#-if you're over-achieving and you know it clap your hands

[mr-cha-n]

Crossing the Finish Line

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, athletes AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, reader is a bit of an asshole, exercise

Word Count: 17.4k

Summary: Winning is the only thing that matters, except if you're raising money for a charity event with an infuriatingly good-looking swimmer.

The burn of your muscles and the sweat on your brow are a satisfying reminder of how far you've come.

Reaching for the water bottle at the base of the wall, you take a well-deserved gulp before turning to your coach, who’s approaching with a towel in hand, clapping proudly.

"If you can recreate that in Tokyo, you won’t have to worry about coming home empty-handed!" Sungjin grins, his pride almost matching your own as you bask in the achievement of a personal best—almost.

"I guess I'll just have to keep at it to make sure of that," You smile gingerly, leaning forward to grab the towel and dab the moisture from your face.

"Well, motivation’s never been your problem," he says, raising an eyebrow as if to protest, but instead, he simply gestures back to the climbing wall, hinting for you to continue.

You know Sungjin thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard, but as you square up to the lead course in front of you, feeling that familiar sense of belonging and purpose the wall brings, you’re certain even he has to admit the hard work is paying off.

With a steadying breath, your hands dip into the chalk bag at your waist. Just a little faster, a little stronger, and you’ll be up there competing with the greats of your sport. The clarity of your purpose washes over you; you know your place in the world, and you’re determined to reach it.

"Done already?" 

Iseul's voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you realize you've been staring at the chipped paint on your admittedly worse-for-wear front door.

The shiny black hands on the cockerel-shaped clock at the entrance to your apartment read 9:20 pm. Glancing between the clock, the half-filled pot of chilli simmering on the stove, and your roommate’s teasing look, you realize you’ve missed dinner.

"Honey, I'm home!" you sing-song, spreading your arms wide to envelop Iseul in an apologetic hug. She screeches and runs away, but her laughter lets you know that all is forgiven for your late arrival.

"Sorry for missing dinner, Sullie. I got caught up in that headspace again and completely forgot you were cooking tonight."

"Don’t be sorry, just be grateful I left you some—it should still be warm!" she hums, offering you a reassuring glance.

You feel her eyes on you as you hang your jacket up and begin ladling out the leftover chilli into your favourite bowl.

"What is it?" you ask, tentatively meeting her gaze.

"I just—" she pauses, her expression softening as she searches for the right words. "I’m worried about you. You spend all day at the training gym or the actual gym. I know you’ve got important milestones coming up, and I’ll be there cheering you on from the sidelines, but your whole life can’t revolve around competitions. You’re not going out, seeing friends, meeting new people—"

"I don’t need you setting me up on another blind date if that’s what you’re suggesting," you interject, raising an eyebrow as you take a bite of chilli. "And I have enough friends."

"When was the last time you saw anyone other than me or your coaching team?"

When was the last time you'd seen any of your other friends?

The corner of your mouth twitches in defensive annoyance, trying to come up with a reply that you both know won't be truthful.

"Okay, fine. You might have a point. How about I promise to see people after Tokyo? I’ll even make an appearance at one of your wretched salsa classes."

You’ve attended exactly one of Iseul’s salsa classes and vowed never to repeat the experience. Sixty minutes of humiliation in a class way above the beginner level you were promised, stumbling through the steps only to collide with your rather handsome dance partner and send both of you crashing to the floor. Needless to say, you’ve managed to avoid that class—and that man—ever since.

"You can’t just avoid people for a month, squid!" Iseul protests. "Maybe you could—"

"No," you warn, dread filling you as you anticipate her next suggestion.

"Come on, I think it would be fun! You could-"

"I don't want to!"

"And what if you didn't have a choice?"

That stops you in your tracks. Blinking slowly, you set down your fork and look blankly at your best friend.

"What ... does that mean?" You ask cautiously.

Iseul grimaces, swallowing hard before replying.

"Okay, don’t be mad." That’s never a good sign. "I might have sent the campaign info to Sungjin."

Your brain feels like it’s been doused in ice water as you process what she’s done.

"You mean to say, I decided three months ago that I definitely didn’t want to do the campaign, and you, despite this, still sent the info to my head coach, who will undoubtedly force me to do it for 'good publicity' and 'sponsorship opportunities'?" you scowl, shooting her your best attempt at a withering look.

"That may, perhaps, be correct." She confesses, giving you a look you’d only reserve for your mother after sneaking out without permission.

A long, loud sigh drags its way out of your body.

"Iseul ... really?"

"...yeah, really."

"God, I don't even remember what the campaign was about!" You complain, pushing the half-eaten bowl of chilli aside, your appetite gone with this new revelation.

"Oh! Here, I have the email up!" Iseul beams, clearly feeling far more helpful than you currently think she deserves to feel.

"Of course you do." You glare, moving to look at the computer screen beside her.

Dear Miss (Y/l/n),

As the excitement builds for the upcoming Olympic competition in Tokyo, we are organizing a special event that combines the spirit of athleticism with the power of giving back to the community.

We are thrilled to invite you to participate in our Road to the Rings relay event, scheduled to take place in the week commencing 5 July. This unique relay will bring together athletes like yourself to not only celebrate the Olympic spirit but also to raise awareness and funds for the KSPO.

As a respected athlete, your involvement would greatly enhance the impact of this event. Not only will this be an opportunity to showcase your support for a meaningful cause, but it will also allow you to connect with fellow athletes and fans in a memorable and inspiring way.

Your participation would include:

Joining a team of athletes in a two-day relay through Tokyo city

Promoting the event on your social media platforms

Engaging with fans during the event to share the importance of the cause we are supporting.

With your help, we can make this an unforgettable experience and a powerful force for good. We would be honoured to have you as part of this initiative.

Please let us know if you are available to join us by replying to this email or contacting Soma Kimiko at skimiko@roadtotherings.co.uk by 31 May.

Thank you for considering this opportunity to make a difference through sport.

Warm regards,

Hu Chunho

International Olympic Committee

"Thank god, the deadline for this passed ages ago." You sigh, relief washing over you.

The guilty look that remains stamped on Iseul's face does not inspire confidence in you.

"Well, about that—don’t quote me on this, but I think Sungjin might have contacted them, and they may have agreed to let you join anyway?"

"Shit." You swear, wracking your brain for a way out and coming up empty. "Let me call Sungjin; maybe I can convince him to change his mind."

Surrounded by athletes you’ve never met but who all clearly know each other, you scan the crowd for the one face that could save you from your awkward solitude. Soon enough, you manage to catch a glimpse of your teammate, Jeon Wonwoo, across the sea of people. As you begin to wade through the crowd toward him, you realize he’s not alone like you’d hoped but is at the centre of a large group of athletes, all laughing and taking photos outside the Olympic Village entrance.

You've all been allowed early access for the event, a privilege everyone else seems stoaked about, but has left you out of your depth and far from where you want to be.

Deciding that you can morph your embarrassment into a cool, solo mystique rather than face meeting all of Wonwoo’s friends, you pull out your headphones and start wandering around the entrance, feigning busyness.

Keeping one eye on the other athletes, and the other half-heartedly on the information board in front of you, you quickly realise that no one else cares about what you're doing and feel yourself relaxing into the music.

All this waiting has made you hungry, and you wonder if there will be food available in the village or if you’ll have to brave your rudimentary Japanese to find your own sustenance. Surely they'll give you access to the village resources - you'll need to use the gym and the climbing equipment at least -

A sharp tap on your shoulder interrupts your thoughts.

Swivelling around, you’re met face-to-face with a tall, muscular man whose lips are moving, but you can’t hear a word. Gaping at him in confusion, you’re about to tell him he’s not saying anything when he gestures to his ear, miming pulling something out of it—oh, right, your earphones.

You scramble to pull your left earbud from your ear.

"Sorry, I was just saying that they're letting us into the village now."

"Oh, uh thank you! And I thought the language barrier would be my biggest comprehension issue!" You exclaim with a smile too wide and a laugh too loud. The cringe instantly seems into your body as the man cocks one eyebrow at you, and it takes all of your will not to shrivel up under his gaze.

You force yourself to keep smiling, even as the heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck. Clearing your throat, you quickly try to recover. "I guess I'm just a little nervous," you admit with a small, sheepish grin, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness. "I've been waiting to be here for a long time, and now that I'm actually here, I'm not sure what to expect."

The man’s eyebrow slowly lowers, and you catch a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He nods slightly, the tension easing just a bit. "It's natural to feel that way," he says, his tone softening. "The games can be... overwhelming at first."

Relieved that the moment has passed, you take a deep breath and offer a more genuine smile. "Thanks for letting me know, we should probably head off before they leave us behind."

"I'm not too worried about that," He lets out a little laugh. As you both start to walk, you finally take in the small crowd that has gathered outside the gates. Though you can’t make out what they’re shouting, the team flags and posters bearing the man’s face clue you in on the nature of the turnout.

Pressing your lips together, you nod your head in mock understanding. "I see, can't keep the fanclub waiting?"

His head snaps away from the crowd to meet your eyes, and for a split second, you worry you’ve said the wrong thing. But then you catch the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"They're more persistent than I expected," he says, his tone light but tinged with weariness. "But I suppose it comes with the territory."

Relieved that he didn't take offence, you relax slightly, feeling a bit more at ease. "Must be exhausting, though," you offer, your voice softer now. "All that attention."

He gives a small shrug, glancing back at the crowd with a resigned expression. "You get used to it," he says, but there's a hint of something in his voice. "But we should really get moving. Don't want to keep anyone waiting—fans or otherwise."

You nod, falling into step beside him as you both head towards the entryway. The buzz of the crowd fades into the background as you walk, the earlier awkwardness slowly dissolving into a comfortable silence.

Once inside the village, the man turns to you again, a curious look on his face. "So, first Olympics?"

You nod, a bit of excitement creeping back into your voice. "Yeah, it’s been a dream for as long as I can remember."

"Well, you’ve got a lot to look forward to," he says, offering a small smile. "It’s an experience like no other."

You smile back, feeling a bit of your nervousness melt away. "I’m sure it will be."

Weary from the day but still buzzing with anticipation, you finally make it to your assigned room. The sight of the cardboard bed brings a huff of amusement. You flop down onto it, savouring the comfort even if it’s temporary. You have the room to yourself for now, but it’s clear that another athlete will be joining you once the games officially begin. For the moment, though, you relish the peace and quiet.

You managed to grab some sashimi from a nearby restaurant earlier on, and with your hunger sated, you start to settle in, considering whether to crack open a book or simply drift off into an early night’s sleep.

A pounding knock on your door quickly dashes those plans.

"Hey! (Y/n)?" A familiarly deep voice calls out, and you drag yourself up to let your teammate into your room.

"Wonwoo, what a nice surprise." you greet him with a forced grin, his chuckle telling you he’s not fooled.

"Don’t tell me you were planning to spend your first night in Tokyo cooped up in here?" he teases, and you respond by chucking a pillow at him.

"Do you not get exhausted from travelling like a normal person?"

"The plane journey was like three hours, tops." He retorts, falling onto your absentee roommate's bed.

"You have a point." You concede. "And yet, a nice warm bath and a book call to me."

"God, you're so dull!" 

"What are you on about? You read more than anyone I know!"

"Yes, but I'm not reading now, am I? That should tell you something..."

You hate that his logic is making sense to you. Giving him a long, squinty-eyed stare, you eventually give in.

"So, what’s the plan? Not that I’m going, I’m just curious."

Perking up, Wonwoo lifts himself off the bed with a speed you usually only see on the climbing wall. The sly grin that spreads across his face makes you instantly wary.

"A few friends are gathering in one of the common rooms for some drinks and mingling. People might split off later to go clubbing or karaoke or something, but you could just come to the party part if you’re interested. It’s just down the corridor—you wouldn’t be able to sleep with the noise anyway."

You mull it over, remembering the promise you made to Iseul before you left.

"Fine, maybe I’ll make an appearance." The satisfied grin on Wonwoo’s face forces you to hold back an eye roll. Your expression softens, hesitating to confide your apprehensions. "Just… don’t ditch me, okay? I don’t really know anyone else here."

Wonwoo’s playful demeanour shifts to one of gentle understanding as he nods in agreement.

"It’ll be a good chance to meet some new people—they’re really nice." He notices your screwed-up look of unease. "And I’ll introduce you. Don’t worry, the room is like 300 square feet; you’re not gonna lose track of me."

"Alright, fine. Now get out—I have to get changed!" You playfully whack his arm with your remaining pillow, and his laughter echoes in your room as he leaves, making the decision feel a little less daunting.

Rummaging through the unemptied suitcase on your bedroom floor, you thank Iseul for the scrunched-up red dress at the bottom of the case. Throwing it on with your probably unnecessary black leather jacket and some knee-high black boots, you feel like you at least look like you belong at a party.

Lining your lips with a rouge that matches the dress, and blasting some hyper pop to get you pumped up, you take a deep breath, realizing that, despite your nerves, this could be a chance to really settle in, to find your place not just in the competition, but among the people who, like you, have worked so hard to be here.

