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authors note:just finishes watching finding her edge and loved it so I decided to write also saw a post saying that they would like a fanfic so here is something I came up with hope you enjoy !!
Three world medals.
Years of being partners of catching each other mid-spin, trusting the other to be exactly where they needed to be without ever having to look. Ice dancing wasn’t just choreography, it was muscle memory, instinct.
Brayden Elliott was your partner in every sense that mattered on the ice.
Off it… things were different.
Over the years, you’d watched him flirt effortlessly laughing with girls in the rink lobby, brushing snow from their shoulders, as if it were nothing. And it shouldn’t have bothered you. It didn’t have a right to. You were best friends, nothing more. That’s what you told yourself every time you laced your skates a little tighter than necessary, every time your chest felt oddly hollow afterward.there was always something between you two you always doubted it though,
Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him.
It was inevitable, really.
How could you not fall for someone who knew the exact pressure to place on your waist to steady a lift? Who could read the slightest shift in your weight and adjust mid-routine without missing a beat? Someone who had seen you at your worst, blistered feet, shaking legs, tears swallowed backstage and at your best, gliding under bright lights
But Brayden never looked at you the way he looked at them.
With you, he was easy. Comfortable. Safe.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything else.
On the ice, you were perfect together, undeniable, unstoppable. Judges praised your chemistry, commentators whispered about how “connected” you seemed. They didn’t know how much of that connection stayed trapped between the boards, never crossing into real life.
So you smiled. You laughed. You stayed his partner.
Because loving him silently was better than risking losing him at all. You didn't know at all but the way his eyes linger after you when you two get off the ice the way hed hold you a second longer then hed should have
When the invitation came to join Team Russo, you said yes almost immediately.
It took longer to convince Brayden.
Not because he doubted the opportunity Team Russo was legendary, a gathering of some of the most talented ice skaters in the world but because he hated change. You didn’t. Not really. You
knew the Russos. Old friends, old acquaintances from junior circuits and international competitions. Familiar faces, familiar pressure.
“They’re good people,” you’d told him. “Most of them, anyway.”
Eventually, he agreed.
The Russos were exactly how you remembered them. Warm. Professional. Welcome. Mimi especially she hugged you the moment you arrived, chattering excitedly about routines and ice time schedules like no years had passed at all. She made the transition easier, grounding you when everything else felt too sharp, too new.
Others… not so much.Katya made up her mind about you within the first week.She corrected you during warm-ups when you didn’t need it. Comment on your timing just loudly enough for others to hear. Smiled in that way that everyone knew it was fake. It was subtle, calculated, exhausting. You told yourself to ignore it to focus on your edges, your lines, your partner.
But Brayden didn’t notice.
He was too busy flirting with Elise. The way he leaned close when she spoke, the way his grin softened in a way you’d never seen it soften for you or at least the way you saw it It was the worst.
You told yourself you were being dramatic. That this was nothing new. Brayden had always been like this charming, effortless,flirting with out feelings. But something about seeing it here, in a place that already felt unfamiliar and hostile, made it cut deeper.
On the ice, you were still flawless. Your timing never slipped. Your lifts stayed strong. You trusted him with your body the way you always had, even as your heart lagged a beat behind. Off the ice, you felt like an afterthought. Katya’s sharp glances. Elise’s laughter. Brayden’s attention drifted further and further away.You wondered, for the first time in years, whether saying yes to Team Russo had been a mistake or whether it was simply the moment you could no longer pretend that being his partner was enough
Everyone had come back from the small party tired and buzzing, laughter fading down the hallway as doors closed one by one. Soon enough, the place went still, the kind of quiet that only settles in late at night. You stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, routine notes looping through your mind. There was a timing issue in the step sequence you wanted to fix before morning something small, but it mattered. It always did. And Brayden would understand. He always did.
So you made your way down the hall to his room. You didn’t knock.
You opened the door and stopped.
Brayden was there, hands tangled in Elise’s hair, her back pressed against the wall, their mouths already moving like they’d been there for a while. Close. Familiar. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with skating.
For a second, your mind refused to catch up.
“Oh—” Your voice came out smaller than you expected. “Sorry.”
That was all you managed before stepping back, already reaching for the door, already trying to erase yourself from the moment. The air felt too thick, your chest too tight.
In that split second just before the door closed you could have sworn Brayden looked guilty. He pulled back, eyes meeting yours, something sharp and fleeting crossing his face. Surprise, maybe. Or regret. Or something else entirely.
