#pairs skating

[fsmilanocortina]

三浦 璃来/木原 龍一 Riku Miura/Ryuichi Kihara (JPN)

2026 Olympic Winter Games Free Skate (158.13, WR)

[sugar-petals]

✨ figure skating tweets because i feel the post-olympic depression coming ✨

men’s event version

[marthajefferson]

KIHARA RYUICHI & MIURA RIKU delivered Japan's first Olympic gold medal in pairs skating, Milano Cortina 2026

[suuho]

KIHARA RYUICHI & MIURA RIKU skate the free skate world record and win olympic gold

[edgecallskating]

Miura & Kihara's twist goes all the way to the moon, I swear.

[callmeawifeorwhatever5]

I've seen your writing skills they're amazing. It's time that I request a song fic ilia x reader who are pairs skaters and skate to the song 12 to 12 please?

buckle up is all i have to say….

“Is there anything they can’t do…?”

The first time it started, it wasn’t even serious.

That’s what they told themselves.

Weekends. Late nights. Empty ice.

Just messing around.

“You’re gonna drop me.”

“I am not gonna drop you,” Ilia shot back, already setting his hands at her waist.

“You literally hesitated.”

“I adjusted.”

“You hesitated.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jump.”

She did.

And for half a second….just half….she thought she was going to hit the ice.

But then he caught her.

Solid. Easy.

Too easy.

They both stilled.

Closer than they’d ever been in singles. Closer than best friends usually got.

Her hands instinctively braced on his shoulders. His grip tightened just slightly at her waist.

“See?” he said, quieter now. “Didn’t drop you.”

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

Neither of them moved right away.

Then she pushed off, skating backward like nothing happened.

“Again,” she said.

It became a thing.

Late night practices after their own training.

Trying lifts. Messing up throws. Laughing when it went wrong, not laughing when it went right because when it went right, it felt like something else entirely.

Like something they weren’t naming.

One night, she landed a jump clean and slid to a stop, breathless.

“Hey,” she said, grinning, still catching her breath. “There’s a pairs competition in three months.”

He leaned on the boards. “Okay?”

“We should do it. For shits and giggles.”

She laughed.

He didn’t.

“Heck yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

She froze mid movement. “Wait… for real??”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Why not?”

She stared at him for a second.

Then a slow smile spread across her face.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

That’s when it stopped being a joke.

Training got intense.

Bruises. Missed catches. Perfect catches.

His hands learning her balance. Her body learning his timing.

Lifts that used to feel impossible suddenly clicked.

Spins where they moved like they were wired together.

And tension.,,constant, low, simmering tension.

Because they were always touching now.

Always looking at each other.

Always almost saying something.

The night everything snapped wasn’t at the rink.

It was at a club.

Music loud. Lights low. Friends everywhere.

He was at the bar.

She was on the dance floor.

With someone else.

Ilia noticed immediately.

The guy’s hands were too comfortable. Too close.

And she was laughing.

Spinning.

Letting him.

Ilia’s jaw tightened.

Across the room, she saw him.

Saw the way he was staring.

The way his fingers curled around the edge of the bar.

And something in her lit up.

So she pushed it.

Stepped closer to the guy. Let him pull her in.

But her eyes?

Locked on Ilia.

Daring him.

The song shifted…. “12 to 12”

“Maybe I’m delusional and the way you act is usual….” rang through the speakers…

That was it.

Ilia moved.

Crossed the room without hesitation.

Grabbed her wrist…pulled her away from the guy and spun her once into him.

No words.

Just eye contact.

Heavy. Burning.

They started moving together like it was second nature.

Because it was.

She turned, pressing back against him, guiding his hands to her hips.

Finally, she spoke..,breathless, teasing.

“I guess in a room full of people… you really do look for me.”

A small laugh.

Then she turned to face him fully.

“You’re so jealous right now, I can smell it.”

He didn’t answer.

Just looked at her like he wanted to say a hundred things and none of them were safe.

The music changed.

“Pressure” by an artist flooded the room.

