#they better get to the fucking south or i swear to god

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Series Masterlist

Chapter 9 - they’re not you

Once you both pulled away for air again, you shook your head to yourself and turned your head away, embarrassed. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“I can’t do this, Rafe.” You told him, your heart raced and your hands got clammy.

"Why? Just because of your little brother and his friends? You're letting them run your life now?" he asked with a scoff, reaching out to grab your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Stop, Rafe.” You slapped his hand away, he let your jaw go and held his hands up in defense.

“Fine, but the doors always open for you.” He said, putting his hands down. You stood up, and he did now as well.

“I’m being serious. I’m not doing this again, I broke up with you.”

“And I treated you badly, but I told you, I’m better now. Tryna be a better man, for-“ he continued, looking back at you now.

“For your dad, Rafe. Not for me.” You interrupted.

“And for you.”

“Yeah, right. You got girls practically lining up for you. Go fuck one of them.” You scoffed this time, going to open the door when he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him again.

"But they're not you, y/n," he said, his voice filled with sincerity, which took you by surprise. You were speechless for a momenr, unable to form a response.

“I can’t, Rafe.” You repeated quietly.

“Give me one more chance.”

“Rafe…” you sighed. “I’m sorry.”

You both stared at each other, before you shoved his chest lightly, pushing him off of you and heading to the door.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Are you kidding me, Sarah? That doesn’t even make sense. Wards on the island? Like, the same island we are on, Sarah?”

“Yes, he’s back. Mm-hmm.”

“The second I see him, I’m turning him in, I swear.” Kiara sighed. “I don’t know how you do it. Every time I wanna complain about my dad I just think about your dad.”

“Oh, glad to be of service.”

“Works every time.”

It was silent before Sarah spoke up again.

“Hey, have you seen y/n? I went over to Ricky’s, and I didn’t even see her there.”

“No. Haven’t seen her, JJ, or John B in a while.” Kiara said.

“Weird.”

Sarah looked over, seeing Topper speaking to someone. She stared for a moment, before looking the other way, trying to avoid him.

“I didn’t know Topper was going to be here.”

“Sorry. My mom invited like the whole island.”

“Shit.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Shit.” Sarah repeated.

“I’ll keep him away.”

“Here’s the game plan, get the girls, go find Pope and Cleo, get down to South America as quick as possible, cool.”

“Seems a bit vague, I gotta say, John B. Also, me and my sister don’t got a passport, so-“

“Hey, look, don’t bore me with the details, all right? We’ll figure that out later. Hey, look at me.” John B whistled when jj looked over to see Kiara, staring for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“Gonna get Sarah. Gonna get Kie, little rendezvous mission. Back on the boat, get out of here.”

“Well, the other day, Mike and I got kind of got into a little bit of a tiff, all right? And if I go over there right now and Mike sees me, he’s not gonna let Kiara out of his sight, book. Mission blown, we can’t go down to South America.”

John B sighed, “look, just don’t get seen. All right?”

“You’re right. I’ll stay here.”

“No, no, that’s not what I was saying-“

“I got your six,” he hopped over, starting the engine of the boat.

“Yep. Great.”

“I’ll keep her running, dog, alright?”

John B sighed, walking off the dock and over to the party.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“God damn, where can I get any harder shit?” You murmured to yourself as you walked through the party, a drink in hand.

Right now, you needed to get drunk. And fast.

You rummaged through coolers, until finally finding your drink of choice with a smile.

“Y/n?” Kiara asked, not expecting to see you.

“Hey, kie, hey Sarah!” You waved to them, going over.

“Where have you been?”

“Working, lurking,” you said with a shrug, downing the drink you had in your hand. Kiara and Sarah raised their eyebrows.

“I didn’t know you were invited.” Kiara said.

“I wasn’t. Shit, I need more than that. Is this a party or not?”

“Yes, it is.” Kiara said, handing you another from a cooler next to her.

“Thank you.” You popped it open.

Mr. Carrera stood on the stage and began to give a speech.

“I would like to thank my daughter…” he paused upon seeing you, remembering the argument you had with him and how you stole.

He cleared his throat before continuing, making a smirk fall into your face as you tipped your cup at him.

“But most of all,” he held out his hand for Mrs. Carrera, helping her get up on the stage. “Thank you, Anna… for 15 years. For making this restaurant a symbol of our life. I love you. Figure eight, the cut, everyone’s together here.”

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and scoffing, just scarfing down another drink, before going to the cooler and grabbing another, and walking down the dock.

You took smaller sips this time, a stumble in your step as you walked. You looked at the sunset, before someone called out your name.

“JJ?” You furrowed your eyebrows, turning to see him on the boat.

“Shit, you look like a mess.” He said with a small laugh.

“I am a mess.” You told him, getting onto the boat with him. “What are you doing here?” You asked him, sitting on the seat next to him.

“Long story, basically Singh kidnapped Big John, and they’re somewhere in South America, now we’re trying to get everyone so we can go to South America.”

“South America?!”

“Yeah. Crazy, ain���t it?”

“Very! I can’t- I can’t go to South America!”

“Then don’t.” He shrugged, leaning back while acting nonchalant.

“I lost my other job going on your trip I can’t lose these.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You stood up, getting on the dock. You looked out at the water, standing before sighing and falling back into the boat.

“Knew you would.” He said with a laugh, you hit his side and he pouted, smile falling.

“Ow.”

“I didn’t even hit you hard!”

“Yes you did!” He said, standing up and going over to the fence.

“No I didn…” you trailed off, he furrowed his eyebrows and looked to where your eyes were.

“Shit.” JJ muttered under his breath, seeing Kiara walk towards the dock. He tried to hide behind the fence, but she clearly saw him.

“JJ.” She spoke, coming over to him. You sat back in the boat, watching the exchange with an amused smile. “I saw John B, thought you couldn’t be far..”

“I wanted to keep my distance. Wouldn’t want to ruin the party.” He pointed over to her parents.

“We were wondering where you guys ran off to. You okay?”

“No… Look, long story short, we’re mounting a full search and rescue mission right now because big John got nabbed.”

“What do you mean, got nabbe-“

“I said the same thing, Kie!” You told her, tipping the can at her.

“Shut up and drink your beer!” JJ told you over his shoulder, before turning back to her. “Kidnapped, snatched, abducted, that kind of thing. To South America by Singh. So we have to get down there as soon as we can.”

“South America? Right now?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a long shot, but we’re making a plan right now.”

“I mean, you come in here after stealing from my dad like, hey, we’re all good let’s go to South America.”

You came up to them, listening to it. You scoffed at her words, she turned to you and furrowed her eyebrows.

“You’re seriously still stuck on that?” You asked her.

“Yeah, I am, y/n. And I never forgot how you stole from my mom.”

“Eh. I’ve stolen from a lotta people, hard to keep track at this point.”

“So, is that a no? Uh, you’re just gonna ghost us?” Jj asked Kiara, ignoring you.

“Jayj, I’ve been wanting to talk since we got off the island. We need to talk. It’s all I can think about. I just can’t do any of that right now.”

“Okay, so, you’re saying you don’t wanna be a part of the plan when big John is up for execution right now. Okay. Cool, that’s a no.”

“I can’t!”

“Cool, all right. That’s all I needed to know.” He turned back to the dock, before turning right back to Kiara.

“It’s just that- actually, one last thing, when you see Mike could you just let him know that I uh, don’t feel bad about the money clip? Okay? Just let him know I actually needed it. So thank him for me- us, actually.” He motioned to you and him, winking before walking off.

“Appreciate that. Thank you.” You told her with a smile, following behind your brother.

She scoffed, making both of you stop in your tracks when she asks.

“What is wrong with you? You’re really acting like you don’t care? I mean, seriously, you’re like, acting like I don’t care. Like, I love you dude.”

He was taken aback, you spitting out the beer you had into the ocean. He turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” He paused. “Kie, I mean, thanks. Okay, great, no, look,” he walked back over to her, you staying behind this time. “It’s not gonna work, okay? I’m gonna go help my best friend save his father. Maybe I’ll see you at the break when I get back.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I get back.” He mumbled, grabbing your arm and practically pulling you over to the boat.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“I’d rather not talk about it right now, y/n.”

“Oh, shit, did you guys fuck?” You asked him, a little louder than intended, she heard it.

“Shut up, dude!” He slapped his hand over your mouth.

He just gave you a look, making your eyes widen and you prop your legs up. “Shit. Unexpected turn of events.”

——

“What happened, dude?” You slurred, walking with the two of them.

“She cheated, that’s what happened. After everything I’ve been going through, she’s off hooking up with Topper? I mean, what the hell?”

“Shit. Topper? She’s gotta be real low for that. He’s so… ugly.” You spoke with a snicker.

“You hooked up with Rafe for months. That’s not any better.” JJ retorted.

“No, there’s a difference. Because-“ you covered your mouth when you hiccuped. “Because Rafe isn’t hideous.”

“How many drinks has she had today?” John B asked, pointing to you.

“I lost count after 7.” You told him, hopping into the boat with JJ. “But I am sober enough to know the clocks ticking. Let’s just leave ‘em.” You shrugged. But John B wasn’t on the boat, and just stood on the dock.

“John B, what are you doing?” JJ asked when he saw him move, staring out as Sarah wrapped her arms around Topper. “Oh, don’t even think about it, dude-“

“Get in the boat, dude!” You exclaimed, he ignored the both of you and began to walk over to Topper and Sarah.

He was like a goddamn zombie, his anger controlled him as he walked over.

“Not right here, bro, not right here-“ Topper started, not looking for a fight.

Sarah got in front, but he pushed her off of him.

“We’re not doing this.” Topper spoke, John B shoving him.

“Feel good about yourself?”

“Stop!”

“You need to chill out, bro!”

They argued.

“I would just walk away.”

“Should we just… let him go at it?” You asked JJ, watching him push and shove Topper.

JJ didn’t answer, just watching.

“For once in your life, would you please just turn around and walk away?” Sarah grabbed him, turning him to her. He stared at her for a moment.

“Please. Please don’t.”

“Hey, no hard feelings bro.” Topper laughed behind him.

“We good?” He asked, and John b turned around to look at him.

John B socked him in the face, making you wince at the loud sound it made. Topper grunted as he fell to the ground, he shook his fist.

“You like that shit, Top? Huh? Huh?”

John B ignored Sarah as he grabbed Toppers collar, hitting him multiple times in the face, hard blows hitting his face.

“Shit.” You mumbled, both you and JJ running over to him.

Kiara’s dad pushed him off of Topper, he shouted at John B. You and JJ grabbed John B, pushing him away as him and Mike shouted at each other.

“Get off of him!” JJ shouted at Mike when he came too close to John B.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ bout! The three of you, get out of here!” He shouted.

“Fuck that’s supposed to mean?” You shouted at him, glancing back at him before focusing back on shoving John B away.

“You happy, Sarah?!” He shouted, both of you pushing him back onto the dock.

“She’s a cheater. That’s who she is. I should’ve known.” John B ranted as they walked on the dock.

“Any idea what you just did?” you mumbled to him. Suddenly, the drunkenness didn't seem so fun anymore.

“C’mon, we gotta go.” You motioned at John B as you untied the ropes, hearing sirens in the back.

The three of you sat in silence, your mind racing with everything you did in one crazy fucking day.

—-

Taglist

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

[florshedworf]

i’ve been reading huck finn and i haven’t said anything while reading but here are my thoughts

1. i love jim. i want him to be my friend. genuinely.

2. HUCK SAYS FUCK

3. can the duke and king just… go now. like i wanna go back to perusing on the river. they’re both incredibly foul

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (18/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Canned soup always works wonders.

Warnings: cliffhanger (whoopsie), angst (duh), Lando is a cutie, swear words

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: not 10k words, but I did my absolute best. thanks for always having my back. I love you.

 "Fuck!" You cross your arms in front of your face and exhale deeply. "FUCK!"

How hard can it be to find an apartment in the south of France? An apartment that has a shower, a bed, and a stove top? A window would be ideal, too, but you have to cut back somewhere, after all. But even a single room in a shared apartment costs almost 2,000€ - how much do you have to pay for an apartment where your privacy is not disturbed?

Although that didn't bother you much in this apartment either. After all, you even shared the only bed with Charles. Voluntarily. The longer you think about it, the worse your headache gets.

After slamming the door in his face yesterday and then wallowing in your misery for hours, you decided to tackle the apartment hunt this morning. You don't want to spend a second longer than necessary in these four walls, which is why you briefly considered asking Kika if you could move in with her and Pierre at short notice and only for a short period of time.

But then you would also have to explain what happened. And since both of them are Charles' friends first and foremost, you don't want to get in the way, even though he's been acting like a huge asshole.

Meanwhile, you're neither sad nor angry - you're just disappointed.

Of him, because he's gone to so much lengths in the last few days to make you feel at home in his company and presence. He showed you the place that is most important to him, told you about his father and showed you his vulnerable side. He has indirectly supported you financially by getting Joris to pay you back and waiving the accruing rent. By God, he even took you to dinner with his friends so you could meet them because he thought "you'd fit in quite well."

And then he ditches you, showing his coldest, rudest, nastiest side by using what your last relationship failed at against you.

But you are even more disappointed in yourself. There has been absolutely no reason why you should trust Charles so much after such a short time. You told him about Raphael, that he left you because you wouldn't sleep with him, and that he cheated on you. You took his compliments without even a thought as to whether he meant them. You had even had a fucking - hot - sex dream with him. 

You trusted him blindly. And that's getting back at you now.

Lounging lazily on the couch and looking at apartments that are definitely beyond your budget isn't an approach to making you feel better either, so you decide to pack your suitcase already.

If you can't find a place to stay in a hurry, you'd move to a hotel first. Or a hostel. You wouldn't have any privacy there, but at least they are so cheap that you could stay there longer and thus have more time to look for something reasonable.

And anything is better than staying here.

You open the suitcase you've kept in the closet for months, spread it out on the bed, and start putting your clothes in it. Sweaters, jeans, gym clothes, underwear - the stuff you don't want to leave home without. When it's filled and locked, you put it next to the door of your room. But only to realize that your whole life doesn't fit into one suitcase.

You put your hands on your hips. 

You still have a few days before Charles returns. Theoretically, you would still have enough time to get another suitcase, because you haven't packed your shoes or bathroom utensils yet. And you can only fit a few things into your gym bag.

A ping sounds from the living room, and as you poke your head into the room, you see your cell phone light up on the coffee table. You pick it up to read the message.

Lando: Hi. I wanted to check in and see if you're feeling a little better today. Been worried about you all night.

You're chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Yesterday at noon you sent a message to Lando saying that you were feeling unwell and so unfortunately you couldn't go out with him. Aside from the fact that your eyes were swollen from crying and no ice cube in the world could have helped you with that, it didn't feel right to have dinner with him.

Charles had thrown it at you that Lando only wanted to go out with you to get you into bed. How much truth there was to that, you don't know. After all, Charles said some things that hurt you. But whether you can take them at face value is another matter.

Charles has known the Brit for much longer and, above all, better than you. And the way he has courted and flirted with you since you first met, there may be some truth in Charles' words.

But even if there were, Charles has no right to judge. To judge how you handle the matter, whether you like going out with Lando or not. And if you were to go out with him, it could be on a purely friendly basis. Maybe you would have dated and immediately realized that you would be better off as friends. 

But you can't find that out now without worry. Now that Charles has hurt you so much and pushed you away. His words are burned into your mind, which is why you answer Lando carefully.

You: I'm feeling better already, thank you. I'm sorry I had to cancel our dinner.

His reply comes immediately.

Lando: You don't need to apologize. I'm just relieved that you're feeling better. Have you eaten anything today?

As if on cue, your stomach is growling. Yesterday your mood was so low that you lost your appetite and, apart from a few cornflakes, you couldn't choke down anything. And that's exactly what you answer him. 

Lando: All right. Give me half an hour and then I'll be with you, okay?

Indecisive, you type a reply, delete it, and start again. Does it make sense to let Lando into the apartment while you're in the process of packing your bags? If that's exactly what Charles was addressing?

Charles can go to hell.

You merely give Lando a thumbs-up in response before putting your phone aside and going to the bathroom to get ready for a bit. You may not care how you look right now, but you still don't want Lando to think the worst of you. You comb your hair, wash your face, and slip into more appropriate clothes than your sleeping clothes before cleaning up the living room a bit.

When the doorbell rings, you flinch. 

You open the apartment door and a smiling Lando stands in front of it. He is wearing a black sweater with a zipper on the collar and black sweatpants. In his hand he holds a white bag.

"I didn't know which canned soup was your favorite. And that's why," he raises the bag next to his face, "I brought a selection." Grinning, he pushes past you and enters. 

You close the door behind him. "You didn't have to do that."

As if it were a matter of course and as if he were here every day, he takes off his white sneakers and heads toward the kitchen, which of course he finds immediately because of the size of the apartment, and takes the cans out of the bag. "I know," he replies to you, setting the soups side by side before turning to you and resting his hands behind him on the edge of the counter. "But I'm someone who cares about his friends when they're miserable. So," he rubs his hands together. "which soup do you want to try first?"

The selection the Brit brought with him is limited to chicken, beef or vegetables, with the picture on the can of the former looking the most appealing. While he heats the soup in a small pot on the stove, you sit at the dining table and watch him. 

"May I ask why you weren't feeling well yesterday?" he asks, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the soup.

Indecisively, you look at him. 

Lando is Charles' friend. And you don't want to tell him about how Charles treated you yesterday any more than you want to tell Kika or Pierre. Because even though he hurt you so much, you don't want his friends to think badly of him. 

Lando hands you a bowl of soup before sitting down across from you in the seat that actually belongs to Charles. An image flashes before your eyes of you eating croissants for breakfast with your roommate. Sitting across from each other, eating pasta, even though you've only known each other for half an hour.

You barely noticeably shake your head to get rid of the image. A movement that Lando takes as an answer to his question. 

"Okay. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you."

You smile at him. It's the exact same phrase Charles said to you in the most beautiful place in Monaco when you were feeling so bad about Raphael's call. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

"Thank you," you reply to Lando. "I really appreciate that."

As you comfortably spoon up your soup in a slightly better mood, the Brit tells you about his plans for the coming Christmas. He wants to fly back to England to be with his parents and siblings. He shows you pictures of his niece Mila, who steals the show in every photo, but you can't blame her with the chubby cheeks. 

"I can't wait to see everyone again," Lando says as he puts his phone in his back pocket. "Are you spending Christmas with your family, too?"

You shake your head. "Nope, I'm staying here." 

Lando looks at you, confused. "Alone? What about Charles? He'd take you to see his family for sure."

He would. In fact, he offered when the two of you sat at Jori's dinner table a few days ago. You remember how the two of them joked around, even though Charles had been busting his best friend's chops just minutes before. You thought that you wouldn't do anything that would risk that friendship. 

A thought you had often. 

"Where is he, anyway?" asks Lando, stretching to be able to see the rest of the apartment from where he's sitting, which isn't difficult when the apartment itself isn't particularly much bigger than a shoebox. 

You look into the empty bowl you're clutching tightly. "He has meetings in Italy," you reply curtly, setting it on the table in front of you before pulling your knees up to your chest. 

Your friend raises an eyebrow. "Are you going there too?" As you shake your head in confusion, he points to a spot behind you with a nod of his head. "I'm just asking because there's a suitcase there."

As you turn around, you immediately realize what Lando means. You've left the bedroom door open, and from where he's sitting, he has a perfect view of the doorstep. Right to where your suitcase is. 

"It's not for that," you reply. 

"What for then?"

You stand up to stall some time, and to avoid looking Lando in the eye. You rinse the bowl slowly, hoping you'll think of another good excuse to give him. But you don't want to lie to him either. After all, Lando doesn't deserve that. 

And that's why you don't say anything as you reach for the kitchen towel to dry the bowl. You rub over each spot at least three times, and even though it's already completely dry, you keep wiping over it. 

When you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you wince. 

"What did he do?" Lando's voice is calm and gentle as he takes the bowl and cloth from your hand and sets both down on the countertop. 

"Nothing," you reply curtly, and are about to grab a glass from the cabinet when his large hand clasps yours and stops you in your tracks. 

"Come on, Y/N." Lando pulls lightly on your hand to make you turn in his direction. You keep your head lowered, however. 

If you were looking at him right now - you just can't lie to him.

"I know Charles," he says softly, before placing his index finger under your chin and lifting it to make you look at him. When you look into his worried blue eyes, you've lost the fight. "What did he do?"

You can't stop the tears that gather in the corners of your eyes. Nor can you stop them from rolling down your cheeks as you try to blink them away. Lando thinking badly of his monegasque friend is the last thing you want. 

But if you move away from here, you certainly won't see Lando again either. And then, theoretically, you may as well not care what he thinks of his friend. And after all, it's not like Charles didn't deserve it, the way he treated you. Charles brought it on himself. 

You tell Lando everything. 

You start with the fact that Raphael cheated on you and dumped you. That you lost your job a few days ago and Charles was suddenly standing in your - his - apartment. You tell him about your agreement to share the apartment because he still lets his ex-girlfriend live in his first apartment and that after four days he grew so close to your heart that it made you dizzy. 

You tell him about Raphael waiting for you in front of the apartment on the day of the dinner with your friends, and that's why you had to spend the night at Kika's, and that Charles called you in a panic and after that you shared the bed for the first time. How you were so unsure about your feelings, because Charles is Charles, and that he had you completely wrapped around his little finger, even though you've only known each other for a few days. 

You tell him about yesterday morning. What he threw at you, even though he knew exactly how much it would hurt you. How he talked about his own friend to make you feel even more insecure. And you tell him that you told Charles that you were going to move out. 

Lando stays silent the whole time, but doesn't take his eyes off you. His eyes follow every tear that drips from your chin onto your sweater, and in between he gently squeezes your hand as a sign that he's following your story. 

When you fall silent, he says nothing at first, but pulls you toward the living room, where he places you both on the couch. You worry that you've told him too much, gone a giant step too far, but it all just poured out of you and you couldn't stop the torrent of words. 

But Lando doesn't seem to be angry with you. Quite the opposite. His gaze seems softer as you look at him. "I'd like to offer you the guest room in my apartment," he finally says. "But I don't think you'd accept the offer."

You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "I think it would be best if I just moved away. There's nothing keeping me here. No job, no responsibilities. I can go anywhere." You wrench your arms in the air. "Maybe I'll get a job in the United States. Or in Australia. Just really far away from here."

"That would be a possibility, of course," Lando replies. "But that can't be what you really want, can it?"

Puzzled, you tilt your head. "Why not?"

Lando leans against the back of the sofa. "You could have moved away when you were fired. Or when Raphael dumped you. But you stayed."

You shrug helplessly. "But now I have a reason to leave."

"Do you?" he asks. 

"Obviously."

"Then why didn't you tell me everything yesterday? Or when I was just outside your door? Or warming up your soup?" he counters. You don't like the direction this conversation is taking. "You could have told me all about it right away. But you didn't, because you didn't want me to think badly of Charles."

You shrug, trying to express your indifference towards your still-roommate. But Lando isn't buying it. Not one bit of it. 

"Come on, Y/N. You can't tell me you don't care about him at all. If you did, you wouldn't be so upset by all this that you'd want to leave the country. And then you wouldn't have tried to protect him in the first place."

You hate that he's right.

"I didn't realize you were so emotionally mature," you reply to him, slightly flippantly, and no sooner have you said it than you're sorry. "Sorry. You're not the person I'm mad at." You pucker your mouth into a thin line. "Are you mad at him? At Charles?"

Lando shrugs. "I'm not thrilled, of course, that a friend of mine would talk about me that way. Especially since he knows none of it is true," he explains. "Charles is good at pushing people away who mean something to him. I just don't know if he's doing it to protect the person or himself."

"Definitely himself." You shake your head. "You don't do something like that to protect someone! That's complete bullshit!"

"Are you sure about that?" Lando rubs his palm over his cheek. "Weren't you planning on sleeping on the couch and breaking your deal?"

You raise your index finger. "Nuh-uh. That was to protect myself."

"So you haven't been telling yourself the last few days that a friendship between you is better? After all, your ex cheated on you and left you because you wouldn't sleep with him. You got fired, Y/N. Your emotional baggage is higher than the Eiffel Tower." He puts a hand on your shoulder. "You know I don't mean that in a bad way, or to hurt you. But I'm sure you're trying to protect not only your heart, but Charles' heart as well."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. But this time you don't even try to stop them. "He deserves someone better. Someone who won't lie to him. Someone who doesn't carry around so much baggage." You shake your head slightly and wrinkle your nose. "He deserves someone great."

Lando's hand moves from your shoulder down their arm until he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes them gently. "I know someone who's been hurt so much, but still sees the good in people." He smiles at you. "I don't know anyone more great than you."

Lando stays with you for the rest of the evening, trying to distract you, which he clearly succeeds at with the miserable rounds of Uno in which he cheated at least twelve times. As you part with a tight, friendly hug, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

"You're still allowed to be mad at Charles. What he did is absolute bullshit," he says as he slips on his shoes. "But wait a little while before you move out. Maybe he'll come crawling back and apologize. Besides, for selfish reasons, I don't want you to move to the United States. Or Australia. Or anywhere else." He gives you one last squeeze. "If you need anything, call me. I'll be right over."

"I know," you smile, "and thanks again for the soups." 

He raises his index and middle fingers to his temple, a joking goodbye. "You're always welcome. See you around. Here in Monaco."

You close the door behind him and actually feel a lot better. Lando's presence was comforting and warm, and he's someone you definitely wouldn't want to miss as a friend. 

After brushing your teeth and combing your hair, you settle into bed. Your suitcase is still at your bedroom door, but the decision to move out isn't as set in stone as it was just a few hours ago. Perhaps you would look for a hotel for the time being to gain some distance. And then seek a conversation with Charles to have his behavior explained to you. 

Friends don't treat each other like that. And he's definitely going to have some work to do to straighten that out. But there needs to be distance between you to make it work, which is why you're looking for hotels in the area to check into tomorrow. 

A violent knock on the front door startles you. It's the middle of the night and you're not expecting anyone, so you carefully tiptoe towards the door. Maybe it's Lando, who left the rest of his soups here, or maybe he left his cell phone and can't call you to let you know he's coming by. Or maybe it's just a neighbor who got the wrong door. 

