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another super kinky fantasy about me and LADS guys: they wrap me in the blanket, hug me and say something like "even if contribution to knowledge in your thesis is not significant, you'll always be significant to me"

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Stars On Ice

From the screen to the ice: it's Movie Week on Stars on Ice! Our participants will bring to life iconic characters from beloved films and TV shows. Action, mystery, drama, even sci-fi — true creativity knows no bounds!

Pairing: celebrity!Zayne x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: Judge Zayne unexpectedly reveals his connection to the criminal world… of cats. And the tango, as practice shows, is suitable not only for expressing passion, but also for hiding it safely.

CW: figure skating!au, friendship and light banter, unresolved tension, emotional detachment, meow

Notes: this is the third episode of zayne's plotline, the previous ones, along with other plotlines, can be found here. mc is a retired olympic figure skater, zayne is a judge and a court show host who suddenly went viral for his looks and vibe. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Episode 3. Por Una Cabeza (Scent of a Woman OST)

"So, how’s my blind man impression?" Zayne asks with that signature deadpan expression of his — the kind I could stare at for hours but also kind of want to wipe right off his face.

"Magnificent. Like you binge-watched that one movie scene ten times, then buried yourself in research till 5 AM," I say. He blinks at me, genuinely startled.

"How did you—"

"Deduction, Watson." I grin, fighting the urge to trace the shadows under his eyes with my fingers. My imagination helpfully supplies how he’d probably remove my hand with a firm but gentle "don’t."

The temptation wins anyway. When I’m sure no one’s looking, I drag a fingertip along his cheekbone. He doesn’t pull away — not immediately. Instead, his eyelids flutter shut, and for a heartbeat, he leans into my touch like it’s instinct.

Then he jerks back, eyes snapping open, and I feel the light tremor that races through him.

"It’s late. The rink’s closing soon," he mumbles, suddenly looking flustered in a way that’s almost dorky, and I mentally file this away as a personal victory.

"Walk me to the square, like usual?" I ask, overly casual, as if nothing just happened.

"Yeah. But let’s make a quick stop first." He glances away like he’s confessing to a felony. "Gotta feed… someone."

..Turns out, someone is indeed a felon. A battle-scarred ginger tomcat with a face like a thrice-folded origami of bad decisions glares at us, a plastic-wrapped sausage clamped in his jaws.

"And what’s this? Stolen goods?" Zayne adopts his best judge voice. "Theft is a criminal offense, you know? Oh, you know. I can see it in your eyes."

"Never thought I’d witness the Honorable Judge Zayne disciplining a cat," I say, crouching to inspect the furry delinquent. His murky teal eyes assess me like I’m either a threat or a potential accomplice.

"Discipline? Him?" Zayne snorts, wresting the sausage away. The cat yowls, but Zayne — ignoring the claws — peels off the plastic and hands it back. "It’s already unsalvageable. Might as well let Crookshanks eat it without the packaging. Last time, the plastic didn’t digest, and… I won't specify what happened next and who exactly had to handle the aftermath."

"Why did I imagine that?" I mutter, and Zayne’s mouth twitches. "Speaking of... Crookshanks is too perfect a name. Don’t tell me you’re a—"

"Potterhead? Guilty." His tone stays grave. "Why do you think I went into law? Wanted a fancy robe and a courtroom that looks like Hogwarts."

This time, I laugh outright. Seizing the moment, I plop my hand on his head like the Sorting Hat.

"Let me guess. Ravenclaw." I resist the urge to tangle my fingers in his stupidly soft black hair — that would be too much.

"Bingo." He removes my hand, then mimics the gesture, stopping a hair’s breadth from my scalp. "Gryffindor?"

"Nope. Proud Hufflepuff." I smirk, hyperaware of how close we’re standing. "Their common room is next to the kitchens. Just the pinnacle of my childhood dreams".

"So, as a kid, you just… dreamed about food?" he asks, and I shrug casually:

"Name one competitive figure skater who didn’t."

Something flickers in his eyes — concern. I usually avoid dwelling on the darker parts of my career, but some truths don’t need spelling out.

"Guess that means I’ll have to feed you properly too," he says, in a tone that brooks no argument, and I don't find anything better than to laugh bitterly:

"What am I for you, Crookshanks Jr.?"

...Judging by our performance tonight, that’s exactly what I am to him: another stray he’s decided to care for. Zayne’s meticulous, gallant, always putting my interests first — he suggested this tango because I’d never skated to one before. Gardel’s tango has always been my favorite, and he’d concluded the blind colonel act would mask the stiffness he hasn’t yet unlearned.