And in that exact moment, Ilia’s hand came up gripping her jaw gently but firmly, tilting her face up to his.

His lips hovered close as he mouthed along with the lyrics:

“You got options… you’re a problem.”

She smirked, breath catching. “What are you trying to say, blond boy?”

That was his breaking point.

He kissed her.

Hard.

Like he’d been holding it back for months.

Their lips moved in sync just like their skating, just like their dancing at that exact moment.

Perfect. Effortless. Dangerous.

When he pulled back, his forehead almost touched hers.

“You knew what you were doing,” he said quietly.

Then he walked off the dance floor.

And left her there

Heart racing.

Head spinning.

Completely wrecked.

The next day at practice, she skated up to him like nothing happened.

“You wanna talk about last night?”

“Nah.”

She blinked.

Then laughed. “Okay.”

But nothing was okay.

The next month?

Hell.

Tension in every lift. Every spin. Every glance.

Almost kisses that never happened.

Arguments that meant something else entirely.

But they got better.

Way better.

They moved like they belonged together on the ice.

The only thing missing?

A song.

They took a night to pick one…

The next night, she didn’t say anything.

Just skated to the center, set her speaker down and hit play.

“12 to 12” blasted through the rink.

Ilia groaned. “Are you for real?”

She ignored him.

Started dancing on the ice carefree, dramatic, completely her.

He watched.

Couldn’t not watch.

That look in his eyes…soft, wrecked, completely gone for her. It was impossible to hide.

She skated up to him, stopping just inches away.

“Let’s run it, blondie.”

They did.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

By the third, it was almost flawless.

Ilia exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Okay… yeah. The song? It’s perfect.”

She laughed, skating backward. “Yeah. It describes us… of course it’s perfect.”

She winked.

Then left him standing there.

Again. All he can do is think…

Competition night.

Lights. Crowd. Energy.

The music started.

And everything clicked.

Every lift hit. Every spin centered. Every movement sharp and connected.

They weren’t thinking.

Just feeling.

Together.

When they finished, the crowd was already on their feet.

Third place.

Bronze.

But it felt like more.

Headlines the next day:

‘She’s got her Olympic gold. He has three world titles… now they might take on the pairs world too? Is there anything they can’t do?’

A few weeks later, he walked into the rink.

She was already there.

Music playing….That song again…

Of course.

She turned when she saw him, smiling like nothing had ever been complicated.

“Hey, partner. Wanna run through it?”

He nodded.

They skated.

And it was still there.

That connection.

That tension.

That pull.

At the end, she landed clean, gliding into him.

And before she could even catch her breath….

He kissed her.

Not rushed this time.

Not impulsive.

Certain.

She smiled against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak.

“Oh, so you…”

He pressed a finger to her lips.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, voice low. “You know that.”

Her smile softened.

He shaking his head not stepping away.

“I love you,” he added. “So much.”

She moved his hand fully…

Then kissed him again slow, sure, teasing.

“As you should, blondie.”

He rolled his eyes…but he was smiling.

Then he picked her up effortlessly, spinning her once like it was nothing.

She laughed, leaning into him, whispering against his ear…

“I love you too. And you drive me just as crazy.”

He smiles before saying “i know….”

[geurujam]

— 新年快乐!— 爱你们!

[flipthefreakinswitch]

Bruised and bleeding

-Brayden Elliot x fem!pairskater!reader

Plot: When Brayden gets punched too many times to count by a hockey player, you help clean him up.

Warnings/plot info: pair skaters, bruises, cuts, blood, bloody nose, soft Brayden, only nice to her trope, friends since childhood, touchy w/ one another, hockey players, hockey player harasses reader, pair skaters since childhood, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

a/n: okkkkkkaaaayyyy I hope yall like it 😫🫠🤞 Brayden is sooooooo my man. If there are any mistakes i apologize….

