#thank you so much for letting me yap about this i love you

[badbihsemiluvr]

hi can you please make a jealous se-mi x fem! reader au like smut+some angst and fluff at the end for it like se-mi gets jealous when she sees reader talking or (whatever you prefer) with other girls but it’s just bcoz reader saw some random girl hitting on se-mi and se-mi didn’t right away turn off them so it ended up like se-mi showing that she only has eyes for reader with kinda rough s3x (but only if you’re comfortable with it!) no pressure at all and thanks in advance! your writing is saurr great!!!

jealousy is a drug 🚬 𖥔 ݁ ˖

semi (player 380) x fem reader

!! cw/tw !! 18+, dom semi x sub reader, flirting with other women, jealous + possessive semi, yelling/fighting, mentions of alcohol + cigarettes, car sex, rough sex, degrading, strap on usage (r! receiving), semi refers to her strap as her dick, semi calls the reader a slut often, reader crys during sex, oral (r! receiving), hickeys (giving + receiving), princess treatment once you get home <3

overview: your gf, semi has always been overprotective of you. especially when you talk to/have encounters with other women. but when she does it, it’s ok? jealousy is a two way street, so you decide to teach semi a lesson in jealousy during your night out at the club.

!! an !! hey guys this is a bit of a long one, so prepare urself. if u love toxic angsty smut this one’s for u. also!! this took me HOURS to write, because the entire smut portion got deleted after i spent 2 hours on it, i had a major crash out moment and got such bad writers block after that. anyways, regardless of that incident i feel like this is one of my best works yet, hopefully you guys enjoy it as much as i do! 🤞🏻

you and your girlfriend, semi, live very stressful lives. you guys are in severe debt so you live paycheck to paycheck. it’s rare the two of you have a night out to forget about all the worries of your world. but tonight, the two of you decided to go out to one of the craziest clubs in seoul, club pentagon.

you put on a white slip dress that looked angelic against your skin tone, and your favorite thigh high boots. semi’s glossy eyes were practically glued to your figure, she stared in awe.

“like what you see?” you say, a slight smirk forming on your lips. “mhmmm” semi hums, eyes still observing every inch of your body.

“isn’t that a little too scandalous to go out in?” semi says with a hint of protectiveness in her tone. “no i don’t think so, it’s a club everyone will be dressed like this.” you say with firmness in your voice, knowing you weren’t gonna change your outfit to make your girlfriend happy.

“let’s get going then.” semi said as she slides her hand behind your waist, leading you out the door. once you arrive to her car, she opens the door for you like the gentle man she is. she gets in the drivers seat shortly after.

semi cranks the engine, and turns on the radio. the two of you yap, and admire the beautiful sights of seoul as you make your way to the club. it’s quite a drive from your shared apartment.

finally, you arrive to the club. semi pulls in the parking lot and finds a spot. “you ready, love?” semi says. you nod with a gleam in your eye, ready to drink away all your problems. you and semi walk hand in hand to the line to enter the club. after what felt like forever waiting in the line, due to the club being the most popular in seoul, the bouncer lets the both of you in.

the second you and semi enter the club, she grabs your wrist, immediately leading you through the haze of neon flashing lights to the bar. she orders the both of you some shots of soju, to start the night off.

the bartender slides the glasses her way, and semi hands you two shots to take. you throw them back in unison, the burn of the alcohol lingered in your throat. you take a moment to look around, taking in the crazy environment of the club. there were girls throwing up in corners, people putting god knows what in their drinks, and a thick smoke filled the air.

you look semis way, and see a gorgeous tall brunette girl approaching her. you didn’t think much of her, until she started flirting with your girlfriend. she slid effortlessly onto the empty seat beside semi, and drunkenly muttered “well aren’t you something.”

semi let out a chuckle, brushing her fingers through her messy black hair. “is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?” she says with a slight smirk on her lips. you felt a fire growing inside of you, how could she be so naive. this woman was clearly flirting with her, and she didn’t even turn her away. she was playing into it, and that made you pissed.

“I don’t know wanna find out?” the woman said, eyes black with lust. semi shook her head, with an amused look on her face. “well aren’t you bold?” semi says eyes wide. you roll your eyes at her comment, grabbing semis wrist pulling her back into reality. the reality that she was in a relationship, with you.

semi finally turned the woman down by saying, “sorry, i’m actually in a relationship.” signaling to you. the woman is slightly taken aback when she sees you with a cold look on your face, apologies quickly escape her lips. you brushed off the apology, not necessarily mad at the woman. but more so mad at semi, for leading her on. it made you wonder, does she do this often?

semi turned to you, seemingly unfazed by the encounter and unaware of how mad it really made you. she mutters “i’m gonna step out for a quick cigarette, that ok?” you roll your eyes, wondering if she was gonna go sneak out to hook up with the woman from earlier. it’s not like the club cared if people smoked inside.

as semi slipped away to smoke, you sat at the bar filled with anger and frustration. “can i get another round?” you uttered in a low tone to the bartender. he nodded and slipped you another round of shots. ?you downed the alcohol faster than you could think of all the possibilities of what your girlfriend could be doing.?

as the alcohol from earlier started to kick in, your angry demeanor loosens up. you think of a idea that surely will give semi a taste of her own medicine. a subtle smirk forms on your lips, knowing what you were about to do was slutty, but you didn’t give a fuck.

you get up from the bar, making your way to the dance floor. the air was heavy with with sweat, lust, and smoke. the loud bass of the music and people yelling were so loud you could barely think straight.

you spot a woman in the distance with short black curly hair, slightly covering her face, and a cold composure that reminded you a lot of semi. she looked like she was alone, and could use some company from a pretty girl like you.

you approached the woman, tapping on her shoulder. she turned back to face you, her eyes looking you up and down taking in the sight of your beauty.

“you looked lonely, wanna dance?” you say in a low tone, returning the stares she was giving you. she nods, agreeing to the offer. you grab her by the wrist and pull her closer to the door, making sure semi would see you guys when she came back. the woman shakes her head in confusion at your sudden actions.

she grabs your waist and you wrap your arms around her neck, the two of you start dancing. “you drag me across the club like a maniac, don’t i at least get the privilege of knowing your name?” she whispers in your ear as the two of you sway to the music. you smirk at her words, and mutter “it’s y/n, and why does that matter?” “because i needed a name to put with this pretty face.” the woman says as her rough, calloused hands grazed over your jawline, tucking some loose hairs behind your ear.

as the two of you dance and make meaningless conversation, semi comes back into the club after her smoke break outside. her eyes scan the club, looking for you, clearly no longer at the bar anymore. she finally spots you in the distance, dancing with the mystery woman.

semi couldn’t even form coherent thoughts when she sees the woman all over you, the way you were smiling at her, the hand placement. semi angrily walks over to the two of you. she grabs you tightly, instantly removing you from the woman.

“and who the fuck are you?” she shouts passionately at the woman. “uhh, i’m saebyeok? and who are you.” the woman says with confusion evident in her tone. “i’m your worst nightmare. get the fuck away from my girlfriend” semi curses at her, dragging you outside of the club by the wrists like a kid that’s about to get scolded.

“what the fuck was that about?” she yells at you, her voice filled with intense anger. “just a friend, i was dancing with to pass the time while i waited on my girlfriend to finish doing god know what.” you say, your voice shaky. hearing your words, semi gets more heated.

“excuse me? i told you i needed a smoke, what the hell else did you think i was doing?” she mutters slowly backing you up to a nearby wall. you felt an ounce of fear take over, you’ve never seen semi THIS jealous to the point of physical anger.

tears slowly escape your eyes, smudging your eyeliner as semi continues to yell at you. people on the streets were looking at the encounter as you just stood there and took it, scared of what semi might do next. you knew she would never get physical with you, but with the alcohol in her system, that might change things.

semi noticed the stares, and didn’t want the police called for causing such a disturbance. she grabbed you and whispered “we’ll continue this conversation in the car.” with an annoyed look plastered on her face, acting like the people staring were interrupting something.

you and semi head back to the car, not speaking at all, but a heavy unspoken anger filled the air. the second you got to the car semi unlocked it, this time not opening the door for you. she scoffs and gets in the drivers seat.

the second the two of you are both in the car, the insults continue “you are such a slut, y/n? you know that. i step out for one second and your already over there with a new bitch.” semi practically barks in your face.

you finally snap at the way she’s treating you, practically sobbing you say “why do you think i did it, semi? i don’t have any fucking interest in that saebyeok. i did it to make you jealous.” semi’s demeanor slightly changes when she hears your muffled words. “what? why would you wanna make me jealous?” she says with confusion in her voice, acting naive like she didn’t know what she did to you.

“oh my god semi, don’t be fucking stupid. that woman from the bar earlier, she clearly wanted you and you were feeding into it.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. when you say that, semis eyes soften. “baby, i had no clue you felt that way about that little encounter. i truly thought it was a meaningless interaction with a drunk girl. i mean i was laughing the whole conversation.” semi says, her demeanor switching from mad to understanding.

“well, it really did hurt me. it made me feel ignored, and worthless. especially when you had to leave the second after talking to that woman.” semis hand locks with yours, the other brushing the loose hairs behind you ears. she gently says “baby, i will always be yours. no other woman could compare to you. and i wouldn’t risk my future with you for some with some stupid drunk whore.” she laughs, eyes glazing over your body.

the heavy breathing and tears stop, as semi comforts you. her fingers ghost over your thigh, and she places a light peck on your lips. “i love you so much, princess.” she whispers, her face inches from yours.

you pull her in for a more passionate kiss, the sympathy in the air quickly turning to lust. semi pulls away from the kiss and whispers in your ear “how about i show you who you really belong to?” you nod, biting your lip. semi signals you to move to the backseat. you immediately crawl to the back, sprawling your body across the seat already needy for your girlfriends touch.

out of the corner of your eye you catch semi shuffling through the passenger seat console. your mind wonders what she could be looking for in this moment. semi finally pulls her 8 inch black strap out of the console, a devilish smirk forming on her lips and she crawls to the backseat to join you.

“you just casually keep a strap in your console?” you laugh. “well you never know, especially with a whore like you.” she utters, while throwing her shirt and pants off. she throws the strap on the floor board, wasting no time to get your clothes off.

“hands up.” semi says pulling your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. semis eyes glaze over the sight of your nearly naked body, only the lacy fabric of your lingerie covering you. she fiddles with your bra straps and says “you wore this for me, huh?” you nod your head at her words, knowing it was true. you loved dressing pretty for semi.

“well you know just what i like, such a pretty girl.” semi says as her long fingers ghost over your body. semi pushes you back down, hovering on top of you, she leaves you feeling trapped due to the size difference.

semi loved the authority she had over you in this moment. her lips make their way to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. light moans escape your mouth as semi leaves her mark. you feel her teeth every now and then bite the skin on your neck, making you squirm.

you feel semi smirk against your skin as her marks trail down your neck. she pulls away for a moment and you ask if you can mark her up. semi says “of course baby, i want everyone to know exactly what we did in this car.”

your soft, pink lips wrap around semis neck. she lets out low grunts as you suck on her sensitive skin. semis hand trail over all your curves as you mark her up. when your done you pull away, letting semi take control again. “good girl.” semi mutters, making you feel butterflies in your stomach. it was rare semi praised you during sex.

semi wastes no time, unclasping your pretty lace bra with one hand, sliding off your thong or with the other. which by the way, was completely soaked and ruined. she threw your undergarments to the floor board, shortly after taking hers off and sliding the strap onto her waist.

semis dark glossy eyes scan over your body in complete lust as she hovers over you. “i wanna fuck you in missionary, so i can see your tits bounce up and down.” semi says in a raspy low tone. semi positions her strap in between your thighs, her tip teasing your already soaked entrance.

she slowly sinks her strap into you, letting your tight pussy adjust to the size of her big cock. you let out a yelp, due to the suddenness of her entering you. “god, your so tight, you’d think a slut like you would already be stretched out by now.” she mutters as she slowly starts thrusting her cock in and out of you.

her pace is slow and passionate, which shortly would turn into the complete opposite, rough and merciless. a string of moans and curses escape your lips as her speed starts to increase. you want to feel her dick, in every inch, every crevice of your body. you didn’t care how sore you would be the following day, she could put you in a wheelchair and you would thank her.

semi grabs your boobs, and started playing with them as she slammed her cock in and out of your squelching pussy. “mmmm” semi hummed, loving the sight of your boobs bouncing up and down with every thrust. you loved how rough she was with you, you didn’t care if it hurt, you just wanted to feel her, deep inside of you.

your practically screaming in pleasure as semi speeds up her thrusts by the minute, you are a complete mess for her. lewd sounds of your pussy being destroyed and your desperate moans fill the car. semi puts a tight grasp on your waist to create a rhythm with her thrusts. “stop squirming, god why are you so sensitive.” semi says as she cocks her head to the side. you throw your head back in pleasure, and your back arches as her rhythm is hitting you in just the spot you need her most.

your breath hitches, tears can’t help but escape your eyes from the feeling of semis rough pounding into your cervix, repeatedly hitting your spot. semi notices your crying and says sarcastically “that’s what good dick does to a slut like you.” well, what she didn’t know that the tears were a mix of intense pleasure and pain. your eyes roll back into your head at her sarcastic comment, god she’s so hot.

sweat causes semis hair to stick to her forehead as she’s fucking you, mercilessly. she can’t take her eyes off of your boobs and the pretty faces your making, every inch of your body being explored by her.

you feel your body getting weaker at her mercy. semi’s dick was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. you were in complete ecstasy. your a moaning mess, that can barely form coherent sentences, you manage to get out a weak “i-im getting close, semi, don’t stop.” “already? god that’s pathetic.” semi mutters. her pace slows down, and speeds back up leaving you on edge.

you were practially in heat. your jaw hanging open in bliss at the feeling of semis dick deep inside of you, fucking you dumb. you couldn’t manage to get out any words besides loud cries of pleasure. you feel your body tremble, your walls start to clench around semis cock. you arch your back in complete bliss as semi smacks your ass, leaving a slight sting. your vision goes fuzzy and you throw your head back, you scream as you release all over semis cock. she continued thrusting throughout your orgasm to make it last longer. she pulls out and your juices coat her plastic cock.

“suck it.” semi demands you, like your some kind of dog or something. but you obey, you wrap your big pouty lips around her cock. semi pushes your head down, practically making you choke on her dick. not missing a single drop of your cum.

once you’ve sucked her dry, you lay on the sweaty car seat exhausted and absolutely fucked out. feeling lifeless, you look over at semi sat on the seat beside you, her messy black hair sticking to her face, catching her breath after fucking the living shit out of you.

you get up to grab your clothes, and semi grabs your wrist tightly. “we’re not done here, understand me?” she says demandingly, you nod and sit back on the car seat. semi slides the strap off of her waist and throws it in the front seat. she crawls to the front to push the seat forward, providing us with more room. you wonder what she has planned next to do to you.

semi gets on her knees, positioning herself in front of your closed legs. “you really thought we were done here, i haven’t even had my dessert.” semi says a slight smirk playing on her lips, signaling you to spread you legs. you throw your legs over semi, your knees resting on her shoulders. her face inches from your pussy, you can feel hear breath.

“so pretty baby, all mine.” she says as her fingers tease your already wet folds. you are a needy mess for her, all this teasing has you feeling like an absolute whore. after what felt like forever, semis lips attached to your cunt. you let out a loud moan, and throw your head back at the sensation of her cold lip piercing against your pussy.

semi’s tounge began to move at unimaginable speeds, eating you out like she’s an animal. you moan out semis name, barely able to think straight. at this point, the car windows are foggy, lewd sounds of your pussy being ate, curses and moans fill the air.

semi hums “mhmmm.” into your pussy as her tounge motions continue. you feel vibration pulse throughout your body as semi lets out little hums now and again. you are trembling, barely able to keep your legs open “s-semi, baby i’m getting close.” you moan lightly, tilting your head back from the intense pleasure of semis tounge swirling against your clit.

semi didn’t even realize you said anything, she was completely pussy drunk, with her head buried in between your now closing thighs. her strong hands grasping them open. she was eating you out like it was her last meal.

semi pulls away for a second and says “don’t look at the ceiling, look at me. i wanna see your pretty face when i make your cum.” she wasn’t even eating you out anymore yet just her words formed a giant knot in your stomach. she pressed her lips back against your soaked cunt, and picked up where she left off.

her motions slowing down and speeding up, helping you reach your climax. your eyes locked onto hers as you grabbed her hair, trying to resist the urge to tilt your head back. your body can’t stop shaking and loud moans escape your lips.

semi hummed against your pussy, and before you knew it the knot in your stomach broke. you cry out loudly, releasing all over semis face. she licks your fluids off of her lips, and wipes some of the cum off her face onto her fingers. “open up.” she says placing her fingers in your mouth. your eyes widen as you suck your release off of semis slender fingers.

semi places a kiss on your lips afterward, tasting the juices your lips were coated with “your mine, every inch of you. no one will ever fuck you as good as me.” semi says. you let out a light chuckle agreeing with semi as she gently helps you put your clothes back on.

shortly after, she puts her own clothes back on, adjusting herself before crawling into the drivers seat. you follow, crawling into the passenger seat. semi starts the car looks over at you and says “i think we should just go home baby, nothing in that club is more exciting than what we just did.”

you nod in agreement, saying “yea, i’m absolutely exhausted, i wouldn’t mind another night in.” semis face lights up by the light of her phone typing in your apartment address on the navigation app. semi shoots you a soft smile before pulling out of the club parking lot, heading home.

semi places her hand gently on your thigh. you stare out the window, as the radio hums lightly on the lowest volume notch. the two of you are silent the entire car ride, but a comforting warmth fills the air. even though the two of you aren’t physically saying it, you feel very loved in this moment. it’s the little gestures like this that matter, so much.

semi pulls the car into the parking lot of the apartment complex, she gets out of the car and makes her way over to the passenger side. she opens the door for you and picks you up bridal style, you laugh at the sudden gesture. but deep down you found it cute.

once the two of you arrive at your apartment, semi shuffles through her pockets for the keys. at this point, she’s holding you with one hand. you wrap your arms around her neck for extra support, so you don’t go falling flat to the floor. but somehow she manages to hold you in one hand and the other rummaging for the keys.

you wonder how she does that, she’s so strong. finally, semi finds the key, she jiggles it into the lock. she takes you inside, straight to the bedroom. semi places you on the gently on the bed, like you were the most delicate thing in the world.

she places a sweet kiss on your forehead, admiring your flushed face. semi whispers in your ear “how about we get you all cleaned up.” you agree, feeling gross from the club and sex with semi, a bath is just what you needed.

semi swiftly exited the room to start the bath for the both of you. you wait patiently on the bed, slightly tipsy and exhausted. you see semi walking back into the bedroom with a pack of makeup wipes. she says “let’s take this pretty makeup off baby, before we get in the bath.”

semi’s body slightly hovers over yours, gently rubbing the makeup wipe over your smudged eyeliner and mascara. “all done” she utters as she places a soft kiss on your lips. “your even prettier without makeup.” she says. you feel your cheeks glow red at her words.

semi picks your weak body up bridal style, taking you to the bathroom. once you arrive, semi sits you down on the counter, slowly taking off your dress and undergarments. she then lightly places you in the bath, and starts stripping herself.

after semi takes her clothes off, she gets in the bath with you. the two of you sit in the bath in a comforting silence, the only light in the room provided by a singular candle. “do you want me to help clean you up, baby?” semi offers. “yes i would love that.” you say, letting semi know your gratitude for her caring act.

semi takes the shampoo bottle sitting on the side of the tub, and squeezes some out into her rough hands. she then starts massaging the shampoo through your beautiful hair. the feeling of semis long fingers massaging your scalp sent you into an instant relaxation.

you were so thankful for semi taking care of you. even though she showed no mercy on you in the bedroom, she really does treat you like a princess and would do anything for you.