It could have been all of these possibilities. But it's none of them when you open the door. 

And you immediately regret that you didn't move out yesterday.

next part

[rafesfavgirl]

two graves, one gun — r. cameron

sad rafe fic bc i just got my period and i'm feeling extra emotional :')

series: every few lifetimes

❝ so long, london stitches undone two graves, one gun you'll find someone ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after another night of getting coked out and passing out on barry's couch, rafe realizes you deserve better than him and decides to let you go.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: drug addiction, break-up, might make you cry, ANGSTY asl

the sole of your heel taps anxiously against your living room's hardwood floor, as you stared at the time on your phone's lock screen, which lit up with a photo that wheezie took of you and rafe sitting at one of the tables at midsummers last year, looking at each other as if you were the only people there.

8:30 p.m.

your heart aches at the realization that he had forgotten your date again, but the nerves that settle in your stomach win over, as you think about where he probably is.

pushing your weight off the sofa, you grab your car keys from the hooks on the wall, and dial rafe on your way out the door.

straight to voicemail. fuck.

you skip down the steps in front of your house and unlock your car in the driveway to get in, immediately starting the engine to get on your way.

you dial rafe again as you pull into the road—to no avail.

"damn it, rafe," you mutter, eyes switching between the road and your phone as you type him a message.

you: where are you???

when the message doesn't even go through, you let out a frustrated groan. either his phone's dead or it's switched off. you step on the gas to speed up, zigzagging between cars to get there faster.

you pull to an abrupt stop in front of a beat-down house on the south side, and switch the car off before hopping out.

"mrs. country club, what brings you to this side of the island?" barry stands from the porch when he sees you walking towards him, fuming.

"oh spare me the fake hospitality, barry," you tell him. "where is he?"

"where's who?" he shrugs—but you knew he knew what you were talking about.

"don't play dumb with me," you spat, attempting to walk past him. "i know he's here."

he steps to the side to block you from going any further. "maybe so, but it ain't a pretty sight."

"ugh," you manage to walk past him and proceed into the house, with him on your tail. "rafe!"

barry catches up to you and blocks your way again. "hey, i told you-"

"barry, you're really testing my patience here, alright?" you say, refusing to back down. you weren't scared of him—okay, maybe a little, but you weren't about to let him see that. "rafe!"

you push past barry again, and make your way further inside, immediately rushing to rafe, who was passed out face-down on barry's couch.

"oh my god, rafe!" you crouch down beside him, not missing the un-sniffed lines of coke on the wooden table in front of him, and pick up his head in your hands. "baby, baby," you gently pat his face with your hand. "can you hear me?"

"told you it wasn't a pretty sight," barry leans against a wooden post and watches you, making you roll your eyes.

"rafe," you try to wake him up again. "babe."

thankfully, his eyes flutter open, relief washing over you as you let out a sigh. "oh thank god."

"y/n?" his voice is barely above a whisper when his eyes lock with yours. "shit!"

you move aside when he suddenly sits up, searching the couch cushions for his phone. "what time is it?"

"rafe-"

"no, fuck!" he shouts when he realizes his phone is dead, and looks up at barry. "i told you to wake me up if i knocked out!"

"i'm not your keeper, cameron," barry shrugs. "just take your shit and go, a'ight?"

"baby…" rafe turns to you kneeling on the ground beside him, his voice much softer now. "i swear i set an alarm— i was just— i didn't think my phone would die and-"

"hey," you place your hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly to make him look at you. "don't worry about it. let's just get out of here, okay?"

he nods, and you stand up, dusting yourself off as you do.

"i'll meet you in the car, doll," he tells you. "i just gotta take care of something."

—

the car ride back to your house is almost completely silent, until rafe breaks it.

"you look beautiful, by the way," he says, eyes shifting to you.

you glance at him, a small smile on your lips. "thank you."

"god, i'm such an idiot!" he groans, clearly frustrated with himself over the situation. "how many missed dates is that this month?"

"rafe, i told you not to worry about it," you tell him. "it's okay, i get-"

"y/n," his voice is stern now, his eyes burning holes into your skin. "how many?"

you sigh, turning the wheel towards the curb to park the car in front of your house. "four," you answer, switching the ignition off. "that was the fourth one this month."

rafe scoffs and shakes his head, eyes averting away from you. he just couldn't look at you anymore, because he knew that even if you didn't show it, you were disappointed. not only at him, but maybe even yourself for putting up with him.

"hey," you place a hand on his knee, and he glances down at the gesture, before finally looking at you. "it's okay."

"how is it okay?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing. "all i do is disappoint you."

"baby, that's not true," you try to reassure him, but he doesn't buy it.

"it is true," he tells you. "and you don't deserve it."

not knowing what to say, you just glance down at your hand on his knee. "rafe…"

"no," he cuts you off, and places his hand above yours to slowly push it off of him. "i can't keep doing this to you."

letting out a sigh, you adjust yourself in your seat so you're looking at him. "okay, rafe, before you saying anything else— i love you, alright? there's nothing you can do that-"

"and that's exactly the problem, a'ight?" he snaps. "you're never gonna walk away from me yourself! even when i bought this shit from barry after i told you to wait in the car." he reaches into his pocket and tosses the small bag of blow in between the two of you. your eyes shift from it to him, the uneasiness in your stomach only getting worse.

"i have a problem y/n," he tells you. "and it's not the kind you can just 'fix' with love."

"then we'll get you help. we'll do any-" you try to reach out to him, but he resists.

"no," he says, motioning a hand between you two. "this has to end."

the words you dreaded hearing comes out of his mouth in one fell swoop, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"what?"

"i'm never gonna be the guy you need me to be," he shakes his head at you, and if it weren't so dark outside, you swear you'd see his eyes watering. "and since you can't let go, i have to do it for you."

tears brim along your lower lashes as you speak, "no. that is not your choice to make."

"god, y/n, can you stop making this harder than it already is?" he pleads.

"can you stop acting like it's so easy?" you retort.

"you think this is easy?" he asks, taken aback by your accusation. "it kills me to do this."

"then don't," you say, voice cracking as you reach out for his hands. "we can work through your addiction together, rafe. we'll-"

"that's not your responsibility," he shakes his head at you. "if i'm gonna get better, i need to do it on my own."

you sob, "i— i don't want this to be the end.”

rafe glances down at your hands, before bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

you lean into his touch, and a single tear rolls down your cheek—one that he wipes away with his thumb.

"i love you so much," he says, eyes closing as his head tilted down against yours. "i'm sorry."

his lips place a soft kiss on your forehead, and just like that, he's gone.

part 2.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[misshugs]

Is this what you wanted to see? || Colby Brock x Reader

You thought it was just going to be another funny, intriguing investigation with the guys, but things went south real quick. Whatever was in this hotel, didn't like you.

warnings: gore/blood, cursing, violent paranormal activity, reader getting attacked by ghosts, seeing shit that's not there (aka, being a bit of a medium), angst?

a/n: the story is fictional, therefore, the place/video that I based the story from, is not real.

word count: 2k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys! It's Sam and Colby. Today, we're standing right infront of one of the most haunted hotels in America..." Colby began.

The frame of my body visible to the camera as they continued their intro. I threw a tiny wave when they called out my name to the camera.

At this point I'm so used to all of this that Colby doesn't even need to ask if I'm okay with it anymore, although he still does, which I love about him.

We've been dating for months now and I swear that I'm just falling deeper in love every day. I didn't even notice myself staring lovingly at him throughout their intro to the point they had to shake me out of it.

"You good?" Nate asked, I looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, just zoned out for a little bit, my bad." I smiled at him and he nodded.

"Just making sure."

"You guys ready?" Sam asked, looking at us.

"Yessir!" Nate responded.

"As I'll ever be." I added.

"We'll see you guys inside." Colby said back to the camera and turned it off. He looked back at us and smiled. "So, shall we?"

"We shall." I responded, laughing slightly as I got closer to him and walked inside with them. While they weren't looking, I felt a short kiss on my cheek coming from him, which just made me smile wider.

God, I love him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

While we were all walking through a corridor, I looked back and saw an employee with a tray of food. He saw me and I nodded with a smile at him as a kind gesture. He smiled and nodded back. I looked back at the boys, only to slightly look back for a second and then completely looking back in shock.

There was no one there. It would've been impossible for someone to run and hide in that short amount of time.

Was it my imagination or did that really just happen? It seemed too real to be true.

"Co..Colby." I softly said, as my feet were unable to move after the thought of having seen something so real, yet not being there.

"Yeah?" He looked back, so did the other two. "You okay? What happened?" He got closer and looked at my face then back to the corridor, trying to see what I was looking at.

"I... there was someone here. An employee... with... a tray. I looked at him, even greeted him for a second and when I looked back he was... gone."

"No fucking way." Sam said.

"Are you serious?? You're telling me you just saw a full-on person then it disappeared?" Nate asked, shocked.

"I guess, yeah?"

"Oh, this is gonna be a good night." Sam put the camera on my face. "One of us already saw something unexplainable, wish that would've been me." He laughed.

"Next thing we know you begin to levitate brother." Colby laughed back.

I laughed as well, trying to brush away the thought of genuinely seeing a ghost.

All night, I've ended up having this eerie feeling of someone just watching us, but there was no one around. I tried to hide my uneasiness but Colby saw through me right away.

Every time he noticed, he began to flirt with me, making me feel good the best way he knows how. "You know we can just leave if you're too uncomfortable, baby." He kissed my forehead, putting his arms on my shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, I'm good. If I couldn't handle it, I would tell you right away."

"You better." He chuckled and kissed me, making all of my stress go away for a moment.

I can't lie, it did make me feel better, but somehow it just made things worse. I started seeing figures at the corners of my eyes, movements around me where nobody was walking around, even feeling touched a few times around my shoulders, hands and even ass. It felt weird, it made my anxiety grow by the minute, but somehow, it felt safe because of Colby.

And so, we ended the tour of the place and thought about trying to get some activity at around 3 in the morning. Meaning, we had nothing else to do. I was already tired enough, feeling as if the energy in my body has been drained to its core. I believed that it was solely because of the much walking and anxiety that was rising constantly.

Although the others planned on staying awake until the hour came, I told them I will try and get some sleep. And so, they would wake me up when the time comes.

Lying in the bed, I didn't stay up for long until my eyelids were closed and my brain just shut down. Usually, I'm quite the light sleeper, but this time I was knocked out.

Until I felt it.

I felt some hands on my legs. Honestly, I wasn't conscious enough to know if it was in my dreams or in real life. It turns out, it was real. And it wasn't Colby, or anyone else. But I felt it, tight on my leg. I couldn't even think right before I felt a pull and suddenly I was on the floor.

I could feel a sharp pain on my head as it was the first thing that touched the floor. I quickly woke up, shaken up by the sudden act. I whined in pain as the other seemingly stood up from their places and looked at me, possibly concerned, believing I might've just moved and fallen off the bed.

Before they even got closer, I got pulled back. This time, being completely awake, I yelled out, looking back at whatever force was holding my legs, one to see nothing at all.

And it was at that point when I felt genuine fear. I tried my hardest to hold onto the floor or anything really, but to no avail. Tears filling my tired eyes as I tried to focus my vision to the things around me. Next thing I knew I was thrown onto the wall, my back throbbing with pain as I felt a huge headache from the mild concussion I probably had after all of this.

To this point, everyone was frightened. Fear made them almost unable to walk, talk even. I could see them, their scared faces, trying to do something but there was this tension that made them... stop in place. Like this pressure, this force that was throwing me around like a ragdoll. They couldn't help me, it seemed.

At least in my point of view.

Unbeknownst to me, they were actually trying to set themselves free from this invisible pressure. Trying to move, but feeling like they've had a ton of weight on top of them that they couldn't escape from.

As I fell to the floor, I tried to gain back my breathing. Shaking on the floor, I looked up and saw Colby screaming my name while being set free from the pressure, running towards me. I looked at him with hope in my eyes, trying to pull my arm up to hold him, only to feel myself getting pulled again. This time, thrown towards the couch.

Although the direct hit to the couch didn't feel as bad, I had enough force to fall back behind the couch and to the floor. Since I tried to hold myself with the couch, unfortunately, it leaned back on itself and fell on top of me. Just the cherry on top.

I whined in pain, unable to move, stuck underneath the couch with bruises all over my body and the wet feeling of warm liquid on my back and the top of my head, wishing it would've only been sweat.

My vision was blurry.

My senses were all fucked up.

It all happened so quick that I don't think even they would've reacted in time even if they were able to move freely.

With my eyes closed, I could feel the pressure from the couch lift from my chest and a pair of arms holding me tightly.

"Oh my fucking god. Oh shit. Fuck. We need to get the fuck out of here." I heard Colby desperately scream. As I opened my eyes, I could see his teary ones. Holding me onto his arms, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. "Are you okay? Fuck..."

"Hurts..." I was able to whisper out those words, shaking and I feel myself coughing onto my hand. Looking back at the now blood-drenched hand, the pain began to intensify. My vision kept on failing, only able to see blobs of colors here and there.

Colby held me on his arms and pulled me up from the floor, which made me whimper in pain, feeling my back getting even more wet by the moment.

"Shit. Her back is bleeding... Fuck." I could hear Sam's shaky voice as I tried to gain back my breath, trying to calm myself down as I heard the rapidly increasing heartbeat of Colby.

Somehow, it made me feel okay. Being by his side, the rush of everything around almost seemed softer, calmer. I could no longer listen to everything that was going on.

Muffled sounds were the only thing that could pass through.

Yelling.

Moving.

A tight squeeze.

I felt numb. For a moment, at least.

My name.

I heard my name and suddenly, I was conscious again. I blinked a few times and looked up at the desperate Colby. "Please... tell me you're okay... fuck..." His tears probably blurring his eyesight.

A glimpse of strength came back to me and I was able to touch his cheek with my hand. He quickly looked down at me. "I'm fine... I'm fine..."

"Right after we walk out of the room..." Nate pointed out, holding all of their stuff in their hands.

"We need to get the fuck out of here and get her to a hospital." Sam said, walking quickly with the others. I was confused, seemingly forgetting for a brief moment about how I was brutally assaulted by a ghost.

"Hospital? Why are we going to a hos..." As I was talking, I realized why they were hurriedly walking away. I felt the pain all over again. I groaned at the feeling, shaking on Colby's arms.

"You'll be okay, you're going to be fine. Don't move. Deep breaths, baby." Colby tried to calm me down, his shaky breath giving away his anxiety.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

My back was all bruised up. I had some unknown hand marks on my legs, where I was pulled from. Some scratches tinted my back red when I got into the ER, as well as a few bumps in my head that gave me a red face.

The memories of what happened were blurry, yet so vivid.

And the only thing keeping me conscious was him. I could see it in his face, he felt guilty. Guilty for something that wasn't even his fault.

"Shouldn't have let you go with us... we should've stopped when you began to see so many things... I'm so stupid." He whispered under his breath.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." I said. He reluctantly looked up and into my eyes. I smiled. "It wasn't your fault. Nothing about this could've been predicted, alright? Don't blame yourself." He smiled slightly, only to sigh.

"Yeah, but..." I interrupted him.

"No buts. I'm fine. I'm still here, with you. Right?" I responded, softly while holding his hand. "No need to feel guilty, no need to be sorry. You just have to promise me a good time when I get out of here, yeah? And a good meal." I smiled. "Food here kinda taste like shit." He chuckled, making me smile even more. "That's the face I like to see."

"I love you, so much." He said, holding my hand up to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on them, making my cheeks flutter by the site of his sensitive side.

"I love you too. Now, do that again, but closer to my face."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it's been a while since i've written something like this, and honestly i just remembered how fun and angsty it is to write about getting literally beaten up by a ghost lmao

hope you liked it, requests are appreciated!

-nikkõ

[dimicul]

jealous smug ex bf ghost 🫡

this is not edited and i wrote this at 4am 😭

thinking about the silent smouldering confidence radiating off of ghost when he knows he’s better in every way compared to your new boyfriend.

he doesn’t understand you the same way. sure, maybe your relationship with him wasn’t the most perfect, but it’s gotta be better than this arsewipe you picked up from the streets. he just doesn’t get you; your little tics, what makes you smile, laugh, cry, snort — cum.

you see it in every subtle jerk of Ghost’s body, every glance he passes you. pure smugness when your new boy toy drops the weighted gun several times, snaps at you when you try to help him; you can’t even point it out or go berserk if Ghost breathes in your direction, because nobody else sees it - just you. he reckons that’s why you’re perfect for him. nah, he knows it.

you suppose it’s a curse of some sort - it’s not like your boyfriend is a complete dickhead, but he messes up once and you find yourself wondering if Ghost would have done the same. if he’d allow it all.

“You’re pointin’ south.”

Ghost rolls his shoulders back, head cocked to the side as he watches your boyfriend turn in LT’s direction, lips pressed in a thin line. You keep reminding him it’s the other fucking way, that he had to practice the day before, because he knew how important this was to you—

“Yeah, got it L.T.” He says through clenched teeth. Ghost says nothing, but the mask shifts a little and you want nothing more than to wipe the smirk off of his face.

It doesn’t help when he releases the trigger and misses.

“Just keep trying.” You urge your boyfriend through clenched teeth, offering a smile. Ghost watches it all, how quickly your mood plummeted, how you’re sparing him worried glances. he’s not gonna pity your sod of a boyfriend, but since you’re so worried, he’d consider it. well, he tries to, when that boyfriend of yours moves harshly out of your way and readjusts his pose. It’s humiliating and it doesn’t go by unnoticed.

“There you go,” Your boyfriend simmers to himself when the bullet pierces straight into the makeshift dummy opposite him.

“Good job.” You sigh out, weights rolling off of your shoulders.

“Didn’t need a compass either.” Ghost remarks, void of any emotion as he turns to saunter off.

Despite your mental efforts, you can’t deny the sex is… awful.

You feel terrible as you roll onto your side, a layer of sweat on your skin, looking all tossed up. You should feel… good, right? Yet it doesn’t. It wasn’t the same; no familiar ache between your legs, the immediate sleep after, the same large hands that knew every inch of your body.

“Fuck sake,” You shove your face into the small cushion next to you, voice muffled. Here you were, laying beside your boyfriend, thinking about how much you’d rather be sleeping on the cheap issue of Ghost’s mattress.

You were royally fucked up.

Everyone notices your bad mood the day after; you’re slamming doors, sighing irritably, cricking your neck to the side, knees jittery. Ghost drinks it in, God he fucking revels it. Poor girl.

“Needed this, didn’t ya?” He’s rasping in your ear later that night, your head buried into the pillow deep somewhere in the barracks, ass up in the air for him. Ghost hisses, hips snapping against you. He can tell you needed this — course that pretty boy’s not been takin’ care of you, he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t care to.

“Fussy thing,” Ghost grunts, large hand moving to fist your hair, earning a whimper in response. You’re clawing at the sheets beneath you, breathless, unable to conjure up some lame jab because he’s so deep in you you swear you’re seeing stars.

“Greedy too. Yeah, you fuckin’ like that,” Thrust after thrust, you clench around him, taking him so well, because after all; you’re his. His girl. You moan into the pillow, earning a chuckle from the man as he stills, gloved hands on your hips. God, you know he’s making you late to training but you can’t seem to care.

“Doesn’t fuck you right, does he, love?”

“Si —” You’re panting, lolling against the pillow, jaw slack when large hands spread your legs wider, tattooed skin against soft flesh.

“You got a fussy little pussy,” He groans, base of his cock stilling again, right at that spot you love. “Need’a be fucked proper.”

[flowerygrdn]

MESS IT UP || r. cameron

gif, not mine*

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: season 3 spoilers!! angst, rafe is still fucking crazy, and very sad.

summary: y/n and the pouges need to get to south america, but when rafe brings ward to the plane, he needs to talk to her one last time before she leaves.

a/n: wanted to write something sad, but i will be writing some smut next 😏 also this is hella short, sorry.

---

As my friends are bickering about Kiara and Jj, the engine of a motorcycle begins to grow closer. I see it first, two people are on it and then suddenly, it stops in front of us. Everyone turns their heads and the riders take their helmets off. Rafe's eyes meet mine for a split second before Ward falls off the bike. He rushes to his side and starts yelling at us to help him.

"Don't just stand there, help!" He yells, then Sarah rushes to his side and helps get Ward up. They run up the steps to the plane and I stay still in my spot.

"No, hell no. I am not getting on a plane with them." Pope states. I agree, I don't want to be on a plane with Rafe. Especially not after everything he's done. I thought he loved me, but he cared more about what his horrible father thought of him than me. Pope and John B go back and for the before Sarah steps off. She goes on a rant about how it's her father's plane and if we want to find another way we can.

Soon, Rafe steps off and Pope glares at him.

"Pope, not here," I warn him. As Rafe gets to the bottom of the steps Pope's hand comes to his shoulder.

"We're not done." Rafe shoots him a glare and walks away. Cleo makes sure Pope gets on the plane. Rafe looks at Sarah and there's a weird silence for a few seconds.

"Please take care of him." She brushes past him. I stay in my spot, I know he's going to try to talk to me, but I don't want him to. John B goes to walk past him, but he stops him.

"You do anything to him, anything, I swear to god I'll find you." They glare at each other for a few seconds before John B walks away.

"Y/N!" He yells over his shoulder. I slowly start walking but I feel a large hand grab my wrist before I could touch the steps.

"Y/N..." Rafe steps closer so his nose brushes over my temple.

"What," I say, I don't look at him, because if I do, my walls will break down again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I messed it all up and I regret every moment of it. If I could do it all over, I would have done it differently. I love you, only ever you." He presses his forehead to the side of mine and I can feel tears start to fall down his face. I finally turn to face him and every piece of my heart breaks at the sight of his face.

"Rafe..." My hands cup his face and he breaks down even more.

"I need you to know that I'm sorry. I need you to know I love you. I need you to know everything, y/n." I press my forehead to his.

"I know, Rafe. I know, and I know you can be better than this. Promise me that you're going to try. Try to get better. When I get back, I'll find you and I'll help you." Our noses brush against one another and tears start to pool in my eyes as well.

"I promise, y/n." I nod then lean up to press a kiss on his lips. He pulls me closer to deepen it. My heart shatters even more. I love him so much, I've never stopped.

"Goodbye, Rafe." I turn away because if I don't, I'll stay. I need to help Jonh B right now. I hear Rafe's broken sobs behind me and the tears in my eyes finally fall as the plane door shuts. He's gone, I'm gone. Even if I do make it back, I know I can never go back to him, because he'll never change. Not even for me.

[amakumos]

kiss and cry — yang jungwon.

synopsis. At the age of 22, Yang Jungwon wants to retire. The ice, which was what he considered his second home, does not seem as welcoming as it used to be. Figure skating is no longer fun - the sport that he devoted his entire childhood to seems more of a chore, rather than a passion. He claims that this season will be his last as a competitive figure skater - that is, until he meets you, who somehow makes him fall in love with the ice (and you) again.

genre. fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, slowburn (?), figure skating au

pairing. figure skater! jungwon x figure skater fem! reader

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, coaching abuse and unhealthy training habits, jungwon is 22, reader is 21, and both compete for south korea. set during the 2025/2026 figure skating season. major character retirement (wait and find out)

word count. 22k

author's note. gosh. am i surprised that the most i've ever written is a figure skating fic? no, not particularly. i was watching so many of yuzuru hanyu's programs while writing this and oh god. only fanyus will understand the immense impact the beat drop into the chsq has in pyc seimei. fucking hell that's powerful. anyways, this fic is my baby and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ^_^ here's a playlist u can listen to while reading if you'd like and feel free to lmk what u think!

ONE. negative (goe.)

Where is home to Yang Jungwon?

Jungwon thinks that he has two.

First, he would obviously say his apartment. The plush couch, the comfort of his own bed, and sunlight peeking through the curtains in the morning – Jungwon is comfortable when he is home. 

His second home, albeit a little bit unconventional – is the ice skating rink. His blades gliding against the smooth ice, cool air hitting his face as he skates, the chatter of his training partners ringing in his ears when he’s trying to focus that he finds annoying when he’s trying to focus. 

But his second home seems a little less welcoming and comfortable lately. The passion that he once held for the sport that he loved seems to be diminishing day by day, like a fire that’s almost been put out. 

Jungwon devoted his entire life to this sport. Maybe a little too much of it, even. 

His childhood was seemingly swept away by the ice. Instead of running around the playground, making friends with other children his age, Jungwon was spending hours of his day jumping and spinning, wearing boots with blades on them.

At one point, even falling over on a jump that he’d have to repeat for hours seemed like something he could use as determination. I’ll be able to do it the next time I jump it, was his thought. 

But now, when he falls, all he feels is that he wants to quit. 

Jungwon knows that if he gave up that easily when he was younger, he wouldn’t even be half the figure skater he was today. Standing on top of that podium didn’t bring him the same amount of joy as when he stood there a couple years ago. A small smile would grace his lips, showing courtesy – but deep inside, Jungwon could only describe the feeling he felt as numbness. 

Because what did all these medals truly mean to him? Success brought him joy a couple years ago, but now it only puts pressure on him. 

Pressure to do better. Pressure to get the scores that he deserved. Pressure to show the other skaters that he was better. 

Figure skating is no longer fun for Yang Jungwon. 

The sport feels draining – as if every minute spent skating on that sheet of ice sucked all the energy out of him. The movements that he did with such vigour just a couple years ago now seem sloppy to him, even if they aren’t to the audience. His limbs move around robotically, without elegance or gracefulness. 

Yang Jungwon feels like a robot. 

Programmed to do this quad lutz at a certain moment. Programmed to execute the hydroblade to perfection a few seconds later. Even programmed to smile brightly, holding up the gold medal while standing at the top of the podium when he doesn’t feel a single emotion at all. 

So, Jungwon thinks it’s time to hang up his skates. 

Yes, 22 might be a little too early to end his career as a competitive figure skater, but Jungwon is done. He’s tired of the ice, which is something that he never thought he’d say, or even think. The ice doesn’t bring him joy, and competitions don’t bring the adrenaline and thrill that he’d used to feel. Winning doesn’t make him feel pride. Instead, he feels burdened. 

“Next season will be my last season as a competitive figure skater,” he tells his coach, Irene. 

Irene isn’t shocked. But she’s strongly against Jungwon’s decision. Jungwon knew she’d react like this. 