The bass of the music drums into the back of your skull as you fix yourself a drink in the small common room kitchen. You'd beelined straight to the drinks, grateful to give yourself something to do and to get some liquid courage before you face up to the other athletes.

Taking a sip from your cup, you scan the room for the face of your friend. As promised, you make eye contact with Wonwoo on the other side of the room, who flags you over to come talk to his friends. Revving yourself up for socialising, you make sure to keep an easy smile plastered to your face as you head over to join him.

"Hey, guys, this is my fellow climber, (Y/n). This is (Y/n)'s first Olympics, so ease her in gently!"

A flurry of names and greetings follow, and you take in none of them.

"Between the nerves and the secretive partying, I feel like it's the first day of high school again." You joke, trying to break the ice.

"Ha, if only I was cool enough to be invited to parties my first year of high school!" A lanky man with frosted tips replies, chuckling into his drink.

"I feel like that explains a lot about you, Chunghee." A pretty woman with a knowing smile laughs. Looking towards you, she leans forward, half-whispering, half-speaking. "He's been making up for it ever since," She teases, earning a playful shove from Chungee, who rolls his eyes but grins nonetheless.

You laugh along with them, feeling the tension in your shoulders start to ease as the group’s friendly energy begins to draw you in. The music still pounds in the background, but it seems less overwhelming now.

Wonwoo nudges you lightly, a reassuring smile on his face. "You settling in okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," you nod, glancing around at the group. "It's just a bit surreal, you know? One minute, I'm in my usual training routine, and now I’m here, surrounded by all these amazing athletes. It’s a lot to take in."

"Tell me about it," the woman who teased Chunghee chimes in. "I still remember my first Olympics—it felt like stepping into another world. But don’t worry, by the time the opening ceremony rolls around, you’ll feel right at home."

"Thanks," you say, genuinely touched by the support. "I’m excited—nervous, but excited."

"Excited is good," Wonwoo says, clinking his drink against yours. "And hey, you've always got tonight to get embarrassingly wasted and earn your spot in the Olympic Village Hall of Fame!"

"Speaking of, I got in late for my first Olympics, so my first night ended up being the night of the opening ceremony. I got nervous sick in my room beforehand and used the twenty minutes I had to get absolutely hammered. Next thing I know, I'm tripping over my own feet holding the Olympic torch and trying not to set everything on fire. To this day, the other athletes still call me 'Torch Tango' after I somehow managed to spin around and do a full pirouette, nearly taking out the torchbearer behind me," A jovial woman standing to the right of Wonwoo chimes to a chorus of laughter. 

You find yourself laughing along with them, the image of her drunkenly dancing with the Olympic torch so absurd that you can't help but be amused. "That sounds both terrifying and hilarious," you say, shaking your head. "I can’t imagine how you pulled that off."

"Trust me, it wasn’t on purpose!" she replies, still giggling. "But it broke the ice for me. I figured if I could survive that level of embarrassment in front of the entire world, I could handle anything the games threw at me."

"You know, that’s actually kind of inspiring," Wonwoo chimes in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe (Y/n) here should start off with a bang like that, get all the nerves out of the way early."

You shoot him a mock glare, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Let’s not tempt fate, okay? I’d rather not be remembered as 'the one who set the Olympic Village on fire.'"

The group chuckles, and Chunghee raises his glass in a mock toast. "To avoiding accidental arson and to surviving our first Olympics without becoming memes!"

"Cheers to that," you agree, clinking your drink against his. The mood in the room is light and warm, and the camaraderie in the group is palpable. You feel yourself relaxing even more as the conversation flows naturally from one topic to the next. Stories of past competitions, travel mishaps, and favourite training rituals are shared, and before long, you find yourself laughing along, no longer worried about making a good impression.

You catch Wonwoo’s eye across the group, and he gives you a small nod, as if to say, "See? I told you it’d be fine." And as you take another sip of your drink, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

Moving back to grab a second round of drinks, you overhear the conversation loudly playing out on the other side of the room.

"-definitely Haneul, she's an Olympic medalist in shooting. I'm not gonna get mauled by a tiger if she's protecting me!" A passionate voice calls out to a chorus of laughter.

You peer around to see a group of about eight to ten people occupying the common room sofas and floor in one big circle. Amongst the group, you spot the man from earlier, leaning back in his position on the couch with an easy laugh and a cup in one hand.

"No offence, Haneul, but if I'm trying to survive a deserted island, I think I'd have bigger priorities than shooting wild animals with a non-existent gun." Another man replies. "I know who I'd want."

"Oh yeah, who?" The original voice calls back, belonging to a confident-looking woman dressed in all black.

"Kim Mingyu, obviously. A world-renowned swimmer, self-made handyman, and absolute gym lad. Not only could he cook me meals, but he'd cuddle me around the fire to keep me warm. And if that didn't work, then his hoards of lovers would track him down and rescue us!"

Kim Mingyu... you recognise that name. The group are now all laughing and nodding at the man on the floor, and you quickly put together the pieces. The fan club, the name, and the admittedly handsome face - the man you'd spoken to earlier was the infamous breaststroke swimmer. You'd seen countless articles in the newspaper about his latest fling, being caught at a rowdy party, and, of course, the record-breaking swims. You hadn't made the connection at first - he'd been so down-to-earth during your brief conversation that it was hard to reconcile that with the image of the notorious athlete plastered across the tabloids.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there, hovering on the edge of the group with your fresh drink in hand, when suddenly Mingyu catches your eye. His laughter subsides as he notices you, and without missing a beat, he flashes you a toothy grin.

"What about you, Mingyu? Who would you bring? You can't pick yourself!"

"You guys have got it all wrong - I'm not the best pick." He starts, putting his cup down in mock seriousness. "I'd bring someone who could gather food, get resources, and save me if I fell off a cliff. The obvious choice is (Y/n)," You feel your heartbeat skyrocket as your name leaves his mouth and the group of debaters swivel round to look at you. "She's literally a world champion in climbing. She could climb a tree for food, wood, or leaves to craft things, and she's the only person here I'd trust to be able to pull me up if I was swinging from her grip off of the edge of a cliff."

You didn't know that he knew who you were. Your heart patters at the realisation, and you feel a blush begin to creep up the side of your neck.

"Oh, I'd be a bad choice," You respond shakily. Mingyu gives you an inquisitive look to carry on.

"I'm deathly allergic to nuts, if the island had any I'd have to choose between insta-death or starvation - not a very good ally if I'm dead."

His gaze lingers, a playful curiosity flickering in his eyes, and it takes all your willpower not to squirm under the attention. You force a laugh, trying to shake off the growing tension. "So, I guess we’ll have to make sure there’s a nut-free island for me to survive on," you quip, attempting to keep the mood light.

Mingyu grins, leaning back against the couch with a nonchalant shrug. "Don’t worry, I’d make sure of it. Can't have my survival expert checking out early."

The group laughs, and the conversation shifts back to the hypothetical island debate.

"I'm sure you've had your ear chatted off about the games, but have you got any interesting plans for afterwards?" The woman in the black outfit, who happens to be sitting closest to you, calls out. 

Double-checking that she is speaking to you first, you perch down next to her.

"Nothing too serious - an unavoidable salsa class and more training probably. There was one sponsorship deal my team got sent with Samsung, but I don't think I'm gonna do it,"

"You're seriously considering turning it down?" Mingyu asks, and you hadn't even realised that he'd been listening to your conversation. "That's a huge opportunity."

"Sure, but I didn't come here for sponsorships. I just want to compete, to push myself. The whole media circus that comes with it ... I don't want it." 

You can feel the weight of his disbelief on you. 

Mingu leans forward, his expression more serious than you've seen before.

"You do realise that sponsorships are part of the game, right? They're what keep you here, you can't just ignore that."

You feel a flicker of frustration at his words. "I get that, but it's not why I'm here. Not everyone's looking for the celebrity lifestyle; sometimes it's okay to not have your whole life plastered over the daily newspaper."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The icy look in his eyes is entirely different to the friendly aura you'd experienced earlier.

You hadn't meant for it to come out that way, but the words had slipped out before you could stop them. The tension in the room thickens instantly, and you feel a knot of regret tighten in your chest.

"It means - it doesn't mean anything. That's just not my priority," You reply, trying to appear calm despite the hard edge to your voice.

"Not everything in life is about winning a race, you know that right?" He retorts, and you feel yourself scoff.

How could he think that?

That's why you were all here, what brought you together - a mutual dedication to being the best. To deny it was naive.

"-hey, man, we're heading out now, you coming?" The deserted island man leans over Mingyu's shoulder, pulling his arm towards the crowd gathering at the exit of the common room. Mingyu gives you one last look, before nodding at his friend.

"Yeah, coming."

"Thank you everyone for being here! My name is Hu Chunho, and I am the coordinator of this event!"

You wince as the sound of the loudspeaker makes your head pang. You'd managed to get in a quick training session early this morning, and had not been surprised to see a host of other athletes in the gym already.

"As you all know, we're here to help raise money and awareness before the Olympic Games start. We've set up a fun two days for you guys - and hopefully a fun experience for all those following along at home. Throughout the city, we've set up checkpoints. Taking it in turns, you will be asked to travel to each consecutive checkpoint and complete a task with your teammate when you get there. The winning team will be crowned based on a mixture of factors, including points for each task, the most money raised, and the best viral moment! Remember, getting people engaged and donating is the aim of the game! Now, a list of the teams has been posted on the door over there - please get ready, fill up your bottles, and connect with your teammate and we will begin in 30."

You are faced with the true task of your trip, and the reason why you wanted to avoid it in the first place. Your brain skips in circles as you try to work out how to balance your dislike for social media with your need to win. The challenge ahead feels like it’s pulling you in two different directions—on one hand, the competitive spirit that has driven you this far pushes you to give your all, to win this event just like any other. On the other hand, the idea of chasing “viral moments” and being under the scrutiny of social media makes your stomach turn. You’re here to climb, to compete, not to entertain the masses with antics designed to go viral.

But there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed to this, and like it or not, it’s part of the game.

With a sigh, you weave through the crowd to where the team list is posted, each step a reminder of the tightrope you’re about to walk. As you scan the list for your name, your heart skips a beat when you find it—right next to Kim Mingyu’s.

Of course. You should’ve seen that coming. It’s like the universe has a sense of humour. Mingyu, the guy who’s practically a social media darling, always in the spotlight, the one who you'd argued with about embracing this side of sport last night. You can already imagine the smug grin on his face when he finds out.

You glance around, searching for him in the growing crowd of athletes, and spot him near the front, chatting animatedly with a group of other competitors. As if sensing your gaze, he turns, his eyes locking onto yours across the room. He flashes that familiar, easygoing smile and you wonder if that's meant for you or for the series of onlookers around. 

Your pulse quickens as Mingyu’s gaze lingers on you. For a moment, you consider slipping away, avoiding the inevitable confrontation. But that would be cowardly, and if there’s one thing you’ve prided yourself on throughout your career, it’s facing challenges head-on. So, you straighten your shoulders and start making your way toward him.

As you approach, the group he’s with gradually shifts their focus to you, and the hum of their conversation quiets. Mingyu’s smile broadens, clearly amused by your reluctant approach.

“Looks like we’re teammates,” he says casually, as if the tension from last night’s conversation had never happened.

You manage a nod, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, seems like it.”

One of the other athletes, a sprinter you vaguely recognize, perks up. “You guys make a good team—power and endurance. Should be interesting to see how you handle the challenges.”

“Thanks,” you reply, keeping your tone polite. You turn back to Mingyu, who’s watching you with that same inscrutable expression. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Mingyu echoes, tilting his head slightly. “I thought we were just winging it.”

His nonchalance grates on you. Of course, he’d suggest going with the flow. That’s probably how he handles everything—charming his way through life with a smile and a shrug. But you’re not wired that way. You need a strategy, a clear path to victory.

“I don’t know about you,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “but I’d like to win this thing. So, maybe we should come up with a plan.”

Mingyu studies you for a moment, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Alright,” he says finally. “What do you have in mind?”

You hadn’t expected him to concede so easily, and it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, we know that completing the tasks is important, but so is raising money and creating those ‘viral moments.’ I think we should focus on playing to our strengths—use your popularity to get the attention and donations, and I’ll focus on the physical challenges.”

Mingyu nods slowly. “Makes sense. But we should also make sure we’re having fun with it. If we’re too focused on winning, people will notice, and it might turn them off from supporting us.”

You bite back the urge to argue, realizing that he has a point. This event isn’t just about competition; it’s about engaging with the audience, making them want to be part of your journey. And as much as you hate to admit it, Mingyu’s easygoing nature might actually help with that.

“Fine,” you agree, “but we still need to stay on top of the challenges. No slacking off.”

Mingyu grins again, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Deal. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

The tension between you eases slightly as you both start discussing potential strategies, and by the time Hu Chunho’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker again, you feel a bit more prepared for what’s ahead.