“relaxed, baby?” semi chuckles, noticing your state of bliss as she massaged her fingers into your scalp. “yea haha, your hands are magic.” you softly exclaim. a smile forms on semis lips. she grabs the small pink cup on the side of the tub, and dips it into the water, pouring it into your hair.

once semi has washed all the shampoo out of your hair, she washes her own hair. you sit and relax staring at semi as she washes up. the light glow of the candle, lit up her face. she was so beautiful, even doing the most simple things she was just otherworldly.

once semi finished up, she grabbed the nearby loofah and put some of your vanilla scented body wash on it. she moved your wet hair out of the way, and started washing you up. not making you lift a finger, semi washes your entire body. now and then she would ask you to turn around or sit up. you silently let semi clean you and when she’s done you thank her with a short, but loving peck.

semi washes herself off after. you admire the way her body looked as the soap bubbles covered it, her soft fair skin looked beautiful. semi finished washing herself off and gets up out of the bath. she then grabbed you out of the bath, your naked bodies pressed against each other. she sets you down, and wraps a big fluffy towel around your wet body. “you smell so good.” she mutters softly.

you smile at her sweet remark as the two of you walk to your bedroom. you shuffle through the drawers and ask semi if you can wear one of her oversized t-shirts. “of course baby, you’ll look so cute in it.” semi says. you put on some underwear and semis t-shirt and immediately crawl into bed as semi gets herself dressed.

you stare at your girlfriend as she puts on her grey sweatpants and black t-shirt, such a simple outfit yet she made it look so sexy. you can’t help yourself but stare. she looked in the mirror, brushing her wet messy back beside out of her face.

she noticed your reflection staring at her in the mirror, she didn’t say anything but it warmed her heart. she shortly joined you in bed, wrapping her big arms around you. she placed a gentle peck on your forehead saying “feel better baby? i could tell you needed some time to relax, after the night we’ve had.” you nod and exclaim “yea semi, that was much needed. thank you for pampering me.”

semis cheeks light up crimson red at your words. spoiling and taking care of you just came so naturally to her, but she appreciates it even more knowing it makes you feel loved. “i’m glad, i think we both needed it.” she exclaimed softly.

you feel yourself slowly drifting off, from the extremely emotionally exhausting day. you feel so safe in semis arms. as your nearly asleep, you feel semis hand brushing through your hair, making you open your eyes. “i really love you, y/n you know that.” semi says with pure love and adoration in her voice.

butterflies fly around in your stomach at her words, she said i love you a lot but those 3 words made you feel so secure. “i love you too, semi. and ill never love anyone else.” you say as semi places a soft but passionate kiss on your lips. “good, cause i almost beat a bitch up tonight.” semi chuckles sarcastically. you smile into semis arms, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

semi’s fingers ghost over your lower back, tracing lazy circles as you sleep peacefully in her arms. she knows deep down in her heart, she wants every night to be as sweet as tonight, forever. . . ♡

TYSM FOR READING I REALLY PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THIS!! MORE FICS COMING SOON :p

[frostbiteisthenewjackieshauna]

Hiiii, can you please write your dating shauna hc please? thank youuu 🤓

shauna shipman my cutiepie!! (sfw, pre crash/no crash!au)

Lemme take it from the top

she’s wayyy too shy to ask you out

she kind of eyes you all the time and can barely pay attention in classes that you have together

and Jackie bugs her to just ask you out!!

what’s the worst that could happen? you saying no?

but that is what she feared most

yearning was something she did great, and she’d rather do that then deal with rejection, so she just stays quiet

which does turn out to be very difficult once your history teacher assigns seats to everyone

and just her luck, she’s right next to you!!

believe me, paying attention was hard at first too, but now it’s downright impossible

that’s why she starts doing worse in history

which is surprising, she’s a straight A student

so the teacher gives her a tutor

you!

your guys’ first tutoring session was awkward as hell

you thought she was rude (even though she never seemed that way to you) since she barely talked or memorized anything you said

or tried to teach her

she’s a little embarrassed too, it’s usually her that tutors others

however with a big push from Jackie she does apologize, saying she’s always weird around new people

which is true, but this was a bit different, definitely

still, the tutoring gets funner and less dreaded, and it ended pretty fast- as soon as Shauna broke the ice with you, she could finally pay mind to class

and you two do become friends

you’re one of her only friends, really

until she blurts it out while you were having coffee

“I mean I do like you. Not as a friend.”

she said, trying to convince you she was joking

it was obviously not supposed to come out, but you guys were rambling about falling in love with friends

and she YAPPED

which made that thought that was supposed to stay buried deep come out

and you went through with it until the rest of the date hangout

and then kissed her before getting out of her car

it was a hurried peck, neither of you being all that experienced

she gave you those eyes.

you know the ones.

which made you kiss her again

I mean how could you not??

this time it was deep and passionate, and it turned into a full blown makeout session with you in her lap

the kind of sesh that you both enjoyed so much you felt no need to go further

after that day, she was officially your girlfriend!! yay!!

“I’ve wanted to make you mine for a long time.” you said

“You- yeah uh, sure! Of course, yeah, yours.”

you and Jackie became total besties, playfully making fun of Shauna together

you probably heard Jackie saying “Get a room!” more then any other words in history

but on a serious note, you knew how important their friendship was and made no effort to get in the way of it

but Shauna just wanted to be around you always

calls you over to just chill and do nothing

she just relishes being in your presence, no matter what you do or who else you’re with

short lil makeout sessions while waiting for Jackie to emerge from the house when you go to pick her up for school in the morning

also I cannot stress this enough: wearing. her. flannels.

she has a bizarre amount of them

and she notices that they keep going missing…

doesn’t even try to ask for them back, because she melts as soon as she sees you in one

plays you her “weird” music

is ecstatic when you end up liking it

baking together!!

i have a feeling she’s an amazing baker

you guys do it for fun, to try out recipes or sometimes for charity!!

in the beginning she only lets you measure dry ingredients but relents as soon as you pout

most of your dates are intimate like that

she loves being personal, maybe not secret but does like privacy

not big on PDA at all

the most she’ll do is hold your hand

back to date night though

since dating you, she got so much closer to Tai and Van because you keep going to double dates!!

omg Tai and you listening to them ramble about their nerdy shit

it’s so cute really, you guys shoot each other knowing looks across the table

other then them, you meet all of the team

but still, Tai, Van, and Jackie stay your favorites (other then Shauna obviously)

also! half her journal entries are about you

how pretty you looked, something you’d told her, writes down little details of the stories you tell her that she knows you’d appreciate her knowing

she’s completely devoted to you, and can do nothing to help it

(you feel the same way)

and you love how cute and shy she is around you

especially in the beginning

but later on, she can be more then bold, trust

overall, dating Shauna would be super soft and intimate in every way shape and form

it’s not all that thrilling, but cozy and comfortable

[myokk]

MADDDYYYYY !!!!!!! 💖💖💖 (& ELOISE!!!!!!)

I'm slower than molasses as usual 🤭🐌 technically where i live I'm only one day late which is a miracle, truly 😆💖

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL (this will conclude my bday spam, I promise) 🥳✨️🫶 it doesn't surprise me how much gorgeous art and love you received for your special day. You're such a ray of sunshine in this fandom. Your art and writing are both so wonderful and gave me so much inspiration, but it was definitely your super kind and yappy nature that made it feel safe and fun to actually participate in this fandom instead of just lurking 😆💖💖 THANK YOU × 1000000000000 for being you and for your art and passion and just for being a generally awesome human. 💖🫂💖🫂

I hope you've been having the best time enjoying the mountains, getting settled, and life slowing down again 💖 *irl hermit mode reactivated*

(I had to seriously adjust my ambitions after this month of craziness LOL this was meant to be a lil cover of sorts for the comic im making you, which was also supposed to be done for your birthday.........but I'll get to work on that now without a deadline which will be the best because I can let my inner perfectionist run wild 🤭 also, I know clumsy isn't meant to be Eloise, but, you know I love imagining her/her variants as the mc in all your works and I especially wanted to see her in this romantic/moody divination setting💖)

Can't wait to learn more from you and create more art (maybe even write) alongside ya this year. 🫶✨️ I hope it's the most spectacular new year of ✨️YOU✨️

DANI 🫠🫠🫠♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

AÑDLCLDKKFLSÑXÑDÑÑSLFKSJFJEBCBID AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU ARE TOO SWEET I LOVE THIS SO SO SO SO SO MUCH😭♥️ LOOK AT HER🥹 ALKDJCJSKCJDJSJSJ YOU GOT HER BRAT ATTITUDE DOWN *PERFECTLY*🤭🤭 & omg you finished sooner than I expected😆♥️ ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I CANT WAIT TO SEE THE COMIC OF THIS SCENE BC I LOVE THE DIVINATION SCENE SO MUCH AS YOU KNOW🤭 (I love putting Eloise into all of these oneshots…even if I don’t name her it is always the same sweetheart brat♥️♥️♥️)

I am SO happy we somehow started talking last year & now look at us🥹🥹🥹 my (other) Canadian wife…♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ interacting with you ALWAYS makes my day & ALWAYS makes me smile!! Nobody else I talk with really gets all of my weird lifestyle adjustments/health stuff like you do😆 & I always love talking about reading & hearing about your life & literally just yapping about EVERYTHING with you !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 (be prepared for some Count of Monte Cristo spam STAT !!!!)

THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU ANGEL🫂🫂���🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

[dollfacefantasy]

hiii kennyyy !!

i just thought you should know that you’re responsible for me falling in love with mr. dick grayson !! rahhh i barely know anything about him but since reading ‘if i was a rich girl’ ive been lowkey crushing on that man !! i’ve read up on him a little and kinda need more. (i also need him in my arms and inside of me)

how did you ‘discover’ nightwing ? was it through a fic or a tv show ? also there are so many shows where’s he’s featured in - where do you recommend should one start ? (sorry if you’ve talked about this before <3)

hi!! also no worries!! first of all, it’s such a high compliment to say i introduced you to him so thank you so much <33 that’s one of my favorite things to hear. also no worries, i haven’t talked about this before but umm even if i had i have no issues talking about him again hehe

so i was like introduced to nightwing as a little kid on the show teen titans. on there, dick grayson is robin but they do an episode where they see the future and see nightwing (and they give him pretty long hair hehe). he was like one of my first fictional crushes cause idk. he was a cutie.

the show is for kids but idk i would still recommend if you’re interested in his character or you like animation or like just wanna have something on in the background because the stories and character dynamics are pretty good (alsooo i used to have a huge crush on slade in this show too so fun fact about me 🙏)

after that i watched young justice which is like my favorite version of him. he’s robin in the first season, but after that he’s nightwing. when i write about dick, in my head it’s this version.

i totally recommend this show too if you like his character/how i write him. but also this show has a lot of good stories in general and a lot of the other characters on there are pretty interesting and fun to watch too!!

if you do end up watching, i hope you enjoy!! besides those two things, i have read some comics with him and he’s in a lot of the dc animated movies, just none really stand out enough to me to recommend.

[tetzoro]

omg hiii hi hi ! good morning & happy wednesday friendz !!!! today is a brand new day so let’s try to have a magnificent one ! i hope you find somethin to make ya smile today teehee & remember that you deserve to get the yummiest treat today ( ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩) ! ! 🤍💫

[bioluminescentfrog]

for which ranked player do you have the most channel points for, and why? got any recommendations for people to watch?

NONNIEEEE thank you for this ask i love you forever. OK so the ranked guys! As for most points, its kinda hard since some people are on and off ranked, but for people i would generally consider ranked players, I 100% have the most for rowl, simply bc 1- hes good background noise 2- ive been watching him the longest 3- he doesnt have any points redemptions. I'm at 94.9k for him, then next is hax with 74k and two meow purchases, then mongey with 48.7k and. i have redeemed so many bigbigmongeys. And finally doog with 32k points. ish. I have the most from hax bc he streams at great times for me usually and i have a sub, so extra points :')

BUT YEAH RECS honestly just those 4 that i mentioned, i love them very much. If you want a yapper, I would say hax all the way- he's very energetic usually, a great player (although inconsistent), and even though he's working on the 100 hardcore challenge at the moment, he still does ranked occasionally. He listens to mostly piano, which i really like. most streamers have mid music and its tolerable at best, but imo but hax music goes hard ^-^

Second, i think bigbigmongey is awesome. He doesnt play music, so you can do your own music, he's a good player, and honestly, he's the most expressive nomic streamer. Very chaotic, but very funny, so i always have a good time in his chat. You will also see many tumblrinas there :^ in general, good player, hilarious guy, and very silly all around

Third is Rowl, i mostly watch him when im very sleepy as his music isnt very chaotic, and i have fallen asleep to his streams many times. Rowl is a fun player to watch if you want a good player, but be careful, his chat is scary and he can get tilted easily. It terrifies me. I think ive sent maybe 10 messages ^-^

Last but not least is doog. I love how he plays minecraft (?) Like yes, he is cracked, i think we're all aware of that, but he has a way of scouting terrain and reacting in-game when something gets messed up that feels very. him. Again, mostly a streamer i watch as background noise at night or when i wake up, but i do still enjoy his streams

Additionally, Ive started watching retropog recently and even though his stream times suck for me and he doesnt stream often, he's a mic aussie streamer and honestly. just seems very chill. yk. Beefsalad also has very pleasant streams, also i get to see carlos (the dog) every time he uses tiktok :] dolqin is another good runner and fun streamer but he doesnt stream much. oxidiot too!!! there are just too many fantastic runners to fit into one post. but yeah! those are my frogs. my guys. blorbos from my ranked. i hope you like them :D

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

hi :') so because i make a ton of planymphia art and all my most popular posts are planymphia related, i just felt the need to say that i'm going to be taking an indefinite break from making art of them/posting about them, specifically plane jane. no need to read this unless you want to!!!

sooo yes this is partly because of her diddy tweet that IMO was very poor taste regardless of her stance on diddy himself but it's also just something i've been thinking about since the chappell roan incident earlier this year?

i don't believe plane is a horrible person nor do i believe someone is a horrible person if they continue to support her after this. this is way more about the fact that she has a very specific sense of humor that often tends to make light of things other people don’t consider appropriate (like the diddy situation or chappell roan's not wanting to be photographed without her consent) and i'm realizing i just don't like that very much, full stop. to be totally transparent it also doesn't help that SOME- not all!!!- of her fans will defend her to their last breath regardless of what she says/does and act like others are being overly sensitive for being offended by her humor. no one i'm friends with on here is like this as far as i know which i'm very grateful for but these people definitely do exist :/

don't get me wrong, it makes me sad to take a step back from planymphia because i've met so many amazing people through this side of tumblr and i really do like making content for them (i literally just finished a longterm art piece based off of a fic about them!! the timing could not be worse!!!). ultimately though i just can't justify spending all this time and effort making fan content based around someone that i personally don't even like that much at this point, especially when there are so many other wonderful queens/ships for me to support

in conclusion... i don't really want to associate myself with planymphia/plane for the time being. i don't know what i'll do with my in-progress and planned WIPs, maybe i'll either recycle them for another ship or come back to them someday, i'm not sure yet. in the meantime please do not come in my replies or my askbox arguing either in support of or against plane <3 thank you for understanding <3

[emily-mooon]

I’m kicking my feet and giggling abt it w you btw I’m solidarity

I’m yapping about her over popcorn :3

[olymphianblood]

ok guys its not funny anymore when is d&p hard lauching im starting to getting anxious /hj

[gyuswhore]

Cherry Picker [1]

«« "Do me a favour and forget your mouth guard next time. Let the puck punch you in the mouth if I can't." »» 

Choi Seungcheol x reader | part of the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios!

Part 1: 19k | Part 2

warnings: Hockey player! Seungcheol, figure skater! reader, *deep breath* ENEMIES TO LOVERS, angst, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], toxic friends, cheol has anger issues, kkuma appearance, @miniseokminnies makes also makes a fluffy appearance, injuries, mentions of blood, smut tags in the next part

synopsis: Cherry Picking [ice hockey]: a manoeuver in which a player, the floater, literally loafs (spends time in idleness) or casually skates behind the opposing team's unsuspecting defencemen while they are in their attacking zone. There wasn't much you counted on in life; just your skates, your drive and how it felt to win. And of course, your local ice rink, that is now being colonised by an obnoxious hockey team in all their big, loud, stinking glory. Neither does it help that one particular red donned specimen forgets to leave his cherry picking on the ice.

[a/n] (it's a long one but PLEASE read) : ITS HERE FINALLY this was an extremely bumpy ride and I wouldn't have finished it without all of my friends who quite literally kept me going. I know I made an update saying this was gonna end up being 20k max but it turns out my yap-itis is for life </33

the posting schedule for this fic is going to be a little less predictable, I will try to get part 2 out asap but I do not currently have a date for you.

big thank you to @highvern for betaing and making me feel better about this fic, @amourcheol for talking me out of meltdowns multiple times and for giving me some really good scene pointers, @ugh-yoongi for being so patient w me and explaining how ice hockey works with so much patience. ty to @the-boy-meets-evil @tusswrites @lovetaroandtaemin for also proof reading for me 🥹

HUGE thank you to everyone at @camandemstudios who agreed to be part of this collab and being part of the journey as we grow 🫶 please check out the collab masterlist linked above, there's already so many amazing fics posted ready for you to read <33

that being said, I know more about figure skating than I do about hockey, but even so there are defo some inconsistencies in terms of accuracies in this, please bear with me 🫶 remember to reblog or send me an ask telling me your thoughts, id love to hear what you guys think 🥹 masterlist

“CAN I HELP YOU?”

“I’m sorry,” you gravel out. 

“Sorry isn’t gonna give back my hour and thirteen minutes.” 

The strap of your gym bag cuts into your bare shoulder where the collar had slipped, the tight threading sure to leave a scratch by the time this is bound to be done. You’d managed to avoid coach Carroll’s morning cornering for a couple months, going above and beyond by showing up to the icy rink before she could even pull up in the parking lot in her blaring red Porsche, let alone before her ten minute meditations in her cream coloured seats. 

“There was an accident on the highway. Truck tipped over.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Carroll points.

“Illegal truck, I guess.” 

Teeth to tongue, you know you’ve done it. 

She’s in her usual tracksuit, green today, that contrasts her bright red hair in its tight curls. Her glasses are her sensible Ralph Laurens, eyes piercing through the tinted lens as she holds her chin in her hands. Silent, calculating. 

“Fine. Change.” 

Your legs want to give out before you can even get your skates on. 

There were many things Isabella Carroll was good at. The industry would have one of them be a good coach; one of the most expensive, the one that squeezed the life out of her students to inject into the golds, silvers and bronzes they would then bring her on an equally diamond encrusted platter. 

She has also mastered the art of impeccable dressing downs. 

The fact she chose to skip out on verbally humiliating you meant you’d managed to strike that cord. She might be leaving in the next 45 minutes, but she has a very particular way of stretching the minutes into years. 

Like a whipped horse, you scurry into the locker rooms, skin crawling. Your gym bag is positively launched into your designated locker, shoes kicked off as you attempt to stick your right foot into your skates, narrowly missing your heel as it grazes right past the toe pick. 

You slow down after that, not needing a scar on your heel to match the large one on the side of your calf. 

By the time you jog back out, unzipping your jacket to throw onto one of the benches, coach is on the ice, following Marina who zips around on the other end of the rink in her step routine. 

It’s difficult to not rush through your warmups when you’re already late, your splits hardly pushed out as you pray all that running around in the desolate locker rooms was enough to stretch everything out. 

There’s a crash on the illuminated ice as you slip off your skate guards, Marina already practising her Salchows. “You’re in the air for enough time, why can’t you rotate?!” 

Right blade first, you step into the cold encircling, gliding into the centre to begin making your usual rounds around the circumference.

There’s a positive screech of your name from across the ice, wind blowing in your hair as you turn to look. “Do I need to hire someone to hold up your free leg? Fix it, girl!”  

Holding your left leg more taut, you attempt to transition into a jump and spin. You fail, landing on both feet. Somehow, falling on your ass felt like a better conclusion to that arc. 

“Wonderfully executed! Let’s try both hands on the ice too next time, really complete the contemporary finish,” coach hollers out to you as she continues to follow Marina at the same time. 

Trying again, you manage to land on your outer left blade. You receive no comment. 

You try the jump again, pushing into a sit spin. 

The momentum is enough to begin the familiar slack in your scalp, your bun loosening its grip on your hair. Biting your tongue would be dangerous right now, but you would if you could, especially considering the ramifications of your hair coming undone in front of her. 

The crouch as you spin burns your thighs like you’re being branded, pulling yourself back up as you finish abruptly. Still no comment, the unintelligible string of nagging coming from the other side of the rink. 

Marina stands hands on her hips, breathing so heavily she’s nearly heaving. Her blonde hair is loosening far worse than yours, strands framing her face. Coach Carroll waves her hands and shakes her head so quickly you wonder how her glasses haven’t flown off. You didn’t get to see what cardinal sin Marina committed to warrant this reaction, but you feel better knowing she’s exhausted enough to let her insults swim past. 

Ten seconds is enough to catch your breath, moving to do something busy enough to avoid another being screamed at across the ice, again. 

By the end of the remaining forty five minutes, you realised your punishment was also punishing Marina. Coach Carroll remained tailing Marina as you attempted to do everything that would please her, far away from her. Not a direction, praise or neutral comment in sight or sound, sealed with her always expected retorts. 

She leaves without a word, leaving you scrambling to the benches for a seat. Putting your skate guards on is torture, your legs refusing to pull up to reach them. You hardly notice Marina slam down into the seat beside you to mimic you slumped down and head lolled back, eyes closed to the bright ceiling. 

“These skates are gonna kill me,” you whine once you’ve caught your breath, unlacing them to inspect the blistering damage. 

“They’re brand new, what did you expect?” she retorts, moving to sit up straighter. Of course, you were grappling at straws expecting anything akin to sympathy from Marina. 

It was your misfortune that the day you had to break in your skates was the day you’d be late, your heavily bandaged foot still aching as you sit idle. 

Your lungs are still burning when you pull yourself back up, knees buckling the absolute slightest bit as you attempt to take the first baby step back onto the ice. 

“We need to get back to it,” Marina says, and you have half a mind to bite that you were up before her. 

She’s faster at slipping off her skate guards though, and you watch her back as she glides back onto the ice. You follow suit, trailing her as you speak. 

“Hey, I’m sorry Carroll was on your ass because of me. My alarm didn’t go off this morning, I overslept.”

She turns to look at you, ghost of a smile on her face. “Time to go old school I guess, I think my brother left behind his old alarm clock from college.”

