Chapter Text
Mediolanum Forum - Italy, 2026
“Stop biting your nails,” Seokjin scolds.
On a normal day, Yoonji would be able to think of a retort off the top of her head—something witty and slightly scathing, enough to make Seokjin pout, but not enough to actually hurt him. But right now, her brain has run straight out of words, straight out of anything except this constant buzzing, running like an engine left whirring for too long.
“Seriously Yoonji,” Seokjin says. “Stop it.”
“I’m trying,” Yoonji hisses back. She curls her hands into fists, feels the overwhelming urge to pick at her fingers run through her, and then uncurls them again, using her index finger to scrape at the skin beside her thumb. There’s a tiny bit of loose skin there, edges jagged from where she’d been biting it earlier, and Yoonji scratches at it, thinks fuck it, and lifts her thumb to her mouth to bite it off.
“Yoonji,” Seokjin says, exasperated. “God, just—” all of a sudden she’s being turned bodily towards Seokjin, his hands gripping her wrists and holding them down. “Relax, okay?”
Yoonji shakes her head. “I can’t,” she tells him. There’s no possible way for her to relax, not while they’re waiting for their turn to take the ice. In front of them, the Germans execute a gorgeous sequence—a series of spins that gives way into a lift—and it serves to make Yoonji feel more nauseous, her heart hammering wildly in her throat.
She’s never been this nervous before a performance before. But then again, there’s never been a performance this nerve-wracking before—their closest shot to the Olympic gold she’s been dreaming of for years. Yoonji wants to scream, wants to throw up, wants to run laps around the arena just to expend all her energy.
“You’re okay,” Seokjin tells her, because he understands what she doesn’t say, because he’s on the same page as she is. “Just take a few breaths for me, okay? Come on. Inhale, exhale, let’s go.”
Yoonji nods and does as she’s told, times her breaths to the speed of Seokjin’s. “You’re okay,” Seokjin says again, and his hands move lower to gently uncurl Yoonji’s fists, slot his fingers in between hers.
Yoonji knows he’s also on edge—he’s been blinking quite a bit for quite some time now—but he’s always been better at pretending than she is. It’s the exact same reason why all the interviewers adore him; Yoonji has the tendency to be silent and moody whereas Seokjin is a media darling, impeccably polite and charmingly funny.
Also, he’s incredibly handsome. Yoonji’s pretty sure that plays a part in that too.
“You’re not breathing,” Seokjin says lightly. Yoonji levels a glare at him and pointedly takes a few lungfuls of air.
Right now, there’s nothing she wants more than to close her eyes and wake up in their bedroom, Seokjin’s fingers drawing shapes against her skin as he quietly reads beside her. To curl into him and press her ear against his chest, listen to the sound of Seokjin’s heartbeat, steady and sure. She’s found recently that it’s grown to be her favorite sound—something about it always manages to calm her down.
“Yoonji,” Seokjin says, a reminder, and Yoonji obediently takes another gulp of air.
They’re the last to perform for the free skate—their rhythm dance score rocketed them all the way to the top of the leaderboard, a 0.9 lead from the second place. Now it’s only a matter of holding onto that lead, to skate better than everyone else so they can cinch that gold.
They’re so close. Yoonji can almost taste it.
The Germans execute their last complex lift, finishing with a flourish. There’s a moment of silence and before the audience roars, getting to their feet as they applaud. Yoonji tenses, her heart caught in her throat. They only have to announce the scores, and then it’s their turn to take the ice.
Seokjin sighs. “Hey,” he says gently, and then all of a sudden Yoonji is being pulled closer, her body flush against Seokjin’s. Yoonji leans into the hug, relishing in the feeling of Seokjin’s arms around her, her face turned to the side so as not to smear her make-up on Seokjin’s costume.
“You know,” she says, “I don’t think you crushing me like this is beneficial in your crusade to help me breathe.”
She feels Seokjin’s laugh against her. “The hug is for me,” he tells her. “Why, am I not allowed to want things anymore?”