“Alright, athletes, it’s time to head to your first checkpoint! Good luck, and remember—have fun!”

You'd agreed that Mingu would take on the first challenge so that he could introduce your tasks to the audience, and god you are glad that he did. As you'd hopped into the car to get a lift over to Meiji Jingu, the shrine that was to be the first checkpoint, you saw Mingyu being handed a traditional bow and quiver full of arrows. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as the realization dawned on you: the first challenge was archery, something you had no experience with and Mingyu, as far as you knew, wasn’t exactly an expert in either. But, you had to admit, he looked the part—focused and serious, with the bow in his hands, and that ever-present confidence on his face.

As you lean back in the car, you are relieved that Mingyu is the one in the spotlight. You know how to navigate the climbing wall, how to plan your routes and push your body to its limits, but this? This is something entirely different.

On your journey, you watch the live stream coming from Mingyu's phone as he runs through the park to get to the shrine. He's happily chatting away to the audience with a level of casualness you've never experienced in the rare times you've been forced into the public spotlight. Watching him jogging along, bow and quiver in hand, hair tousled in the morning breeze, you wonder if he might go viral just for this image alone.

When you arrive at Meiji Jingu, the historic shrine surrounded by ancient trees, the atmosphere is electric. The shrine grounds are bustling with people—locals and tourists alike, all eager to see the Olympic athletes tackle this unique challenge. Cameras are everywhere, capturing every moment for the live stream, and you can acutely feel the eyes of thousands, maybe millions, watching from around the world.

After a short wait for the running athletes to arrive, you spot Mingyu and the other contestants entering the competition zone. At this moment, you can't help but admire the serene beauty of the shrine. The towering Torii gate, the carefully manicured gardens, and the ancient architecture give the place a sense of calm—at odds with the tension brewing in your stomach.

You spot Mingyu a little way off, adjusting his grip on the bow, chatting casually with one of the event organizers. Even from a distance, you can see the ease in his posture, the way he seems to be soaking in the energy of the crowd rather than shying away from it. As much as you hate to admit it, Mingyu seems in his element here.

"Hey, ready to show off those archery skills?" you call out, approaching him to take over the live stream duties for the team whilst he shoots. 

He turns to you, flashing that trademark smile into the camera. "Ready as I'll ever be. How hard can it be, right?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I’m glad it’s you and not me up there. I don’t think I’d even hit the target."

"Well, let's hope I do, or we’re both going to be in trouble," Mingyu jokes, but there is a seriousness in his eyes that tells you he is more focused than he lets on.

An organizer approaches, signalling that it is time to begin. The challenge is simple: hit the target as close to the centre as possible. The closer the shot, the more money raised for charity, and the more points your team would earn.

Mingyu takes his position, and you can feel the collective anticipation of the crowd as they quiet down, all eyes on him. The camera drones hover above, ready to capture every moment.

The camera in your own hand is shaking slightly. You steady your hand and your nerves as you narrate what you are seeing to the phone. 

He draws the bowstring back, his movements surprisingly smooth for someone who, as far as you knew, has never held a bow before. You hold your breath, the tension in the air palpable as Mingyu focuses on the target.

Then, with a steady exhale, he releases the arrow. It soars through the air, and you watch, heart pounding, as it flies towards the target.

It isn’t a bullseye, but it is close—closer than you’d expected. The crowd erupt in cheers and applause, and you can’t help but join in, a grin spreading across your face. Mingyu turns to you, raising his arms in a mock victory pose, and you laugh, shaking your head at his theatrics and making sure to get the moment on camera.

“Not bad, Kim. Not bad at all,” you call out, genuinely impressed.

He jogs over to you, still holding the bow, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Told you we’d figure this out. Now it’s your turn to show me what you’ve got.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Let’s just hope the next challenge is something that doesn’t involve me embarrassing myself in front of the entire world.”

As the car pulls away from Meiji Jingu, you glance at Mingyu, who is scrolling through the latest updates on his phone, probably checking the social media response to his archery skills.

The city of Tokyo rushes by outside the window, vibrant and alive, and you feel a renewed sense of determination. This isn’t just a challenge—it is an opportunity. To prove yourself, not just as an athlete, but as someone who could rise to the occasion, no matter what it demanded.

“Looks like people are pretty impressed with your archery skills,” you remark, breaking the silence between you.

Mingyu glances up, his smile widening. “Yeah, not bad for a first try, huh? They’re calling it beginner’s luck, but I’ll take it.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Hey, whatever works. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he teases, flashing a playful grin. “So, any guesses on what the next challenge might be?”

You shrug, glancing out the window as the car slows down, weaving through a narrower street lined with small shops and eateries. “No idea. But I’m hoping it’s something more in my wheelhouse.”

The car eventually comes to a stop in front of a small, unassuming building. The sign above the entrance reads 'Nihonbashi Hamacho' in elegant calligraphy, and as you step out of the car, you notice the rich aroma of fresh food wafting through the air. A group of event organizers are already waiting, along with a few locals who have gathered, curious about what is happening.

Mingyu looks around, taking in the scene. “Smells good. Maybe the next challenge involves food?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the possibility. “Wouldn’t mind that at all. But how would that tie into a charity event?”

As if on cue, one of the organizers approaches, holding up a small card with instructions. “Welcome to the second checkpoint, Nihonbashi Hamacho,” she begins with a smile. “Your task here is to make traditional Japanese soba noodles. You will then serve them to local residents, who will donate based on how well they think you did. The team with the highest donations at this checkpoint will earn the most points.”

You exchange a glance with Mingyu, a mixture of surprise and amusement on both your faces. Cooking wasn’t exactly what you’d expected, but it is certainly a unique challenge.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Mingyu says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Think you can pull it off?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “But I’m sure it’ll be entertaining to watch me try.”

The organizers lead you into the building, which turns out to be a small, cozy kitchen set up specifically for the challenge. Everything is neatly arranged—flour, water, rolling pins, and a large wooden cutting board. A local chef stands by, ready to give instructions and oversee your efforts.

Mingyu immediately steps up to the station, eyeing the ingredients with a curious expression. “Alright, let’s see if you can make some magic happen.”

You join him, rolling up your sleeves as the chef begins to explain the process. It sounds simple enough—mix the dough, roll it out, cut it into thin, even strips—but as you get started, it becomes clear that it is much harder than it looks. The dough is tricky to work with, and your first few attempts at rolling it out are uneven and lumpy.

To your side, Mingyu is playing up your cooking for the audience of local spectators and online viewers, and you find yourself slowly joining in with his antics.

His positive attitude is annoyingly infectious, and soon you find yourself relaxing into the task, focusing more on enjoying the experience rather than worrying about perfection. The chef occasionally offers tips, guiding you with a patient smile, and gradually, your noodles start to look more like actual soba.

After what feels like an eternity of rolling, cutting, and re-rolling, you finally have a decent batch of noodles ready. The chef gives a nod of approval, and the organizers quickly set up a small serving station outside, where the locals are already gathering, eager to try the soba made by Olympic athletes.

Mingyu and you take turns serving the noodles, chatting with the locals and trying to convince them that your cooking is worth a generous donation. The atmosphere is light and playful, with plenty of jokes and laughter, and to your surprise, people seem genuinely impressed with your efforts.

“Hey, not bad,” one of the locals says after taking a bite. “I’d donate just for the entertainment, but the noodles are actually pretty good!”

Mingyu grins, giving you a playful nudge. “See? We might have a future as soba chefs if this whole sports thing doesn’t work out.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile. The challenge has been a lot more enjoyable than you’d expected, and for the first time, you feel like you are really getting into the spirit of the event—engaging with people, raising money for a good cause, and, most importantly, having fun.

As the last bowl is served and the donations tallied, you and Mingyu stand back, watching the locals disperse with a sense of accomplishment. The organizers hand over the final donation amount, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride at the total.

The other teams slowly gather their own tallies, but this time you are less concerned with your place in the rankings, and more with chatting to the remnant locals left in the area.

The car hums quietly as it moves through the busy streets of Tokyo. After the high of the soba noodle challenge, you find yourself falling into a contemplative silence. Mingyu, sitting beside you, is flipping through the comments and reactions on his phone, his earlier enthusiasm noticeably dimmed.

You glance over at him, sensing the shift in his mood. “Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

Mingyu doesn’t look up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just…reading over the comments. Some of them are pretty harsh."

"Honestly, if it were up to me I'd just turn off the phone and focus on the tasks at hand." You grumble off-handedly, looking out at the Toyko skyline from the car.

"It's not really that simple if the whole point of being here is about raising awareness." He replies.

"Yeah but there's no point trying to pander to every person's perceptions of us. You're overthinking it." 

As the car slows down at a red light, you spot a small street market tucked away in a side alley, illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns. The stalls are bustling with activity, vendors calling out to passersby, and the vibrant colours of fresh produce and handmade goods catch your eye.

"Hey, put the phone down and look at that!" You exclaim, nudging Mingyu and pointing out the window.

Mingyu looks up from his phone, following your gaze to the lively scene outside. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he takes in the sight. "That looks pretty cool," He admits, his tone lighter than it was just minutes ago.

"Let's take a pit stop and check it out - we can just say we got caught in traffic on the way," You suggest, excited by the atmosphere of the market. "It'll be a nice break."

Mingyu hesitates for a moment, but then nods, tucking his phone away into his pocket.

"Yeah, why not? Let's go."

You signal for the driver to pull over, promising to buy him a tasty snack to make up for the detour.

You step out into the cool evening air. The sound of the city is all around you, but the market feels like a little oasis of calm away from the noise of the competition and the city.

As you walk through the market, the sights, sounds, and smells envelop you. You can hear the sizzling of street food being cooked, the chatter of people bargaining with vendors, and the distant strumming of a guitar from a musician performing near the entrance. The aroma of grilled skewers and freshly baked bread makes your mouth water, and you realize how hungry you still are despite the soba noodles earlier.

Mingyu seems to relax as you both wander from stall to stall, occasionally stopping to admire the crafts or taste a sample offered by a vendor. You notice the tension ease from his shoulders, and the earlier clouds of doubt that hung over him seem to disappear.

At one stall, you find a small display of handcrafted jewellery. Delicate silver chains and intricately designed rings catch the light, and Mingyu picks up a simple bracelet, turning it over in his hands.

“This is nice,” he says, more to himself than to you. “My sister would love something like this.”

“You should get it for her,” you encourage, smiling softly up at him.

He nods, slipping the bracelet back into its place before handing over some cash to the vendor.

The sentimental thought behind the purchase, and Mingyu's affectionate and friendly atmosphere this whole trip seem entirely at odds with the image of the rakish, irresponsible party boy crafted of him in the headlines.

At the far end of the market, you come across a small food stall selling taiyaki. You order one each, Mingyu opting for custard while you go for red bean, and an extra one for your driver.

As you bite into the warm pastry, the sweetness spreads through your mouth, and you let out a contented sigh. Mingyu chuckles at your reaction, his earlier mood now completely gone.

“This was a good idea,” he admits, taking a bite of his own taiyaki. “I needed this.”

“Sometimes, it’s good to just disconnect and enjoy the moment,” you reply, leaning against a nearby railing as you savour the treat.

He looks at you with an expression you can't really distinguish but makes your stomach flip.

"I get why you and Wonwoo are friends - you're pretty similar." He finally says, and you find yourself looking up at him, intrigued to know what makes him say that.

"I mean, you might somehow be even more averse to human contact than him, but you both have a grounded connection to reality that I lack sometimes. I admire it." 

Such a simple statement - a judgement of you that anyone could have made - has you feeling a little light-headed. It's just a moment of tender insight, perhaps blown out of proportion due to your lack of going out over the last few months, but you can't help but feel bashfully shy at his admiration.

And yet, in the back of your mind, a small doubt nags at you, wondering if this was his move - to shower someone with attention and make them feel seen just to leave after it gets boring again.

"Ha, ah, thanks." You say, unable to keep the awkwardness from your voice. "That's ironic - because grounded, you know, climbing and all ..."

He lets out a puff of laughter, but it feels strained and you're choking on the dead air between you.

"Right, let's get back - they'll probably start worrying soon!" You declare, jaggedly cutting into the silence. Spinning on your heel, you don't wait to see if he's following you or not.

As the car approaches the next checkpoint, Odaiba Marine Park, you take a moment to gather your thoughts. The sun is starting to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the city, and the air has cooled considerably.

The organisers greet you at the entrance to the park, explaining the next challenge: a swimming relay. The task involved swimming out to a buoy, retrieving a flag, and racing back to shore. It sounds straightforward enough - although swimming isn't exactly your strong suit.

"Finally, something I can show off in!" Mingyu grins, thanking the organiser who helped you at the entrance. You bite back a remark about how the whole day has really been about who can show off the most.

"Guess I'll be relying on you to carry us through this one." You chuckle, trying to hide the nerves building in you at the thought of failing.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered. But you’re swimming too, right? It’s a relay, so we both have to take a turn.” He shrugs casually, and you wish you had the confidence he has.