“I guess—”

“Besides, I needed that. Wouldn’t have known my Salchows were sucky otherwise.”

She doesn’t let you respond and you’re left to watch as she takes off to warm herself back up. 

Strange as it was, you’ve found her behaviour simply doesn’t affect you anymore, choosing to take her as she was. She pushed you to be better, to work harder. Even now, as your ankle burns and your hip screams, you brace yourself into another axel entry, trying your hardest to keep up with Marina. 

It’s another couple hours when Marina leaves for her second appointment with her personal trainer, leaving you alone. 

It’s less crowded now, despite the head count going from two to one, but you appreciate the alleviation as you continue to practise for the rest of the morning. The rink feels more vast and your hip has stopped its incessant aches. 

Having finished a run through of your routine without music, you move towards the sound booth to turn on the tail end of your track, skating back to the echoing rink to brace yourself for the next four agonising minutes. 

You’ve adjusted your starting position about ten times by the time the silence of the song restarting settles. And then it begins, soft piano as you push yourself off into the throngs of this hellsent routine. 

It’s muscle memory by now, but your stomach lurches before you push into a jump anyway. There isn’t much time to ponder when you’re midair, tight yet contorted, trying to land on the right side of the blade. But there’s a phantom pain in your right ankle, right when you’re at the point of your arc, and you feel the all too dreaded panic flood in. 

You land on both feet, less than ideal but with no one to watch the fail, it was better than falling on your ass. There’s been worse outcomes, so there’s little you can do but continue into the step sequence. 

Trying to shake off that bout of panic, you briefly wonder if the music suddenly had more bass than you’d last checked. Perhaps you just hadn’t been practising like you should, but you make a mental note mid-spin to listen to the track again later tonight for any tidbits you’d missed. 

Your heartbeat is trying to accommodate more air than you can let it, especially as you feel the pulse in your ears quicken as you approach your final jump sequence. The music is louder yet muffled all the same, there’s an incessant banging that you can’t figure out is from your head or a corrupted music file. But you find that sweet spot, deciphering through the ruckus in your brain, and you jump. 

It happens again, the strange ache in your ankle that should be long gone, and just like that, all that panic you shook off in the interim comes hurtling back. The world’s gone silent, blaringly so, and for some heaven known reason, you’ve closed your eyes.

You aren’t so lucky this time round, landing directly on your back with a spectacular crash, the ice cutting cold through your thermals as you slide in the direction of your epic fall. Eyelids opening, they’re met with the spotlighted ceiling, head cushioned by the hard plane of ice beneath you. 

The pain in your ankle’s escaped like a fugitive, done it’s damaged and left you crumpled on the floor. The adrenaline is rushing just enough to keep you from identifying any other awakened aches, but you have a sneaking feeling your hip is going to hate you after this. 

You’re still laying flat on the ice when you realise you're laying in mostly silence. Your music is off, and has been since you came to on the floor. The banging, you realise, wasn’t just in your head either. The unmistakable reverberation of the locker rooms is loud and assuming, noises rattling all the way out onto the echoing rink. 

It takes the strength of a village to pull yourself up, but you do it anyhow, ignoring the blatant protests of your mind and soul as you squint across the rink to the sound booth. 

As you skate towards the gate, you assume it’s Hansol trying to get your attention by disrupting you mid session, but the figure shuffling into view is telling you otherwise. 

It isn’t anyone you know, clearer as you grow closer to the gate. It’s obvious he’s the culprit that turned off your music, your laptop shut and the wire to the speakers disconnected from the port. 

You stare at it pointedly as you grapple for your skate guards. 

The man does nothing but remain with his hands in the pockets of his bright red hoodie, hovering over your laptop as he watches you struggle with your skates. SVT stitched onto the back in black. He’s as blank faced as ever, a stark contrast to your heavy breathing as you come round. 

Standing up straight, you dart between your laptop and this person, waiting for an explanation that seems to be lost in the void. You’re still heaving slightly, scowl forming on your face as this strange man offers you nothing.

“Um, did you—”

“Yeah. It’s four,” he responds, like it was supposed to explain enough. 

“And that means…?”

“We have the rink reserved.”

“But it’s Monday,” you respond. It sounds stupid, but it meant something. The rink was reserved on the weekdays for coach Carroll’s mentees, the weekends for the public. 

This man and his big brown eyes gaze directly into your soul as he responds, “And that means…?” 

You’re sweaty and tired, your feet ache with about five new blisters from the last time you checked, and you’re sure you need to get your hip checked out. Perhaps that’s why there’s this unreasonable surge of irritation that rises in the back of your head, irrational and half blinding. 

“That means—”

“Seungcheol! Get your ass in the locker room before I drag you in there myself.” The voice that rings out is heavy and has you flinching, the man’s order echoing from somewhere in the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. 

The man you assume is named Seungcheol begins to walk away from you without a word or gesture, and you can only blink at his retreating back. 

“Hey! Do you mind not touching my stuff next time round?” you call out as a last ditch attempt to have the last word. He turns his head to you, eyebrows raised and a smirk of mild disbelief growing on his face. Nothing is said as his head turns back to the front, strutting into the tunnel.

He lets you have your last word as he walks away, your gaze the same shade of crimson as his retreating form. 

“AND THEN—THESE—HUGE dudes with fucking botox or fillers in their shoulders storm out—”

Your vent is interrupted by Lorelai who’s burst out laughing mid bite of her sandwich, “What?”

“Botox!” she muffles a shriek through a full mouth.

“They were shoulder pads or something, you get it!” 

The air in the outside seating of this cafe is stellar, the perfect in between you wait for all year. The parasol above you is enough so you don’t have to squint your eyes in the late afternoon sun, the wind perfectly paced in a breeze. Your own sandwich remains untouched, the bread gone stale as you pick at the corner of the crust. 

“Apologies,” she yips. “So you're saying we’re being partially colonised by hockey players?”

“I don’t know! Was it a one time thing, a weekly thing? It can’t be a weekly thing, Monday afternoons are routine practice days.” 

“The routine you’ve been practising for the past year and a half?” 

“I can’t afford getting rusty.” 

Lorelai drops her head like she’s had enough, “Maybe these hockey jocks are a blessing.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Hey, do you want cake, they have cheesecake, I could get some!” 

“Lorry!”

“Okay,” she huffs, dropping back into her seat with blown cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

Lorelai has a sense of humour that took you more than enough time to decipher, but that wasn’t nearly the first thing you noticed about her. She was beautiful, even more so with the sun gracing her like a loving embrace. The highlights in her otherwise dark hair make the hazel of her eyes pop like two perfectly welcoming cliffs to jump off from. She was the definition of spunk and valour, yet graceful in everything she does. Even now, as she picks up her smoked turkey on honey oat, complete with every fixing and condiment on earth, you question how she can wrench her mouth open to take a reasonable bite; but she does, not a crumb out of place. 

“I have to share a rink with dudes whose hockey sticks are gonna make craters in the ice, why are you not mourning with me?”

“Pretty sure your toe picks do the same thing.”

“Lorelai!” 

“Not the government name!” she wails as though woefully wounded. 

“You’re impossible.”

“Carroll didn’t hate me for no reason.” She smiles in her pride. 

Lorelai’s competitive skating career came to an end sometime last year before the Grand Prix, a decision she announced gracefully with the words BITE ME etched with sharpie on her brand new competition skates. It was difficult to erase the mental image of the scarlet of Carrol’s face when Lorelai marched in with her hair chopped so short it’d be impossible to pull into a bun, marked skates in hand and a mask of determined rebellion on her face. Of course, the whole ordeal could’ve been an email, but it simply wouldn’t have been Lorelai. 

“It’s not like you were trying very hard to please her,” you grumble, nibbling on a fry. 

“Why would I try pleasing that woman?”

“For one thing, your sponsors were paying a bucketload so you could have her.”

“I didn’t want Carroll as a coach. Ever. I wanted Jameson. The only reason they put me with Carroll was because they were putting you and Marina with her.” Her voice is hard, eyebrows raised the slightest bit. 

“What does Jameson offer that Carroll doesn’t?!”

“Oh! I don’t know, let’s see,” she raises her voice as her sarcasm begins to simmer with a lethal edge. “Maybe the fact that an hour training with Jameson doesn’t feel like the subjected wrath of a world war two dictator!”

“Carroll is not that bad!”

“God, you become more like Marina everyday.”

You frown, “What does that mean?”

“It means—!” Lorelai pauses to close her eyes, and you can almost hear her counting in her head. “It means nothing. Eat your sandwich before the bread starts molding.”

“Ew.”

Lorelai smirks. “Bite me.”

You attempt to channel some of that Lorelai energy when you get to the rink past noon on a weekday. You hope you’re reasonable in your hope that Hansol will be in his office as you walk towards the door. 

Three rapt knocks before you hear a muffled voice telling you to come in. The door creaks when you open it. Loudly, might you add. 

“How long is it gonna sing every time I come in here?” you grimace. 

Hansol looks at you from behind his laptop with a tight smile. “For as long as I keep forgetting to oil the hinges.”

Hansol, for as young and qualified as he is, is only the rink manager because his family owns the place. Having graduated the year before with a shiny new law degree, he opted to take a break from moving forward with his career to “slow down” as he put it. The rink was as slow as it could get for him, betting the only important thing on his laptop screen currently was solitaire. 

“Did you also forget that I have the rink during the day on weekdays? 

“Ah. You’ve encountered the hockey team.”

“Yes. They turned off my music mid routine.”

“They're only here till the renovations in their home rink are done, we’re the only other rink in town that’s closed to the public on weekdays.” 

“But they’re cutting into my practice time?” you add, brows furrowed. 

Hansol opens his mouth before closing it again, eyebrows raised. “You clock in here five days a week, ten hours a day.”

“And?”

Hansol huffs out a breath. “Listen, I know you and the other skaters like having the rink to yourselves, and I’d be happy if it was always just you guys. Trust me, these jocks are impossible to clean up after, let alone deal with. Between the launch pad calibre noise and the stupid plastic barriers I have to put up on the railings, I’d love for it to just be you guys. But the only times you officially have the rinks booked is in the mornings when you’re training with coach Carrol, the rest of the week is technically up for grabs.”

“Let me book the rest of the slots then.”

“SVT’s already booked most of the remaining hours.” Hansol’s voice is sympathetic, but his words seemed final. You aren’t sure how bad your face was contorted, because suddenly he’s adding, “But hey, you can look at the leftover hours if they work for you.”

He pulls out the roster on a tablet before handing it to you. It only takes you a minute to scroll before you realise the only viable options were past 10 PM. The rink closed at 11. 

You sigh, shoulders visibly sagging as you let out a bated breath of tension. “It’s fine.” You hand the tablet back to Hansol. “I’ll figure it out.”

Turning on your heel, you make a move to leave the premises. Hansol calls out your name. 

“I’m sorry. Really.” 

You muster a smile, one that you cannot feel the slightest bit. “It’s alright.”

“Only a few months.”

Something in your smile sours, and you nod absentmindedly. “Only a few months.” 

THERE WERE OTHER WAYS the universe could have let it happen, someplace where you might have forgiven yourself. Someplace you had reason to be. 

You were accustomed to physical exertion, how could you not be when you were what you were, but hiking on an incline was never something you fancied yourself with. Gyms and coaches and paved running trails are nothing like rocky terrains and steep mountain paths with no guide but a mobile map. 

The semi finals had passed you by, handing you a gold medal along the way as you thrust yourself into bliss. It was a job well done, so much so that you allowed yourself a weekend of something other than skating rinks and training sessions. So many nights that you can hardly remember, yet flash like lightning under your eyelids. Where you sobbed into your pillow and cursed yourself for ever having the gall to take a step back, to be so arrogant and blustering to announce yourself away from the thing that should’ve mattered the most. 

It only took one tiny crater in the path to twist your ankle so hard you crumple to the ground with a scream you cannot remember. More hands than you have holding on to your searing ankle, like they were holding it together with nothing but their palms and fingers. Lorelai was talking, and talking and talking, but all you could hear was the roaring question in your mind. 

Why did you bring me here? 

Six weeks. 

You watched with your own eyes as the Grand Prix final shuttered away on a reel, like you were watching a movie from an age you could not visit. 

Six weeks. 

Marina sat beside your bed and said words you’d never forget. 

“I’m sorry, but…this is your own fault.”

Six weeks. 

Lorelai wept, and said the same words for an entirely different reason. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault, it was my idea.” 

Six weeks. 

Carroll kept face, but you could see past the mask. A sigh that said more than any words of reassurance. Disappointed but not surprised. 

Six weeks you were bedridden with an ankle that refused to support your weight on the surface area of your bare foot, let alone on the 3/16th of an inch on a blade. 

Bedrest, meds, physical therapy, and still. The ache in your ankle follows you like a ghost haunting you of your worst mistake. 

It was your fault. You chose to put whimsy above everything you laboured for, for years and years. You chose to look past your shortcomings like they would not become your achilles heel. You chose to get on that trail. You chose to walk out on crutches.

You, who could land a jump on a fraction of an inch of steel, could now barely stand on her own two feet. 

You’d decided on that day, that you were as pathetic as they come.

IT WAS THE MOST natural decision to drag Lorelai out of where she rotted in bed to come with you to the rink. 

“You want me to fight them?” She’s wearing her Winnie the Pooh fuzzy pyjama pants and a university hoodie on top, her short hair concealed in the hood she’s pulled up. “They are hockey players. We are twigs!” 

“Lorry. Have you ever thrown a punch in your life?” you ask her as you pull your hair back into a loose bind. 

“No?” 

“Then why on earth would I ask you to fight goblins triple our size?” 

Her mouth is gaping in disbelief. “Why am I here then?” 

“You,” you start, grabbing your skates and moving out of the locker rooms. “Are gonna sit pretty in that sound booth and make sure nobody touches my laptop.”

“…you realise Hansol has security cameras right?”

“Are you planning on robbing my laptop?”

“No. Although it does have nice specs.” 

You ignore her as you walk towards the benches. “That stupid hockey team needs to know I have reinforcements of my own.”

Lorelai stands there, brows furrowed and in clothes that drown her. She glances down at her outfit and then back up at you. She deadpans, “This is the most unthreatening I have ever looked.”

“Just—” You stand up too quickly and feel yourself wobble. The railing is hardly a foot away, your hand moving over to grab it. Except your palms feel nothing but the flat of something smooth and hard, fingers bumping into the feeling of something unfamiliar. 

You manage to find your balance with a yelp, immediately snapping up to see where you missed the railing. The railing was still there, perfectly within arms reach. There’s a glare in your vision, like looking through a screen. Higher and higher, you realise quickly that you’ve been looking through a clear barrier so high up you can hardly find where it ends in its erect standing. 

Lorelai speaks up first, her voice resonating loudly, “Isn’t that supposed to be on the other side of the railing. Stupid, stupid Hansol.” 

It looks like it stretches throughout the circumference of the rink, wrapping whoever’s inside in a giant plastic fish bowl. 

There’s a clench in your jaw you can’t control, something a little more than annoyance building in your senses. It should be an easy thing to ignore, especially regarding its practically invisible nature, but its presence is all you can think about, even as you step your right blade onto the ice. 

Skating towards the middle of the rink, you feel claustrophobic. 

“Woah! You look like a zoo animal,” Lorealai adds unnecessarily. 

“Just play the track,” you grumble. 

“There should be a don’t tap on the glass sign,” she says, voice muffled as yells from the benches. “You already look like a weasel, can’t have confused people in the stands.” 

“Lorry!” 

“What?” she yells, her voice muffled as she yells from the benches. 

You curse the plastic that cages you as you yell louder, “Play the track!” 

Lorelai nods and makes a noise of understanding, and you watch her as she disappears into the sound booth. 

Taking your starting position, you wait for the quiet lull of the track before the beginning of the unmistakable piano; the low tremor in the beginning existing to prepare you to jump into the routine. You stand there with your arms out like a swan, waiting for your cue that won't seem to arrive. 

You almost yell out at Lorelai again before you suddenly hear the resonating shrill of the piano notes, startling yourself out of your first push. It’s fine, you’ll recover. You’re distracted by your staggered start and it’s enough to have you miss your first jump. It’s fine. You’ll recover. 

By the time the four minutes are up, you’ve missed two of your five jumps, a spin gone wrong, and nearly crashed into the plastic barrier. Not to mention, the aches in your body are enough to seem impossible to geographically pinpoint. 

It’s pointed, the way you make a beeline for the benches, refusing to look at Lorelai. You can almost imagine her expression, the poker face she has when she’s trying to think of ways to structure her next words nicely. 

“What was that?” she deadpans, voice a little far away. Your body hurts enough to take your focus away from her. 

“I don’t know.” 

“I thought your ankle was fine now?” she asks. 

You grit your teeth. “It is.” Lies. The way it was hurting you right now was making sure to remind you of that. 

“You know, you did pick back up a lot earlier than we thought—”

“I said I’m fine, Lorry,” you snap. “Now can you please play the track again.” 

You finally look up, and she looks like she wants to say something. But you’re on the ice before she can. 

You adapt to the excess muffle of the plastic barriers, ears straining to hear the beginning of the piano before you jump into the choreography smoother than last time. This time round, it’s better. The pain in your ankle and the budding one in your hip is apparent, but it’s suddenly easier to drown it out. Focusing on the music, keeping your centre of gravity, pushing into your jumps and spins with enough vigour to hold to what you are. 

Another four minutes pass and it’s over. Immediately, you swing over to the soundbooth to find Lorelai, only to find her joined by an extra set of people.

Impossibly, your blood runs cold. 

There’s a sneaking suspicion you know who it is despite the two men having their backs turned to you, especially judging by the obnoxious red jackets they have on. SVT. You can hear Lorelai speak indecipherably, her voice stern. 

“And you are?” one of them asks. You don’t recognise him, but you do the other one. The one who turned your music off the first day him and his team stepped foot in here. 

“Lorelai!” she yells it for no reason. 

“Gilmore?” The one you recognise snorts. Seungcheol, that’s what they called him the last time you saw him in the sound booth. 

“I’m worse,” she states. 

“Lorry?” you interrupt, arms crossed and gaze directed at her. 

“Lorry?” The one you don’t recognise says. “Like a truck?” 

“You think you’re funny?” Lorelai takes a step towards him, a fair attempt to look threatening if it weren’t for her very unthreatening attire. 

“Oh look at her pyjamas! It’s Pooh bear, Cheol,” he exclaims. That seems to irritate him. 

“Can you replay the track, please, I have to smooth things over,” you intervene. In your mind, ignoring their presence in your space was the best solution, refusing to give them a way to merge into your lane. 

“Woah, we have the rink booked today,” Seungcheol stops you. “4:30.”

Snapping around to find the clock on the adjacent wall, you read the time. “4:17. You can wait.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And thirteen minutes makes what difference?”

“You said 4:30. It is not 4:30 yet.”

The other one thumps him on the back, all smiles. “We can wait, right, Cheol? Besides, we have to put our skates on.” 

His gaze is hard and doesn’t leave yours. “Fine.” 

You break away first to find Lorelai still in the same position, staring at the exchange. You ignore the two men that stand there and address her, “Play the track.”

Before the music begins, you glance back to the benches where the two men have seated themselves, apparently strapping in to watch you. You dig your nails into your palm to reign yourself back in. No point in getting upset. 

The piano begins, and you're determined to not mess up. Especially not right now. 

It goes well for all of 45 seconds, you're hitting the right beats, you feel like water. But then the first jump comes along and you see a flash of red from the stands. An irrational feeling hits you as you push into the first jump, it’s enough to make you stumble when you land. You manage to not fall, but it’s obvious you’ve messed up. 

Somewhere beyond the music you hear a distinct, “Solid 4!”

It distracts you again, and you miss a move. Somehow your second jump ends up worse, and you feel your bottom hit the hard ice. 

“8 point 5! Nice!”

It doesn’t take long for you to realise what they’re doing, anger crashing into you like a flash flood. Scoring your falls? You’re determined to make the next jump combination. You make it fine, but your quad Salchow turns into a triple. The oafs are too shallow to notice, so you hear no jeer. 

But you know that you messed up the only quad in your entire program. 

The last jump goes from a triple axel to a double, and you want to break something. 

The song ends, and you know you have another nine minutes left to yourself, but all you can think about is getting out of the vicinity as soon as possible. Away from all of the eyes that are trained on your hunched form. 

There’s nothing you know about Seungcheol, and yet, the thought of him even looking at you right now is unbearable. Twice you fell, countless times you failed. 

Lorelai says nothing while you pack up, and nothing as you leave the rink. 

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, CENTER,” LORELAI reads aloud from your bed with her mouth still full of salt ‘n vinegar chips. 

“Perfect, he already thinks he’s the center of the universe,” you grumble from your position on the floor of the bedroom. Your foam roller feels like heaven under your calves, but the position is beginning to cramp. 

“Surprised you haven’t heard of him, he’s half a celebrity.” 

You turn to her, “I have two gold medals and five podiums for every major skating event.”

“Do I ask for your autograph?”

“He’s not special.”

“Hm. His skill and popularity would beg to differ.”

“Why are you so hellbent on liking him?” 