And he has improved. His movements are fluid now, his technique nearly impeccable for his current level. If he was as a skater instead of a judge, that discipline would’ve landed him on the national team. Even his avoidance of eye contact works — it’s totally in character, just what makes our routine unique.

But let’s be real: a tango should feel like a tango. Frank in Scent of a Woman might’ve been blind, but he devoured every second with that gorgeous woman in his arms. Zayne’s got the gallantry down — hell, he could play Mr. Darcy without changing a thing — but this isn’t Regency England. I’d bet my skates his love confessions are sprawling epistolary masterpieces stuffed with four-syllable words. But right now? That’s not what I need.

And yes, I’m greedy. Maybe it’s shameful. But I’m perfectly aware that I'm dancing tango on ice with a devastatingly handsome man — can you blame me for wanting a little heat?

My feelings stay locked in my throat. The judges praise our "artistry" and Zayne’s "dedication," and it seems that I'm the only one in the world for whom it wasn't enough. Back at the dressing rooms, we exchange our usual congratulations, and I flee to splash cold water on my face, as if that could scrub away the wanting.

Then I see it.

On the table: a bento box, neatly packed. And a note beside it — with my name.

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random mediterranean aesthetic (because my mom said that aestheticizing your life is a good way to learn to appreciate it)

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Stars On Ice

From the screen to the ice: it's Movie Week on Stars on Ice! Our participants will bring to life iconic characters from beloved films and TV shows. Action, mystery, drama, even sci-fi — true creativity knows no bounds!

Episode 3. The Mad Man with a Box (Doctor Who OST)

Pairing: celebrity!Xavier x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: Sometimes, when love crashes into your life, you’re just not ready for it — especially if you’re awkward and hopelessly unromantic by nature. But when your partner’s just as awkward as you are, it gets a whole lot easier to handle.

CW: figure skating!au, fluff, awkward romance, newly established relationship, dorks in love, mild social anxiety, mild public embarrassment, they really are dorks your honor

Notes: this is the third episode of xavier's plotline, the previous ones, along with other plotlines, can be found here. mc is a retired olympic figure skater, xavier is a former teen disney star who was trying to build his private life far from fame but still accepted the invitation to the show for some reason. dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

In classic romance novels, the story usually ends right after the grand love confession — two hearts exchanged, eternal happiness sealed, no questions asked. And, of course, not a single word about how, after all that, the couple actually has to get used to each other, figure things out, and face problems together. Lately, I think I’m beginning to understand why authors tend to skip that part. Because even the most perfect hero and the most delicate heroine lose a bit of their romantic glow once it turns out they can be painfully awkward in a real relationship.

Ever since we finally said everything we’d been bottling up (have you ever tried to confess your love in the time it takes for a YouTube video to cut to ads about real estate and chocolate bars?), my brain’s been struggling to process it all. Like... he loves me? Seriously, he loves me? This isn’t a prank? You’re telling me we hang out at his place again, watching season 18 of classic Doctor Who, I scoot closer and ask him to hold me because, as much as I love the show, the cactus villain is making me just a tiny bit anxious — and then, during the commercial break, he says that to me?

And my best reply is “Holy guacamole”?

And then he proceeds to prove, in no uncertain terms, that he’s never heard anything hotter in his life than this?

Our trainings after all that still go on without a hitch — our level of on-ice and off-ice cuddling is steadily climbing, which I’d say is more of a perk than a drawback of the job. We run through our routine — still painfully nerdy and friendship-themed, choreographed back when our relationship hadn’t exactly taken this… unexpected turn. I sneak a quick kiss when no one’s looking and step aside to stretch my back, which started aching mid-practice. By the time I get back, Xavier is already surrounded by the hosts. I realize he’s been ambushed by the camera crew, and there’s no more guessing who’s next up for the “Get to Know the Skater” segment.

“You made quite the impression on our viewers — especially the female ones — as the most romantic contestant this season,” one of the hosts says. Xavier bashfully looks away.

“Must be because of our last routine,” he mumbles, cheeks flushed a delicate porcelain pink. “But I’m afraid I might disappoint them. When it comes to romance, I’m basically Shrek. I’d pick a quiet evening in my swamp over a fancy candlelit date any day.”