“Right,” you say, forcing a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to do my best.”

The idea of letting your team down, of being the weak link, gnaws at you.

You walk onto the beach, the water glittering in the light of the low, late afternoon sun. The crowd of spectators and media are even larger here. The atmosphere is electric, with the excitement of the event palpable in the air.

As you and Mingyu make your way to the starting point, you try to block out the noise, the cameras, the expectations. All you have to do is get through this challenge.

The event coordinator greets you both, handing Mingyu a sleek wetsuit and giving you a similar one. “You’ve got about ten minutes to suit up and get ready. We’ll start the relay as soon as everyone’s in position.”

Mingyu takes the wetsuit with a confident nod, but you hesitate. The tight suit is designed for efficiency, but you can’t help but feel self-conscious as you pull it on, the material clinging to your skin. When you are finally suited up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the reflective surfaces nearby and have to resist the urge to cringe.

Together, you walk down to the water's edge, where the other teams are already gathering.

"Okay, game plan-" Mingyu gives you a small smile, and you know that he's only really talking strategy to calm you down. "You should take the first lap, and then I can make up for any time you lose - if I even need to!"

You nod, steeling your nerves. Competition is what you are good at, even if swimming is not. You're not going to let yourself down now.

As the starting signal blares, you take a deep breath and plunge into the water. The coolness of the ocean envelops you, and for a brief moment, it's all you can focus on - the sensation of the water against your skin, the rhythmic pull of your arms as you begin to swim. 

You feel yourself slipping into that familiar headspace. Brutal efficiency and speed at the cost of the pain in your limbs only further motivates you as you manage to tune out the excited shouts of the spectators and other teams.

Reaching the buoy, you see two of the other teams had already grabbed their flags and turned around. Although the disappointment of not being first flares up in you, you know that all you need to do is keep up with the rest of the group and Mingyu will do the rest of the work for you.

Pushing your aching limbs to their limits, you splash your way back to the shoreline. Your bones sigh with relief as your fingertips graze the sand banks and you hear a splash behind you as Mingyu leaps into the water.

Pulling yourself up onto the beach, spluttering out some wayward water, you watch Mingyu's confident strides through the water. Although you've seen his races before on TV, watching it in real life is like nothing else. The powerful strokes, effortlessly pushing him forward, makes it clear that he was born to be in the water.

By the second quarter of his lap, he's already managed to take the lead. You feel yourself cheering out despite the burning sensation in your lungs. Reaching out for the second flag, he easily lifts it up, beginning to spin to turn back for the second lap.

Your excitement turns to confusion as you watch him just ... stop.

"What are you doing!? Keep going! We're going to win!" You yell, confusion bubbling over into frustration.

But he doesn't hear you, or isn't listening.

Mingyu has turned back around, having spotted another team struggling to untangle their flag from the buoy. Swimming over to them, he steadies the base of the buoy so that the swimmer is able to pull the flag free from its constraints.

Your stomach drops as the team previously in second place breaks out in excited screams, their second-leg swimmer touching the sand bank.

Looking back out at the water incredulously, disappointment searing through you, you watch Mingyu glide back towards the shore, pulling ahead of another team for a third-place position.

"What was that!?" You lash out, as Mingyu pulls himself up onto the bank, panting heavily with droplets of water dripping from his hair and eyelashes. He's looking up at you with a confused, puppy-dog expression, and it's only annoying you more.

"We could have won! Why did you stop?"

Mingyu takes a moment to catch his breath, water dripping from his face as he processes your words. His confusion slowly morphs into something more serious, his brows knitting together as he stands up to face you.

“They needed help,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your frustration only deepens, and you can feel the heat rising in your chest. “But we were winning, Mingyu! This is a competition—we’re here to win, not to play lifeguard!”

Mingyu’s expression hardens, the usual lightness in his eyes replaced by a quiet resolve. “I know it’s a competition, but it’s not just about winning. It’s about more than that—it’s about sportsmanship, about helping each other out. They were stuck, and I wasn’t going to just leave them there.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. Deep down, you know he’s right. You’ve always valued integrity in sports, the idea that the game is bigger than the outcome. But in the heat of the moment, all you could see was the finish line, and the thought of losing—especially when victory had been within reach—had blinded you to everything else.

You let out a long breath, trying to rein in your emotions. “But we were so close… You were in the lead, Mingyu. We could’ve taken first.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. "You're unbelievable."

He shakes his head, walks up the beach, and leaves you to stew in your quiet shame.

"You got mad at him because he ... helped someone?" 

Iseul's obvious confusion is only making you feel worse.

"Yes, that's exactly what I did." You sigh into the phone. You'd called Iseul the moment you'd gotten back to your room, not even waiting to shower off the crusty salt water in your hair.

"Squid, that's a little bit insane." You can hear her grimacing on the other side of the line.

"I know," You admit, chewing on your bottom lip. "This whole day I've been so anal about winning, but the most enjoyable parts were all the times that I wasn't thinking about it! I liked making things for other people, getting to meet the fans, and exploring the Tokyo market. I don't know why I just blew up like that at the end, especially considering, as you said, he was just helping someone."

A long hum buzzes through the phone.

"I don't know squid," Iseul begins, carefully pacing her words. "I think you're so used to thinking about competitions and winning, and now you've been faced with a situation where that's not as important, and a person who has very different priorities to yourself, and you're struggling to deal with it."

"I know, you're right." You say, letting out a long breath. "It's just ... Mingyu's approach to all of this is so different from mine, and I guess a part of me is jealous that he's able to balance having fun and still doing well in competitions in a way that I've never been able to do."

Iseul's voice softens. "It's not a bad thing to want to win, but you have to remember that it's not the only thing that's important in life."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "I can't believe I let my frustration get the better of me. I didn't even give him credit for what he did. He was just being kind, and I ... I snapped at him."

"I don't think it's too late to make things right," Iseul says gently. "Talk to him. Apologise. It's okay to admit when you're wrong."

You fall silent for a moment, considering her words. The knot in your stomach tightens at the thought of facing Mingyu again, but you know that she's right. You can't just let this fester.

"Yeah," You finally say, your voice firmer. "I'll talk to him. I just hope he doesn't think I'm a complete asshole."

Iseul laughs softly. "Based on what you've said about him, Mingyu doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge. He's experienced all of these pressures too, I'm sure he'll understand."

"Thanks, Sullie," You say, grateful for the calming presence of your friend.

"Anytime squid. Now go shower - you can't face up to the sexy man you heavily insulted smelling like sea rot!"

You chuckle, wishing her the best as you hang up the phone. For a moment, you linger at the edge of your bed, letting Iseul's words sink in. Dragging yourself in the shower, the warm water washes away the salt and the stress bubbling up in your mind. As the steam fills the bathroom, you replay the events in your mind, trying to figure out what you’ll say to Mingyu. Apologizing has never been easy for you, especially when it comes to admitting that your single-minded focus on winning might not always be the best approach.

Changing into something more comfortable - sort, worn jeans and a loose sweater - you make your way out to the rooftop garden in the Olympic Village. You aren't sure where you will find Mingyu, but you figure that if you were trying to decompress after a hard day this is where you'd go.

The garden was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of string lights that crisscrossed above the paths. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, dotted with the first stars of the night, and the distant hum of the city below felt like a comforting lullaby. You walked slowly along the path, taking in the scent of blooming flowers and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

As you rounded a corner, you spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench, his face illuminated by the warm light. Mingyu was there, dressed in casual clothes, his hair still damp from his own shower. He was leaning back against the bench, staring up at the sky.

"Hey, mind if I sit?" You say, your voice tentative.

He looks up, emotions flashing across his eyes as he takes you in. The silence in the moment before he responds feels like it drags on for an eternity.

"Yeah, sure." He finally replies, a coldness to his tone that chills you more than the late evening air.

Carefully perching at the end of the bench, leaving enough room between you, you release a long breath, hoping for the courage to rectify the situation.

"I wanted to apologise for earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You were just trying to help, and I... I was so caught up in the idea of winning that I didn’t see what was really important."

Mingyu's gaze swings around to meet your own, and you can see that he's trying to beat down the anger he's feeling.

"Well, I appreciate that." He relies steelily. "But, you know, this whole obsession with winning isn't cool. You've had this problem with me all day about how I do things - that I'm more laid back, that I like to have fun, or be in the public spotlight. But, really, out of the two of us, it wasn't my actions that ruined the mood."

His words cut through the quiet of the rooftop garden, leaving you momentarily speechless. You knew this conversation wouldn't be easy, but hearing the hurt and frustration in Mingyu's voice brings the reality of the situation crashing down on you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're right. I let my obsession with winning cloud my judgment, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry."

Mingyu’s eyes narrow slightly as he studies you, his expression guarded. "It’s not just about what happened today," he says, his voice measured. "It’s like... you’ve been judging me from the start. Like I don’t take this seriously because I’m not as intense as you are. But that’s not who I am. I love competing, but I also believe in enjoying the experience, in being kind to the people around me. That doesn’t make me any less dedicated."

The knot in your chest tightens as you realize just how deeply you’ve misjudged him. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own perspective that you failed to see things from his side.

"I don't know how to express how sorry I am. I got caught up in the winning, but I also got caught up in all the headlines and tabloid articles. I acted like I knew you before I actually did - even though all of your actions today have shown me the complete opposite of how they portray you."

You take in a deep, steadying breath.

"The truth is, you've made me confront a part of myself I've been running from for a while now. Your effortless friendliness, your kindness to everyone, and the way you live your life outside of the competition - it was like watching the truth that I'd been avoiding. The truth that my way of doing things, the complete focus to the detriment of every other part of my life, wasn't actually necessary after all. And that revelation wasn't something I wanted to confront. You just happened to be the unlucky recipient of my turmoil - just by existing - and that was entirely unfair of me. I understand if you think I'm a major asshole or a loser, but if you can find it in you to forgive me I promise all of that baggage will no longer be put on you."

The air weighs heavy in the aftermath of your confession.

Mingyu looks at you for a long moment, before slowly nodding his head.

"I don't think your an asshole or a loser," He says sincerely, with a small chuckle in his voice that immediately reverberates through your body and eases out the tension. "I do think that you should stop reading tabloid newspapers though."

You let out a small huff of laughter, releasing a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.

"Look, I know what I said was harsh," He begins, and you quickly shake your head in disagreement. "No, it was. The drive you have is something that reminds me a lot of myself. You might not believe it now, but I used to do the exact same thing as you - head completely filled with both my own and other people's expectations. I honestly don't think there's anyone here that's gonna be any different. And your drive, it makes you great at what you do - and you are really great at it - but there's so much more to you than being good at climbing."

"That's the lesson I learned for myself, and that I'm still having to learn. Being good at swimming is not my only personality trait, nor is it the only thing I like to do. I still struggle with what other people expect of me, and, like you showed me today, sometimes I do need to get out of that social media bubble. I really did appreciate that, by the way." He continues. 

You feel a wave of relief wash over you at both his forgiveness and his gratitude. Part of you feels even worse for judging this man who's been nothing but kind and introspective, but a larger part feels serene basking in the atmosphere of your late-night confessions.

"Can I ask you something?" You say softly, still apprehensive about disrupting the gentle calm that existed between you.

Mingyu nods, humming a 'yes' for you to continue. His posture is far more relaxed than when you first found him, and under the background lights of the cityscape you can't help but notice how beautiful he looks.

"All of the stuff about the partying and the girls - is any of it true? To be clear, it doesn't matter either way, I'd just like to get to know you better." You ask, feeling too shy to meet his eyes.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound warm and reassuring. "I mean, some of it's true I guess. I don't really think I've done enough to live up to the 'party boy' title though," he says, his tone light but honest. "Yeah, I've had my fun, gone to some parties, met some people, but it's not like I'm out every night getting into fights or causing trouble. The only reason it gets picked up on more than any other athlete is because I have a big following on social media so the stories sell more."

You nod, still too shy to meet his eyes, but you can sense the sincerity in his voice. It’s clear that he’s not trying to brush off the question or hide anything from you.

"I guess when you’re in the public eye, people tend to exaggerate things," he continues, his voice softening. "And, yeah, I’ve been with a few people, but it’s not like I’m out there chasing every girl I meet. Most of it is just rumours and assumptions. You know how it is—people like to talk."

You finally muster the courage to glance up at him, and the gentle look on his face tugs at your heartstrings. "I appreciate you being honest with me," you say quietly. "I didn’t mean to pry, I just… wanted to know the real you."

You watch his face contort from a peaceful smile to an excited expression, raised eyebrows and a large grin that makes you jittery.

"I have an idea - why don't we go out and do something fun? There's not gonna be many chances when the games actually begin, and you're gonna be too tired to want to. But Tokyo nightlife is unlike anything else, and that way we can get to know each other better outside of the pressures of the competition. What do you think?"

He's standing up, his hand outstretched for you to take and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest at the gesture.

