#update: collab fic finished!

[kleiner-detektiv]

I just love™ doing a collab event where I'm supposed to draw something for a fanfiction, but the writer won't share or write anything until the 3rd or 4th check-in at all.

If one doesn't have the time for it, they shouldn't participate.

Or at least they should communicate!

Artists have a schedule, too!

No writing, no art! We artists, too, need some time for a decent artwork and this is not my only project! Dx

[kellystar321]

.

[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

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 3

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: September 22nd, 2024)

OT13

seventeen as teachers @fairyhaos

seventeen as dads headcanons @bbyobbyo

Back to School with Seventeen (Seventeen TA Collab! Take a look at our Course Options collated by your favourite writers, taught by your favourite members!) @camandemstudios

Seventeen's reaction to you asking them for a baby @j0shuasw1fey

Tales from Camp Masterlist (Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.) @kwanisms

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ (A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time. ) @ncteez

Kim Mingyu

kmg x reader: healing comes in small doses masterlist (husband! dad! kim mingyu x afab! mom!reader) @tomodachiii

Food Wars pt. 1 (You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot) @beomcoups

Crossing the Finish Line (Winning is the only thing that matters, except if you're raising money for a charity event with an infuriatingly good-looking swimmer.) @mr-cha-n

Statistically Speaking... (TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise) @gyuswhore

Always // oneshot (Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.) @spamgyu

When I Kissed the Teacher (science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee) @highvern

Read All About It (Anonymous Life and Sex writer, Not Carrie Bradshaw, takes on a 30-day challenge with her boyfriend, Min. How wild fans would go to find out they're none other than Kim Mingyu and his girlfriend?) @highvern

Hot Wheels [M] (Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+) @milfgyu

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni) @wonustars

There's a snake in my pants (Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu]) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Cross My Heart (Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.) @minisugakoobies

Like A Cowboy Part 2 of 4 (Mingyu only needs to wake up with you once to decide he'll do whatever is necessary to do it every day; even if it means letting you help him outside and figuring out how to help you inside, it's worth it.) @sluttywoozi

Let our lips lock, baby (Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

I can do it for you (After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.) @hoshifighting

here and now. (secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship) @writingmeraki

Jeon Wonwoo

into the night | jeon wonwoo (when you call wonwoo late at night telling him you're stranded, he drops everything to make his way to you (and bring you home safe)) @etherealyoungk

CLOSER (f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwo) @hannieehaee

HER | part six (m). (wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.) @chocosvt (HOLY SHIT, THIS SERIES HAD ME CRYING. SNAPS TO THIS AMAZING WRITER!)

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 (though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.) @babyleostuff

knight in shining armor (non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader) @heartsfromia

endpoint (Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.) @highvern

heads up! stardew. they r gaming. @nonranghaes

Cookies and Cream (academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)) @seokgyuu

April Shower (Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.) @sluttywoozi

HEAVEN (wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.) @sanakiras

Patterns (Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?) @highvern

Daylight (between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.) @moonscriptsx

✦ sugar & spice (bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader) @etherealyoungk

Hong Jisoo

New in the Suburbs – New Neighboor! Joshua @hoshifighting

distracted (husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship) @eomayas

SUMMER KISSES (joshua coming home is a pleasant surprise) @arafilez

richhusband!joshua headcannons (just some headcons, but i'm obsessed with them) @number1mingyustan

still the one (5 years after your break up, Joshua tries his best to get your attention. May it be creating a new instagram to get you to notice him, making your brother (Seungkwan) secretly invite him to his birthday party, and his latest act: begging you on his knees in front of your door to get him back. He just never gives up!) @bratzkoo

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing] (rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits) @hannieween

best friend’s brother (This had me crying ugly tears. its my fav) (imestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.) @chocosvt

not according to plan | hjs (fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut) @the-boy-meets-evil

Expiration Date (2/2) (artist!joshua x model!fem!reader) @number1mingyustan

Birds of a Feather ( joshua hong x f reader) @onlymingyus

Timestamp! Aquamarine Au! @mysafehaneul

on second thought (where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?) @the-boy-meets-evil

Yoon Jeonghan

BITE (idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, afab reader, small age gap implied, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is mentioned to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.) @hannieehaee

building blocks | yjh (agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.) @the-boy-meets-evil (OBSESSED WITH THESE TA SERIES)

"lovie" (all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname) @cherryredcheol

Titty-Shirt! (18+) (pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader) @beefboyandbabygirl

love café (while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not) @chocosvt

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan (how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages) @p0ckykiss

Xu Minghao

Meet Me In Amsterdam (Artist!Minghao x Artist!Fem!Reader) @okiedokrie

GOODNIGHT N GO (idol!minghao x hybeidol!reader) @hannieehaee

To all the love letters I wrote but never sent (fluff, best friends to lovers) @welcometomyoasis

Birthday Gift l Xu Minghao (It's your birthday and Minghao wants to give you your present!) @jenoslutie

Lee Seokmin

through a different lens — l.sm (meet cute, strangers to something) @miniseokminnies

after dessert (just pure smut lol, but it was good XD) @xurengu0

behind the stands (Seokmin, Gryffindor's star chaser, is widely known as your rival. What everyone doesn't know is that before every game, his lips are always on yours.) @xurengu0

Beautiful Liar (mafia au, dark romance? angst, smut.) @starlightx

Epistolary Yearning (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut) @himbocoups

Nice Guys Finish First (After a first date with the sweetest man you've ever met, thanks to a mutual friend, you're more than willing to silence his doubts and show him how sexy he was to you.) @celestiababie

midnight rain | lsm (after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way.) @wongyuuu

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

New fic: take what the water gave me

I am finally finished my Mer!Buck/Trans!Eddie fic that I collabed with @timeshareindestin on!

Summary:

New transfer to the 118, Eddie Diaz, has a secret. And upon getting to know his coworker, Buck, who is also hiding something, he begins to suspect their secret is the same. He's wrong.

Snippet:

“So you must be a fish,” Eddie says when they’re drying off beside the fire engine. 

Buck looks at him with wide, startled eyes. “What?” 

“You know… Because you held your breath that long,” Eddie says, anxious that he’s somehow said something wrong. “Or maybe an opera singer?”

Buck exhales a little.

“Uh, neither. No. Uh… Just a party trick.”

“Oh, you’re all the rage at pool parties, okay,” Eddie chuckles, relieved he hasn’t offended Buck.

“Nah,” Buck waves him off. “I’m actually… Well… Not anymore. Not a big pool party guy.”

A weird thing to say then.

“Yeah, Eddie shrugs. “Me neither.”

---

Tagging:

@epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @goldenbcnes

@diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck

@lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto @buckleybabyblues

@buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @mage8 @theautumnbard @lightningmcqueer8

@kultiras @inell @mrs-f-darcy @spencers1nonlygf @nibblyssacrifice

@thetommoway-oioii @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @swiftiefirefighters

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added to my writing updates tags :)

[yoonia]

— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 

I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡

2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.

Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 

OVERALL FIC STATS 2024

Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets

Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series

Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)

Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 

FIRST FIC OF 2024

❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes

My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes

My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol

My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.

LAST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes

My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 

Honorable mention: 

❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes

My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.

PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024

❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes

My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.