You knew as soon as the hockey walked up to you that there would be an issue. Brayden walked away to get you both drinks, and as soon as he did it was not long until someone had their arm around your shoulder. It was the annual Russo bonfire. You have never been, because you and Brayden had just decided to skate with the infamous team.

“So” the boy starts, dramatically stretching then putting his arm over your shoulders. Looking at him you cannot help but cringe, his beard did not compliment is features, his hair was too long for your liking, and his smug expression gave you the creeps. You move over to make space between you and the boy. “You ice dance, and I play hockey so you know it’s pretty perfect….for us two to you know” he smiles hoping you would catch on to the hint. Of course you catch on, but acting clueless would buy you time until Brayden got back.

Shaking your head you say “no, I don’t know” scooting over more to create distance. He chuckles, bringing his other hand to hold one of yours. Uncomfortable at his actions, you pull your hand away, then knock his arm off your shoulders.

“Oh come on” the boy begs wrapping his arm around you once more. Taking your hands, you push him a little on the chest trying your get him off of you. Your eyes are scanning the bonfire area looking for Brayden. Anxiety bubbles in your stomach the same way it does before a huge competition.

“Um” your breath hitches in your throat, worrying about what to do. The hockey player is the only thing you are focused on now. His breathing, the way his leg bounces, and when it does it hits your own.

“Hey y/n are you okay” Riley asks, pulling you away from your own mind. “Riley, where’s Brayden” your breath was unsteady, scanning the area once more. Riley looks between the two of you, she then reaches down to grab your hand. “Here, I just saw him” she smiles, ushering you towards the drink station as quickly as possible.

“Thanks Riley” you thank, sending a kind smile her way. Your breathing starts to steady, and your hands stop shaking. “No problem, that guy is a total creep. Also….Brayden is not over here, I just said that so you could get away from him” she whispers towards your ear.

Looking over at her your smile becomes even wider, pulling her into a side hug. “Thank you thank you thank you, he was a total creep wasn’t he” Riley lets out a laugh, nodding her head, “a total one.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about Brayden. Are you guys like a thing or really close friends?”

This question will always be a valid one, but you never know how to answer it. You and Brayden are not together, but sometimes it feels like you two are not friends either. Instead there is a spark, a spark that does not go unnoticed.

“Friends, we’ve been partners for years. So, we have the connect-“

Suddenly you are cut off by several gasps, cheers, and applause. “Holy shit is that Brayden” Riley asks already turned around to assess the situation. Turning around you see Brayden punching the hockey boy square in the face.

“It so is”

The hockey player comes back up and slams Brayden back in the face. Then lands a good few punches to his ribs. Cringing every time it happens you find yourself running toward the circle all the people have created around the two fighters. Your jaw is practically on the ground, as you watch them.

Hockey boy punches Brayden in the face causing a bloody nose. Then Brayden throws a fist at the hockey players eye hitting him exactly where he was aiming. “Watch out” Freddie says, gently pushing you to the side.

“Freddie” Riley exclaims next to you. Freddie try’s to separate the two men, but before he even got close enough another hockey player pulls him back. Brayden gets pushed on his back, and the player socks him in the face. Brayden lands a punch to the side of the creep, before a cop car’s lights flash over the area. The hockey player stands, while another yells to run. Everyone around you scatters, leaving you behind with Brayden on the ground. At this particular moment you did not care about the cops, or that stupid hockey player. You cared about him.

Your legs move quickly, kneeling down beside him. “Hey” he chuckles sitting up, blood flowing out of him nose. “Brayden what the hell” you say hitting his shoulder gently. His hands go up to his nose, touching the blood, before pulling his hand back to see the red liquid. “Don’t touch it” your order comes out harsh, and intense.

“I’m fine, y/n” he groans, grabbing ahold on your arm to steady himself. He does not look fine at all. He already has a bruised eye, his nose was bleeding, his jaw is already red, and swelling. A gentle hand comes to touch his face, he winces in pain at your touch. “You don’t look fine” you mention reaching your hand out to help him stand.

“Fuck” he hisses leaning against you for stability, the cop is gone, along with everyone else. So, you two slowly but surely make your way back to the Russo home.