This time, you don't need any time to decide. A broad smile taking over your face, you reach out to grab his hand and pull yourself up off of the bench with a small nod.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you say, feeling a rush of excitement that mirrors his own. There’s something thrilling about the spontaneity of the moment, the idea of exploring the city with him, away from the pressures of the competition and the watchful eyes of the media.

Mingyu’s grin widens as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Awesome! I know just the place,” he says, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “It’s this little rooftop bar with an amazing view of the city. I think you’ll love it.”

As you walk together through the vibrant streets of Tokyo, the city’s energy pulses around you. Neon signs flicker in a kaleidoscope of colours, and the sounds of laughter and music fill the air. 

When you arrive at the rooftop bar, the view takes your breath away. The city sprawls out below you, a sea of lights stretching as far as the eye can see. It’s magical, and for a moment, you both stand there in silence, taking it all in.

Mingyu leads you to a cozy corner, where you settle into comfortable chairs with a perfect view of the skyline. The atmosphere is relaxed, the kind of place where you can talk for hours without feeling rushed. And that’s exactly what you do.

As the night wears on, the conversation flows easily. You talk about everything and nothing—your favourite places to travel, the challenges of balancing personal life with the demands of being an athlete, your dreams for the future. There’s a vulnerability in the way Mingyu opens up to you, sharing stories and thoughts he doesn’t often reveal. And you find yourself doing the same, feeling a sense of trust and connection that surprises you.

"You know, my flatmate, Iseul, she calls me squid?" You laugh, embarrassed by the childhood nickname.

"Woah, okay - was not expecting that! There must be a story there?" Mingyu replies, a light breeziness to his laughter.

"Nope, no explanation." You quip, shaking your head in mock indignation.

"Oh, come on!"

"Okay, yeah that was a lie." You chuckle. "In elementary school, on the first day of class, Iseul and I sat next to each other in science class. I'd just moved to the area - I think we were about eight or nine? - and I was so nervous to be in a new school and meet new people. Anyways, I hype myself up to talk to the cool looking girl with one of those summer holiday braids. As I go to open my mouth and speak, my pen explodes in my hand, covering my hands, my shirt, my face - everywhere. Iseul has called me squid ever since. I guess I'm just grateful she still decided to take a chance on me after that."

You peak your head downwards, your ears burning up as you let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Oh, wow - that's a pretty good nickname originator." Mingyu hums. "I never really had any proper nicknames in school, the best I've got is my sister calling me squishy when we were really young."

You release a relieved giggle, glad for the levity Mingyu is able to bring to each moment.

You push your hair back for your face in embarrassment, only to feel Mingyu leaning forward and pushing your hair behind your ear for you. With his face so close to your own and the feeling of his hands next to your face, you feel your smile drop and lips part in shock.

The moment only lasts a second, before his face has moved back again, his hands away from your hair.

Mingyu leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watches the city lights flicker. “You know,” he says softly, “I’ve been to so many places, done so many things, but this… tonight… it feels different.”

You look at him, your heart swelling at his words. “I feel the same way,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad we did this.”

He turns to you, his eyes warm and full of something you can’t quite name. “Me too.”

As the night stretches and the bar begins to empty, neither of you are in a hurry to leave.

"I heard you guys didn't make it to karaoke yesterday, would you wanna go now?" You question, feeling a levity you haven't felt in a long time.

Mingyu's eyes light up at your suggestion. The look is honestly adorable, and you can't help but feel even more endeared towards this overly enthusiastic man.

"Karaoke? Now? Absolutely!" He exclaims, the smile across his face contagious. 

"You really like karaoke, huh?" You tease, enjoying how animated he's become.

"Who doesn't?" He replies, standing up and offering you his hand once again. "Come on, we have to go before the night is over."

Together, you leave the now-empty bar behind, stepping out into the cool night air. The city is still alive, even at this late hour, and you can hear the faint sounds of heels clicking against the pavement as club-goers making their way home, takeaway boxes in hand.

As you walk towards the nearest karaoke spot, Mingyu is practically bouncing with anticipation. “Okay, but just to warn you,” he says with a playful grin, “I take karaoke very seriously. I’ve got a playlist and everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “A playlist? You’re really prepared.”

“Always,” he says with a wink. “But don’t worry, I’m up for anything. What’s your go-to karaoke song?”

You think for a moment, considering the question. “Probably something upbeat and fun. Maybe a classic pop song that everyone knows - some Shinee or BIG BANG?"

Mingyu nods approvingly. “Good choices. I’m all about the crowd-pleasers too. Nothing better than getting everyone singing along.”

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, you’re both buzzing with anticipation. The place is lively, with groups of people gathered around tables, cheering on their friends as they sing their hearts out. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, and you feel any lingering nerves melt away.

Mingyu arranges for a private room, and as you step inside, you’re greeted by colourful lights and a large screen displaying an endless list of songs. You can’t help but feel a little thrill of excitement for spending this time with Mingyu.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” Mingyu says, handing you the remote to choose the first song.

You scroll through the options, finally settling on a catchy, upbeat tune that you know will get the energy flowing. As the music starts, you grab the microphone and throw yourself into the performance, letting go of any self-consciousness. Mingyu watches with a grin, clapping along and cheering you on.

When your song ends, Mingyu takes his turn, picking a song with a dramatic flair. His voice is surprisingly good, and he belts out the lyrics with a passion that’s both impressive and hilarious. You can’t stop laughing, but you’re also genuinely impressed—he’s not kidding when he says he takes karaoke seriously.

The night continues like this, with the two of you trading songs, singing duets, and laughing until your sides hurt. There’s a carefree joy in the air, a sense of freedom that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s as if, for these few hours, you’re both able to forget about the pressures of the competition and just enjoy the moment.

As the final song of the night plays, a slow, sentimental tune, you find yourselves standing side by side, sharing the microphone. The playful banter fades, replaced by a quiet connection as you sing together. It’s a sweet, unexpected moment of closeness, and when the song ends, you both linger in the silence that follows.

Mingyu turns to you, his expression softening. "Thanks for this, it was a great suggestion." He says quietly.

You smile up at him, feeling the warmth of his words. "It was perfect."

The tension between you floods the room in a manner that feels entirely different to the argument earlier. The way he's looking at you and the fluttering of your heart - you feel yourself being sucked into his aura and he's not doing anything to stop it from happening.

But then it's all too much and all too fast, and your brain processes the situation, and you're here, with the most handsome man you've ever seen, and you're just you. With the little experience of romance you've had, dampened by the very little time you've ever spent trying to pursue it, you feel yourself floundering, unsure of what to do or if you've entirely misread the situation.

What if this was just a friendly night out between teammates? Something to clear the air after a disagreement? What if you're feeling something that he's not?

Breaking the eye contact and pulling your head back around to the karaoke machine, you let out a little, awkward cough.

"We should probably be heading back now - don't want to oversleep and miss the second day of tasks, right?" You say, attempting to keep your voice light but utterly failing.

"Right, yeah, definitely." Mingyu replies, and you can't bear turning back to look at him to further gauge his reaction.

You wake up early on the second day of the campaign. You had tossed and turned all night, your mind racing with endless thoughts about last night. Deciding it is better to get up and do something productive to clear your head, you end up getting up and heading down to the training pool for a few laps of calming cardio.

Reaching the pool, you strip down to your swimsuit, wrapping a tool around your body and holding on to your bag which you intend to just dump next to the pool.

The sight you are greeted with when you reach the pool stops you in your tracks. Mingyu is already there, cutting through the water with powerful, graceful strokes. He's completely in his element, his focus entirely on the rhythm of his movements, oblivious to your presence. For a moment, you stand there, towel clutched around you, watching him. There's something almost mesmerising about the way he moves, each stroke smooth and deliberate, a perfect blend of strength and precision.

As you continue to watch, a swirl of emotions churns within you. The memories of the previous night, the almost-kiss, and the way you pulled away flood your mind. Part of you wants to rush forward, to apologise, to explain your hesitation, but another part holds you back, uncertain of how to approach him.

Caught frozen between your two instincts, it's Mingyu who first notices you standing there. He stops at the edge of the pool, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The tension lingers in the air, something unsettled and unspoken.

“Morning,” Mingyu says, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of something more—concern, maybe?

“Morning,” you reply, managing a small smile as you step closer, placing your bag down beside the pool. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

"Gotta keep a consistent routine going, even if I'm going to spend the day doing more exhausting physical activities." He nods, pulling himself out of the pool and reaching for a towel.

You can't help but marvel at his swimmer's physique. Broad shoulders, a muscular back, and water trickling down his toned stomach. You catch yourself staring, and feel embarrassingly predatory with the way you just ogled him.

"Of course!" Your voice comes out squeaky. "Same here; I just wanted to get in some cardio before the campaign starts again."

"The pool's all yours, I just finished." He makes eye contact with you, offering a small smile as he reaches down and grabs his own bag from the floor.

"Thanks!" It's all you can muster up, and you have to push the bubble of disappointment down as he leaps back up the steps towards the exit. 

Perching at the side of the pool, you drop your bag and towel down and submerge yourself into the clarifyingly cold water, brushing aside everything but the feeling of your body moving through the water.

The energy around the Olympic Village is electric, buzzing with the anticipation of the day ahead. You can feel it in the air, in the quick, purposeful strides of athletes and the hurried conversations between event organizers.

As you finish your quick meal in the communal dining area, Hu Chunho’s voice crackles over the loudspeakers, calling all the participants to gather at the main event area. You can feel your heart rate pick up, your body already thrumming with the adrenaline that had become so familiar over the past day.

Rather than travelling by car, all the pairs are given a map of the city and offered clues to find specific landmarks or hidden spots around Tokyo.

Peering over at the map of the team next to you, you note that their clues are different to your own.

"I think we might all have different tasks," You say, looking from the map to Mingyu. He hums a note of understanding.

You look back down at your first clue.

'Where the world converges under neon lights, countless footsteps create a symphony of chaos and order. Stand where five paths meet and become part of Tokyo's heartbeat.'

"Oh, I know what this is!" Mingyu exclaims, a grin gracing his features. "It's Shibuya Crossing - the converging paths and neon lights. It has to be!"

You feel yourself smiling back at him, a spike of pride at his quick wit.

"You're right, I'm sure of it. Let's get going now!" You reply with excited glee.

With the destination clear in your minds, you and Mingyu waste no time. You quickly gather your things and set off toward the nearest subway station. The map in your hands outlines the general route, but Mingyu’s familiarity with the city helps you navigate through the bustling streets more efficiently.

The journey is a blur of fast-paced steps and fleeting glimpses of Tokyo’s vibrant city life. As you near Shibuya, the energy in the air intensifies. The streets grow more crowded, the buildings taller, and the lights brighter. When you finally arrive at Shibuya Crossing, the sight before you is both exhilarating and overwhelming.

The crossing is as chaotic and mesmerising as you imagined. Hundreds of people are waiting at the edges, ready to surge forward the moment the lights change. Neon signs tower above, flashing advertisements in a dazzling array of colours. It’s the epitome of organized chaos—a perfect reflection of Tokyo’s heartbeat.

“Here we are,” Mingyu says, his voice filled with awe as he takes in the scene. “It’s even more intense than I remember.”

You nod, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Yeah, this is incredible. But what’s our next step? We’re here, but I’m sure we need to do something to complete the task.”

Mingyu pulls out the next clue, which had been tucked under the first. “‘Capture the moment where the world pauses and moves in perfect harmony. Your time in the spotlight will guide you to the next step.’”

You exchange a glance, both of you quickly understanding the challenge. “We need to take a photo or video of the crossing,” you suggest. “But it’s more than just capturing the chaos—we need to find that moment of perfect harmony.”

The two of you wait, watching the flow of people, searching for that precise moment when the crossing becomes a symphony of movement. After a few cycles of the lights changing, you finally see it—a brief pause when all the pedestrians are perfectly aligned in their crossings, creating a visual harmony that’s almost surreal.

“Now!” Mingyu says, raising his phone to capture the scene. You run into the centre of the crossing, spreading your arms up in the air and grinning as wide as you can before running back towards a chuckling Mingyu.

"Getting more into the spirit of things, huh?" He teases, and you feel your cheeks turning red.

"More points for a viral moment." You remind him playfully, feeling that familiar elevated pace as he smiles back at you.

You take a moment to appreciate the photo before Mingyu checks the time on his phone. “We should send this in to confirm we’ve completed the task. I think they’ll give us our next clue once we do.”

With a nod, you send off the photo, your heart still racing with the thrill of the moment.

Mingyu’s phone buzzes with a new notification. He checks it and grins, showing you the screen. “Looks like we’re moving on to the next location. Ready to keep going?”

You smile, the excitement in your chest bubbling over. “Absolutely. Let’s see where this adventure takes us next.”

'Where giants clash in a ring of honour, find the arena where tradition and strength reign supreme. Seek the sacred ground where wrestlers bow to ancient rituals and the thundering footsteps echo the spirit of Japan’s warriors.'