Honorable mention: 

❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)

My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 

2024 SPECIAL EVENT

❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash

My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 

Fave reads of 2024

I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed

The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo

Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan

The Athlete by @beomcoups

A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien

Dandelion by @shina913

The Wood by @sailoryooons

Minted by @kithtaehyung

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil

On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon

Top Ten Tracks of 2024

Loved — B.I

People — Agust D

Make You Mine — Black Violet

Gemini — Cheyenne 

Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass

HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope

Love — Lana Del Rey 

Reasons — COTIS 

Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 

Die First — Nessa Barrett  

GOALS FOR 2025

Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 

Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 

Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series

Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them

Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream

Read more. Both published books and released fics

Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 

Start job hunting again

I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae

And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Vavooming and sorting since sep. 2023

~ Spicy, fluffy and angsty Good Omens fanart and comics ~

🔹Art | Comics | NSFW🔹

🔹Patreon | Ao3 | Linktree | Brushpack🔹

vv WIPs and finished projects under the cut vv

Current Projects

Purrchance To Dream

Crowley is fine. Really, he's FINE. Tickety-boo. He can manage on his own. He certainly doesn’t need a pet. What kind of demon has a pet, anyway? - Comic, co-written by Calico and me

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Early Access Updates on Patreon | #Purrchance to dream | Ao3

ASTROBLEME

🔹Post S2 collab comic with Danee Castle🔹

#astroblemecomic - read full on the Astrobleme Website

Ineffable Cowboys

🔹Concepts for a Cowboy Minisode🔹

#ineffable Cowboys - future collab fic planned!

--- Finished Projects ---

Temporal Adjustment

🔹Pwp fic collab with ukcalico🔹

Read on Ao3

Cranking up the heat

🔹Hot Ones, but with daily p*rn.🔹

#cranking up the heat - View on Ao3

Sweet Dreams

🔹Spicy Comic with a hint of Angst🔹

#vavoom sweet dreams - View full comic on Patreon

Companion fic by sixbynine-da

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

Sleight Of Hand

🔹spicy 1941 collab fic/comic with moonyinpisces 🔹

#sleight of hand - read here on Ao3

uncensored version on Patreon

Reddit Smut War

🔹spicy art battle on r/goodomensafterdark 🔹

#ineffable smut war - all smut war content

#vavoom smut war - my own smut war art

Of Kings And Kids

🔹a good omens christmas story - collab with gaiayeyes🔹

#of kings and kids - read on Ao3

Angst War

🔹 angsty art battle on r/goodomensafterdark🔹

#ineffable angst war - all angst war content

Praying - my Angst War project:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Full Comic

Animatic by @/nosferatini!

[cheriecoke]

Can you drop some long series recs (any fandom!)?! I haven't had any come across my dash >.< Would love to read some!

omg of course!! I HAVE SO SO MANY RECS! a lot of the ones i've seen recently are ongoing, but i hope you give them a go & keep watching for updates <3 i have read quite a variety, so hopefully there's something for you tehe. some of them i haven't read yet, but have been on my list bc i enjoy their other works :) so i recommend them to since i know the writers are amazing!!

to have and to hold by @fedyenkas (chuuya, ongoing) - i just started this one today & it's so so amazing so far !! chuuyas characterization in it is sooo yummy. i haven't read a hybrid series before, so it's super unique to see how that fits into the bsd universe.

noble blood by @forest-hashira (satoru & suguru, ongoing) - i haven't read this one yet, but both of fallon's entries for my collab were incredible, so i can only imagine this is too! plus, the premise is SO insane, it's about dragon riders, and there's an entire sheet with all lore that they've created !! i can see how much love and care was put into this one, so i can't wait to check it out !!

oh, baby! by @tetsuskei (kuroo, ongoing) - i have yet to read the first part (everyone throw tomatoes at me) but risu posted some parts on her old blog & i read it there! it's so so sweet!! i looove all her writing, and dad!kuroo is just the cutest thing EVER.

waterloo by @fyorina (dazai, ongoing) - i haven't read this one yet either but i am SO SO incredibly excited to get to it. this one is going to be long, so it might be what you're looking for !! the first two parts are out already, and there's a posting schedule if you want to know when they're coming out :)

bulletproof love by @staryukis (gojo, ongoing) - i've really enjoyed this one so far and logan's writing is so captivating <3 it feels just like missing scenes from in between the canon jjk storyline. logan also has a mini zombie apocalypse series i've been excited to read after reading the other series !! it's dying (for your love).

regrets by @/kingkonoha (levi, complete) is so good !! i still need to finish it, but the concept is super cool & the reader is the antagonist so it's a really interesting spin on levi's actions in the canon universe.

tidal temptations by @fyodorloveclub (fyodor, ongoing) - i have also yet to read this one (cries myself to sleep my tbr is never ending), but everything flora writes is incredible, so i have no doubt this one is too. it's a merman fyodor fic, which is such a cool concept i'm so excited to see where it goes !!!

hell within reach by @/ddarker-dreams (chrollo, complete) - omg. ok i read this one like 2 years ago LOL, but it's finished and its about 80k long, and it's so good <3 i used to be an insane chrollo girlie & this is one of my favorite fics about him.

lover's delight by @lovelyluc (diluc, ongoing) - i don't even play genshin or know anything about it HSHFSDFH but this one is so sweet <3 you can really see how much awea loves diluc in this series, which is my favorite thing about reading fics, and it has so many of my favorite tropes !!

geheinisse by @honeybleed (jean & reiner, ongoing) - only the first part of this is out but it's SO INCREDIBLE. there's so much drama already, and nara does such a great job of setting the scene while getting you hooked immediately. nara also has a two part reiner fic (the first part is decades) that's completed and over 10k words that i'll never forget! her characterization of reiner is so yummy.

if it wasn't for him (would you have me) by @gojoath (yuuta, ongoing) - cella's the ceo of yandere yuuta, so if you're into him, i can't think of anyone else to recommend !!! cella wrote another yuuta series that i think is completed, so there are lots of amazing things to read on her blog <3

@osaemu has a streamer!gojo series that are all in the same universe & connect! they're so funny & everything sabs writes is amazing, so i encourage you to check out her work if you haven't

the lakehouse by @tetzoro (kuroo, ongoing) - rahhh i'm the worst bc i still haven't read this but aims is one of my favorite writers on here, so trust me it's amazing. this was written for october, so if you're missing autumn rn def read this one! aims also has another kuroo series coming soon <3

i know i left some people out, so if you're ever in need of any other recs, pls lmk tehe. and if you're a mootie of mine but have a series i didn't include, send it my way <3 but hopefully all these amazing ones will get you started!

[flowerparrish]

Podfic Stats - 2024 Edition!

I chose to track this year by when I posted (or in a few cases, privately shared or submitted a finished pod to a person or challenges). This means that some things that go into this year's total were technically done prior to 2024, but not many! This also means that some things that are done but unposted will not count toward this year (but again, not many!) Also, because I tracked by when podfics were posted rather than finished (the most reliable way for me to track; I am very bad at updating constantly when I finish something, but I can easily go thru to check when stuff was posted & update), this caused the big event months (December, August, May) to be weighted more strongly, but everything made for those events was within this year, so idk, I still think it's fun and cool.

OVERALL

I posted 481 podfics or podfic updates over the course of 2024!

Across all of that, I posted (or in a few cases, privately shared) over 141 hours of podfic!