“You’re so young, Jungwon! You still have a couple of years to go – you can make it to the next Olympics too. You’ll be 26 then, and you can… you know, retire after skating at the biggest stage.” 

“I will be skating at the biggest stage next year, if I make it into the Olympic team. Then, I will be retiring at the biggest stage.” Jungwon tells her, lacing up his skates. Even tying the laces feels frustrating – and Jungwon knows that he truly does not want to do this anymore. 

“But you have to give a reason, Jungwon. I know you’re tired, and you lack passion for skating, but why don’t you just take a break? Maybe you’ll regain your motivation, regain your passion for the sport. You’re already one of the greats – you could be even greater.” 

Irene would consider Jungwon to be her star pupil. He’s stuck with her ever since he swapped coaches when he was 8 – and he’s never spoken a word about wanting to be coached by anyone else. In fact, Jungwon was one of Irene’s first students after she herself retired from competition. Jungwon was her first student to podium internationally, first student to land a quad in competition, and first student to make it to the Olympics in 2022, back when Jungwon was 18. 

He placed 6th. Not bad, for his first ever Olympics. 

Jungwon remembers the day when he was called up to the South Korean Olympic team. All he felt was pride. On every young athlete’s bucket list, being able to compete in the Olympics was at the top of that list, and Jungwon was no exception. He remembers being an emotional wreck, crumpling into tears of joy. The Olympics was a figure skater’s biggest stage. Skating on Olympic ice seemed unreal, until Jungwon found out that he would be doing exactly that. 

Jungwon wants to feel the exact feeling he felt when he skated on Olympic ice. He wants to feel pride, passion, and joy – not emptiness. Jungwon knew that he was competing with the best of the best, and a medal at the Olympics would be incredible, but Jungwon just wanted to skate. The Olympics seemed to be like a mark for him – he’s made it. He’s skated at the biggest stage for an athlete, and no matter the result, he would be grateful and happy that he was able to compete on Olympic ice. 

4 years ago, Jungwon just wanted to skate. 

Now, Jungwon wants to leave the ice behind. 

You could be even greater. Irene’s words have no impact on Jungwon. He doesn’t think he has any desire to become greater. If anything, Jungwon just wants to learn how to love this sport again – but he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to. 

“That’s the problem, Irene. I don’t want to be greater anymore. I’m tired of this. I have no passion in what I do – why would I continue doing something that I don’t love?” 

“Jungwon–”

“I don’t think anything can change my mind, Irene. I’m really done,” he sighs. Jungwon gives his coach a small, sad smile. “So… let’s make the next season great, hmm? I’ll go out with a bang.” 

Irene gives Jungwon a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay.” 

“I have music ideas already,” Jungwon says, and Irene nods. “Tell me what you have in mind, and we can go through it with Taemin.”

“I was thinking for the short program, A Walk In The Skies by Joe Hisaishi. From the Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack, and for the free, World Dreams. Also by Joe Hisaishi. A couple fans from a few years back told me that they’d like to see me skate to those songs, so… I’ve decided I will. They gave me a list of other options, but… I like these two the best.” 

“Okay. I’ll talk with Taemin about them.” Irene says, and Jungwon notices the look on his coach’s face. He knows that she’s not happy with his decision, because Irene’s never really liked people who give up. Jungwon thinks that to her, his decision seems to be as if he’s saying that he’s giving up. 

In one way, he is. But now that Jungwon thinks about it, does he have any other goals in this sport? He’s won Nationals. He’s won Grand Prix Final. He’s won Four Continents. He’s won Worlds. He’s been to the Olympics. The one thing he hasn’t done is win an Olympic medal, and maybe he’ll be able to do it next season. But Jungwon thinks that he’s checked off most of the boxes on his figure skating career goal list, and combined with the fact that he’s simply got no love for the sport left, he thinks hanging up his skates is the best idea. 

He gives Irene an apologetic look, even though he feels like he doesn’t really have to apologise for anything. He then makes his way onto the rink, skating a few laps around to warm up. 

He skates his program from last season as practice, first jumping a quad salchow that he lands cleanly. The sound of the blades scratching the surface of the ice no longer brings him comfort, but Jungwon continues skating around the rink as he enters into a back counter triple axel, landing it cleanly as well. 

Jungwon executes the rest of the elements well, with no falls or underrotations on his jumps. He presses his lips into a thin line when he finishes skating his program, putting his hands on his hips as he sighs. 

“That was good.” Irene said. “Gold medal worthy.” 

“Thanks.” Jungwon replies. He would usually feel nothing but joy when Irene would compliment his skating like that. 

But Jungwon finds that a gold medal is something he does not desire anymore. 

TWO. triple double camel spin axel 

The off-season is great. 

The pressure of competition is gone, and you’re able to rest without intense preparation and training for a couple weeks before you’re back to your usual routine. 

You do decide to head to the rink today though, just so you can get in some skating time with your new coach. 

Irene Bae was your idol growing up. When you saw her skate at the Olympics from the comfort of your own home at the age of 4, you knew that you wanted to be like her. Graceful and elegant, yet powerful and strong on the ice.

Your parents enrolled you in skating classes at the age of 3, and it was like the ice was practically calling your name. Your first coach, Hyuna, had told your parents that you had talent — and encouraged them to let you continue skating. 

And so you did. As the years went by, what your first coach said proved to be true — you did have talent. You won medal after medal, and you were said to be a rising star. 

So when the opportunity arose for you to be coached by none other than your idol, you of course had to take it. 

When she complimented you on your skating, you nearly screamed. Having the person you’ve admired for your whole life telling you that you were doing great gave you a huge confidence boost — and you’d like to think that her words encouraged you and made you do even better than you usually did during your free skate at Worlds.

Being coached by the Irene Bae seemed surreal. She won one silver, one bronze medal at the Olympics, was a 2 time worlds winner and a six-time national champion. She was even known for being an incredible coach, coaching skaters like Yang Jungwon, and Kim Jiwon — who would now be your training mates.

You feel nothing but excitement when you enter the Taereung International Skating Rink, and you hear the sound of blades across ice that brings a smile to your lips. You see Irene, standing rinkside with her arms crossed, and skating on the rink, is Yang Jungwon.

Yang Jungwon’s made quite a name for himself in the last few years. 6th at the 2022 Olympics, a great finish for someone who was only 18 at the time. He also just won Worlds, and was a five-time national champion. 

Yang Jungwon is an incredible skater. His movements on the ice are as fluid and soft as water, but when he jumps, he’s incredibly powerful, like a rocket taking off. You’ve seen many people say that Jungwon’s one of the few ‘complete skaters’ — those who can combine artistry with jumping seem to be extremely rare nowadays. 

He’s one of those skaters that can get you mesmerised the second he steps onto the ice, and when he finishes his program, loud applause resounds throughout the arena, with tons of people throwing cat plushies onto the ice.

Jungwon is incredibly talented. Thinking about the fact that you two are going to be training mates brings a smile to your face — all the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon went quite well. You remember his pleasant voice and his kind smile, the one where his eyes crinkle into crescents and could make anyone swoon. 

You make your way over to Irene, who turns her head and greets you with a kind smile when she sees you. “(Name)!” she beams, wrapping you in a hug. “Nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Irene!” you say, and she smiles at you. “I’m excited to be working with you.” she tells you, and her words just fill you up with joy.

“Thank you so much,” you beam. “I’m excited to be coached by you.” A smile graces Irene’s lips at your words. “Jungwon’s on the ice right now, with Taemin. He’s just learning the last part of his choreography for his short program for next season.” she tells you, and you nod.

“Jiwon’s gone for lunch break, and Eunchae and Jongseob should be somewhere around here… you can go meet with them and say hi later.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Irene!” Taemin, the choreographer, calls out to her. “Jungwon’s got this. He’ll absolutely kill it.” 

You notice how Irene and Taemin’s smiles seem wider than Jungwon’s when Taemin says that. The smile plastered on Jungwon’s lips barely reaches his eyes. 

“Why don’t you go lace up your skates? You and Jungwon can share the rink.” Irene suggests to you, and you nod. You find a seat, pulling out your skates from your skate bag as you take your regular sports shoes off, slipping into your skating boots. You tie the laces incredibly quickly — after all, you have been doing this for years.

You take off your skate guards, leaving them on the bench as you skate onto the rink, skating laps to warm yourself up as you put your gloves on. 

Somewhere along the way, you find yourself accompanied by Jungwon, who catches up to you. “Hey,” he says. “Heard that Irene’s coaching you now.” 

“Yeah,” you beam. “We’ll be training mates from now on, huh?” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Saw you practicing your short program for next season… you’ve started quite early. Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack?” 

“Mhm,” Jungwon says. “I like to get started earlier, so I’m more familiar with it when it’s time to compete. Do you have any ideas for the music you might skate to?” 

“Oh, I’ve got no idea. My friend told me to skate to Bolero, though.” you say, and you see Jungwon grimace at your words. You let out a loud laugh that makes Jungwon chuckle. “Bolero? Really?” he asks.

“Riki knows nothing about figure skating, but I think he goes on Twitter to find what music people hate seeing skaters skate to the most… Bolero is definitely one of them, which is probably why he recommended it to me.” you laugh. “Once he even asked me if I could do a ‘triple double camel spin axel’. Like what in the world is that?” 

Your words make Jungwon burst into laughter, and you think it’s one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“A triple double camel spin axel? Your friend might just have invented a new jump.” he quips, and you nod. “Are you ready for the Olympics next year?” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“Who says I’ll make it?” 

“Of course you’ll make it. Your skating’s great.” Jungwon says, and you thank him. “You’ll definitely make it. To next year and the one after. You’ll probably make it to the one in 2034 too.” 

“Hah, that’s funny. But no, I won’t be making it to the 2030 or the 2034 one. It’s probably nice to think about, though.” Jungwon replies. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What? Why? I mean... maybe 2034 is a bit of a stretch, but surely the 2030 one.” 

“I’m retiring after this season.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at his words. Yang Jungwon was going to retire? At the age of 22? Was he joking? 

You almost can’t believe it.

“What? Why?” 

“I don’t like skating anymore.” he hums, and he says it so casually. “It’s more of a chore now, rather than something I love. I guess I fell out of love with the ice.”

You can somewhat understand how he feels. You had burnout too, but you never got to the point where you wanted to quit. You just wanted to take a break, to refresh your mind and to take care of your health and body. 

But Jungwon sounds like he’s determined to quit. As if nothing will get him to change his mind.

“What would it take for you to fall back in love with it?” you ask.

Jungwon shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything would be able to change my mind at this point. Skating is just so incredibly… draining. I want to enjoy it as much as I used to, but I just don’t think I can continue competing.” 

He sounds like he’s truly given up hope on finding love for the sport again, and it makes your heart ache. Yang Jungwon is undoubtedly one of the best figure skaters you’ve ever seen, and to see him possibly end his career because he just simply ran out of love for the sport saddens you. 

And for some reason, you want to try and get him to fall back in love with the ice again. 

So with a sudden burst of confidence and determination, you decide to ask him: “Are you free any time next week?” 

Jungwon looks at you, puzzled. “Yes?”

“I’m going to try and get you to fall back in love with the ice.”

“(Name), I’ve made up my mind—” 

“That’s fine. I just want you to enjoy skating again. No competition, just having fun. You know, I was in the audience the day you won the Grand Prix final two years ago. You looked so, so, incredibly happy — I want you to feel the same feeling you felt when you were skating on that ice.” 

Jungwon looks at you hesitantly. “You’d do that for me?” 

You nod. “We can get to know each other better too. What do you say?” 

Jungwon pauses for a moment to think. 

“Sure.”

You beam at him. “Cool. I’ll give you my number after practice and we can make arrangements.” 

Jungwon nods, and you two end your conversation there, focusing on training instead. 

As you land a clean triple salchow-triple toeloop on the ice, you add a new goal to your bucket list.

Get Yang Jungwon to fall in love with figure skating again.

THREE. seal skating aid

You meet up with Jungwon two days later at a public skating rink with a bright smile on your face. 

He looks confused when he sees the amount of people who have come to the rink today. “How are we supposed to skate with this many people here?” 

You smile, lacing up your skates. “We can still skate. We just can’t jump.” 

Jungwon looks hesitantly at you. “But skating laps is boring,” he says. “How am I going to fall back in love with skating like this?” 

“Because,” you say. “This was how you first fell in love with it as a kid. You didn’t know how to jump, how to spin, or how to do spirals. Sometimes doing simple things, such as just skating around the rink can be fun. There’s no pressure of needing to execute certain elements properly — look at everyone skating here today. They’re just here to have fun.” 

Jungwon looks at the people skating on the rink. There’s a bunch of couples, holding hands as they enjoy their date. There’s also lots of kids taking classes, learning how to balance on their skates just like he did when he was younger. There’s also two or three people who do seem like they’re good skaters, and Jungwon spots one of them doing a Biellmann spin right in the middle of the rink. 

And you are right. This was what the first rink Jungwon stepped on looked like. The rink he skated on wasn’t as busy as this, but sure enough, there were couples, kids that were learning to skate, and people like the girl doing the Biellmann spin was what made him think that he wanted to be able to do something like that. 

You motion for Jungwon to join you as you step onto the ice, and he does. You two skate around the rink slowly — much slower than Jungwon is used to. He sees a couple of young kids who seemingly recognise you and him, pointing you two out to their friends.

“You’re famous,” he says, chuckling. “You’re more famous, Mr Placed 6th In The Olympics.” you reply, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s still 6th. Not a podium finish.” he says, and you sigh. “6th is crazy good for an 18 year old. Plus, you were competing with the greatest of the greats.” 

“That’s true, I suppose.” Jungwon muses. “I’ll just do better this year. Might as well go out with a bang, hmm?” 

“I guess so.” you say. 

Jungwon looks around him, seeing little kids who are seemingly learning how to skate for the first time struggle with their balance. He discreetly motions for them to put their arms out and bend their knees, to which they do. They seem to balance a lot better, and Jungwon gives them a soft smile.

Those kids remind him of himself when he was first learning how to skate. A helmet perched on his head with his knee and elbow guards on, and rental skates that Jungwon would never even dare to wear now. He ran onto the ice, falling over — then getting back up. Falling over, then getting back up.

When it comes to skating, Jungwon now feels like he’s fallen. And he can’t seem to just muster the strength to get himself back up. 

Perhaps you will be able to get him to ignite the passion that he had for figure skating once again, but there’s a chance that it won’t happen. 

Jungwon realised that it hurts to fall out of love with the very thing you sacrificed your entire life for. His childhood was spent at the rink, doing the one thing he knew best — skating. Now that he realises his passion for the sport has crumbled away, all he can ask himself is: was it worth it?

Jungwon wants to say yes. But he isn't quite sure if he believes that now, considering that the ice no longer feels like home.

“You’re thinking a lot.” you hum, and Jungwon nods. “I was just thinking about… how I started.

You motion for him to go on.

“I used to love skating. I loved it more than anything,” Jungwon says, staring at the ice. He once said that the boots on his feet somehow felt molded to his body, since he wore them so much. But now, these exact boots are uncomfortable — they are suffocating, and Jungwon knows that when he's under the pressure of competition, he’ll want nothing more than to take them off. “But now, I just feel emptiness. And I’m just thinking… what could’ve gone wrong?”

“I don’t think anything went wrong,” you reply. “I think you pushed too hard. Like you said, you devoted your entire life to this sport. Even the brightest of flames burn out. You just have to find the thing that’ll be able to light it back up again.” 

“That’s poetic.” Jungwon says. “Being a poet was my backup career option, if this whole… skating on knife boots thing didn’t work out.” you quip, and Jungwon cracks a smile.

“This conversation got deep,” Jungwon says. “Sorry for bringing the mood down. I know we’re here to have fun.” he says, and you shrug. “It’s alright. Maybe letting out your feelings about it will help too,” you say. 

“Maybe,” Jungwon says. “But I think I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I need to try and rid myself of these emotions, because I’ll just end up overthinking and I’ll end up spiralling.” 

You nod. “That’s fair.”

You then spot a seal shaped skating aid, and you look at Jungwon with a twinkle in your eye. You skate a little faster to get to it, and you bring it back to where Jungwon’s standing, and you motion for him to sit down.

“What?” Jungwon asks, confused.

“Sit down!” you beam. “I’ll push you around the rink.” 

Jungwon reluctantly sits down, burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. He feels like he’s 4 years old, with his sister pushing him around the rink. But he also remembers how fun it was, the cool air hitting his face as loud music played from the speakers in the rink. Christmas music, Jungwon remembered it being.

“I’m gonna push you now,” you say, and Jungwon nods. You start skating, and you begin to skate faster — your blades scratch across the surface of the ice as a small smile begins to make its way across Jungwon’s lips.

Jungwon never thought skating laps could be so… fun. It’s like he forgot this feeling — skating with no jumps, no spins, no spirals. Just moving forward. It was so simple.

Simple is fun, Jungwon realises.

Simply skating forwards seems more exciting than the intricate movements he has to make. He doesn’t need to worry about possibly falling on a quad, he doesn’t need to worry about underrotating a jump, or getting an edge call — he can just skate. 

“Wait,” Jungwon suddenly says, and then you stop.

“Let me push you,” he says, getting up. You nod, plopping yourself down onto the seat as Jungwon grips the handle on the skating aid, which is shaped like a seal’s tail.

Jungwon starts skating, pushing the skating aid forward. He skates around the rink, moving faster with each lap he makes, and you put your hands up as if you’re riding a rollercoaster.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” you ask.

Yes, Jungwon thinks. This is quite fun. 

Despite just skating laps in a public skating rink, Jungwon thinks this might be the most fun he’s had on the rink in the last year.

FOUR. one ice show, two realisations

You see Jungwon two days later at the rink. 

He waves at you from the ice, taking a sip from his water bottle. His phone pings with a message, and he picks it up to view the text.

His fingers fly over the screen as he types a response while you lace up your skates. “Who’s texting?” you ask, skating onto the rink.

“Oh, just Yuzu.” 

“You’re talking about two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah. We’re friends.” he says, placing his phone back onto the bench. 

“What’d he say?” you ask — you don’t mean to be nosy, but Jungwon seems more than comfortable with telling you what the Japanese figure skater had texted him about. “Fantasy on Ice,” Jungwon replies. “The organisers wanted to reach out to me and ask me to join them on the tour, so he probably texted to give me a heads up.” 

“You should definitely do it, Jungwon!” you smile, and Jungwon purses his lips. “I don’t know.” he says, and he seems hesitant to accept Yuzuru’s offer.

You cross your arms. “Remember, it’s not a competition. Ice shows are meant to be fun. It doesn’t matter if the performance isn’t perfect — as long as you're having fun, and the audience is having fun, then that’s all that matters.” 

“Right.” he gulps. “I just haven’t done an ice show in a while.” 

“It’ll be a good experience to have, Jungwon. You can get rid of the pressure to prepare everything for next season and just enjoy skating, and you can go make new friends too.” you say, and Jungwon seems to consider it.

“I only have one gala program prepared.”

“Choreograph a new one.”

“Taemin’s busy.” 

“You don’t have to ask Taemin. Choreograph one yourself.” you suggest, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to do that.” 

“Jungwon, you’re an artist. You can come up with something.”

“It’ll be bad.” 

“Have some confidence in yourself,” you say, patting his shoulder. “You won’t know if you’re good or bad at it until you try, right?” 

Jungwon gulps again. “Right.” 

“So are you going to take up Hanyu’s offer?” 

Jungwon shrugs. “Maybe.” 

“Make that maybe a yes,” you say. “Really, skating in an ice show might help you enjoy skating again. Trust me. The crowd hypes you up, the skaters are all supportive, and it’s just a really nice environment to be in.”

Jungwon ponders the idea for a moment. Maybe he should really do this ice show. He hasn’t performed in a non-competition capacity in a while, excluding the galas after competitions. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nice to skate without the pressure of competition.

But the little voice in his head tells him that he absolutely needs to work on his programs next season. He wants to go out with a bang — he can’t do that if he’s underprepared.

Then your voice rings in his head. Fuck it, he hears you say.

A few shows can’t possibly hinder his performance that much. And it’s not like he won’t get any practice time in, and he’s already learnt the choreography for both programs… so it shouldn’t be a problem… right? 

Jungwon wants to love skating again. 

Maybe an ice show is the second step out of many in his quest to possibly find his love for skating again.

“Okay.” he says, picking up his phone. He moves his thumb over Yuzuru’s contact, typing an ‘I’d be interested’ before sending it without hesitation. You look pleasantly surprised, a smile on your lips as he places down his phone before looking at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small grin. 

“Nothing,” you say, looking down at your skates. “I’m just happy you’re trying to regain your passion for this sport.”

Jungwon hums. “Yes. I hope I will be able to.” 

“I hope you can too.” you say. “This ice show might help you change your mind.” 

“I just wanted to ask you — why did you offer to help me try and love the ice again?” he asks, and you purse your lips. 

This conversation is not an easy one to have, you think. 

“I guess it’s because I’ve been through something similar,” you start. “There’s a whole backstory to this, so I might as well tell you. I was 13 when I started being coached by Seo Minju.”

When you brought up Seo Minju, Jungwon knew that what you were about to say was not going to be pleasant at all. A couple of friends Jungwon had were also coached by Seo Minju, and had ended up getting multiple injuries — and some even had to retire early. 

“I trained… way too much, to say the least. More than you do now. I was breaking my body and my mind from the inside out, training even though I was — excuse my language — fucking exhausted. There was a point where in the middle of JGP Courchevel, I felt like I’d black out after I did a triple axel.” you say, and pressing your lips together in a thin line as you relive the memories that you’ve always wanted to forget. 

“And I was in so much pain. I don’t know how I still trained with that much pain — I guess it was Seo who tried to make me keep going. Then one day… I just fractured my ankle,” you gulp, as Jungwon looks at you with his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes seem to be watery. 

“The doctors said my career could have ended. That was the most terrifying thing to hear as a 14 year old kid. I had to rest, heal, and I couldn’t be on the ice for months. I swapped coaches, almost immediately after I got the diagnosis. And when I was told that I could go back onto the ice again, I was fucking terrified. I was scared that one wrong move would end my entire career for good.”

You sigh. “It took me months to heal. I still loved the ice — but my fear of it seemed stronger than my love for it. I had to relearn new techniques, get back my triples… that’s why I disappeared for a whole season. And when I managed to become comfortable with the ice again, I kind of just started thinking in a different perspective. I guess I kind of just want you to maybe think of the sport differently than the way you see it now. Because at the end of the day, when we decided to start, it was because we loved it, right?” 

Jungwon finds that a tear trickles down his cheek after you finish speaking. “Don’t cry,” you say, a frown on your face. “I’m okay now.” 

“I’m so sorry.” he says, and you smile. “It’s okay. I just kind of always have to remember to take more care of this ankle right here,” you say, pointing to your right ankle. “My problem child.” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Jungwon’s only gotten to know you better in the past few weeks, but he thinks that you’re the most incredible and most admirable person he’s ever met. And the fact that you would go out of your way to try and help him enjoy skating again — it makes warmth bloom across Jungwon’s chest and fills him with nothing but happiness. 

He thinks he’ll be eternally grateful for you.

“Come here,” he says, arms held out to pull you in a hug. You skate closer to him, and he wraps his arms around you, and you do the same, wrapping your arms around him.. Jungwon’s hugs are comforting, and you feel nothing but warmth despite you both standing in the middle of an ice skating rink.

He smells like fresh linen, you realise.

You also realise that you don’t really want to let go.

FIVE. spiralling 

You receive a message from the Fantasy On Ice organisers a few days later as well, asking if you’d like to join them on tour.

Of course you say yes.

Jungwon seems more cheerful lately. His mood dampens a little bit when he’s on the ice, but it seems barely noticeable to Jiwon and Jongseob — maybe you're just extra attentive when it comes to him.

Jungwon will admit that he is feeling a little bit better. Skating to a program that he knows he doesn’t have to compete with is freeing, fun even. But the little devil on his shoulder keeps pestering him, telling him that he has to focus on next season’s programs.  

Jungwon tells the devil to fuck off.

He heads back to his apartment, the weight on his shoulders slightly less heavy than it was a couple weeks ago. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might get to love skating again.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised by his cousin, Wonyoung, who stands in front of the door with balloons in her hands. “Congrats on your Worlds win!” 

She pulls Jungwon in for a hug. “You’re two weeks late, Wonyo.” he jokes, and Wonyoung scoffs. “I texted you, because I was in Paris and I couldn’t come watch you.”

“I know, I know.” Jungwon says, putting his skate bag away before he flops on the couch, Wonyoung sitting next to him. “How’s skating?” she asks.

“Terrible,” Jungwon responds. “Well, not entirely. But 90% terrible.” 

Wonyoung looks surprised. “What? You just won a major competition though.”

“Yeah. I guess. But it’s not exactly fun anymore,” Jungwon sighs, and Wonyoung frowns. “I feel way too much pressure to be perfect. Every day of my life, it’s just training, training, training — I feel like I know nothing outside of figure skating.” 

Jungwon’s phone rings, and he furrows his eyebrows before pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. It’s Jangmi, his older sister.

“Hello?” Jungwon says, putting his sister on speaker mode. 

“Why did we have to find out from Irene that you’re retiring?” Jangmi’s tone does not seem happy, and Wonyoung, who’s sitting beside him, seems shocked. 

Jungwon sits up properly, frowning at his sister’s words. “Because I didn’t think that it was any of your business at the time, and probably because I would’ve told you when I was ready?” he replies. “Why do you sound so angry?” 

“You’re like… 22. You’re way too young to retire.” 

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Jangmi.” Jungwon says, sighing. 

“Why are you even retiring anyways? It’s not like you’re injured or anything.” she says, and Jungwon frowns. “I just don’t love the sport anymore, Jangmi. I should be able to retire when I want to, and I think that I want to.” 

“All because you don’t love the sport? You’re throwing away all those years of your training because you don’t love it anymore? You’re just finding an excuse to quit, Jungwon — and you know our family doesn’t like quitters.”

Jangmi’s words make Jungwon fume. He’s furious, and Wonyoung can tell from the way his expression immediately changes from frustration to one of pure anger. 