"Wait," you say, your eyes lighting up as you reread the clue. "Do we get to go to the sumo wrestling arena?"

Mingyu looks up from the clue, his own excitement building as he connects the dots. “Ryogoku Sumo Hall! That has to be it. The 'ring of honour' and 'giants clashing'—it’s definitely talking about sumo wrestling!”

With your destination clear, you both set off, navigating through the bustling streets of Tokyo. The journey takes you deeper into the heart of the city, where the modern skyscrapers slowly give way to more traditional structures. The closer you get to Ryogoku, the more the city's energy seems to shift.

The atmosphere around the hall is vibrant, with banners fluttering in the breeze and the faint sounds of drums echoing from within. It's as if the very air is charged with the spirit of the ancient sport.

As you and Mingyu step into the grand interior of Ryogoku Sumo Hall, you’re immediately struck by the rich history that permeates the space. The arena, with its towering roof and sacred dohyō at the centre, exudes a sense of reverence. You can almost hear the echoes of past matches and the cheers of crowds that have filled these seats over the years.

A guide approaches you with a warm smile, holding a scroll that seems fitting for the traditional setting. “Welcome to Ryogoku Sumo Hall,” she says. “Your task today is to immerse yourselves in the ancient traditions of sumo. You’ll be participating in a special challenge that combines both physical skill and cultural understanding.”

Mingyu and you exchange intrigued glances as the guide continues, “First, you’ll each don a mawashi, the traditional sumo belt. Then, you’ll enter the dohyō for a ceremonial shiko—this is the ritual leg-stomping exercise that all sumo wrestlers perform to purify the ring and demonstrate their strength.”

The guide gestures towards a small area where the costumes have been laid out for you. You both eagerly move to change, slipping into the mawashi with some assistance. It feels a bit awkward at first, but the sense of tradition and the significance of the garment quickly overtake any discomfort.

Once you’re ready, the guide leads you to the edge of the dohyō where a set of cameras and one of the event coordinators is waiting on the sidelines.

“The shiko involves raising your leg as high as you can and then stomping down forcefully,” the guide explains to you and the audience. “It symbolizes grounding yourself and dispelling any evil spirits. It’s as much about mental focus as it is physical strength.”

Mingyu steps into the ring first, his expression one of determined focus. He takes a deep breath, then lifts his leg high, bringing it down with a powerful stomp. The sound reverberates through the hall, and even from the sidelines, you can feel the intensity of the movement.

Encouraged by Mingyu’s performance, you follow suit. You step into the ring, feeling the cool clay beneath your feet. Taking a moment to centre yourself, you lift your leg, feeling the stretch in your muscles, and then bring it down with as much force as you can muster. The stomp resonates through the space, and for a moment, you feel totally connected to the earth of the theatre.

After completing the shiko, the guide smiles approvingly. “Well done,” she says. “For the final part of your task, you’ll need to demonstrate your understanding of the sumo rituals by performing a brief reenactment of the pre-match ceremonies. This includes the ritual clapping, salt-throwing, and bowing. It’s important to show respect and precision in each movement.”

You and Mingyu work together to recall the steps you’ve observed from past sumo matches. As you move through the rituals—clapping your hands sharply to summon the attention of the gods, throwing salt to purify the ring, and bowing to show respect to your opponent—you feel ever more connected to Mingyu. 

As you finish the task, the guide hands you a small, ceremonial fan, a symbol of your successful completion of the challenge. “You’ve shown great respect and enthusiasm for our traditions,” she says. “Your next clue will lead you to your following adventure in Tokyo. But for now, take a moment to appreciate the history you’ve become a part of.”

You and Mingyu exchange a look of mutual pride, before offering one last wave to the audience and going to take off the costume.

Exiting the sumo hall through the front entrance, you hear a ding on your phone and pull it out to reveal the third clue. 

'Where the flame of unity is rekindled, and the world’s eyes gather once more. Seek the grounds where champions are crowned, and the spirit of competition ignites the heart of Japan.'

"Back to the Olympic stadium?" Mingyu queries, looking over the clue.

"Sounds like it," You say, still uncertain. The clue's language is undeniably pointing back to the arena, but you're unsure of what could be waiting for you back at the beginning.

With the Tokyo National Stadium as your destination, the two of you pick up the pace, heading back through the city. The streets are familiar now, and the route to the stadium is etched into your memory from the many times you’ve travelled to and from the venue.

Stepping into the stadium, you spot two of the over teams already waiting in one corner of the track field, and make your way over to them.

"Guess we're all here for the final task?" Chunghee beams.

Taking a moment, you look around the stadium, completely soaking in the atmosphere. In a few weeks, you'll be back walking here with your whole team, representing your country. The sense of awe and pride has you feeling small under the arena lights.

Soon enough, the rest of the teams begin to filter into the stadium.

Feeling a presence behind you, you spin around expecting to see Mingyu. A smile breaks over your face as you see your other teammate walking up to you.

"Didn't catch you last night. Did you finally get that night in?" Wonwoo chuckles. His clothes are dirty, as if he's been rolling around in the mud somewhere.

"Not quite," You respond, a ghost of a smile flickering at your lips.

"Cryptic."

"Gotta keep you on your toes, haven't I?"

"Please, you're about as predictable as the sunrise." He teases, and you bat his arm in mock offence.

"You wouldn't be able to guess what I was doing if you tried." You retort.

"Oh, really? It wouldn't have something to do with the hunky swimmer that hasn't let you out of his sight since you got here?"

You feel your cheeks warm at Wonwoo's teasing, but quickly regain your composure, rolling your eyes in response. "Oh, please," you say, crossing your arms playfully. "You're just jealous of me and Mingyu's great teamwork."

Wonwoo smirks, clearly not buying your casual deflection. "Uh-huh, sure. But just so you know, you're not as subtle as you think." He winks, making you groan in mock frustration.

"Come on, Wonwoo, can we just focus on the tasks and not whatever wild theories you're cooking up in that head of yours?" You protest with a lightness to your tone.

He chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll back off. But if I were a betting man, I'd put money on you two spending last night together. He's practically glowing today."

You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile. "Maybe it's you who's got the crush."

"I have it on good authority that I'm not the one with the crush."

"What's that supposed to mean-"

"Hey, man, ready for the final challenge?" Before you can finish your sentence, Wonwoo turns around to greet Mingyu who's walked over to the pair of you, but not without shooting you a knowing look first.

Mingyu nods, glancing at you with a smile. "Absolutely. What have you two been talking about?"

"Just catching up," You reply quickly, giving Wonoo a look that says to keep his mouth shut.

Wonwoo laughs, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder. "Yeah, nothing important. Let’s just say I’m curious to see how this day pans out."

The event coordinators hand you over the final task - although the course at the middle of the arena has already given the game away.

The last challenge of the day was revealed to be an intense relay race. Each team member would have to compete a different leg of the course, each designed to play to different strengths. The course was a mix of speed, agility, and sheer endurance - sprints though tight obstacle courses, balance tests on narrow means, and a gruelling final leg that involve scaling a steep incline with a weighted sack of rice together.

"Hey, so, how do you wanna play this?" Mingyu calls out, huddling next to you as to conceal your planning from the other teams. The warmth from his body next to you makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"Uh, um, I'm amenable. Is there a particular part you'd rather do?" You cough, looking over the course with an analytical eye.

"Your balance is undoubtedly better than mine, so maybe you should do the beam and I'll do the sprints?" He replies and you nod in agreement.

"That makes sense to me!" You smile before taking your phone from your pocket to take a photo of the two of you. "Gotta keep up the socials, right?"

Mingyu shakes his head in surprise, a small laugh escaping him.

"You must have had a good teacher." 

You wink at him in response, and instantly feel the blush creeping back up your neck.

Looking around, you see the other teams still huddled together, getting ready and planning their strategies.

"So, uh, you and Wonwoo are close right?" Mingyu asks, the confident air to his tone noticeably lacking.

"Oh, yeah! We were in the same climbing club when we were younger - made it right to the top together." You smile, thinking back over the memories. "You know, one time, we both got stuck on this insanely tough route. Everyone else had given up, but not Wonwoo. He was determined to figure it out, and I obviously couldn't let him be the only one to finish, so we stayed there for hours. Eventually, we worked together to figure out the route, and we managed to do it. I swear, he more than anyone else taught me the value of perseverence, even if it was out of spite."

Mingyu listens intently, his expression softening as he watches the nostalgia play across your face. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot together."

“Yeah, we have,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “He’s like a brother to me. We’ve always had each other’s backs, no matter what.”

Mingyu nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really cool. It’s good to have someone to bring you back to earth."

"-to the starting positions! The team that performs best across all challenges will be crowned the champions. But remember, this is also about raising awanress and funds, to keep the energy high and the spirits up!"

“Ready?” Mingyu’s voice breaks through the announcement, and you look up to see him watching you, a question in his eyes.

 “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The whistle blows, and the first leg of the relay begins. Mingyu takes off like a shot, his powerful strides eating up the ground as he navigates the winding course with ease. You watch him, your heart in your throat, feeling that familiar pressure being assauged by pride.

When it gets to your turn, you sprint up to the balance beam, forcing yourself to block out the noise of the crowd and focus solely on the task ahead. The beam is narrow, barely wider than your foot, and it wobbles slightly with every step you took. Every muscle in your body is tense, coiled like a spring, ready to react to the slightest imbalance, but you are in your element.

As you near the end of the beam, the crowd’s cheers grow louder, and you feel a surge of triumph as you leap off, landing smoothly on the other side. No time to celebrate, though—there is still the final climb ahead.

Running over to where Mingyu is waiting at the base of the incline, you begin to hoist the rice sacks over your shoulders, exchanging a determined nod before starting the final ascent. The incline is steep, and with the added weight of the sacks, every step becomes a test of endurance and strength. You focus on your breathing, matching your pace with Mingyu’s, both of you pushing each other to keep going despite the burning in your legs.

As you near the top, you catch sight of another team struggling halfway up the incline. One of their members has slipped, and their sack has tumbled down, spilling some of its contents. The other teammate is desperately trying to help, but it’s clear they’re exhausted and frustrated, their progress slow.

Mingyu notices too, glancing at you with a question in his eyes. “It's your call.” he says, his voice tight with effort.

You hesitate, the competitive part of you screaming to keep going, to push through and secure your victory. But another part of you, a bigger part, tugs at your conscience. You know what you have to do.

“Let’s help them,” you say, making the decision in a heartbeat.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and start making your way back down the incline. Mingyu follows without hesitation, both of you quickly reaching the struggling team. You offer a hand to the fallen teammate, helping them back to their feet, while Mingyu retrieves the spilled sack.

You can hear the live stream commentator yelling frenzily into the mic.

“Here, we’ve got this,” you say, as you and Mingyu steady their loads and start guiding them up the incline. The other team looks at you with a mix of surprise and gratitude, clearly touched by the gesture.

The climb is slower now, and you can feel the weight of the rice sacks digging into your shoulders, but there’s a different kind of satisfaction growing in your chest. When you finally reach the top, you help the other team place their sacks down before doing the same with yours. The other team thanks you breathlessly, clearly overwhelmed by your assistance.

As you all cross the finish line together, you know you’ve lost the race, but the sense of accomplishment in doing the right thing far outweighs the sting of defeat. The crowd’s cheers are louder than ever, and you can see that many of the spectators have noticed what you did.

Trying to regain your composure, you look over at Mingyu who is looking back at you with an affectionate smile.

"We didn't win." He pants, causing you to let out a sharp, breathless laugh.

Stepping closer, you place a steading hand on his arm. He looks up at you from his crouched over position, before moving to straighten up. Whether it is the adrenaline of the climb, or the confidence from your conversation with Wonwoo, you don't move away this time.

"I know," You smile, eyes sparkling. "I still feel like I've won something though."

"Oh, really?" He replies, moving closer still as that infamous grin breaks out across his face.

"Yeah." You nod, closing the gap between the two of you.

"You wanna make a real viral moment?" Mingyu asks, his tone light and jovial but his eyes conveying a sense of seriousness.

"You know what, I would actually quite like to." You respond, pushing onto your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. Although you can hear the screams of the fans and other athletes alike behind you, the sound quickly fades into the background as the immense feeling of passion and joy overtakes you.

HIs hand cups your face, pulling you closer to him as his lips move against yours.

Finally breaking apart, he rests his head against yours, shallow breaths being exchanged between the two of you.

"You know that this is gonna make tabloid headlines tomorrow, right?"

[helenanell]

A Breath Of Life || Part Two

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 Part One 

Pairing(s) :  Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi - Reader x Art x Tashi

CW: MDNI - Smut. Infidelity (kind of?). So much love and lust. ANGST. Manipulative behaviour. 

Notes: Fem!Reader, No use of y/n. This is really just me exploring my own bisexual panic some more.  Spoilers for the film.

Wordcount: 4.2K

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The moment you won the match that sealed your victory at Wimbledon,  the applause was rapturous.

And yet, Tashi’s triumphant shout was louder to you than hundreds of clapping hands. 