Yoonji does her best to shake her head. “This is a give-and-take relationship,” she replies. “Which means that you keep giving, and I keep taking.”
Seokjin sighs. “Damn,” he says, then he’s pulling away, his hands coming up to cup Yoonji’s face. His expression is bright, the curve of his mouth soft “Hey, listen. We can do this. We’ve been preparing for this our whole lives.”
“I know,” Yoonji says. “It’s just—we’re so close—”
“We are,” Seokjin agrees. “And all we have to do now is get out there and do our absolute best. Just enjoy the moment. Everything else will follow.”
Yoonji nods, letting herself take another deep breath. In the distant part of her mind, she hears the Germans’ scores being announced, followed by wild applause—they’re in first place, she thinks a little dazedly, feeling her nerves wash over her all over again.
Seokjin’s eyes soften, and then he’s leaning in, brushing a feather-light kiss against her lips. “Trust me, Yoonji,” he says. “We got this.”
The conviction in his voice is so strong that Yoonji can’t do anything else but let herself trust him, let herself believe it. “Okay,” she says, taking another deep breath, holding it in her lungs before letting it out. “Okay.”
Seokjin’s lips curve up slowly, his eyes searching her face for any remaining hint of doubt. “I glove you,” he tells her like he always does, his voice earnest as anything. Yoonji feels a sense of peace wash over, resolve hardening like steel in her gut, and when they take the ice, the smile on her face is genuine.
. . .
They skate like their lives depend on it. Their feet don’t falter, don’t break. Their steps are steady, their movements in sync—every step Yoonji makes Seokjin is right there beside her, every lift she prepares for Seokjin is right there to catch her. They have a flawless run, a flawless performance, and when the music ends, Yoonji can only think, we fucking did it.
And then the applause is thunderous, the cheers even louder, and something like pure euphoria washes over her as she straightens up, wrapping Seokjin in a tight hug. Seokjin holds her, breathes her in—his hand on the back of her head, his nose buried in the junction between her shoulder and neck. When they pull away a few moments later, she finds the same ear-splitting grin on his face, the same overwhelming happiness in his eyes.
They join hands and they bow. Turn to the other side, bow again. Seokjin’s grip is tight in hers. Yoonji never wants to let go.
They skate off the ice hand in hand, still in disbelief. A whirlwind of hugs, handshakes, and congratulations then they’re seated at the kiss and cry, waiting for their score to be announced.
It’s a moment where neither of them speak, Seokjin’s grip still tight in hers. And then the announcer is reading out their score are read out— 133.65, which brings their total score up to a 222.75, which means they have a 2-point lead from the Germans, which means—
Yoonji’s eyes blow wide, and she’s on her feet without realizing it. Beside her, Seokjin lets out an exultant laugh, the sound disbelieving. He’s on his feet too—jumped up in one swift movement once they’d tallied the scores, and when Yoonji turns to look at him, she finds him already looking back.
It’s a simple fact of nature—the way they collide, the way they fall into each other. Yoonji holds Seokjin’s face in her hand and kisses him with all that she has, every overwhelming emotion pouring out from inside her. Coach Bang lets out a surprised laugh, and the audience around them cheers louder, but none of that matters to her—not when Seokjin grips her tighter, pulls her closer; not when she can feel Seokjin’s smile against her lips, sweeter than victory.
They did it.
. . .
Seokjin’s always been a little bit of a mama’s boy, so his parents are the ones Yoonji sees first when they head backstage while the podium gets set up for the awarding. Seokjin’s mother pulls him into a tight hug immediately, her eyes watering with pride, while Seokjin’s father looks on at them, less emotional but no less proud.
“Oh, my son,” She hears Seokjin’s mother whisper to him fiercely. “You did so, so well.”
Seokjin, ever polite, just whispers back, “Thank you, eomma,” before he pulls away, going over to speak to his father.