“You would never understand, Jangmi. I sacrificed my entire childhood for this sport and I wish I fucking knew why I fell out of love with it but I just don’t know why, okay? I wish I could just suddenly start fucking love skating like I did when I was 4, but that’s not possible! I’ve gotten to the point where I simply just cannot continue because I’m not going to spend my days being miserable doing something that I don’t love.” Jungwon’s hands tremble as he holds his phone, tears welling in his eyes and Wonyoung pats his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him — it does not seem to work at all.

“Do your medals and titles really mean nothing to you? Do they not give you motivation to keep going? You’re literally Yang Jungwon, Olympian, 2025 World Champion, and a 5 time national champion!”

“They seem to mean more to you than they do to me.” Jungwon says.

“Jungwon, you can’t give up.”

“But I can.” 

“Jungwon—”

“Jangmi, I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Call me when you can accept my decision.” Jungwon says, before hanging up. He sighs, leaning his head back on the headrest of his couch.

He blinks away the tears in his eyes, and he lets out a loud sigh.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung asks, even if she knows that her cousin is anything but okay.

“I’ll manage.” Jungwon replies, and Wonyoung gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Jungwon gives her a stiff smile. 

None of them say a word for a while, sitting in silence until Jungwon suddenly speaks up. “I just don’t know how this happened.” 

“What?” Wonyoung asks. 

“How I managed to start disliking the one thing I swore I’d love my whole life. I spent my entire life, I sacrificed my entire life just to get here… and now that I am here, I find that I suddenly hate skating. The passion I used to have seems like it just disappeared into thin air.” 

“What Jangmi said was wrong.” Wonyoung says. “It’s your career. Do whatever you want.” 

“But now that I think about it, do I really want to retire?” Jungwon lets out a sad laugh. “I was telling my friend, (Name), that I wanted to love skating again. Maybe that’s just all I want.” 

Jangmi’s phone call somehow really struck a chord within Jungwon. He knew that his sister only cared about his titles — it’s been like that since they were kids. Saying I’m figure skater Yang Jungwon’s sister somehow gave her an automatic “cool” pass. Then it became national champion Yang Jungwon. Then, Olympian Yang Jungwon.

Figure skating is all Jungwon’s ever known. Saying that he wants to retire seems easy enough when he knows he hates what he does. But when his last competition rolls around, Jungwon knows that leaving the ice might be the most difficult thing he’s had to do, ever.

Jungwon might hate the sport he’s sacrificed his life for, but what he hates more is that he allowed himself to start hating it.

SIX. rental skates

After a few weeks of practising your gala performance and a little bit of your programs for next season, you and Jungwon are headed to Japan for Fantasy On Ice.

Jungwon hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately. You’ve tried to cheer him up, and it works sometimes, but he still looks exhausted and tired of it whenever he steps on the ice.

You hope the ice show will make him feel better. Sometimes performing to an upbeat and supportive crowd can help cheer people up (at least that’s what it’s like for you.)

You’ve given him supportive comments while you’re watching him rehearse his program for the show, and you manage to get him to crack small smiles while he’s skating — you know he’ll have to take this one step at a time.

You two are seated beside each other on the plane, and Jungwon settles into his seat comfortably, headphones propped on his head over a baseball cap.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask him, and he shrugs. “I haven’t participated in an ice show for a while. I really don’t know what to expect…. so I’m a bit worried.” he replies.

“Don’t worry. Ice shows are meant to just be for fun,” you say. “Skating is something you should enjoy with the audience.”

Your take is interesting. All his life, Jungwon has just been aiming for the medals — he never thought about how he was feeling while he skated. It was as if his mind was blank, only knowing that he had to do this certain element at this certain time. 

Because getting medals was what would bring him joy, right? 

That was what Jungwon used to think. 

“Mhm.” he replies. 

He doesn’t know why his sister’s words from weeks ago are still stuck in his mind. He goes quiet, lips downturned into a small frown that you notice. 

“How’d you start liking the sport?” you ask Jungwon, noticing his mood to seemingly be less than pleasant. Maybe your question will help him take his mind off whatever’s been bugging him.

“My sister’s birthday party. We all went to the ice rink together. I remember just running onto the ice, and I fell a couple times. There was this one learn to skate class being held during it, and I just saw other kids my age having so much fun. Then, I saw this one girl do a Biellmann, and she did some double jumps too. And I thought — how cool would it be if I could do that?” he says, and he smiles a little when he thinks about those good memories.

“What about you?” he asks, taking a sip from his water bottle as the pilot notifies everyone that they’re about to take off.

“My parents just signed me up for skating lessons. But then I ended up really loving it after my first class.” you reply, and Jungwon nods.

“Now that I think about it, classes were really fun for me when I was a kid.” Jungwon says, and you crack a small smile. “We should do a learn to skate class for jokes,” you say, and Jungwon chuckles. “The coach would definitely ask us what we’re doing there. They’d be so confused.” he replies. 

“Let’s wear rental skates.” 

“Oh, god no.” Jungwon grimaces at the thought. “I swear the blades at the rink haven’t been sharpened for years.” 

“You should try a triple in rental skates,” you joke, and Jungwon makes a face, wincing. “I can already feel the pain from that… I’d most definitely fall and injure myself.” 

“No, you’d be good, Mr 2025 World Champion.” 

“You try it, Ms 2025 Grand Prix Final winner.” 

Jungwon thinks that he feels the most comfortable when he’s around you. It takes him a bit to warm up to people, but you two had formed a close relationship practically the minute you guys became training mates. Talking to you is easy, and fun – he doesn’t think he’s had a good laugh on the rink in years, and Jungwon realises that skating is more fun when you’re around.

Goofing around on the rink, taking practices seriously but also not at the same time is something that seems new to Jungwon, at least in the last few years. So seeing you find joy in practice, which is something he hasn’t been able to do for years, makes him think that maybe he could do that too. 

You encourage him, as well, pulling him into your antics that make Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae laugh. Slowly but surely, all your training mates seem to realise that Jungwon’s loosening up – he allows himself to have fun on the rink, and he allows himself to take breaks.

During a conversation between Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae, Jiwon had mentioned that she thought that Jungwon would probably fall in love with you. 

“She seems to make him happy,” was what she said. She’s not wrong, too – everyone’s noticed the way Jungwon seems to seem livelier and happier lately. Jongseob remembers the way Jungwon seemed to be constantly stressed, eyebrows almost always knitted together in worry, and never-ending sighs escaping past his lips. 

Jungwon’s love for skating hasn’t fully returned yet, but he thinks that he’s starting to like it a little again. It’s not as draining as it was before, and perhaps it’s because you’ve taught him that above all, skating should be fun. Jungwon allows himself to have fun on the ice for the first time in a couple of years, and when he glides across the ice with not a single ounce of worrying about him needing to prove that he’s the best, all he feels is relief. 

And he would be eternally grateful for you. For teaching him how to have fun on the ice again. To let go of all the pressure that’s been on his shoulders for years, and just to enjoy the sport.

Gold medals and countless titles might have brought him fulfilment years ago. But now, he thinks that simply just skating would bring the same amount of fulfilment, if not maybe even more.

SEVEN. side by side (quad toe)

Ice show practices are fun. 

Everyone’s got a smile on their faces. The first thing Jungwon notices is how warm and welcoming everyone is. The minute he walks into the rink alongside you, he’s welcomed with a hug from Harua, a figure skater from Japan that he remembers having a few nice conversations with during competitions. 

“It’s nice to see you again!” Harua beams. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jungwon replies, even though he saw him at Worlds just a few months ago. “I know right?” Harua says. “I’m glad you’re joining us this year, though! I remember the organisers wanted to see if you wanted to join us last year, but Irene told them you were busy.” 

Jungwon brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, I was busy during the off-season last year. Preparing for competitions, you know… I thought I’d have a break from that and just join you guys this year.” 

“Mhm,” Harua nods, and he hears his name being called out by someone. “I think I’ve got to run along, but it was nice seeing you! It’ll be lots of fun. Nice seeing you too as well, (Name)! Let’s talk more later.” 

Harua runs off, as you give Jungwon an amused smile. “You guys seem close.” 

“We’re not super close… we’ve just talked to each other a couple times at competitions. He’s a really nice guy, though.” Jungwon says, taking his skates out of his skate bag. He looks at the rink, and there are a few skaters he recognises just warming up. 

“He does seem really nice.” you hum, sitting down next to him as you take your skates out from your bag as well.

“You ready?” he asks, standing up. You quickly finish lacing up your right boot before nodding. “Let’s go,” you say, linking arms with him as you lead him towards the rink.

You do it so casually that Jungwon needs a few seconds to process the action. He doesn’t know why his face starts feeling warm, and he doesn’t want you to let go of his arm.

The funniest thing is, the minute he thinks that, you let go, placing your hands into the pocket of your jacket.

“Hey, let’s do a side by side jump.” you suggest, and Jungwon nods. “Triple?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Nah, let’s do a quad. Quad toe?”

“Sure.” he says, and he starts skating, doing backward crossovers on the ice. “Should I count? How do pairs do this?” you say, as you skate beside him.

“Just count,” he says. 

“Okay, one, two, three.”

And you both take off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing, completely synchronised. You look at Jungwon with a huge smile on your face, giving him a high five. “Nice.” you say.

“That was good.” Jungwon says, patting you on the shoulder. “New pairs team in the making!” you two hear Jongseob joke, and Jungwon lets out a chuckle. 

You tell Jungwon that you’re going to practise your gala program for a bit, and he nods as he watches you skate off. You glide gracefully across the ice, Jungwon admiring how beautiful your jumps and spins are.

He doesn’t realise that his expression is one of awe until Harua points it out. “You look very enamoured, Jungwon.” he smirks, and Jungwon immediately snaps out of it.

“Huh… what?” he asks, almost as if he’s in a daze. He blinks a couple times, and Harua only chuckles. “Do you like (Name)?

“Of course I like (Name). She’s my friend.” he says, completely clueless to what Harua’s hinting at. “No, no, I mean like… in a romantic way.” 

A romantic way?

It might sound a little crazy, but Jungwon does not think he’s ever had a crush on someone in his 22 years of walking on this planet. Skating was his number one priority — love wasn’t anywhere on his list of priorities. In fact, Jungwon doesn’t even think he’s thought about love at all.

So Jungwon isn’t quite sure how to tell if his feelings for you are romantic or not, because he simply just doesn’t know what having a crush feels like. He knows that you linking arms with him was nice. He knows that he didn’t want you to let go of his arm.

Was that the first sign of a crush?

Jungwon truly didn’t know.

He scratches the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I don't… think so.” he replies, but it comes out sounding more like a question, and Harua only smiles at him, amused.

“Cool. Cool… tell me that next year when you two are dating.” the boy says, and Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “We’re not going to… what?”

“You seem much happier when you’re around her, you know.” Harua says, earnestly. “At Worlds, you didn’t seem very happy. You seemed tense, as if you were always burdened by something.” 

“But now, you seem like you’re feeling better. You’re smiling again.” Harua says, and Jungwon takes a few seconds to process his words. 

“She… she’s trying to get me to like skating again.” Jungwon says, and Harua lets out a knowing ‘ah’. “I guess I have started liking skating more again… because she’s helped me learn to have fun.”

“That’s good. See, your relationship is like a whole Netflix movie plot.” Harua quips.

“I really don’t see the vision you’re trying to paint in my head, Harua.” Jungwon says, and Harua shrugs. “Just think about your feelings when you’re around her. I guess if you feel like… warm, and happy when she’s around, you like her? Or if you think about her a lot. Or if you want to kiss her, I don’t know. You should Google it. Ask Google how to tell if you like someone, or something. You know it has all the answers.” 

Jungwon’s drawn to two parts of what Harua just said. One, the part being that Harua told him to ask Google how to tell if you liked someone, and two, the part where he told Jungwon to think about whether he wanted to kiss you. 

Jungwon’s not going to Google to ask for relationship advice. 

And Jungwon also doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or not. He doesn’t even know if he likes you romantically, either. All he knows is that you make him happy. Much happier than he used to be.

But when you skate up to him with a bright smile on your face, Jungwon feels his heart beat faster than it was just a few seconds ago. And he knows it’s not because he’s tired from skating, because after all, he has been standing still while talking to Harua.

Maybe he does like you. 

Just a little bit.

EIGHT. let me entertain you

Tonight is the first show of Fantasy on Ice for this year, and you’re bursting with excitement. 

You get dressed into the costume for the opening, and you raise an eyebrow when you see the dress. It’s not… terrible, but it’s not something you’d wear at all.

You leave the dressing room, looking into the mirror as you tilt your head. You walk towards the hair and makeup area, where Jungwon’s getting his hair done.

“Do I look okay?” 

Jungwon thinks his heart skips a beat. 

The costume is... alright, but that’s the case with Fantasy On Ice costumes every year. But, you make it look really, really good. Unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips, and you take it as a good sign.

“You look great.” he says, and you smile. 

“Thank you, Won!” 

You just called him a nickname. His smile seemingly gets wider as you scurry off, being called for your own hair and makeup to be done. 

“Do you see what I mean, Jungwon?” Harua says, sitting in the chair beside him. “I really don’t.” Jungwon replies.

“You two are definitely going to fall in love. I’ve got great matchmaking skills.” Harua smirks.

“Who’s falling in love?” Yuzuru asks, overhearing Harua’s words, and Jungwon buries his face in his hands. “Jungwon! And… (Name).” Harua says your voice very quietly, in fear that you might hear him.

“Oh?” Yuzuru says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys would be cute together. Did you guys get closer recently?” 

“Mhm,” Jungwon nods. “I don’t think I'm… in love though.”

“You’re married to the ice like Yuzu, huh?” Harua quips. “I said I wanted someone who would benefit my skating or be very supportive of it.” Yuzuru replies.

“Elsa.” 

“Enough.” 

“No, but I just haven’t thought about love, you know?” Jungwon says. “Skating takes up my whole life… I don’t exactly have the time to think about it.”

“Valid.” Yuzuru hums. “But seriously, you two would actually be really cute together. Harua says he hasn’t seen you smile genuinely in years.” 

Jungwon thinks Harua might be exaggerating a little. He would smile at Harua (genuine smiles!) after he finished skating. It was just during the skate, during the Kiss and Cry, and during the podium where Jungwon would do the smile that never quite ended up reaching his eyes. 

“You’re making me sound emo!” 

“You are though?”  Harua replies, laughing. “Wait, no… not anymore.” he nods his head in the direction of where you are, and Jungwon rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not falling in love.” he says, before getting up from his chair. He hears Harua say Whatever you say! teasingly, and Jungwon just shakes his head as he makes his way over to you. 

“Hey,” he says, greeting you as the makeup artist swipes a pretty pink colour on your lips. You look up at him, waving (because you can’t exactly smile right now.) 

“Hi! You’re lucky you’ve got a puffer jacket on. Man, it’s freezing here.” you say when the makeup artist is done, shivering slightly. For someone who’s on the ice almost all the time, your tolerance to the cold isn’t exactly high — but in your defence, they did have the aircon on in the room.

“You can just take mine,” Jungwon says, unzipping it. He drapes it over your shoulders, and the action suddenly makes your cheeks start feeling hot.

You’ve heard about this feeling before, but you don’t think you’ve ever really experienced it. If those movies and books were right, you think you might just have the tiniest crush on Yang Jungwon.

You think that becoming friends with Jungwon might’ve been one of the best decisions of your life. He’s kind — always caring about you even when he’s feeling down in the dumps. He’s funny too, but he doesn’t seem to show it to anyone other than you. And, he is undeniably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.

Him lending you his jacket just makes your heart flutter. 

“Oh, thank you.” you say, and for the first time, you find yourself at a loss for words when you’re talking to Jungwon.

“It’ll keep you warm until before the show starts.” he says, and you nod. “You ready?” you ask, and Jungwon shrugs. 

“I don’t know. I’m a bit scared. I hope I do well.” 

You take his hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “I know you’ll do well. And just remember that this is for fun. It’s not a competition. You’re here to have fun, you’re here to let the audience have fun.” 

“Okay.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll make sure to have fun.” 

“Loosen up, Wonie.” you beam at him. “The crowd will love you, I’m sure of it.” 

You see everyone starting to line up in order of their appearance for the opening, and thankfully, you’re behind Jungwon, so you two can continue your conversation.

“I just wanted to ask.” you start, and Jungwon hums, motioning for you to continue. “Do you think you’re starting to love skating again?”

Jungwon is silent for a moment.

“A little bit. Because now I know that skating is meant to be fun, above all.” he says, and you smile.

“Cool.”

“Thank you.” Jungwon grins at you.

“For what?” you ask.

“For helping me with liking skating again. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to find my love for it again. I guess I just thought that if I trained harder and got better results, I’d be happier with my skates… but I was wrong,” he replies. “I needed to learn how to have fun again. I needed to remember why I started loving the sport in the first place.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Won.”

“No, but I do. I know I wouldn’t have done this ice show if you didn’t convince me to. And from what I can tell and the cheers I can hear, I think it’ll be a lot of fun.” he smiles. “So thank you. For pushing me to loosen up. For pushing me to learn to have fun.”

“You’re welcome, then.” you smile. The organiser tells Jungwon that he’ll be up next. “You’ll kill it out there.” you say.

“So will you.”

Jungwon thinks that deciding to join this ice show might be one of the best decisions he’s made. 

NINE. ice days

Jungwon has never felt so happy to perform.

The crowd is loud, lively and cheers him on, applause sounding throughout the arena after he lands a jump. The atmosphere makes Jungwon excited to skate on the next show.

It’s been a while since Jungwon felt excitement towards the ice.

Cheers resound throughout the arena when he finishes his program, and he finds that he doesn’t have to plaster a smile on his face — he already is smiling. A huge, genuine smile. 

He doesn’t see you until the group number at the end, and when he spots you, he skates a little faster in order to catch up with you. “Hey, Won! You did great.” you say when you notice him skating beside you on your left. 

“Thank you,” he says, a smile on his lips. “You did great too.” 

“Was it fun?” you ask, playing with the coloured scarf tied around your neck. You notice that you and Jungwon have the same exact one – they’re both orange and pink (a colour combination that you’re not quite sure you like too much.)

“Yeah. It was really fun.” 

“What’d I tell you?” you say, grinning brightly at him. “There are a lot more shows after this, so you’ll get to experience all this over and over again.” 

“I’m glad you made me do this,” he says, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun on the ice in a long, long time.” 

“That’s good. Do you think my quest to help you love the ice again is working?” you ask.

“I think it is.” 

You take his hand and squeeze it. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Jungwon doesn’t notice the crowd seems to get louder after seeing your action. He thinks that someone must’ve done a cool trick, like Jongseob doing a backflip. 

“That’s enough, lovebirds!” Harua says, skating up to you two. “We’re about to leave the rink.” 

All the skaters skate to the centre of the rink, and Jungwon does too, with you following him. You all link hands, bowing at the audience before each of you leave the rink, one by one.

As Jungwon’s hand is in yours, you can’t stop thinking about Harua calling you two lovebirds. Obviously, you and Jungwon weren’t together, but now you can’t stop thinking that perhaps there could be a possibility, provided that you managed to figure out all the mixed feelings you had and if he reciprocated.

But strangely, something about Jungwon just makes you feel at home.

There is something so comforting about his presence. You feel at ease with Jungwon — it’s easy to talk to him, it’s easy to crack jokes when he’s around (you realised that you do it more often when he’s around just so you can see him laugh.)

It’s also easy to just sit in silence with Jungwon. Usually you’d feel compelled to fill the awkward silence, but with Jungwon, sometimes words don’t need to be shared. You feel like you’re able to understand him, and he’s able to understand you, despite only growing close during the off-season.

You’d like to think that he’s the closest friend in your circle of skater friends.

When you’re finished getting changed out of the costume and remove your makeup, you try to find Jungwon in the packed room, but to no avail. 

“Who are you looking for?” Kaori asks, and you turn around to face her. “Oh! Jungwon.” you say, and Kaori points in the direction she saw him go in. “He’s just over there, with Harua.” 

“Thanks!” you say, grinning at Kaori before heading in the direction she pointed at. Sure enough, Jungwon’s sitting there, typing away at his phone.

“Won!” you say, and he looks up, a smile immediately on his lips. “(Name)! I was waiting for you.” he says.

Your heart flutters. Harua smirks whilst trying to stifle a giggle. Jungwon shoots a pointed look at the boy.

“Oh?” you ask. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel together.” he says, standing up from his chair.

“Of course!” you reply, nodding. “Cool,” he says, placing his puffer jacket into his bag. “Harua says there’s a good ramen place around here.” 

“Yeah. It’s really good. I would go with you guys but then I’d be third-wheeling.” Harua says, still seated in his chair. Your cheeks flush pink at his words, whilst Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you be third-wheeling?” 

“Oh. Just because,” Harua says, a smirk on his lips. “You guys should run along now. They close pretty soon,” he checks the time on his phone.

“Well! We should hurry then… see you tomorrow, Harua.” you say, and Jungwon waves at the skater. “Bye!” 

Have fun on your date, Harua mouths at Jungwon. Jungwon rolls his eyes in response. 

“The crowd were cheering really loud for you tonight,” you tell Jungwon. “Oh, really?” he asks — he thought they were just as loud with everybody else. 

“There were less people in the audience during the last ice show I did, but yeah. They were really loud — they seemed to really enjoy your performance.”

A small, proud smile makes its way to Jungwon’s lips. “I’m glad they enjoyed it. They seemed to like your performance too. I know I did.”

Goddamn Yang Jungwon. His words were making your heart beat as fast as it was when you were competing on the ice. 

Your cheeks feel hot, and you fan your face with your hand to try and stop them from getting warmer. Jungwon seems to notice your actions. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” he asks.

“What?”

“The weather.” he says, pulling out his phone. “It’s 32 degrees right now.” 

Thank god Jungwon is dense when it comes to any aspect of romance. You understand why though, because when he was younger, he was fully devoted to the ice. You don’t think he even gave any attention to the people who were chasing after him and yearning for his affection — because it was like his heart belonged to the ice.

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” you say. You think you dodged a bullet there. You and Jungwon arrive at the ramen shop soon after, and Harua is right — the food is absolutely delicious. 

Speaking of Harua, the ramen reminds you of him mentioning that if he came with you and Jungwon, he’d be third-wheeling. 

Somehow you feel… giddy at the thought of that. Not Harua third-wheeling, but the idea of you and Jungwon on a date. 

Wait, was this dinner a date? 

No. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. Jungwon only sees you as a friend. 

But the idea of you two possibly being something more seems to now be engraved in the back of your mind, and while eating ramen in 32 degree weather with Yang Jungwon in the streets of Makuhari, you realise:

You like Jungwon.

TEN. 4Lz (ur, fall)

Jungwon finds that Fantasy on Ice ends faster than he thinks. It was nearly two months of touring — time really does fly when you’re having fun.

He thinks he’s starting to enjoy skating again. He’s found a new appreciation for his craft — and with the knowledge that his skating is able to make so many people happy, he thinks that he should be able to make himself happy with his own skating. 

He returns to the Taereung skating rink with a bright smile, and Irene notices the change in his demeanour the second he walks in the door. 

“Welcome back, Jungwon.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Hi, Irene. Thanks.” he replies, placing his skate bag on the floor before taking his skates out. He takes off his usual training shoes, putting on the skating boots that've been with him every day for the last 3 years.

“How was FAOI?” Irene asks. “Good. It was fun.” Jungwon says, finishing lacing up his skates. 

“That’s good. Are you ready to practise for next season properly now?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah.” he says, skating onto the rink. 

“You remember the choreographies, right?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. He thinks he remembers them, but now that she asks, he’s not too sure if he remembers them completely. 

“We’ll do the short program first.” Irene says, pressing play on her phone as the music plays through the speakers. 

Jungwon glides on the ice elegantly, his movements as fluid and soft as water. He spins and turns on the ice, doing backward crossovers as he prepares for the first jump — a quad lutz. 

He’s usually confident in this jump. He takes off, spinning in the air — but as he’s about to make his landing, he falls. Irene makes a noise just as Jungwon gets up, and he presses his lips together in a thin line. It’s fine. Jungwon thinks.

The next jump is a quad toeloop-triple toeloop combination, and Jungwon thinks he’ll do fine, and he lands the quad well, but he feels the landing on the triple is a little shaky.

Doubt fills his mind. Did he get worse somehow while doing the ice shows? Sure, he didn’t do as many quads when he was in Japan, but he thought he’d be okay. Or maybe he’s just having a bad day. He’s done three jumps. Two of them he wouldn’t consider done well.

Flying camel spin. Jungwon’s spins are always done well, and Irene nods in approval — but every thought in Jungwon’s mind is telling him that he shouldn’t have done that ice show. He slacked off, and now he’s not doing as great as he was before.

Final jump for his short program, a triple axel. He lands it cleanly, but he feels little satisfaction for it. Dread is what Jungwon feels. He shouldn’t have gone. He should’ve listened to the devil on his shoulder telling him to stay — he needs to train. He needs to practise.

Spin combination. Jungwon does them well as usual. Then the step sequence, which as he’s skating, he hears Irene make a small hum in satisfaction. But Jungwon does not feel any satisfaction from his performance at all.

The last element of his program, a sit spin, is completed perfectly. 

Jungwon is surprised he remembers the entire choreography when he’s in his finishing pose. He sighs, skating around the rink with a frown on his face.

“You didn’t have enough height on your quad lutz.” Irene says, and Jungwon nods. “I know.” 

“Train that for a bit.” 

Jungwon listens.

And he falls more than he usually does. 

The more he falls, the more his brain tells him that he should have stayed. He notices you entering the rink, and that lifts his mood slightly — but as he attempts another quad lutz, and falls, he’s just completely tired.

He motions to Irene that he’s going to have a break. He leaves the rink, putting his skate guards on as he heads towards an empty bench, burying his face in his hands.

You immediately notice the dejected look on Jungwon’s face, and you hurry over to him to ask him if he’s okay. 

“What’s wrong, Won?” you ask, sitting down next to him. “Nothing. I’m frustrated.” he replies with a sigh.

“You can talk to me.” 

“I spent too much time having fun. And now I think I forgot the choreo to my free skate, and I can’t land my quad lutz — usually, I’d be way ahead in terms of preparation. And I’m just scared that I won’t do well next season.” he says, his voice shaky, and you frown.