I took part in ~30 multivoices (I lost track at some point lol)

Most Productive Months

December - 26h 4m 55s

May - 15h 27m 30s

August - 15h 26m 34s

April - 13h 2m 18s

October - 12h 33m 42s

Pods I Posted 2+ Hrs of in 2024

Trade Your Heart for Bones to Know (fic by blackkat) - all 23 chapters podded in 2024, caught up to current point in fic! Current length: 9h 46 mns

Cura Te Ipusm (by bioluminescent, writethroughtheknight) - 14 chs posted in 2024, current length: 3h 32 mns

Lightning in a Bottle (by DisillusionedDanny) - complete multi-ch fic posted for ITPE, 21 chs, 4h 11mns

singing in the dead of night (by dukeaubergine) - complete multi-ch fic posted for ITPE, 9 chs, 2h 48mns

Entrusted with This (by wanderingjedihistorian) - complete multi-ch fic posted for @kbirbpods' birthday, 10 chs, 2h 48mns

Begin Again (by niobium) - all 4 chs posted, 2h 22 mns

Stronger for the Breaking - posted for @seascribbling's birthday, 2h 16mns

[Podfics] Lost and Found (series) by SpaceWall - all posted together for Summer Podfic Swap, 5 works, 5h 25mns total

WIPs finished in 2024

Do Every Stupid Thing (by thepartyresonsible) - 26 chs, 11h 11mns

A Meditation on Railroading (by eggmacguffin) - 5 chs, 2h 37mns

Brave Face, Hide the Truth (by kbirb) - 14 chs, 3h 44mns

I walked with you (once upon a dream) - 6 chs, 1h 32 mns

Top Fandoms (by number of pods or ch updates to pods)

Star Wars, with 241 things posted

Danny Phantom x DC, with 53 things posted

DC, with 44 things posted

DC/Marvel Crossovers, with 33 things posted

Marvel, with 24 things posted

aaand for some variety, All for the Game, with 17 things posted!

Authors I podded the most:

@blackkatmagic, with 54 entries across solo pods & wip updates

@wanderingjedihistorian, with 41 entries across solo pods and updates!

@kbirbpods, with 19 pods!

myself, with 19 pods!

@sishal01, with 14 pods!

bioluminescent & writethroughthenight collab, with 14 updates to Cura Te Ipsum's podfic!

@bittercape, with 9 pods!

Music I Used the Most:

Goo Goo Dolls, used 23 times in chapter updates for "trade your heart for bones to know"

Jason Walker, used 15 times, most of which were chapter updates for "cura te ipsum"

general Star Wars OST music, used approx 14 times!

Taylor Swift, used 12 times

Bastille, used 11 times

Hozier, used 10 times

Banners, used 9 times

Crowander (artist found on Free Music Archive), Dodie, and AJR, all used 8 times

ATLA intro/theme, used 7 times

Florene + the Machine, used 6 times

Ratings I Podded Most:

T - 245

G - 160

E - 53

M - 16

NR - 5

*Note that many of the "E" entries are for longer WIPs and so the entries themselves weren't explicit

Most Podded Fandoms by Audio Length:

Star Wars - over 72 hours

DPxDC - over 32.5 hours

DC - over 11.5 hours

AFTG - over 7.5 hours

Marvel/DC - over 7.5 hours

Marvel - over 6.5 hours

LOTR/The Hobbit - almost 3 hours

Merlin - 2.5 hours

Star Trek - just over 2 hours

Stranger Things - just under 2 hours

According to Ao3, my most common ships per amount of works posted/updated in 2024:

Cody/Obi-Wan (Star Wars) - 25 works

Tim Drake & Jason Todd (DC) - 16 works

Fox/Bail Organa/Breha Organa (Star Wars) - 12 works

Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (DPxDC) - 10 works

Waxer/Boil (Star Wars) - 10 works

People I Solo Gifted the Most Pods to:

@kbirbpods, who was my giftee in BOTH Summer Podfic Swap and ITPE, and is also my best friend who I pod for a lot anyway

@sishal01, who I have really adored becoming so close with this year!! Sometimes, people just get you, y'know?

@wanderingjedihistorian, who is one of my most beloved friends to make podfic for

@seascribbling, who is my wife lmao

@bittercape, who was my recipient in the Marvel/DC 48 Hour Exchange and I went a little over the top lmao. I am so sorry bits, but I am also so glad you enjoyed your pods!

FINAL THOUGHTS

This was a weird year, because I got top surgery, moved countries, and have been unemployed for the last few months. But also I made so much content and had so much fun with it and I'm blown away and proud of that? Like, seriously, how many people outside of like people who make audio for their jobs can say they created almost 6 days worth of finished audio in a year??

I think this year I also let myself just follow my heart and go nuts a lot, and it definitely paid off. I'm not sure what goals I have for next year except try to finish some WIPs, try to continue avoiding things like Big Bangs that stress me out, try to continue doing things like Voiceteam and Podfic Exchanges that excite me, and otherwise just... have fun with it?

[mr-walkingrainbow]

Hey Anxienn fans!!!! I gotta lil treat for you!!!!

SO! Remember how I mentioned I was writing some Anxiety x Ennui fics?

well one of them is done!!!!

I have the wonderful honor to be doing a collab with the one and only @hootbon ! Their going to be lending some wonderful art skills while I provide the fanfic!!!

Currently the fanfic is finished!!!! However me and Hooty are still ironing out some of the details! So it will be a little bit before it’s published, BUT! I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging with nothing, so here I offer you a humble little sneak peak of, ABC’s it’s easy as a Une, Deux, Trois?

(also ps. I’m still working on the Jealous! Ennui fic, but that one’s not a collab so as soon as I’m done with it I can post!!!!)

Sneak peek below!

Ennui shrugged, looking away. She knew what Anxiety was talking about. 

For the past few months, Anxiety had been pestering her to let her teach her how to read and write in English. 

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that she didn’t know how. She was French after all. But the other emotions just sorta assumed she knew, since she spoke the language. 

Embarrassment and Envy knew of her little secret. They had all grown close together in the waiting rooms for years on end. And they never needed to learn how to read and write English down there. Ennui had her phone, which translated everything she could want. And nothing ever depended on her comprehension. 

However, they finally made it to headquarters. Riley’s mind making room for new emotions and feelings. 

With all of the commotion and adjustment, Ennui’s lack of knowledge was forgotten. 

Until one fateful day where she was manning the console alone. A history class with a teach with voice more monotone then her own. 

She had been frozen. Unsure on what to do. Her translator app on her phone wasn’t working. And Riley had been tasked with doing a history packet. A packet full of words Ennui would not understand nor interpret. 

She had no idea on whether an emotion was needed or not. And she must have stood there for twenty minutes, useless to help. Which normally she’d be happy with. Able to goof off and lounge around. 

But Riley was directly relying on her. She may relish being lazy, but never at the expense of their girl. 

She was stuck, pride stopping her from asking for help. Which again, is ironic considering normally she’d do anything to get out of doing more work. 

But this? This was different. This was a lack of knowledge everyone else knew. It made her feel…. Lesser. 

Thankfully Anxiety had walked across. Casually joining her. Ennui’s face had burned, too ashamed to explain why she was just standing there. 

Anxiety looked on, back and forth between the screen and her girlfriend. Realization finally hitting her in a silent ‘O’. 

She didn’t say anything else. Just casually read what was on screen. Translating without calling her out. 

