#i love it when you can tell a skater is enjoying their program

[psychic-waffles]

so here for starr's beyonce program 🌟

[myjunkisyuzuruhanyu]

This is just a looong thought on skating and technique...I am sure not everyone will agree with me but does that matter to me? We can agree to disagree bc neither you nor me are judges or the ISU 🤷

No matter what you think about Shoma's jumps especially the "beloved" 4F some ppl get so worked up about today again for the 544373th time in Shoma's career but truly besides skating fans who love the technical side of it and ppl who need something to complain about anyway imo most fans and casual watchers don't really care about technique. And why is that? Because most ppl can't tell jumps apart anyway, because most ppl are not interested in whether it's "perfect" technique or not, and as for Shoma because Shoma had a brilliant clean skate, because Shoma is drawing ppl in with his performance and not with his jumps and bc Shoma definetly deserved 1st place with a margin today. So really what's all the fuss about?

Some haters make it sound like Shoma getting high scores with his skate is the end of skating. I never in my entire fandom experience saw anyone say "oh Shoma or many other skaters with similar problem does not have perfect technique I am torn away by the sport because of it"...ppl come for the pretty, for the performance to the music, and yes jumps are cool and all but this is not what makes ppl stay in the fandom or get attached to skaters! Am I wrong?

Shoma is right when he said that the emphasis nowadays is too much on jumps and skating isn't this popular anymore in the world and he wants to put more emphasis on the artistry because artistic performances draw ppl to the sport. Frankly skaters not making it through their programs without falls or skate without emotion won't help making skating more popular. In the 6.0 system no one cared for the "right" technique of the jumps or underrotations it was all about the performance and if you landed your jumps. I don't pretend to understand the 6.0 system and I also don't want it back bc this system is fairer but tbh technique even today is really not the most important part of this sport imo. If some are keen on perfect technique then let's make a jumping contest and grade who has the best technique?

Ask yourself when you watched skating for the first time, did you care for the technical part or for the artistry? Did you like a skater because of their performance first or because of their technical stuff? Could you tell the jumps apart? Could you see what is UR and not? I for sure did neither know nor cared about anything technial. Did it make you NOT watch the sport bc someone had a "bad" technique? I guess not.

Ofc it's still a sport and jumps are an important part of it and ofc you have to evaluate them in a way and yes admittedly scoring is very controversial a lot of times and ISU needs reforms and more accountability of judges BUT it doesn't mean the wrong ppl win. Do I agree on all scores Shoma or anyone else gets? No I don't, but anyone seeing the protocols sees that judges aren't exactly agreeing on everything either. There is still a lot of subjectivity and anyone denying the subjective part is delusional, but there are rules in place and Shoma is neither breaking any rules nor does he judge himself and tbh if ISU would have put an emphasis on jumping technique they would never have validated Shoma's 4F in the first place bc it's not like he was never jumping it like this, tbh it actually was even much worse. This is Shoma's 9th season and the 9th season Shoma's 4F was ratified as such...for me at this point the same and same and same discussions about technique are really the least important part of skating...and it looks like ISU thinks just the same oops

So how about enjoying ice ART skating! Like the German word "Eiskunstlauf" puts the emphasis on ART in skating and I think the full package with artistry and jumps is more important than perfect technique.

And Shoma has the full package. He has the difficulty, he has the jumps even if not with "perfect" technique, he emotes to the audience, he makes ppl feel and get attached to skating, he has great deep edges, skates at lightning speed, he's a king at upper body movement and so much more. He is a brilliant skater and ppl who fail to see it just miss out on a wonderful skater. No one says Shoma's perfect but for me personally he comes pretty close. 😌

[steddie-there]

Steve and Eddie watch figure skating together. It becomes their thing, one of the things they always do together, that they love sharing with each other.

It's the one sport Eddie actually enjoys watching, he loves the theatrics and the outfits and he has all the jump types memorized and can 100% identify each jump in action. But he's always kept it to himself, been a little embarrassed to admit he likes it. Liking any sport doesn't quite fit his ✨️image✨️.

And Steve has always loved it, knows all the major skaters' programs and scores, loves analyzing the technical elements and predicting the scores for each element as the skaters compete. But by the time he was about 7, he was being told skating wasn't "a man's sport" by his dad, so he ended up following it in secret, never telling anyone how much he loves it.

Until he gets to Eddie's new government-funded house a little earlier than planned and walks in on Eddie glued to the screen during the 1987 World Figure Skating Championships (which Steve has set up to record, since he and Eddie had plans). Eddie, who hurriedly tries to change the channel, fumbling with the remote, until Steve excitedly jumps over the back of the couch with a, "Wait, you like skating, too???" and starts rattling off who his favorite skaters are and what he likes about their programs. And Eddie just sits there, awed that Steve knows just as much as he does about this sport, that he clearly loves it just as much, and he's never wanted to kiss Steve more.

Eventually, Steve trails off when Eddie doesn't say anything, a little nervous now about how enthusiastic he was, tells Eddie that it's fine if he'd rather do something else, they had planned to go to the movies after all, but Eddie just shushes him and turns the volume up. "No way am I missing Brian Orser's short program for some dumb movie. Settle in, Steve, we've got skating to watch."

They get so caught up in watching and swapping commentary that they don't notice Wayne coming out of his bedroom to eat something before work. He watches them fondly, chuckling a little when they both jump up cheering at the scores Orser receives for his short program. Smiles softly when they settle back onto the couch, Eddie curled up against Steve's side, Steve absent-mindedly playing with the rings on Eddie's hand as they talk about their predictions for the free skate, making plans to watch it together at Steve's.

And, two days later, in the wake of an exciting free skate, both of them cheering and grinning, when Steve turns, bright eyed, to Eddie and leans in and kisses him, barely pulling away before Eddie is tugging him back in, when they completely miss the medals being awarded because they're too busy making out, well, it's just one more reason for them to love skating, isn't it?

(Am I projecting my personal love for figure skating here? Absolutely. Can't help it, watching Worlds and needing the boys to love it, too. I will not be taking criticism at this time 😅)

[macaroni-rascal]

Montreal Worlds 2024 Day 2&3

HOLY WOW! What a couple days that was. This is going to be a wild ramble and bullet point list of things that I can remember and stick out in the onslaught of skating that I've seen in the past 48 hours. It's also 11:30pm, so bear with me.

MEN'S SHORT

Roman clean program? In front of me and God and all of Montreal? Utterly wild, so exciting in the building.

Aleksandr Selevko is such a force, I enjoyed his skate SO much, what a magnetic skater.

JASON BROWN. What a serve, he is so beloved, you could just tell the whole crowd was so behind him and love him so much, it was such a stunning piece of skating.

The announcer's saying Lukas Britschgi instead of Deniss was so hilarious, and he had a lovely skate to boot.

Speaking of Lukas, LOVED him, he's so fun.

YUMAAAAAAAA. That is all.

Shoma Uno made me cry and he needs to pay for emotional damages, he had such a good warm up I was buzzing and kept excitedly hitting my friend's knee whenever he landed another clean jump. QUAD TOE TRIPLE TOE!

Ilia was there.

PAIRS FREE PROGRAM

DEANNA STELLATO THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE. The fact that she normally has such an intense reaction post good skate, but instead this time she just leaned forward, half crying, going 'oh my god' made me cry too. The roof blew off the fucking place. It was a singular moment in my life. I am just so unbelievably happy for her and all that she has achieved. Max was so good, so steady, so fucking wonderful. I am in awe of this team.

Glad M/K went back to that free program, a shame about her doubling, and wow did she ever take it hard. It's definitely their best program, for the love of God Bruno Marcotte STOP LETTING YOUR FUCKING SISTER CHOREOGRAPH EVERY SINGLE PROGRAM. DON'T ME COME TO OAKVILLE! I'LL DO IT!

So so happy for Hase and Volodin, they had such a lovely skate, a very well deserved medal, they've had such momentum all season.

Moment of silence of Conti and Macii, that was rough.

Pairs in person made me age about 15 years, so if I have grey hair in the coming months, I know who to blame. Holy shit, it's exhilarating but also tense as hell. I loved it!

RHYTHM DANCE

Hannah Lim, you're a fucking star.

Mrazkes are deeply underwhelming, like wow, they skate very small.

Lopareva and Brissaud also skate very very small. I kept looking up at the time thinking the program would be over and it wasn't. Not a fan at all.

Cpom CRUSHED IT and it was so awesome to see.

LAJOIE AND LAGHA MY LOVES! Easily the performance of the night, and not even close. So glad they got here after battling injury, so proud of them.

Gilles and Poirier are slooooooooooow. Very slow. Maybe the slowest of the last two groups. It's glaring. How have they not worked on this? They also skate small.

Guignard and Fabbri had a good lift, and a cringe everything else.

I just watched Evan during their performance and wow does he do not a lot. It's the Madi show and he's barely a supporting actor.

Fear and Gibson were there.

WOMEN'S FREE

KAORI KAORI KAORI KAORI.

Besides her heinous jumps, Isabeau created a moment, and it was lovely to experience.

Big ups to Chaeyon Kim for a solid, if boring and slightly cold, free skate. On this night, a well deserved bronze.

Leona, oh Leona. The whole crowd deflated when she fell. Such a shame.

OKAY SO CUTE MOMENT! So Kimmy Repond's dad was sitting ldown and across from me two rows, he was about 4 feet from me. I didn't know he was her dad at the start, but I knew by the end, because he was SO dad about the whole skate. Then when she skated clean, he jumped up, a man below me went and shook his hand and went "Are you her dad?" and he got tears in his eyes, put his hand on his chest, and went 'She is my daughter." I just about sobbed my brains out. So beautiful. He then didn't clap once for the next Swiss skater, which I do not fault him for, major dad behaviour.

Moment of silence for Amber Glenn.

Josefin Taljegard, I love you.

GENERAL THOUGHTS

The people around me and I all started chatting about 30 minutes into the women's free skate, by the end of it, I would go to war for all of them. Camaraderie between skating fans is very fun.

Still a giant fuck you to the woman who asked me if NikS. raped me when I pointed out to my friend he shouldn't be competing, special place in hell for you, you hot garbage person.

I got very cold during the women's free, got a hot chocolate, it wasn't good, but it saved my life, and for that I thank it.

Accidentally got up late (9:36am for a rendez vous at 10am) for breakfast with my brother, still arrived at 10:01am, I am a superhero.

Still fuck the seats in the venue, they need about 4 inches on all sides to be even remotely comfortable, including 4 more inches of leg room. We are humans, not dead sardines, for the love of GOD.

Kaori's speed and power made me gasp a few times.

I can't remember anything else but I know other things happened, ah well, it's almost midnight, I ordered late night pizza take out like a boss, I'm gonna eat that, unwind, and hopefully sleep more than four hours.

GODSPEED!

[yuzu-all-the-way]

Fantasy on Ice 2022 Shizuoka Day 3 - What do you mean that's it?

I really don't want to write this, but how else am I supposed to express my thoughts and feelings?! I've already done enough crying and shaking my head in disbelief that the 2022 Fantasy on Ice tour is over.

I was so excited for the live broadcast, I woke up hours before, ready to enjoy every single angle, program and gesture done by Yuzu. I was not thinking that those (roughly) 3 hours were the hours of saying goodbye, I thought of them as the hours of weekly joy.

Have you noticed how in the other shows when the FaOI theme song ends, Yuzu is the only one who has his fist raised instead of the pointer finger? This time, he have himself the☝️. Deservedly so.

The opening took me by surprise - I don't particularly like the song, but the choreography, the costumes and Yuzu made everything work perfectly. That shirt biting... why, Yuzu, why? We love some fan-service, but think of the casualties.