“Because he’s cute,” she grins wide. “Although the other one was cuter, very angel-like. And he liked my Pooh Bear trousers. Can’t find his name on the team roster though.”

“He was wearing the same stupid jacket—”

You’re cut off by a gasp, a loud one at that. “He coaches the babies!” 

Her face is contorted into something between an “aw” and a sob. 

Lorelai’s phone is dropped dramatically on the bed as she thrashes on your made (now unmade) bed. You swipe the phone and read. His picture is there, the name Yoon Jeonghan, Junior League Coach.

“Good for him.”

“He just got five times hotter,” she states like she’s out of breath. 

“Give it another meeting and he’ll give you five other reasons to hate him.”

“God, you’re so negative,” she huffs. 

“They’re hogging my rink!”

“It is not your rink.”

“It’s as good as!”

“Whatever.” Lorelai rolls her eyes and sets back on the bed, no doubt searching the man up by name. 

“Ow!” you yelp as you stand up from the ground, ankle twisting slightly in the process. 

Lorelai jumps. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumble quickly, hoping she’d drop it. But she catches your lingering stare on your bad ankle. 

“It’s still hurting, isn’t it?”

“I just twisted it weird,” you defend, walking to pack up your foam rollers. 

You’re met with silence, but you know she’s thinking. Lorelai speaks, “Maybe you should skip out on the shelter today.”

You snort, “Why would I do that?”

Once, sometimes twice a week, you’d volunteer at the local pet shelter. It wasn’t hard work, mostly taking the bigger, more energetic dogs for their runs because it seemed you were the only one who could keep up with their stamina. And now Lorelai is trying to take that away from you. 

“I saw how you struggled at the rink today, there’s not a day you don’t rest. Like, actually rest.”

“That has nothing to do with me struggling!” you retort. 

“What is it then?” she asks, sitting up straighter, defiance in her gaze. “What is it that’s making you skate like you bought your first pair yesterday?”

The irritation is growing into something hotter, her defiance pushing you into a corner. 

“I know what you want to hear from me.” Your voice is shaky. “I’m not going to say it.”

“Because it’s not true? Or because you’ve been convinced it’s not?” 

You know what she’s talking about, and you know you’ve been avoiding the topic like it’s the plague. The ache in your ankle comes alive, and in that moment, you cannot tell if you’re imagining it or not. 

“Convinced by who?” you snap, shoving the box of foam rollers under your desk. 

“Does that have to come from me too?” 

“Lorry, I don’t know what you want from me!” 

“I—”

There’s a knock on your door, loud and demanding. Wrenching it open, you find Marina behind it. 

She has a frown on her face. “You’re still here? I thought you were running with the dogs today?”

“It’s none of your business if she goes or not, Marina.” Lorelai’s tongue drips with venom most commonly reserved for her most hated people. 

Marina, still in her workout clothes and duffel bag, furrows her eyebrows. “Who shoved a pole up your ass?” 

“I’m leaving in five,” you hiss, before making a motion to close the door. 

When you turn around, Lorelai is still on your bed, hands in fists like she’s holding herself back. There’s more behind her eyes than you could even consider unravelling. 

She leaves before you. 

THE ENTIRE WAY TO the rink was just one constant string of prayer. 

All of them go unanswered when you walk in to find the rink full of hockey players in red and black gear. 

The only thing you can do is curse under your breath, only watching frozen in your tracks as a million players skate across the rink passing and yelling at each other. No one you recognise, their helmets and gear eluding any semblance of individuality. 

Where you stand, a little ways away from the plastic screen and the benches, a dark circular puck suddenly slams directly into the boundary at eye level. On instinct, you flinch at the loud bang, half expecting to get hit. 

When you open your eyes, somebody’s skating up to the boundary, and you lock eyes through the cage of his helmet. 

Your blood is suddenly charged with something electric, fingers curling into fists on instinct. 

Suddenly, all that rings in your ears is the distinct jeers of numbers over the muffle of plastic as you continue to fall, and fall, and fall on the cold, unforgiving ice. The amusement in your failure, the joy in your defeat. 

Spinning on your heel, you stalk to Hansol’s office. 

In your blinding anger, you take a wrong turn, looking up to realise you’ve walked into the locker rooms. You’re one step into the men's locker room when you come back to your senses, startling yourself once again as you spin back from where you came, only you’ve been caught. 

For all the luck you’ve received in this life, it seems to opt out at that exact moment as you hear the unmistakable noise of a herd of ogres walking in, the glare of red on the walls surrounding them. Frozen in your spot, you can only grip the straps of your duffel bag harder, tense up like you were preparing for impact. When they turn the corner, the brilliant idea of simply walking towards the women’s locker rooms befalls you. But it’s too late. 

Seungcheol saunters into the hallway, leading the pack. 

His helmet is in his hands instead of on his head, revealing a sopping mop of hair drenched in what you can only imagine is sweat. He’s laughing at his teammate who’s making futile attempts to escape his own helmet, not noticing you in the way. 

Until he does. His smile fades immediately, eyebrows raised as he registers you in the doorway. You feel his gaze on you for a few silent moments, his teammates shushing at the shift in the air. Seungcheol opens his mouth, and you already know all that’s going to leave it is dung. “Didn’t realise the rink had a vacancy. Do I need to show you my ID to take a shower?”

A rustle of chortles and chuckles flitter from the group. “Go ahead. I don’t need an ID to tell you need a shower.”

Somebody ooh’s, despite it not being your best work. You suppose it was your delivery that did it. Deciding to continue riding that high, you simply turn towards the women’s locker rooms, refusing to give Seungcheol the luxury of your eyes on him.

Hurtling into the women’s locker room, you throw your duffel bag somewhere you’ll regret and crumple into one of the seats. You count to ten, attempting to take the image of Seungcheol out of your brain. 

It was difficult to rile you up to this extent, a trait you needed to possess if you were to be coached by Carroll in any capacity. There was so much you heard from her mouth, swallowing it like a prescribed pill and nothing more. Take what you were given, because it was given by the best, bought for you by the best.

Yet for some reason, Seungcheol manages to irk you in ways you previously have never encountered. Irritating people come and go, but you doubt you could place him as something as simple as just irritating. His presence felt like an intrusion, his air was thick like a concentrated gas. Everything he’s said to you so far has come from nothing but disdain and condescension, his haughty personality the only takeaway when he enters a room. 

You’re still in your outdoor shoes and jacket by the time twenty minutes are over, coming to a conclusion as you get up from the empty, soulless locker room. Hansol is in his office when you make the formality knock before barging in. His head is on the desk, like he’s asleep. It takes him a second, by he lifts his forehead from the papers on the tabletop to regard you at the door. You hear him sigh. 

“The hockey team’s done. It’s two.”

“I wanna book a slot.”

“The rink’s empty you don’t—”

“Let me book the slot, Hansol.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re turning out worse than those baboons,” he curses before setting his forehead back onto the table. “Write it on the sticky note, I’ll put it in the schedule.”

“Now. I wanna book a slot for right now,” you grit. 

Hansol whips his head up again, eyes wide like he’s holding himself back, nodding furiously as he pulls his keyboard towards himself with an unnecessarily aggressive tug. “Fine. 2:16 till closing. Enter. Print. Here.”

He hands you the printed receipt of your slot, ripping it from the printer tray as he does it. You take it from him in the same vigour, hardly a thank you as you spin on your heels and walk out the door. You stop for a minute, turning back around to yell into the office. 

“Go home if you’re just gonna nap on your desk!” 

Not waiting for a response, you stalk towards the locker rooms. Within minutes you’ve tugged on your skates, laptop and shoes in each hand as you emerge out the tunnel to the rink. 

The ice is empty, mostly. Placing your laptop in the sound booth and your shoes under the benches, you step foot on the ice. They’re there, on the other end, sitting on the cold ice with their jerseys still on, eating what looks like cups of dippin dots. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan, you remember from Lorelai’s squealing, either don’t notice you on the ice, or simply choose not to. Because it’s easy as you skate up to them, gaining speed from across the rink, you slide to a stop, sending a perfect spray of ice from your skates, directly into their ice cream cups. 

Seungcheol’s full spoon hangs mid air, halfway to his mouth, now garnished with ice shavings. 

“Thought you’d have the respect to keep the dippin dots out of this,” Jeonghan comments, disbelief in his eyes as he looks up at you. 

“Ice is booked.” 

“What time?” Seungcheol asks. Your gaze flickers to the left side of his face, a nasty bruise blooming purple and blue that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“2:16. It’s nearly fifteen minutes past.”

“You’re only one person.” He’s significantly more annoyed than when you saw him outside the locker rooms just minutes ago. 

“And?”

“And…you have about 97% of the rink to yourself.”

You raise your brows, hands on your hips. “But I booked 100% of it. So I’m gonna need that plane of ice you’re currently sitting on.” 

“What if I don’t move?” Seungcheol presses. It’s menacing, the way he looks at you, like he’s a lion only waiting to be provoked. Maybe he’s already halfway there, because it sure looks like it. 

“We’ll find out another day,” Jeonghan sings before you can snap back, grabbing onto the collar of Seungcheol’s red and white jersey to yank him up. He continues to glare as he obliges with his friend’s tugs, nearly as angry as you are. “Let’s go, sport.”

You watch as they walk to the exit of the ice, realising they’re wearing their shoes instead of their skates. 

Jeonghan calls from the benches, right before he and Seungcheol move out of view. “Trash those for us, would you?” 

Their half eaten dippin dots cups, with the ice now melting on them remains on the floor of the rink. Once again, the unexplainable urge to kick something befalls you, hearing them laugh and talk from far away as they exit the rink behind their long gone teammates. 

You give in, swinging a leg over to kick the cups and spoons, dippin dots and plastic scattering across the ice. It’s another sprawl of mess you’ll have to clean up, but it feels good to ruin something of his, no matter how inconsequential. The empty rink encourages you, needing to scream so loud the plastic barriers crack and break. You know it’s impossible, but that doesn’t stop the urge. 

You channel it into the most aggressive warmups on ice you’ve ever done. Your spins are faster, your jumps higher. But this also means you crash heavier, fall harder. It’s then, sitting on the bench to take a break, breathing so heavy you can hardly sip your water, you find an unmistakable headline on your browser home page. 

Everything stops. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

Choi Seungcheol’s seat for next season at risk? Insider reports that the hot headed center may be at risk of contract termination due to recent controversy. The hockey player, renowned for his aggressive playing tendencies, seems to be taking his temperament outside of the rink. Multiple games played by SVT have been subject to eventful halves and quarters, the center seen getting violent in the benches with opposing team members, and sometimes even team members of his own! While his short temper has always been a recurring subject in the news, his skills as a player have always remained top notch—we do wonder if he even has to try! The tables seem to turn a little differently this time around, because it looks that SVT higher ups have been fed up with the increasing reports of Choi’s aggressive behaviour. Insider sources report that talks of a contract termination may be coming into order. While he has proven to be an effective player on the ice, it seems as though it won’t be saving him from this particular ramification! 

Stay tuned, hockey fanatics, as we bring you more updates on Choi’s sticky situation! 

BEFORE EVERYTHING, BEFORE YOUR ankle, before it began to feel like your world was crumbling at your feet, came the scar on your leg. 

In hindsight, it feels like it was the very thing that set the ball rolling, the beginning of your demise. 

Coach Carroll was only on her first handful of sessions with you, Lorelai and Marina, all of you still learning her quirks and expectations as a coach. 

It happened when you were on the sidelines, hanging over the boundary as Lorelai handed you a water bottle from the benches. Marina was practicing her routine, taking up most of the ice as Coach followed on the side. It seemed unclear, to this day, whether you’d drifted inwards on the ice as you sipped from the bottle, unaware. But when you felt the hot searing pain in your calf, there were only two people on the scene. 

Marina skated past, her free leg in the air, meeting your calf as she skated past, effectively slicing into your leg in a deep gash. Blood was wiped off the ice, your leg bandaged and wrapped. Not without Coach and her comments, of course. 

You heard her berate Marina from the other room, for moving closer to the boundary than what was required for her routine, heard the way she gave her the blame. And then she round up on you. 

“Idiot! No reason to be on the ice when you aren’t practicing, did you want it to be your ankles too?!” 

It was the first time you realised that Carroll was beyond your perception of the word demanding, her gaze remained in a high place, no regard for what it took to get there. Even if it meant destroying her skaters. 

Marina apologised. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t see you there, I would’ve dropped my leg—”

“It’s okay, Marina. Really,” you smiled through the still aching wound. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

She smiled a little too, “Lesson learned, I guess. Don’t loiter on the ice.” 

It was difficult to keep the smile from fading as you heard her say that.

“What shit apology is that?!” Lorelai yelled as soon as you mentioned it to her later. You cringe as you realise what slipped, and to whom it slipped to. 

“It’s the best I’m gonna get from her, Lorry. Honestly, I don’t care.”

“You’re out of service for a week till that slice heals and that’s all she has to give you?” 

Lorelai is breathing heavily, mostly because she’s been practicing her triple axels for her routine, but also because she’s extensively heated for you. You watch her from the benches. 

“Lorry,” you sigh. 

“Listen, I wanna win too but—”

“Are you trying to say she did it on purpose?” you ask. 

“No! Let me finish, woman,” she snaps. “I wanna win, you wanna win. We’re doing everything we can because we want to win—”

“So this was a subconscious attack?” you interject. 

“Fuck this, I’m leaving,” Lorelai begins to skate backwards and away, leaving you on the bench. 

“NO! Wait, okay, I’m sorry I won’t interrupt.”

“Too late.”

“Lorry! Lorelai!”

It wasn’t until you were back in your shared apartment, Marina out doing whatever while Lorelai hijacked your bed that she got to finish her sentence. She was rubbing ointment on a bruise while you changed the  bandage on your calf. 

“Her need to win is ruining her. And it’s like she’s taking us down with her. I know she doesn’t mean it like that, doesn’t want to hurt us. But she thinks this kind of hurt is good, if it’s the kind of hurt that pushes you to win.”

You cringed at the sight of the wound, still red and ugly. 

“She might not have meant to hurt your leg, but—don’t loiter on the ice? Really?”

“She only meant it as a reminder.”

“Exactly! You don’t need that reminder because I think you’ve learned better than anyone else to not stay on the rink when someone is practising. A couple weeks ago she made some stupid comment because I left the gym early. Nothing inherently rude, she’s never actually rude. But it was pointed anyway. I’ve been up since six in the morning I think I deserve slacking off a little, it was nearly midnight for fuck’s sake!” 

Cleaning the wound was taking everything you had, the need to hiss at the contact of the wet cloth was near abominable. 

“Her…her perception’s a little warped. But her heart’s in the right place!”

Lorelai had rolled her eyes, screwing the cap of her ointment tube back on with unnecessary force. “I never said it wasn’t, just—stop defending her! I’m sorry but half the reason she continues to act like this is because you listen to her.”

At that moment, you felt a little offended. Of course, Marina had her moments where she’d say something a little less than healthy, especially coming from a friend. But you’d always thought you handled it better than most. 

You met Marina when you were still only splotchy faced preteens, during a competition where she came second and you came third. She’d been skating for longer, so it was expected, but you also couldn’t conceal your surprise when you’d found the state of her later on. You were ecstatic simply because you managed to make it to the podium, but it seemed Marina’s tears held another thought process for her. 

You found her crying in the locker rooms later on, her coach who looked like she…should’ve been comforting her, but it was more like a stern talking to, to suck it up and work harder next time round. 

When you tried to help her, out came words you felt oh so strange coming from a stranger. “What do you know? You came third!”

It hurt. Possibly the first genuine stab of the feeling you’d ever felt. In the following weeks, when Marina apologised and you’d begun to build a friendship, you felt something peculiar. Practice sessions on the ice became harder, your two hour sessions were suddenly extending to four, sometimes five hours a day. All of it, your own doing. 

It was subconscious when it was happening, the silent tug of You came third! What you first considered an achievement became an intermediate step. 

If there was anywhere that you’d pinpoint the shift, from when figure skating went from fun to a responsibility, you’d pick that exact moment. When someone congratulated you later on, it wasn’t a big smile and a thank you.

“I only came third.”

Your calf healed and all that was left was a scar, but there in the discolouration of your skin, also lay a realisation. 

SEUNGCHEOL HOSTS ABSOLUTELY ZERO thoughts in his mind as he shoves the collar of his hoodie over his head. Slamming the door shut on the rest of his red SVT paraphernalia, he makes quick work of his hair, shoes on and out the door within the minute. Jeonghan is still fast asleep when he leaves, mouth open and drooling onto his pillow when Seungcheol walks into his room to let him know he’s leaving. 

Jeonghan might tag along to practice for the fun of it despite leaving his competitive hockey career behind him, but his distaste for 6 AM practice remains forever unchanged. He’d see him later though, on the rink lingering once the sun is higher in the sky and Jeonghan deems it less of a sin to be awake. 

Seungcheol leaves without a response from his friend. 

By the time he gets to the rink, most of the team has already geared up. The locker room is splotched with red, moving towards the back of the room to get to his own locker. They weren’t assigned, but he liked to have his claim. He had one in the old rink, the one locker everyone knew was his. And now he has one here, despite the temporary nature of the ordeal. The rest of the boys know to steer clear, as does he for the others who have their lucky spots. 

Mingyu bumps into his shoulder when Seungcheol is looking down, immediately whipping around to bow a full ninety degrees. He’s laughing as he apologises, not really sorry, but Seungcheol is too exhausted to humour him too much. 

He’d been up playing games all night, under the covers in the dark, his phone brightness up too high and his eyes too wide open. He could feel the regret when his alarm blared while it was still dark outside, his eyelids stuck together, refusing to open. It cost him fifteen minutes of warming up, but he’d make it somehow. 

Seungcheol can hear coach Mason’s booming voice from outside, moving closer and closer to hustle the rest of the boys out onto the rink. He shoves his foot into his skates, making sure all that’s left is to lace them up. 

“Look alive, boys! I want you on the ice within the minute,” he booms into the locker room. 

Seungcheol doesn’t look up. When he gets up to leave the locker rooms, his hockey stick and helmet in hand, he’s the last straggling few to leave. Chan earns himself a hard thump on the back from Coach as he scurries out. 

There’s a hand on Seungcheol’s chest as he’s about to exit, Coach stopping him from leaving. 

He looks up, expecting a hard look from Mason, ready to hear a mildly violent threat about being late to call time again. Except Seungcheol finds him with his own gaze on the floor. 

“Rink manager said I could use his office. We should talk there.”

Seungcheol could’ve said he knows what this was going to be about. The game last weekend had less than ideal results, not because they didn’t win, but more so because of the WWE level brawl that went down in the benches during one of the intermissions. 

He tenses, but it was more like he was squaring up. His shoulders are hard, his grip on his hockey stick tighter. Of course, he wasn’t about to swing at his coach, but one could say it was simply a subconscious response. 

The entire walk to the office, Seungcheol thinks of new ways Coach could address his issue. But the gist was always simple. 

Choi, stop fucking fighting. 

He’d usually just rip Seungcheol a new one in front of the boys, berate him and verbally throttle him in the hopes that he’d keep his anger under check. But as they turn towards the door to the office, Seungcheol has to remind himself that this was a first. Being led aside, like he was being led into some formal meeting. 

A plea deal, perhaps?

Choi, what is it going to take?

The office is barren, hardly looks like it’s used with how sparse the equipment is. The amount of dark brown gives it enough warmth to not make it look like some sick form of solitary confinement. That doesn't stop Seungcheol from feeling a hint of pity for whoever has to work here. There’s no nameplate. 

Coach doesn’t take a seat, opting to lean against the table in front of him instead. His arms are folded, and he’s not looking him in the eye. A crawl of suspicion creeps up Seungcheol’s neck, as though in an attempt to ambush him. 

It’s silent in the room as he waits for Coach to speak, refusing to be the one to break it. 

When he does speak, it’s not in his usual Coach voice. Without the built in bass and tremors he was born with. 

“There’s no easy way to break this,” he starts, eyes drifting up to somewhere on the barren walls. “But I’m gonna try my darndest.”

Finally, he feels Coach’s gaze lock with Seungcheol’s expecting pair. 

“They wanna drop you.”

“What?”

Coach squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s recalibrating. “Your contract is up by the end of the season. And the tie wearers and the shoe shiners don't wanna re-sign you.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean don’t wanna re-sign me, on what grounds?!”

“You’re temperament—”

“I’ve scored at least two goals for every game you’ve put me in, I’m your most consistent player!”

“They have no qualms with you when you’re on the ice.”

Seungcheol knows where this is going. He knows what knocked up alley this is turning to and he hates it. “Which is all that should matter.”

“In most cases.”

“Is this about last weekend? You didn’t hear him, he deserved more than a broken fucking nose—”

“I didn’t need to hear him, because I know. I know he’s a jackass, I know they’re all jackasses! They know that too. You need to learn to let things go, let them chirp—”

“He was coming on to my mother!” Seungcheol bellows, now properly angry. He remembers the guy’s name, Jason or something. 

“His coach came onto my entire bloodline when we were young, this is Kim’s strategy! You’re playing right into their hands like a dog! For fuck’s sake, Choi! Punching someone in the chiclets isn’t always the answer!” Coach Mason is shaking his hands in front of him like some violent prayer. 

