ever being jealous of someone. 

“I promise, really, I will always be on your team even if you don’t want me to.”

He looks at me with an amazed grimace before locking our lips again, finally speeding up. The lazy circles on my clit turn into rougher ones as his fingers pump into me. I breathe heavily into his shoulder as my legs start to quiver and the strength to keep them up tardily leaves me. 

He knows exactly where my weak spot is, as he supports my weight with his muscular arm, hitting the same sweet spot over and over again as his fingers work their wonders to make me cum. The coil that was built on at the slow movements, quickly grows bigger before it explodes and I cum undone around his fingers. My walls pulsate around his fingers as he lets me ride my orgasm out on them. 

I’m out of breath but I can’t wait any longer. I want him inside me right now. With shaky hands I open his pants and lift myself up on my wobbly knees to pull his pants down. His erection springs free and yeah, no baby carrot. 

Nevertheless I am still intimidated but I had him already in me and I survived it and even better liked, no loved it.

“Slow down, partner”, Satoru yelps out of breath as I position myself on top of his dick. 

“No.”, I kiss him and sink down on him, feeling my walls painfully stretch around his massive girth. He leans back, pressing his back against the wall for support and giving me time to adjust and do everything at my speed. His eyes are closed and I know he wants to do nothing more than move his hips at an incredible pace to drill into me.

But he is patient as I slip slowly down his cock, letting out small whines, each one making his cock flutter inside of me. Once I am all settled down, I take a short breather adjusting myself.

Soon enough I start to roll my hips to let him know I am ready. His reaction was immediate as he grips my hips hard, boring his fingers into the soft flesh on my stomach and just fucks raw into me. I gasp and tears escape my eyes at the sudden rough friction. My eyes roll back as he lets go off my hip with one arm, laying it now flat against my back and gripping my neck from behind. Hand in my hair to keep me steady as he slides his dick in and out of me with loud groans. He has to use a lot of strength to not keep me from falling off his lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not breaking a sweat over this. His tongue moves from my shoulder to my neck, up my jaw to my mouth where it means mine. 

I’m so full of him I feel everything so intense that it is mind numbing. Whenever his white pubic hair meets my clit, it sends a shiver down from head to toe. 

“Maybe I will just mark you”, he bites into my lip before kissing me again: “Making it clear who you belong to.”

He lets go of my hip and grabs my jaw between his long fingers to make me look at him.

“Would you like that, angel? Letting everyone know you are mine?”

I nod and babble a few yesyesyes.

Surely this is all filthy sex talk, right? He doesn’t really mean it. I am not his. 

“I could cum on your face and make you walk around like that or fill you up with so much of my cum your birth control fails and you will be round with my baby.”

Whatever he wants, he can have and I make sure to tell him that as I wail into the palm of my hand to keep myself quiet. 

This time we aren’t team players as we both chase our own release. His thrusts get sloppier as he supports my legs with his hands so I don’t break down on him. My chest is pressed against his, since I lost the power to uphold my body on its own. Before I lose my strength completely I climax and my head falls heavy on his shoulder as I start to see stars behind my closed eyes. 

“No one fucks you so good.”

I’m not sure if it was a statement or a question, but I can’t speak anyway, so I just nod against his hard shoulder.

Feeling my walls open and close around his dick, Satoru slides one more time fully into me, his pubic hair chilling against my clit again as he fills me up with his warm sperm, twitching inside of me until he is completely milked.

My head is resting on his shoulder and he is resting his’ on mine. 

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but after a while Satoru slaps my ass, making me jolt. 

“Time to get ready, can’t let them kids wait, right?”, he pulls me up, his dick slipping out of me, suddenly leaving me feeling empty and abandoned. Carefully he carries me to the side, my naked ass on the bench now as he gets up and pulls his pants up. He picks up my clothes and grabs a few paper towels from the shelf, placing all next to me on the bench while I am still in a state of trance. He smirks at my fucked out gooey form and slicks my hair out of my face. 

“I need to discuss something with Suguru. I will be back once the course starts.”

For a second it looks like he is leaning in for a kiss, but then he retracts and pats my shoulder like we are buddies!? As if his dick wasn’t a few seconds ago getting freaky inside my bowels. He turns around and leaves without saying another word or waiting for a response. 