Shirt biting aside, his solo on the electric guitar was so good and fun to watch. It was unexpected and very much welcomed. About the costume, we all know how good Yuzu looks in black (his faithful UA, what would we do without you?), but the red details enhanced the entire look - not to mention the cut of the costume - I'm sure it's deliberately so that Yuzu ALWAYS has shorter hems than the other skaters.

Raison was the much anticipated highlight of this live. I was holding my breath the second Yuzu entered the rink, hands clasped together, heart beating dangerously fast. I was so nervous it felt more like watching a competition than an ice show. When Raison started playing, I took a deep breath and hoped for Yuzu to land all the jumps and to have the time of his life out there on the ice. Once he landed the 3F, I calmed down - a bit. It was an enchanting performance - so emotional, so full of Yuzu-ness. While I can understand why some reports said that it was a "sensual" program, I didn't see it as such, still don't. It's about Yuzu's struggles and emotions, it's beautiful to watch because the choreography incorporates so many elements - casualness, pain, loneliness, hope - I felt all of that and more.

This is my favourite spin out of all (Have we seen Yuzu do those arm variations before? I doubt it)

Of course it had to come to an end - his white sleeve rolled up, his eyes and face content, I wanted to see that side of Yuzu. I knew at that point we haven't seen everything Yuzu had to offer for this last performance. I was impatiently waiting for a Rondo encore - as a lot of us, I suspect, did. The artists coming on stage one by one, Dance my Esmeralda playing, I didn't make the connection at first. Lucky those who did it instantly. Then Yuzu on stage in his skates.

What is he doing on stage?! Oh, is that Yuzu performing a contemporary dance on stage?! In his skates?

Yes, that's where my mind went. I don't even know what was going inside my head, it was all YUZUUUUUU, you're back out!

Was that a cross he made or was it something else when he came off the stage? We'll never know, I guess.

Oh, the beautiful Ina Bauer, those amazingly fast spins, the beautiful Raison costume fluttering around, why is the song familiar? Why are those spins familiar? Why do I know this?! Esmeralda... dead... Paris... wait... Notre Dame... de... Paris?! YUZU?!

As if the clues left here and there throughout the entire tour were not enough to tell us that Yuzu is bringing 2012 back (I think most of you have already seen the 2012 vs 2022 posts I made, but in case you didn't, here, enjoy!).

Yes, Yuzu did as encore Notre Dame de Paris, a piece of music which him, as a 17-18 year-old at the time, admitted to not really understand it. 10 years later, the man does understand this music and the meaning of it. And he shows it to us in a heart-wrenching way. Oh, Yuzu, what have you done to my heart?!

"Yuzuru Hanyu and the artists!"

Thank you for this gift, Yuzu! We'll all cherish it. But would you mind clearly explaining why when you left, the purple sleeve was rolled up? Are you done being lonely? Has happiness finally won over loneliness?

The finale was more emotional than I expected. While I thought Yuzu would be frustrated and go for a wild combo jump (sort of his signature by now) as retaliation for stepping out on the opening's 4T, he didn't. He knelt on the ice, encouraging skaters to display their tricks. I may have been slightly disappointed, but then I thought: "It's Yuzu. He's given his 200% to us both with Raison and with NDP. What more does he need to give?! Nothing."

I was tearing up watching Yuzu take in the atmosphere of the venue, I was tearing up when he was hugging skaters so tightly, he definitely needed that. I was crying when Yuzu was breathing hard, drawing enough air into his lungs to give us a final "ARIGATO GOZAIMASHITA!"

And I am tearing up now, writing this, thankful for the experience that was FaOI 2022. Yuzu, if you're happy - as you have now declared, then so are we, your fans.

Rest well, Yuzu! You've earned it more than anyone else.

[links-art-blog]

I would like to share this really stupid funny lil doodle from months ago

[sapphicellegreenaway]

once more to see you

hockey player!aaron hotchner x figure skater!fem!reader

switching training facilities before your most important season should have been a complete disaster, but you manage to find love along the way

word count: 15.0k

warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, moderate description of injury, needles

a/n: hi! this is the first and only time i'll publish anything in relation to the men of the bau because i wanted this story to live and exist in the world in an iteration that felt was authentic and how i originally pictured it. anyways enjoy nhl superstar aaron hotchner (yes he plays for philly bc they're my dumb little team)

⭒⭑⭒

Aaron swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility. At the very least he’s going to give them a piece of his mind.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Aaron just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They destroy the ice with their toe picks and leave it in terrible shape, which makes it hard to properly execute plays that could be the difference between a win or a loss in a game. It frustrates him because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence on the rink owned by the organization that has him on payroll.

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Aaron had those experiences as well, it’s clear he never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Derek finally says something.

“Christ Hotch, relax. It’s only for another month until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they please. The grief Aaron catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place.

⭑

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs than you’ve had at another rink. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championship roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more.

US Figure Skating has taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty-one you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you could get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit was kind to you throughout the summer and fall, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy. With its conclusion all your attention is on landing higher on the podium at nationals.

⭑

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain.

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to show frustration, leaving the boards with an impression of your pick, but you peel away from them anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by, gaining speed in hopes of actually executing the element correctly. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your centre of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground and the entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Everything throbs, and it takes an inner strength you didn’t know you possessed to not take your skates off and throw them in a garbage can. You’re tired of the regression that’s plagued you since coming to train here. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and your head hangs low as you skate over to the woman who looks just as defeated as you feel.

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut — nothing is working. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is just about up. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better, but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at.

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you notice it’s the hockey team that the building is named after. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks to be your age is sending you daggers. His anger confuses you, and somehow fuels your own because there’s no reason for him to look at you like that.

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. It will do you good to work through the things you’re feeling with someone who can actually provide strategies for coping. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is in just over a month, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck.

A couple of hours pass with the pair of you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste.

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it to make money.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness.

⭑

Aaron doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong about the situation until Gideon suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault.

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” the captain says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. Hopefully taking the moment to talk to the youngster will help him understand that other people are allowed to struggle. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes, we need to be at the top of our games.”

He gives Aaron a pointed look and taps the raven-haired winger with the nearest stick “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? That things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Aaron didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you he’s going to apologize.

⭑

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your endurance — too often have you been out of breath at the end of a performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals.

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed the time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic — every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your nerves settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things.

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree, a small smile breaking out on your face. “You know, I hate it here slightly less than two weeks ago. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting.

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Aaron sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of music he presumes belongs to you from inside the pad. He had begun to think you were never going to reappear at the rink, but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Aaron immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s slightly nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology? No one has ever rebuffed him in the manner you had, not even opponents on rival teams, and he hates the idea of someone smearing his name in the media.

Aaron knew you were good. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, he knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically — your scores reflect those facts. Regardless, Aaron is surprised how much better you seem when he’s watching you from the corner of the rink.

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than a hundred percent. The music drives you forward in a way he’s never seen before — you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed Aaron finds himself holding his breath. From watching footage of this program on the plane home, he knows you’re about to attempt the hardest element in it. The quadruple salchow is one of the most difficult jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season from comments online. You’re completing the jump before Aaron even realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program with a reserved awe and intrigue. Top-quality athletes recognize greatness, and he now understands everything the team has been trying to tell him for months — he just had to see it to believe it.

When the music stops and you float back to reality from wherever it is you go in the moment to take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else — the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances of him being here to make another snide comment are hight, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that doesn't have glass so you can hear him over the sound of other people’s blades scraping the ice.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water.

Aaron’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but does his best to recover quickly. After all, he’s more than deserving of it. “I wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t very, uh, professional of me. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles, reminding you he’s human and trying to figure out life the same way you are. “And you’re really talented.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, not quite ready to drop the frosty tone your voice holds, “But it’s fine. I had just been kicked off the ice for a week when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Aaron!” he responds. “Aaron Hotchner.”

⭑

A sort of truce befalls the two of you. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest because preparing for nationals is the only thing that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Aaron is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands. It’s becoming clear that the lives you lead are more similar than he ever could have imagined.

Despite there being no reason to do so, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Reid and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after their practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Aaron swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, no one believes him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Derek certainly tries on numerous occasions. It’s Aaron’s steely resolve and deadpan expressions that normally save him from public ridicule, but when the guys aren’t looking he sneaks you a small smile to signal he isn’t upset with anything you’ve done. What he doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats. The official NHL app now sits on your homescreen, nestled between various social media platforms.

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program.

“It’s really nothing, Hotch is just curious about the sport and I’m the most available one for him to latch onto,” you sigh, hoping she doesn’t question you further. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on singles and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself when climbing up the ranks, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their performance. After a few more failed attempts you cut your losses and head off the ice, more than exhausted.

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the locker room door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Aaron, and he’s holding an ice pack.

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you.

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before he speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked. “Didn’t realize a hot shot like you would actually pay attention to what I do.”

Aaron smirks and shrugs with a nonchalance that seems a little too forced. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by his understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Aaron notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything.

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Aaron doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Aaron,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home.

⭑

Something shifts between you after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘Hotch’ and nothing else, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. You’re sure there have been times where he wanted to go home but stayed seated on the cold concrete bleachers to offer his support on a hard day. Once Aaron’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days.

Aaron doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. He understands, he really does, but sometimes he worries you don’t care enough about him to actually put work into the friendship. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside yours. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice.

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Aaron brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

He’s been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but Aaron’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs.

“You’re fucking joking. Aaron, you could be somewhere warm and enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Aaron snorts.

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Hotchner,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do your own. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Aaron yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Aaron’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly.

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you know that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off — you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Aaron to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight.

“What’s up?” Aaron’s tone is relaxed and casual, the complete opposite of how you currently feel. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and make a reply impossible to choke out. His tone changes instantly when he realizes your distress and all activity on the other line halts — the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. I don’t think I can do this. Why did I ever think I could do this?” Now across the parking lot and faced with the task of driving home, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat.

“Of course you can, you’re the only person I know that could do it,” he reassures, “I’ll meet you at your place,” The light jangle of keys lets you know Aaron isn’t going to take no for an answer. You don’t fight him, not having the energy to defend your normal pre-competition ritual of radio silence with the rest of the world, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment.

Aaron must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Aaron ignores them and hikes your bag higher on his shoulder. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize he stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Aaron slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

After unlocking your door and settling, both of you flop onto the couch, chopsticks in hand. There’s a blanket of silence over the room as you eat, but it’s far from awkward. Countless hours have been spent just like this, both of you caught up in your own heads and thinking about your futures in sport for there to be discomfort at the lack of conversation. Aaron’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let him pull you into his side and turn the television on to some basketball game.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the commercials switch on at the end of the first half.

Aaron sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “It’s what friends are for.”

Slowly you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Aaron listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he holds you tighter, making sure you’re comfortable and providing a space to let it all out . Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Aaron’s words make it easier to believe in yourself.

The two of you spend the night on the couch, end up falling asleep, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off in the morning. You can’t stay in the little bubble Aaron created for the two of you — the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over the fantasy you wish never had to dissipate. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking was the least of your worries, but the gesture is sweet and you aren’t quite ready to say goodbye yet. When you reach the airport entrance, Aaron pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since the meteoric rise to friendship

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Aaron jokes, handing you your suitcase.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Aaron a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you don’t want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting.

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble.

He wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously, with only the gleam in his eyes letting you know you aren’t getting scolded. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.”

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport, suitcase trailing behind you. Aaron stays parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Aaron’s classic rock playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole way.

⭑

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing — Aaron’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute — he watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just knowing Aaron’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed.

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Aaron. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to him frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to.

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Aaron asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home.

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate.

Aaron hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” He confirms you do in fact skate after 11:30, and conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Aaron recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year.