Seungcheol drops his hockey stick and helmet, mouth open as he huffs and puffs. He wants to pace, wants to point his fingers at Coach and make a few threats of his own. 

“Just—”

Seungcheol rounds up on him. “Seungkwan punched a guy in the mouth. Wonwoo kicked one in the balls.”

“Seungcheol. This is becoming nearly. Every. Single. Game. Not the occasional tousle we can pull people out of. You can’t keep sending people to the hospital, it’s a wonder nobody's pressed charges yet!”

“So that’s it? I’m being punished because some dick runs his mouth?” 

“This is about you, Seungcheol. You need to get a fucking grip. You’ve started picking at your own teammates, shoving Mingyu around—seriously?”

Seungcheol’s mouth opens but nothing leaves it. He ends up gaping like a fish. 

For all that it was worth, for everything he’d been through, Seungcheol always assumed his seat was safe. Always assumed he’d have the position he does. Because he showed results, won them nearly every game and put up a damn good fight in the ones they didn’t. 

Seungcheol knew he was an asset, but not for one minute, stop to realise that this was all

conditional. 

For everything he did for this team, for every fiber of his being he poured into its chalice, they were spitting it all right back into his face. Chewed and warped and rid of anything worth salvaging. 

The red in his chest, back, stomach, spelling out the unmistakable letters of his team. The red in his helmet that rests beside the red in his hockey stick. 

“Listen, as much of a pain in the ass you are, you’re good fucking player. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters. But it’s not up to me, so we need to work around that. They’re worried about the repercussions of your behaviour. And you are gonna make sure you keep yourself in check.” 

Coach walks closer, finger digging into Seungcheol’s chest through his jersey. “I want no more fights, no more kicking and punching and swearing no matter how much that motherfucker deserves it, I don’t care. Do whatever it takes. God knows I’ll never forgive you if you make me agree to those prissy hands in suits.”

Coach left Seungcheol in the barren office, stepping over his stick and helmet as he exited the room, leaving him alone. His fingers flex under his gloves, like he’s trying to remind himself to stay in the moment. His exhales are stronger than his inhales, his vision blurring as the desk turns into two, and then disappears for a second. 

He can hear the distinct sound of the puck slamming into hockey sticks. Practice had started. By the time Seungcheol walks out, he’s the last person to go through the mandatory drills. 

The rink is mostly empty as the team gears up for a practice match, leaving Seungcheol enough reign to slam into every puck like he had some personal vendetta against every last one. It’s one after the other, sent directly into the open net, waiting. 

Practice goes fine, as good as it could go with the scrambled eggs that had become of Seungcheol’s mental state. He found himself whipping his head around to Jun when he fumbled an assist, face scrunched under his helmet as he prepared to send him to hell in a handbasket. 

He sees Jun physically tense up in defense, and the insult (for once) dies on Seungcheol’s tongue. 

“Just—keep up, alright,” he says instead. His tone is empty, and on a downward slope. 

If anyone finds it odd, they don’t say. 

It’s a couple more hours of passes, assists and hollers across the ice, regrouping the teams every so often to keep the rotation consistent. 

Over here, everyone is in red, everyone is on his side. The bleachers are empty, devoid of spectators to watch him lose his cool on anything. But he thinks of the way Jun recoiled, like he was preparing for the worst of his teammate’s words. He and Jun are friends. 

Somewhere amidst his thoughts, the puck flies directly into Seungcheol’s face, banging into the cage of his helmet with a noise that resonates across the rink. He’s startled enough to skate back a little, not before hearing another resounding thwack! from next to him. The puck rebounded from his helmet and hit the plastic barrier with a noise that had everyone looking over. 

Skating up to where the puck fell back onto the ice, he looks up to where it hit the barrier. 

Through the plastic he sees…you. You're staring at the same spot he is, where there’s a slight mark from the force of the rubber. 

And then your eyes drift up, locking with his own. 

Like every other person he’s around, he watches you tense up. But it’s laced with something more than just bracing for impact. 

It’s apprehension, your form turbulent and agitated. It’s all he can see when you spin on your heels and walk away in the opposite direction from him. 

The all too familiar irritation sparks in the back of Seungcheol’s mind, as it does when you’re around. All he does is slam his stick into the ice with force, pushing the puck back into the middle of the rink. 

They’re nearly done by that point, and he finds that Jeonghan has graced himself in the benches. He’s wearing his old jersey, likely because he doesn’t want Coach to notice him and accuse him of distracting his players. 

Jeonghan would’ve gotten away with it anyway. 

Seungcheol tells him to wait up, walking towards the locker room with the rest of the rest of the team to wash up. He finds some reprieve in Seungkwan’s attempts at fumbling with his helmet, letting out a laugh as he fights with it. Looking up as they take the turn towards the locker rooms as a group, he somehow finds himself in your presence, again. 

It’s the same thing, like you’ve been connected to a faulty circuit and you’re trying not to show it. You look like you want to say something but all Seungcheol can do is send a snarky remark of his own. 

Even as you walk away after the ordeal, he feels anything but settled. 

It’s like the world has it out for him, because as he opts to stalk back to where Jeonghan was, forgoing a shower, there’s only another calamity waiting for him. 

Jeonghan is in the rink, sitting on the ice with two cups of what looks like dippin dots. He looks up when he hears his treads on the ice, having taken his skates off already. Seungcheol crumples to the ground and on the ice next to his friend. 

The first words he utters are the only ones that’ve been on his mind all day. “They want to drop me.”

Jeonghan only grimaces in response, only running his hands through his hair as he sighs loudly. “I know. I heard.”

Seungcheol perks up, head lifting from the ice. “...How?”

That’s how Seungcheol has Jeonghan’s phone so close to his face he’s hardly an inch away from the screen. He reads and reads and reads. And his blood boils and boils and boils. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

Choi Seungcheol’s seat for next season at risk? Insider reports that the hot headed centre may be at risk of contract termination due to recent controversy. The hockey player, renowned for his aggressive playing tendencies, seems to be taking his temperament outside of the rink. Multiple games played by SVT have been subject to eventful halves and quarters, the center seen getting violent in the benches with opposing team members, and sometimes even team members of his own! While his short temper has always been a recurring subject in the news, his skills as a player have always remained top notch—we do wonder if he even has to try! The tables seem to turn a little differently this time around though, because it looks that SVT higher ups have been fed up with the increasing reports of Choi’s aggressive behaviour. Insider sources report that talks of a contract termination may be coming into order. While he has proven to be an effective player on the ice, it seems as though it won’t be saving him from this particular ramification! 

Stay tuned, hockey fanatics, as we bring you more updates on Choi’s sticky situation! 

Of course, to add to the absolute media pandemonium, you had shown up on the rink itself after Seungcheol had to read through the entirety of that stupid article. Jeonghan was smart to pull him away from the situation before he wrapped both his hands around your neck in an ultimatum. 

The way you stood there, hip popped like you owned the damn place, face haughty and demanding. You stood while they sat, looking down at Seungcheol like he was some pesky ant. There was nothing he would’ve rather done in that moment than swing his leg clean across your ankles, and watch in delight as you crash onto the ice in front of him. 

“What the fuck is her problem?” he grits as soon as he’s in the locker rooms. Collecting his things to leave and take a shower at home. 

Jeonghan walks behind him, hands in his pocket in idleness as he watches his friend pack up. He’s humming a tune that’s possibly too familiar to Seungcheol. “Hm. She does seem a little wound too tight.”

“Wound too tight?! I’ve seen her thrice just today and every single time she looks like she wants to skin my fucking hide!”

Jeonghan only snorts. “Thing two isn’t any better. She’s cute though.”

Seungcheol whips around. “Who gets that territorial over a sound booth?!”

“Down, boy,” Jeonghan soothes, half in jest. “Surprised she isn’t here today either.”

“Yeah, you’d like to see her.”

“I would, actually, yes. What was her name?”

“Something to do with a train or a bus or something—”

“Lorry! Right,” Jeonghan furrows his brows. “I don’t think that’s her real name.”

Seungcheol throws his duffle bag over his shoulder as he motions he’s done. “I don’t think anyone who actually loves their child would name them after a bus.”

Jeonghan halts in his steps. “My dead dog’s name was Lorry.”

Seungcheol is extra nice for the rest of the way home. 

SEUNGCHEOL CAN'T SLEEP.

His dreams are full of voices, of every single teammate he’s ever had. The junior league, his high school team, up to his college team, and finally, his team right now. 

They’re all murmuring like they were paid to do it, uttering the same things, over and over. He doesn’t belong here, they don’t want him here, he doesn’t deserve what he has. 

And with the way his heart is racing when he jolts awake, cold sweat and all, he realises he’s kicked his blanket off of him sometime during the night. He looks over to his alarm clock that glares bright in the dark of his room; 5:08 AM.

He doesn’t need to be up, but it seems his own subconscious has given him a good enough scare to make sure every last essence of sleep escapes him. He lays on his back, catching his breath like he just ran a marathon. 

Seungcheol hasn’t woken up from a nightmare like this since middle school, one that knocks the breath from his lungs and fills his head with all the horrible things in the world. With every moment that passes after that conversation with Coach Mason, his ordeal becomes increasingly real. 

In that moment, laying in his bedroom, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above, he wonders if he’s made the right choice to come this far. 

With all the confidence he’s exuded, the thought is downright terrifying. 

Seungcheol was a difficult child. Too much energy, too much to say, too much to do. His parents didn’t know the first thing about hockey, just that it involved enough hitting and running and practice to let their son let out all that pent up energy, so maybe, just maybe, he’d sit still and do his homework. While they attempted to sign him up at the local rink, he was already zooming out towards the benches to see the fabled giant block of ice his parents told him about. 

And there it was, just like in the movies, a giant expanse of ice that made him shiver even in his thick Winnie The Pooh puffer vest. There’s sounds, loud ones, of deep clacks that echo across the rink. It seems to be coming from the dozens of people skating on the rink, decked out in red gear. 

SVT, he reads on their jerseys. 

His mother chides him for straying when they finally find him near the gate, watching the team practice. The rink manager is there as well, showing his parents around. 

“The SVT’s practice here and have a junior league too, but I’m afraid it’s full. But our coach is great too, I’m sure he’ll do well.”

Seungcheol’s parents didn’t mind, but he wanted those jerseys, wanted his name in red splashed across his back as he glided across the ice. 

It didn’t take long for his coach and his parents to realise that putting him in a helmet was a good idea. He was smoking the rest of the kids from day one, his balance on the ice better than any other his age, his hold on a hockey stick like second nature, his aim as he hit his first puck, dazzling. 

As he got older, entering his preteen and teen years, he had another realisation. That he was as horrible at school as he was good at hockey. 

“Perhaps you should take a break from hockey,” his high school guidance counsellor had said. His grades were displayed in front of her like a case study, the hopeless clear in her intermittent sighs and the occasional purse of her lips. “Utilise that time to fix at least one of your grades. Pour all your eggs in one basket.”

The thought was absurd. No, he would not be dropping hockey when it was the only thing that pushed him to wake up in the morning. 

He’d felt the tremble of irritation rise in himself, sitting there in that office. It angered him, made him feel like his success was measured by a criteria not made for him. He had said nothing as he slipped out of chair and left the room. 

The day before his graduation, sweat dripping onto the ice as he sent free pucks into the net, he was missing more than he was getting in. It was making him more mad than it should, hands shaking with fury as he berated himself for not being able to succeed in something so simple.

His last puck was before him, and he swung his stick harder than ever and watched as it flew directly into the net. The sound is louder than usual, resonating across the rink. Seungcheol looked down at the detached pieces in his hand and quickly realised that he’d effectively broken his hockey stick.

It wasn’t expensive, so the quality wasn’t nearly what it should be, wasn’t nearly as durable. But this was new to him. He’d never broken a stick before. 

Anger. Perhaps that was what he'd forgone, perhaps that was what he needed. To get on his knees from his back, to get on his feet from his knees. 

When he graduated the next day, Seungcheol knew what he was going to do with his life. Finally had an answer for the infinite questions about his future. 

Hockey. Seungcheol was going to play hockey for the rest of his life. He was going to get into SVT, he was going to become the best player they’ve ever had. He was going to make more money than what he would have as a doctor or a lawyer or whatever else the entire world wanted him to do instead. 

Seungcheol was going to be on the ice wearing red if it’s the last thing he does. 

That’s what pushes him out of bed at 8:45 in the morning, his dream that was once in his hands now flitting through the gaps of his fingers. 

The anger that pushed him here, was now pushing him out. 

He packs his things and leaves the house, welcoming the cold of the outdoors. 

There’s the distinct sound of blade cutting through ice when he gets nearer to the rink itself, a shout of a shrill voice he can’t decipher. Official practice doesn’t start for another couple hours, and he doesn’t remember Coach Mason cutting the pitch in his voice for anything ever. There’s only one other person that could possibly be gracing the rink.

Seungcheol finds three people on the rink. The bright red curly mop of hair catches his eye first, her arms folded over her green puffer jacket, apprehension in her entire posture. He assumes this is your coach. 

There’s a blonde one breathing heavily as she straightens out of a spin, listening to the coach as she shakes her head violently as she speaks. 

Seungcheol finds you a little ways away from the pair, practising jumps. 

He doesn’t emerge into the benches, remaining in the shadows where he wouldn’t be so blaringly obvious. There’s no reason for him to hide, but he doesn’t think of this as hiding. 

Seungcheol watches for the next few minutes, watches you make most of your jumps, fall for some. Your coach shouts for particular names for jumps, something about axels and lutz’ that he can’t tell the difference from when put into action. At least he thinks that’s what you’re doing. 

And then he hears it as your coach moves closer to the barriers. “What’s gotten into you? Keep acting this stupid and I’ll excuse myself from the job, I have better people to coach.”

Her tone, her words, the sharp edge of her tongue, it’s all triggering a very specific part of Seunghceol’s brain. 

“Is it your ankle? Because if it is, then I’m here to tell you to get out of your own head. Your ankle is fine, you wouldn’t be able to get on the ice at all if it wasn’t.” 

There it comes. Those words aren’t directed towards Seungcheol, nor could they apply to him in any capacity. But the way this coach is speaking is making him irrationally angry. 

“Are you gonna keep pretending you have a handicap? Because if you are then I have no work here.”

“I’m sorry.” 

For whatever reason, the sound of you apologising makes the fire rage doubly. It’s enough to blur his vision, enough to make him question what on earth this coach could have on you to let her speak to you in that way. 

The choice words are already in his head as he claps back in his own head, like he was the one at the receiving end. 

He doesn’t stay, disappearing even further into the tunnel to where the locker rooms are. He doesn’t understand why he’s huffing and puffing as much as he is. All that occupies him is what possible reasons you could have to just take it lying down. 

Seungcheol’s phone vibrates in his pocket, slipping it out to realise it’s Jeonghan. 

He picks up, and barely has time to say hello before his voice perks up from the other line. “Where are you?” He sounds like he just woke up. 

“I’m at the rink.”

“Why is your angry voice on?”

“My angry voice is not—” he begins to grit, seething, but closes his eyes and takes a moment. “I’m not mad.”

“Do I need to sing?”

“No, you do not have to sing—”

“Everything is honey—”

“Jeonghan, stop!”

“—everywhere I see—”

Seungcheol hangs up before he can go on. To his utmost irritation, he feels significantly calmer. 

The rink is devoid of your red headed coach when Seungcheol makes his way there after a few minutes. The blonde one is nowhere to be seen, leaving you alone in the rink as you skated across the expanse. He only watches as you land the couple attempts at jumps, the ice breaking ground in a spray every time you put pressure on your blades. 

Seungcheol is just standing there, blank faced with an empty head. His mind was quiet for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing there, standing idle as he follows your figure around the rink like a fixation point. 

The sound is more consistent, less of the loud jabs of hockey sticks meeting the ice, more constant lines of scraping as you migrate across the rink. The speakers boom no sound, but the musicality in the noise of the ice is enough to imagine a rhythm. 

No part of him desires getting on the ice to oust you out, no part of him wants to touch his hockey stick that sits in the locker room. He doesn’t need extra practice, not with hockey at least. 

And when you notice him, unmoving in the benches, he watches as something hard overcomes your expression. You skate over, and he keeps his gaze fixated on the ice.

Skating up to the gate, he sees in his peripheral vision as you slip on your skate guards, stepping out into the real world. 

“You don’t have the rink booked, I checked,” you huff, moving to find your things on the other set of benches. 

Seungcheol’s jaw tenses. “I don’t want the rink right now.”

“And yet the ghost loiters.”

“I’m here to tell you to start filling in the stupid craters your skates make in the ice. The guys keep tripping.” 

“You big hockey thugs getting defeated by a toe pick?” 

Seungcheol turns to finally look at you, and you look nothing as graceful as you did on the ice. He wants to scoff. 

You continue, “I have to deal with your stupid barriers fucking up my sound system. I think your guys can deal with a couple digs in the ice.” 

“Great, we’ll just lose a couple teeth, who really gives a fuck.” 

“If this is about giving fucks,” you get up from your water break, leaving the bench. “Do me a favour and forget your mouth guard next time. Let the puck punch you in the mouth if I can't."

Seungcheol’s entire being is ablaze. He reshuffles his footing. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” you repeat, voice moving a pitch higher. “My fucking problem is that you and your overgrown posse of baboons drop in here out of the blue and then act like you own the damn place!”

“Right, because it’s your name on the fucking lease. Excuse us for trespassing on public property!”

You’re yelling. Seungcheol is yelling. It’s either that or the hollow of the rink is now carrying your voices farther out. 

“I’ve had enough of you acting like you don’t take up this entire fucking space!” Your arms wave wildly, gesturing to the large area of the rink. “You’re everywhere, all the fucking time, it’s sickening!”

“Everywhere, huh?” He takes a step closer to you. And then another. He revels in the sight of your face turning a splotchy red. “Thought I was only a bother on the ice? Where else have I been plaguing you in mystic hallucinations?”

Seungcheol’s eyes give away nothing but provocation. He knows he didn’t start this, but in the true essence of who he is, he would be the one to end it. 

It’s clear you’re taken aback. At this moment, he’s the closest he’s ever been to you. But it’s for nothing if it isn’t to press on you further, to tower over you and your outburst. 

“Get your head out of the gutter, you brute.”

“Then is it not me taking up all your space?” he asks. “Because there’s three feet of air between us, and yet the least in our very short time together.”

He watches as you take a small step back.

“So where else have I been any closer, so consistently, if it wasn’t part of your imagination?”

There’s a certain kind of venom in your stare, in the sneer that lifts your mouth, enough to ensure that it’d render him six feet deep. But he lives in reality, so he deems it safe to take another step closer. 

“You’re a screw up,” you almost whisper. Appalled and scandalised. 

“So I’ve been told,” Seungcheol breathed. “But something tells me we’re not so different in that department.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that I’m all you can think about,” he says, eyebrows raised. “That feels like a lot. You’d agree, because everywhere, all the fucking time is a lot.” 

Seungcheol has hardly finished his sentence before he feels the light breeze of you gathering your few things, shouldering him hard and walking away from him. Into the tunnel, into the locker rooms, into hell, wherever it was that you ended up by the close of the day. 

He isn’t afraid to admit that he stumbled.

LORELAI HAD MADE IT quite clear that any figure skating talk was off the table, and talk surrounding Marina even more so. You tried not to point out the obvious predicament, but the fact that you lived with Marina did not affect her demand. 

Miraculously, not talking about skating or Marina was the most free you’d felt in ages. It was mildly embarrassing in the beginning, when on a run with Lorealai who was also helping out at the dog shelter, because you realised all you talked about was, maybe not Marina, but definitely a lot of skating. 

You slow down a little to give Kkuma a couple minutes to breathe, but Lorealai is still running at her pace with her significantly more energetic husky, Bennie. 

“Stay there, I’ll catch up!” she yells over her shoulder as she takes the left around the block to circle back. 

You oblige, moving to a walking pace as Lorelai appears from behind you after a couple minutes. She slows to a jog and loiters around you for a minute, you increase your speed to match hers. 

“Jeonghan…” she pauses to take a breath. But your interest is piqued, especially if she was talking about the same Jeonghan you were thinking about. “Jeonghan invited me to the game this weekend.”

Hold. 

“What?” you snap.

“Game. This weekend,” she huffs, still breathing heavily. 

“Like, a hockey game?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“No, for disney on ice,” she announces. “They’re doing beauty and the beast, Jeonghan’s the beauty, Seungcheol is the beast. It’s a whole production, really. Real good stuff.”

You can only roll your eyes at the elaborate sarcasm. She continues, “Of course, it's a hockey game! What else do they do at that rink all day?”

“Gosh, sorry,” you frown. “Since when do you talk to Jeonghan?”

She looks over, wicked smile on her face. “Since I found him on Instagram.”

“You followed him?”

“No, why would I do that? Bumped into him at the gym a while ago, and we went out for coffee afterwards.”

Nothing of the ordeal is making sense, your brows still knit together and your mouth downturned in confusion. 

“Catch you in a minute!” she yelps as she takes off into a run again, Bennie right next to her as she circles round again. 

The few minutes that it’s just you and tiny Kkuma are flooded with questions. How did she just bump into Jeonghan? Lorelai hardly goes to the gym. Asking her to come to the hockey game? 