“Yoonji, dear.” Yoonji tries not to startle too much when Seokjin’s mother calls her name. She knows both of Seokjin’s parents, of course—there’s no way she doesn’t, especially after knowing Seokjin for as long as she has—but ever since she and Seokjin started dating, she’s felt a little more reserved around them, this weird need to impress washing over her. Seokjin always tells her she shouldn’t be, and that she’s overthinking it— they already know you and they love you, he always says with a dismissive wave of his hand, but Yoonji can’t help it. She just wants to show them that she’s a good match for Seokjin.
When Yoonji turns to look, she finds Seokjin’s mother staring at her, a kind smile on her face. “You were spectacular too,” she says, pulling Yoonji into a hug. “When you and Seokjin started skating, I honestly never thought you’d get this far.”
Yoonji can feel herself getting a little embarrassed. “I mean, if I’m being completely honest, neither did I,” she confesses, a shy grin taking over her face. “At the time, the Olympic gold was just some far off pipe dream.”
“But you did it.” Seokjin’s mother is as lovely as he is, the resemblance to him striking in the way she smiles. She hesitates, then reaches out to cup Yoonji’s face. “I’m incredibly proud of you, too.”
Yoonji’s own parents are next, waiting patiently a few meters away, ready to offer up their congratulations. Yoonji feels happy tears spill down her cheeks when she lays eyes on her mom’s expression, lit up and grinning widely.
She spends about five minutes just hugging her mom, crying into her shirt. Her mom presses a kiss on her head, whispers, “I’m so, so proud of you,” her voice thick with emotion. “You finally did it.”
When she pulls away, she throws her arms around her dad. Her dad laughs, hugging her tight and she feels a little like she’s five years old again.
Beside her, she sees her mom pull Seokjin into a hug, offering her congratulations. Seokjin laughs, all bashful at the attention, his ears flushing red.
There’s something strange glimmering in her mom’s eye—like she’s privy to something no one else knows. She whispers something in Seokjin’s ear, the movement of her mouth too small for Yoonji to catch the words, but whatever she says makes Seokjin flush redder, and he shakes his head, laughing.
And it’s heartwarming, the way everything worked out, the way everything fell into place. She watches their families merge: watches as Seokjin’s mother links her arm with her mom, beginning to gossip like school girls; watches as her dad invites Seokjin’s father for a day of golf. It’s almost as if they’re a unit now—one large, extended family, brought together by their two children with a shared love of the same sport. Yoonji watches them, and feels herself glow.
Seokjin nudges her. “What are you thinking?” He murmurs.
Yoonji shakes her head. “Nothing,” she tells him. “I’m just happy.”
. . .
“Hiiiii,” Taehyung says when they pick up the phone, his face occupying the whole screen. He shifts, adjusts the angle of the camera; when he moves back a little, Yoonji can see a baby seated on his lap, a pink little bow on her head and staring curiously at the camera. “Look, Da-Eun! Say hi! Hi, uncle Seokjin and auntie Yoonji!”
Da-Eun just blinks, confused, and proceeds to stuff a chubby little fist into her mouth.
“Aw,” Seokjin says. “She’s so sweet.”
Taehyung gently picks up her other hand, manually waving it at the camera. “Hi!” He says, pitching his voice higher, and it makes Da-Eun smile around her fist, dimples digging into her cheeks. “My name is Da-Eun!”
“Kim Taehyung, you better not be pimping my baby out for views again ,” Yoonji hears Hoseok say from off-camera. A few seconds later and he pops up on the screen, squinting suspiciously. His face relaxes when he spots who it is. “Oh! Noona! Hyung!”
Yoonji laughs. “Hi, Hobi!”
“Congratulations!” Hoseok’s grin is wide and infectious. “We watched the whole thing live from here and your skate was absolutely stunning. Had us gasping in the living room like—” he puts two hands on his chest, gasps to demonstrate; beside him Da-Eun looks up at him and giggles, incredibly taken by her dad’s antics. “Seriously! I think Namjoo even cried.”