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before catching a taxi to the rink in an effort to not be late. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters.

The time between practice and your warmup is spent pacing the halls of the dressing and equipment rooms, doing your best to keep your mind off the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Some of the other girls send you odd looks as you pass, hair wild and running shoes untied, but you know you’re doing what you have to. After what feels like decades you finish getting ready and go to find Brenda and go over any last minute tweaks. You find her walking down the hall towards you, holding your phone that’s already lit up with an answered call.

“It’s Hotchner,” Brenda says as she tosses you the device.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Aaron laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know, I just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask, slightly started.

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Aaron stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling that’s taken root in your bones. The television cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Aaron about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping.

⭑

Aaron tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat.

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Aaron is beyond excited to be in Salt Lake City. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches.

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and thick gloves on your hands. Aaron notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Aaron sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors, doing poorly to hide the nerves he has on your behalf.

⭑

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. No one is in the hall with you but it feels too small, as if the walls are in danger of closing in. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates.

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s show time.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score.

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, which won’t do you any favours with analytics people, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had anticipated. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.” She means well, but you aren’t convinced.

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small screen of your phone while you get undressed, too upset to continue being rinkside like some of the other competitors. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. The playlist Aaron made you blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be, and it’s working as a substitute for the fact he isn’t here with you. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy, there's a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended.

The door cracks open slightly, and the head of your best friend peeks out from around it. “Fancy seeing you here,” Aaron says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his open arms. Aaron’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him.

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated to see him, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah and not with the family and friends he doesn’t get to see during the season.

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” There’s a gleam in his eye that hints at something more but you’re just so happy to see him you don’t care about his intentions. Aaron’s smile matches yours as you shake your head.

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Aaron into answering all your questions about how he got here you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you, which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Aaron.

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Aaron, who lets you direct him out of the arena, leaving a gawking crowd behind, and into the cab he called while you were wrapping up.

It’s a silent ride, as Aaron knows you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. There’s no pressing you to talk during the elevator or as you struggle to unlock the door with the temperamental room key you were given. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom.

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair.

“Nowhere yet,” Aaron says, looking up from the article on his phone. “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Aaron smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos he bought and going down a conspiracy theory wormhole on YouTube. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You earnestly tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap like an idiot every time you landed a jump.

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright, so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Aaron pokes fun at your beanie and thick scarf, and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Aaron’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip.

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Aaron pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps in a playful manner that has a smile creep onto your face before you could help it.

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Aaron doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey.

⭑

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel as comfortable as possible for tomorrow given the circumstances. Aaron executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel, you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Aaron pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily for the both of you.

You wake before both your alarm and Aaron. It takes you a second to get your bearings and realize you’re pinned against his body, though it’s pleasant and you truly don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Aaron for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake.

“Hotch,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Aaron, come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

He listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with Aaron still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot he wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye.

“Will I see you after practice?” Aaron asks, voice still gruff with sleep.

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Aaron nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Aaron to keep you company, but you do the best you can to push the thoughts of him out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, asking polite questions about what the two of you got up to last night before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of skating to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Aaron.

Don’t want to disrupt your incredibly rigid pre-comp routine (I’m mostly joking), but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you.

Included is a link to a Spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing he regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before.

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice.

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Aaron thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves.

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates.

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited, and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet if things go poorly.

Aaron is standing at the edge of the boards open to spectators during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time in between your skate really getting into the zone. So much hinges on the four minutes of ice time you have left.

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you jog lightly in place to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your shaking hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd.

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel every beat of the music, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Aaron’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with him. The music fades from your consciousness slightly, but you’re still transporting the crowd to the fantasy world you created. As you strike your final pose the music fades out completely and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same dramatic manner you chirp Aaron for doing when he celebrates goals.

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your gear in the dressing room. You know Aaron is the one who threw the Gritty toy — no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team outside of the training facility. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey, Aaron replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features.

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly, heartbeat so pronounced in your ears you have to strain to hear. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda.

“Come on,” she laughs, “Aaron’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of his name you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Hotch!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point.

“Hey, golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Aaron’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching the final skater increases your anxiety tenfold — she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase.

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash on the small screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda evenletting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Aaron, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him.

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Aaron’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Aaron finally pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months.

“You’re a national champion,” Aaron mumbles, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received.

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper back, so much love in your voice it’s threatening to spill over.

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Aaron. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen — you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about.

⭑

“A, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Aaron’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home, but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list.

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left, Aaron!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy — just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Aaron’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for US Figure Skating to announce who they’re sending to the world championship.

“How’s practice been lately?” Aaron asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were immediately shuttled into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Aaron’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them.

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Derek told at practice that morning, and you giggle as it gets recounted with flailing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Aaron play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights.

Aaron stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a few bumps in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whatever it may be. Aaron’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop.

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Aaron corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with him into downtown.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.”

Aaron’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor have any announcements been made on social media. In response to the radio silence you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience and necessity to be early to imaginary deadlines he set himself..

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Aaron’s ridiculous Axl Rose impression. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated — most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Aaron included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time he won’t be around.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Aaron lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door about his proclivity for cheesy gestures.

Aaron greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles that the onlooking girls understand all too well.

There was no reason for you to be nervous — everyone is incredibly kind without their significant others around, just as Aaron promised. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon as you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you and Aaron got together. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years.

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and training your eyes to follow Aaron around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t heard anything about assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement until this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut.

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?”

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Aaron to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall.

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, keeping it relatively chaste in fear of getting chirped by his teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Aaron sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as if the two of you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?”

Having Aaron be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Aaron presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is.

“That’s my girl.”

⭑

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer to the rink know you’re a world class athlete.

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again, kiddo.”

You do try again — fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel is getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Aaron had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly.

“Hotchner!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Aaron smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your general direction.

“I’m wounded, babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I can call you whatever I want?” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it because investigating him never leads to anything good.

Aaron watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Aaron to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted, and since you’ve gotten together Aaron has become rather fond of them as well.

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March, and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Aaron. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much.

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal.

Aaron laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror.

It’s almost a week later when you see him again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team not wanting to push you too hard before taking off for Europe. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence — some of them no doubt want a comment from you about worlds and how you expect the competition to go. Aaron has no idea you’re even there until long after practice ends, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey there, all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger.

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Aaron obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates.

“Fuck off,” he yells at Morgan and Reid, the two of them hollering so loud people can probably hear them all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, “and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lay on the couch.

“The chariot awaits, m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city.

Aaron’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment — instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Aaron’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Aaron is playing you can’t help but smile.

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Aaron figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when he pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift.

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Aaron’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible.

“What was that, sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable.

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Aaron flawlessly — like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Aaron has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities.

For the first time in this final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off.

⭑

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition — off ice training, multiple practices a day, and press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Aaron, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Aaron could be by your side like he was at nationals.

The morning air is brisk as you exit the rental car US Figure Skating provided and head for the arena doors. It’s quiet while you get ready for the first of the day’s three practice sessions, but as soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is — your skates feel the way they should and you didn’t forget any gear at the hotel. It has to be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you’ve almost convinced yourself everything will be fine.

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you — all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep.

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off from a regular fall until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front.

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain, which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly.

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay.

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. A string of tears fall from your eyes as the stretcher you occupy is wheeled into the building, mostly for lost opportunities but also because your nerve receptors are beginning to recognize pain again. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse. A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep.

There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel once you’ve been cleared.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Aaron. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you.

“There’s my girl,” Aaron whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Hotchner. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset he looks. “I’ll be fine A, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done, Aaron. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some medication before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring Aaron for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself.

Brenda holds you that night as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. People steer clear of an angry-looking girl in a wheelchair, and the two of you get through customs incredibly fast. Aaron’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.

“Welcome home, baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot, and most likely will be for a while.

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down.

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Aaron drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Flyers management is allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can exist on your own for a few hours. Aaron’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower, and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so he keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Aaron’s help.

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Aaron sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Aaron’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there.

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Aaron reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater.

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Aaron smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

⭑

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Aaron keeps you going. He insists you do your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain.

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Aaron pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength.

“Ready to do this thing?” Aaron asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

You nod enthusiastically and let him lead you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Aaron steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Aaron joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again.

“I do believe you promised me a few laps, lover boy,” you wink.

“Yes ma’am,” Aaron giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Aaron.

⭒⭑⭒

consider reblogging and giving feedback if you enjoyed! it helps a lot x

[yoifanficrecs]

december recs

here are the fics i read this month that i recommend :)

Gliding Toward Dawn by Allekha - G - 4k (complete) - cw: mention of animal death (vicchan)

summary: yurio yells at yuuri after the short program of the sochi gpf, not the free. (can you tell i love yuuri redemption fics)

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables by Agasthiya - T - 54k (complete) - cw: alcohol use, mention of (possible) animal death and death of background characters

summary: "As the Grand Prix Final banquet draws to a close, Viktor witnesses a sudden and terrifying event: everyone in the world has mysteriously disappeared. Everyone... except for Yuuri Katsuki, the drunk man he's danced with all evening and who has been fully occupying his mind."

What you should know about dating a man with children by SassySalchow (diedraechin) - G - 2k (complete) - cw: alcohol use

summary: yuuri brings the triplets to a competition. victor has a crush, and is convinced yuuri is their father. very cute!

never tasted rubies by ebenroot - T - 16k (complete) - cw: alcohol use, discussion of sex

summary: yuuri somehow becomes a radio host at his college and victor keeps calling during the shows. non-skating au

Mikhail and Vacation Yuuri, or How to Catfish the Love of Your Life by beebers - E - 42k (complete) - cw: explicit sexual content, alcohol use

summary: "When world-famous figure skater Victor Nikiforov plays hooky in America after winning his fourth World Championship, he doesn't expect to meet Yuuri Katsuki, a Japanese study abroad student who doesn't seem to realize just who Victor actually is. But Yuuri's got secrets of his own, and what starts as a simple vacation fling turns into something much more significant for each of them."

a great desire to love by lily_winterwood - T - 21k (complete) - cw: major character death, natural disaster

summary: "For some strange, inexplicable, fantastic reason, Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are trading places." a 'kimi no na wa' au in which they still skate

Language Barriers by Galloping_Monroe - T - 237k (complete) - cw: alcohol use, implied sexual content, anxiety, depression

summary: a college au, but they are in an exchange group where they study in a new country every month. yuuri and victor meet in january and travel as their relationship progresses

all the types of dating by igneousbitch - E - 8k (complete) - cw: explicit sexual content, mention of infidelity, alcohol use

summary: yuuri and victor are geologists on a research trip with their students. they are best friends, and when one of the students asks if they're dating, miscommunication ensues. very angsty love it

happy new year! i hope you enjoy these

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I absolutely LOVED your nessian hockey player x figure skater fic! (concerned, emotionally closed off Nesta is so adorable) You're a v talented writer and I would legit read any nessian modern au you write even if it's just about them watching paint dry. also i think itd be cool if u wrote another fic like this, except this time, nesta eats ice and gives cassian a scare.

Oh my gosh! You are too sweet. Thank you so much! I promise to not actually write a watching paint dry fic. But I hope you enjoy! :)

Part One // Part Two

When Cassian steps through the doors of the rink, the place is bustling. There are little kids, all decked out in brightly colored and sparkling outfits, giggling as they run across the lobby. Parents are chatting away, to-go cups of hot drinks perched in their hands. Coaches in windbreakers are walking through stretches and pointers before the competition starts. He takes one the programs held out to him by the smiling girl at the door, making his way further inside.