But you told yourself it was nothing. It had to be nothing.
He didn’t owe you anything. You weren’t that girl. You were his partner. His best friend. not the one he kissed in the dark.
So you walked back to your room quietly, barefooted carefully against the floor, and shut the door behind you without making a sound.
You sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after that, staring at the wall, the routine still playing in your head only now every lift felt heavier.Tomorrow, you told yourself, you’d fix the routine.And so you did.
Sleep never came By four in the morning, you gave up pretending and pulled on your jacket instead. The rink was empty when you stepped onto the ice.
The lights were dimmed, the air sharp and clean, the kind of cold that usually cleared your head. You pushed off anyway, muscle memory taking over as your blades carved familiar lines. Again and again, you ran the section of the routine that had been bothering you. You tried to focus on technique your edges, your timing, the placement of your leg.
You kept trying.
And trying.
But your mind wouldn’t stay quiet.
Your landings were sloppy. Your extension fell short. You shook it off and went again, breath coming faster, legs burning. Time slipped by unnoticed, one run-through turning into another, then another until exhaustion dulled the ache in your chest and replaced it with something heavier. Four hours later the sun was coming up.
You slowed to a stop near the boards, hands on your knees, chest heaving. The others were probably awake by now. Probably eating breakfast. Probably laughing about the party, about nothing at all
You decided to grab breakfast, needing some time away from the ice.
“Hey, good morning,” you said as Adriana passed by.
“Hey—missed you at breakfast. Where have you been?” she asked kindly.
“At the rink,” you replied. “Couldn’t get something out of my mind. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I get it. Well,” she lowered her voice, “don’t tell anyone, but there are frozen waffles in the peas.”
She walked away, and you mouthed a silent thank you.
After you ate, you sank into one of the sofas in one of the many rooms scattered throughout the place. A moment later, Brayden walked in.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” you answered.
“Listen, about—” You cut him off gently. “You don’t have to explain. It’s your business,” you said. Breaking the silence “what did you want to tell me last night?"
You couldn’t quite name it, but there was something in his eyes an apology he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. The way he looked at you lingered a second too long, heavy with regret. And just like that, the image flashed through your mind again: him and Elise, tangled together, laughing, kissing. Your chest tightened before you could stop it.
“Um—right, yeah,” you said quickly, forcing your voice steady. “There’s just… something in the routine that needs fixing. That’s all.” You launched into an explanation, hands moving as you talked, pointing out timing issues, footwork, the lift that never quite landed the way it should. You didn’t notice it at first, but he wasn’t listening. Not really.
His eyes stayed on you.
There was something about the way you spoke when you were passionate, how you forgot everything else, how your guard dropped without you realizing it. That was one of the many things he admired about you. You weren’t some girl on the cover of articles, smiling for cameras and pretending success came easy. You worked for everything. You cared. It showed in every word, every sharp breath you took when you got worked up.
“Hey,” he said suddenly.
You stopped mid-sentence. “What?”
“You don’t have to do this right now.”
“Do what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.
“This,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Pretend like everything’s normal.”
That did it. You laughed once, short and humorless. “I’m not pretending. I’m talking about the routine. You know the thing we’re actually supposed to be focused on?”
He stood up straighter. “You’re deflecting.”
“Oh, please,” you said, heat rising fast. “Don’t act like you get to psychoanalyze me now.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable.
“You saw us,” he said quietly.
Your stomach dropped. “yeah,” you shot back. “ and ?.”
“ i want to explain”
“Don’t,” you interrupted, voice breaking despite your best effort. “Don’t explain. You already tried earlier, remember? I said it was your business.”
“And you didn’t mean it,” he said.
You looked away, jaw clenched.” yes i did” “ no you didnt “ The words spilled out before you could stop them, messy and tangled. “Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you act like nothing was wrong while I You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “I kept telling myself I was stupid. That I imagined it. That you dont t feel the same after years of being partners , so why should it hurt?”
His breath hitched. “You think I didn’t feel it too?”
You turned back to him, eyes burning. “Then why, Brayden? Why her? Why anyone?"
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of you. “Because I thought I was bad for you.”
You froze.
“What?”
“I always thought that,” he admitted, voice low. “You’re disciplined. Focused. You know exactly who you are. And me?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m chaos. I mess things up. I distract myself, I distract others. I didn’t want to be the thing that ruined you, being partners is different then being a relationship.”