“She definitely cried,” Taehyung volunteers. “She heard the chords to Trivia: Love and immediately started tearing up. Said she never expected to hear it in something as big as the Olympics.”
Yoonji rolls her eyes fondly. “What is she talking about, of course it was going to play here,” she replies. “She knew it was going to be a part of our routine. I specifically asked her if we could use it.”
“Yeah, but I guess it just really hit her then,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “I mean, you put her in next to some of the greats. Her song next to Tablo and Epik High as a representation of Korean Hip Hop. She got all emotional about that.”
“Well, that’s what she gets for writing such great songs,” Seokjin deadpans. “If she wrote shittier songs, we wouldn’t have used one at all.”
Hoseok gasps, covering Da-Eun’s ears. “Don’t swear in front of Da-Eun!”
“Poopier songs,” Seokjin amends. “Sorry, Da-Eun.”
“Is that oppa?” Yoonji hears someone ask, and then two more familiar faces pop up on screen—Namjoo and Jungsook. “Oh,” Namjoo says, gasping when she spots them. “Seokjin-oppa! Yoonji-unnie! Congratulations on your gold!”
“Abloo,” Da-Eun babbles, raising both her arms towards Namjoo. The timing of it makes it sound like she’s congratulating them too, even though Yoonji knows she’s probably just asking to be picked up.
Namjoo pays no attention to her. “Seriously, you guys were amazing,” she says, her eyes bright. “Like, you’ve always been good but this routine was another level, really.”
“I cried watching you,” Jungsook volunteers.
Yoonji can feel her face grow warm. “Thanks, guys,” she says, leaning towards Seokjin. “It was—you know—I mean—”
“What Yoonji means to say,” Seokjin cuts in, “is that we sincerely appreciate your support and we love and miss you all.”
Yoonji elbows him. “Way to make it sound like a press statement.”
“What?” Seokjin asks, affecting an affronted tone. “What’s wrong with me practicing for our interviews?”
“Abloo,” Da-Eun says again, arms still outstretched. This time Namjoo notices; picks her up from Taehyung’s lap and blows a raspberry on her chubby cheek, making her squeal.
“We definitely have to see each other when you guys get back,” Jungsook says, bending over to rest her chin on Taehyung’s shoulder. “We have so much to celebrate.”
Yoonji can feel her smile threatening to take over her face. “Just tell us when and we’ll be there.”
“It’ll be a triple celebration,” Namjoo says, a little distracted as she bounces Da-Eun on her hip. Jimin’s bronze and your gold, as well as your en—”
“Namjoo,” Seokjin suddenly interrupts. There’s a slight warning in his tone.
Namjoo looks up. “What?” She asks, a furrow in her brow. She seems to read something in his face, however, because her expression goes slack. “Oh. Oh. I mean…absolutely nothing, that’s all.”
Yoonji feels like she’s missed something. “What?” She asks. “What’s going on?”
It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, nothing,” he says, and he’s obviously trying to hold back his laughter. “It’s nothing.”
Yoonji narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me you’re expecting another baby again.”
Hoseok makes a face. “God, no. Not yet, at least. Still sticking to this one for now.” He turns to Da-Eun, and Yoonji watches as his expression softens at the sight of her. “Aw, c’mon baby girl. Come to appa.”
Da-Eun squeals, delighted at the attention. “Appa,” she echoes, and allows herself to be passed to her favorite parent.
Taehyung laughs. “Anyway, we’ll hang up now,” he says, waving goodbye. His expression’s changed—his smile now seems a touch more smug than it used to be. “Bye, noona, bye hyung! Congratulations again!”
“Bye, guys,” Seokjin says, smiling. “We’ll call you guys again later!” And then there’s a few more seconds of smiling, before the screen goes dark.
Yoonji turns to Seokjin, an eyebrow raised, who’s decidedly not looking at her. “What was that all about?” She asks.
Seokjin shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing,” he says, far too quickly that it sounds suspicious. He’s obviously hiding something; the tone of his voice is light, but his ears have started to turn red again. “Let’s go and congratulate the other athletes, yeah?”