Luckily, a quick glance around and Cassian finds who he’s looking for. Rhys is standing with his arm draped across Feyre’s shoulders who’s speaking animatedly with Elain. He joins them with a smile, and they chat about their respective weeks for a little bit before everyone begins to move into the actual rink. Once in the rink, they settle in on the bleachers, and soon the competition on the ice is in full swing.

They watch the different skaters take to the ice, various versions of lilting music filling the rink up to the rafters with its tinkling tones as skater after skater flows and glides through their routine. Half a dozen skaters have taken their turn at the ice when Cassian spots a familiar head of golden brown hair. His smile grows wide, tugging easily across his face, as he watches her approach the doors to the ice, sliding off her skate guards.

“Whoo! Nesta! Let’s go!” Cassian cheers, hopping to his feet and cupping his hands around his mouth. He can feel the eyes of the rest of the crowd on him, but he doesn’t care.

“You know this isn’t a hockey game, right?” Rhys quips from his right.

“Fuck off,” Cassian shoots back before turning to watch Nesta skate out onto the ice. “You got this, Nes! You’re going to kill it! Let’s go!”

Nesta’s eyes snap to Cassian’s as she slides into position at center ice, her face a mask of indifference. But even from this distance, Cassian doesn’t miss the slight uptick to the corner of her lips. He’s seen the look a number of times, especially directed at him. The feigned annoyance when he knows deep down she loves it. So Cassian just blows her a kiss.

“Do you mind?” a voice cuts in from behind Cassian. When Cassian turns around, he finds a man staring up at him with an annoyed expression.

“That’s my girlfriend.”

“Good for you.”

“Just sit down, Cassian,” Elain says from Cassian’s left, gently tugging on his arm.

Cassian grumbles but listens, taking his seat just as the music starts and Nesta begins her routine. He watches with rapt awe as Nesta moves through her twists and jumps, arms and body moving in time with the music as she cuts across the ice. Cassian had watched Nesta practice and perfect this routine, offering supportive applause for each jump she landed and break time kisses, so he knows her big triple flip is coming up. He watches her shift her weight to her inside edge, toe pick digging into the ice for a second before she launches into the air.

As Nesta’s body continues to twist, Cassian can tell that something’s off, something isn’t right. His heart catches in his chest as watches Nesta land the jump awkwardly, her ankle twisting before she spills onto the ice. Cassian’s on his feet in an instant, and it takes all his willpower and clenching his fists to ground him to stop Cassian from rushing down to Nesta’s side. Time seems to stand still, every second ticking by too slowly and Cassian’s breathing too loud in his ears, as he watches, waiting for Nesta to get up.

Slowly, Nesta pushes up and back onto her feet. Cassian watches the wince that mars her face as she puts weight on her left foot, carefully making her way off the ice. Without thinking twice, Cassian is squeezing past those seated around him, quick steps carrying him toward the locker rooms. He realizes belatedly that he doesn’t actually know where he’s going, so he just paces up and down the hall. He clenches and unclenches his fists, rakes his fingers nervously through his hair. Eventually, he shoves his hands deep in his pockets, leaning against the wall with a sigh.

When Nesta hobbles out of one of the locker rooms on crutches and takes in Cassian waiting for her, she rolls her eyes. But she can’t hide the fondness buried in those smokey grey irises. It makes Cassian’s heart squeeze adoringly.

“It’s just a sprain,” Nesta explains. “The worst part is going to be not being able to skate for a few weeks.”

“Good thing you have an amazing boyfriend to help you during those healing weeks,” Cassian says, carefully tugging the crutches out from under Nesta’s arms. He sets them against the wall before scooping an arm under the Nesta’s legs and lifting her up bridal style.

“Put me down, you brute,” Nesta protests, swatting a hand against Cassian’s chest. “I told you it was just a sprain, and I can walk just fine with the crutches.”

“I don’t care. We’re going to go back to my dorm, and you get anything you want until you’re all better.”

“What if I want to watch really bad and cheesy romance movies?”

“Done.”

“What if I want to order in food that’s really bad for us? And extra chocolate cake?”

Cassian grimaces slightly at the suggestion, but he smiles anyways. “Also done.”

Nesta narrows her eyes on him, humming as if she’s mulling over the information. After a moment, she wraps her arms securely around Cassian’s neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls away, her lips are slanted into a smirk.

“Maybe I should get injured more often.”

[kanrax-blog]

Since @raininyourblackeyes planted the idea of MDZS ice skating au in my head and I can’t get it out I decided to write my ideas out since I don’t have time to write full fanfics right now. Bear in mind that I am no skating expert only an amateur with a lot of missing information and deep love for this sport 🖤

- personally I see LWJ as single man skating from a young age in the very traditional way. He’s accompanied by a qin music and his costumes are always pristine white. He’s considered something of a prodigy in the skating community. His uncle is his trainer and expect a lot from him. LXC is skating too but doesn’t build his future on this. I cannot see LWJ skating in pair mostly because I don’t think he would enjoy physical contact between skaters. I imagine him consumed by the music, looking otherworldly on the ice. After his routines people throw plush rabbits on the rink 🐇

- WWX started to skate when he got fostered by Jiangs. JC was skating years before him (I imagine that YZY started him on skates by the time he was like 3/4 and Yanli doesn’t have any talent) and he’s good just not good enough to really stand out. WWX on the other hand started when he was around 9 and he’s a fricking natural on ice. JFM took him for JC training and asked him if he wanted to try, WWX went on the ice and just started to slide like it’s no big deal. YZY was furious but that’s also when JC started to improve since he got a competition. JC doesn’t like to experiment and thinks that it’s best to leave decisions to his trainers and mother since she is a fallen skating star (or maybe a ballerina after her prime idk)

- WWX is loving every minute he gets to spend on the ice. It brings him so much joy and he doesn’t really care about competing with others. Don’t get me wrong he enjoy winning but he enjoy improving his skating even more. Especially since he doesn’t really care about skating the proper way. He experiment, mixes styles, basically putting his creative brain loose and trainers hate it. He want to have a say in the music, choreography and doesn’t compromise easily. He constantly pushes himself just because he enjoy it. I imagine that he would change his jumps in program in the middle of tournament just because he feels like he can pull them off.

- Wen Ning is skating with his sister Wen Qing except she’s studying medicine at university and get less and less time to participate. Wen Ning is talented but shy and get stage fright easily. When he meets WWX for the first time it was at empty ice rink where WN was really showing his skills and Wei Ying as the sunshine he is started to compliment him and encouraging him so now they are basically besties

- WWX and LWJ met at intense skating camp when they were 15 and Lan Qiren was the main couch. At first LWJ couldn’t understand just why can’t WWX skate like any other sane person. He’s talented so why does he feel the need to show off so much and to do things differently. Truly shameless! But you know that he was watching him like a hawk because the fascination (crush) was strong.

- My golden core transfer equivalent in the skating terms although not ideal (I don’t see how golden core transfer could translate in au) would be WWX injuring himself on ice so that JC can take his place in the competition. Why would he do that? While media love the narration of two brothers (even tho WWX wasn’t adopted) on the ice rink the truth is that he spend years listening to YZY telling him that JC skating career is the most important thing and that he should be grateful that he even gets to skate.

-I’m getting tired so this is the last one for now but imagine that wangxian are skating to wuji for their gala performance Yuri on Ice style because they just happened to elope between one competition and the second

[neutronice]

Yuri on Ice FANGIRLING

Yup. I had to make a separate blog just to talk about this show. Because holy crap.

The characters and the relationships and the growth and the arc (and the HOTNESS) just murder me.

First watch, you’re there with Yuuri (Katsuki), seeing his confidence slowly flower as he gets surprised by Victor, his hero. We see his precious awkwardness as Victor lays it on thick. We see his hard work day in and day out, knowing he has the physical stamina for ice skating. We see him stop insulting those who look up to him, and come into his own in skating. We also get to watch him figure out (and accept) that he’s interested in men (especially Victor), accept physical affection, and finally become completely unphased by Victor’s unbridled love for him. Yes, Yuuri still slips up into his unconfident habits but ultimately he bounces back, because he starts to internalize Victor’s faith in him.

Then... Victor. Heartthrob through and through and used to sort of walking on a bed of flowers. BUT... everyone seems to think his break to coach Yuuri is some sort of adventure undertaken out of boredom. And hell, maybe at first it was, but then Yuuri surprised him, both by asking only to eat katsu-don with him, then blowing his mind with the Eros short program. Really soon Victor is figuring out how to motivate and bring out the best in Yuuri, and finding out that he has a natural knack for it. That he enjoys it. It makes him brush off nearly every glib attempt to make him stop the experiment and come back. It’s only when he’s watching his rivals push themselves as hard as they can to surpass him that the competitive spark comes back. But, it’s not something he’s going to do without Yuuri. No question those rings were engagement rings to him. No question he has found the love of his life. No question that once he is done competing, he will return to coaching (and enjoy the crap out of it).

And honestly? I just adore tsundere kittens like Yurio. The petulant teenager who uses insults to bond with people he likes or respects. Who uses his kicks instead of uses his words. Who... has the world’s proudest gay uncles in Yuuri and Victor. The fact that he went from telling Yuuri to “just retire already” to basically saying “I will make you regret retiring every second I have a skating career” was just... perfect. You know Yurio shows up at their apartment with food and then tells them he was just in the neighborhood and hated even being there but just happens to have enough pirozhkis for three hungry skaters and “is already there so he might as well watch a movie...” while Yuuri and Victor look at their adopted nephew and just smirk.

It’s been a while since I watched a series that made me need to say this many things. To feel this many feelz. To conjecture about when Victuuri’s “first time” was (my headcanon? After Yuuri returned from Rostelecom, yes there is a fic ricocheting around in my head about how it happens).

It’s no wonder Yuri on Ice has 40k fanfics. Time for me to get divin’ in.

[mari-rosa-skiess]

omg i love your writing sm😳❤️ I JUST REALIZED THAT IM THE SAME AGE IF YURIO AGH ITS A GREAT DAY TO BE 15😩👌 also, may i request yurio who meets the reader in japan (like he met her maybe after viktor chooses his program) and she's a skateboarder so like she accidentally skates into him! i feel like it'd be really innteresting to see an ice skater and a skater together as a couple haha (bonus if she's won national skateboarding competitions😎) have a great day and remember to stay hydrated!❤️

-

yes !!! i love this idea !! i went on a hiatus again, so sorry it’s VERY late, i hope it’s worth it though LOL

i’m personally not a skater, so i’m sorry if this isn’t accurate to how people skate :(

-mari<3

Navigation

Warnings: None I believe, just some swearing!

Pronouns: she/her

Words: 1.5k

-

You always enjoyed skateboarding. It was your favorite activity since you’ve been younger. It was kind of the way you were able to let stress go and have fun, especially since you are in your mid-teens. Things get rough at age 15, but there’s always skating there to help you.

You were skating down the streets one day in Japan, your (h/c) hair was flowing in the strong breeze since it was a significantly colder day, it was winter after all. There was snow on the ground, but only on the side of the roads and sidewalks, but it was all pretty melted.

You closed your eyes for a second because it felt like the wind was making your eyes shrivel up, but a few seconds later, you fell to the ground with a small ‘hmph’ leaving your lips.

You opened your eyes to see a shortish boy standing up, he looked pissed to say the very least.

“WHY WEREN’T YOU WATCHING WHERE YOU WERE GOING?!” the blond feminine boy screamed.

You stood up and dusted off your clothes, for some small pebbles and dirt got on you when you fell.

“I could say that same about you,” you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO RAN STRAIGHT INTO ME!” He screamed, although it was kind of difficult to understand him because of his thick Russian accent, especially because he was screaming.