-time skip-

Shutting the bathroom door, you pat the marble counter telling Brayden to hop on. He does not protest, he never does with you. Your eyes meet his, “what happened?”

He takes a deep breath watching as you grab a wash cloth and dampen it with warm water. “It’s nothing” he sniffles, trying to get the blood flow to stop. You stand in between his legs, gently tapping the blood off his face. The both of you are use to this, it is not the first time you had to clean up his cuts. It has been five years of partnership, so, he has definitely run his mouth too many times to count.

He winces, grabbing ahold of your waist. These are the times where you get confused about the relationship between the two of you. He is touchy, and for a long time you figured it was just his thing. However, it turns out that he only holds you in a soft, gentle way. Unfortunately you have witnessed him with other women on total accident, but his touch with them is harsh, needy. You obviously could not see much more, before you quickly got out of the room. So, you always wonder if he turns gentle with time.

“That guy was gross”

His eyes lock with yours, and his hand comes up to move a piece of hair away from your face. Then, his hand goes down to hold your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone gently. Your free hand comes up to move his platinum blonde hair away from his black eye so you can get a good look at it. “Did he make you uncomfortable” he whispers, eyes searching your face. You go back to cleaning off his face, almost done.

“You saw that” you question, sighing from embarrassment. Heat travels up your neck, causing your cheeks to become a bright pink. It is silent for a moment as you place the washcloth down. “Look at me, and stop worrying about my face” Brayden orders, bringing both hands back to your waist. So, you listen, look up at him. “I was going to run up to you as soon as it saw you, but Riley got to you first. But he was still looking at you like you were something he could take, so I punched him.”

“Bray you don’t need to do that, I was fine”

He scoffs, “no you weren’t, I know you better than anyone else. So don’t try to tell me that you were okay.” All you could respond with was a nod because you knew he was right. He was always right when it came to you.

Clearing your throat you gesture for him to take off his shirt. His hands come off of you and you feel a chill. Suddenly everything is cold, your arms have goosebumps, along with your legs. His touch was always hot against your skin. The shirt gets thrown on the floor, his face covered in pain. Your eyes look down, he has a pretty good bruise forming on his right ribs, and one form on his lower abdomen.

“Oh Brayden” you whisper now realizing just how much pain he is currently in. Your hand reaches to graze this blue and purple skin. Brayden’s hand wraps around your wrist wanting to be in control of your touch. “It doesn’t hurt” he claims, trying to make you feel better, but his words don’t help. Of course it hurts, you knew it did, and you felt like it was all your fault.

“I’m sorry”

“Hey don’t be, I’m fine, okay don’t worry about it” he assures “it was my choice to punch the guy, okay?”

Nodding you reply with a simple “okay,” Brayden shifts off the counter. Standing tall in front of you before pulling you into a hug. Your arms naturally move to around his neck, while his find their way to your waist, holding you securely. His hand gently rubs your back in a comforting manner.

“You’re too good to me y/n”

You are quick to shake your head “someone had to care for you.” He chuckles, “yeah, and I’m glad it’s you.” Wrapping his arms tighter, he hold you with care. Wanting to be as close to you as possible.

Although he will never admit it, you keep him stable, content with every crazy problem that has come his way. “Well I need to make sure my partner stays healthy” you joke hugging him tight.

“Do you want to come to my room” he asks, you two often shared a room. It was something that your old coaches made you do. For a while, you two hated one another so, your coaches made you two share rooms at every competition while everyone else got to pick their roommates. After some time you did not mind, and he did not either. Secrets were shared, along with very heavy details.

“Yeah”

As soon as the words are spoken, you both pull away, then walk out of the bathroom. Brayden’s hand is perfectly holding yours when he walks toward his room. Mimi spots you, and you give her a shrug acting like it is totally normal. It was normal. To you. Not to Mimi. So, her jaw drops quickly pulling out her phone to text someone.

Brayden pulls you into his room, securely shutting the door.