The sound of her celebration became yours, and when you let out a yell of your own, your racket falling from your hands, you became one with her. 

After that, her eyes did not leave you. You didn’t look but you knew it to be true, just as you knew the sun was shining onto your shimmering skin; Tashi was an incomprehensible being bearing down on you. 

When you lifted the Venus Rosewater Dish above your head–the silver trophy given to the women’s single’s winner–your smile was beatific. Not because of the rush of adrenalin, or the way your spirit had been buoyed by finally achieving what you knew you could, but feared you wouldn’t, but because you knew that in your victory Tashi had found her own. 

It had taken over a decade, but together you’d realised your dream. 

You knew deep down that you could have made it without her, but it would have been tasteless; a honeyed feast turning to ash in your mouth.

Achieving the title with Tashi by your side had turned everything technicolour. All of your senses were heightened and your sense of self revitalised. 

You lived for tennis and Tashi had helped that life become something glorious. 

When you stepped off the court it felt like a kind of conquest: your domain now stretched beyond the white lines that had so far confined you. You had taken more than a trophy, you had stolen space in people’s consciousness.

 You would not fade into the annals of time because your name had been recorded- it was to be engraved in metal which would be buffed into an unmissable shine. 

Even as you stepped into the plush locker room, you knew the winning moment was already being replayed and analysed. It made you smile to think that as commentators noted your form, they were publicly voicing the effects of Tashi’s coaching on you, to the entire world. 

You felt burned by her, but not as if she had branded you, rather that she had subjected you to such heat, that the very makeup of your body had been altered. 

Now, you're sitting on the wooden bench in the locker room with your head hanging low, sweat still dripping from your face when the door opens. 

You shoot to your feet, your beleaguered body screaming at you to slow down.

When you turn, you find Art standing in front of the now closed door. 

The sight of him takes away your breath. 

He is here too. 

In your greatest moment of euphoria, when you’ve never felt more tangible–more real–you get to be near him. Suddenly, all of the time that had passed between you didn’t matter.

He's with you now. 

Art leans back against the door, hands going into the pockets of his immaculate navy pants. A matching blazer that has been left unbuttoned stretches across his muscled torso, his sunglasses hanging from the neck of his white shirt. 

His cropped blonde hair is messy enough that you know he's been running his hands through it; with anxiety and elation he’d been dragging fingers through the blonde locks as he watched you play.  

Art has become something beyond handsome to you. Retiring has returned his vitality and it has been a stunning metamorphosis to witness. 

But it's change you’ve made yourself witness from a distance. The two of you have not been in a room alone together since he’d hidden in your bathroom as Tashi had convinced you to let her become your coach. 

For the first few months, things had felt far too fragile to acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. You and Art had come to a silent understanding that you needed the time to build back up a foundation with Tashi. 

If you were to remain in each other's lives, you needed solid ground.

But you had just won Wimbledon. You had just given Tashi a victory. Did either of you have the fortitude to go on denying yourselves? 

It has been a solid minute since Art entered the room and neither of you have shifted so much as an inch.

You’re fixed on the spot, watching him as he drinks you in. His gaze is laying possessive claim to your body, noting all the places the white vest and skort are clinging to your sweat-slicked curves. 

But it is when his eyes settle on your face, that a sort of peace soothes his expression.

“You were amazing.”

You can’t help but smirk, allowing yourself to feel cocky for once. “Of course I was, I won.” 

Art’s cheeks dimple with the strength of his grin.

“It’s not about the win. It’s how you moved when you played- like you could bend the whole world to your will. It was so beautiful. And you…” He pushes off the door and walks right up to you, chests almost brushing as he nudges your chin up with his finger. “You are so, so stunning.”

As he leans in, even though you don’t try to stop him, words of weak protest pour out of you.

“Art we shouldn’t. Not here-“

He cuts you off with a taunting kiss, his tongue trying to prize your lips open as his arm wraps around you.

His hand shifts up the sweaty material of your vest and lays his palm flat against the heated flesh of your lower back, all while his other hand trails up your outer thigh and beneath your skort to grab your ass.

You lean into him, hands wrapping around his neck and only when he draws back to kiss his way along your jaw, do you have a chance to speak again.

“Art, Tashi will be here soon. If she sees-“ 

“She won’t care.” 

Your brow furrows, but the confusion isn’t enough for you to stop his lips moving over your neck. “What?” 

As Art answers, his hand leaves your rear to dip beneath the waistband of your skort. You shiver as the pads of his fingers tickle all the way down, toying with the top of your underwear.

“You are all Tashi sees now.” Art clarifies, proceeding to nip at your exposed shoulder with his teeth. “You’re her everything. She could walk in on us right now and it wouldn’t change a thing.”

That gives you pause, indignation spiking at his easy dismal of Tashi.

You pull away from Art and he groans quietly but lets you go, his expression remaining completely content. 

“How can you say that?” You ask, growing irritable even as you let him take your hand in his.

“Because you’re everything that I couldn’t be for her.” He says. 

You sigh exasperatedly. “What does that mean, Art?” 

You don’t know why you’re asking, as you’re certain you already know the truth of it.

Art smiles, his other hand lifting to smooth a few sweat slicked strands off of your forehead. When he’s finished, his fingers settle with running over your cheekbone.

“It means…that you are all of her dreams realised. She resented me because every time I played, no matter how well, she knew it was nowhere near as important to me as it would have been to her had she never been injured. She hated me for not wanting it more….but, you have enough passion for tennis to play for the both of you. I never had that much to draw from. So, as long as you keep winning like you just did, she’ll love you. She’ll love you because you’re doing her justice.” 

After giving that insight that rang so true it almost hurts your ears with its incessant clamouring, Art leans in to kiss you again. You place a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. 

“You felt like you were playing for her and it made you miserable.” You argue, hurt by the thought that his behaviour towards you is just rooted in gratitude that you have lifted the burden off of his shoulders. 

“It was different for me.” He answers simply. “I was miserable because I knew none of what I did was enough. I was still failing her. Tashi wants to watch great tennis and I didn’t give her that. You will. You are giving her that.” 

The way Art was speaking was producing within you a burgeoning unease; he was steady and assured, like he’d spent a long time thinking about this. And there was an undeniable undercurrent of pleasure to his speech.

A large part of Art was elated that the burden had been shifted onto you. 

But could you really hold that against him? You had seen how he was bending and breaking under the weight, it was why you’d told him to retire.

It was now your job to keep Tashi’s heart beating, you had known that the moment you’d agreed to let you coach her. That had been your choice and one freely made. 

So Art was right, you had to keep winning and you had to do so spectacularly. 

This was not a fresh revelation of course, but the possibility that Tashi wanting you close to her was entirely contingent on tennis, began to terrify you.

 You estimated you had a good five years left before you’d likely be forced to retire, but then what would become of you? Would Tashi even care to have you in her life after that? You were not bound to her like she was to Art by their daughter.

As if he can feel how your mind is whirring through the skin of your cheek, Art tips up your chin again and claims your mouth for another kiss. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing. 

“When I think about all that you are, tennis doesn’t even register.” He says sincerely, placing a sweet peck to your lips.

You cherish his touch and ach for more, but it isn’t quelling the panic ripping into your insides like wind whipping up in preparation to become a storm.

“Art, I can’t- I need to tell Tashi what happened with us.” 

No anger or irritation appears on his face at your blurted words, but his other hand falls onto your back so he can pull you closer and you can tell he’s definitely upset about something. 

“What happened?” He rasps. “You’re placing what we have in the past tense. Is it not still happening” His fingers press into your skin proprietorially. 

“I can’t lose her, Art. But I also can’t lose you.” 

“Then tell her.” He says,  bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. 

“You’re agreeing just like that? It’ll ruin your marriage.” 

His lip tugs up in the beginning of a bitter smile. “Tell her. It won’t change how she sees you.” he affirms “Then you should ask her about Patrick.”

You barely have time to process his implication when the door opens.

 The two of you pull apart as Tashi’s head pops in. She looks entirely unbothered as her eyes glance off her husband before settling squarely on you.

“Get in the shower, we’ve got to get moving.” 

And just like that she’s gone again.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

“Do you need him?” 

Tashi’s question catches you off guard.

You’ve both been sitting in silence- her nursing a glass of wine and you with herbal tea as you both look out across the London skyline. Lights of skyscrapers are strung out across the black like fairy lights. 

You know who she’s talking about, but you’re terrified to acknowledge it.

You stop yourself from giving into the instinct to peer back through the open sliding door and into the hotel room where Art is watching TV. 

“In what way?” You ask, fiddling with the handle of your mug, still looking forward. 

Tashi huffs, putting her glass down and then turning to you, kneeling beside you on the outdoor couch. She takes the mug out of your hand, setting it on the nearby table before curling her fingers around your chin and forcing you to meet her unflinching stare. 

“Will Art improve your game or will he wreck it?” She sees your eyes widen and shushes you, stymying the words that had been gathering on your tongue. “This isn’t about me. I’m your coach, so I need to know that you’re going to keep giving this your all.” 

“I will.” You nod furiously, still held in her grip.

Tashi’s eyes flicker down your lips before finding your eyes again. Her hair is loose and being blown into your face. 

“I need you to tell me that if he’s watching you in the stands, that you won’t choke.” She says. “What the two of you have needs to light a fire in you, or it fucking dies. Do you understand me?” 

“I won’t choke.” You insist, your tone hard.

Her full lips press into a pleased line. “So are you going to keep dominating?” 

Slightly breathless, your eyes fall to where your fingers have been absentmindedly brushing her knee. You let your digits outstretch and as your eyes return to Tashi’s, you tentatively run them over her scar. You feel her shiver. 

“I’m going to keep dominating.” 

You both go still, and just as the corner of her mouth tugs up, she’s leaning in. You inhale a sharp breath as her lips just skim yours. She holds there, not pressing any further. 

When Tashi speaks, you feel her lips form the words against your own. “Then you do whatever it takes.” 

You truly couldn’t say which of you closes the distance, it feels more like an external, undeniable force driving the two of you to converge.

 When Tashi begins to move her lips against yours, her hand cradles the back of your head, twisting into your hair and pulling. You can’t help but let out a soft moan into her mouth, a hand landing on her waist and digging into the thin fabric of her silk shift.

Tashi draws back first, her hot breaths on your face as she presses two fingers to your throbbing lips. 

The question that comes out of your mouth has no malice or jealousy behind it, just an aching curiosity: you want to know her completely, in the way that you used to, and Art’s words from the locker room told you there was something you don’t know. 

“Tashi, what happened between you and Patrick?” 

She doesn’t rear back, she doesn’t slap you like she might have, she just lets out a slow almost contented breath.  

“I slept with him.” She admits calmly. “A few years ago in Atlanta, and the night before the Challenger match against Art.” 

All at once the visceral passion of that match makes so much more sense and even though you’re aware how twisted it is, you laugh. 

“You forced them to have the best match of their lives.” You say, your tone warring between disbelief and awe. 

Tashi answers with another brief, but ardent kiss to your lips, before she’s rising to her feet, her demeanour steady. Her expression is already returning to the stern set of your coach. 

“You need to get to bed. It’s a busy day tomorrow. Your physiotherapist is here at eight am. Nutritionist at eight-thirty.” 

You nod in agreement, lips still tingling as you rise to your feet. 

The night breeze stirs your hair and the thin fabric of your robe. Only when you turn do you see Art leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest, the fabric of his grey shirt strained against his muscles. 

When you meet his gaze he smiles so fondly that, combined with the residual heat of Tashi’s contact, you’re set ablaze. 

Right now you have both of them.

“Stay here with us.” Tashi asserts, running a hand over Art’s arm as she passes him to head inside the room.

“No need for you to go wandering down the hall in your nightgown again.” Art continues, the corner of his lips lifting as he holds a hand out to you.

You take it, letting him draw you inside. 

When the two of you reach the massive Queen bed, Art pulls back the sheets and you crawl happily into the middle of the mattress. 

All at once your exhaustion hits you, the softness cradling your aching form both lulling you into drowsiness and making your limbs remember each strained movement of the day.  

Your eyes fall shut, so you’re not sure who it is who causes the bed to dip, but you lean into the warmth irregardless. 

Art’s toned arm wraps around your torso as he draws the back of your body to be flush with his front.  He’s already pulling hair away from your neck and laying lingering kisses there, when movement in front of you causes your eyes to flutter open. 

Tashi’s standing in the bathroom doorway opposite you, her form backlit by the warm light as she finishes rubbing lotion to her arms.

 She watches Art holding you and she notes how he’s kissing you, a frenetic vibrancy takes over her expression. 

You hold her gaze as she switches the bathroom light and walks over. When she crawls under the covers, one of Art’s hands is moving past the neckline of your robe, his thumb running over your nipple. 

You sigh, your head falling back against Art’s chest, but your hand is moving forward across the mattress, searching for Tashi. 

It’s such a terrible idea-  an act that will join you all in another irrevocable way, but you have to have it. You have to have them. 