Ennui had never been more grateful. And definitely made it up to her later, in a more private way, if you catch her drift. 

And there you go!!! I hope you liked the sneak peek and stay tuned for further updates!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[nosferatini]

AO3 Ask Game

Thanks to @addledmongoose for the tag and @cheeseplants for the game!

What fandoms do you write in?

Good Omens. Although I have some Good Omens crossovers with other fandoms. One of my works was a multiverse one-shot with characters from GO, Doctor Who, OFMD, Buffy and Batman.

How many words have you published in 2024?

According to AO3 (which I just learned does statistics by year? lol) I published 435,127 words.

What is your greatest achievement this year?

Well...

I could either talk about fics or podfics here. But if I'm going with fic I'll talk about how far I've come with The Season of Nightingales, my main longfic, which has only two chapters to go.

But I've made some major strides with voice acting and making podfics for some of the wonderful folks in the Good Omens fandom, and I think that's more of an "achievement" than simply something I'm proud of, like progressing my longfic :) I'm especially proud of finishing both my Factory Settings Podfic and Someone is Calling Him Shorewards earlier this year.

What are your top three fics you’ve written this year?

The Season of Nightingales (Good Omens Post S2 Plot-with-Fluff Fix-it, currently at 168k with two weekly chapter updates to wrap it up)

Reversed Veil of Worlds - A Little History (Good Omens Angst, 2/5 chapters published based on @daneecastle's Reversed Veil of Worlds comic series, which if you haven't read you should totally go check out! [Starts HERE!])

Unhallowed Providence (Reverse Omens Gothic AU based on @theonevoice's GORGEOUS demon Aziraphale and angel Crowley art—I've published one chapter and have the story pretty well plotted for the rest, just need to finish Season of Nightingales first!)

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

There was no one moment... not related to writing or Podficcing. Just the slow and steady realization that I was booking myself for too much stuff and in no way have time to keep up with it all lol.

What have you learned?

....I have a really bad case of FOMO.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I have a little side fic started about Crowley saving the runaway unicorn, and a Coney Island (excuse the period typical term "freakshow") human AU that I have a plot for and no time to write, especially not now that I've signed up for two wonderful artist collabs that are going to be my priority once I finish Nightingales.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

Yes! I've beta'd for @dbacklot99, @wingsofopal, and more short one-off projects for various GOAD Writers Guild writers than I could remember at gunpoint lol.

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

If I have to pick three, I'll name the longfics, because there's no possible way I could choose between them and all the incredible one shots and short series that I've read this year. I would recommend anything that I've podficced (which is the vast majority of my AO3 Profile right now) but I'll shout out these three longies in particular:

Someone is Calling Him Shorewards by @harlotofupdog (podfic)

2. A Little Life by @gaiaseyes451 (beware the angst tags... but damn it's good)

3. Friday I'm in Love by NooRose93 (podfic - wip)

What ideas are percolating for next year?

Fics in my queue:

I gotta finish Unhallowed Providence and A Little History first. Someday maybe I'll get to the Coney Island AU...

Podfics in my queue:

Stuck on You by @zin-lynn-c

Mon Horrible Chéri by @mrghostrat

And the Podfic for The Season of Nightingales

there might be a chance of me looking into doing Or Be Nice and maybe a couple of others that I was recced and haven't read yet, but I haven't actually asked the author(s) so don't quote me on that lol.

Who do you want to thank?

@paperclipninja for the absolute knockout musical compositions she has created for some of my podfics!

My beta readers: @addledmongoose, @dbacklot99, @wingsofopal @demonsandpieohmy and NooRose93 (aka blackjeans93)!

My beta listeners: @theonewiththeshippinggoogles and @firstvisittoearth @wingsofopal and others from the various chats who have added their comments after listening!

@daneecastle and the @theonevoice for inspiring me with their comic and/or art and for being wonderful friends to collaborate with!

@elenthyaolyenths for making me pretty logos!

@outrageousring5655 for making prolific podfics so I can absorb more fanfiction than I ever could on my own!

All of my amazing friends from the @goodomensafterdark Writers Guild and @whickberstreetwriters

All of the people who have taken the time to leave lovely, encouraging comments on my fics and podfics. I keep the best comments in my inbox even after replying, because some of the things you've said have warmed my heart, inspired me, or are just generally something to treasure.

A fond, no pressure tag to @gaiaseyes451, @wingsofopal @lemon-tart-221, @adverbian @paperclipninja and @dbacklot99 if you would like to play :)

[cepalliumtm]

Glow in the Ocean 0

CW for entire fic: yandere tendencies, thalassophobia (fic takes place underwater), claustrophobia (fic takes place in a submarine), cannibalism, blood, obsessive tendencies, no use of y/n

Other info: fic is mostly written in diary style/script style, with bits of prose in between.

This will be an interesting experiment. I’ve been thinking about CC posting more longform shtuff here since I don’t know what else to post here. If anyone likes more of this, I’d be happy to post more of it.

This in particular will be the expanded version of a oneshot that I did for a collab on Quotev. Check it out, you’ll probably find some other creators that you’ll enjoy! Unfortunately I haven’t had all the parts done, so updates will be pretty slow. Hopefully I’ll be finished with it sooner than later but don’t expect much from me.

Prologue

Monday, 3:20p.m.

Dear Diary,

Despite being an official employee at Miralabs, I sure as hell don't feel like one.

How long has it been now? I'm still pretty green, and it still feels like I have yet to adjust to some of the employees. Yes, Boss is still a bitch, and once again I got blamed for something I didn't do (it's not my fault Clumsy accidentally spilled some of the samples RIGHT as I'm going by).

Why am I worried about this on my break? I don't know. I guess hiding in the storage room really helps with clearing my head. Sad how it happens.

I think I'll be fine, if I just breathe and take it in.

Oh, right, today the list will finally be announced! Just to recap: Every now and again there are team assignments that get to visit the underwater labs for their more… secretive experiments. Now most of the time the same people get announced due to experience and honestly I'm not really expecting much. However, during the last meeting Boss said that if we were lucky enough, we could get the chance to shadow one of the less classified projects to get a bit of experience under our belt.

Now, whether or not I'll be picked is a different story… again, Boss is still a bitch. I swear to god she has some kind of vendetta against me or something, I didn't even DO anything to her. It's not my fault she has a stick up her bu-

…

Okay, Imma go now. I'll be back. Standby.

-.-

Putting away your little notebook back into your bag, you stand outside in embarrassment after getting caught by one of the janitors. They stare at you, possibly with confusion and definitely with disappointment. You bow your head, squeaking an "I'm sorry!" before scattering back to your workstation. You're hoping that no one would take notice of your little stunt, or that he wouldn't say anything to your managers.

If you're being honest with yourself, you're starting to regret your life choices. You know that you're supposed to act more professional, but sometimes it feels like you're just going through the motions. The point of this job is to get a handle of lab work, form connections, get better projects, something about making the system work for you or whatnot. But well, so far within these past few months, it feels like no progress has been made. So far the only thing you've seemed to accomplish is giving your boss another reason to scrutinize you. (Thank goodness it wasn't on grounds to fire you; you'd be devastated and out of work for a long time.)

It's not all that bad. Despite the running around and menial tasks; message taking and cleaning up equipment, you still find some value in it. It's not a lot, but you've managed to talk to some of the researchers about their projects and get insight on their thought processes. It's something you take with you everywhere you go. It's why you have that little notebook with you in the first place.