“I’m not blaming you for saying I should’ve gone to the ice shows, by the way. I enjoyed the ice show. But now I feel underprepared.” 

“It’s okay. But Jungwon, Grand Prix is like in… September. It’s July.” you say, in an attempt to reassure him.

“I know. I know. I’m just… worried.” 

“You have plenty, plenty of time. And hey, maybe it’s just a bad skate day. I get those sometimes.” you say in a soft voice, placing your hand on his shoulder, and Jungwon thinks your words make him feel a little better. “Doing not as well on one day doesn’t mean you’re terrible now, Jungwon. You have lots of time, and you’ll only get better. Don’t stress, okay?”

“Okay.” he says, sighing. 

“You’ll do great. I know it.” 

Your words are able to comfort him. Jungwon is thankful for that. But he feels this blooming feeling in his chest that he doesn’t really think he’s ever felt before. The words Harua said a month ago pops back into his mind. You two are definitely going to fall in love.

Love may be a bit of a stretch for now. But Jungwon thinks he certainly does like you. He feels warm and happy around you. He thinks about you a lot. And the possibility of being something more than friends has started to linger in the back of his mind.

“Thank you. You will too.” Jungwon says. You give his hand a tight squeeze as encouragement, telling him ‘fighting!’ — which makes him crack a small smile.

Shit, maybe Harua is right. Jungwon thinks. He heads back onto the rink, deciding that he should try the quad lutz again. Maybe it’s just a bad day. 

And as he lands one that he thinks is the cleanest one he’s ever done, he decides that perhaps taking Harua’s advice to ask Google how to tell if he likes someone isn’t the worst idea. 

ELEVEN. octuple flip

Grand Prix assignments roll out two weeks after you and Jungwon’s return to the Taereung rink. 

You’re assigned to Grand Prix de France and NHK Trophy, and Jungwon’s assigned to Skate Canada and like you, the NHK Trophy. 

You’re glad you’ll at least be able to see him at a Grand Prix competition. You tell him that when he’s at Skate Canada, you’ll be watching him skate from the comfort of your home. He tells you that he’ll be doing the same when you’re at Grand Prix de France.

You and Jungwon get even closer during training for the Grand Prix competitions. Like you had said, that day when he fell on the quad lutz multiple times was just a bad day. You’ve seen him do both his short program and free program cleanly multiple times now. 

Jungwon thinks he must’ve been having fun during training, because Skate Canada rolls around faster than he thinks. But of course with you around at training, it’ll always be fun. 

He did not end up asking Google for relationship advice. He instead asked Wonyoung, who had asked him to text her about you and just simply describe you and how you made him feel. He had originally texted  ‘nice to me.’, but then Wonyoung told him that he had to elaborate.

Needless to say, after his long paragraph about you that he sent to Wonyoung (she skimmed over it, the first two lines of the text were all she needed to know), she had established that Jungwon liked you. 

And with that thought in his mind, Jungwon does realise he has started to act differently around you more recently. He’s more attentive to you, he’s always by your side when you’re around, and he finds himself sometimes wanting to just hold your hand.

As you send him off to the airport, a bright smile on your lips and a cat plushie in your hand that you give to him, a pink blush tints his cheeks, even if he doesn’t know it. And if he did, he’d blame it on how hot the coffee in his hand is. 

Unbeknownst to Jungwon, your cheeks are heating up too when you see the look on his face after you give him the stuffed animal. 

There’s just something about Jungwon that makes your heart do flips. Triple flips, quadruple flips — even quintuple flips.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You think it just did 8 rotations. Not humanly possible.

But, your heart just does an octuple flip. 

You text him every day too, when he’s in Canada. He responds almost immediately (if he’s awake, because of the damned time zones), and he sometimes even sends you pictures of himself on the ice too. There’s one where he’s holding up the cat plushie you gave him, a smile on his lips. You find that there are butterflies in your stomach after you see the message.

Time zones are horrible, but you set an alarm so you can remember to open up your laptop and watch him skate. 

You send him a goodluck message, that he doesn’t read immediately because he must have his phone in his bag, since he’s about to skate soon. 

And when the commentator announces Jungwon’s name, you see him skate out onto the rink. You murmur You got this! but obviously, you know he can’t hear you.

“Now, obviously Yang Jungwon is one of the most anticipated skaters at this Grand Prix competition. He delivered a sublime skate at Worlds last season, securing him the title as world champion.” you hear the commentator say, as Jungwon skates around the rink before getting into his starting position. “Yang Jungwon with the music: A Walk In The Skies.” 

The music starts, and Jungwon moves across the ice in a way you’re most familiar with now. You’ve seen him do this program hundreds, maybe thousands of times — but at a competition, Jungwon’s got his A-game on. His movements are delicate, elegant and beautiful. 

“First comes the quad lutz.” the commentator says, and you watch your screen intently as Jungwon takes off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing cleanly. “Yes!” you say, pumping your fist. 

“Absolutely stunning.” 

You agree with the commentator wholeheartedly.

“The quad toe-triple toe.” Jungwon lands the quad toe the second the commentator says that, and takes off into the triple toe — another clean jump. 

You smile. He’s doing great, you think, as he does a flying camel spin. He looks happy as he skates as well. He seems to be enjoying the sport more and more each day.

Jungwon skates his entire program cleanly, with all green boxes on the left hand corner of your screen. His technical score is the highest among all the skaters, and he was the last to skate — you think that he’ll definitely place first in the short program.

“Yang Jungwon at his best, everyone.” the commentator says. “Yang did absolutely wonderful tonight, and I’m sure it will reflect on the scores.”

He bows, a genuine smile on his lips — one that he hasn’t shown in a long time at competitions as the cat plushies fall from the bleachers and onto the ice. He picks up as many as he can before leaving the rink while the flower kids pick up the rest, as the camera pans to him giving Irene a fist bump.

You think he’ll break 100. There’s no way he won’t. 

As he sits in the Kiss and Cry nervously waiting for his scores, you sit at home on your couch, just as nervous as he is. The camera faces towards him, and Jungwon smiles at it, holding up one of the cat plushies he had received and mouthing a thank you. 

“The scores, please.” 

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon of South Korea is 111.45, his season’s best and currently puts him in first place.” 

The crowd erupts into cheers, and you push your laptop off your lap and onto the couch, jumping up in excitement. 

You watch as Jungwon pumps his fist up into the air before hugging Irene with pure joy on his face. 

Jungwon doesn’t think he’s been this happy to place first in a long, long time. He had fun skating today. He also skated well today. And he’s currently in first. 

Having fun and winning can coexist. Jungwon finds that out today as he bows once more before leaving the Kiss and Cry.

Jungwon thinks that he’s just a few steps away from loving skating again. 

TWELVE. you, me (?) and the ice

Jungwon wins the men’s category of Skate Canada.

You welcome him back to Korea with a huge hug at the airport, slightly startling him but he hugs you back nevertheless. “You did so, so good!” you say, and Jungwon smiles.

“Thank you.” he says. “I haven’t felt this happy to win gold in so long.”

“You know I cried watching your free skate?” you say, and Jungwon looks at you, eyes widened. “Really?” he asks, as you lead him to your car. 

“I was really proud. And happy. Because you looked like you liked skating again.” you say. “I did like skating there. I haven’t enjoyed skating competitively for so long… and I feel like I just did better when I enjoyed it.” he hums.

“Jungwon, you broke a world record, and you had fun while doing it.” you say.

“I did.” he replies. “If you had told that to me at the beginning of the year, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

You load his luggage into the trunk of your car, motioning for him to get into the front seat. He does, and when you slide into the driver’s seat, he surprises you with a cute stuffed toy of an adorable polar bear — which are the plushies that your fans throw onto the ice after you skate.

“I saw this in a store window when I was heading back to the hotel, and it reminded me of you,” he says, handing it to you. “It’s so cute, Jungwon! Thank you.” you say, taking the toy in your hands. “Look, I even got it skates.” he says, pointing at the skates attached to the polar bear toy’s feet, making you chuckle. 

“That’s so cool.” you say, setting it aside so you can drive. “I’m putting this on my nightstand.” 

You do actually want to put it on your nightstand, but you decide to bring it with you to France. You pack it in your backpack the night before you leave. “You’re my good luck charm now,” you tell the stuffed toy.

And this time it’s Jungwon’s turn to send you off. 

Like what you did when Jungwon was in Canada, he texts you as much as he can, updating you on the little things that go on at the rink, such as telling you about how Jiwon bought a hot dog, or Jongseob doing backflips on the ice nonstop.

He keeps his promise of watching you skate. He watches your short program on his bed, his dog Maeumi curling up beside him as he watches in anticipation. You skated clean in the short program, and as if Jungwon was actually in the arena right now, he erupts into applause. 

“Look, Maeumi. (Name) did well.” he says, showing his dog the screen that showed the rankings. Maeumi only blinks at the screen. 

When the time to watch your free skate rolls around, Jungwon drops everything to watch it. He ends his call with Wonyoung, when they’re talking about the family gathering next month that Jungwon doesn’t think that he’ll be able to make it to. “Sorry, Wonyo — something important just came up, I’ll call you back later.” he tells her, ending the call swiftly.

He sees you in the last group of skaters warming up — you’re going to skate last, because you placed first during the short program. He watches as you land a triple loop cleanly, and unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips.

He watches the other skaters skate before you, and they all do pretty well. There’s a couple of falls, and Jungwon winces when one of the skaters hits the ice particularly hard. 

And when your name is announced, his eyes are immediately drawn to the screen, diverting his attention from Maeumi, who now also seems to be drawn to the laptop.

“Last to skate is (Name), representing South Korea. Now, (Name) had a wonderful season last year — placing 1st at the Grand Prix finals, and 2nd at the World Championships. Placed first in the short program, she’s surely aiming for the top of the podium here today.” the commentator says. 

Jungwon chews on the inside of his cheek nervously as your music starts. 

Every time you skate, Jungwon is in awe, and today is certainly no exception. You glide on the ice as smoothly as a flowing river, every movement of yours from your arm all the way to your fingertips controlled delicately. 

Quad flip, Jungwon thinks at the same time the commentator says that out loud. You land it beautifully, and Jungwon nods his head, murmuring ‘nice’. Maeumi looks at Jungwon’s laptop screen, just as transfixed on your skating as his owner is. 

Being able to watch your skating is a gift in itself, Jungwon thinks. Your performances are absolutely mesmerising, and Jungwon knows he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. You are a master at combining technique with artistry – without a doubt, it is clear to everybody that you were born to skate. As you continue with your program, Jungwon’s eyes follow your figure on the screen.

He has watched you do this program a million times. Every single time, he gets chills – every single time, you do it better than the last time. Everything is executed to perfection, and there is one thing Jungwon notices clearly as you skate. It is your passion for it. 

You skate as if it'll be your last skate ever. You give your all, expressing every single emotion you feel and sharing it with the audience. You aren’t showing off your skills – you are telling a story. A tale of you and the ice.

You once mentioned to him that you had always wanted to fly. You might not have wings, but you have your skates. Aim higher. Soar higher. Despite how difficult figure skating is, and the injury that almost took you out of the sport — never once, have you thought to quit. Never once have you wanted to give up on your dream, and never once have you ever imagined a world without you skating.

Jungwon wants to skate with as much passion and love as you have for the sport. He has much to learn from you, and it is only when your music stops that he realises that a single tear drops from his eye. 

You have single handedly changed Jungwon’s entire perspective of skating. You managed to help him fall back in love with the sport – and he knows he’s not fully there yet, but he’s close to it, and your encouragement played a huge part in it. He knows he would be miserable on the ice if you hadn’t. 

And when your scores are announced, with everyone in the arena and everyone watching online hearing how you had broken a new world record, Jungwon jumps up from his bed with joy, a huge grin plastered on his lips. 

Nobody deserves that gold medal more than you do. 

THIRTEEN. thin ice

With each skate and each reminder that he should use the ice to release all his pressures and burdens, Jungwon enjoys skating more and more now. 

Irene notices how Jungwon finds skating more exciting. Being subjected to only frowns and sighs of disappointment only for the past few years, she thinks it’s certainly a nice change – and deep inside, she hopes that Jungwon will change his mind about retirement. 

He has been seriously considering it now. With him now being able to enjoy skating competitions, Jungwon finds himself wanting to compete next season, but still, a little part of him still wonders if he should let his first love go. 

He thinks he’ll decide after the Olympics (that is if he makes the team, of course.) Jungwon knows he’ll have to put out a really good skate at Nationals in January. Despite that little devil telling him that if he doesn’t train morning, noon and night, he’ll lose, Jungwon decides to ignore it. He finds that he skates better when he’s having fun anyways. 

NHK Trophy rolls around soon enough, and it’s both yours and Jungwon’s last Grand Prix assignment before the Final. You two are finally travelling together for the first time since the ice show, and you don’t forget to buy a cat plushie to hand to him after his free skate (you know he has plenty of them, but one more couldn’t hurt.)

Jungwon does the same, buying a polar bear plushie for you that he stuffs into his suitcase. 

The competition goes well for both of you, with both of you winning silver medals and gaining a spot in the Grand Prix Final.

You both fall once in the free skate, with the winners of the competition skating cleanly for both programs. The Jungwon a couple months ago would be terribly upset about it – but now, Jungwon is happy about silver. He podiumed whilst skating happily. Something that he didn’t think he’d be able to do again. 

When Jungwon hands you the polar bear plushie after your free skate, he doesn’t realise that a camera goes off the second you take hold of it in your hands. And when you hand him the cat plushie after his free skate, another camera goes off as well – you both don’t find out until somehow Dispatch releases an article about it. 

First of all, Jungwon wonders why you two are on Dispatch anyways. You two aren’t idols, and you doubt that the public would really care about either of your romantic lives, but Jungwon finds that he is very wrong after reading some of the comments from netizens. Second of all, he wonders why he didn’t notice the camera flash when both incidents happened. Third of all, he examines his face closely – and he thinks that the smile he’s giving you is one of the brightest ones of his that’s been seen on camera.

Harua texts him a ‘invite me to the wedding’ with a link to the article and too many emojis that it gives Jungwon an eyesore. Jungwon replies with a no and a middle finger emoji. Harua knows well enough that you and Jungwon aren’t together.

Yuzuru texts him ‘Are you two finally together? Congratulations!’ with perfect capitalisation and a link to the article. Jungwon replies with another no, but this time with a smiley face instead of the middle finger. Yuzuru texts him a thumbs up. His follow up message reads I’m sure it’ll happen soon though, and Jungwon just sends back a ‘hahahahaha’. 

And you’re subjected to merciless teasing from Riki, who spams the article link in your chat. You honestly think it’s much worse than the comments from some of the netizens you read. But honestly, what the netizens say isn't even that bad. Except for the comments from the ones who want Jungwon to be theirs. Those ones you just laugh at, because honestly, they’re quite hilarious. You’ve never read such creative insults directed at you. 

But the articles make Jungwon think. 

About the possibility of being in a relationship with you. He’s established that he thinks he likes you (or at least his feelings for you do fit what Wonyoung and Google have said about what liking someone is like), but Jungwon has never thought about… dating. 

Quite frankly, Jungwon thinks that he’d be scared to tell you about his feelings – because he knows that once you confess, that relationship would be changed forever. You can’t go back to just friends when the other knows that you want to be more than that. And what happens if the relationship doesn’t work out? Do you just act like the whole thing never happened? Or do you just cut the other person off completely? 

The latter option is absolutely not possible considering that you and Jungwon are training mates too. 

This is complicated. And thinking about it makes Jungwon’s head hurt. 

But then he looks at the cat plushie on his bed that you had given to him after he finished skating his free program. The joy that fills his heart is immense, and he can’t stop the lovestruck grin from spreading across his lips. 

Is this what the movies and books described as being struck by Cupid’s arrow? Because if so, Jungwon thinks that Cupid shot an arrow straight through his heart, with your name engraved on the tip of it. 

Jungwon can’t stop thinking about you. His day is instantly made the second he sees you walk through the doors of the Taereung ice rink, and he looks at you as if you've got the whole universe in your hands. Every single move you make, every single smile you send his way makes that blooming feeling in Jungwon’s chest get warmer, warmer, and warmer. 

Jungwon likes you. He thinks he really, really likes you. 

And coming to that conclusion doesn’t make him as afraid as he thought he'd be. He’s calm, and he thinks his conclusion just seems right. As if the final piece of the puzzle is put into place, Jungwon’s feelings for you are finally sorted out. 

Jungwon doesn’t need Harua, Wonyoung or Google to tell him that he likes you. 

He just knows it. 

Confessing is a whole other story, but Jungwon thinks that when the right time comes, he’ll do it. He doesn’t know much about love, with his entire life practically being devoted to the ice – but he knows that when it feels right, it must be the right time. 

So, Jungwon comes to two conclusions that night. 

One: he really likes you, and he doesn’t need anyone else to confirm it for him.

Two: he can’t believe that a Dispatch article made him realise that he really liked you. 

FOURTEEN. public skating session 

You ask Jungwon if you’d like to skate at another public rink after the Grand Prix Final is over.

He immediately says yes.

He doesn’t take you up on the offer to wear rental skates though, so both of you lace up your skates on the bench, Jungwon putting your bags into a cubbyhole. 

“Let’s go, Wonie!” you say, and he finds his heart fluttering at the nickname. He follows you onto the rink like the first time, and you two skate side by side, at a way slower pace than usual to be mindful of the other skaters at the rink.

“How does it feel to be the 2026 Grand Prix Final champion?” you ask him, and he smiles at you. “Hmm. I don’t know,” Jungwon replies. “I should be asking you that.”

You and Jungwon both winning in your respective categories were amazing for the media. Yang Jungwon and (Name), figure skaters rumoured to be dating win Men’s Grand Prix Final and Women’s Grand Prix Final was the headline. But at least Dispatch can add more to their article, and you and Jungwon get to go home with shiny gold medals. 

“Feels pretty good. Two years in a row,” you say, and he pats you on the back. “You deserved it,” Jungwon says. “Have I ever told you how in awe I am whenever I watch you skate?” 

“Thank you,” you say, chuckling as your cheeks turn hot at the compliment. “Your skating is amazing as well — that step sequence in World Dreams? Gave me actual chills. I saw a tear drop from a woman’s eye when I was seated in the crowd.”

“Really?” Jungwon asks, and you nod. “She was bawling by the end of it, I think.” you say, and Jungwon softly smiles. “I’m glad my skating made her feel something… hopefully all good things though.” 

“Most definitely good things. She threw 5 cat plushies onto the ice. I think she’s a hardcore fan.” you reply. “She might’ve dethroned my spot as your number one fan.” 

“Hey,” Jungwon says, pouting. “You texted me when I was at Skate Canada saying that you’d always be my number one fan.” 

“Yeah, but she was like a diehard fan,” you say. “Don’t worry though, I’ll throw out 15 cat plushies when you skate during Nationals. I’m taking my spot back.” 

“I’ll throw out more than 15 polar bear plushies when you skate at Nationals. I’ll throw out 16.” 

“Are you challenging me?” 

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, a smile never leaving his lips. 

“We can just be each other’s number one fan.” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Deal. So can I get your autograph?” he jokes. 

“Sure thing,” you say, playing along. You motion for him to hold his palm out, and you trace your autograph on his hand. “There you go!” you say, tracing a smiley face and a heart as well. 

“I’ll treasure this forever,” he quips. 

“You better.” 

You two fall into a comfortable silence as you both skate laps around the rink, observing the other people there. Like last time, there are couples on dates, there are little kids learning to skate, and there’s people who actually figure skate, doing spins in the centre of the rink. 

“Right, I was going to say. You seem way, way more happier on the ice than you were before,” you tell Jungwon, who nods. “Yeah. I think I actually like skating again. I mean… I can’t exactly say love, because you know… sometimes I just revert back to the way I used to think whenever I fail at something.” he replies. “But competitions are a lot more fun. The ice doesn’t drain me of all my energy anymore, and winning medals sort of brings me fulfilment again.”

“That’s amazing, Won.” you say. 

Now that you think about it. Jungwon wanted to retire because he didn’t love skating anymore. But now that Jungwon enjoys it again, you’re left wondering if he’ll still continue competitive skating.

It’s as if Jungwon’s able to read your mind. “I’m not sure if I’ll retire or not. On one hand, skating is fun now… and I’d like to continue at least maybe for a little longer, but I’m also wondering if I should just… let go. Explore things outside of skating, even though I know I’ll probably come back to the ice every time.”

You let his words sink in for a moment. “I think… you don’t have to decide your future plans this early. You could decide at the Olympics, after you skate. Or you could even go to Worlds after the Olympics and decide then.”

“Yeah. I could do that.” Jungwon breathes out. “I’m just… indecisive and unsure of everything right now.”

“No, I get it,” you nod. “You have time, Jungwon. Don’t rush things.” you tell him. 

Jungwon agrees with you. Thinking about too much and thinking too far ahead were two of the many reasons why he fell out of love with figure skating. Now that he’s slowly started to enjoy it again, he knows he has to rid himself of his bad habits. 

“Okay. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to retire. If I was, I would’ve already done it by now.” he says, smiling. “And if I don’t retire this season, I’ll probably just retire in 2030. I can still fulfil my dream of leaving at the biggest stage.” 

“I feel like I’d do that as well, if I’m not gonna lie.” you say, and Jungwon tilts his head. “So are we retiring together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… if you don’t retire during this Olympics, then probably. But do what feels right, Won. Don’t do it because you feel pressure from others to keep going. If you love the sport, you’ll always find a way back to it, like something like professional skating, or coaching, or doing commentary. If you think it’s time, then it’s time.” 

Jungwon can always count on you for giving him great advice. 

“You’re right.” he says. “Anyways… enough about that.” he spots a penguin skating aid in the corner, and he skates up to grab a hold of it. He pushes it as he skates, and you can’t help but find the mere action adorable. 

You pull out your phone to record him, and you chuckle as you see him skate faster towards you. “Cute,” you say, and Jungwon’s cheeks flush pink. If you ask, he’ll blame it on the rink being cold. 

“You use it,” he says, pushing the skating aid towards you. You gladly take it, grabbing ahold of the handles, pushing it as you skate with Jungwon by your side. 

Talking to Jungwon is easy. He tells you about how he stores his medals in ziplock bags when he needs to take them to interviews, to which you propose a better idea: using socks (a trick you learned from none other than Yuzuru Hanyu himself.) He also tells you about his dog, Maeumi, who apparently had watched your Grand Prix de France free skate with him – Jungwon says that Maeumi was absolutely mesmerised by your performance, and it’s interesting how every single thing Jungwon says is able to bring a smile to your face. 

You tell him that you’d like to meet Maeumi, and he tells you that you’re welcome over anytime. Your heart flutters at the invitation that you accept warmly. “In fact, you could come over after we leave.” 

“Really?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “It’s not like we’ll be spending more than an hour here anyways. We already spend most of our days at another rink – we’d get way too bored if we spend hours here like everyone else.” 

Jungwon is right. After 20 minutes of more skating and just talking to each other about your lives (as if you didn’t learn nearly absolutely everything about him during the off-season), you and Jungwon head over to his apartment, where you meet Maeumi. 

And as you play with Maeumi, gushing over how cute he is, you notice the fond smile on Jungwon’s lips as he watches you two from the couch. 

You don’t know why, but that look on Jungwon’s face makes you think that perhaps you two could be something more than friends. 

FIFTEEN. last nationals skate (?)

Jangmi calls Jungwon the day before the short program for Nationals. 

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she tells him. “It’s your career, not mine.”

Jungwon sighs. “It’s fine. I don’t think I know what I want to do with my career either. Retiring is an option, and competing… also is another option now.” 

Jangmi somehow sounds happier at the sound of Jungwon’s words. “That's… good,” she says, trying to not make it obvious that continuing to skate is still an option for Jungwon. “What changed your mind?”

“I started liking it again.” he says, gazing at the sheet of ice in the Uijeongbu ice rink. The ice finally feels like home again, and instead of bringing him dread, Jungwon feels at ease at the rink now. The pressure is no longer something that drags him under – it is now something he uses to allow himself to skate better. 

Now when he skates, he feels his passion for it again. “Even the brightest of flames burn out,” you had said. His flame dimmed, nearly being put out entirely – but he’s more than happy to have been able to ignite it again. 

And as his music starts playing for the short program, Jungwon realises something as he glides across the ice elegantly. 

If he retires, this will be his last ever Nationals. 

This crowd, this rink, this atmosphere – it’ll be the last time he ever gets to experience this. He stays completely focused on his program, but this thought lingers at the back of his mind when he lands the quad lutz. 

The audience cheers, and Jungwon’s eyes catch sight of the banners that fans have made for him in the crowd, with encouraging words that bring a smile to Jungwon’s face. 

When he finishes his short program, Jungwon pumps his fist into the air, more than satisfied with his performance. He skates around the rink as the audience throws stuffed animals onto the ice, picking some up as he thanks the crowd. 

He bows before leaving the rink, Irene pulling him into a hug after he puts his skate guards on. “You did amazing.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Thank you,” he replies, as he makes his way to the Kiss and Cry.

As he waits patiently for his scores, he can’t stop thinking about how if he does decide to retire at the end of this season, that was his last ever short program at Nationals. He didn’t think this far ahead when he told Irene that he wanted to hang up his skates at the beginning of the off season, and now that he realises that he may be nearing the end of his career, Jungwon suddenly starts feeling a wave of sadness. 

He was nothing but sure about his decision when he told Irene that he’d be retiring. But now, sitting in the Kiss and Cry at quite possibly one of his last competitions ever, Jungwon thinks he might just want to hold on for a little longer. 

“The scores, please.” the announcer says, ending Jungwon’s train of thought. 

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon is 112.36, which currently puts him in first place.” 

The crowd erupts into cheers at his score, and Jungwon smiles in satisfaction while Irene claps. “Good job,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her. He stands up, bowing once again before leaving the Kiss and Cry, and everything just slowly starts sinking in. 

If this was his last short program ever at Nationals, at least he did well. 

But Jungwon doesn’t want this to be his last ever Nationals. The feeling of wanting nothing more than to just leave the ice has completely disappeared in a matter of months, and Jungwon now just wants to stay. 

Maybe it isn’t time to hang up his skates. 