“Well, you could’ve simply stepped out of the way when you saw me skating towards you, you could’ve simply stepped aside when I was like four yards away,” You pointed out.

“It seems you also were not paying attention to your surroundings,” you spoke in a snarky tone, smirking.

He went to say something else to defend himself, but he was dumbfounded, not to mention exhausted from the strenuous training from figure skating.

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to argue today,” he sighed, picking up his bag he had dropped.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you replied, dropping down your skateboard.

After you got a closer look at his face, you realized he seemed familiar. You’ve seen him somewhere, but you’re not sure where. Maybe in a store? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Where are you going?” you asked him, slowly skating by him while he walked.

“Figure skating practice, Viktor doesn’t like it when I’m late,” he softly said.

“What’s it to you?” he added, slightly raising his voice.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere,” you stared at him blankly, but still paying enough attention to the control you have on your skateboard so you don’t lose balance and topple over.

“You’ve probably seen me on TV, I won Grand Prix gold,” he stated.

“Oh, Yuri Plisetsky, that’s where I’ve heard of you,”

Yuri blushed at how you said his name, it sounded so beautiful the way you said it, almost as beautiful as he found the rest of you. It didn’t take him long to notice your features after he cooled down from his baby tantrum.

He just looked away and went quiet, not saying anything else. After a few minutes, you guys arrived at the rink. Viktor was waiting by the door.

You picked up your skateboard and just held it since there was no reason for you to just stand by it.

“Yurio, you know how I feel about you being late,” the tall man with silver hair stated in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled under his breath.

Viktor’s eyes flickered to you and a grin appeared on his face.

“Oh, I see, you were out with your girlfriend! Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?” Viktor excitedly exclaimed.

Yuri’s face turned red, so did yours.

“No, we just met a few minutes ago,” you shook your head.

“Yeah, this bitch carelessly bumped into me and knocked me over,” Yuri crossed his arms.

“Bitch?!” you asked.

“Okay! I see I was wrong,” Viktor nervously chuckled.

“Why don’t you guys say bye to each other then you can meet me inside, Yurio?” Viktor suggested.

“Okay, fine,”

Viktor said goodbye to you before walking back in the rink, going to get his skates on before Yuri walked in.

“Well, hopefully we don’t cross paths again,” you said irritated, dropping your skateboard back down.

Yuri let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Yuri was surprised by himself. He never apologizes for anything, it’s just part of his personality to be a dick, but here he is, apologizing!

“What was that?” you asked, turning your head.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke up.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m just a dickhead, you’re not a bitch,” Yuri looked down, blushing.

“Alright, I forgive you...I think,” you said, questioning your own words.

“I’ll see you around,” you spoke.

“Wait, what’s your name?” Yuri asked you.

“Oh, right, it’s (Y/N),” you smiled.

He was shocked that you even had a beautiful name.

“Okay, see you later,” he flashed a small smile before walking into the skating rink.

You skated off, actually feeling good about having a new friend. You did find him cute though, and you were sure he’s sweet when he’s not mad. You kind of mentally beat up yourself for not getting his number, but hopefully, there will be other opportunities.

---

It’s been a few days since you bumped into Yuri, and you still thought about him occasionally, as did he. You decided to skate by the rink to see if he was there. Since he couldn’t drive, there was no way to really know if he was there unless you looked in.

The place was rented out, so if it was closed, the doors would probably be locked.

You picked up your skateboard and walked over to the door and pulled on the handle. A small smile appeared on your face when it opened. You walked inside and heard music playing.

You didn’t want anyone to see you because you didn’t want anyone to think you were creepy, so you kneeled down by the part of the skating rink wall that didn’t have a window and watched through the window part.

Yuri was elegantly skating around the rink, his routine already seemed flawless - to you at least - you weren’t used to seeing many people figure skate. He actually didn’t look annoyed for once, but he did look sweaty.

Very sweaty.

You looked down and noticed your skateboard started rolling away from you. You silently cursed under your breath before trying to grab it without making any noise. You ended up grabbing it, but you accidentally launched it because you lost grip of it while you were trying to set it up against the wall.

It made a loud clattering noise before rolling and hitting the wall. Since the room was so big, it echoed and caused Yuri to mess up his routine.

Viktor facepalmed and turned off the music.

“It was great until that noise distracted you...what even was that?” Viktor asked, looking around.

Viktor and Yuri both skated over to the exit of the rink and stepped out, looking around the lobby. You were hoping they wouldn’t see you despite you being literally four feet away from them. 

Viktor saw you and you flashed a nervous smile before standing up.

“Yurio, you got a visitor,” Viktor spoke before walking back onto the rink.

Yuri looked over at you and he surprisingly wasn’t mad.

“Sorry for messing up your routine,” you apologized, looking really nervous.

“Oh... it’s just slightly annoying, I can always redo it,” he blushed.

“It was really good before I distracted you though,” you smiled.

“Oh, thanks,” his face reddened.

A few seconds of silence passed before Viktor walked back off the rink.

“Yurio, take a short break,” he said.

Yuri nodded before taking off his skates while still standing.

“Do you know where your board went?” he asked.

You looked around on the floor before spotting it, you walked over and picked it up.

“Why do you skate so much?” Yuri asked.

“I- Uh- It’s a hobby, and I’m also a competitive skater...with skateboarding, obviously,” you nervously said.

“That actually sounds interesting,” Yuri spoke.

“That’s surprising coming from you,” you smiled.

“What do you mean?” he asked confused.

“I mean, you are a dick,” you smirked and crossed your arms.

He rolled his eyes with a small frown.

“Joking!” you exclaimed, giggling.

“Anyway, we should hang out sometime if you’re up to you,” you smiled at the blond.

His face went back to the red shade it was previously at.

“A-Alright,” he stammered.

You pulled a small slip of paper out of your pocket that you wrote your number down on pre-hand in case you ran into him.

“Here’s my number, I’m free most of the time, just text me,” you smiled at him.

He took the slip of paper from your hand and put it into his pocket.

“Alright,” he smiled.

“I’ll let you get back to what you were doing, see you around!” you exclaimed with a smile while waving as you walked out.

“Bye!” he shouted.

Let’s just say, he did text you a lot when he got home.

[sugar-petals]

Caro would you rank figure skater's butts like you know... in a 'Caro way'?

it’s gonna be another thread. but be careful what you ask for: this is a sport that trains the glutes and thighs like mad. even the skinniest guys walk around like a coke bottle. do you survive a preview?

(^ the reigning king mr. yuzuru hanyu, i’ll talk to you about this infamous booty man in a minute)

PLUS it’s like in formula 1: by virtue of physical laws, the best are all between 5′2 - 5′8. which means visual proportions are in their favor. so brace yourselves.

PS - i rate from 1-10. i also include a frontal picture so you see the skaters properly, this thread has some pretty intense contortions and behind views as you’d expect 😂 and we also gotta enjoy how good-looking they are.☝️

let’s start with a guy who does the heavy duty jumps so you can see how figure skating shapes someone. 

^nathan chen - very underrated yale student booty, come on this is literally america’s ass! nate is pretty amazingly built in general, i wanna hear more people talking about it. when gravity is mean to his handsome face because he’s spiralling into outer space again, the chebooty steps right in for him. yes wow, it’s so big and photogenic. the waist when it twists, spectacular. 10/10

^shoma uno - the cute pup seems to be popular on my blog. you guys like him? legit. very smol guy, very curvy, very dynamic skater who comes to life on the ice. and no, this sparkly fella is not a pre-schooler. his coach and the whole figure skating world will disagree with that but shooms is 23! his thickness is legendary and has everyone around the world shook. the s-line is pretty incredible. what can i say. 10/10

^javier fernandez - retired matador, but left a legacy for sure. still a big deal after being a commentator on the world championships and everyone loves the guy so i include him. superjavi is taller and slimmer and you’re probably looking at his costumes instead (this guy did everythig in the book, halloween skills 10/10). regardless, he has a nice side profile and it looks great in motion! the angle in the picture above, chef’s kiss. 7.5/10

deniss vasilijevs - ah, everyone’s tall smart blonde latvian crush. has grown his hair into a ponytail recently so extra points. everyone who trains with stephane lambiel (pictured above) seems to be really thick hence shoma looks like that as well. deniss, not much to say, it catches your eye what’s not to like! solid. he skated a tango recently so man, he got it all. 9/10

boyang jin - he’s hilarious, i love him. like nathan: underrated big posterior! he likes eating all kinds of cakes at figure skating gala dinners and said fact grew a cake on him therefore, jin magic! he also channelled major peter parker booty vibes in his spiderman costume as well. give my favorite geek some more credit everyone, jin looks great! 10/10

jason brown - US figure skating’s number one cutest sunshine. jason lights up the world with his positivity and great body, fantastic jabooty! i mean, look at that picture man. 8/10

keiji tanaka - OOF! a skating veteran with an amazing shape. the pictures speak for themselves again. the waist, the thighs! handsome keiji is a beast. friends, i don’t have to say more. 10/10

keegan messing - a favorite canadian with SUPER emotional skating that always has a personal theme. and you can tell from a mile away that keegs is thick as hell. he wears tight clothing and is mega flexible, jesus. he recently married and i wanna congratulate his wife lane — seen above, i haven’t seen a brighter smile on a bride — on her wonderful short king. 10/10

mikhail kolyada - another underdiscussed skater who’s pretty damn good and puts on a sizzling show! mike is a perfect blend of adorable and handsome. you won’t believe it, he’s 26. well-endowed with a backside, mother russia got something to offer. the kolbooty — it’s just right. look how proportionate and that curve. 8/10

junhwan cha - the utter pride of south korea and an ever-improving amazing talent, junhwan is tall, slim, and gorgeous. to reiterate how his coach (brian orser) has summarized it at worlds yesterday: “beautiful!!” you can’t expect an elf-like 180cm giant who models for VOGUE to have a huge ass. it just wouldn’t fit into the whole elegant impression. i’ll give a low score but know that junhwan is perfect. 3/10

daisuke takahashi - a living legend that HAS to be included, the oldest on the list! dai is 35 and has to be mentioned here since he returned to figure skating! he got back so. (10/10)

yuzuru hanyu - the preview guy! yeah: whew, he vibes different. collect your jaws, everybody. the best figure skater out there obviously has a breathtaking silhouette and the juiciest royal buns. which do pretty crazy things in his routines and when they’re clad in his many fancy pants causing twitter to collapse. mind he often wears padding because his jumps are dangerous af so yuzu will gently fall. but still, everyone in the fandom knows that the yubooty is shapely and way too smacktastic to ignore. 

yuzu knows, too, his ass is seemingly in every camera and he bends himself over like nobody’s business. imo, and all his colleagues are saying that, the waist kind of steals the show even more. his torso is entirely flat so his hips stand out even more. ugh, nice thighs, too. full package (literally, no wonder he’s so confident), as always he goes the extra mile. 113/10! (112 is his short program high score and he always breaks the record so i award 113)

...hard to believe yuzu is such a smol cutie pie. 😌🌻

[miraculouswolf99]

The Language of Flowers

I love Chloe Salt and while this is not the most action-packed of one-shots, I hope you all appreciate the effort that I did to research each and every meaning of the flowers.

*****

Lyon and Vallia Garden.

The first, a teen that would be described as having a heart of ice and a gaze that could freeze you solid. His twin sister, on the other hand, was pretty much said to be a flower garden made human with tree sap instead of blood.

Yet the two stuck to each other as if they were one of those pairs of conjoined twins. The two were opposites in personality, style, and even how they talk. But even then, they were as close as a brother and sister could be.

Nobody in Ms.Bustier's really had any idea about the two foreign students in their class. Of course, they knew that it was part of a program for students of different countries to experience other cultures. But it was almost like having two ghosts in class. They would come and go each day, silent as ever, and it was like they were never there at all.