As you head to your next station, you overhear some of the other people talking about the list. Right. The list that's supposed to go out tonight, after the end of today's work meeting. It's something you're mildly curious about, considering that only a handful of people get selected at all. Albeit you're heavily aware of the last attempt a trip to one of these underwater labs ended up online as a tragedy. You can still remember the headline in your head.

So, it's surprising that after just a couple of months they would try again. But you understand why. There are some staff that stay behind inside those labs; maintaining the facilities, focusing on their research. There's bound to have a shortage in supplies soon, so someone would have to go down there and deliver.

But now, after a couple of months of supply only trips with no casualties, Miralabs decided that it would be safe for an expanded crew as well as a research team to once again take one week excursions to their underwater lab. And most of the newcomers are definitely excited to take a part in one of them. Most, including you.

Now is it likely you'll actually be picked? With how you've been treated and how your supervisor thinks of you? Not a chance. But either way, it’s the one thing that you're looking forward to by the end of the day.

"Hey Greenie!"

That and actually ending your day.

-.-

6:02p.m.

Speaker: Okay, everyone settle down! We're going to be starting this meeting quickly. I know that you're all tired, but this is important if you want to end the day as soon as possible. So, let's begin, shall we?

Now first things first, some things that we all have to take note:

…

I know that I should be paying attention to whatever announcements are going on, but honestly it's really just a couple of housekeeping things that I'm used to. You know, making sure the labs are clean and that we're actually working. I don't think they'll be picking on us yet, but you never know.

Boss: If I may speak on the issue please?

And… here we go.

Honestly I can see her eyeing me as she gives out her stupid speech. What's her problem with me, seriously? If she could just get off my back, maybe she could sleep better at night or something. Listen, I'm not the one slacking off here… if she could just look at herself in the mirror then I would have more respect for her. But you know how it is.

It's so obvious she's calling me out. She's literally coughing for my attention. I'm not gonna hear the end of it when we're left alone.

After that most of meeting was pretty banal. I could tell that some of the others are checking out as much as I am, some are even dozing off as we speak. There are a couple of new projects here and there, and they're pretty interesting if you're into, you know, studying plant biology for the millionth time, or playing with chemicals for the billionth time. Obviously I know why only the boring projects get introduced in the general meeting and the cooler stuff is just codenames for something else, but I mean, it's not like I'm going to get assigned to any of them yet.

Speaking of, it makes no sense that I'm technically a lab assistant but I feel like I'm just a glorified coffee maker. Makes no sense, huh? You'd think a dignified institution that also has a lot of well… biology projects would mean that you shouldn't introduce the chance of unexpected variables like coffee spills, but I guess that's what happens when you forget about the non-lab people that walk around.

Oh! We're finally on to the topic of the day.

Speaker: And last but not least… we have one final announcement. I know that you all are excited about the reopening of the underwater lab off the coast of the city. Now, it has come to my attention from last meeting about the worry of any… incident that could happen on the way there. However, I assure you that after a couple of tests here and there, that we have worked out the kinks and that it's perfectly safe to go.

[Whispers louden among the crowd.]

Speaker: (clears throat). Settle down, settle down! Okay, so as it stands, I will call out the names that will be a part of the new research team. Since Aeviin is the one that submitted the research topic and chose the team, he will be the one in charge. Now, here are the names he has chosen for this project…

Ah, here we go. There is no way in hell that-

…

…

…

I think I just heard my name.

…

…

Speaker: If your name has been called, please stand up!

[The chosen stand up, albeit a bit slowly.]

Speaker: Now, a round of applause for our underwater research team!

[Someone starts clapping slowly, followed by several others that begin to morph into a tremendous applause, for well, a group of around forty people]

Speaker: For those that are still standing, I will be sending you an email regarding your tasks and equipment that you will need. Since this excursion will last a week, I suggest you pack accordingly. Thank you very much, and I hope to see you all at launch! And that concludes this month's meeting! Thank you all for attending.

-.-

9:03p.m.

Subj: Acceptance

Congratulations! You've been selected for our underwater program! You and a select group of candidates have been chosen to monitor our underwater site for one week.

As a reminder, your responsibility as a Recorder and Data Analyst is as follows:

Collect observations, records, and other data from various sources for analysis

Conduct data analysis to identify patterns, anomalies, etc.

Interpret data and make predictions

The Employee Rules and Guidelines for the main site will also apply here, so do your best to work as if it's another day on your site. You will be responsible for turning in your reports at the end of the week when you return. Failure to do so will result in consequences, including but not limited to termination.

Make sure to prepare for what is needed for a one week trip. We advise to bring extra clothing. If you have any other questions, feel free to contact your supervisor for further information.

Thank you! The Sub-Miracle Team

-.-

Wednesday, 3:00p.m.

Dear Diary,

I honestly can't believe that I was actually chosen for this assignment. Tbh I didn't expect my bitchy boss to bring up my name for the list of recommendations. I mean, yeah I kinda have a lame job (I wish I was doing the more TECHNICAL stuff, but I guess that's what happens when you don't pay much attention to the lab classes at school) but it's still amazing that I get to go to one of the offshore sites this early in the game.

I talked to one of my coworkers about it and he said that not a lot of people (at least on our site) actually gets access to go there. Since we're the more surface level stuff I guess it means our projects tend to be the more boring ones, but I mean I'm not really complaining much about it (I just wish I didn't feel like I have eyes hovering over me whenever I record my data)

Honestly though I think I really got the job because I'm the only one that actually gets the reports in on time. Who knows though.

I don't even know if I want to go now that I got some time to think about about it. I know, I packed all my things and all, but it's pretty nerve-wracking to say the least. I mean, I'm going on board on a Mirasub. A Mirasub! What people would say is one of the sturdiest vehicles in the world (which is funny to say, considering that no one would really say that about a SUBMARINE of all things). Not to mention, somehow I got picked to be a part of Aeviin Typhoon's team. Which, I may not know a lot about, but what I DO know that he is a big deal in the company AND the biology world.

Really feeling a little nervous, because I'm pretty sure I KNOW who's coming with me. Like, since this is kind of a prestigious thing because it's not just Mr. Typhoon that'll be there, the other people are practically the big hotshots of the company. And I have a chance to actually WORK with them?

Just… don't mess up. The biggest thing is to NOT mess up. Make sure everything is all in place, and make sure you actually do your reports without procrastinating and making up data on the spot (did I really just say that I swear I don't do that all the time). I think I can handle it. Maybe. I don't know. I'm not even sure that I'm ready for this-

Okay, it looks like my roommate caught me up again. They have a good point. Fine, I'll get some sleep. I just feel a bit worked up and a bit worried.

I did look up the article once again, and ngl I think I'm creeping myself out about something that they said would never happen. It's not gonna do me any good to keep that in my head. Look, I'll be fine. I'll be fine.

I'll be fine… right?

-.-

Breaking news! Miralabs Finally Opens up Underwater Lab after Last Year's Tragedy

An unexpected turn of events after what could be considered one of the most mysterious tragedies that have happened over the past decade of underwater exploration, Miralabs have officially confirmed their reopening up of their offshore underwater lab happening this week on Friday.

We have talked to both the CEO as well as the main researcher, Aeviin Typhoon for their take on this endeavor to reassure the public that this would be a perfectly safe venture.