I got my draw. 

But with the worst outcome possible. Being left alone, naked, with his cum leaking out of me and nothing has changed, I still know nearly nothing about him. 

Sukuna is his enemy, but why exactly does he hate him so much? It can’t be just that he is on an opposite team. 

And what does Suguru have to do with this? 

I lied to all of them. I told them I had no idea who Sukuna was. 

Well, that’s actually true to an extent, but I didn’t mention our past. 

If Satoru can have his secrets, I can have mine too.

As long as they don’t come back and bite me in the ass. 

[atomic-raunch]

Shirley Skates by Edmund Leja

[doodlenoodleboi]

PKIM (please keep in mind)

Excuse me bitches, Bros and non-binary hoes. If you don’t like the content, just move on with your life. The fact that you took the time out of your day to type your hateful message as pitiful. I got a message about my tags, bro chill it’s just tags but anyways, I just do random tags not related to the content, exposure reasons. The more tags you add more exposure you can get. And people like me sometimes could like one part of media and like another part of media, but not follow tag that has that type of media.

Thanks! Please don’t harass your local college students. (lol I’m in dual enrollment) 

𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌

[d1gitvlpupz]

skate into my heart

“babes, you gotta let go-“

“to hell with that!” fell retorted as he kept a death grip on fresh’s sleeves, his body shaking as he stood awkwardly on the skateboard that decorated in various stickers and covered in colourful graffiti. to be honest, he doesn’t even know how fresh managed to get him to do this. “keep tensin’ like dat n’ yer gonna get a charlie horse, ya dig?” “i’m bout to give ya a charlie horse if you keep playin’ with me.” fell threatened that made fresh laugh.

keeping his free hand on the latter’s back to support him, he gently guided him through the process of riding a skateboard. and while he was trying to be as supportive as he can, fresh couldn’t help but giggle a little when he would teasingly let go of fell. “fell, babygirl, it ain’t even dat hard. ya just gotta loosen up, ya get what i mean?” fresh instructed while walking with fell, who was as stiff as a statue on the board. “fu- funk no.” fell replied.

fresh snickered when he censored fell’s foul mouth, “ya know i gotcha, dollface. look, see? ya got it.” fresh praised as he subtly loosened his grip on fell to try and build up his confidence. fell kept his eyelights glued to his shoes as he wobbled a little bit. “this lame as fu- funk.” “brah, no it’s not. its very bodacious.” fresh defended with the writing on his glasses changing to the word ‘radical’, soon his hand that was on fell’s back moved away, however fell was still clinging onto his sleeves for dear life. “ya gon make us fall, babes.” “if im goin’ down, ya comin’ with me.” fresh snickered as he continued walking a bit with fell before he gave him a little push.

“ya doin’ great!” fresh called out after fell as he watched him skate down the street, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick photo of him, giggling to himself. meanwhile, fell was slowly gaining confidence in riding as he straightened up his back as let his body do what felt natural, still stiff as hell as the speed of the board picked up. “fresh? fresh!” fell called out that made the latter look up from his phone, causing fresh to immediately run after his boyfriend who was going fast as hell down the street. “baby, break!” “how!?”

fresh panted, using his magic to teleport closer towards fell, unable to get exactly where he was because his focus was torn between two things; the coordinates of where he needs to go and trying to get fell to break before he hurt himself. “your foot! no-! your other foot!” fresh yelled out, chasing after the other. he knew he should’ve worn his heelies.

successfully, fresh managed to gain enough focus to teleport in front of fell. however, his calculations were a little off because as soon as he landed, fell had crashed into him. the impact knocked the damn wind out of him as he made contact with the gravel of the street, the graffiti covered skateboard hitting him in the shin as his arms instinctively wrapped around fell’s body to try and break his fall.

“diggity dang, dude.. you good..?” fresh asked, his voice strained as he lifted his head up to see fell holding onto him for dear life with his skull buried in his jacket. “never again.” “agreed.” fresh let out a huff, giving fell one last squeeze. “i shoulda recorded dat- ow!” fresh yelped when he felt a punch to his ribs.

[p1mpactivities]

I NEED someone to make a Chris Sturniolo x reader story where the reader is a figure skater and chris is a hockey player cause he used to play hockey, kinda like icebreaker. This would cure me🙏