There wasn't really much of a problem with them, especially since the first day they were there was pretty much the only time they had ever spoken. But they spoke only to give the class brat, Chloe, a good tongue lashing that they all thought she deserved when she tried to make the two as submissive to her as Sabrina. But since then, the two were so silent that most people that were not in the classroom thought that they were mute.

"They two of them are such a mystery," Nino says, a lot of the class hanging out in the classroom during a break since an akuma attack was recently stopped.

The twins were not in the room for reasons no one else knew.

"A mystery wrapped in an enigma and stuffed into a riddle," Alya added, the reporter in her really frustrated.

"They are not as bad as you guys think," Adrien tells them, a bit tired after his fight as Cat Noir.

"How can you be so sure," Alix crosses her arms. "They don't talk to anyone but each other and never in a language we understand."

"I've seen Lyon at his archery practice sometimes when Kagami and I are at fencing," Adrien says. "He probably just has high expectations expected of him like Kagami and me."

"It is probably the same for Vallia, as well, then," Marinette agreed.

"They could, at least, make an effort with us," Kim said.

"My calculations say that there is a less than five percent chance that the two will speak with any of us," Max says.

"They need to learn their places," Chloe sneered. "Bowing at my feet."

"Why are you even here, Chloe," Alya put her hands on her hips. "Everything that ever comes out of your mouth is about as trashy as that dumpster akuma last week."

It had been a garbage man that was having a bad day. Apparently, his daughter was sick, his partner in the truck would not stop singing opera, and then one grosser bags he was trying to put in the truck ripped open. All that combined made him a prime target for Hawkmoth. Luckily, Ladybug, Cat Noir, White Wolf, and Beautifly managed to stop him from turning Paris into one giant landfill. Which, ironically, was his villain name. Landfill.

"My father will hear about..." Chloe tried.

"Shut up, Chloe," Marinette yelled. "Maybe the reason they don't talk to us is that they think we are all just as under your pathetic thumb as Sabrina."

"I'd rather be turned back into Timebreaker than be her minion," Alix stated.

"Adrikins, you going to let them talk to me like that," Chloe tried to whine.

For once, Adrien didn't even try to defend her. He turned away from her, shaking his head. To say that the young model was sick of her never-changing attitude would be the understatement of the century. He did a lot of thinking after the Despair Bear incident. Chloe would never change how she was. She has gotten away with it for too long to ever even want to change. She especially didn't change after being turned into Queen Wasp not too long ago.

"They've only been here for a little over two weeks," Marinette reminded them. "Maybe they just need more time to adjust."

"Having friends would help them adjust, girl," Alya put her hand on her best friend's shoulder.

"There is an 86.5 percent chance of them adjusting better with friends by their side," Max said, Markov floating by his head.

The class would have talked more, but they heard the sounds of two people chattering away in a foreign language coming toward the classroom. And since Lila was still MIA since her first day in class, that meant that it had to be the twins. Everyone quickly scrambled to get into their seats and not look like they had a class meeting without the entire class.

When Lyon and Vallia walked in, the silence that had fallen over the classroom seemed to be a lot worse than being caught in a class meeting. But the Greek twins simply walked to their seats in the back and sat down for class to start up again.

"Vríkate ta sostá louloúdia," Lyon whispered to his sister. Translated: Did you find the right flowers.

"Me píre lígo, allá to ékana," Vallia whispered back. Translated: Took me a while, but I did.

The two silently had smirks on their faces.

*****

The next day, the class was unbelievably shocked by what they saw when they walked into the classroom. There were bunches of flowers on all of their desks. A different flower was on each of them. No two desks had the same flower. Except that Ms.Bustier's desk seemed to have a flower bunch with one of each blossom in it.

"Geia," the Greek twins greeted them, standing at the front of the classroom.

Most of the class was too shocked by the flowers to notice that the two of them had actually talked to them.

"Was there some type of flower akuma and we didn't know about it," Alya looked disappointed that she might have missed an akuma attack for her blog.

"Pardon," Lyon crossed his arms.

The class suddenly realized that the twins were talking to them. The two of them were also each holding a few roses in their hands.

"Are you two actually talking to us," Alix asked.

"Eínai tóso dýskolo na eísai oraía," Lyon says to his sister. Translation: They make it so hard to be nice.

"Páre, aderfí," Vallia responded. Translation: Behave, brother.

"Class, sit down," Ms.Bustier instructed. "Lyon and Vallia have some things that they have collecting in order to share with us."

"Flowers," Max asked, confused.

"We basically grew up surrounded by nature," Vallia says. "Plants can be a language all on their own. You just have to know how to use them."

Lyon took a small sniff of the roses he was holding.

"Take roses, for example," he said. "They perfectly describe us. Roses are said to represent people that are quiet and traditional. Quite fitting for the two of us, isn't it."

The class all sat down in their respected seats. Adrien and Marinette were probably the most interested ones of the class, even if they were all curious. Except for Chloe, of course.

"We spent these last couple of weeks getting to know you guys from a distance," Vallia explained. "It is one of our family traditions to give flowers to someone when they enter the family. By marriage or birth."

"We decided to take that tradition and make a classroom version of it," Lyon says. "Each of you has been given flowers that match your personalities. It took us a while to find the right ones and get them here. Luckily, we have a very wide range of flora at our family sanctuary."

"You spent over two weeks getting us flowers," Alix raised her eyebrow.

"Can there really be a flower for each of us," Mylene wondered out loud.

"You have them all in front of you," Lyon looked a little annoyed.

Vallia did have to admit that she was a tab annoyed as well. While they did not know just how much nature meant to them as a part of their lives, the doubt was still annoying.

"We figured this would show that we are more than two foreigners that like to keep to themselves," Vallia says.

"Keep in mind that I still like to keep to myself most of the time," Lyon said, Vallia knowing how much her brother likes the quiet.

"So, what do these flowers mean," Adrien asks.

To his surprise, neither of the twins pulled out a list or anything that could help them remember all the information. They must really know their stuff.

"We can start with Mylene," Vallia says, the small girl blushing. "We gave her peony flowers. They represent those that are kind and also like small gestures."

Ivan was particularly shocked by that. He had only gotten together with Mylene because she read his song as a poem after his second time being akumatized as Stone Heart. She was not up for the big-time rock and roll version he wrote it as, and just liked it as a simple poem or soft song.

"Ivan's was simpler to find," Lyon said. "The carnation flower has always been used to describe down-to-earth people. Ones that are very grounded."

The other members of Kitty Section looked at Ivan, knowing how that was very true. Ivan had always been the first to calm down any fame that might go to their heads after the Captain Hardrock incident and their performance. Well, after Luka that is. Juleka's brother was basically a saint when it came to being cool, calm, and collected.

"We chose poppies for Alix," Vallia explained the red flowers in front of the skater. "The traits that they represent are those that are creative and bold."

That was definitely Alix to a "T." Her art was a mix of both since she did spraypaint street art. And her natural athletic abilities did make her do some pretty bold things.

"Max and Kim, I thought, were the easiest to match," Lyon said. "Max has the aster flower, which represents those that are smart and devoted. Kim has hydrangeas, for those that are athletic and team players."

The class was starting to see just how much the two had worked on their "project."

"I, personally, liked to say that I enjoyed finding flowers for Rose and Juleka," Vallia smiled. "Mostly because I am holding one of their names."

That got a giggle out of the pink-dressed blond and an eye roll from Lyon.

"Get on with it, Vallia," Lyon says. "We still have actual classes to attend, sister."

The class had to hide groans, especially since Bustier was in the room and they did not want to insult her by accident.

"Fine," Vallia sighed. "I thought that tulips matched Rose because they are for the bright and cheerful. Juleka's are also my personal favorite flower, the lily. They are for ones that are quiet but also inspirational to others."

Juleka tried to hide her face in her hands, knowing that she was blushing. Rose was over the moon, for herself and her best friend. If there was any flower that was spot on for anyone in the class, it would be the one that Rose got.

"Nathaniel and Adrien ended up having the flowers that tie as my favorite," Lyon admitted. "I chose the iris for Nathaniel because it is a flower for daydreamers and the imaginative. Orchids are Adrien's because they represent those that are sophisticated, refined, but have good hearts."

Both mentioned boys blushed. While Adrien did have more friends than Nath, both of them were naturally quiet and not used to such praise. Yes, Adrien is a model, but it be a miracle to hear any sort of praise from his father. And Nath was only just starting to come out of his shell thanks to Marinette.

"Sabrina was a tad bit more difficult to match," Vallia almost did not want to admit. "But when you learn about who she is, she is optimistic and also tends to be a morning person. Those are the traits of the daisy."

Sabrina was shocked, as were most of the class. As usual, Chloe didn't care. She had been sneering at the flowers in front of her since she had sat down. Sabrina was internally jumping up and down in excitement. No one had ever tried to get to know her, especially after she became friends with Chloe.

"Alya is a very modern person while Nino also very much in the tech universe, so they were also a little difficult to translate to our olden tradition," Lyon says. "But we did think that Alya best matched with the daffodil. It represents those that are very social and also love friends and family. Nino's flower is the sunflower, a blossom for the warm and those that tend to be very happy-go-lucky."

Both of those descriptions perfectly matched the two. Alya was probably the most social person in the entire school. She had to be to run Paris's most popular blog.

"I thought that Marinette's was very much telling about who she is," Vallia says, Marinette a little embarrassed. "The calla lily is for hardworking people, but also represents people that can be said to be quite rare as well."

Marinette was now bright red as she hid her face in her arms, Alya patting her back. But you could see the look on the blogger's face that she was enjoying someone telling Marinette how special she was. The girl was too humble for her own good.

"And last, Chloe," Lyon did not look happy about it being his turn to talk when it came time to tell the brat about her flower.

"Saving the best for last," the blond ruined the nice moment the twins had created. "About time you two start giving me the respect I deserve."

That was when Lyon got the most ice-cold look on his face that the class had ever seen. Rose even shivered a little bit, as if she was actually cold from the look he gave the brat.

Adrien remembered seeing him give that look only once more. It was last week when he was at a photoshoot after school. Lyon and Vallia had been in the same park as the shoot and had heard the photographer becoming rather aggressive with him. After a few words about acting like a model should and not a teenage boy, Lyon got in the photographer's face and gave him that very look. He had not said one word, but that look was enough to make the man weak in the knees. He had not spoken to Adrien again the entire shoot and a different photographer was assigned to him soon after that day.

"Alright, here is what your flower says about you," Lyon's voice could freeze the Atlantic. "The gardenia flower represents those that like living in a life of luxury. Those that like the lifestyle of the one percent..."

Chloe seemed to be happy with that, but Lyon almost smugly popped her bubble.

"Basically, it's the flower for spoiled brats that need to get taught the meaning of the word 'no," he finished.

[tojiaesth]

ice queen. two.

toji fushiguro x f!reader

summary: figure skater!y/n once found solace in the scratching of her blade against the ice, the aches and pains of her body proof of her dedication. after breaking world records and reaching the top she so desperately climbed her way to, she’s at a loss. a meeting by chance, broken promises and guarded walls, y/n gets more than she bargained for by one introspective man.

warnings: mentions of panic attacks, dissociation, angst

word count: 1k +

A/N: this chapter is a lot longer, enjoy!!

series masterlist -> current -> three

“Ladies and gentlemen, women’s singles will commence after a two hour break. Please take your seats and avoid blocking the entrance. Recording the skaters without a license will result in legal action-”

As the tannoy repeated announcements, you found yourself staring out of a window, eyes focused on the rainstorm that was relentlessly battering the cars outside. The wind whistled ominously and you couldn’t help but take it as a sign. You shook your head, your brother and Shoko were supposed to be here hours ago but they weren’t replying to your texts. You were anxiously staring at the clock, the most important event of your life was about to happen and no one was here.