"We're still trying to recover from last year's unfortunate events," remarks the CEO. "It was tragic what happened to Laeva and I wish her family well for this news. However, we must move beyond this tragedy, and the fear of the unknown. For that will hinder us from truly advancing in this society."

Typhoon adds in, "I want to be a part of something special. This has been a dream come true for me, to finally be one of the greats that ventured into the unknown and discovered something new. And nothing will stop me from achieving that greatness. I believe that my research will be something revolutionary, and if it means that I have to leave the safety of my own home and down into the deep sea, I will nobly pursue it."

Aeviin Typhoon has been a part of many projects that some may have heard of before, such as the discovery of new life that has never been considered even possible. Mythical beings that are now in our aquariums for the public to view. Creatures that have properties that could help in curing ailments in diseases, chemicals that can fight certain alien bacteria, and the like. You can find out more on the website Miralabs.com/aeviin-typhoon for more.

[landofchaosandbloom]

2024 fic roundup

these are all the fics i posted/updated in 2024! all davekat lol. thanks to everyone who left comments on these this year <3

i did the maths and i posted about 56k of fic this year and ive also got another 120k in wips and deleted scenes and unfinished shit that ill probably never post but it was good writing practice lol. i am four fics away from having 69 posted on this account manifesting i can reach that next year

links are under the read more!

lol pick up your stuff on time and nobody needs to touch it dude

laundry room AU I wrote for @chthonicarcher's birthday

chapters 12-20 of Pure Effervescent Enrichment

a.k.a. my dovekat Tumblr AU i miss writing this one tbh it was my favorite lol

chapter 4 of In Which a Red-Eyed Idiot Is Saved From Meeting His Watery Demise

a.k.a. "sharkarkat"/merkat AU lol this was my yearly update on karkats wriggling day. maybe i will finish this someday!

If you say you watch the movie you're a couple of liars my fill for this year's @davekatfanswap, written for @chthonicarcher :) first date drive-in theater shenanigans

chapters 6-8 of why do they call it cabin when you cab in the woods of out eat hot the troll

a.k.a. cabin fic, @chthonicarcher's and my collab fic that we are writing for @biouxp, with illustrations by @karkatbug

i really wish it was only me and you

a.k.a. five times karkat met dave while on a date with someone else. posted during @davekatweek and written in a fucking frenzy because its based on a dream i had lol

I will shield you from the waves

sickfic written for @themystiquedreamer's birthday <3

[sebbianas]

marauders in fandom spaces

james would be that person who is friends with everyone artist and writers he would befriend them, does not really have any content but would hype all his friend’s post becomes well known because of this

sirius would be a handsome cosplayer does both male and female characters has a lot of fans

remus would be that person that theorizes about the story and would be right most of the time people sometimes think he’s the author

peter is an artist does a lot of quick sketches that are never fully colored, he post a colored art once and it went viral that the author/writer noticed it

regulus is that writer that everyone loves his works are always highly recommended but he’s not very active in the fandom would post something and then disappear

lily would also be a writer but unlike regulus she’s very active and would reply to all her comments (would sometimes collab with remus)

mary does the occasional cosplay but mostly she makes banger edits and it would always go viral

marlene would have a lot of ongoing fic and she always promises that she would finish it but then she gets a new idea and writes it

dorcas would be a famous smut writer her fics would always have smut but it would be so well written and would always have angst

pandora would be an artist and would make so many wholesome art, she draws scenes from reg’s fic and its the only time they see reg reply to anyone

evan is known for liking exactly one character whenever that character is mentioned you will see evan in the comments or evan is probably the one who posted it lol

barty would know every drama in the fandom would always be updated in the latest gossip with the media he is obsessed with

[mysicklove]

𝐓𝐎-𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Note: i totally stole this (with permission!) from @vampcubus LOL. but this is not organized and some of these ideas may not be written honestly. these are just from my drafts and I thought u guys may be curious to see. but this is mainly just for me!!!

also pls pls pls pls do not steal any ideas from here!!!

UPDATED: 1/18/2024

CURRENTLY WORKING ON

Call It Instincts | Bunny! Yuuta x Reader (NSFW)

↳ Yuuta goes into heat while you are gone at work

Untitled | Big Brother Au - Older brother! Sukuna x Reader (SFW)

↳ Prequeal - How reader and Sukuna fell in love + introduction to baby Yuuji

Lovefool | Omega! lovesick! Yuuji x Alpha! Playboy! Reader (SFW...?)

↳ Yuuji Itadori swears the biggest player on campus is his fated mate - its too bad you seem to not be able to smell him.

Untitled | Kinktober Day 6 - Cuckholding - Nagi + Reo x Reader (NSFW)

↳ You only wanted a taste of your best friends boyfriend.

Untitled | Pet Au! (Desi's collab) - Demon (pet)! Akaza x owner! Reader (SFW)

↳ You never wanted a pet, but it wasnt like you could leave him.

THOUGHTS/IDEAS (FOR LATER)

Big Brother Au: Amusement park, Yuuji gets hurt (reader reverse comfort), gojo + reader and Yuuji calling sukuna (lol) + megumi trying to get u to break up with sukuna (one fic??? idk), choso introduction!!!!, preschool graduation, reader goes on trip

Non-Sexual Submission - Nanami

Reincarnation Au (multipart fic?) - Sukuna

toga x reader x ochako threesome

nanami kid fic??

servant! sly/teasing reader! x King of curses Sukuna x stick in the mud (lol)! Uruame - reader shows Uruame the different side of their lord

Dom/Sub Au - Satoru Gojo

RESPOND TO THIRSTS

Guard Dog! Sukuna x owner! reader x puppy boy! Yuuji

Catboy! Satoru x Reader adopting kitty boy Megumi - satoru has a fit lol

Kinktober.....?

Bllk orgy :/

Watching Sukuna n Gojo fuck one another.

Sukuna (slightly) begging for Yuuji to trade places with him during sex

Open hand frottage

MAKI??? (maki x reader x yuuta?????)

finish a hashiras duty is to protect and rewrite your new pack (will this ever happen? prob not)

[winterchimez]

Read Your Mind | Lee Hyunjae

SUMMARY: both you and Hyunjae had a mutual agreement to begin this whole friends-with-benefits relationship from the start, but now his contradicting actions and behaviour make you question what you both truly are at this point.

PAIRING: fwb Hyunjae x f!reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive

WARNINGS: kissing, making-out, arguments, unrequited love (like the first ⅔ of the fic, but there's a happy ending folks 🥹), mentions of s*x

WORD COUNT: 3,661

A/N: i've been jamming to sabrina carpenter's read your mind lately, hence this fic was born! special shout-out to my fellow sabrina enthusiast @heemingyu for hyping me up throughout the process & reading it through for me as well 😭🫶🏻

update!! this is now part of emails i can't send fwd: series (collab with @heemingyu) ✨

You slammed your laptop down shut as soon as you saw that the clock on the wall struck at half-two. Not wasting any time, you quickly packed all your belongings into your backpack and left the lecture hall immediately. 

Oh, how you’ve always dreaded long lectures like today, which lasted for approximately three hours since your lecturer insisted on finishing up the modulus before letting you off for the long weekend ahead. 