“What’s your ideal type of girl?” the host asks curiously. And Xavier, still unaware I’m back from behind the scenes, just spills:

“Someone I can talk to about anything. Someone who gets excited about the simple stuff, the geeky stuff too. Who always has a funny comeback—even to a love confession. Maybe… my ideal girl is just as unromantic and, um, Shrek-like as me.” He pauses, suddenly realizing how that sounded. “I mean, not Shrek-like in appearance — though I totally respect all kinds of beauty! And appearance isn’t even the main thing, it’s about the person —oh my god, what am I saying. Please tell me you’ll edit this part out?”

That’s when he notices I’m already standing there. One look at his kitten-scared eyes and beet-red cheeks says more than any words could. The host glances at me too, and judging by his sly grin, I realize I’ve just as much given myself away — because I’ve been watching Xavier mess this up like a giddy lovestruck fangirl.

Hopelessly in love with how brilliantly awkward he is.

And, as the saying goes — if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I take Xavier’s hand and glance into his eyes just to make sure he’s okay with dropping the secrecy and saying it out loud. He smiles, nods — and before I can say anything, gently pulls me into a hug.

“I’d really prefer not to make this a big topic for discussion or speculation,” he tells the film crew, calm and confident now, not a trace of the earlier awkwardness. “Out of respect for our private life, I hope this doesn’t become one of the main segments in the episode. But let’s just say — according to the story of our program, I’ve got two hearts. And both of them belong to one person.”

“Spoilers,” I say, pressing a finger to his lips. He smirks at the reference and kisses the tip of my finger.

We actually spent a while deciding which part of the endless Doctor Who universe to capture in our program, but I fell in love with the season 5 soundtrack, and Xavier just naturally fit the Eleventh Doctor — young, warmhearted, eccentric, and adorably awkward. I was supposed to be Amy Pond, of course. But we’d choreographed the piece before we started dating, and we didn’t quite consider how much the dynamic between us might shift. It’s normal for figure skaters to perform romantic programs without any real-life romance — but try skating a program without any romance, when you’re suddenly full of it in real life!

And maybe we’re trying too hard to hold back, because the result ends up way too restrained. So much so that our artistic scores are noticeably lower than we’d hoped. I watch my usually composed partner clench his jaw as the judges critique the lack of emotional fire in a piece he poured his nerdy little heart (well, both hearts) into.

“I think the showrunners are deliberately trying to pressure us into producing more romance content,” I say later in the locker room, fingers gently combing through his hair as he lies on the bench with his head resting on my lap, yawning like he hasn’t slept in a week. I’ve noticed this about Xavier too: he bottles up stress, and it often comes out as sheer exhaustion.

“Let’s just skate what we actually feel comfortable with," he murmurs, eyelids heavy. "Even if they underscore us, who cares? I’m not here to win. I’ve already got the most important prize anyway.”

He shifts to his side, curling into my thigh like it’s his favorite pillow, brushing his cheek against it.

“Your bowtie’s crooked,” I whisper, straightening his deep burgundy bowtie and lightly brushing his neck with my fingers, watching his long blond lashes flutter.

“Bowties are cool,” he mutters, finally drifting off.

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Honkai star rail 🌸 hanahaki au

Gallagher 🐾 — @slightly-teambuilding

Photo 📸 — thundercakee

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wandering around yorkshire moorlands that inspired brontë sisters to write about their questionable dark romance characters and hoping to find some inspiration to write about my favorite questionable dark romance characters hi caleb

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a groundbreaking fanfic concept: a fanfic called Whatthefuck Heights, which parallels Heathcliff and Catherine's storyline, but with Sylus and MC instead, respectively, and the plot about the Byronic hero and his indomitable cursed love turns into an indomitable stream of cursed jokes

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me and who

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If you are a vampire NEVER feed from someone named Richard. 400 fucking years and everyone still calls me Dick Sucker

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when you're playing "love and big boobs" and you're slightly older than all the love interests out there, the gorgeous russian meme song "golden wedding" by the boysband "five erections" suddenly becomes extremely relatable

here's the translation:

GOLDEN WEDDING

DEAR BRIDE

I'VE BEEN WITH YOU FOR 50 YEARS

EVEN THOUGH I'M ONLY 17 YEARS OLD

WE'RE YOUR 8 HUSBANDS

AND WE WANT CHILDREN FROM YOU

WE'RE YOUR 8 HUSBANDS

AND WE WANT CHILDREN FROM YOU

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Stars On Ice

Love is in the air — or not? "Love and Ice" seems like the perfect theme for a Valentine's Day episode of the figure skating show. But maybe the showrunners got ahead of themselves? Can the participants, who have been skating together for less than a month, really pull it off?