Your phone rang, startling you out of your thoughts and you picked it up without even glancing at the caller ID.

“Y/N! I am so sorry, I’m trying to get here as fast as I can - the roads are blocked. Please tell me you haven’t started yet- Fuck! You bastard! What is your problem? Stop beeping at me!” She sounded flustered and you could hear the continuous blares of cars and the pattering of the rain against the wind shield.

“Is everything okay? Are you safe?” You replied, the weather had forecasted rainy weather but this storm had taken everyone by surprise. You were surprised they hadn’t cancelled today’s event, considering it was only the pair and singles skating but the rink was packed with people. You had finished your short program an hour ago with only the free skate left - your most important one.

“I’m safe. Just irritated. These cars behind me seem to think I’ve caused this fucking storm. When are you starting? Is anyone with you?” She fired questions at you while simultaneously cursing under her breath at the rain which had somehow become even heavier.

You watched as a swift flash of lightning illuminated the room, it’s bright colour causing gasps and raised voices. You decided not to tell Shoko that she had missed one of your skates earlier, not that you minded, it wasn’t very entertaining.

“Yeah. Akira is here,” You lied, hoping it would lessen her guilt. She was easily upset and the fact that you were here alone, with less than two hours until your last Olympic programme would definitely weigh her down. You ignored her other question.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief, “Okay. I hope you aren’t freaking out too much. I’ll update you when I can on my whereabouts, the GPS says I’m about an hour or so away but it’s not calculating in the storm. Love you, say hi to your brother for me!” The phone ended and you placed it into your back pocket. Still deep in thought, your phone rang twenty minutes later. You brought it to your face, eyes still transfixed on the frequent lightning.

The caller ID stated it was your brother and you sighed wearily and answered.

“Hey sis.” Akira sounded distracted on the phone and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh hi. Are you and Kou coming soon?” You questioned, confused at the robotic voice in the background.

“Listen, Y/N. There’s a major problem at L/N enterprises, some fucker scared off some investors and we’ve lost almost 25% of our stocks and it keeps dropping. We’re not sure what’s happened but Dad is super stressed and needs my help. I-I can’t make it. I’m at the airport but it’s all delayed, I’m honestly fucked.”

He was talking fast, a habit he had when he was nervous. You expected to feel more pain at this new predicament. Instead, numbness washed over your body and your eyes fixed to the clock. He said something about Kou being the one who drove him to the airport but you’re not listening.

An hour left. You had to get ready.

Akira had heard nothing but silence, his hands running through his hair. He had failed his sister. His mother had rang him minutes earlier in tears that their father was inconsolable. He had tried to explain that you needed him but they cut him off promptly, ‘their livelihood was more important than Y/N’s silly skating’, his cortisol levels rising at that statement.

“Y/N-.”

“It’s okay,” You softly responded, you knew the position he was in but deep down you wished he’d put you first when it came to your parents. Your eyes welled with tears to your surprise and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “I’m sure you’ll sort out the problem with ease, Aki. You were always good at that stuff.”

Akira was worried. He never thought he’d wish that you’d scream or cry at him or even react. At least then he’d know what you were feeling. But this voice, the inflections and tone suggested you were tired. That hurt him more.

“I-is anyone with you?” He was afraid to ask, praying that you had people, you were a reserved woman that had little friends due to your complete dedication to the sport.

“Yeah, Shoko is with me.” There was a few rain drops that had caught your eye. You pretended they were having a race until they reached the bottom of the window sill, dissipating. You were pretty sure you were in a state of dissociation, your eyes flitting to random objects. The hallway was stimulating, a sensory overload with its bustle of people and the tannoy that had continued repeating information.

“...and good luck. I know you’ll do us proud. I love you.” Akira finished his speech and the call ceased.

You walked towards the female changing rooms, suitcase trailing sadly behind you. A waft of perfume and sweat filling the air, you noticed a gaggle of girls taking selfies in the corner, their eyes littered with flawless makeup and their hair slicked back. You focused on the colours of their outfits hitting your retinas, the clash of sparkles, sequins and beads moulding together. The girls now looked blurry, your tears acting as a shield.

You found a quiet spot and opened up your suitcase, some things clattering on the floor. You took out your makeup bag first and got to work.

The makeup look you had planned weeks in advance was simple, a softer more ethereal look with minimal eye shadow. You would accentuate your cheek bones and nose area, applying concealer to hide your eye bags, finishing with light mascara and your signature glossy lips. Your outward appearance contrasted the inner turmoil you felt, the foundation you used was your absolute favourite, giving you an unblemished finish. You looked like a confident, happy young woman. You weren’t.

You put on your hand sewn costume, cautious that you would smudge your makeup but after years of practice you were a pro. Swarovski crystals were applied meticulously to your neckline as well as various parts to flatter your waist. It had sheer sleeves and a small part of your back was exposed. You had chosen to wear an all white skating dress, with stretchy leggings - that looked very much like tights - to match, the feel of your spandex oddly satisfying you. You pinned your hair up with the masses of hair pins stuffed into the pockets of your suitcase, content that your wild strands were cooperating and quickly put on your skate covers. You were done. You clattered towards the mirror, the blades of your figure skates covered by guards, allowing you to move freely without damaging them.

You looked stunning.

The same girls that were giggling and taking pictures fell silent when they noticed your stiff posture, gazing at you in awe. You were glad that in spite of how shitty the day was going, you would be able to keep up your reputation of being perfect.

You heard your phone buzz again, but you took no notice and continued studying yourself in the mirror, searching for any missed imperfections. You did a quick 360, glued to your dress in case you missed something.

“You look beautiful.” One of the girls spoke up, a thick accent dancing on her tongue and your eyes turned to her.

“Thank you, as do you.”

You walked towards the phone buzzing at the bench and found a few missed texts.

Coach: Y/N, I am waiting by the door of the arena. The women’s singles free skate has started and there are two women ahead of you. Please keep your eye on the time and meet me when ready so you can warm up.

You replied that you would be there shortly and cast your eye over the second text that was sent a little while ago, accompanied by four missed calls from Shoko.

Shoko: Y/N, the traffic wardens are making us go back. The storm is getting worse, I don’t know what to do. I tried to call you, I’m really sorry. Please forgive me and skate as hard as you can. You’ll win gold with ease. I love you.

You switched off your phone and shoved it into your locker, tidying up and stowing your suitcase away in its slot. You walked out, focusing on not having another panic attack.

Legs feeling weak you glanced at the many signs and took in the direction of the arena. Nearing your destination, you bumped into a young woman, startling you as you apologised swiftly.

“Oh. My. God. Are you Y/N L/N?” The girl asked, eyes wide and shocked.

“Uh, yes?” You answered, unsure of her intentions.

The girl just stared, attempting a sentence but amidst her profound stuttering, you couldn’t quite make it out. You could see she was a figure skater like yourself and you unconsciously admired her costume. It was a brilliant red, with eyeshadow to match.

Another girl unexpectedly appeared behind her, eyes twinkling with amusement and automatically you could see a strong resemblance. The girl was dressed more casually, glasses resting on her nose with a neat pony tail swinging behind her. You noticed two more men, perched on a bench and curiously looking on at the three of you.

“Mai, breathe. Megumi you owe me, I told you she’d choke.”

One of the men came closer and you saw it was actually a young boy, his dark hair dishevelled with a fed up expression on his face.

“Ah shit.”

The other man on the bench looked very similar to him, older, his hair slightly more neater but messy nonetheless.

“Um...are you...okay?” You paused, the girl whom you know knew as Mai was still frozen, mouth opening and closing.

“I...you...you’re...so beautiful.” Mai brought her hand to her mouth, cheeks tinting red at her comment. She had a million things she wanted to say and had no clue why that was the first.

You returned her blush, looking down at your feet. You got this comment all the time but somehow it seemed more sincere from this girl. Before you spoke, the older man chuckled from the bench and your eyes flitted to him and then back to Mai.

“Thank you. Um a-are you in singles or pair skating?” You asked politely, stammering slightly under the gaze of the older man a few feet away.

“I-I’m in singles. I think I’m after you actually, which is totally unfair because how am I gonna top anything you do? Like I’ll skate but I bet everyone in the crowd will be thinking about your performance and the judges will be too distracted and then I’ll freak out and forget my entire program and-”

“Y/N! There you are! Come, you’re on in about fifteen minutes and I wanted to talk to you,” Your coach appeared, his eyes stern at the people around you.

Mai stopped rambling after a nudge from her sister and as you moved away, you saw the look of utter admiration shining in her eyes. You almost wished your parents looked at you like that.

“Good luck!” She suddenly yelled, louder than she intended.

You turned around. Your dress swishing as you spoke, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the crystals, as all eyes fell on you.

“You too. I-I’ll look for you out there.” You smiled, somehow you felt like this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see them.

You moved gracefully in your skates, making you seem taller than your coach as he fell beside you, both of you curious as to what the sudden whispers behind you were.

“God, I’m so embarrassing. Why did I talk so much shit I should’ve asked her for tips. ‘You’re so beautiful?’ I’m never gonna live this down am I?” Mai tried her best to lower her volume as she groaned, unaware that you could hear.

“Nope.” You heard three voices agree with each other and you stifled a laugh.

Your coach side eyed you, your hand was covering your mouth, hiding your smile and despite the fact that you were both running behind schedule he was glad to see you happy.

“So...I’ve given you enough pep talks to last a month and I’m well aware of your capabilities so we don’t need to do any last minute discussions about your technique. We’ll get you warmed up on the ice soon. How are you feeling?” He asked gently as the door to the arena was now beckoning you, it opening occasionally where the sounds of cheering was evident.

“I’m nervous, Akito-sensei, but...I think I’ll be okay.”

You were being honest, your coach could see right through you so there was no point in lying. You couldn’t wait to see his face when he realised what you’d attempt, your stomach began its familiar twist of knots but you knew once you stepped onto the ice? All you’d hear is quiet.

Meanwhile your coach had been internally debating whether to ask you a question. They were stood near a corner where families usually gave the skaters one last hug or form of affection before they performed, a door allowing them to grab a quick seat into the arena before they began.

There was usually one or two people for you but today he saw no one. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at his watch, it was time you warmed up. The unspoken question hung in the air as you began going over your four minute program in your head and your coach agreeing with himself that triggering negative emotions would do you more harm than good.

“Let’s go.”

The arena was packed. You had already shed your blade guards and were currently warming up on the ice, gliding gracefully and cracking your knuckles. The soft music they decided to play had been drowned out by the overlapping chatter of voices and you concentrated on your breathing. You struggled to look up at the crowd, the bodies becoming smaller and blurrier and the mixture of flags now one big array of colours. For a moment you wanted to look for your brother and then remembered he wasn’t here. You continued, stretching your legs where appropriate and being careful not to collide into your fellow skaters. You saw Mai but she was focused, eyes closed and her hands clasped together to say a prayer. You looked away, swerving and moving your neck side to side. That was enough. You headed back and loud cheers sounded before you, noticing a large Japanese flag at the front of the barrier, held by four women.

“Good luck, L/N-san! We believe in you!”

You waved and gave them a smile, bowing before meeting back with your coach at the edge of the rink. The familiar robotic voice announced that everyone should remove themselves from the ice and that the free skate programme would recommence shortly. Your nerves jumped, moths flapping in your stomach as you reached to bite your nails.

“You’ve got this Y/N. Remember what we talked about? Control your breathing. You are doing this for no one but yourself.” He reached for your hands and held them together, squeezing them lightly.

“Our next skater represents Japan. Y/N L/N.”