“So your solution,” you said incredulously, “was to flirt with other girls?”
“And Elise,” he added, not proud of it. “Yeah. Because if I kept it shallow if I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything then I didn’t have to risk hurting you.”
Your laugh this time was shaky. “Congratulations. You still did.”
“I know,” he said immediately. “And I hate myself for it.”
The room went quiet again, but this time it felt fragile instead of tense.
“I tried so hard not to fall for you,” he continued. “Every time you talked about your goals, every time you got that look in your eyes when something mattered—I told myself you deserved someone better.”
Your voice came out small. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
He looked at you then really looked and something cracked open between you both.
“I know,” he said softly. “I just… always hoped you’d never see me the way I see myself.”
You swallowed hard. “Well, I do. And that’s the problem.”
You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than to shut him out. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” you said again, quieter now. “I never asked that from you .”
He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “I know. I just every time I got close, I thought about how much you had riding on this. On everything. And I kept thinking, I ruin things. So I figured if I kept you at arm’s length, at least I wouldn’t be the one who broke you.”
“You weren’t keeping me safe,” you said, your voice trembling despite yourself. “You were shutting me out.”
His shoulders sagged at that, like the words physically weighed on him. “Yeah. I was.” You paced a few steps away, pressing your fingers into your temples. “Do you know how lonely that felt?” you asked, turning back to him. “Standing next to you every day, trusting you with my body on the ice, my balance, my timing—and not knowing where I stood with you off it?”
He took a step toward you, then stopped himself. “I was scared.”
“So was I,” you snapped, then immediately softened. “I still am.”
Your eyes stung, and you hated that you couldn’t stop it now. “I kept telling myself it was just partnership. That whatever I felt didn’t matter because you’d never cross that line.” Your voice cracked. “And then you did. Just not with me.”
“I never meant for you to find out like that,” he said.
You laughed weakly. “Is there ever a good way?”
He shook his head, guilt etched into every line of his face. “Elise didn’t mean anything. Not like this. Not like you.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt less,” you said. “It just makes it confusing.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But it was never about replacing you. It was about distracting myself. About proving I could keep things surface-level so I wouldn’t want more.”
You studied him then the tension in his posture, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. “And did it work?” you asked.
“No,” he said immediately. “Not even a little.”
Silence settled again, heavier but honest.
“You don’t see yourself the way everyone else does,” you said finally. “You think you’re this walking disaster, but you’re not. You’re careful when it counts. You show up. You don’t quit.”
He met your eyes. “And you don’t see how much power you have over me.”
Your breath caught.
“I kept telling myself I had to be less,” he continued. “Less attached. Less honest. Because if I let myself want you the way I do… I was terrified I’d drag you down with me.”
You took a shaky step closer. “What if I want that risk?”
His voice was barely audible. “Then I wouldn’t know how to live with myself if I hurt you.”
You stood there, close enough now to feel the warmth of him, but not touching. “You already did,” you said softly. “But I’m still here.”
That seemed to undo him more than anything else. He let out a slow breath. “I don’t know how to be good for you.”
You looked up at him, eyes glossy but steady. “Then stop deciding you’re bad for me and let me choose.”The space between you shrank without either of you meaning for it to happen.
You weren’t sure who moved first maybe neither of you did. Maybe it was just gravity, or the way the room suddenly felt too small His breath brushed against your cheek, warm and unsteady, and you became acutely aware of how close you were. Close enough to count the freckles on his face. Close enough to feel the tension in his shoulders.
He looked at you like he was memorizing you. “If I do this,” he said quietly, “I don’t know how to stop.” Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs. “I’m not asking you to.”
His hand lifted, hesitating midair, fingers hovering just shy of your waist. The restraint in that small distance felt louder than any touch. Slowly like he was giving you time to change your mind he let his thumb brush against your hand instead.
Electric. You inhaled sharply, eyes dropping to his mouth before you could stop yourself. You felt it then the pull, undeniable and aching. He leaned in, just a fraction, and your body followed on instinct.
Your lips were inches apart.
You could feel the question in the pause, the weight of everything this would mean if either of you closed that distance. His forehead rested briefly against yours, a silent confession.
“God,” he murmured, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
That was what made you stop.You pressed your hand lightly against his chest, not pushing him away, just enough to remind both of you where you were. “If we do this,” you whispered, voice trembling, “it won’t just be a moment.”