As you made your way out of the hall, you were immediately joined by your group of friends, who were quickly catching up with you, telling you how there’s this new Korean BBQ restaurant in town and how you guys must try it since there’s a limited promotion going on there. It was a Friday night—of course, you had to agree. 

That was until your phone from your back pocket buzzed. 

You took out your mobile and quickly scanned through the notification that just popped up on your screen. 

🎁: Hey, meet me at my place tonight at 8pm? The usual.

A long exasperated sigh left your lips as soon as you saw that message since you knew what it exactly meant.

And how you have been doing it constantly for the past 6 months without anyone besides you two knowing about this whole deal. 

Your friends clearly noticed how quickly your facial expressions shifted and began asking if something was the matter. As usual, you brushed them off and told them how your family issues had come up again and that you wouldn’t be able to join them for the night.

Using your usual pouting facial expression to convince your friends that you’ll definitely make it for the next one, you hope that it will indirectly tell them how you feel sorry about it and stop making them pressure you with more questions. 

Waving them goodbye, you turn your heel in the opposite direction, making your way to the destination that your so-called friend has been expecting you to be.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath before you eventually mustered up the courage to head to where you had to be. 

Here we go again.

You were now on his lap, straddling his waist while his grip tightened around you. Both of you were having a steamy makeout session, lips exploring each other’s like there was no tomorrow, while both of your hands began touching one another, which increased the arousal that you both were feeling at that moment.

Finally, after a while, he gives you a little moment to have a breather while he travels down to your neck and begins leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. Once he got there, he began sucking it a little too hard, one that you knew would definitely leave a hickey behind, and you’ll definitely need to use your handy-dandy concealer to cover them up the next day. 

His hands begin travelling up to your chest, where he begins squeezing one of your breasts, which is where he gets an elicit moan in return, turning him on for the next move he is about to pull. 

“Can I… take your clothes off, Y/N?” 

“Go ahead, Jae.” 

The next thing that happened was that both of your clothes were scattered throughout the floor, and you were now lying in bed with Hyunjae hovering over you. Both of your lips are now reconnected, tongues intertwining with one another, leaving no room for a breather. 

Just as you thought things would get a little spicier, the male suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

“No.” 

“Hyunjae? Is everything alright?”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Hyunjae then gets up and sits on the bed, and you follow by sitting up next to him. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, you looked at him with the look of concern and sincerity in your eyes. 

“Care to share about what’s going through your mind?” 

Hyunjae sighed deeply before furrowing his eyebrows as he stared off into the ceiling. “I’m not sure, Y/N. I know we both agreed on this from the start. But lately, I just don’t feel like this was the same as before.” 

It was true. You both began this whole friends-with-benefits situation because Hyunjae had recently broken off with his ex, and he was feeling slightly lonely. Both of you were only coursemates and nothing else. Eventually, you both got close with one another when you were assigned to be lab partners in one of the subjects within the course.

You noticed how Hyunjae wasn’t as goofy and bright as he was previously, and you decided to check up on him and asked if anything was the matter and if you could at least extend a helping hand to him. Initially, he was reluctant to tell you the truth. After a period of time, he made the deal and spat out what had been bothering him for so long.

Making it clear that he was heartbroken and needed a company, you somehow convinced him that you could do that if he desperately needed them. Though both of you had made it clear to one another that he would not envision you as his ex whenever you did the deed, he merely needed company to satisfy his sexual desires. Adding to the fact that neither of you would fall for each other. You were more than happy to do that so long as you both did not break each other’s boundaries. 

Things started out fine in the beginning, and he started to feel better and presentable at lectures, which made it seem like everything was working out fine. In return, you got to expand your knowledge on romance since you have never had a partner in the past 22 years of your life. In other words, it was kind of a win-win situation for both parties. 

However, you have begun to notice how things have changed from all of your recent makeouts with the male himself. There was this awkward tension in the air, contradicting what you both had agreed on beforehand. There are multiple times—like tonight when Hyunjae suddenly breaks off the kiss and tells you both how you guys are done for the day.

Something was bothering him, and neither of you knew what it was all about because the male himself did not understand his emotions. 

Every time this happened, he felt guilty about it and constantly apologised for everything that had happened. 

But tonight, something was different. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I think I really need some time alone to myself.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just go to bed-” 

“I’ll walk you home, at least.” 

Oh. 

This was the first time Hyunjae asked you to give him space. Usually—even during the recent not-so-good makeout sessions, he would always insist that you stay for the night, reassuring you that his flat is way safer than going back home with the dimly lit streets at night. 

But this? It was something you had least expected to happen, though you didn’t question the male as you could tell it wasn’t the right timing to do so. 

Instead, you just nodded and quickly packed away your stuff before the both of you were ready to head out towards the front door.

The entire walk back to your flat didn’t take that long—it was about a five minute walk, to be exact. But what made this whole short-distance road feel like an eternity was how neither of you spoke a word throughout the whole journey. You could tell Hyunjae wasn’t in his right mind, his face was pale. Hence, you decided to just wrap your arms around yourself and walked close by next to him, respecting the peace and silence for now. 

As you reached your flat, Hyunjae didn’t say much and rather just muttered a simple “goodnight” before he smiled weakly and turned his heel back towards the direction of his residence. 

Whatever happened tonight, you knew that something had changed between the both of your relationships. 

This went on for an entire week. Ever since that fateful day, you’ve noticed how Hyunjae slowly returned to his previous self, where he always seemed so lonely and gloomy. He was quiet for a few days, but the usual message came in, and you find yourself back at his flat two days later.

However, it ended up the same way as it did, pausing suddenly when you both got down to the climax and decided to call it quits before walking back home once again. 

The cycle then continued. He would tell you that he needed to be alone and work on his thoughts for some time before eventually typing down the usual that would keep you busy and occupied with him throughout the night. You would return to him every time, knowing how you’d be left feeling confused and unsatisfied with the entire ordeal.

Yet, your heart yearns for the man, and you’re always hoping that you’ll at least be able to ease his pain and loneliness, even in the slightest bit. 

But tonight is when you decided that enough was enough and would confront him about it. What exactly was bothering him? Or rather, if he was actually getting bored of your company.

You needed to know. 

“Hyunjae, I’m here to talk.” 

When you replied to the male with your usual messages, being the gentleman he was, Hyunjae welcomed you immediately at the front door when you arrived. The usual deal would be that the two of you would get straight down to business without having much say, to begin with. Tonight was when you decided that this would not work out, and you both have to come to terms with one another before things go straight downhill. 

He looked at you with a surprised look, where you could tell that he was definitely taken aback since you were usually the quiet one and would let the male take control of everything. A deep sigh left his mouth, and he invited you into his living room, where you both sat on the couch, distancing ever so slightly from one another. 

You hesitated for a moment before you decided that it was the right time to put together the right words to ask the male what exactly had been going through his mind for the past weeks. 

“What exactly am I to you at this point?” 

It seemed as if the male knew that the day would come when he would eventually have to face the question he had been avoiding for so long. In the beginning, he has always seen you as a good friend who would understand his point of view of where he was coming from and how he deeply appreciated the help you were willing to give him.

But lately, he has been having second thoughts and has begun questioning himself about what he truly felt about you.

Are the both of you still in this whole friends-with-benefits situation? Or even, are you both still good friends at this point? 

It took a minute or two for the male to speak up finally, and what he replied was something that had never once crossed your mind. 

“I fear that I might be crossing the line, Y/N.” 