You drowned out the cheers, the applause, the whistles and the occasional shouts of reassurance in Japanese as your heart rate sped up, your ice skates planting themselves on the ice like they belonged.

The women’s free skate would last a total of four minutes and had been partly choreographed by yourself. The idea was the skater could choose their own music and sequence of jumps or anything else they wanted to add.

You loved it because of that freedom. Your short program earlier had a significant number of jump elements, spin elements and step sequences required that made it your least favourite. It had little room for errors, in which skaters relied on clean performances and high component scores to impress the panel of judges.

As usual you had outdone yourself, coming first but what was the point? No one cared.

You shook these negative thoughts and brought yourself back to the moment, the cheers now unblocked.

Your signal to start the music would be when you got into place, your legs now slightly crouched and your arms raised in front of you. The music choice was Tchaikovsky’s ‘Swan Lake’, opting to skate to Op 20, the most recognisable part of the composition. This would be one of the most difficult skates of your life. Your outfit matched that of the white swan, intentionally causing a contrast you hoped would speak to people.

Your heartbeat was loud, already thumping under your dress as you anticipated the music.

In the instant you heard it, you started, ears attentive to the music. You could hear the blades cause the faint screeching noise you found solace in and started your initial step sequence. You counted, ensuring your moves fit the piece and you were transported back to your home rink in Kiyoto, practically smelling its distinct fragrance.

Your first jump was approaching, a combination triple toe loop and as the orchestra picked up, you calmly ensured your form was steady, striking the ice with your toe pick and jumped. Your time in the air was just as quick as the landing and you remained steady, advancing towards the edge of the rink. You could hardly hear the cheers. Unnerved, you carried on and your second jump was completed with ease, a quadruple flip and as you landed, sweat dripping down your back you kept up your smile. The crowd roared, it was rare for men to attempt quadruple flips let alone women and you could feel your pinned hair loosen a little. Two minutes had already passed and your combinations of toe and edge jumps were beginning to wear you down.

Still, you hadn’t even started. As you estimated that you had one and a half minutes left, the last thirty seconds were dedicated to the start of the piece’s climax, your quadruple salchow was perfect and your eyes shined. You could do this.

The last of your step sequence commenced, your legs lifting high and spinning until you slowed down. This was it.

With fifty seconds on the clock you threw yourself into a quadruple axel, completing four and a half revolutions in the air and without missing a beat you finished it with a quadruple salchow.

You landed.

The most attempted and controversial quadruple axel had been done. By you. Not only that but your attempt at the most quadruple jumps that were landed cleanly in a programme had been successful.

The room was so loud you thought it would shake from the volume, and with your cheeks red you slowed down with the music and couldn’t help the tears that flew down your cheek. You finished in a serene pose, thoughts racing. The singular lilies - your signature - were littered across the rink as you bowed and skated towards your coach.

“I did it, Sensei.”

Your coach silently wiped away his tears, hand still on his mouth where you could see it shaking.

Had you angered him?

“Y/N. I am so proud of you.”

He hugged you hard and you knew the sight of the both of you blubbering and trying to speak was hilarious to the crowd. He took your hand, his face showing that you had a lot to explain and you walked towards the allocated seat to await your score.

You smiled for the cameras and bowed to your Coach, and then to the crowd, mouthing thank you and sat down.

“The score, please.”

The previously roaring crowd quietened down. The silence was nerve racking and you fiddled with a lily you picked up.

“Y/N L/N has earned in the free programme, 223.20 points and is this seasons best. They have a combined score of 330.43 points and is currently in first place.”

You gasped, that was the highest combination score of both the short and free programmes, let alone the stand alone score. You were now an olympic and world record holder and your lips trembled.

As you stood upon the podium, an hour later, as your score hadn’t been topped, you fingers wrapped around the gold medal you had been given.

“Congratulations, Y/N. I knew you could do it.” Mai was stood next to you, her silver medal glinting in the light and to her surprise you hugged her. The cameras flashed as you brought her closer,

“Your skate was beautiful, Mai. Let’s talk later.”

She grinned and her eyes returned to the camera, it’s unrelenting lense now slowing down as they allowed families in.

“Mai? Oh my god, my beautiful daughter. Move! My daughter needs me!” A man came through shoving reporters and suddenly lifted Mai off the podium as he cried, spinning her around. Mai’s laughter drifted through the arena.

Startled, your eyes made contact with the same three people from earlier, as well as an older woman. They all seemed very amused.

“Oh the apple of my eye, I am so proud of you. Here you, idiot with the stupid hair. Take a picture of me and my daughter.”

The poor reporter looked bewildered and you couldn’t help but giggle. You stepped off the podium, weaving around people and attempted to sneak off.

You took a breath, eyes watery. You had done it. But...why did you feel so sad? The emotion coursing through you was grief? You didn’t know why, it was confusing. You wished Akira was here, or Shoko. You stared at the floor, the excitement and adrenaline was leaving you quicker than you thought.

You felt a pang as you heard Mai playfully scold her father for being embarrassing. More than anything, you wished your parents were here.

Reaching for your phone, you dialled your mother, only to be met with her voice mail.

“Hi Mom. I hope everything is going okay with the business. I just wanted to tell you and Dad that I won. I wanna tell you all about it...um...I love you...call me back?” You nervously ended it, agonising over your message and took a deep breath.

“So you win gold and you’re not even gonna milk it?”

A voice said and your head snapped to the familiar man from earlier, green eyes twinkling with curiosity. He had one hand in the pocket of his suit, the other gripping a bouquet of flowers as he raised an eyebrow. His dark hair flopped slightly over his forehead and you had noticed a sharp scar over the right side of his mouth, placed on the edge of his lips. He was stood just behind the reporters, where it was calmer and you couldn’t help but admire his beauty.

You quickly wiped your cheeks, hoping it just seemed like happy tears.

You were hoping no one would notice you, especially when they called for family pictures. It would’ve been pretty pathetic to explain that your coach was the only one here. And yet, his calm aura and insightful eyes seemed to enrapture you that your mouth moved before your brain.

“Well unfortunately, there’s no one here for me to milk it to.” You regarded him silently, awaiting his reaction.

He showed none. He stepped forward, close enough that you could smell his cologne, a rich masculine scent that strangely reminded you of woods. He was tall, you came up just short of his shoulders despite the fact that you had skates on. His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t make out.

“Here. I’m sure Mai won’t miss it. You deserve it,”

He paused, seeming to ponder over something before he placed the large array of flowers in your arms. He leaned in closer so his breath was now tickling your ear.

“Honest opinion? Figure skating isn’t really my thing, but the whole time I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Dumbfounded, you didn’t even thank him, nor ask his name before he melted into the crowd.

———————————————————————

tags: @kriswu46 <3

A/N: wow, apologies if there any figure skating inaccuracies (unfortunately i’m not one). also, this is the piece i imagined y/n to be skating to! (we’ll pretend it’s four minutes long)

thanks for reading <3 n sorry for being a tease by introducing toji and then ending it LOL next chapter will be out very soon !!

[kittyprincessofcats]

Worlds 2022 - Women’s SP

I’m late to everything again, but idc. Thoughts:

- My girl Mana did so well! I’m so glad her Olympic experience didn’t completely get her down. And it was probably the right choice to play it safe here and just go for a 2A. Congrats on a really nice SP!

- Tzu-Han Ting was really great and I really enjoyed her skate. And yeah, it definitely felt like they robbed her.

- I loved Olga Mikutina’s SP! The music, the choreography, the new costume, and just the vibes of the program were so cool! I’ve said before that I have a thing for goth programs, so yeah - this was right up my alley, loved it.

Also, skating aside for a second: Olga was born in Kharkiv in Ukraine and I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been to focus on training while her hometown is currently being bombed. She’s also been vocally protesting against the Russian invasion since it started (she and Severin Kiefer made the hearts with the Urkainian flag that somes skaters were wearing in solidarity).

- A few years later, the male announcer still hasn’t learned not to mispronounce “Nicole Schott” as “Nicole Schrott” and I wonder when someone is going to tell him that “Schrott” means garbage/junk in German and that he’s been announcing her as “Nicole Garbage” this entire time.

- Mariah getting a small medal is cursed, I hate it. They overscored her so badly here. I really don’t get what was supposed to be so great about that skate. (And seeing people say that they’re just overscoring other white skaters more when the Russians aren’t here... yeah, I can’t help but agree.)

- Haein was really lovely and her score seemed harsh.

- I still dig Karen’s SP (like I said - goth programs ftw). Glad she performed it better here, but what a shame about the popped Loop.

- Wakaba’s scores will never stop making me angry, huh? It’s awful how it’s always the same people who get robbed. I do agree with the negative GOE on the 2A (and with calling it as a 2A) and with the F(e) (I’d have maybe gone for F(!), but yeah) - but the score still seems way too harsh. The PCS in particular is an absolute joke. And it’s telling how the judges don’t always give proper edge calls to other people, but here they suddenly can.

- Kaori’s skate was great! I’ve got to say this Gladiator SP really grew on me - I wasn’t a fan at first, but now I really like it! I’m super happy for her and she really deserves the title after getting robbed of it last year and getting robbed of silver in 2019. Her reaction to the score in the Kiss and Cry was absolutely precious. That said... and I hate to say it, but I do think she was overscored. Not in comparison to how the Russians are scored these days of course, but in comparison to how other Japanese skaters - in this case Wakaba - are getting scored, it’s noticable that Kaori is the one who has the Fed’s support. I just wish JSF had the energy to politic for all their skaters like this.

- Alysa’s skate, to my own surprise, might have been my favourite of the bunch this time. That was just a really enjoyable performance to watch on a purely subjective “do I enjoy watching this” scale. I love the music and outfit and she really seemed to have fun with it. I wanted to hug them when they started crying afterwards. She’s really been through a lot this season. Also they should have definitely placed ahead of Mariah here and I don’t get how they didn’t. (Oh right... racism. Yikes.)

((Also, Alysa is just a really sweet and likable skater that I want to root for, you know? It’s pratially just their adorable and infectiously happy personality, partially that I just really respect seeing someone actually go from a quad jumping kid to a more mature skater who doesn’t just focus on jumps, and partially also that she’s been a sentimental favourite of mine ever since I witnessed a whole bunch of Russian fans vocally root against her at the Junior GPF 2019 in Turin - just because Alysa was Kamila’s biggest competition at the time and maybe because of some Cold War BS as well. If you’d sat in that audience and heard the way a bunch of adults started to loudly roar and cheer when a 13-year-old didn’t win, you’d have started to root for that 13-year-old skater out of principle, too.))

- Young’s skate was another candidate for my favourite program of the event - amazing! Idk why, but this was the most I’ve ever enjoyed watching her skate this SP. So far, I’ve preferred her FS this season while just feeling “meh” about the SP, but this time I loved it! And I’m not entirely sure if that’s because she skated it better than before, or just because I’m not as tense watching this as I was during the Olympics - probably both. But yeah, great skate - should have also definitely placed ahead of Mariah.

- Loena was great and it’s nice to see a small fed skater do so well here! And she’s definitely a fighter to do so well with an injury. And again - a precious reaction in the Kiss and Cry. That said, she was also scored too generously here. The most obvious example is the opening 3Lz3T-Combo: The landing was pretty shaky, but only J9 have this combo negative GOE (-1). Most even gave it +2. And while I admit I don’t always get edge calls right, the Lz in the combo looked like a pretty clear Flutz to me? Am I wrong there?

Conclusion: I will say that while I still have issues with the scoring (the racism was very obvious this time), this was still the most enjoyable women’s SP I’ve seen in a long time. You take out the Russians and suddenly you’ve got an interesting competition again - even so, the ISU still needs a reform because in the long run, no sport can exist without fairness.