After finding his passion for skating again, Jungwon just wants to feel the thrill of competition. He dreaded competitions months ago, but now his feelings towards the ice have completely changed. Winning medals can finally bring him satisfaction again – he’s being acknowledged for being good at something that he loves. 

He can now look at the cameras while standing atop that podium with a genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t feel like he’s a robot anymore, with  every move he makes when he skates programmed into his brain – he feels like he’s a writer, or a poet, telling his story on the ice. 

He changes out of his costume, putting on a hoodie and some sweatpants before leaving the locker room. He checks the time, realising that there’s only an hour until the women’s free skate – he promised you that he’d be in the crowd.

With 16 polar bear stuffed animals that he currently does not have. 

He rushes to the nearest toy shop, asking the staff if they have polar bear plushies still in stock, and luckily, they do. The shop assistant helping him looks slightly concerned when he asks for 16, but still brings them all out in a basket. “Is this for (Name)?” she asks, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows, confused as to how she would know that. 

“Yeah… how’d you know?” 

“Bunch of people came in asking for polar bear stuffed toys to throw onto the ice for her.” she says, scanning all the polar bears. “Oh. That’s nice of them.” Jungwon replies. 

“You bought the most.” the shop assistant says, putting all of them into a large shopping bag for Jungwon, noticing how he only has a backpack that most certainly won’t fit 16 polar bear toys. 

“Oh, cool.” he says, swiping his card on the reader. The transaction goes through, and the shop assistant smiles at him before handing him his receipt. “Good luck to both you and (Name) on your free skates,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her before leaving the store. 

He makes it back to the Uijeongbu ice rink just in time, with Jongseob saving him a seat. “That’s a shit ton of polar bears you’ve got there,” Jongseob says, holding a plushie of Artemis from the Sailor Moon series to throw on the ice after Jiwon skates. 

“Yeah.” Jungwon replies, putting the shopping bag onto the ground. 

“You’re a dedicated boyf– fan!” 

“Enough.” 

There’s five groups of skaters, and you’re the last to skate. Jungwon cheers for each and every skater, but his cheers will definitely be the loudest for you. Jongseob yells as his life depends on it when Jiwon skates onto the ice. 

Soon enough, it’s your turn to skate. You look at the crowd, spotting Jungwon and Jongseob sitting together and you flash Jungwon a smile, whilst a shit-eating grin spreads across Jongseob’s lips. “Good luck,” he mouths to you, and you nod as a way of saying thank you. 

Your program goes well, for the most part – aside from falling on a quad toe loop and stepping out on a triple lutz. Jungwon knows that you’ve done enough to secure a podium spot – and a spot on the Olympic team, and it seems as if you know that too, tears streaming down your face the minute you finish your program. 

You’re going to the Olympics. You’ve finally achieved your lifelong dream.

Cheers and applause resound throughout the rink, with tons of polar bear stuffed toys being thrown out onto the ice by fans, and Jungwon is one of them. You see him throw out polar bear after polar bear from the shopping bag he’s holding, and a sweet smile spreads across Jungwon’s lips as he sees your surprised face.

“16?” you mouth at him, and Jungwon nods. You can’t help but clap your hands over your mouth to hide your laughter, and as the announcer calls your name again, you skate into the middle of the rink, bowing once again before leaving.

Eventually, it is you, Jiwon and another skater named Kim Chaeyeon who get named to the Olympic team. 

Like how Jungwon bought 16 plushies for you during your free skate, you buy 17. It’s a funny coincidence how you both end up going to the same toy shop, and the shop assistant gives you a smile when you enter. “Could I get… 17 cat plushies?”

“This is for Yang Jungwon, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“He said the same thing when he came in yesterday to get 16 polar bear plushies for you,” she says, taking the toys and putting them into a basket. You have a nice conversation with her before you leave the shop with a large bag holding exactly 17 cat plushies. 

You notice multiple things when you’re in the audience. Jiwon has a stuffed animal of a tiger in her lap that she throws out onto the ice when Jongseob skates. She also gives you a look as if to tell you not to tease her about it. You also see tons of people holding cat plushies, ready to throw onto the ice after Jungwon skates, and you’re one of those people too. 

You also notice the passion Jungwon now has for skating. He commands the ice, moving fluidly across the rink – Jungwon is a phenomenal skater. Goosebumps rise up on your skin, and you don’t think any other skater has been able to convey emotions to the audience this effectively. 

Like you, Jungwon qualifies for a spot on the Olympic team. 

He gazes at you as you throw cat plushies onto the ice, and a fond smile spreads across his lips. “17?” he mouths at you, and you nod. 

Jungwon wonders if your heart’s beating as fast as his. 

Little does he know, it is. 

SIXTEEN. born to skate

Just being able to go to the Olympics is truly sensational.

You weren’t even able to fully process it until you saw a staff member walk up to you and hand you your Olympic security pass. Your name’s on it, along with the 2026 Milano Cortina logo on the right – and under your name, it says athlete. 

You can’t believe a security pass might actually make you burst into tears. 

Jungwon hangs his security pass over his neck, and then turns to look at you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “It’s just kind of crazy. I’m going to compete at the Olympics – Wonie, oh my god. I’m an Olympian.” 

“You are,” he says. He takes your hand, locking his fingers with yours and gives your hand a tight squeeze. The mere action makes your face feel hot, your heart beating in your chest incredibly fast. “You’ll do great, don’t worry.” 

“You will too,” you say, beaming at him. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Jungwon doesn’t want to let go either. 

He only let go when Jongseob and Jiwon were walking towards you two. 

That aside, time seems to go by faster for some reason. You arrived in Italy 2 days before the men’s short program event, and today’s already the day. Jungwon changes into his costume, and zips on the South Korea team jacket before he leaves the changing room. 

“You ready?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I'm a little nervous, but it’ll go away when I start skating.” he replies, and you smile. “You’ve got this, Won.” you say, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Before he starts skating, Jungwon looks into the crowd to spot where you’re seated. You give him a thumbs up, and he smiles softly before getting into his starting position. 

Jungwon has missed the Olympic ice. 

In the crowd, you notice how Jungwon’s skating even better than he did at Nationals. He skates with  pure emotion – as if this skate could very well be his last. 

Then the realisation hits you like a truck. 

If Jungwon did decide to retire, sticking with his original plans – this would be his last competitive short program, ever. And now every move he makes on the ice seems to have a whole new meaning for you. 

He skates like he’s got everything on the line. Time and time again, Jungwon tells the audience that he was born to skate – but this performance proves it. Every jump, every spin, every transition, every choreo sequence and every step sequence is executed to absolute perfection. 

Yang Jungwon is a master of his craft. Nobody can doubt that. 

Nobody will doubt that after this performance.

Jungwon has sacrificed hours, days, months and years to produce a performance like this. He has never felt such fulfilment, such satisfaction after skating – the only word he can use to describe how he feels after his skate is that he is proud. 

He is proud that he was able to put out a performance like that. He is proud that he’ll be recognised for an impeccable short program. But most importantly, he is proud that he delivered a program of such quality whilst enjoying every moment he had on that Olympic ice. 

And when the scores are announced, saying that he is currently in first, Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier. Irene hugs him tightly, and Jungwon’s practically shaking in disbelief. 

Nobody beats his short program score for the night. Jungwon knows the medal is just within his reach. 

Feeling victory finally feels good, and Jungwon hasn’t even won yet. 

When you rush up to him immediately after he exits his changing room, you wrap him in a huge hug, and at first, he’s startled by your action. But he immediately hugs you back, his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink that he knows he’ll get teased about if Harua sees it. 

“Won, that was incredible!” you could gush over his performance for hours and hours on end. “You were absolutely mesmerising. The image you were painting inside my head – all of our heads! It was so vivid. I felt like I could feel what you felt as you were skating. Everyone was blown away. You’re absolutely sensational.”

Jungwon thinks of you in an incredibly high regard. So hearing these words from you makes his eyes well up slightly with tears, and you immediately notice. 

“Don’t cry!” you say, wrapping him in another hug. “I just needed you to know how incredible you are.” 

Jungwon needs you to know how incredible you are as well.

He feels nothing but warmth as he’s in your embrace, and truly, perhaps this is what Jungwon thinks he might call love. Because you care for him in a way that nobody else has. You didn’t know him well at the time, but still offered to try and get him to enjoy skating again. You push him to be a better skater, and a better person – and Jungwon didn’t think he knew what love was.

But now he thinks he does.

Quite simply, love is you. 

And he cares for you more than he cares about anyone else, even if he thinks that he is terrible at showing it. He isn’t the best when it comes to love, or relationships – but he’s learning. He’s learning all because of you. 

In less than one year, you have changed Jungwon’s life entirely.

You’ve taught him how to have fun skating again. You’ve taught him to allow himself to loosen up, and not let pressure define him. You’ve also taught him what it’s like to be loved. And how to love. 

Jungwon doesn’t know if this is a stretch, but he feels like you might’ve quite literally saved him. Jungwon is forever grateful for the fact that you walked into his life the moment he needed someone like you. 

And Jungwon is more than sure that he indeed does love you. 

Jungwon feels relief when he finally admits it to himself. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knew that he loved you all this time – he just didn’t exactly confront himself about his feelings. 

With you by his side, Jungwon feels like an Olympic gold medalist already. 

SEVENTEEN. olympic ice

The free skate rolls around faster than Jungwon thought.

But he thinks that he’s prepared. He’ll give it his all tonight. He doesn’t even think about the upcoming decision he has to make about his career – he personally believes that the idea that he could possibly win Olympic gold feels a little more important than that.

He knows you’re in the crowd, watching him. It gives him an extra boost of confidence. Jungwon doesn’t realise this until now, but he seems to skate better when you’re in the audience. Perhaps you’re his lucky charm. 

He’s last to skate, being first in the short program. Jungwon’s fully focused during the couple minutes of warm up, jumping a triple axel that he manages to land well, and a quad toe that he finds is a little shaky on the landing, but he’ll try and land it cleanly in the actual program.

Over the speaker, it’s announced that the warmup time is over. Jungwon and some of the other skaters leave the ice, and the first person skating in the group starts his program. 

Whilst the other skater performs, Jungwon runs through his entire program in his head. He can’t let the pressure get to him – he knows he’ll do worse. He reminds himself to have fun. He’ll be skating on Olympic ice for possibly the last time ever, so he knows that he’ll have to make this count. 

Your words ring in his head as he waits for the skaters before him to finish performing their programs. Skating is something that is meant to be enjoyed with the audience. 

Jungwon decides that he will enjoy every minute and every second of it. 

Irene gives him a thumbs up before he skates out to the centre of the rink. “You’ve got this, Jungwon. Stay focused, stay calm.” she tells him, and Jungwon nods. 

“You go kill it out there.” she says, smiling at him.

Jungwon skates off, and Irene just has the proudest look on her face. She knows that this could very well be the last competitive skate of Jungwon’s life. No matter the result, she would be proud – Yang Jungwon has accomplished so much in his career at the age of 22. 

“Last to skate: Yang Jungwon, of South Korea!” 

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, Jungwon raising his arms above his head. He lets them fall back down by his sides, doing a couple twizzles around the rink before skating into the centre.

He gets into his starting position, and the music starts. 

He’s done this program tons and tons of times before. He knows exactly what to do at the exact second, twirling across the ice gracefully. First, is the quad lutz. 

You hold your breath in anticipation as he sets up the jump, taking off – and he lands it. 

With one jump, Jungwon makes the crowd go absolutely crazy. Their shouts die down soon after, allowing Jungwon to listen to the music so he knows when and what he needs to do next. 

He successfully lands more jumps, including a quad salchow-quad toe loop combo that he’s able to land flawlessly. Everything is going well, Jungwon thinks. 

As he skates beautiful transitions on the ice, you catch his eye. You’re gazing right at him with the softest look on your face, and Jungwon thinks his heart might melt. You nod at him, as a way to tell him that he’s doing great.

Jungwon doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, but in the middle of his Olympic free skate, he feels more compelled to confess his feelings for you than ever. 

He knows that he just has to tell you. 

When he realised he liked you, he decided that he had to wait for the right time to confess. He didn’t exactly know when the right time would be, or if he would ever even find the right time. He also certainly didn’t expect it to be right in the middle of his free skate.

But everything is crystal clear. Jungwon knows it’s the right time, and he can’t exactly shout out that he loves you when he’s currently preparing to jump a triple axel, but he knows the second he’s able to, he will. 

It’s as if time slows, and you’re the only one in the audience. Jungwon only sees you. You two are just in your little bubble – just you, him, and the ice. 

Jungwon skates with so much power, and so much emotion, trying to express every word he wants to say to you, but with his skating. The crowd’s cheers get louder every time Jungwon lands a jump, and it only gives Jungwon motivation to keep getting better and better. 

Olympic gold is so close. If he just reached up and grabbed it, the shining gold plaque would be right in his hands – and Jungwon knows that he cannot let that slip away between his fingers. His whole life has led up to this moment. Falling in love with the ice, then finding that he had let himself hate it, and then trying to ignite that love and passion he had for skating once more. All of this, allowed for him to skate the cleanest program he’s ever skated at the world’s biggest stage for figure skating. 

The music ends, and the crowd erupts with cheers. Jungwon stands there, shocked and still in his ending position. He feels like he can’t move. 

He can’t believe it. 

Did he just win Olympic gold? 

Countless cat plushies fall onto the ice around him as Jungwon just bursts into tears. Irene’s crying as well, tears of joy streaming down on her face as she claps. Jungwon tries to spot you in the crowd, and when he does, he sees you jumping up and down excitedly with Jiwon, and you just look so incredibly happy for him. 

After the toughest years of his career, fighting to try and keep going in a sport he loved no longer, Jungwon is finally able to love figure skating again, and he might have just won Olympic gold in the process. 

He’s still in shock when he leaves the rink, and Irene pulls him into the tightest hug she’s ever given him, as Jungwon cries into her shoulder. “You did it.” she says.

“I did it.” he says – he can’t even believe the words he just said. He heads to the Kiss and Cry with Irene, pulling out tissues from his tissue box nonstop to wipe his tears away. 

Jungwon waits in the Kiss and Cry for his scores – he knows that he’s won. He just needs the scores to confirm it. 

And sure enough, mere minutes later, Yang Jungwon is announced as the 2026 men’s Olympic figure skating champion.

Jungwon can’t stop crying. Tears just keep falling down his cheeks as he bows to everyone. He can’t even use the word joy to describe what he’s feeling. He never thought he could feel this happy after winning a competition. 

If you told Jungwon months ago that he’d be crying tears of joy after winning a competition, he most certainly wouldn’t have believed you. 

The venue ceremony is soon. So soon to the point where Jungwon isn’t even able to come up to you and tell you how he feels. He’ll do it as soon as the ceremony is over. 

As Jungwon steps onto the highest block on the podium, he’s still in disbelief. It isn’t until the medal actually gets hung around his neck, and he touches the shiny golden plaque. He’s not just Olympian Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 2025 World champion Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 6 time National champion Yang Jungwon. 

Now, he’s also Olympic champion Yang Jungwon. 

Falling back in love with skating was hard. Sometimes he felt like simply just giving up was the easier option – but now with the Olympic gold medal right in his hands, Jungwon knows that pushing through it was the right thing to do. He’s never been more sure of that. 

Jungwon has also never been more sure about the fact that he loves you, and he desperately needs to tell you. As soon as the venue ceremony is over, Jungwon rushes out of the rink, quickly changing from his skates to his regular training shoes – he doesn’t even bother to change out of his free skate costume. 

He finds you standing outside of his changing room, and before you can say anything, he wraps you in the tightest hug ever. He holds you like you’re oxygen, and he’s struggling to breathe. 

When he pulls away from the hug, with the gold medal dangling around his neck, he grasps ahold of your hands. “Jungwon, you did it.” you say, tears welling in your eyes. 

“I have to tell you something.” he murmurs. He opens the door of his changing room, pulling you in with him as he shuts the door. “What is it?” you ask.

“I love you.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“I have never, ever known what it’s like to love someone. Even figuring out that I liked you was so hard – because I knew that I felt differently when I was around you, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it on what it was. Then, I was told I had a crush on you. I liked you. And that seemed right. Liking you seemed right.” he says, as you let his words sink in. “I was going to wait until I found the right time to tell you that I liked you. But two days ago, I realised that my feelings towards you seem to be more than like. Love. Yes. I love you.” he says, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Saying it sounds right. Saying it now feels right. And I don’t know if you would feel the same way – but I just saw you in the crowd as I was skating today, and I just knew I had to tell you.” 

Jungwon can’t exactly read your reaction until you pull him into a hug. 

“I love you too.” you say.

Jungwon feels like he’s on top of the world. Four simple words managed to make him even happier than he already was after winning the Olympics – he feels like his heart is about to burst at the seams, and he can’t hide the bright grin on his lips. 

“That’s… that’s nice. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” Jungwon confesses, and you frown, cupping his cheeks as you wipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same way, Jungwon?”

“I don’t know.”

You smile softly at him. “I realised that I liked you after we went to the ramen shop that Harua had suggested to us.” 

“You realised earlier than me, then.” Jungwon chuckles. 

“I guess so.”

Jungwon can’t believe he only just realised the close proximity between your faces. Your gaze travels to his lips, before you look back up at his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” Jungwon whispers back.

You lean in, connecting your lips with his, and warmth just blooms across Jungwon’s chest, his cheeks, and all the way to the tip of his ears. He can taste the mint flavoured lip balm that he always sees you put on, and it’s only when you pull away that Jungwon realises that it was his first kiss. 

You smile at him brightly, and Jungwon mirrors the expression on your face. It’s hard not to smile when he sees you – you just make him so incredibly happy. Jungwon knows that you make him happier than any Olympic gold ever would. 

The sweet moment is cut short when Jungwon’s whisked away to the press conference, and you tell him that you’ll be seated in the crowd to watch. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before running off, his cheeks tinted bright red as you chuckle at his reaction. 

“How do you feel after a wildly successful season like this, Jungwon?” a reporter asks, and Jungwon thinks about what is the best way to answer his question. 

“This was… a tough season for me mentally.” he says into the microphone. “In all honesty, I fell out of love with figure skating quite some time ago. Going into this season, I was certain that I was going to retire after the Olympics.” 

Every single person in the room looks at him with wide eyes. 

“But, during the off season, I was lucky enough to meet someone who helped me start enjoying it again.” he says, looking directly at you. “They taught me that above all, I should be enjoying myself while I skate, instead of focusing on the pressures to win and do well.” 

“I don’t think I expected to do as well as I did all season,” Jungwon says earnestly. “But I realised that the more I enjoyed skating, the better I did. I think coming into the Olympics, I just tried to focus on having fun and showing the audience my best. Because of this, I think that’s why I was able to do well.” 

“So will this be your last competition?” 

Jungwon presses his lips together in a thin line, as if he’s still unsure about what decision he’s going to make. But when he locks eyes with you, it’s like everything clicks into place. He knows what he wants. He wants to skate. 

“It’s not my last competition,” he says. “I’m going to keep competing. At least for a little while longer. I realised that I can’t exactly let go of the ice this soon when I’ve just started loving it again.”

As he says that into the microphone, Jungwon knows that it’s the right call. There’s a proud smile on your lips, and Jungwon returns the gesture.   

The ice finally feels like home once more. But, Jungwon also realises that home is also wherever you are. 

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know Part 1

(next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake and Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Mason (you) have been best friends since diapers. You’ve been there for each other every step of the way; middle school bullies, broken hearts, baseball games, grad school and the Navy. Jake’s shaken to the core when a mission goes south and he takes his medical leave at home, knowing you’re the only thing that’ll make him feel okay again.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI-this chapter doesn’t contain smut but future ones will, discussions of death and cancer, swearing, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake always thought the whole ‘life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die’ saying was bullshit.

But as his jet plummets toward the ground and smoke fills the cockpit, he realizes it’s true; with one exception.

Every memory features you.

The engine failure alarms serve as the background music to each one that flies by. On the first day of kindergarten when you took his hand to lead him inside because he was too scared to go in alone. Being each other’s first kiss the night before Becca Wilson’s birthday party since seven minutes in heaven was rumored to happen. The relieved smile when you found out you were allowed to play on the boy’s high school baseball team since there weren’t enough girls for softball. How you blushed at his whistle when you walked down the stairs in your prom dress. The way you melted when he handed you the black lab puppy you wanted so badly after grad school but couldn’t afford. Finally, the heart-wrenching sobs as he held you when cancer stole your mom 6 months ago. He never wanted to hear it again.

Will you cry like that if he dies?

“No,” he mutters, picturing your tears, your devastation.

Is it better or worse that you don’t know he’s in love with you?

“Hangman, I need you to eject,” your voice whispers.

His brow furrows. You’ve never called him by his callsign.

“Charlie?” He mumbles, unconsciousness fighting to pull him under.

“HANGMAN! EJECT!” Rooster screams, pleading over the radio.

He snaps out of it and adrenaline pumps through his veins when he sees the ground rapidly approaching.

Everything goes black when he pulls the ejection handle.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“…recovery is at least 12 weeks. We’ll get you transferred to NHCP-“

“No. I’m going home,” Jake interrupts the doctor. He hates everything medical; between the needles, blood, fluorescent lighting, antiseptic smells, he feels like he could crawl out of his skin.

“Lt. Seresin, you’re going to need a lot of assistance. Help showering, stairs are out of the question, you can’t drive, daily physical therapy-“

“I know. I’ll have help at home and I know a great physical therapist,” Jake says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion.

The doctor hesitates before resigning with a sigh. “Alright. I’ll get the write the orders and finish your discharge paperwork so we can get you out of here.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A loud crash from your front porch has you sitting straight up in bed with a racing heart.

The hair on your dog’s (named Cash, after the Man in Black himself) back stands straight up as he growls low in his throat.

You slip out of bed and pick up the baseball bat you keep by your bed before creeping down the hall behind your dog.

“Charlie? It’s me,” Jake groans through the door. Cash relaxes when he hears Jake’s familiar voice and his tail starts to wag excitedly.

You drop the bat and throw it open. “What are you doing here at 5 in the morning?!” You laugh, but it dies when you see him on the ground. “Oh my God, Jake! What happened?! Are you okay?!” You gasp, crouching to help him onto his back. Cash stays back, sensing something isn’t right.

“I lost my balance on the step trying to juggle my suitcase and these fucking crutches,” he grits out, trying to right himself.

“Leave the crutches. I’ll hand them to you once I get you up. On three, okay? 1,2,3,” you say, hoisting him to his feet. Well, foot.

But before you can hand him the crutches, he wraps you in a tight hug with a choked sob.

“Oh Jake,” you whisper, tears prickling in your own eyes. You’ve only seen him cry a handful of times, and never like this.

You rub soothing circles on his back, only releasing him when he finally relaxes. “Let’s get you inside and off that leg.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“You look like awful,” you observe as you get him settled on your couch.

“Thanks,” he grimaces when you elevate his foot.

“What am I working with here?” You nod to his cast.

“Fractured the 2 bones in my lower leg. Nothing else is broken, I’m sore everywhere and my shoulders are pretty bruised too, but I was lucky.”

“You had to eject,” you conclude when he pulls his collar to show you the dark purpling.

“Yeah, in a heavily wooded area, hence the scratches on my face. I suppose it was a good thing though, slowed me down a little before I hit the ground.”

You bite your lip to stop the many questions on the tip of your tongue. He looks so exhausted, in pain, and not ready to talk about it yet.

“I’ll make us something to eat and I’m going back to sleep for a bit. You look like you could some too.”

He nods in agreement. “I haven’t slept in days…I just wanted to get home.”

“Well, now you are and can rest. I’ll be back in a few.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Here, take these,” you hand him some over-the-counter pain meds and a glass of orange juice once he has some food in his stomach.

“Thanks, I’m sorry to drop in like this. I don’t-I didn’t think things through, I just needed to get out of that hospital-“

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, unable to watch him getting more and more anxious. “Really, Jake. You know I’m always here for you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Charlie. So much,” he says, voice cracking. But he clears his throat and changes the subject. “This couch is amazing, but do you really need 50 pillows?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and roll your eyes. “Yes, I really do,” you say, smacking him gently with one of the said pillows before handing him the remote. “Wanna find something to watch while I throw these in the dishwasher?”

“Sure, thanks again.”

“Welcome,” you reply, ruffling his hair like you always have. It used to drive him crazy but now he relishes those touches.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Yessssss, Joe Dirt! I haven’t seen this in ages,” you say, throwing a blanket over him as you come back to the living room.

“We watched it last time I was home,” Jake says, giving you a look.

“Yeah, that was 5 months ago though,” you reply. Recalling why he was here.

Your mom had died early on a Tuesday morning. It was as peaceful as it could be when cancer ravishes someone so quickly. Cash was curled around your legs as you held one of her hands in yours, while Jake’s mom, Ruth held the other. Jake’s sister, Emma, played with the short hair that started to grow back when she stopped the chemo like she always did when she was little. Jake’s dad, Tom had a hand on her leg while he hummed ‘I’ll Fly Away’.

Jake’s family left once the funeral home took her body away after much convincing and reassuring that you were fine, and finally you could fall back into bed. That’s where you stayed for the next 18 hours until Jake found you, so empty and unlike yourself. He was on his way home when he found out Lisa had taken a turn for the worst, but she went downhill quicker than anyone expected. Your first tears fell as he climbed into bed and held you when the sobs wracked your body.

You’re not sure what strings he pulled but he stayed with you for 3 weeks. He helped you bathe and dry your hair the day of the funeral, making you smile when he said he couldn’t do make up. He held your hand at the service, and talked to everyone who approached to give their sympathies so you didn’t have to. He cleaned up her room, packed her clothes into totes, and arranged for the hospital bed to be taken away so you didn’t have to look at it.

“You could go years without watching it and be able to recite it by heart with how many times we’ve seen this movie,” Jake sighs dramatically.

“It’s my favorite. Can you blame me? Look at that mullet.”

“That’s what does it for ya? Maybe I’ll have to grow one,” Jake jokes, lifting his head as you sit down and resting back down on your thighs. Cash jumps up on the other side, resting his head between Jake’s and your stomach.

“Don’t tease me, you’ll turn me on with that visual,” you laugh. “Can you do the white-trash facial hair too? That combination? Phew! Panty dropping!”

He looks up from your lap and laughs for the first time since the accident.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The tension leaves his body as your fingers run through his hair, and he’s asleep within minutes.