Yoonji squints at him suspiciously, but eventually decides to let go.
. . .
She’s not entirely sure how it happens; one minute they’re surrounded by so many people—coaches and athletes and backstage personnel, and the next they’re alone in their dressing room, the shut door muting all the commotion outside. Yoonji collapses on the nearest couch, spent; she’s already exhausted and they haven’t even gotten their medals yet.
They’ve got about five minutes until they need to head to the podium. Yoonji intends to make full use of the time.
“Budge over,” Seokjin says, sounding just as exhausted, and Yoonji groans, shifting to one edge of the couch so Seokjin has enough space to sit. Except Seokjin doesn’t, not really—he throws himself bodily on the couch, wriggling around until he’s got his head on Yoonji’s lap.
Yoonji groans again. “Can’t you sit down like a normal person?” she complains, even as her left hand falls to rest on Seokjin’s head, carding through his hair. “You’re like a leech, seriously.”
“No,” Seokjin says, his eyes slipping shut as he snuggling into her further. “This is who I am, Yoonji. You better accept it.”
Yoonji makes a face. “I want a refund,” she says.
She feels Seokjin shake his head. “No take-backsies, remember?”
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have agreed to that,” she mutters, but the fond smile growing in her face belies her words. It’s a moot point anyway; it’s been years since they’d agreed to try their hand at dating, and Yoonji’s long come to terms with the fact that she’d be stuck with Seokjin—all his clingy habits and all. But she isn’t complaining, because they’re better together than they were when they were just friends, because being with Seokjin just feels right . Because she gets to wake up next to Seokjin everyday, gets to kiss him and hold his hand and look at his face and feel stupid amounts of love pour out from inside her.
She’s looking at him now.
One of Seokjin’s eyes pop open. “You’re staring at me,” he observes, his tone lazy. One of his hands reaches up to try and hold Yoonji’s; Yoonji lets him search fruitlessly for a few moments before she eventually gives in, allowing Seokjin to catch her hand.
“Just wondering if I can put you back in the market,” she replies. “Now that I’ve gotten my Olympic gold, I have no more use for you.”
Seokjin pouts. “Hey,” he says. “I have other uses, too.”
“Oh, really?” She teases. “Like what?”
“I’m handsome for one,” Seokjin says. His eyes have fallen shut again, and he’s playing with her fingers, tugging at them gently.
“That’s not a use.”
“It’s an aesthetic use. You look at my face and all your problems disappear.”
“Mm, I think your face is the cause of all my problems.”
“That’s understandable too,” Seokjin says dismissively. “After all, how are you meant to resist my roguish charms?”
Yoonji flicks him on the forehead lightly. Seokjin makes an affronted noise but doesn’t open his eyes, a strange tilt to his mouth.
“Anything else?” She asks dryly.
Seokjin hums in thought. “I’m a great cook,” he says decisively. “Practically Michelin star level.”
“Yeah? According to who?”
“Me.” Seokjin shrugs. “Admit it Yoonji, you love my cooking.”
“I will admit no such thing,” Yoonji says, even though privately she thinks that there’s hardly anything she loves more than Seokjin cooking for her, whether it’s simple eggs in the morning or a full spread of dishes for dinner.
Seokjin ignores her. “And,” he says, and here, the tone of his voice changes, something like a nervousness seeping into his tone. He shifts, a little then falls still, still keeping his eyes shut. There’s a slight tension to the set of his jaw. His hand has slowed in its movement, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of Yoonji’s hand.
“I think,” he begins slowly, “I’d make a great husband.”
Yoonji’s brow furrows, and she’s just about to open her mouth and ask what Seokjin’s talking about when she feels it—the brush of his thumb against her knuckles, the slow slide of something metal onto her ring finger.
And—oh. Oh.