Episode 2. the boy is mine (Ariana Grande)

Pairing: celebrity!Rafayel x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: When the performance turns into a public display of passion, doubts inevitably arise about where the stage chemistry ends and something dangerously real begins.

CW: figure skating!au, flirty banter, innuendos, emotional and sexual tension

Notes: this is the second episode of rafayel's plotline in the figure skating!au. the first one, along with other plotlines, can be found here. rafayel is a wildly popular model, dancer and tiktok star. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“Thomas said the audience wants sex, so who am I to argue,” Rafayel spins in front of the mirror, scrutinizing his reflection and fussing with his half-unbuttoned shirt again, as if he’s forgotten it’ll end up a mess during the routine anyway.

“Right,” I snort, patiently waiting for this fashion victim to vacate the mirror. “You're not exactly known for slapping the face of public taste.”

“Depends on the slaps and the taste,” he winks slyly. “Besides, prudes aren’t really our target audience.”

“I love how you say ‘our’ like I wasn’t dragged into this debauchery by you,” I retort. “And stop torturing that shirt. It looked great on you fifteen minutes ago.”

“I dragged you? Puh-leeease. You dove in all on your own — and pretty eagerly, might I add,” he steps aside, finally letting me see myself, and I can tell he’s also admiring the view. He clearly enjoys being the one to draw this side out of me, considering my competitive career never allowed for this kind of on-ice chaos — though I’ve never actually told him that, and he probably doesn’t suspect.

He comes up behind me and smooths a wrinkle on my sleeve — pointlessly, really.

“Don't forget, Miss Guardian Angel,” he murmurs into what’s either my ear or my neck, “you’re the main sex appeal in tonight’s routine, not me. And if you do it like you did in rehearsals, that’ll be more than enough to trigger a nationwide nosebleed, trust me.”

“You think so?” I ask, uncertain, turning to him. I’m not really one to be insecure about my looks — despite everything I’ve heard throughout my career — but somehow, with Rafayel, I can never get enough reassurance.

“Objectively or subjectively?” he asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer. “Objectively — we wouldn’t be going that viral if it were just me out there in the spotlight. You’ve got everything it takes to set the ice on fire. Subjectively — I wouldn’t have picked 'the boy is mine' for us if I didn’t know it would be a blast. Satisfied?”

He gently cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones.

“You’re convincing, I’ll give you that,” I place my hands over his. “And, by the way, the ‘K-drama boyfriend’ mannerisms really work as a bonus argument.”

He just laughs.

“I know. That mega-strategy hasn’t failed me yet.”

A crew member calls us over, and we head to the ice together — instinctively reaching for each other’s hands, only to pull back almost immediately. No need to overdo the sentimental bits. We already have a full three minutes of semi-obscene clinging scheduled; best not to drown the audience in syrup. Gotta leave them with that bittersweet hint of almost. The ship tease must remain a tease. Rafayel, being media-savvy as hell, already schooled me on that one.

I still have to steel myself before the skate — Rafayel may fumble technically, but emotionally, he’s always on point. Me? I can pull it off — I mean, Olympic medalist, hello — but the gap between the persona I’m playing and the real me is just… a lot.

In character, I’m supposed to know he’s mine. Fully. Completely. Act like I’ve already won him over and he belongs to me, no questions asked. Reality, though? I’m not even sure it’s wise to think of Rafayel that way, and I’m trying hard to avoid it — for the sake of my own mental stability.

Then again, we’ve already agreed that what happens on TikTok stays on TikTok, and what happens on the ice stays on the ice. Even if the whole point of the routine could be summed up as “your daily three-minute dose of groping Rafayel,” as he so eloquently put it.

Under the spotlight, he turns into something else entirely — and I do too. Touches feel hotter, body contact tighter, moves that seemed perfectly tame in rehearsals now teeter on the edge of decency. I’m doing things I wouldn’t have dreamed of on the ice before — and it’s dizzying. But when you’ve got strong arms holding you, a cocky smirk, and that approving, awestruck gaze? Suddenly, the impossible doesn’t feel so scary.

Running my hands down his body, this time not by accident but very much on purpose? Don’t mind if I do. Lightly brushing my lips against his neck—clearly exposed for exactly that reason, and egged on by his signature grin? Absolutely. Straddling his hips during a lift? ISU rules allow that pose just fine, so everyone else can shove it.