Your chest tightens as you look him over; the dark circles under his eyes, a cut under his chin has stitches that will need to come out soon, the purple bruising by his shoulders when you shift his collar, and his leg swelling above the cast.

Yet he’s as beautiful as ever. He’s always been attractive-cute as a boy, hot as a teenager but downright mouth-watering as a man. You started to develop feelings in high school and hoped when you went your separate ways after that those feelings would fizzle out, but they didn’t. They were always simmering on the back burner with the absence, rising to the top with every reconciliation and boiling over when he took care of you 6 months ago.

You aren’t sure how Jake feels. He’s always been a flirt but sometimes you catch the heat in his eyes and the way he reaches for you before catching himself. As much as you long to find out, you aren’t willing to risk ruining your friendship.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s choking, panicked gasps wake you a few hours later.

“Jake, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead before you think better of it.

His eyes fly open and his panicked gaze meets yours. Cash comes over and nudges Jake's hand with his nose, whining until Jake puts his hand on his head.

“Take some deep breaths with me. In…one, two, three. Hold…one, two, three. Out…one, two, three. Good Jake, again.”

You repeat it until his breathing regulates.

“Charlie, we need to talk. I need you…r help.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: I think this is the first thing I’ve written without smut. Don’t worry, it’s coming. Sorry this was a little short, but it felt like a good stopping point.

Fun fact: Joe Dirt is the movie my husband and I watched the first time we hung out (back in 2009 🥴)

Every interaction is appreciated but I really like hearing what you think ☺️ Especially since this is the first time I’ve written something not based around smut haha.

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

[fubu18writes]

❧tinted glasses hide the relationship you both have

♢regular tags: f!reader, bonten!inui seishu, reader is kokonoi's secretary and fiance ♢mature tags: infidelity (koko's cheating on you and you're cheating on him), semi-public sex (you're in a parking lot lmao), getting fucked from behind, inui's kind of mean, swearing ♢ all characters are 18+ and above unless stated otherwise

a/n: I KNOW HOW HTML TEXTS WORK NOW. but anyway, figured that bonten inui hasn't been seen yet and i swear to god, he would be rough lmao. second attempt at writing smut, hopefully i'll do inui justice. i also want to say that i don't support infidelity. if you cheat on your partner, then that's on you and you alone. it's better to communicate and end the relationship rather than... this.

It started off nicely. At first anyway.

You were a bit confused to why arranged marriages were a thing but nonetheless you were happy. Kokonoi Hajime was pretty much Bonten's bank vault but you didn't love him for that. Too bad the mutual feelings weren't accepted as such.

Kokonoi didn't even try to hide the fact that he was cheating on you with someone. It was literally clear as day that he would make excuses just to avoid you outright. You hadn't seen the other woman yet, but when you decided to go through his phone to see who the fuck he was texting with, it was revealed that there were more women than just you.

Being in a relationship with any of the Bonten executives would mean either pleasure or pain. Other former secretaries (now turned pick-up girls) who were in a relationship with any of them would say that they weren't loyal and always had a backup plan if things went south. You ignored their warnings since Kokonoi was objectively nice to you, buying gifts and spending time with you. But boy, you realized that those warnings should've been a mental note rather than being disregarded.

You wanted to cry, but then you realized that this was Bonten, after all. It was bound to reveal itself sooner or later. You couldn't confine in anyone... except for Inui Seishu.

Inui was part of Bonten's executives. A "guard dog" as Kokonoi called him once. His expression definitely matched the nickname. He looked like a wild predator, waiting for its prey to latch onto the trap. But unlike the rest of Bonten, he didn't have anyone to "show off".

Inui was reserved, and even you took a long time in being able to talk to him. But that reservation finally disappeared when you confided to him about Kokonoi's infidelity. It was like a switch flipped in him.

It was revealed to you that Inui was Kokonoi's childhood friend, and that Kokonoi had a crush on his older sister, Akane. But when she died, he went downhill with the money collecting. And since he hadn't been able to move on from Akane, that's where the infidelity begins to start.

"Then do payback." Inui suggested bluntly.

You stare at him. "I'm sorry?"

"An eye for an eye. He cheats on you, you cheat on him." Inui says again, not looking up from his phone. It was like cheating was a topic that was brought up casually, but you weren't going to bring it up.

"I--I mean, I don't think I have the conscience to do that." You admitted. You didn't really, which was ironic since you were engaged to someone who could hurt you with no remorse.

Inui looks at you now, his eyes gleaming under a different light. "Then I'll make you have the conscience to."

(Waking up to the 4am call "Yesterday, when were you and who were you with?" you asked)

And this is where your infidelity starts.

It was around four in the morning when a phone call rudely interrupted your make-out session with Inui. You have to admit, being risky like this... it gave a thrill in you.

"Answer it," You let out a soft gasp when Inui's hand starts holding your thighs. "Answer it and put the speaker on."

You didn't bother in questioning it. You pressed answer, saying in the sweetest voice you could muster despite you disgust towards your fiance---or rather, ex-fiance. "Haji?"

"I'll get straight to the point." Kokonoi's voice was laced venom. "Yesterday. At eleven. When were you and who were you with?"

(Alternating between evasions and excuses Having fun using them)

"Haji, I asked Mikey if I could leave, remember?" You tell him. "You saw me going in and out of the room."

"I know, but I there's a gut feeling." Kokonoi sounded tired, but you couldn't care less at the moment. You bit your lower lip, feeling Inui's hands going in the inside of your pencil skirt. Inui gave you a look that said, "Keep talking".

You let out a sigh this time. "Hajime. I wouldn't do anything to ruin the relationship."

There was a long pause. "...really? You wouldn't do anything to ruin what we have?"

(Things like "You're my only one", I say it so often that I can laugh about it all day long)

"You're my only one, Haji." You say sweetly. "Promise."

Another long pause starts before you hear the line cut. "Finally, let me fuck you in peace." Inui grumbled quietly before swiftly removing your panties. You covered your mouth to stifle a moan as his fingers were playing with your clit. "Wanna hear your moans, pretty. Don't bother in hiding it..."

You only shake your head, and Inui's response was to experimentally slide a finger inside of you. You didn't hold back your moan this time, leaning against hood of his car to keep yourself balance. "Inu--Inui, please--"

"Seishu."

"Seishu, let me cum, please," You were begging at this point, your legs shaking.

"Mhm," Seishu pulls out his fingers and you managed to catch your breath, panting heavily. "Turn around, I'm fucking you like the needy bitch you are."

(I simply enjoy "doing it" With someone, you know?)

Your pencil skirt was on the ground, arms on the hood of his car and your ass in full display. Inui unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down just a little to show his cock. You could see from the dim light that it was big, veiny, and there was precum leaking from the tip. You practically drooled at the sight, clenching onto nothing. "Koko hasn't seen like this, has he?" He slides into you without a warning, earning a porn-worthy moan from you. "When was the last time you've been taken care of properly?"

You only shake your head, covering your mouth again to hide your moans. "Seishu, s-someone could see--Ah!" You hide your face, avoiding eye contact when he moves his hips. "Don't care. If anyone would see, it'll be you fucking on my dick like a whore."

(My bitter and hot spice, I'll give it to you right now)

Only the sounds of squelching and skin slapping were being heard in the somewhat empty parking lot. It was like your vision was starting to blur, the only thing keeping you from falling down to the ground was Inui's cock in your tight and messy cunt.

"Sei--Oh, fuck--Sei!"

Inui could feel that you were reaching your climax as you clench your fists. "Want--Want you inside, Sei, please-" You turn to him with needy tears glossing you eyes, probably from the pleasure he was giving you. It's as if his eyes weren't already clouded in lust in desire.

If Kokonoi wasn't going to give you what you deserve, then Inui certainly will.

(My unforgettably wonderful taste, can you feel it throughout your body?)

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

deleted tweet - jack hughes

jack hughes x singer!reader

fc: gracie abrams

warnings: swearing

liked by alishaboe, stephbohrer and 329,246 others

ynofficial: rest sing read repeat

view all comments

fan3: be honest how mad were you that the sing didn't match the mantra?

ynofficial: i had to put my phone down and contemplate stuff for half an hour before i could even post it

fan4: SOUTH AMERICA TOUR WHEN???

fan5: so about your tweet...

fan6: finish the sentence and reveal ur man or else

ynofficial: that's the friendliest threat i've ever had omg ur adorable

ynofficial added to their story

liked by trevorzegras, nhl and 114,875 others

jhughes: ;)

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fan7: i burnt my finger liking this bc it's so hot

fan8: miss u

fan9: marry me immediately

fan10: the last picture?????? girl???????

fan11: he got one i think yeah sorry

fan12: pls don't hurt yourself

liked by tchalamet, rainsford and 341,835 others

ynofficial: when i tell you this trip was spontaneous i mean we booked it and left in two hours

view all comments

fan13: some might say that's called character development

ynofficial: (+anxiety)

fan14: respectfully your man's back is filthy fine

liked by ynofficial

fan15: invite me next time

fan16: timothee?????

fan17: let's not get ahead of ourselves

liked by ynofficial and 147,186 others

jhughes: my spotify wrapped in two photos

view all comments

fan18: dw we're y/n fans too

_quinnhughes: very subtle

lhughes_06: he's shooting his shot

fan19: she liked so i'd say his shot was pretty accurate

liked by jhughes, colecaufield and 300,163 others

ynofficial: wow. why am i blushing rn?

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fan20: next album about jack hughes confirmed?

ynofficial: well they're definitely love songs i'll say that

fan21: love songs????? THEY'RE NOT DEPRESSING?????????

fan22: yk what? idc what anyone says i ship it

trevorzegras: if you come to anaheim i'll show you a better time

jhughes: i forbid it no way

fan23: not them fighting for yn in the comments

liked by ynofficial, nicohischer and 425,285 others

jhughes: best year with my girl, love you to the moon and to saturn

view all comments

trevorzegras: you owe me $50

jhughes: no that's not what we agreed

trevorzegras: but you got caught before announcing it

fan24: trevor read the room

fan25: wish someone would take photos of me like that

ynofficial: fuck i'm so in love it's embarrassing

jhughes: it's part of my charm, dear

fan26: THE TAYLOR REFERENCE!!!!!!! dying

liked by baileybass, claudiasulewski and 582,543 others

ynofficial: when you smile i swear i die a little. my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder, easily

view all comments

ynofficial: also, if you didn't get it, i really love this man

ynofficial: on the back of that, jhughes, thank you for allowing me to relate to the happy taylor songs!

liked by jhughes

fan27: i'm crying

fan26: parents

fan27: teaser of new lyrics??

ynofficial: yes, and i can confirm that the new album is about jack

fan28: i squealed

fan29: what about that tweet you deleted?

ynofficial: there are children here! i refuse to be blamed for destroying their innocence

fan30: omg jack getting annoyed at trevor for saying you should go to anaheim makes so much more sense

fan31: you guys have been dating since january?????

jhughes: god i'm so lucky

liked by ynofficial

[imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd]

Quaritch being a southern Dad (Modern!AU)

@hyperfixatedfandomer @naavispider

A/N: idk if quaritch is actually supposed to be from Kansas like he says in the movie but people headcanon him being from all over the south. Accents and sayings are different all over the south, I’m from east central Alabama so these are just based things I say or other people say

Southern dictionary

Buggy: Shopping Cart

Toboggan: kit cap or benie

‘r: or

sghetti: spaghetti

Coke:soda

that boy ain’t missed at meal: That boy fat as hell

Yur: your

Scow: let’s go

Jeet: you eat

Wallerin: pouting or crying

Bud light: beer

Miles: Spider I swear to god you better behave in this goddamn Walmart or I will tear your ass up. Now go get me a buggy

Spider: ………a what?

Miles: A buggy spider go get a buggy

Spider: YOU MEAN A SHOPPING CART!

Miles: *mocking his voice* you mean a shopping cart? GO GET THE DAMN BUGGY

Miles: Spider it’s cold outside put this toboggan on

Spider: Toboggan? This is a benie.

Miles: JUST PUT THE DAMN HAT ON SON

*Spider fucking up that good ass bbq masnk made*

Miles: Damn, son slow down, you got a tapeworm ‘r sumthing?

Miles: Spider go grab me some sghetti sauce

Spider: Wtf is sghetti sauce, are you talking about SPAgehtti sauce

Miles: Boy go get my sauce

Miles: Hey spider I got you that coke you wanted

Spider: I didn’t want cocoa cola

Miles: I didn’t get you cocoa cola, now come get your coke

Spider: *Confused Nosies*

I NOW PRESENT QUARITCH SAYING SOUTHER DAD THINGS

Spider thats the worng ammo, I swear you bout as useful as a screen door on a submarine

Lyle I swear they done moved everything around in that damn Walmart, I was confused as a homeless man on house arrest

Spider, I’ll tell you what that boy ain’t missed at meal

SPIDER GET YUR ASS IN THE TRUCK LETS SCOW

Well hell spider I figured I was speaking English what language do you speak, dumbass?

Spider did jeet yet?

Yep, Spiders up there walliern in the bed cuz I took that bud light away from him

[ax-cx]

INTOXICATING

Luke Castellan x Fem!OC

slight Pervy!Luke and Toxic!Luke

Warnings: swearing, heavy make out, mentions of slight stalking, super obsessed Luke, mention of drugs, flirting

Just pure fluffy love really

“You can’t keep dancing with the devil and ask why you’re still in hell.”

Intoxicating

adjective

- (of alcoholic drink or a drug) liable to cause someone to lose control of their faculties or behaviour.

- exhilarating or exciting.

- "an intoxicating sense of freedom"

Laila was intoxicating. Just looking at her made my mind run miles. Her beautiful brown hair, falling down over her shoulders. Her beautiful green eyes, glinting when she looks up at me. Her beautiful smile, contagious and bubbly.

Fuck man, I’m so done for. The way she says my name, gods help me.

“Luke.” soft, sweet and silky. Just imagine how it’d sound beneath- no shut up Luke. She’s perfect. Don’t ruin her.

“Yes sweetheart?” oh gods, stop looking at me like that dollface. Can’t you see me melting here?

“I need your help.” her cheeks reddened. Like strawberries and summer sun.

I can’t be this crazy for a girl, right? I’m just Luke. I’m the best swordsman at camp, son of Hermes, and a silly little Demeter girl can’t make me feel this way. Even though she picks flowers everywhere she goes, and the roses greet her like an old friend; even though the shrubs and plants seem to bloom brighter when she walks past, nature pouring from every pore of her pure soul.

“Of course Laila, what do you need?” my voice was shaky, of course it was. She was so fucking stunning my heart hurt. She gave me a headache and a high I couldn’t chase anywhere else. So I was her little servant instead.

She wanted help? Always. Can’t choose an outfit? Sweetheart you look perfect in blue. Someone giving her a hard time? I’ll fucking kill them. She wants food? I’ll get her anything. That bracelet’s cute? Bought it already.

I followed her like a wolf trailing behind a little lamb. All I wanted was her aura, her devilishly inducing soul. I’d do anything she asked. I’d burn the goddamn world to the ground. Just to make her happy. Anything to see her smile.

Chris told me I was obsessed. Maybe I am. Just a little. Just a lot. She takes up my every waking thought, tying up my mind in flowers and thorns, sweet smiles and sugary sounds. The way she walked. The way she talked.

I found myself hidden outside her window, looking in on her dressing once. Like a child outside a candy shop, my face was pressed to glass so hard I nearly fell through. The curves of her body, the scars on her knees, the freckles across her shoulders and clavicle. She rivalled Aphrodite, the fucking beauty she is.

“I need a new bikini and I don’t know which one to get.” fuck. How am I meant to hold myself back now? Surely she’s trying to kill me.

“Laila you look great in anything. But-“

“Blue’s your favourite colour, I know Luke, I know.” Laila I’m begging you, don’t put a blue bikini on, I might fuck up this perfect relationship. “So I picked out two blue ones but I don’t know which ones better.”

Oh god. I could feel my blood going south already. I watched as she slipped into the changing room, drawing the curtain, metal scraping metal. I listened as she shuffled, watched her clothes hit the floor and the shadows of her curves pulling the material on. I hated how long I waited, I was dying to see her.

I was dying to see my girl.

Metal scraping metal, and a soft whisper. “Luke?” my eyes met perfection.

Shamelessly letting my eyes wander, the blue fabric was tastefully perfect on her sun-bronzed skin. I’d forever be grateful for Apollo for how he made her shine. Her hips, her breasts, smattered with freckles and battle scars, marred in its most perfect form. Glowing and radiant. A princess in its finest definition. My beautiful drug. Little shells and gold trinkets were looped into the mesh, woven into the blue and trailing down her ribs and thighs.

Her hair was tucked behind her ears, her face on full display. Strawberries and summer sun dancing across her cheeks. Playful freckles smeared on her skin, full lips pulled into a meek grin. I stood up, and took her chin by the finger, lifting her embarrassed eyes to meet mine. I saw her curl in on herself.

“Laila you don’t need to be ashamed. You look great.” great. A disgusting understatement for how ethereal she looked. Aphrodite worked her magic and worked hard on her. The word felt filthy on my tongue. A princess like her needed to be praised and showered in the filthiest compliments, degraded by affection and ruined by attention. She glowed, and the world stopped.

I couldn’t hear a thing but my heartbeat. Racing, trying to tear from my chest and embrace hers. Her eyes gleamed, and I felt my resolve crumble. My confidence, my senses, my mind and soul falling to bare parts of who I am.

A man so effortlessly infatuated with a woman.

Losing all my thoughts, all my being, I melted into her. I gave up, finally leaning into my instincts and pressing my lips to hers.

They say your first kiss with a person you love is like fireworks. Your lips ignite and everything feels right.

It’s a lie. It’s like a fucking war. Winning and losing, fighting and failing. Kissing the girl I’m completely besotted with. Fuck. Her lips were heaven on earth, soft and plump, the perfect fit to mine. Gods this girl was meant for me. I truly must’ve been blessed, for finding a girl that just fits effortlessly, lips the missing piece to my fucked up puzzle, is a one in a billion girl.

I reluctantly pulled my lips from hers, immediately missing the warmth that bloomed in my chest, the warmth of her lips.

“Laila I’m so sorry.” she blinked, once, twice, still processing what is just done. I’d fucked it, I’d royally fucked it. “I couldn’t, I just couldn’t help my-“

My breath cut short, her fingers pulled on my belt loops, pulling me in, roping me further into her spell. She kissed me. Crashing our lips together, all teeth and tongue, all love and war. My perfect girl perfectly kissing me. My eyes were shut so tight, sight a pathetic sense when compared to her taste, her smell, her feel. Like the world was put right.

My hands swallowed her hips, kneading the supple bronze flesh. She was gold personified. Glowing, valuable and just stunning. Her skin was putty in my hands, the perfect golden feeling against my calloused hands. Soft and untouched. All mine to ruin.

I almost felt bad. Touching something so celestial, with my broken and damaged hands. With my plans and my anger. With my disgust and falsified details. With my wrath and rage. With my betrayal and my suffering. But I didn’t care. My care was out the window as soon as she kissed me. I finally got to be selfish for once. Thinking only of myself for once.

She was pure sugar. Addicting, intoxicating. Like my own personal cocaine.

Her hands were woven into my curls, like the soft curves of a tapestry twisting a timeless tale. This is a moment to remember for as long as I live, something I don’t ever want to forget.

She pulled her lips from mine, and my lips ached for the contact again. “So this one?” she grinned, her beautiful beautiful smile on her beautiful beautiful lips.

“I’ll get you both princess.”

My beautiful drug.

[hirsheyskisses]

My Fiery Roommate

Prologue.

EUSTASS KID x READER

A/N: I cut this off a bit short because it'll make starting the next chapter a bit easier.. but prologues are allowed to be weirdly cut so 😭

"301, 301.. ah, here."

You set your suit cases down and fumbled with your keys to find the key, unlocking the door and moving into the building.

Your gaze was met with empty, beyond a couch, TV, and a small kitchen with a microwave, sink, oven, and fridge. It was a decently high end apartment. According to the floor plan, the bathroom would be down the hall to the left, the larger room across from it, and the smallest bedroom at the end. You had chosen that one because of the better view- according to the lady who toured you, your roommate had chosen the bigger one, anyways. That was fine.

Lugging your bags to the small room, it was also, for the most part, empty. There was a box that held a desk your brother had bought you, and a bed in the corner. Pushing your cases by the bed, you flopped down, sighing. "So damn hot in the South.." you groaned, running a hand through your hair.

Having come from the North, you had decided that as you turned 21, you'd start a new life. There was so much.. you needed to leave behind. So you did. You'd saved up, you'd worked your ass off, and came to the South, a grand place where many successful people began. They had the best education, best work opportunities .. even if rumors had it that the people were a bit brash. Honestly though, the few people you'd had brief interactions with were absolute sweethearts, so you'd decided that rumor was a bunch of crap.

You laid there for a bit before beginning to unpack the first suitcase: clothes. You'd brought pants, shirts, and jackets (which you were beginning to think you didn't need) and the under-clothing essentials. Each piece got placed on a hook and hung on the clothing rack, save for again, the under garments, which got re-folded and placed back into the suitcase for privacy.

"Who the hell left the damn door unlocked?! Fuckin asking to get broken into."

The sound of loud footsteps broke you out of your unpacking trance, and you froze. That was a man's voice. Slowly you reached for the closest solid thing you could find, which happened to be a boot, and slowly walked over to your door.

"Consider it maybe that the other resident is here, Kid?" An exasperated, also masculine voice spoke up, and you slowly creaked open your door.

"It's a God damn safety hazard, I swear when I get my hands on him-"

You held the boot behind you as you stepped out of your room, leaving the door open in case you had to run back in. "Excuse me?" Your voice cracked, just a bit, upon realizing just how huge both men were. Both easily cleared 6' and were built like absolute tanks, and now had their full attention on you.

It seems you all were in shock, until the blonde spoke up, voice a mixture of light and gruff, "sorry. Who are you?" Bangs covered his eyes and he wore a black mask that covered the rest of his face, a polka-dot shirt and jeans being what he wore. "Im.. one of the residents. I have the papers to prove it. ...you are?"

"Fuck you mean, one of the residents?! Thought my roommate was supposed to have balls," the red haired man's voice was almost condescending. His hair held up by a red bandanna, he wore a black tank that hugged his large torso, jeans, with heavy duty looking boots. "Well I'm sorry, Jaggy, that I don't meet your expectations!" "The FUCK you call me?!"

That was a mistake. The man moved closer, clenching his fists, until he was almost right in front of you. In a moment of panic, you threw the boot you'd been holding right at his face, turned, and darted right back into your room, slamming rhe door shut and locking it.

"..YOU LITTLE SHIT!" that moment of silence was gone, with the man storming down the hall and banging his fist on your door. "Kid that's enough- you had that coming-"

You backed yourself against the bed, hand over your heart, holy shit, I just did that. HES GONNA KILL ME-

The pounding continued for a minute before you heard him storming off, slamming the door to what you assumed to be his room. A soft tap on your door caught your attention and, warily, you opened it just a crack. You were met by the blonde, who offered you your boot. Accepting it, you questiond,

"...is he gonna kill me-" your voice was barely a whisper, and the man hesitated before shaking his head. "He doesn't actually hit women unless they genuinely deserve it. Sorry about him. I'm Killer."

"...well that's not menacing at all. (Name.) I'm (Name)." You opened it a bit more to shake his hand, noting just how firm his grip was. Killer huffed, shaking his head as he pulled his hand away, "He's Eustass Kid, your actual roommate."

You hesitated for a moment before questioning, "I've heard students talking about you guys the other day on Campus."

"...we've got a bit of a reputation."

"... should I be worried?"

"No."

"KILLER GET YOUR ASS IN HERE! I can hear ya talking to that damn pipsqueak!" Killer tensed as Kid's voice, shrugging at you, "see ya around." Before retreating to Kids room to assist the man in unpacking.

You shut the door again, feeling relief that atleast Killer seemed decent. A deep breath, it's gonna be a long year...

You'd finished packing a few hours prior, and had been laying on your bed listening to music, watching as the sky grew darker and darker until you decided it was time to call it a night. Moving to the bathroom, you began to run hot water in the sink as you prepared your tooth brush, when the door opening had you shrinking.

"..move over." Was all the man said, holding what you recognized as the bathroom essentials- toothbrush, brush, ..was that lipstick? Actually getting a good look at him, you realized he wore red lipstick with dark eyeliner.

"Jeez. For all you know I coulda been taking a piss." You grumbled, moving over none the less, moving to brush your teeth. "You'd better fuckin lock the door when you do, then. Clearly you need a lesson in that." Kid growled, setting his stuff down and also readying his own toothbrush for use..

"Yeah yeah.. I left the front door unlocked so the next person wouldn't struggle so much getting their bags in." Your responded, voice a bit muffled by the teeth brusher, and he scoffed. "Bullshit. You forgot, Pipsqueak."

"Whatever makes you feel better, Jaggy." For a moment you both went about your business, you finishing up the teeth brushing and beginning to wash your face with the hot water.

"Hey. Your name." "What?" You glanced at Kid, who was currently glaring at you, "you heard me. Give me your name." He growled, and you, with a dripping wet face, responded, "(Name). It's (Name)."

"Eustass Kid." "I know, Killer told me." He scoffed, spitting into the sink as you dried your face, him moving to wash his makeup off. "Behind you," you stated, slipping behind him to reach the door, and Kid inched forward a bit, seeing as it was a cramped bathroom. He was clearly tired, so you were gonna assume that's why he was being nice.

"..in the living room, 8. Any class?" "No?" You replied, confuses, "good. Because if your ass ain't in the living room by then, I'm dragging your ass out of bed."

You tensed, arms crossing. "Mind fuckin' explainin'? Cuz I don't enjoy the idea of hanging out with you." Kid grabbed a towel and began to dry his now make-up less face, pulling down his headband so it rest around his neck. His hair looked better when it was down, you decided. "So we can go over the damn roommate rules. Killer told me it was a fuckin thing or something. It makes sense." That caught you by surprise, nodding your head in agreement. "Rule 1, dont drag me out of bed or ill twist your balls."

Kid froze, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head, and then, "..think I'd rather ya kick em."

"You don't get that blessing, I'm not an angel in the morning. Now if you'll excuse me, Jaggy, I need to get my beauty sleep."