“I glove you,” Seokjin says. His eyes are still closed, but there’s something tugging at the corner of his lips, a knowing smile just waiting to break free. Yoonji’s eyes are wide, and they dart from Seokjin’s face to where their hands are joined, something silver and glinting on her left hand.
When she looks back, she finds both his eyes open, staring straight at her. “Wanna legally be my forever girl?” He asks.
And that’s. Yoonji rolls her eyes fondly, leans down; kisses him in response.
. . .
Min Yoonji, Kim Seokjin win Olympic ice dancing gold
South Korea’s favorite figure skating sweethearts Min Yoonji and Kim Seokjin took home ice dancing gold at the 2026 Winter Olympics in Italy.
Performing to a medley featuring songs from Korean Hip Hop legends such as Tablo, Epik High, and Dynamic Duo, the pair captured the gold medal in the Mediolanum Forum with a total score of 222.75, a career best for them.
This is not their first Olympic circuit; previously they finished 4th at the 2022 Beijing Olympics and 16th at the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics. They’ve captured the world’s hearts with their incredible skills and their undeniable chemistry, and it’s clear that as time goes by, they only get better and better.
“Amazing. It’s an incredible moment for us,” Kim Seokjin said following their win. “The performance was truly very special and memorable to us. The gold medal is the cherry on top of the cake; I think that I’m just glad that I get to experience all this with my best friend.”
Interestingly, Min Yoonji turned up to the podium and to the press conference wearing a ring on her left hand. Could there be wedding bells for these two in the near future?
. . .
(“What are you thinking about?” Yoonji asked. It had been late in the evening—the clock on the dashboard reading 1:17 am , and she and Seokjin were sitting in her father’s car, parked in front of the ice rink.
It was her idea to sneak out. They’re headed to Osaka tomorrow, to compete at the World Junior Figure Skating Championship and she couldn’t sleep, her brain whirring with both nervousness and excitement. Seokjin protested when she told him about her plan, discouraged her from borrowing her father’s car, but he still tumbled straight out of bed to meet her, getting into the passenger with barely a word of complaint.
It had been late in the evening, and there they were, staring up at the facade of their ice rink, their home; the place they’ve spilled blood, sweat and tears in.
Seokjin’s eyes flashed, teasing as he turned to look at her. “You,” he said.
Yoonji rolled her eyes. “That was a serious question.”
“And that was a serious answer.”
There was a lull in the conversation, only the quiet hum of the engine punctuating their silence. Yoonji kept silent, unsure of what she’s looking for, of what she’s waiting for.
Eventually, Seokjin spoke again. “We’re going to Juniors tomorrow, Yoonji.”
“We are.”
“And you know, I just thought,” Seokjin puffed out his cheeks, blew out a breath as he thought. “Like, I just thought it would be nice. If we skated together forever.”
It would’ve been easy to dismiss it as an impossible fantasy—a product of their overtired minds, unable to shut down. But something about the way Seokjin said it made Yoonji’s breath hitch. “Forever’s a…long time,” she said as steadily as she could manage.
“I’m aware.” Seokjin’s voice was dry, but there was no hint of humor on his face. “I want to do it still.
And then something like a giddy anticipation unfurled, rolled over them like a heatwave. Yoonji didn’t look away from Seokjin, felt a little like they’d been frozen in time—like this moment was something so much bigger than the both of them.
“Then let’s,” she said, the words falling from her lips before she can even really think about it. “Skate together forever, I mean. We’ll skate together until we get that Olympic gold, and we’ll skate together even after that.”
Seokjin’s eyes glittered beneath the pale moonlight. “Yeah?” He asked. “You mean that?”
Yoonji met his eye, nodded once. “I do,” she said.
For a moment, Seokjin didn’t speak—just kept staring at her, eyes clear. Then, he shrugged. “Alright,” he said easily. “We’ll skate together forever, then.”
“We will,” Yoonji affirmed, the word underscored by the sudden thump of heart.
“Yeah,” Seokjin said. Then the corners of his mouth quirked up into a small, private smile. “You can be my forever girl.”)