He doesn’t hold back either — especially when, according to the program’s storyline, his character finally snaps and gives in to temptation. He spins me, pulls me in for the final lift, doesn’t let go for a second. Is he mine, or am I the one getting claimed here? That question hangs in the air — at least until the music stops and our faces end up way too close. Dangerously close. For both of us.

What happens on the ice should stay on the ice. But… not to that extent, right?

“None of it would’ve worked without my partner,” Rafayel says later in an interview, with his trademark half-ironic delivery, juggling words like a seasoned stand-up comic. “Seriously, she’s so gorgeous that I had to read a dubstep prayer three times mid-skate just to preserve my chastity.”

And I can’t stop wondering — where does the line between this meta-irony and reality lie for him? When does he stop being Rafayel the media product? When the lights go down? When the TikTok stream ends? When he’s completely alone?

As much as I like Rafayel (guilty as charged), I’m not putting myself on the line until I know that for sure.

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today's aesthetic featuring st matthew from the ebbo gospels (9th century), a VERY random russian 18th century book about weird wedding traditions, wooden guy from manchester streets, sylus and my socks

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Stars On Ice

Love is in the air — or not? "Love and Ice" seems like the perfect theme for a Valentine's Day episode of the figure skating show. But maybe the showrunners got ahead of themselves? Can the participants, who have been skating together for less than a month, really pull it off?

Episode 2. I Love You As Much As Someone Like Me Can Love Anyone (Galavant OST)

Pairing: celebrity!Caleb x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: Choreographing together a love-themed routine with your childhood friend — talk about peak awkward. Still, what better excuse to explore a more creative side of yourself?

CW: figure skating!au, fluff, friends to whatever the hell it will be

Notes: this is the second episode of caleb's plotline in the figure skating!au. the first one, along with other plotlines, can be found here. caleb is the renowned baseball player, and his figure skating pipsqueak was his childhood neighbor and sports college friend. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"Looks like our plan to keep the season themed around 'Fifty Shades of Friendship' is about to face its first real challenge," Caleb says, scrolling through the latest update from the showrunners while absentmindedly playing with my hair. I'm sprawled on the couch, my head resting on his thigh like it owns this place.

"Hm? They’ve announced the theme?" I glance up at him and can’t help but notice how oddly funny his chin looks from this angle.

"Yep. 'Love and Ice'. Hope you're mentally prepared to waltz with me to Ed Sheeran or something equally syrupy," he teases. I picture how we’d totally turn that into a parody of ourselves, and can’t help snorting into his sweatpants.

"I’ve had my fair share of sappy waltzes in my solo career. Not as many as the deep, tear-jerking Einaudi pieces, but still. At least they let me do those. Tango, though, was strictly off-limits. Didn’t fit the image..."

"I remember. I’ve got all your programs memorized," his hand brushes gently across my cheek. "Want to close that chapter, pipsqueak?"

"Dance a tango with you?" I ask hesitantly. "I mean, I’m not against it, but doesn’t that kind of mean we’re caving to the show’s demands? We did agree to keep pushing the 'strictly friends' agenda, right? And this would be... a strictly platonic tango. Tango a la bro."

"And why not? Sounds like a fresh concept," he shrugs casually.

"But what if people start gossiping or reading into it?"

"Oh, come on, we know better than anyone what’s really going on between us," he leans in just a bit, eyes meeting mine. "What does it matter what they say, if you know perfectly well there’s a loud, echoing nothing in the romance department?"

I stay silent. Technically, he's not wrong, but something about how he phrased it makes my stomach twist a little. And I think he knows that, too — at least on some level — even if he didn’t mean anything by it.

"We can always make it ridiculous. Do it our way," he adds more gently, like he’s trying to make up for the awkward beat.

"The most cursed tango this side of the Seven Seas?"

"Exactly. Something like squirrel tango from Ice Age 3, for instance."

I burst out laughing and reach up, trying to grab his nose. He scrunches his face and dodges, but despite our little scuffle, he doesn’t move my head from his leg. A gentleman, clearly.

"Weren’t we going to finish Galavant?" I ask, wiggling around a little to get comfy again. Convenient, when your friend offers you a lap as a personal pillow. Warm, cozy, and cheaper than memory foam.

"You’ve got the strength for one more episode? All righty," he says, starting up the next one. Then he grabs a chip from the bag and brings it to my lips like he’s teasing me. I laugh and bite it out of his fingers, gently nipping his finger too.

"Ouch. So you’re a biter, huh... Wait."

He freezes suddenly, his ears picking up on the rhythm of a song — the duet between Galavant and Queen Madalena. I listen for a second too and realize what’s got his attention.