As you turned you glanced back at him, "gnight." He was still scowling, teeth clenched, "tch." Kid clicked his tongue and moved to exit the bathroom, and you both made your way to your rooms for sleep.

[bapydemonprincess]

Concern

"Oi," A familiar drawl snaps the butler out of his brief mental check of today's chore list. Chin pinched with black gloves. Looking off into nothing.

Currently both the Gardener and Young Master are standing by, all taken care of; bundled up for the winter chill that has hit them hard this year.

The Young Master insisted vehemently to accompany him and Finnian on their wood gathering. Saying all but "I'm completely done with all my work thus far on my studies, I assure you. so let me get out of this blasted stuffy room for once."

Again in the present Sebastian is still mulling over what he'll be shouldered with after their stroll, and so he still doesn't hear (or more like refuses to acknowledge) the chef approaching them, a purpose in his stomping gait as he arrives right in front of the other man.

"Oi, what th'ell you doin', Sebastian, eh?"

He briefly pinches the end of Sebastian's scarf he threw on half-hazardly, violently shakes it for emphasis, then let's it drop again.

All while looking the butler in the eye as if suddenly he wants to have a bout right there in the main entryway.

"You tryin' t'catch yer death on purpose or wot?"

Sebastian practically snorts, but refrains, lips twitching at this sudden appearance of Mother Henning from the usually unbothered and lazy as-all-get-out chef.

"Oh, is there a problem, Bardroy? Would me being a little chilled while going out for but a mere half an hour bother you?"

"Oh you think you'd be just a "little chilled" eh? Thinkin' you wouldn't come back an' end up catchin' a cold or flu, or even bloody pneumonia with 'ow god awful it is out there, eh?"

He waves briefly over to the boys awkwardly standing near by.

"Meanwhile you got them all bundled up fit for endurin' a winter storm!"

"One: They are children and I am not. Two, Bardroy: it certainly is not my first English Winter, trust me, three-"

Bardroy grabs both ends of the loose scarf and this time tugs firmly, making the taller man prattling before him practically fall forward.

But he doesn't.

Bardroy's firm grip makes sure the other man merely is forced right into his face.

Their foreheads knocking gently, as Sebastian's eyes open wider and stare in pure surprise, those thin eyebrows lifted up high for once.

"Listen 'ere, you," Bard growls low, "believe it or not, the deep south o' Arizona an the like get bloody cold as fuck, got it? In the deserts at night a man can freeze t'death before 'e even realizes it. So don't. Fuck. Wiff cold. Don't ya dare go an' fuck with those harsh winter woods, with these boys on tow, an' next thing ya know Finny's gotta carry back a long ass big ol icle of a butler, prolly cryin' all the fuckin' way, too."

He stops. Finally. Panting a little from this tangent out of no where, noticeably getting red in the face too.

And the butler, still enduring having his face pressed into Bard's the entire time... stars to smile.

And his eyes go half lidded again.

Shimmering and dancing with amusement aplenty.

"Ah, so it would bother you to some extent, then. I see."

And he says it so softly it's almost a whisper, or like just a comment he's making to himself.

Growling again the other man pushes this time, in order to straighten Sebastian up and push him a few inches away.

However he doesn't let him go for long. Oh no, the chef proceeds to grumble under his breath (something about "damn stupid pretty boy with no bloody sense a' self preservation I swear-") as he unwraps the butler's scarf from around his neck and then leans in further, almost aggressively thrusting himself up close again, to wind it back round him. Tighter, more hugging his neck, and finishes with tying what is left somehow.

"There, that's better," Bard openly comments, looking still mad about it but now satisfied with himself as he pulls back a little. But quickly, idly, pats the other man's coat front as if to confirm everything is good.

"I'd also suggest a cap o' some kind too, awright. Somethin' like the scarf. Damn the consequences o' messin' up yer pretty hair an' all that, it's about survival and nothin' else, you 'ear me?'

He finally shuts up this time, really meeting Sebastian's eyes this time, and so invested in this he's expecting to see some kind of expression of grat-

Sebastian sweeps in to kiss the man's cheek.

"Thank you dear," he purrs.

And then he's turning back to the boys and trotting to the door with purpose.

"Now. Let's carry on, before we lose anymore daylight, hm? Follow me."

And Sebastian, the Young Master, and Finny are almost out the door.

When the demon hears the familiar loud groan of a man who's just realized his predicament he's gotten himself into coming from back inside.

And Sebastian allows himself the pleasure to grin to himself, eyes shut, looking the picture of a creature who's just won a hard fought battle and all the spoils that entails.

Note: this whole scene is inspired by that now famous kuro chapter title page from chapter 198:

[strawmyberry]

thank u for the kyle tickle hcs... him being the most ticklish out of the m4 AND being weakest to light tickling is SO IMPORTANT TO ME

you get me anon!!! lee kyle is so cute!! so cute in fact- i got a little surpriseeee! thank you all so much for all the kind words on my first fic!! im so glad you guys liked it 🥹 soooo…here’s another one!! i hope you guys like it!! thanks again!!

— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

B for Broflovski!

Lee Kyle / Ler Stan

Word Count: 4,229

With Kyle panicking over the “horrible” grade he got on his History test, Stan puts a little extra effort into convincing him that “B” doesn’t always have to stand for “Bad.” In fact, to him, it stands for something a thousand times better.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Stan knew Kyle was a perfectionist. Kyle knew Kyle was a perfectionist. The entire town of South Park knew Kyle was a perfectionist; yet, somehow, despite that, Stan was never really prepared for when Kyle would have one of those days.

“It’s bullshit, dude! I’m telling you; it’s fucking bullshit! Mr. Garrison has some kinda’ personal vendetta against me. I fucking hate him! ‘Fucking asshole, it’s ridiculous!”

Stan had gotten used to walking quickly besides Kyle since Kyle had the tendency to walk and talk, especially when he was in a bad mood. Luckily for Stan, he was pretty good at keeping up.

“And Cartman? Oooh, ‘fucking Cartman? I’m going to kick his ass- I deal with a lot of shit from him. I take it! I suck it up and I take it! But this? I’m done. I’m going to shove my foot so far up his ass- I swear to god-“

Stan had tried a million strategies when it came to this issue, and he had found that the best thing to do was to let Kyle get all of it out of his system. Let him ramble, eventually he’d get tired of it. After that is when he’d be able to talk logically with his, figure out what to do next.

“The only reason he got an A was because he cheated off of Tolkien. But, of course, Garrison doesn’t see it! As if it’s not the most obvious thing in the world! It’s so fucking dumb dude, I seriously can’t- Ma, I’m home! Stan’s here too, we’re gonna go upstairs, okay?”

Okay, Stan had to admit, it was a little funny how Kyle’s rage was like an on and off switch when it came to his mom. He’d be cursing up a storm one second and the next he’d go all Positive Paul on him. He’d shout a quick hello to Kyle’s mom too, because…manners, before following Kyle up the stairs and into his room.

“It just- It pisses me off so much! It’s not fair- I studied so hard for that stupid test!”

Stan would place his backpack next to Kyle’s dresser. He’d proceeded to chase the redhead around his room a little bit, stopping his endless pacing for a second so he could take the backpack off his friend’s back. He’d plop it next to his own before throwing himself onto Kyle’s bed, already getting himself comfortable. Knowing Kyle, this could go on for…god know how long.

“I fucking hate South Park…”

Kyle loved to rant and rave, yeah. It always made him feel a lot better- since he was able to get all his anger out without punching a hole in his wall. But…he could only talk for so long without breathing. So, he’d take a small break, just so he could regain his breath. Kyle would turn back to Stan- only to see the position he was in.

Stan was laying in his bed. Yes- yes that’s what beds are for- but Stan was laying in his bed. Like, laying in his bed. Head amidst a sea of pillows, body sinking slightly into the soft mattress, limbs languidly sprawled across the bed; the whole works. “Oh- sorry, ‘you done?” He’d ask, his words muffled by all of the pillows around his head.

“Uh…no. Not yet. Sorry- I can stop if you’d like-“

“No! No, keep going. I’m all ears.”

“Ooookay…?” Kyle would nod, confused as hell. How long had he been like that? How didn’t he notice before? Why was he messing up his pillows? Well- now he couldn’t remember where he had left off. He’d stare at the bed post as his mind wandered, trying to retrace his steps. Oh! Yeah! Hating South Park!

“…I think today was stupid.” Kyle would start, starting the tirade off slowly. “Everything about it, yeah, but the changing seats thing was really stupid.” He’d continue, the momentum slowly picking up as he spoke. He was getting the hang of it again!

“I mean, I get the changing seats thing. But I told him! I said, “Mr. Garrison, please keep me next to Stan. He keeps me focused.” Which is true because you’re one of the only ones in class who isn’t a total moron. And even when you are- you don’t do it to annoy me- you just-“

“Wait. Uh-go back? …Why am I being called a moron? What did I do?” Sitting up from his extremely habitable position, Stan would raise his left eyebrow; his face laced with confusion. Stan would usually listen to everything Kyle had to say before talking, but that little comment about him just threw him for a loop.

“Huh? I’m not calling you a moron, dude.”

“Uh…you just did though?”

“Did I? Really?” A flicker of his own confusion would cross his face, accompanied by a subtle furrowing of his brow as he stood there for his moment. He’d tap his foot, humming a bit as he thought before it clicked. Kyle’s face would turn white. “Oh shit.” His eyes would widen, quickly holding his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…I don’t think you’re a moron…sorry..”

“No, I know. It’s okay, man, really!” Stan would give a reassuring smile, letting the comment just slide off his shoulders. “You’re upset, dude, it’s all good.” Stan had gotten used to that too. Kyle was a very…passionate person- he’d go really big when it came to his rants. Stan knew better than to actually take offense to anything Kyle said when he was in one of those moods.

“Yeah…It’s just- maybe I get Garrison not putting us together because we’re Super Best Friends. I mean- I don’t really get it- but I could see the logic behind it. But, at the very least, he could’ve sat me next to someone who wasn’t a total asshole! Sit me next to Craig! He’s quiet! Or Tolkien! Tweek! Jimmy! Butters! I would’ve been fine with anyone! Anyone! Except, Cartman! And guess what happens! Guess who I get sat next to! Guess!”

Stan would nod along as he listened, staying sat up this time instead of going to lay back down again. He wouldn’t really notice he was supposed to answer the question at first. He thought it was rhetorical! After all, he was literally there. He saw all of this happen already. But…okay? He’d play along? “Uh…Cart..man?”

“Fucking Cartman! I’m pissed, but I’m like: “OK, whatever, I can deal with this, no big deal.” But then, I’m in the middle of the test- the test. ‘You know? The thing where you’re supposed to do your own work and shut the fuck up while you do it? And for some goddamn reason-he just won’t shut the fuck up! And I’m thinking: “Is it really that hard to just shut your fucking mouth for five seconds?” But, whatever, I studied for this test so I’m gonna get a good grade on it! Right? No! Fucking no! ‘Cause it’s let’s all dog on Kyle day! And I think his voice was just so fucking grating- I just forgot half of the shit that I studied! He fucked me! He literally fucked me!”

Man. Who needed TV? Who needed Assassins Creed, Indiana Jones, and Lego Batman when you had Kyle Broflovski as your super angry, Super Best Friend? He was basically free entertainment at this point! Stan’s eyes would follow Kyle around the room, and Kyle was moving so much it looked like Stan was watching a tennis match.

“-And you know what really upsets me? ‘You know what just irks me like just a little bit? The fact that I know I’m gonna have to walk in the school tomorrow, and Wendy is gonna come up to me-and she’s gonna be like, “Oh, Kyle! How did you do on the history test? I’m really happy with my grade!” And I’m gonna have to be like, “Oh yeah, Wendy! I’m sure you are!” And then she’s gonna rub it in my face like she always does-“

“What? Wendy doesn’t rub her grades in your face…” Stan would, admittedly, get a little defensive at that statement. This was his girlfriend they were talking about! And…well- she wasn’t here to defend her own honor like he knew she would’ve liked to- so he was gonna do it for her! “Wendy wouldn’t try to make you feel bad about yourself, Kyle-“ Stan would start to say, cutting himself off when Kyle randomly pointed his index finger at him.

“You know what’s funny? I knew you were going to say that!” Kyle would argue, his eyes lit with a combo of satisfaction and frustration. “I knew you were going to defend Wendy! You’re biased, Stan!”He’d accuse. “She rubs her grades in my face all the time! You just turn a blind eye to it because you’re biased!”

“What are you talking about? Dude, if anything, I’d be biased towards you. I’ve known you longer.” Stan would jump to defend himself, rolling her eyes as he did. “I’m sorry if she’s hurt your feelings, Kyle, but I’m sure there’s no bad blood there.” That was a bit of a half-assed apology. Again, Kyle was ranting- so Stan had no idea if he actually meant half of the shit he was saying. He just wanted to resolve the situation.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure it’s not a big deal to you! You’re not the one who’s gonna be ridiculed for getting a B on the test!” Kyle would retort, crossing his arms as he huffed.

“I’m sorry…what?” Stan looked stunned. Staring at Kyle as if he had three heads, Stan would open his mouth to speak- just to cut himself off before he managed to say anything. He was trying to think of a nice way to put this. Really really hard. “…Run that by me again?”

“Don’t be an asshole! I got a B, okay?! It’s embarrassing- I know!”

“…Dude.” Stan would pinch the arch of his nose, letting out a long, irritated sigh. “That’s what this is about? Seriously?” He’d clarify. “…This whole time, I thought you had gotten an F- or, at the very best, a D. You got a B?” Stan wasn’t even mad, honestly. Actually, he was a little bit impressed. “Kyle…” At this point, Stan couldn’t help but laugh. There was no way this was actually happening. “A B is a good grade, dude. You have nothing to worry about.”

Now, Stan knew he was one to say stupid things sometimes- but this time, he could’ve sworn that what he said was actually a little bit smart. But the look Kyle was giving him? It almost made him doubt himself. Kyle was looking at him as if he had just said he puts milk in the bowl before the cereal. His jaw would drop, holding his hand out in front of him in shocked horror. “…You did not just say that to me.”

“Kyle, seriously, you’re wigging out over nothing!” Stan would try to explain, getting up from the bed. “You don’t need to beat yourself up over this. It’s just a B! A B is, what? …80%? That’s good! That’s really good!”

“I can’t believe you’re actually telling me this right now! You have to be shitting me! Do you even know what the B stands for, Stan?” Kyle would ask, the look on his face saying that he already knew the answer. “Do you? Do you, Mr. Isaac Newton? Care to enlighten me?”

“Jesus Christ…” Stan would grumble, rolling his eyes yet again. He’d stand there for a second, shrugging the question off. “…I dunno, brilliant?”

“Brilliant?” Kyle would repeat. “Brilliant?!” Kyle’s eye would twitch, as if Stan had just said the most absurd thing he had ever said. “No! It stands for BAD. Bad, Stan! B. A. D. Bad!”

“B doesn’t stand for Bad…” Stan would state. “F stands for bad.”

“Bad doesn’t start with a F, Stan!” Kyle would scream, frustrated. “B stands for Bad, Bummer, Buffoon- think of a word that starts with a B- nine times out of ten it’s a negative connotation! It’s the most obvious thing in the world!”

“I know that YOU’D be happy to get a B- but I’m perfectly valid in being upset about it! God!”

Ouch.

The air in the room was tense; and the silence that came after Kyle’s groan didn’t really help that. They’d stare at each other for a solid minute, waiting for the other one to say something. In that moment of stillness, Kyle had to opportunity to realize how mean what he said just sounded. In that moment, Kyle would brace for impact. He expected Stan to scream at him- or storm out the door and never come back. But…Stan didn’t do any of that.

Stan would take a deep breath. A long one. “…Okay.” He’d say, breaking the silence. “You need to chill out.” Kyle would open his mouth to apologize or, at the very least, give Stan a verbal agreement- but Stan would quickly cut him off.

“You broke Baseball Rules.”

Kyle’s eyes would widen. Shit. No. No- he didn’t. Did he? Oh god. No- he definitely did. Fuck! “…Y-You didn’t tell me we were playing Baseball Rules.” Kyle would hold his hands up in defense, backing up slightly.

“I don’t have to tell you when we’re playing Baseball Rules. That’s the whole point- we don’t have to repeat the rules, they’re just in place.” Stan would remind, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. “You said three really fucked up things about me. Three strikes. You’re out. You broke Baseball Rules.”

Baseball Rules was a game created by Stan, a game that Kyle reluctantly participated in. The rules were simple, whenever the two were in an a little tiff, if either of them slung three insults in a row, they’d strike out.

Stan made the game in order to prevent the two from blowing up at each other, and it worked pretty well! But, admittedly, Baseball Rules wouldn’t be half as effective if it weren’t for what came after you struck out. That worked like a charm every single time.

“Stan, wait…” Kyle would try to reason, glancing behind him quickly to try to get an idea of how far he was from the door. Maybe he could run if he tried hard enough? “I’m sorry, dude…I don’t think you’re stupid, really-“

“I know you don’t!” Stan would cut Kyle’s apologizes short, stepping forward with the attempt of cornering him. “I’m not mad at you! But…rules are rules! If I let you get away with it this time- where do I draw the line, ya’ know? I’m sure you understand.”

Kyle would yelp at Stan stepping forward, quickly turning himself around to dash around him. “Just this once! I’m really sorry- I won’t do it again! I’m not upset anymore-“

“That’s great!” Stan would exclaim. “I’m glad you’re not upset anymore! But it’s the principle of Baseball Rules. I really wish I didn’t have to! I wanna let you off easy, really!” He didn’t. He knew he didn’t, Kyle knew that too. Just like how Stan knew Kyle well enough to know that he’d try to run around him; that’s why he’d turn as well, cornering Kyle officially.

“Stahahan!” Kyle would stumble backwards, his legs hitting his bed. He’d sink to the floor, already beginning to kick his legs. “It’s just a made up gahahame! Plehehease!”

“I’m not even touching you yet!” Stan would tease, wiggling his fingers right above Kyle’s hips. “I’ll go easy, okay?” He’d sink down right after him, sitting down in front of him.

“Noho! Nohot okahay! DohohOHOHON’T-“

“Don’t tickle your ears or your neck. I know, I know!” Stan would cut Kyle’s desperate pleas short, abruptly beginning to drill his fingers into his hips. “You’d think I’d know how to tickle my Super Best Friend. I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t! You cut me deep, Kyle.”

“That’s nohot-!” Kyle would shake his head, cutting himself off as he started to impulsively swing his arms in defense. Kyle was way too ticklish as it was, but Stan’s constant teasing was making it a thousand times worse.

“I knowww, that’s not what you were going to say. You were going to ask me not to tickle you, and…” Stan couldn’t keep the shit eating grin off of his face. “…you know I’m not gonna do that.” He’d laugh, fighting back the urge to make fun of how red Kyle’s face was.

“Stohohop ihihit! Plehehease, I’m sohohorry!” Kyle wouldn’t even last ten seconds before pleading for mercy. That was one of Stan’s favorite things about playing Baseball Rules, besides being able to hear Kyle’s laugh. That was always first on the list.

“I know you’re sorry! I forgive you!” He’d reassure, managing to dodge every punch Kyle threw at him. “Let’s do this, okay? You let me get a few words out, and then I’ll let you go, okay? I’ll stop tickling you once I’m done.”

Kyle wasn’t 100% sure how legit that offer was. Normally, Stan would stop when he wanted to- so it really depended on how merciful he was feeling on that day. For all Kyle knew, Stan could just say sike and keep going. But…at the same time, maybe he wouldn’t. If anything, he might as well take the bait.

“Okahahay okahahay!”

“Okay? Great!” Stan would smile, moving his hands from his hips to his sides, squeezing them as he began speaking. “I get that you like getting A’s. That makes sense- everyone likes getting them. But it’s okay to not get them sometimes. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself out about your grades, you’re doing an awesome job with them.”

“Buhut-“ Kyle would start, just to be cut off by Stan suddenly skittering his fingers against his ribs. “SHIHihihit!! Ohoh my goHOHOhod! Dohohon’t doHOHO thahahat!!” Kyle would squeal loudly, his eyes flying open as his kicking and punching intensified.

“I’m not done yet!” Stan would sing-song, poking in between each rib for each syllable. The shit-eating grin on his face would only grow as he continued. “As I was saying; you’re doing awesome, dude! I’m not saying you shouldn’t focus on your grades- i’m saying you shouldn’t stress yourself out about them.” Stan would clarify.

“Your grades don’t determine how smart you are. And, either way, you have some kick ass grades, dude! You are the smartest person I know, Kyle-“

“Thahahat’s nohohot trUHUHUE- OHOH MY GOHOHOD- FUHUHUCK OHohohoff!!”

Stan would jokingly roll his eyes at Kyle’s cackling, shaking his head softly. “I’m barely even touching you!” That was true, all he was doing was fluttering his fingers over his stomach. Of course, he knew how effective that was- he just chose to play dumb. ‘Made things more fun!

“It is so true.” Stan would insist, his tone genuine and honest. “…And if you even try to tell me I know Wendy, I’m gonna roll up your jacket. Don’t fuck with me.” He’d playfully threaten. “Wendy doesn’t count. Wendy- Wendy is different. That’s the thing- you guys are both smart. And we’re allowed to have two smart people in South Park. With the amount of morons we have- god knows we could use ‘em.”

“Kyle, I wouldn’t be calling you smart if you weren’t. You are so smart, dude! You know fucking Pig Latin! Do you know anyone else who knows Pig Latin?”

“YOHOHOU!” Kyle would retort, doubling over with laughter. “YOHohohou knohohow pihig lahatin tohohohoo!” He’d would swing at Stan’s face yet again, not expecting it to horrible backfire like it did. Stan would take the swing as an opportunity to snake his hands under his arms, quickly skittering his nails all over his armpits.

“Because you taught me it, Kyle!” Stan would exclaim, having to hold back his own laughter as Kyle shrieked. “You ran right into my point! You make me smarter! I would be a total moron if it weren’t for you! Do you know the amount of times I’m stuck on something and I think to myself, “What would Kyle do?” You’re a genius, dude!”

Maybe it was the fact that he was laughing so hard, or maybe it was the surplus of compliments Stan was dumping onto him. But, either way, Kyle was bright red; practically screaming with laughter as he tried to sink himself into the floor. An effort that was obviously in vain. His arms were slammed tightly down against Stan’s fingers in an effort to protect himself; of course, not even realizing until after the fact that it was having to opposite effect.

“S-STAHAHAHAHAN!”

“Okay, okay I’m almost done!” Stan would quickly say, yanking his hands out from under Kyle’s arms; moving them back to his stomach, lightly skittering his fingers again. “All of this is to say- you’re being too hard on yourself! You are more than a grade you get on a test- putting aside the fact that a B is already a good grade!

“And- you know what? B doesn’t stand for Bad!”

And with that, Stan would still his fingers. The two of them would sit there, Kyle immediately noticing how Stan didn’t seem to be making any attempt of getting up. He’d still be giggling from the aftermath, eyeing Stan up and down expectingly.

“…One more thing.”

Of fucking course!

“…What does B stand for, Kyle?”

Oh shit. Shit. He was fucked. The truth of the matter was Kyle had no clue. It obviously wasn’t Bad. But…he didn’t really know what answer Stan wanted from him. From the expectant look on Stan’s face, he obviously already had an answer in mind. Kyle would think long and hard, searching every crevice of his brain in the hopes that somehow, someway, the answer would magically come to him.

“…Beheheautiful?”

“Ohhh…that’s a good one..” Stan would say in mock amazement, beginning to turn; as if he was about to get up. Kyle would let out a sigh of relief, thanking the universe for sparing him this time. The funny thing about that, though? He wasn’t. Stan would swiftly turn back around, making a buzzer noise to signify that Kyle had gotten the wrong answer before blowing a quick raspberry on his neck.

It all happened so fast, Kyle didn’t even have time to say anything- the only thing that left his mouth was a screech; jolting so hard that he yanked himself away from Stan, falling onto his side. He’d quickly scrunch his neck, along with covering it with his hands.

Kyle was too busy giggling on the floor to realize that Stan had gotten up, walked back over to Kyle’s backpack, and came back with his water bottle. He’d sit next to him, offering his hand to help him up. Kyle would hesitantly take it, a relieved sigh escaping him as Stan pulled him up- no strings attached.

“Broflovski.”

“Whahahat?”

Kyle would raise his eyebrow with giggly confusion. Stan had never referred to him by his last name. They were strictly on a first name basis! Stan would return the confused look with his own confused look. After a few seconds, his eyes would widen as he realized why Kyle looked so confused. He’d shake his head, beginning to chuckle softly.

“Noho! Broflovski! B is for Broflovski!”

It would take a second for Kyle to understand what Stan was saying. Once it clicked, Kyle would turn to Stan, a fed-up smile on his face. God, he was cheesy. He’d hold out his hand as Stan gave him his water bottle, glancing at him again before rolling his eyes and taking a sip.

“What? You don’t like it?” Stan would tease, elbowing him as soon as he closed the cap to his water bottle. “It makes sense! I thought it was funny! Broflovski! It starts with a B- and it’s your last name! Get it?” Stan would repeat, his eyes bright with excitement.

“The more you repeat it the less funny it gets.” Kyle would jokingly groan in annoyance, even scooting a little further away from him! For bit purposes! Stan would scoot right after him, the giddy smile still on his face.

“…Can I tell you something?”

“If it’s B for Broflovski again, I’m gonna hit you.” “It’s not! It’s not.” Stan would say, the smile on his face never wavering. Kyle couldn’t help but smile with him, ushering him to continue with what he was going to say.

“I’d take a Broflovski for life over an A on a test any day.”

Maybe it was stupid for Kyle to be as grateful as he was for Stan. He knew he had a bit of a temper when it came to things like this- and he knew he could be a huge handful at times. But, for reason, Stan stuck by him. Maybe he was bored? Maybe he had nothing better to do, no one better to be with?

But when Kyle looked at the pure happiness on Stan’s face, he couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the case. It made him happy, knowing that Stan enjoyed his company just as much as he enjoyed his- even when he was being dramatic. They were Super Best Friends through thick or thin, no matter the circumstance. That felt…nice.

“Thanks, Stan…that means a lot.”