He froze, breath hitching.
“It’ll change everything,” you continued. “Us. The ice. The trust.”
He swallowed hard, then slowly pulled back, though it clearly cost him. His hand fell from yours like it was the hardest thing he’d done all day.
“You’re right,” he said hoarsely. “And that’s why I stopped myself every time before.”
Your chest ached at the restraint in his eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it.”
“I know,” he replied softly. “That’s the problem.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward it was heavy, charged with everything you’d almost done. He took a step back, giving you space even though it hurt him.
“I don’t want to be a mistake in your life,” he said. “The moment stretched, fragile and trembling, until the restraint between you finally gave way. His hand came up slowly, like he was still giving you the chance to stop him, fingers brushing your jaw. You didn’t pull away.
So he leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first hesitant, almost questioning like neither of you quite believed you were allowed this. His lips brushed yours, barely there, and your breath caught before you kissed him back.
That was all it took. The kiss deepened, still gentle but full of everything you’d been holding back. Weeks months years of unsaid feelings poured into that single moment. His hand settled at your waist, grounding, careful, You melted into him before you could think better of it.
For a few seconds, nothing else existed. Not the ice. Not the routines. Not Elise. Just the warmth of him and the quiet certainty that this this was real.
When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, breaths uneven.
“I should’ve done that sooner,” he murmured.
Your lips curved into a small, shaky smile. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You should’ve.”
The world didn’t magically fix itself after that kiss but something shifted. Something honest and impossible to ignore.
“Then we figure this out,” you said. “Slowly. Honestly.”
So... for the people who defend Adriana & Freddie, cause they have a "deep past story", it's her "first love", etc. So, for them it's "logical that they end up together"... Let me say this ; It's all well and good to have a story. Except that we, the viewers, never saw this old love story. Furthermore, canonically, the characters didn't speak to each other for two years before season 1, and above all, from our own perspective, in the show, in the present, we barely saw any scenes with those two. You don't build an endgame romance that way. That's just a fact. Adrianna and Freddie are bad written. 😑
Hear me out: am I the ONLY one who liked how “Finding Her Edge” ended in terms Adriana and Freddie ending up together? I was pleasantly surprised because it happens very late in the show after a lot of setup and an atmosphere that says she’ll end up with the new hot guy, Brayden (he isn’t just that). I was kicking my feet gobsmacked when Adriana and Freddie finally kissed, and both of them loved each other from beginning to end, with ultimately no problem, misunderstanding, or other person changing how they feel. It was refreshing that it didn’t go the typical way of her being with the new bad boy love interest because that is how it always goes. It is almost like Brayden is the main male lead, but she ends up with the second male lead, which is perfect but totally wrong in terms of the “laws” of shows/dramas (female leads end up with the main male leads; a second lead by definition does not get the girl/boy, right?). Brayden and Freddie were kind of both leads, but Brayden was the focus of the story with Adriana. I think her choosing who she originally loved, Freddie, kind of pointed out the one red flag or biggest problem that I have with Brayden even though he is gorgeous and funny and seems to have sincere feelings for Adriana. It’s the fact he bails out whenever he doesn’t get his way or it gets hard. Totally valid response, but not when it is (1) hurting others and (2) breaking a promise. It gave me a tiny bit of ick when he pulled the same stunt AGAIN after winning gold, just leaving Adriana behind for the final dance. Even though she clearly said in the beginning the relationship had boundaries and wasn’t real; she owed him no real romantic relationship. She says no, as is her right, and he throws out professionalism and leaves her hanging? A second time? And after promising not to do that again? Anyway, I am unapologetically happy that she ended up with Freddie, but it seems the majority like Brayden based on the sparse Tumblr posts I’ve seen on the show so far. And, oh, the tension between Adriana and Freddie was peak; it had nothing on the moments of Adriana/Brayden, IMO. God forbid Netflix actually make a second season, they better stay together no matter the trials and tribulations, or else.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hey Bolt! Whos the Jolteon that looks like you but old with just as much forehead?
Bolt: ...My dad's name is Brayden, he's the Vice Leader of the box we live in. I'm his assistant. ^^; Um... Normally I'd be working with him or in the Box 3 archives, but I have some time off work... honestly kind of glad for it, heh.
Blizz: Because he's an asshole
Bolt: ...Can you stop calling my dad an asshole
Blizz: But he is one
Bolt:
Blizz: You didn't say I was wrong.