And then worst of all. 

Are they dating? 

By the time Lorelai is back, she’s out of breath again, and fully unequipped to answer all of the questions you shoot at her like rapid fire. 

“Why were you at the gym? He’s a junior league coach, he’s not even gonna be playing!”

“God!” she groans, heaving. “Slow…down.”

“Fine!” You stop in your tracks entirely, to which Lorelai is happy to oblige as she crouches with her hand on her knees. Bennie tugs at her leash, the big bounding ball of fluff ready to race the winds again. 

You count to ten, hands on your hips as Kkuma lets out a small, confused yip now that you’re completely idle on the track. 

“Talk.” 

With an all too dramatic flip of her short hair, she pulls herself up and into an explanation. “I couldn’t tell you because we weren’t talking when it all happened.”

It’s true, it did take a while for you to go back to normal after that run in with Marina in your bedroom. You suppose it won’t be happening again with the new no-Marina-talk rule, since she seemed to be quite the common factor in many of your rifts over the years. 

“I went to the gym to blow off some steam—don’t look like that, I’m being serious!” 

You make an attempt at fixing your face as she continues. 

“He saw me first and came up to say hi. Went our separate ways but once we finished up he asked if I wanted to grab a coffee since we were both done working out.” 

“And you said yes?”

“I said yes. Because he is cute, and I had been stalking his very public Instagram and it was just the perfect opportunity!” 

“So you’re dating?” you ask sharply. 

“I don’t know.”

“He asked you to the game?” you point out. 

“Well, yes, but he hasn’t asked me asked me.” Somewhere in her voice there’s the tiniest hint of disappointment. “Besides, he said to bring you as well.”

“Fuck no.”

“Come ooon! Jeonghan’s gonna be in the benches and I don’t know anyone else there!” she whines. 

“Hey, we should switch dogs!” you announce as you yank Bennie’s leash out of Lorelai’s hands, stuffing  Kkuma’s leash into her free hand. 

You take off into a sprint, and Bennie is happy to keep up with you as you quite literally run away from the situation. Lorelai is yelling your name, her annoyance abundant. 

Ignoring her is easy. Just the thought of walking into one of those games is enough to force a scoff, to watch your rink inhabited with like minded buffoonery as they ruin the bleachers and the ice. 

By the time you make it back, the hilarity of the situation hasn’t left you. And it seems neither has Lorelai, who remains standing with Kkuma at her feet, waiting to trap you. 

It’s the easiest thing to do, to turn right back around and circle the other way. 

“You can’t run away from me forever!” she shouts behind you as you disappear again. 

Maybe you couldn’t, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“You can’t run away from Seungcheol forever! Quit pretending like you aren’t dying to fall into those giant arms!” Lorelai has a very specific talent of injecting all the drama in the world in the tone of her voice. She’s sure to utilize that skill as she hollers after you. 

That seems to do it for you, slowing down, half ready to whip around and holler a profanity or two right back. 

You’re more triggered than usual, but mostly because all the jab does is remind you of the last time you saw him. The arrogance in his demeanor, the way he belittled you with just his eyes, the shadow of his towering frame, caging you like a lost animal. 

You hated it. Despised it. Despised him. His disgusting innuendos, the all so misleading innocence on his face as he cornered you with both his body and his words. 

Lorelai could deal you whatever card there was tied up her sleeve, but getting you anywhere near the rink for the game this weekend was going to require more than just dessert bribes and sweet talking. Dragging you by the ankles could be a possibility, but all for naught when you dig your nails in anyway. 

It was impossible. Not doable. Non-existent in the cards of your destiny. A repelling force. 

So why, would one ask, were you decked out in the most  heinous red scarf with the letters SVT stitched on like a warning, sitting in the bleachers and looking down at the same rink you practice your spins and jumps in everyday? 

Neither you or Lorelai could answer that question, both your stories as blurry as fog as to how either of you managed to get you in that fabled seat. 

You could see the exact place you and Seungcheol had your last showdown, the opposing team in black now occupying that side of the benches. The thought puts you in an impossibly sour mood. It’s not like Lorelai could say anything about it, half because she knows you’re one snide remark away from jumping into the merch table, and half because she was too busy making heart eyes at Jeonghan who’s just spotted her in her seat. 

“I’ll be back,” she informs haphazardly as she positively bounds down the steps to the end of the bleachers, where Jeonghan waits for her. The people in their seats shuffle, annoyed at the overenthusiastic fan who practically slides down in front of their legs towards the railing. But Lorelai couldn’t care less, not with what stood beyond that very railing. 

Tearing your eyes away from the lovebirds, you take in the hustle and bustle of the pregame happenings, most of the bleachers in disarray as they humour the merch stands and the food stalls. The rink smells different because of it, both the added number of food trucks and drink stands, but also with the amount of people that occupy the expanse. 

The only times you see the rink this packed is when you’re too wracked with nerves to notice anything other than your own two feet. Hands wringing and head spinning, the chaos of the world is nothing against the pandemonium in your mind. You’re usually wearing a sparkly dress that glitters even from the very last row of bleachers, hair taut and makeup caked on like a layer of icing. 

Taking your time, you let your eyes flit over all that you forgo the other times. The stands are a mix of red and black, and so are the benches and ice that are occupied by men in full hockey gear. 

You’re too high up to make out the names on the back of all those jerseys, let alone a face underneath the already concealing helmets. The problem is forgotten when you feel the weight of two hands slam against your folded arms, tugging you out of your seat like it was stolen property. 

“Jeonghan said we could sit closer to the benches downstairs!” Lorelai is frantic, like this wasn’t a matter of reserved seats but the last plane to leave hell itself. 

“Lor—” Finishing a sentence when she’s in this state is a luxury you learn quickly to live without, because all that concerns her right now is getting closer to the man that seems to have enraptured her like never before. 

It’s disgusting. But you follow her anyway, down the steps that you nearly eat shit on, gracefully of course, because what figure skater doesn’t fall with an epic crash worthy of an Expendables cameo. You stabilise yourself enough to get to the seats Lorelai is talking about, and sure enough, Jeonghan would barely have to get on his tiptoes to hoist himself into the bleachers altogether. You question the safety of the context but decide that it wasn’t your problem if someone decided to pounce on one of the players. 

Besides, you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t revel in the absolute scene of Seungcheol getting jumped by an over-passionate fan. You’re suddenly very grateful for the front row seats. 

There’s a bucket of chicken tenders and fries in your lap out of nowhere, matching the one in Lorelai’s hands. “Also Jeonghan?” you hum as you inspect the sauce options. 

“Mhm, he’s friends with the vendor outside,” she grins. 

You narrow your eyes at the revelation, finding it utmost strange how close he seems to be with nearly everyone. “Why is he on the benches, again?” you ask. 

“Because—” she draws before you cut her off. 

“Friends with the coach?”

“How’d you know?!” she exclaims. Her attention is diverted as the speakers suddenly boom with something other than generic pop music. So is yours, when you hear a deep baritone of a commentator’s voice carries throughout the rink. 

The shuffle around you is suddenly doubling in speed, everyone getting into their seats. You look over in front of you, where the benches are in an equally panicked shuffle. You spot Jeonghan easily, mostly because he’s one of the few in the vicinity without a helmet or what looks like a giant space suit. The next thing you note is the person he’s talking to, his back turned to you, but familiar all the same. 

CHOI, 95, reads his jersey. Automatically, your jaw clenches.  “Don’t look over there!” Lorelai chides, grabbing your jaw and moving it to force you to rip your eyes away from him. 

“Lorelai, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but unlike your boy toy, he’s actually gonna be on the ice,” you verbalise through clenched teeth. 

“Don’t look at the ice,” she blurts. 

Rolling your eyes, you only listen as she realises what she’s said. “Okay, um, look at Jeon instead! Or Kim, or Boo, just. For god’s sake, there’s fifty other players on the ice, just don’t let one of them ruin your night!” 

“I’m fine,” you grumble, sinking into your seat. 

It isn’t long before your eyes trail over anyway, and Seungcheol still doesn’t have his helmet on. You can see his face now, and he looks like he’s mad at Jeonghan about something. 

Inevitably, your mind wanders to the fated article that somehow made its way into your recommended, the certainty it put in you that Seungcheol didn’t stand a chance in his team anymore. It seemed true enough, his anger, that he continues to display, seemed to be his default emotional setting. 

Your hockey knowledge was subpar at best, but one thing you did know was the aggression factor of the sport. Of all the things that could cut his career clean down the middle, this was the last of your guesses.  

Even now, as you watch him absentmindedly point and jerk like his supposed friend had managed to bring him something that was personally offensive, it’s all connecting too well. 

But when you snap into reality, you realise very quickly that he was pointing…at you. 

Seungcheol is mad that Jeonghan (effectively) brought you to the match. 

A chortle of disbelief is quick to make itself known, wanting to yell across the throng that you were every bit as upset that he was in your vicinity too. It also brings you satisfaction, a pure grain of hope, that maybe this would be enough for him to completely fuck up on the ice today. 

You say a quick amen before the baritone of the commentator makes itself known again. The echo is too much for you to decipher what’s going on, but you have your answer when you watch the reds and the blacks form what looks like a line across the width of the rink, right in the center. 

You don’t register when the puck landed, or if it was always there, just that the loud clacks and bangs are in tandem with the cheer from the crowds. The puck is an impossible commodity to keep up with, even with just your eyes. It appears for a moment before it’s lost again, shooting around in your peripheral vision like a pesky fly you can never get a hold of. 

“What is happening?” you whisper to yourself. 

Lorelai answers anyway, snorting, “Fuck if I know.”

The numbers on the lit screens are doing nothing to help out your predicament, too much happening for you to even begin to deconstruct. You choose to lay back and enjoy your chicken tenders and fries, complimenting the sauce choices to Lorelai along the way, who continues to calibrate her attention on the man that remains in the benches. Jeonghan looks over periodically to send her a wave and a blinding smile. 

You’ve made a good enough dent in your chicken and fries bucket by the time it’s intermission, about ready for a drink by now. Lorelai makes herself useful and runs down to get you both something, mostly because Jeonghan was now more focused on the team that’s huddled around one another, another man you assume is their coach huddled right with them. 

The scores are 2-2, as provided by the person behind you who was apparently sick of your placid obliviousness. It did feel slightly awkward to be the only person not as excited to be front and center, so you remind yourself to thank him profusely. 

Your attention drifts back to the benches, inevitably as you’ve been so unfortunately placed to be able to breathe down the player’s necks. They’ve dispersed from their huddle, but are not yet on the ice. They’re sitting down, catching their breaths, drinking from water bottles. On the other side, the opposing team, a sea of black and white flooding their own end of the benches. It’s a sinking colour, not an ounce of depth in the shade. It’s taking over the benches. 

Except it’s the players that are moving, like they’re diffusing into the scarlet territory. 

You watch, as one player in black moves his mouth, speaking, upturned and eyebrows cocked. It’s clear he’s gone well past enemy lines, the front lines suddenly at attention. There’s not much you can make out, nothing much besides the very haughty expression on the player’s face. His eyes are covered by the sweaty mop on his head, but you don’t need to see them to find the malice that infiltrates his entire stance.

The scene, where both sides seem to be closing in on each other, has you automatically sitting up straighter. The air is going static, especially as you realise the player's mouth is moving faster as he jabs at — Seungcheol. 

They’re fighting, only verbally for now, but it’s undeniable the way the heat grows by the second. All you can see is the back of Seugncheol’s jersey as he begins to step back from the ordeal, like he was fighting the urge to take a step forward instead. 

Jeonghan’s hand is on Seungcheol’s elbow, and one glance at the rest of the players on this side shows every last one on edge. Their coach is nowhere to be seen. 

But he doesn’t stop talking, still standing in their territory. He yells something loud enough to hear the pitch of his voice, but not nearly enough to understand what he’s saying. 

You could see it on the player’s face. Hook, line and sinker. 

It happens so suddenly. Seungcheol surges forward like a dart, something flies out and hits the player square in the face. 

Seungcheol had spat his mouth guard into his face. 

You gasp out loud as you register what’s happening. The player removes his hand from his face, and for some reason, emerges grinning. 

Seungcheol swings first, his fist rising and coming down on his cheek with a sound you can hear. You feel nauseous. 

It’s pandemonium. You can see Jeonghan practically on top of Seungcheol, a number of other players attempting to get him off the man he continues to grab and shake up like a fugitive. The other player is throwing his own punches.

For one, horrifying moment, the force of the punch pushes Seungcheol’s face towards the stands enough to let you get an eyeful. All you see is red, beyond just his jersey. His mouth is full of blood, the front of his jersey dripped with it, his knuckles clustered with it. 

The hand clasped around your mouth is your own, eyes blown in horror. 

All around you, the world has their phones out like it was some show meant just for them, like this was exactly what they came here for. 

It’s sickening. Sickening. 

You brave another look, and they’ve been yanked off of one another. Seungcheol is being pushed down the tunnel and away from sight. Jeonghan has his hands clutched around Seungcheol like he’s nearly ready for another outbreak, his face grim. 

Your eyes keep away from Seungcheol’s face on purpose.  “Goodness, what is going on, I could barely get through the crowd,” Lorelai’s irritated voice infiltrates your ears, and you’re immediately brought back down to earth. 

Arms full of more snacks and drinks, it only takes her one look at your rattled self to know. 

“What happened?”

“I…they were…fighting. I don’t know, it just—Seungcheol was throwing punches and there was…blood, so much blood.”

She’s gotten a grip on your hand, her fingers warm under your cold, shivering ones. “Do you wanna leave?” she asks slowly. 

One look over her shoulder is enough to tell you it’d be impossible. Everyone was too excited to care to cater to two people going in the opposite direction of the action. So you tell her there was no point, and you attempt to calm your racing heart as she sits next to you. 

Snagging one of the packs from her mountain of snacks, you rip it open and let the sickly sweet smell infiltrate your nostrils. Popping one of the confections in your mouth, it’s hard to not make a face. It’s the sourest thing you could’ve picked, the tartness enough to distract you from the outside world. Eyes scrunched closed, you swallow the rush of saliva to ask Lorelai what the fuck she brought.

You chortle, and it has Lorelai looking over. “Whoops! That one’s mine.”

She snags the bag from your loosened grip, replacing it with a tamer bag of original flavoured potato chips. The chips are trying, but there’s not much you can do besides wait for the residues of the godawful candy to subside. 

The ordeal seems to have calmed you the slightest bit, finally able to turn back to the ice. The rink is back to being occupied, players from both ends pouring onto the ice. You note a minor shoulder shove at the gate, but look away like it’d stop the calamity from intensifying. 

The game ensues as normal, but you note the blatant absence of CHOI in the sea of red and white jerseys. You don’t mention it, and neither does Lorelai. 

You’re about to burst by the time the finals moments are upon the game, the overtime minutes beginning to tick as the crowd grows restless by the second. With the little you’ve managed to grasp, you’re sure that SVT is only one goal away from the overtake. It’s making you nervous, like you’re waiting for your own score to be announced after a free skate. 

The puck is a mere percentage easier to navigate after a couple hours of keeping after it; it skips between players you’re beginning to recognise from the back of their jersey. Kim, Boo, Wen, Kim, Lee. The opposing team intercepts for a moment, and you find yourself letting out an irritated shake of the shoulders. Back to Kim, Lee, Lee, and then, right into the net. 

The jittering crowd suddenly went so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

And then the world around you erupts. It’s impossible to classify the sound as cheers when racketeers off your entire being like an unearthly sound, the stands on their feet hollering and screaming and yelling at their players that are fighting to keep their new overtake in the final seconds before the game officially ends. 

And when it does, you’re sure you need to get your ears checked out. 

Looking over, you catch Lorelai’s eye, and you can’t help but laugh. A delightful laugh that releases itself in the midst of the chaos of red, scarlet and cherry. Somebody’s thrown a red blanket over you, another has begun to hand out congratulatory cherry lollipops (you pass, but Lorealai would be damned if she did), people are hugging each other so tight and you get the inkling they’ve only met each other today. 

The ice is one giant dogpile, red on red as they suffocate one another in celebration. 

Perhaps you didn’t realise how important the game actually was, or maybe every game is like this, loud, proud and exultant. You find yourself imagining how they feel. 

The lost feeling of bouquets and flowers whisked in your direction, stuffed animals and hundreds of other things that scream adoration as your performance comes to a close. It’s a physical manifestation of an adoring crowd, as though making it tangible makes it a little more real. 

The rush, you can feel it resonate off of the scarlet side of the benches, and it’s enough for you to realise that yes, this was an important match. For them anyway. 

The way out of the rink is reasonably packed, but you manage to squeeze through the doors and towards where Lorelai had parked with fewer than expected obstruction. “Thought you might wait to see Jeonghan before we leave,” you hum as you walk to the parking spot. 

“I was going to, but he’s probably dealing with what happened,” she utters slowly. A flash of red at the mention, gone as soon as it came. Lorelai adds with a little extra pep to her voice, “It’s okay! I’ll send him a text, we were planning on dinner tomorrow anyway.”

The side eye you send is met with a light shove. “This one seems serious. Dragging me here for his sake and now dinner with him?”

Lorelai was infamous for taking it excruciatingly slow, the time between the talking stage and the first date stretching for months. She claims it’s to make sure she's not roping herself into something she’d regret, which you’ll admit has seemed to work out in her favour. Her last relationship lasted years before Josh had to move away. 

Jeonghan seems to have her under some warped spell, because Lorelai was hurtling into this relationship like a too compressed cannon ball. There was nothing you knew about Jeonghan other than his friendship with Seungcheol, his position as junior league coach and his habit of loitering on the ice; which means there wasn’t much opinion to be had on the whole conquest. Regardless, you decide to caution her some other day, when she’s not glowing and over the moon like a robust teenager. 

Slipping into the passenger seat, you slump like never before, already dreaming about the bedrotting session you’re about to have; glorious enough for the books. 

“Do you wanna grab food and rot on the couch?” she asks. 

“You’re still hungry after all that?” you huff, your mouth still flavoured with artificial sweetness paired with the savoury of the chicken and fries. You pull out your phone for the first time in nearly three hours, the home screen alarming full of missed notifications. Text messages, mentions and phone calls. For whatever reason, you swipe right past and open your browser. 

“It’ll take about an hour till we’re settled, should be hungry enough by then,” she comments, a gentle growl coming from beneath you as the engine comes to life. 

Somewhere between the lines of the seatbelt sign pinging, and the radio blaring itself into the space, you’ve read a headline that’s enough to halt your world. 

“There’s this new Chinese place that opened nearby here. Or this Persian restaurant but it’s like 20 minutes in the other direction. Or do we just do soup—”

“Lorelai.”

She turns to look at you in the passenger seat, seatbelt alarm still dinging as you remain with your seatbelt off as she pulls out of the parking space, like the official soundtrack to your doom. She brakes, hard. Lorelai is always Lorry with you, her full name only ever when you’re feigning irritation. 

There’s nothing irritating about the situation, but everything is wrong with it. 

It’s like you were in the benches, taking punches while simultaneously throwing a few yourself. You’re out of breath still seated, your skin tingles like a million arachnids crawling under your skin under your layers. You’re in the eddy of a horrifying whirlpool, that’s pulling you down, down, down, down, down, down—

!HOT TOPIC!

FIGURE SKATER OR FIGURINE? NOTHING GRACEFUL ABOUT Y/N L/N’S FALL FROM THE PINNACLE OF THE SKATING WORLD. Read from the Source!

From a pocket princess, to a rising star. From a rising star to the top of the world. From the top of the world to… a bottomless hell? How did Y/N L/N end up here? 

It’s nothing new that L/N’s presence was notable during the flashy ISU Grand Prix held in Beijing last year, the podium notably shuffled as a result. The skater’s ankle injury was never awarded a career ending title, but with the way her comeback remains as foggy as it did since the initial announcement, one must begin to wonder if we’ll ever see L/N on the competitive ice again. 

Or perhaps she’s simply lost her spark? 

Trusted sources report that L/N’s sponsors are growing weary of her extended vacation, and are just about ready to pull the rug! In addition, sources also report her floundering lack of consistency in practice sessions on the ice, her condition beyond someone as onerous as even Isabella Carroll to manoeuvre into success. Talk about futile! 

Now, we’re all hoping that our glittering gold medalist is only a victim of mindless chatter, however, we must concede, neither we nor our sources are holding on to too much hope. 

Keep on the lookout for more updates from us on our fallen (?) star!

[a/n]: hehehehehe remember to reblog and tell me your thoughts

[solxamber]

'Elloo! :D I saw your requests open, can I request some hcs or short imagines for the first, second, and third years, separate characters?? Or you can just do it as a single scenario with all the characters. They're (Their??) reaction when they've realized the things reader/Yuu had to go through starting from the very beginning ,when they first got transported to the school. Like, the shock of not being able to go home, new environment, the fear-- just the emotional and mental turmoil reader/yuu went through starting from the beginning.

Also, as time goes by it just gets worse and worse along with all the overblots and stuff that got reader/Yuu over the edge. And now the students kind of help?? Or at least try to soothe or comfort the reader I guess??