“And why is that?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know myself.” 

This uncertainty back and forth has really started to get on your nerves, and the fact that you came here tonight to clear the air proved nothing at all. Hyunjae wasn’t sure of his emotions, yet you were desperate to know his point of view. 

Frustrated, you stood up from the couch and raised your voice slightly, facing the male to express your frustrations throughout the past week.

“Hyunjae, you keep telling me that you always needed some time alone, and yet you always want me back by the end of the day. If we’re not going to do this like how we have intentionally started with, then we’re both just wasting all of our time, really.” 

“Y/N, I thought that we could just be casual about all of this-”

“Casual?” You scoffed. “You never were my best friend to begin with. We are just lab partners, and I was merely concerned about your well-being, so I decided to help out a little.”

“And because I love you.” You choked. 

Hyunjae’s eyes widened upon that statement, and he was about to refute it until you managed to fire back again.

“Have you perhaps fallen in love with me?” 

Hyunjae? In love with you? That can’t be. Both of you agreed upon the rules at the start that all of this was merely helping one another out, and there was no room for falling in love with the other party at all. 

You knew that you had already broken the rule from the start, but it didn’t matter to you as long as you were aware that Hyunjae was getting all of the necessary help and support he needed. But with what Hyunjae has been going through lately, he knew that it was why he had begun to see you differently and how he could not touch and feel you like before. 

The question was if he was ready to move on from his ex. With your help, he should have gotten over it and begun to take things a lot easier, right?

If only your theory were right. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

That was enough to tell you that all of the efforts that you have put in over the past few months have gone down the drain that easily. 

You were getting teary-eyed, and you began stomping towards the front door, wanting to escape this suffocating environment that you were in. 

With one final sigh, you fired back at the male once more. “Why the fuss, Hyunjae? If you just say you wanna be mine?” 

Just as quickly as you opened the door, you were instantly gone. Tears begin pooling down your face as you take that long, dark, dimly light road back to the comforts of your flat.

Is it that hard to just admit you have feelings for me, Hyunjae? 

Back at Hyunjae’s flat—he was standing there still, fingers running through his hair in a frustrated manner as he took his phone and dialled the only number he knew who could knock in some sense of mind at this hour. 

“Sangyeon-hyung, I messed up real bad.”

You have never felt so dead over the next few weeks ever since that incident at Hyunjae’s flat. Neither of you has spoken a word to one another or even come close to having eye contact at all.

It was tough when you were both assigned lab partners for your chemistry subject and had to talk to your advisor to have your partner physically changed for the rest of the year. It was tough coming up with plausible reasons as to why you wanted him to be switched out with someone else—but ultimately, your request was approved. You were now paired with one of the girls from the class with whom you were not too familiar with, but that was fine by you so long as it wasn’t him. 

Obviously, your efforts did not go unnoticed, and the male eventually tried his best to reach out to you again. But every time you managed to get a slight glimpse of him walking your way, you have always done your best to keep yourself occupied or even walk away to avoid starting up a conversation with him. 

You even tried blocking him off of all of your social media and on your contacts list—he was already swarming you with calls or messages, trying to just talk to you or even apologise for what happened. But honestly, you were just not ready to hear whatever he would say to you, especially when you fell for the man before you started this whole friends-with-benefits relationship. 

I have been such a fool to think he would eventually love me back. 

It was a quiet afternoon when you decided to spend the rest of the day finishing your assignments before the final exams were due in about a week. The library has always been your comfort place to be on campus. Not only can you take a little breather from all the chaos on campus, but you also could take a little nap in between, especially during times like this when you’ve always pulled an all-nighter and your sleep schedule was all messed up. 

Standing up from your seat, you decided to walk down towards one of the halls to get some textbooks that would be helpful as your source of references for the current report you were typing on your computer. 

The peace wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt a presence behind you that you had avoided for the past month. The cologne was what gave his identity away, you would’ve recognised it immediately without a doubt because you used to spend the nights with him all the time. 

You tried your best to ignore the male, constantly trying to fidget through the shelves until you finally grabbed enough materials to return to your table. 

That was until he decided to grab hold of your arm, and now you were left with no escape and choice but to come face-to-face with the person you have been avoiding at all cost. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. But please, at least, hear me out for a few minutes.” 

Taking in a deep sigh, you laid your head down and looked at your books before muttering to the male. 

“Five minutes.” 

He then lets go of your arms and straightens his back as he clears his throat to finally muster up the courage to tell you what has been trying his best to tell you over the missed calls and messages. 

“First of all, I’m an idiot. I messed up so bad, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have done nor said what I did back then-”

“Cut to the chase, Hyunjae. I have no time to waste.” 

“Listen. I haven’t been able to look at you the same nor touch you the way I did before because… I am starting to care a lot about you, Y/N. I’m not talking this from a friends-with-benefits stance, but rather as a friend.” 

You scoffed. “So this is what it’s all about? Coming here to apologise and tell me you have changed? I have to laugh if that’s what it is, Hyunjae. Look, if you are sneaking up on me just to tell me that you need me back to do whatever shit that we used to do, then I’m sorry, but I’m done with that phase.” 

He now grips both of your shoulders, trying to knock some sense into you. “No, Y/N. I’m not seeking a sexual relationship with you anymore. I’ve been a jerk not to notice how, during this whole time, I have begun to care a lot about you because you mean more to me as a friend.” 

“And because I have fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

No. 

No way, it can’t be. Hyunjae has made it clear how he only needed company back then, and he was nowhere near or wanting to begin a new relationship after how messed up his and his ex’s one was. You’ve got to be hearing things, maybe your lack of sleep lately was the key to this. 

“You don’t, Hyunjae. You don’t love me. I was just merely a company for you.” 

“That was before, Y/N. But not anymore.” 

He now takes a step closer to you as he pins you against the bookshelf. 

“And I’m going to make myself clear, miss Y/N. I can now confidently say that I am ready to start anew and begin this new chapter with you. The old Lee Hyunjae that you have known is now gone, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life with you as your boyfriend.” 

Tears began forming in your eyes, and you had to try so hard to fight back the tears and respond to the male. 

“I can’t read your mind, Hyunjae. One day, you told me you needed space and to be alone, and the next thing that happened, you came back to me saying you wanted me back. I do not enjoy this joke in the slightest bit, Hyunjae.” 

He notices how your tears are on the verge of streaming down the beautiful face he has longed to yearn for over the past month, and he now closes the gap between you two, lips now brushing against one another.

“Then let me prove it to you.” 

He shuts you up by placing his soft, gentle lips against yours, and with that, the tears that you have held back for so long begin pouring down like there’s no tomorrow. 

He rests one of his hands around your waist while the other seemingly rests on your right cheek, slowly catching each drop of tears as he wipes them away. 

Oh, how badly you have missed this—the familiar sensation, his cologne, presence, and the soft, luscious lips against yours. 

Both of you were kissing one another as if it was just like the first time you both had done it—tongues were now intertwined, and neither of you were planning to let go anytime soon. 

“Hyunjae—God—Don’t—Stop.” You said in between the kisses as you tried your best to catch your breath. 

“Never planned to do so, Y/N.” 

As he breaks off the kiss and travels down to your neck to nibble and leave a trail of kisses behind, he whispers into your ear before continuing the deed. 

“You may have fallen for me first, but I have fallen for you harder.”

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