It’s a tango. And a really cursed one.

The costume department should be thanking us: making medieval parody outfits is definitely easier than sewing squirrel suits. And it turns out Caleb looks absurdly good in a doublet. Honestly, the whole lovesick knight aesthetic suits him alarmingly well — even when Madalena is breaking it to him in no uncertain terms, he still refuses to believe she’s heartless. Caleb glances at my costume, gives me a once-over, and says:

"You know, pips, for all our efforts to stick to the friendship narrative, I’m afraid there’s no getting around the fact that you look hot. Don’t read into it — just an objective observation."

"Come on, let’s go get ready for our skate, Mr. Objective," I mutter, hoping he won’t notice how red my face just got.

If Caleb hadn’t gone into baseball, he could’ve made a killing as a comedic actor — we've already figured that out during rehearsals. But now, under the lights, in that costume, he is Galavant — right down to the puppy-dog eyes and dramatic flinches at Madalena’s cruel lines, each woven perfectly into the choreography. He worked hard to get every expression right so the whole thing flows like a story. I’m doing my best to keep up, and I have to admit, the process of building this number has been more fun than I expected.

Truth be told, I’d always wanted to try tango — to explore a darker, more passionate and maybe even cynical side of myself. During my competitive years, I wasn’t allowed to show that kind of thing on the ice. Judges and audiences liked the delicate, ethereal image I had at the Olympics. Any shift from that would’ve been a disaster — or so the coaches told me.

But now? I’m not skating for anyone’s national pride anymore. I can let the sharp edges show. I can be the version of myself my close ones knew — Caleb included.

And with him, it all comes out naturally.

This time, he doesn’t crack a single joke mid-performance. Doesn’t throw off his breathing. Every lift is precise, careful, like I’m the most precious thing in his world — a menace, sure, but still precious. There’s still a bit of his usual looseness in the solo moves, but we’ll work through it later. If we make it to the next round (and we have to, with a performance like this), we’ll have time. And even if we don’t — who says we can’t keep skating together just for fun, on some random rink...

But that’s later. For now, a line from Galavant’s song lingers in the air, unanswered:

“I mean, I love that it’s meaningless fun.”

“So basically... you love me?”

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in fact my only kinky fantasy about me and lads guys is them hugging me and telling me that I'm a strong girl who handles all this academic stuff and life shit gracefully and deserves a good rest. lying me onto the bed and tucking the blanket is optional but not unwelcome

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my first attempt at academia aesthetic (featuring gothic buildings that I saw in york today and in anamur this winter, as well as my daily easy reading and a neat card game about plague)

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Stars On Ice

Love is in the air — or not? "Love and Ice" seems like the perfect theme for a Valentine's Day episode of the figure skating show. But maybe the showrunners got ahead of themselves? Can the participants, who have been skating together for less than a month, really pull it off?

Episode 2. So This Is Love (Cinderella OST)

Pairing: celebrity!Xavier x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: If you can’t outrun your Disney past, you might as well face it head-on. Besides, there’s really nothing wrong with letting a little bit of fairytale into your life.

CW: figure skating!au, fluff, romantic tension, JoJo references lol

Notes: the second episode of the figure skating!au kicks off! the first one, along with other plotlines, can be found here. xavier is a former teen disney star who was trying to build his private life far from fame but still accepted the invitation to the show for some reason. dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

"Today we're warming up to my playlist, no negotiations," I say as I walk up to Xavier and gently cup his cheek, sliding one of my earbuds into his ear.

"Alright, alright," he laughs, making no move to pull away. "Let’s see what level of musical cringe you’ve dived into today, Miss DJ."

"Top-tier cringe, you’re gonna love it. And let’s be real — Despacito works way better for training than Rachmaninoff’s preludes, admit it," I smile, stepping onto the treadmill.

The truth is, Xavier somehow managed to rekindle my love for piano music recently, even though I swore I was done with it after retiring. My head was too full of Einaudi and Max Richter pieces I’d skated to for years — it got to the point where even a few sentimental piano notes made me queasy. But then one day I dropped by Xavier’s place to talk about the program and caught him listening to, I think, Liszt — and we ended up wrapped in a blanket, listening to all the Transcendental Études back to back. And okay, fine. It was great. I’d be lying if I said I only endured it for his sake.

"I still don’t want the next program to be set to piano, though," I said when we circled back to the topic after the concert. I really didn’t want to leave — Xavier’s shoulder was too cozy to give up easily (not before five a.m. next Friday, at least).