Does this make any sense?? I dunno :'D

I want me some angst hehe >:]

But if this is kind of too much then it's okii if you wanna skip this one, I love the effort you put into your writings! <3

I kinda just wanted to ramble and yap about this idea I had hehe

Toodles!

thank you!! and i'm sorry it too so long, but i hope you like it <3

They realise what you went through - All NRC + Rollo + Neige + Grim, Staff

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle doesn’t realize the extent of your struggle until much later, likely after witnessing you reach your breaking point. The way you bottle up your emotions reminds him of himself before his own overblot, and it fills him with guilt. He prides himself on upholding order, but he feels like he failed to notice the chaos within you.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Riddle asks, voice trembling as he stands before you, his normally stern expression soft with regret. He places a hesitant hand on your shoulder, unsure if he has the right to offer comfort after overlooking your pain for so long. “I… I should have noticed. I’m sorry.”

Riddle dives into a methodical plan to ease your burdens. He takes on your academic concerns, ensuring your assignments are manageable and offering personal tutoring. When you’re overwhelmed, he insists you take breaks in Heartslabyul’s peaceful rose garden. While he’s not good at openly expressing affection, he’s steadfast, always by your side with words of encouragement and warm tea.

Trey Clover

Trey picks up on your struggles sooner than most, his observant nature allowing him to notice the small cracks in your demeanor. He doesn’t pry but stays close, offering quiet support until he realizes you’re beyond your limit. His heart aches knowing you’ve been carrying so much without asking for help.

“Hey… you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” Trey says softly, kneeling beside you as you sit slumped in an empty classroom. His usual calm demeanor is tinged with concern. “I’ve seen you pushing yourself too hard. You’re not alone in this, you know.”

Trey becomes your sanctuary. He’s the type to cook comforting meals for you, often sneaking you your favorite desserts. He encourages you to talk at your own pace, listening without judgment. Trey also ensures you’re surrounded by people who care, gently urging you to spend time with friends so you never feel isolated again.

Cater Diamond

Cater doesn’t fully realize how bad things are until he catches you breaking down when you think no one is watching. The sight hits him hard—he’s used to wearing masks himself, but seeing you put on a brave face while falling apart reminds him of his own struggles.

“Whoa, hey, hey…” Cater’s voice is unusually soft as he crouches in front of you, the playful lilt replaced with genuine worry. “You’ve been holding all this in, haven’t you? Man, that’s not healthy… You should’ve told me!”

Cater becomes your cheerleader, using his energy to lift your spirits. He takes you on spontaneous outings, distracting you with fun activities and selfies to remind you of life’s lighter side. When you need to vent, he’s surprisingly patient, letting you talk without interruptions. His go-to phrase becomes, “No filter, just let it out. I’m here.”

Ace Trappola

Ace is the last to understand the depth of your pain, brushing off your struggles as stress until you finally snap. Seeing you cry or lash out leaves him dumbstruck—he’s not used to serious emotions and struggles to process it at first. But beneath his awkwardness, he genuinely cares.

“Whoa… I didn’t think it was this bad.” Ace rubs the back of his neck, guilt clear in his expression. “Look, I’m sorry if I made things worse. I didn’t mean to. I just… didn’t know.”

Ace sticks close to you in his own Ace-like way. He cracks jokes to make you laugh and distracts you with playful banter, but he’s also there for the serious moments. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, he drags you outside to play a quick game of basketball or to look at the stars, insisting, “You’ve gotta clear your head, or you’ll go crazy.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce notices your struggles but doesn’t know how to approach you about them. When he finally sees you crumble, it makes him feel like he’s failed as your friend. His protective instincts kick in, and he becomes determined to help you in any way he can.

“Wait—you’ve been feeling like this the whole time?” Deuce’s voice is thick with emotion as he looks at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something! I’m supposed to have your back!”

Deuce takes your well-being seriously, to the point of overcompensating at first. He insists on walking you to class, carrying your things, and defending you against anything he perceives as a threat (real or imagined). Over time, he learns to provide quiet support, sitting with you during tough moments and saying, “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is a perceptive man, even if he acts otherwise, but your struggles slip under his radar for too long. It isn’t until he notices how you’ve stopped rising to his teasing or how the light in your eyes has dimmed that the gravity of your situation hits him. It reminds him of his own sense of isolation, and the guilt gnaws at him.

“Tch. You think you’re the only one who has to deal with this crap?” Leona’s voice is gruff, but there’s no malice in it. He sighs, sitting beside you under the shade of a tree. “You should’ve said something sooner, herbivore. Doesn’t mean you have to carry it all yourself.”

Leona doesn’t coddle you, but his actions speak louder than his words. He offers his presence, silently inviting you to nap in the botanical gardens with him when you need a break. If anyone dares to make your life harder, Leona handles it with a quiet, lethal efficiency. “Rest up. You’re not falling apart on my watch.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie notices your struggles quickly, but his initial reaction is to brush it off as normal stress—until he sees you genuinely hit your breaking point. It stuns him; he’s used to dealing with hardships himself but hates the idea of you enduring the same without support.

“Oi, don’t do this to yourself,” Ruggie says, his usual playful tone replaced by something softer. “You’re not alone, y’know? I don’t let my people suffer in silence. That’s not how we roll.”

Ruggie uses his resourcefulness to lighten your load however he can. He sneaks you snacks, takes care of tedious tasks for you, and even makes you laugh with his sharp wit. When you’re overwhelmed, he shares stories of his struggles to show you that it’s okay to lean on others. “You’ve got me, okay? I’ll make sure you’re okay, promise.”

Jack Howl

Jack notices the signs of your stress early on, but he hesitates to bring it up, unsure if it’s his place. When he finally realizes how deeply you’re struggling, it stirs a protective instinct in him, and he immediately resolves to do whatever it takes to help you.

“You should’ve told me,” Jack says, his voice low and filled with regret. His ears twitch as he glances away, guilt etched across his face. “I could’ve helped. You don’t have to do this on your own anymore.”

Jack becomes your steadfast support, encouraging you to exercise or go for runs to clear your mind. He’s a calming presence, offering quiet companionship when words aren’t enough. “You’re strong, but you don’t always have to be. Let me help carry the weight, okay?”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prides himself on noticing vulnerabilities in others, but your ability to mask your pain throws him off. When the cracks finally show, it shakes him deeply, reminding him of his own insecurities and the times he felt powerless.

“I didn’t realize…” Azul murmurs, his hands wringing nervously as he looks at you with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I should have seen it. I’m sorry—for everything. Let me help you now.”

Azul’s approach is practical and calculated, but it’s rooted in genuine care. He offers to take over responsibilities or negotiate solutions to ease your stress. When you’re overwhelmed, he’s unexpectedly tender, sitting with you in his VIP room and reminding you, “Even the strongest need someone to lean on. You’ve been there for others; let us be here for you.”

Jade Leech

Jade notices your struggles early but refrains from intervening, assuming you’ll reach out when you’re ready. When he realizes how much you’ve been bottling up, he’s surprised and slightly guilty for not addressing it sooner.

“My, you’ve been carrying quite the burden,” Jade says, his usual calm tinged with regret. “It seems I underestimated just how much you’ve endured. Forgive my oversight.”

Jade is a master of subtlety, offering comfort in ways that feel natural and unintrusive. He invites you on quiet walks through the woods, using the serene atmosphere to help ease your mind. When words are needed, he listens attentively, his soothing voice offering reassurance. “Do not hesitate to lean on me, should you need support. I’ll always be here.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd doesn’t realize how bad things are until you completely snap, and even then, it takes him a moment to process that your outburst isn’t just a temporary mood. Seeing you so broken flips a switch in him, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.

“Shrimpy, why didn’t you say anything?” Floyd’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet, his sharp eyes scanning your face. He pouts, but there’s no mischief in it—just genuine concern. “You don’t gotta handle everything alone, y’know?”

Floyd sticks to you like glue, his unpredictable nature becoming a strange source of comfort. He drags you out for spontaneous adventures, insisting that fun will help you feel better. When you’re feeling low, he’s surprisingly gentle, wrapping you in a tight hug and muttering, “I gotcha, Shrimpy. Nobody’s messin’ with you while I’m here.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is always full of energy and positivity, so it takes him a while to notice the depths of your struggles. When he does, he’s devastated, blaming himself for not seeing it sooner.

“Wait—you’ve been feeling like this?” Kalim’s eyes widen, tears threatening to spill. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something to help!”

Kalim does everything in his power to brighten your days. He showers you with gifts, invites you to lively parties, and insists on spending time together to lift your spirits. When he realizes that quiet support means more than grand gestures, he sits with you, holding your hand. “You’re not alone, okay? I’ll always be here for you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil is highly observant, and while he notices your struggles early on, he assumes you’re managing on your own until he sees how much you’ve truly endured. It reminds him of his own bottled-up frustrations, and guilt eats at him for not acting sooner.

“...I should’ve known,” Jamil mutters, his voice low and filled with regret. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I’ve been through this too. I know what it’s like to feel trapped. I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner.”

Jamil’s care comes in quiet, thoughtful gestures. He prepares your favorite meals, arranges peaceful moments away from the chaos of NRC, and ensures you never feel overwhelmed alone. “You’ve done more than enough. Let me take care of things for a while.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil’s sharp eyes catch the signs of your struggles quickly, but he initially brushes them off, believing you’ll overcome them like any challenge. When the full weight of your burden becomes clear, he’s horrified and deeply regretful for not intervening sooner.

“I failed to notice something so glaringly obvious,” Vil says, his tone laced with self-reproach. “That’s not acceptable—not as your friend and certainly not as someone who should’ve supported you better.”

Vil approaches your comfort with precision and care, determined to help you regain your footing. He insists on self-care days, encourages you to vent your frustrations, and teaches you grounding techniques. “You’re stronger than you think, but even the strongest need rest. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Rook Hunt

Rook is attuned to the emotions of those around him, and your pain does not escape his notice. He marvels at your resilience but is deeply saddened that you’ve been enduring so much without seeking help.

“Mon cher trésor, your suffering… it pains me to think I let you endure this alone,” Rook says softly, his gaze earnest. “You’ve carried a weight that no one should bear by themselves. Allow me to lighten your burden.”

Rook’s support is poetic and heartfelt, crafting moments of beauty to remind you of the world’s wonders. Whether it’s a bouquet of flowers, a handwritten letter, or a quiet moment under the stars, he ensures you feel cherished. “You are not alone in this grand stage of life, and I shall remain by your side as your steadfast ally.”

Epel Felmier

Epel is initially too caught up in his own frustrations to notice the extent of your struggles, but once he sees you falter, his protective side kicks in. It reminds him of his own insecurities about being underestimated.

“Aw, geez, why didn’t ya say somethin’?” Epel frowns, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’re always lookin’ out for us, but ya never let anyone do the same for you. That ain’t fair.”

Epel takes a straightforward approach, offering to help however he can. He sticks close, ensuring you never feel alone, and encourages you to vent when needed. “You’re tough as nails, but that doesn’t mean you gotta do it all by yourself. We’re a team, remember?”

Idia Shroud

Idia is slow to notice your struggles, being so wrapped up in his own world, but when he realizes the extent of your pain, it hits him hard. He sees a reflection of his own struggles in you and feels immense guilt for not seeing it sooner.

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” Idia mumbles, his voice trembling. His hair dims as he nervously fiddles with his tablet. “I should’ve… I don’t know, paid more attention. I’m sorry. I—I wanna help, if you’ll let me.”

Idia comforts you in his own awkward way, creating a safe space where you can relax without judgment. He shares his favorite games, shows, and quiet moments, offering you an escape from the chaos. “You don’t have to be ‘okay’ all the time. Just… take it easy for now. I’m here if you need me.”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho is one of the first to notice your struggles, his advanced sensors picking up on changes in your emotional and physical state. His concern is immediate, and he wastes no time in seeking to help.

“You’ve been so sad for so long, haven’t you?” Ortho’s voice is soft, as he hovers close. “I wish I could’ve made you smile sooner. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting.”

Ortho’s comfort is warm and reassuring, filled with optimism and boundless energy. He’s always ready with encouraging words, small gifts, or simply a cheerful presence to brighten your day. “You’re not alone! I’ll do everything I can to help you feel better, okay?”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus has always sensed something amiss about your emotions, his acute sensitivity to auras making it impossible for him to overlook your struggles. However, he hesitates to approach, fearing he might overstep or worsen your burdens. When he finally understands the depth of your pain, he is both heartbroken and determined to help.

“You’ve been enduring this in silence?” His deep voice is laced with regret as his green eyes soften. “If only I had been more attentive, perhaps I could have eased your pain.”

Malleus ensures you feel his unwavering support. He invites you for peaceful strolls under the stars, shares his favorite quiet spots, and reassures you with his calming presence. “You are precious to me. Whatever darkness surrounds you, I will remain by your side until the light returns.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia has lived long enough to recognize the signs of emotional turmoil, and it pains him to see you suffer. While he often masks his seriousness with cheerfulness, he doesn’t hesitate to step in when he sees you reaching your breaking point.

“Oh, little one, you’ve carried such a heavy heart all this time.” His playful demeanor fades into solemnity as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Lilia comforts you with wisdom and warmth, drawing on centuries of experience. He shares stories to make you laugh, cooks (albeit questionable) meals to distract you, and offers sage advice when you’re ready to talk. “Life’s trials are harsh, but you’re stronger than you know. And if you need someone to lean on, I’ll always be here.”

Silver

Silver is observant despite his drowsy nature, and he’s one of the first to notice your growing exhaustion. When he realizes the extent of your suffering, he feels deeply remorseful for not acting sooner.

“I should have seen this sooner,” Silver says quietly, his tone filled with regret. “You’ve always looked out for others… I should’ve done the same for you.”

Silver stays by your side, offering silent, steady support. He doesn’t push you to talk but is always ready to listen when you’re ready. His calm demeanor helps ground you, and he often sits quietly with you under a tree or by a calm lake. “You’re not alone. I’ll protect you—not just from danger, but from this weight you’re carrying.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek’s initial reaction is frustration—not at you, but at himself for failing to notice your struggles while being so focused on Malleus. His loyalty shifts into overdrive as he becomes determined to help you.

“You’ve been struggling this much, and I didn’t see it?!” Sebek’s voice is loud, but there’s a rare softness in his expression. “That is… unacceptable. I failed you as a companion.”

Sebek’s attempts to comfort you are a bit clumsy but heartfelt. He insists on helping you with daily tasks and loudly declares his commitment to your well-being. Despite his rough edges, his sincerity shines through. “Know this: I will not allow you to suffer alone any longer. You have my loyalty, now and always.”

Rollo Flamme

Rollo’s disdain for magic only deepens when he realizes how much you’ve suffered due to the chaos and overblots of NRC. His concern for you is genuine, though it’s laced with anger toward the school and its culture.

“This place… It’s a cesspool of disorder and harm,” Rollo says, his voice cold yet trembling with suppressed emotion. “You’ve been caught in its web for too long. You deserve better.”

Rollo’s comfort is practical and protective. He tries to create a sense of normalcy for you, offering quiet, structured moments away from the chaos. His words are sharp but sincere. “You deserve a life of peace and stability. If you can’t find it here, I’ll do what I can to give it to you.”

Neige LeBlanche

Neige is quick to notice your distress, his naturally empathetic nature making him keenly aware of your struggles. He’s horrified to think of you enduring so much alone and wants to do everything in his power to make you smile again.

“Oh no… You’ve been feeling like this?” Neige’s voice is soft, his eyes brimming with concern. “You don’t deserve to carry such sadness by yourself.”

Neige’s comfort is gentle and uplifting. He sings for you, offers kind words, and encourages you to express your feelings without fear. “You’re so strong, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to let someone take care of you for a change.”

Grim

Grim initially doesn’t notice your struggles, his focus often on his own ambitions and mischief. When he finally realizes how much you’ve been enduring, he feels both guilt and panic.

“Hey… You’re not okay, are ya?” Grim’s ears droop as he looks up at you, his voice unusually soft. “Why didn’t ya tell me? I—I’m supposed to be your partner!”

Grim becomes fiercely protective, sticking by your side at all times. He tries to cheer you up with his antics and insists on being your “emotional support boss.” “You’re stuck with me, got it? So don’t go actin’ like you’re all alone. I won’t let ya.”

Staff:

Crowley

Crowley prides himself on being the "benevolent" headmaster, but when he realizes how much you’ve suffered under his care—or lack thereof—he’s struck by a rare pang of guilt. While he’s not one to admit fault outright, he becomes visibly uncomfortable with the weight of his oversight.

“My dear, you’ve been carrying all of this on your shoulders?” His dramatic flair falters for a moment, his usual exuberance replaced with awkward sincerity. “I… suppose I may have been a tad neglectful in ensuring your well-being.”

Crowley tries to make amends in his own roundabout way, offering resources, extended accommodations, or attempting to be more attentive (though his efforts are often misguided). “Rest assured, I shall personally oversee that you are well cared for! You have my full support—within reason, of course.”

Divus Crewel

Crewel is not one to tolerate weakness, but when he sees the toll everything has taken on you, his stern demeanor softens. He’s the type to take immediate, no-nonsense action to ensure you’re taken care of.

“You’ve let it get this bad without saying a word?” His sharp tone is laced with frustration, but his eyes betray his concern. “Pup, I thought I taught you better than to carry burdens alone.”

Crewel’s approach is practical yet caring. He insists you rest, brings you comforting meals, and ensures you know you’re valued. “You’re stronger than you think, but even the strongest need support. Lean on me, pup. I’ll make sure you’re back to full strength in no time.”

Mozus Trein

Trein is a man of wisdom and observation. He likely noticed your struggles but respected your space, waiting for the right time to step in. When he realizes the full extent of your distress, he feels deep regret for not intervening sooner.

“I should have addressed this earlier.” His voice is steady but tinged with remorse. “You’ve faced more challenges than any student should. It’s a testament to your resilience, but it shouldn’t have come to this.”

Trein offers gentle guidance, providing stability and reassurance. He shares stories of his own trials and reminds you that even the hardest times pass. “Life is fraught with difficulties, but you’ve shown remarkable courage. Allow others to help shoulder the burden—you need not face this alone.”

Ashton Vargas

Vargas isn’t the most emotionally perceptive, but when it finally clicks that you’re struggling, he’s hit with a wave of guilt. He immediately shifts gears, trading his usual boisterousness for genuine concern.

“Whoa… I had no idea it was this bad,” Vargas says, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? I would’ve helped in a heartbeat!”

Vargas focuses on physical activity as a form of comfort, encouraging you to blow off steam in healthy ways. He also offers constant positive reinforcement. “You’re tough, kid, but even the toughest need a break. Let’s get some fresh air and clear your head—you’ve got this!”

Sam

Sam has always been attuned to the emotions of others, so when he realizes the depth of your struggles, he feels a pang of regret for not stepping in sooner. His usual upbeat demeanor becomes tinged with quiet sympathy.

“Well, well… Looks like someone’s been carrying more than their fair share.” His voice is soft, his usual grin replaced with a concerned expression. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

Sam provides comfort through small but meaningful gestures, like preparing your favorite treats or giving you space to talk. He reassures you with his calming presence and wise words. “Don’t keep it bottled up, friend. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid. I’m here to help you through it.”

Masterlist

[hoshifighting]

Hey I want to ask if you could do seventeen talking during sex like not during an orgams but just like you know sex please and thank you 💖

how seventeen talks to you during sex

seungcheol is not much of a taaalker during sex, but when he does speak... is all about control, he wants you to be following every single orders he asks. “stay still,” his grip on your thighs firm. “i want to feel every. inch. of. you.” or... “move your hips, just like that,” “good girl, keep going.” likes the way you are completely under his control, craving his approval.

jeonghan’s method of torment is different; he loves seeing you struggle. “do you like that? can you tell me how it feels?” his questions come between thrusts, making it hard for you to form coherent answers. your stuttered responses amuse him

joshua is gentle, almost reverent in the way he touches you. he’s not one for dirty talk, but his coos and murmurs are just as effective. “you’re so beautiful,” but when he’s mad, the filthy words spill from his lips. “you think you can just tease me like that? take this, you little slut” his words are rare but works everytime.

junhui doesn’t mean to dirty talk; it just slips out. “god, you’re so tight” he moans, his hands gripping your hips. “feels so fucking good.” his words are natural and unfiltered, an honest expression of how good you make him feel.

hoshi can’t keep his mouth shut, narrating every sensation, every reaction. “god, you’re squeezing me so tight. love how you feel around me.” his words are a constant stream, making you blush and squirm.

wonwoo’s quiet exterior hides a filthy mouth. “you like being fucked like this, don’t you? such a dumb little slut for me.” his harsh words contrasting with the tenderness in his eyes, making you feel cherished even as he reduces you to a whimpering mess.

jihoon is typically quiet, but his words are clear. “keep your legs spread,” he instructs “don’t move or I’ll stop.” but when he’s feeling more romantic, his tone softens. “i love you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves within you.

minghao has become surprisingly vocal, his initial reluctance giving way to a newfound enthusiasm. “so tight around me. fuck, keep clenching like that.” his words make you clench tigther around him, a reaction he’s learned to love, encouraging him to keep talking.

mingyu can’t stop moaning and whimpering, his rambling almost constant. “oh god, oh god, you feel so good. can’t stop, can’t think.” his voice is breathless, his words barely coherent, but the reason behind them makes you feel powerful, knowing you’re the one making him lose control.

seokmin balances sweetness with nasty. “u’re the love of my life,” he says, before his tone shifts. “now take m’cock like the dirty little slut you are.” his dual nature keeps you on your toes

seungkwan’s sassiness comes through in his teasing. “do you like that? answer me.” his questions are a challenge, and when you can’t answer, he laughs softly. “come on, tell me how much you love it.” he knows you can’t form coherent words, and he loves every second of it. “i’ll take that moan as a yes.”

vernon likes to hear you talk, his questions designed to hear you yapping ab how good it feels. “does that feel good?” “tell me, baby. let me hear you. i dare you.” his low, steady voice encourages you to speak, even as the pleasure makes it difficult. he relishes every stuttered word because he needs to hear your struggling to answer him, each broken word turning him on more.

chan’s thoughts spill out uncontrollably. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. “god, i love fucking you. you feel so fucking good” his words are bare and sincere, no filter between his thoughts and his voice. his lack of filter even shocked you at first.

