𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 彡 [jjk oneshots]

ミ✮ 𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝┆[m. fushiguro]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6316

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which japan's most celebrated figure skating duo have more turmoil outside of the spotlight than any of their fans could ever imagine

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: strong language, figure skating!au, all parties involved are aged up (18+), smut, use of birth control is implied, megumi is a soft dom and i will die on that hill, angst, mention of a drug addiction, enemies to lovers (but it's written poorly), bit of a toxic dynamic

𝐕. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 — not me rewatching yuri on ice and reading about olympics skating drama/scandals. the gossip honestly had me in a chokehold...

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 the arena buzzed with anticipation as the figure skating championship commenced. A vibrant tapestry of flags from various countries draped the walls, fluttering gently in the controlled air. The ice rink gleamed under the bright, strategic lighting, creating a crystalline stage for the athletes.

Spectators filled the seats, their excited murmurs blending into a symphony of expectation. The scent of fresh popcorn mingled with the crisp chill of the ice, adding to the atmosphere of excitement. As the first pair of skaters glided onto the rink, the crowd's applause echoed through the spacious venue, signaling the start of a thrilling competition.

On the outer edge of the rink sat one of the most bewitching up-and-coming athletes of her generation, lacing up her skates with strict precision and speed. The motion had been embedded in her memory by the time she learned to walk. [Y/N] [Y/L/N] had known nothing else other than the ice, proper posture, and the exact calculations in the instances of point deductions for failed movements.

But this was never her dream.

It was her mother's dream and [Y/N] delivered on her promise to become the best in the industry—to return home as an Olympic medalist and nothing less. And this was it; the final stretch. Failure was not an option now. Then again, it never was. Straightening her back, the young woman reached up to smooth her hands along the sides of her hair, still paranoid about the hair spray not holding as it should. And while her immaculate ballerina bun couldn't possibly get any tighter, [Y/N] felt bile rise in her throat which she ultimately decided to swallow with a bitter expression.

With every prolonged breath, the sequins and faux gemstones on her partly sheer, black costume scratched and dug into her frail frame. The skater then heard the unmistakable audible disruption of the crowd's applause and a few whistles after a successful jump combination executed by the delicate blonde woman representing Norway in her trademark emerald green dress. Scoffing not so inconspicuously, [Y/N] crossed her arms over her chest—those manipulative eyes of hers peering out at the judges intently observing the Norwegian skaters' performance and undeniably glimmering star-like presence.

Fucking cheating assholes. Bribing the judges is all they're good for.

Her envious inner monologue was desperate to come up with any excuse as to why other skaters were better than her and her partner. In [Y/N]'s mind no one could rival them—she and her partner were the end all, be all. They were the pride and joy of Japan. They were breakers of the status quo; the youngest pair of skaters in a long while who had already set undeniable records.