"Totally fine," he said, and I looked at him with genuine gratitude. However much of a classical music nerd he was, he never tried to force it on me, and I appreciated that. "What was the theme again?"

"'Love on Ice' or something like that," I said, and watched the pink rise to his cheeks.

"Ah. Well... that leaves plenty of room for interpretation."

"Exactly. We can even tell something personal through the skating — if we want to, of course. For me, it’s always been a way to deal with things when I’ve got too much inside. Cookie?"

"I’ll take it," he said, gently taking the cookie from my hand, his fingers brushing against my palm just a bit longer than necessary. "So let’s think about what exactly we want to tell."

The answer came pretty quickly, really. It was kind of obvious from the start. I didn’t feel like digging through my own past just yet, but I did feel like exploring how absurdly princely my partner was. Sorry, babe, but there’s a reason Disney once came knocking.

We finish our warm-up (Xavier eventually concedes to my airtight argument that the JoJo soundtrack is perfect for the task) and head off to our respective dressing rooms. When we meet again just before going on, he looks both exactly like himself and nothing like himself at all in that white jacket with silver trim. Honestly, the makeup and costume teams clearly leaned way into the whole ex-Disney image (in the best way), and he, being polite, kept his opinions to himself.

"You know," he says, slipping his hand into mine in that now-familiar way, "while they were doing my makeup, I realized Cinderella and the prince only worked out because they didn’t really talk during the ball. Imagine the disaster if the prince had opened his mouth and turned out to be a huge nerd. I’d think twice before losing that glass slipper."

"Not necessarily," I grin. "A nerdy prince might’ve opened up a whole new world for Cinderella. The girl had only seen brooms and rags, after all."

He smiles too and reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair back into place.

"Someone’s asking for an hour-long lecture on supernovas after the shoot," he says in that soft, intimate tone of his, sending my thoughts racing far from any scientific topic.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," I can’t take my eyes off him — god, god.

"And a JoJo season five binge until midnight," he adds, playfully.

"Still not hearing a downside."

A sharp yell from a studio assistant snaps us out of it — though to be fair, we probably needed snapping out. We exchange one last knowing look before stepping onto the ice, ready to deliver full-blown romance and Disney magic for the cameras.

What happens after, watching anime curled up at Xavier’s place, is none of the audience’s business.

On the ice, Xavier looks like a straight-A student trying his best to ace every element. He doesn’t show it when something goes wrong — of course not everything goes right, he’s only been skating a month — but I feel the frustration coming off him in this subtle, emotional undercurrent. I’ll have to talk to him about it later. Maybe even offer a shoulder massage or something — whatever gets him to ease up. The thing is, waltz suits him beautifully, and the lift we came up with this week is way more complex than the last one. And he nails it.

Unlike Cinderella and the prince, I don’t really believe you can build a whole relationship in an hour without saying much. I think you don’t know it’s love until you’ve seen someone’s eyes light up when they talk about something that defines their world — and until you’re sure that your world matters to them, too. I know I could listen to Xavier talk about space and sci-fi for hours. And I know he’s genuinely curious about every nuance of figure skating.

So maybe this really is it.

But for now… I think I’m just afraid to say it out loud and scare it away.

[captainventi]

Stars On Ice

Love is in the air — or not? "Love and Ice" seems like the perfect theme for a Valentine's Day episode of the figure skating show. But maybe the showrunners got ahead of themselves? Can the participants, who have been skating together for less than a month, really pull it off?

Episode 2. How 'Bout a Dance? (Bonnie & Clyde)

Pairing: celebrity!Sylus x figure skater!MC

Synopsis: When the show's Valentine's Day theme pushes them toward a 'love story' performance, the two least romantic participants put their own spin on it — quite literally — blending love and gangsters.

CW: figure skating!au, fluff, light teasing, mild risk (high lifts), sylus getting a little touchy

Notes: the second episode of the figure skating!au kicks off! the first one, along with other plotlines, can be found here. sylus is a founder and a CEO of a renowned IT company. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

I figured the showrunners would eventually push all the pairs toward some kind of romance, but damn, I didn’t expect it to happen this soon. Though, considering Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, I probably should’ve seen it coming.

Not that the idea of Sylus and romance feels completely incompatible — honestly, if he had to, he could probably pull off the most romantic date in the world for some hypothetical sweetheart: Maldives, violins, harps, white rose petals scattered over a king-sized bed, a sky full of diamonds, and all the other necessary clichés. But why I have to be mentioned in the same sentence as Sylus and romance — now that’s a far more interesting question.