[moonstruckme]

hi i love your blog! could you write poly!marauders where james is away on a business trip and everyone is moping because they miss him

Hi, I love you! Thanks for requesting :)

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 864 words

You feel a bit guilty resting your head on Sirius' shoulder while longing for another. But you reason that it’s not so bad if the one you’re longing for is Sirius’ boyfriend, too. And you like to think that if it were James’ warm, cushiony shoulder you were leaning against, you’d be missing Sirius instead. 

“How was everyone’s day?” you ask. 

Remus turns to give you a peculiar look. “It was fine. We talked about this already, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I just feel like we’re not usually so quiet during the commercial breaks.” 

“Our yapper’s gone,” Sirius says, sulkily. 

“James does usually start the conversation,” admits Remus. “But we don’t need him to talk. Right?” 

“Right.” You nod, sitting up with what you hope looks like conviction. “Sirius, you can yap just as well as James can.” 

“Yeah, but I need him to get me going.” Your boyfriend sighs heavily. “He’d probably ask something like ‘If we were all in a circus, what would our roles be?’ and I can’t come up with shit like that.”

“No, that’s great!” You try to sound peppy. “Um, okay. Sirius would probably be a trapeze artist, right?” 

Remus nods. “And I could see you being a tightrope walker.” 

You both look to Sirius for his analysis, but he looks unimpressed. Still, he plays along. “Rem would be one of those blokes who eat fire, likely.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. 

See, you can have fun! This is fun, right? But then your film comes back on, and you all lapse into silence again. 

“James would’ve never let us watch this,” you say after a few minutes. “He’d have made us pick a comedy or something.” 

“And he would’ve been right,” Sirius agrees. “This is fucking bleak.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Remus says, making you and Sirius exchange a look. For as much as James loves Remus, he’s most often the victim of his film vetoes. Remus’ taste is bleak. 

It’s another few minutes before an actress on-screen says a line, and Remus clears his throat awkwardly. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You and Sirius look at him with a mixture of befuddlement and alarm. 

“What?” He shifts in his seat. “I’m trying to fill a gap.” 

Sirius appears scandalized. “James’ jokes are far more advanced than that.” 

“He said ‘that’s what she said’ just last week.” 

“Yes, but in a completely different context!” 

“We could call him,” you point out. 

Remus’ expression creases longingly. “No, he’s been in meetings all day. I’m sure he’ll want to rest.” 

But Sirius clicks the speaker button on his phone, letting the dial tone play aloud. Remus looks almost relieved. 

James picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Hi,” you all say loudly, voices each trying to be heard over the others. 

“We need you to come home,” Sirius whines. 

“What?” James sounds closer to the speaker now, like he’s holding the phone tight to his face. “Is everything okay?” 

“Don’t say that,” Remus hisses at Sirius. “Everything’s fine, Jamie.” 

“We just miss you,” you clarify. 

“Oh.” The relief is obvious in your boyfriend’s voice, and you notice your other two boyfriends smiling fondly at the sound of it. You think your own expression probably looks just about as humiliatingly smitten. “Awe. I miss you guys, too. Like crazy, you have no idea.” 

“I think we have some.” Sirius raises a brow at the phone. “Rem just tried to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.” 

A sharp cough crackles through the speaker. “Did he? How did it go?” 

“Poorly.” 

“Ah, well.” You can practically feel the warmth of James’ smile from hundreds of miles away. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll work on it when I get back.” 

“I’d rather not do it again, actually,” Remus grumbles. 

“How was your day?” You lean on Sirius’ shoulder again, getting close to the phone like James is contained within it. 

“Boring,” he says emphatically. “I got told off by some old woman for tapping my pen on my pad too loudly while someone was giving a presentation. The hotel they’ve put us up in isn’t bad, though. Free breakfast in the morning to get us energized for another day or torment.” 

“Ooh, could you see if they have those little blueberry muffins?” Sirius asks. “And if they do, wrap me up a few to bring home with you.”

“Sirius,” Remus chides. 

“I’ll check,” James agrees easily. “Rem, do you want some chocolate ones if they have those?” 

If James could see the way your boyfriend flushes pink, he’d be grinning ear to ear. “Yes, please,” Remus replies. 

“Brilliant. And for you, lovie?” 

“I’ll just mooch off of Sirius’ blueberry ones.” You snicker when Sirius gasps, sneaking a hand around your waist to pinch at your middle. 

“Oh, perfect,” says James. “I’ll make sure to grab a few less, then, so you can really fight over them.”

“Prick,” Sirius accuses. 

“Love you, too. So, how was everyone else’s day?” 

You catch yourself smiling a second before seeing a similarly contented expression reflected on Sirius’ face. Remus moves from his armchair to the couch, and you all lean into the phone as you tell him. 

[n0vazsq]

Sweetest Pie | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x singer!reader

summary . . . Mclaren invites you to come watch the Miami Grand Prix with them after the release of your song. However, some fans notice you being there is more than just a guest appearance

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . dua lipa my beloved

alexavia yaps . . . on the smau grind gng woohoo!! did you spot the refrences i made?? i love love love love dua so ofc i had to do a smau with her!!! its kinda shitty and rushed but i wont be uploading ANYTHING until wed so thats why i kinda rushed it

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madisonbeer love you more

username29 WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

username30 DIED. DECEASED. GONE. ROTTING.

mclaren

liked by yourusername, lando, oscar_piastri and 6.8M others

mclaren surprise guest for the miami gp! welcome the famous singer y/n! Tagged: yourusername

click to view all comments

yourusername would've loved to be in orange but it isn't my colour </3

lando don't worry you look beautiful in everything

This reply has been deleted

mclaren don't worry y/n! you still looked beautiful!

username31 LANDO!?!??!?!

username32 SIR.

username33 okay so im not schizo and lando did comment hitting on y/n

username34 living the dream

username35 they better blast her song or im suing

username36 sigh i wish i was her

username37 another celebrity who doesn't know anything about f1

username38 they should just give these tickets to people who actually want them

username39 wasnt y/n a f1 fan since she was a kid???

username40 she was idk what these idiots are yapping about

username41 MOTHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

username42 woah

username43 can she like marry me idk

username44 can't wait for the race tomorrow ahhhhhhhh

username45 imagine if lando wins

username46 she's his good luck charm then

username47 sigh i want to be as pretty as her

username48 STUNNING.

username49 ate up everyone frrrr

username50 LANDO BAG HER UPPPP

username51 he better before we do

username52 frr omg

username53 the next it wag

username54 when i sleep i see her in my dreams

username55 y/n has 4 albums and 4 singles, lando's number is 4. hes winning the miami gp

username56 y/n dont forget us when you become the no.1 artist

username57 shes my kind of woman

username58 id let her hit me with lando's car

username59 i'd let lando hit me with y/n's car

username60 queen

(click on pics to view the full tweet !)

lando

liked by oscar_piastri, yourusername, mclaren and 8.2M others

lando my good luck charm

comments on this post have been closed

yourusername has posted two stories !

caption 1: HE DID IT!!!!! // caption 2: celebrating the golden boy

yourusername

liked by lando, oscar_piastri, lilyzneimer and 5.4M others

yourusername he called me his good luck charm and i wrote a song about him Tagged: lando

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username71 WHAT?!?!??!?!?!

username72 IT COUPLE

username73 ew

username74 like why him???

username75 ATEEEEE

username76 WTF IM IN LOVEEEE

username77 PARACOSICL REKARIJSHP

username78 MOMMY AND DADDY

username79 wtf

username80 i-

username81 MY SHAYLA

username82 my jaw dropped to the floor

username83 the twitter detectives KNEW

username84 frrrrrr

username85 if they ever decide to buy a pet im like right here

madisonbeer congrats to you two!

yourusername thank you!!

username86 who tf is this i came from landos insta

username87 idk but shes ugly

username88 i dont like her

username89 i dont know if i want y/n or lando to be with me

username90 screaming crying throwing up

username91 giggling blushing and kicking my feet

username92 i need a fanfic on this ASAP

username93 sTOP THEYRE SO CUTEEe

username94 y/n holding his trophy im on the FLOOR

username95 my parents

username96 no bc i feel like im intruding

username97 SHES GORGEOUS

username98 shes everything and hes just ken

username99 this fits PERFECTLY bc she acted in the barbie movie

username100 lando could do so much better ew

username101 my QUEEN

username102 ok so like when is the wedding

username103 i just know that carlos is squealing and giggling bc hes y/ns biggest fan fr

username104 madre e padre

username105 PRETTYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

username106 so like wheres lando's comment???

username107 hes saving a finale grand stopping act

username108 ROMEO AND JULIET

username109 i would be sobbing in TEARS if i heard y/n's voice in the radio

username110 NOW I NEED THAT TO HAPPEN STFU

lando i love you so much my beautiful girl

yourusername i love you more my stunning boy

lando thats impossible because i love you more than life

carlossainz55 he nearly cried when he saw you enter the mclaren hospitality

lando SHUT UP YOU MUPPET

yourusername you did??

lando you looked so gorgeous i couldn't help it

lando fuck you carlos

yourusername LANDO STOP ILYSMMM

lando I LOVE YOU MORE MY BELOVED GORGEOUS QUEEN

rebeccad_ why cant carlos be like this?

carlossainz55 ??

yourusername dont worry rebecca, ill save you

rebeccad_ my princess in shining armour

lando shes MY princess

yourusername love you lan

lando love you more

username111 straight out of a fucking romance novel

username112 if my bf isnt like him i do NOT want his ass

username113 if i was y/n you'd need an army to get me off lando

username114 if i was lando you'd need an army to get me off Y/N

username115 legit the most gorgeous couple

username116 BEST WAGGGGG

username117 oh i am itching for y/n grand prix apperances

username118 im calling it everytime she attens lando wins

username119 LANDO ONEWIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username120 the queen and her knight

lando

liked by oscar_piastri, yourusername, mclaren and 9M others

lando i might take you home with this, i might give you all of it, come get your dose of the sweetest pie. oh, this the ride of your life, hold on 'cause, baby, i might, i might just give you a bite of the sweetest pie Tagged: yourusername

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username130 sTOP

username131 im deceased

username132 HE USED HER LYRICS ABOUT HIM TO TALK ABoUT heR oH LANDO NORRIS THE MAN YOU ARE!??!??!?!!?

username133 how did he bag her wtf

username134 Y/N MY QUEEN

username135 the most gorgeous gyal

username136 if i was lando id die idk how id handle being blinded by her beauty everyday

username137 PLSSSS he really said 'fuck you' to the haters and posted them making out

username138 like did i get a subscription or....?

username139 ICONIC.

username140 its been 7 weeks & 3 days since i manifested them getting together

username141 if they break up i dont believe in love

username142 FACE CARD IS LETHAL

username143 ik their kids' genetics will be INSANE

username144 SOBBING i love them sm

username145 if glazing them every single second was a crime id be 89 feet under

username146 GOD HAS FAVOURITES !!!

username147 if she doesnt make a grand prix apperance im throwing hands

username148 counting down the days tilll we get them together in the paddock

username149 MY PRINCESS

username150 if i had to be an f1 driver to get with y/n i would started karting when i was 2

username151 the aura from them is insane

username152 welcome to my world

username153 get you a man who deletes hate comments for you

username154 where can i buy a lando

username155 or a y/n

username156 MODERN. DAY. ROMEO. AND. JULIET.

username157 they need to get married ASAP

yourusername i love you so so so so much

lando forever and always

yourusername until the end

lando my favourite singer

yourusername my favourite driver

lando who wrote my favourite ever song

yourusername who won my favourite ever race

lando who wrote it for me

yourusername who dedicated it to me

lando i love you more than anything in this entire universe my princess

yourusername i love you more than you'd ever know, pretty boy

lando forever

yourusername and always

username158 FUCKING FUCK OFF

username159 ok thats it im jumpiing off a cliff

username160 ive never seen something more romantic and its in a fucking instagram comment section

username161 im actually crying

username162 i love them so much i hope nothing ever happens to them

username163 my heart is paining i cant take this anymore

username164 you know the love is real when you dedicate your biggest achievements to each other

yourusername do you love sweetest pie?

lando i think i love it more than my win

yourusername maybe thats a bit excessive?

lando nothing is ever excessive with you

yourusername i love you

lando i love you too

username165 no i refuse bye i cant

username166 HES A SIMP BUT I FUCKING LOVE IT

username167 the a in lando starts for a lovesick fool for y/n

username168 THE WAY HE STARES AT HER>>>>>

username169 get you a man like lando

username170 hes setting the bar so high its on another altitude

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Eating Random Things

I love allllllllll the Billy eating random things as Marvel posts/headcanons. I don’t know why. I just love it. I love unhinged Marvel soooo much. But what if we took it one step further and had Marvel eat anything, including living creatures. Also, I’m gonna connect this to the Marvel being a Good Cook post. In that post, he’s just a good cook basically.

Flash: *passed out on the floor of the kitchen in a hypoglycemic coma*

Marvel: *walks into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks* “Wally?” *walks over and prods him with his shoe* “Are you dead?” *kneels down to sniff him* “Can I eat you?”

Flash: *groans*

Marvel: *stands up* “Oh, thank the gods.” *picks Wally up to take him to the medbay* “Come on, bud. Let’s see if we can fix you up.”

A little bit later…

Flash: *on a medical cot and wakes up*

Marvel: *nearby, doing a crossword puzzle*

Flash: *sees Marvel* “Cap?”

Marvel: “Yes?” *fills in one of the words on the puzzle*

Flash: “Did you… Did you ask if you could eat me?”

Marvel: “Nope.”

Flash: “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s just I swear I heard you say something like that.” *sits up, stomach rumbling*

Marvel: “You were pretty knocked out, man. I don’t remember saying that.” *puts crossword down* “Why don’t we get something to eat? Like chili dogs or burgers or something?”

Flash: “Sounds great.” *gets off the cot so they can head to the zetas*

He gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed. He’s also done this to multiple leaguers by the way. One of them was Batman who now has a recording of Billy asking if he could eat him. Bruce listened to it a solid ten times because in this AU, he knows next to nothing about Marvel, and now, because of this recording, he’s wondering if Marvel is, or was even human.

Then, there was the time him and Wonder Woman went together to wrangle some demons back into Tartarus. Unfortunately, one of the demons died during the process and didn’t make it back into the gates. So, now Diana and Billy were stuck with a demon corpse.

Diana: *looking at the corpse* “What should we do with it?”

Marvel: *also looking at the corpse* “Hmm… I have an idea.”

Diana: “Oh? Could you sha-” *now sees Marvel in his little lightning bolt apron and chef hat* “Why’re you dressed like that?”

Marvel: “I like to get into it.” *starts pulling salt, pepper, paprika, Goya Adobo, basically a bunch of seasonings out of his pocket dimension*

Diana: “Cap…? Cap. You can’t seriously be suggesting we eat the demon?”

Marvel: “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just politely telling you that it’s one, delicious, and two also delicious.” *conjures up a giant, demon-sized, floating frying pan from nowhere with a fire underneath it*

Diana: *watches as Marvel picks the demon up, puts it in the pan, and starts seasoning*

She does end up eating some of the demon later with Marvel. Though she swore she would “never do it again.” But, when she heard Marvel tell her of a demon that tastes like hard candy when you mix its body with a certain magical herb, she wouldn’t admit it, but she had second thoughts. Those second thoughts amped up when he told her they were really good to eat with ice cream.

Then, there was the time with Aquaman. He came over to Atlantis because he wanted to see Aquaman’s sea creatures. His school had a field trip to the aquarium and he not only did he not have an adult to sign the permission slip, he also didn’t have enough money to pay the fare. Thankfully, Billy’s Marvel form didn’t need to breathe so he could go underwater just fine. Meanwhile, Arthur was just happy to yap about the sea creatures to and listen intently and ask questions and all that. Unfortunately, some mermaids swam up and decided to ruin their fun. Now, you see, they were sort of fighting them in an underwater cave and all the fighting caused a piece of rubble to come loose and fall on one of the mermaids, killing her. This caused the rest of them to run.

Aquaman: “Alright, back to the tour.” *sees Marvel casually sawing off the mermaid’s tail* “What’re you doing, man?”

Marvel: “I’m gonna eat this later.” *holds the mermaid tail up, shaking it a little*

Aquaman: “Oh. Cool. Can I have some?”

Marvel: “Sure, I can make it when our tours done.” *puts the mermaid tail in his pocket dimension*

Aquaman: “Nice, I’ll bring some Atlantean mead.”

Later…

Marvel and Aquaman: *both munching on mermaid tail*

Aquaman: “This really good!” *grabs some mead to drink down his mouthful of fish*

Marvel: “Thanks.” *munches on fish* “You know, I was surprised you wanted to eat this.”

Aquaman: “Why?”

Marvel: “You can talk to fish right? So, if you were to go to an aquarium, wouldn’t you hear some fish screaming to be let out or something?”

Aquaman: “Geez, I haven’t been to an aquarium since I was a kid.” *sounding nostalgic* “But nah, they normally just chill.”

Marvel: “I haven’t been to one ever. And really? Huh.” *munches on fish more* “But I guess what I’m really asking is if you’re sensitive about eating fish or not.”

Aquaman: “Nah, not really. In this great big sea, what did you think the main source of protein was? Plus, this is mermaid, it’s only technically fish.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “So is that a no? You don’t care about eating fish?”

Aquaman: *nods head as he drinks more mead* “It’s a no.”

Marvel: “Sweet! Cause I have a bunch of fish recipes I wanna try out.”

About an hour after this, Marvel had to help Aquaman home since the Atlantean challenged him to a drinking contest, not knowing the Captain couldn’t get drunk. Mera had a brow raised at Billy judgmentally the entire time he explained why he came home with her husband black out drunk.

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Hyunjin*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut

A/N: I could yap about this man for so long I have strong feelings lol.

-💜

•Sweet.

•He’s just so fucking sweet.

•He wants nothing more than to spoil you with anything and everything that you want.

•You want your nails done? He got you.

•He’s there going through nails with you and giving you his opinion.

•You want some new clothes? Done.

•He’s taking you on a shopping spree, going to all your favorite stores and letting you pick some outfits for him as-well.

•He’s really like a sugar daddy half the time lol. He’s always telling you to use his card.

•He’s really romantic too, loves planning all kinds of date nights with you.

•One of his favorites is taking you to an arcade and or fairs.

•Will win you prizes and acts all cool.

•He’s going to be sending you good morning texts that are just so sweet.

•Never misses an opportunity to compliment you and tell you how much he loves you.

•Also has an array of nicknames like “Angel, Sunshine, Princess and his favorite wife”

•Daddy Hyunjin can definitely be a push over though.

•He gives you warnings after warnings.

•However when you just keep pushing him he’ll take talk to you in that almost dad like voice scolding you.

•He really doesn’t want to punish you but when he really has to he does it still in an almost loving way.

•He’ll bend you over your bed giving you almost soft spanks.

•He’ll definitely sit you down afterwards telling you he loves you he hates so much to do this but you have to listen.

•He just wants what’s best for you.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•Oh man he’s still so sweet but god does he- go a bit crazy.

•You’re just the love of his life and he just like losses himself almost every time.

•He loves loves shower sex, and morning sex.

•He’ll pull you to him body wrapped around you as he pushes into you.

•He’s whimpering, whining and growling all at once.

•He’ll have his arms or hands around your neck.

•And he’s a talker.

•”Fuck- you’re doing so good for me”

•”Taking me so well Princess”

•He can really lose control though gets really jealous when you’re out and pulls you to the bathroom and or car.

•Telling you how you’re his and only his and how no one will take you away from him.

•Can be really possessive but it’s out of love.

•Some of his favorite sayings are:

•”You’re so gorgeous, made for me Angel”

•”Daddy can’t help it you’re just- ugh so perfect”

•”One more Angel, one more I know you can do it for daddy right?”

•After care is a lot.

•Makes sure you’re alright, grabs your stuffies and everything to make you comfortable.

•Brings you a drink making sure you’re drinking it all.

•Would definitely warm you up some milk too.

•Rubs your body as he peppers it with kisses.

•He’ll tell you he loves you a millions times.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143