Sylus sips his coffee thoughtfully while I explain my main concern: I have no clue how we’re supposed to pull off this “love” theme without it coming across as awkward, forced, and painfully fake. It’s really important to me that our performance doesn’t feel like some cringe-fest we’re half-assing just because we have to. It’s a matter of respect — for the audience, for him, and for myself.

"Fair enough," he says once I finish. "Okay, then. Let’s brainstorm. If not romance, what do I make you think of? What kind of role would feel natural for me?"

Oh, that one’s easy.

"A gangster," I say without hesitation. "No doubt about it. You’ve even got the look right now — like, ‘I came here to drink coffee and shoot you in the head, and as you can see, I’m out of coffee.’"

He bursts out laughing, low and loud.

"In our case, more like, ‘You’re funny — I’ll kill you last,’" he says, setting his empty cup aside and giving me a long, considering look, like a professor about to quiz a student who didn’t do the reading. "So. We could blend the love story with a gangster vibe — that way it’d feel more natural for you. Got any ideas?"

I just shrug helplessly.

"Honestly? All I can think of is Bonnie and Clyde."

"Bonnie and Clyde?" Sylus chuckles. "Could work. There’s an old movie, and even a musical about them, so we could borrow something from that. Like, Bonnie’s got a pretty catchy song in the musical — you might’ve even heard it: ‘How ’bout a dance, let's make a start…’"

I immediately slap a hand over his mouth before he can belt out another note.

"Sylus, I’ll skate with you to literally anything, but for the love of everything holy, do not sing in public," I hiss, tightening my grip.

He just smirks — and, without warning, covers my hand with his own, trapping it. Then, feather-light, almost teasingly, he brushes his lips over my knuckles, my fingertips, his warm breath making my skin tingle.

"What are you doing?..” I try for an indignant protest but only manage a helpless squeak.

"You gave me your hand yourself, kitten," he says, his grin widening wickedly.

And I swear, I have never wanted to bite someone’s ear or nose more in my life — probably not a great idea, though, considering we’re still in a café.

Anyway, we settle on the music fast — someone can be very convincing — and the program actually turns out pretty good, especially after I suggest working in a bit of slow foxtrot. The song’s slow tempo plays to our strengths, too, considering Sylus’s build isn’t exactly screaming ‘light-footed and airy’ on the ice. Plus, we really commit to the whole vibe: we even spend an evening at Sylus’s penthouse, watching the old Bonnie and Clyde movie to soak up the atmosphere.

"You know," I say as the credits roll, "it kinda feels like Clyde was actually just a loser. He only got famous because Bonnie was hot."

"Well, we don’t have to stick to the story exactly," Sylus shrugs. "We can make our Clyde not a loser. And our Bonnie’s gonna be hot no matter what," he suddenly adds, shooting me a look so intense I nearly choke on my mozzarella, probably having beat all the 'sexy' allegations with that one. He promptly hands me a bottle of water, and once I’m done coughing, I mutter:

"Next time you want to compliment me, maybe wait until I’m done chewing."

"Compliment?" He raises an eyebrow. "I'm just stating facts, sweetie."

Gotta hand it to Sylus: on our performance day, he actually keeps it professional and doesn’t pull any stunts that could throw me off. And yeah, we’re gangsters and all that, but the real heart of the program turns out to be the slow, sensual dance between two reckless young people who have no idea they’re racing toward a short life and a stupid death.

And honestly... it ends up feeling kinda romantic.

We’re both a little reckless and even crazy as well — no denying that. Once again, we risk a lot with a high spinning lift, and at one point I’m seriously tempted to suggest trying a hand-to-hand lift next time. Knowing Sylus, he’d be all in — the look of pure glee on his face when he hoists me nearly two meters off the ice says it all.

He sets me down gently, and I realize my knees hardly even shake anymore. Progress, I guess. Although with a partner like Sylus, you don’t really have other options except to overcome your fear of heights.

We wrap up with a slow, intense choreographic step sequence and some solid parallel spins — and yeah, we fall out of sync at the end because it’s hard for Sylus to keep up. But weirdly enough, I’m not even mad about it. After all, he’s just... him. And despite all his showboating and bravado, he still pours his whole heart into these performances just like I do, and it’d be ungrateful not to appreciate that.

So when we finish, I hug him genuinely, and he pulls me close — not too tight, like he’s afraid he might break me. And who cares if the judges scold us for slow tempo or lack of technical progress.

The most important thing is to enjoy the ride while it lasts.