If you’re going to play tennis with Tashi as your coach and Art still in her life…you can’t choose. You can’t separate yourself from either of them. 

Your hand makes contact with Tashi’s as she lays herself right in front of you. She intertwines your fingers and leans down to kiss your chest, her lips skimming your collarbones. 

Art draws his hand away from your breast and his touch travels down your body, between your legs. 

You moan as Tashi’s mouth explores your chest, her tongue brushing over the swell of your breasts all while Art is pressing his knees between yours from behind. Now more open to him, he bunches your robe in his hand and rucks it up until it’s gathered at your waist. He pulls down your underwear.

When Art’s fingers begin to tease your centre, your gasp is lost as Tashi covers her mouth with yours, her free hand threading into your hair. 

Between the two of them, you find security in the ecstasy they draw out of you. Your entire body is flushed and sweating, cheeks red and chest heaving.

You’re beyond overwhelmed, but you try to savour every small touch and shift of their bodies.

Mostly you’re trying to remember the sensation of Tashi, because you have a feeling this may never happen again with her: even in your addled mind as Art begins to roll his hips, a finger pressing inside you, you’re aware that for Tashi this could simply be a form of motivation. You know that if she thought you needed this now, in order to keep playing the way you had today, then she’d do it without question. She’s motivating you.

 But is that all this is for her? It certainly means a lot more to you.

Tashi was the first woman you had been attracted to, the first person to make you question the limited nature of your desires as a young woman. And then she’d been your best friend, you’d loved and wanted her…and then you’d lost her. 

You both knew this wasn’t a sustainable dynamic, it would likely never be repeated, but for now you would savour being desired by the woman who had awoken yours so long ago. 

Right as Art presses another finger into you, plunging them the two in almost lazily, as if he has all the time in the world, he whispers in your ear: 

“Are you okay?” 

Tashi is still kissing you, but draws back when she hears the question, her lips plump and glistening. She’s giving you the chance to answer, you realise. 

The glorious tightness inside you worsens, friction growing as they stop touching you. 

“Yes.” You whine impatiently.

Art chuckles into your neck as you grab his wrist and guide him back into you, his fingers curling inside your warmth. 

But Tashi’s lips don’t return to yours, instead she leans down and presses them to your forehead before she’s crawling out of the bed.

You’re not worried by her retreat because you’ve always been able to read her face. As she backs away, your orgasm drawing closer as Art fucks into you with his fingers, you see that she isn’t regretting anything. In fact, she’s pleased. Not necessarily with what’s happening in front of her, but because Art–someone she has loved and still loves in her own way–can give you the intimacy she can’t quite bring herself to. 

You play tennis for Tashi and Art loves you for both of them. You think you can live with that.

 Even though you know you could, you don’t begrudge Tashi for any of it. She’s given you this. She’s given you Art and in as much as she can, she’s given you herself. 

As she slips out of the room, no doubt to go to her Mother’s suite and to her daughter, you are entirely content. 

Once you’re alone, you buck up into Art’s hand, your ass grinding against his hardness. He groans deeply against your neck and you almost cry out in protest as he pulls his fingers from right when you’re so close to release. 

But you are not left bereft of him for long. His arm moves beneath you, bracketing your chest with his hand and settling with a soft grip against your throat. He pushes down his pyjama pants.

It’s all too much when he begins to tease his hardness against your core. 

“Art. Now.” You reach down and dig your nails into his now bare thigh with force. 

As his grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, Art complies and pushes himself into you from behind. He sounds drunk as he whispers into your hair:

“This will never be enough.” He thrusts into you with sweet slowness, letting you feel every tiny thing. “I’ll never have enough of you.” 

So lost in the pressure of him moving inside you that you’re alienated from your capacity for speech, you can’t find the language to tell him how this feels for you; you can’t tell him how much it means. 

Then he speaks again, his movements becoming more forceful: “I’ll never have all of you will I?”

You whimper as his hand that’s not on your neck dives between your legs, adding pressure with his fingers even as he fucks you.

“You do have all of me.” You answer raggedly, relinquishing free movement entirely as he cradles your body so restrictively.

He’s like a snake, tingling around your form before consuming your entire being.

“Tell me it wouldn’t change anything if it was just us.” Art begs, his breath catching in his throat and body shaking. “Tell me I’d be enough for you.” 

He thrusts again and you almost break with your shuddering release. You don’t try to remain quiet, crying out into the night. Art continues to move in you, desperate in more ways than one. 

“I can’t Art.” You admit, tears of pleasure and a sweet sort of pain gathering in your eyes. “I can’t tell you that. We need- we need them. B-both of them.” You stutter out, relinquishing yourself to your euphoria. 

Them. Them being Tashi and Patrick.

 You don’t understand Art without either of them. You don’t understand yourself without them. 

Everything was in relation to them, even the sex you and Art are having right now isn’t just about the two of you. And you both know it.

An indecipherable noise comes from Art as he pulls out of you, and in a blink, he’s rolled you onto your back and is pressing himself into you again.

His pace becomes rapid as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, hips snapping against yours.

You wrap your legs around him, driving him deeper as his body begins to tremble.

When Art comes apart, draping himself over you as he gathers himself, a tear of utter confusion rolls down your cheek and falls into his hair. 

Whatever comes next, at least you know you’ll never be alone. Art is a part of you. Tashi and Patrick are part of you. 

Without each other, there is no survival.

[footballfanficwriter]

Prise giving ceremony

Summary:Jude and the reader are invited for their children's prize giving Ceremony

"Jude c'mon we're gonna be late" I say

"Yeah, I'm coming" he says, he takes my hand and we make it out the front door

"I've already spoken to mum she says they'll meet us there, cause they need to get a few things before the Ceremony starts" He says

"Are your parents going to be there?"

"I don't know honestly, but it would be really Nice if they showed up, it would mean so much to the kids if they did"

"Hey don't worry, even if they don't show up, I'm sure it will still be fun"

"Yeah"

" how many awards do you think the kids will get?"

"I don't know, besides, I don't care I'll be proud of them either way"

"Yeah, me too, But you know how they are, they always want to be top achievers in everything they do"

"I think they get that from the both of us to be honest"

"I don't always strive to be a top achiever"

"Yes you do Jude"

"How?"

"What about that time after one of your matches and you didn't play the way you wanted to, were you not having a fit?"

"I did not"

"Babe you did"

"Well you're also like that"

"Oh I already know I strive to be a top achiever, I'm not going to deny who i am"

"Whatever" he says rolling his eyes

"But I'm sure the genes didn't spread to our kids, right?"

"Yeah, no that is a lie, our children are so competitive it worries me sometimes"

"You're overreacting"

"Oh, am I?"

"Yeah you are"

"Remember that time when Julian, lost his football game and he got so upset he wouldn't even eat his dinner?, or what about the time Julia didn't get first prize for her 1200m run, and she nearly fought the girl who did, need I go on?"

"Alright you've made your point"

"Thank you"

We arrive at the school and Jude parks the car, he walks out of the car and comes around my side to open my door

"Thank you"

"It's a pleasure babe"

"You actually look beautiful in that outfit you know"

"Really, you like it?"

"I love it"

Jude has a black turtleneck on, with a suit Jacket, black slacks and dress shoes and a silver Rolex watch, while I have on a black dress that reaches just past my knees, with a criss cross back and a slight low V cut in the front, matched with a pair of black heels a gold necklace, gold earrings and my wedding ring

As we enter the venue we see people taking pictures, no dought that these pictures will be on the internet by the time the ceremony is over

When we enter the venue we find Denise,Mark and Jobe sat in the second row behind all the teachers and principals, we make our way to where they are sitting and greet them

"Mom we're here" Jude says

They turn their heads towards us and stand up

"Hi Darling, you alright" Denise says greeting me and coming in for a hug

"Yeah mom, I'm alright"

"Aren't you proud"

"Very proud"

Mark taps my shoulder getting my attention

"Hey" he says coming in for a hug

"Hi dad, how've you been?"

"I'm alright"

I greet Jobe and give him a brotherly hug while he daps Jude up

We all take our seats with me sandwiched in between Jude and Denise and Mark sitting next to Denise and Jobe

The MC starts the program and the school choir sings the school song, after that the MC starts her opening speech

"Good evening everyone, we're so grateful for your presence here tonight, thank you for coming to celebrate the children who have undoubtably worked hard to achieve these achievements, without further ado let's get started, I would like to call on Mrs. Clinton to come and present the awards"

Mrs. Clinton walks onto the stage and greets everyone

"Good evening everyone, I am here in front of you all to present the special awards to the children, the first award is awarded to the most creative student, Jessica James"

Everyone claps for Jessica as she walks onto the stage to get her award

"Why does she walk like that" Jude asks

"Don't Judge other people's kids Jude"

"Next, this award is for the most kindest and caring student who always puts other's needs before their own, this award is awarded to Ronald Johnson"

People clap for Ronald and  he collects his award

"Those are some big glasses he's got on" he says as he fists his hands making a hole in between each hand and putting each fisted hand on each eye

"Jude, stop" I say tying to hold my laugh in

"Next this award is for the most improved student, who has improved either academically or Socially, having had a hard start when they first arrived in the school and to adapting the school's culture, this award is given to Melissa Hall"

Melissa collects her award and we all clap for her

"Now lastly this award is a prestigious one and is a shared by two students, this award is for the most ambitious and Hardworking students, Julia and Julian Bellingham"

Both Julia and Julian walk onto stage to get their shared award, I turn to my right to see Mark filming Every moment

Jude and I stand up so both of them can see us, they see us and wave and we return the gesture by smiling and waving

Next they announce that they'll be announcing the prizes for the year 1s ( first graders)

Which is Julian and Julia's year (grade)

"We will first start with the year 1s and their achievements" the MC Says

"I would like to call Mrs. Madden to the stage to present the Awards"

Mrs. Madden walks onto the stage, greets the audience, and continues Jude gives me a side eye as if to say "look at her outfit" Mrs. Madden has on an old looking cardigan and a pair of baggy trousers, bright red glasses and Pebbles/stones for Jewelry "Good evening, everyone. It's my pleasure to present the awards for the Year 1 students. These young minds have shown remarkable dedication and enthusiasm throughout the year. First, we'll start with the award for Excellence in Mathematics, which goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

The audience erupts in applause as Julian confidently strides to the stage to accept his award. His smile is radiant, and his eyes gleam with pride.

"That's my boy," Jude whispers to me, his face beaming with pride. I squeeze his hand, sharing in the moment of joy.

Julian accepts his award, posing for a quick photo before returning to his seat.

"Next, the award for Outstanding Performance in English goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia, not to be outdone by her brother, walks gracefully to the stage, her expression one of quiet confidence. The applause is even louder this time, with our family cheering her on.

"I'm so proud of them," I say to Jude, my eyes welling up with tears of happiness.

"I know, me too," Jude replies, his voice full of emotion.

Julia accepts her award and waves at us again before taking her seat beside Julian.

Mrs. Madden continues, "The next award is for Excellence in Sports. This student has shown exceptional talent and dedication in various sports activities. The award goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

Julian gets up again, looking slightly embarrassed but very pleased as he accepts his second award. The applause is thunderous.

"He's going to need a bigger shelf for all these awards," Jude jokes, making me laugh.

"And finally," Mrs. Madden announces, "the award for Leadership and Teamwork goes to a student who has demonstrated exceptional leadership skills and the ability to work well with others. This award goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia stands up for the second time, her face glowing with pride. She walks to the stage, collects her award, and waves once more, her smile brighter than ever.

As the ceremony concludes, the children are invited to take pictures with their families. Jude and I rush to the front to congratulate our kids, enveloping them in big, proud hugs.

"You both did amazing!" I say, kissing each of their foreheads.

"We're so proud of you," Jude adds, ruffling Julian's hair and hugging Julia tightly.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad!" they both say, their faces glowing with happiness.

Denise, Mark, and Jobe join us, offering their congratulations. Denise takes out her phone and suggests, "Let's get a family picture to remember this moment."

We gather together, with Julian and Julia holding their awards proudly. As the camera clicks, I can't help but think about how lucky we are to have such amazing children and a loving, supportive family.

"Alright, let's go celebrate!" Jude announces, lifting Julian onto his shoulders. And me taking Julia into my arms, planting a kiss onto her cheek then her forehead

"Yeah, ice cream for everyone!, Say goodbye to your grandparents and Uncle Jobe" I add, placing Julia back down then holding her hand

"Bye nana" Julia Says as she hugs her grandmother

"Goodbye my Darling, I'm so proud of you, and you as well Julian" Denise says as she hugs the both of them

We continue saying our goodbyes and walk them to their car and we start making way to our car as well

as we make our way out of the venue, hearts full and spirits high.

The evening is a perfect blend of pride, love, and celebration, and as we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, I know that this is a day we will cherish forever.

As we walk to the car, Jude spots another kid and nudges me. "Look at that kid's bowtie. It's bigger than his head."

I laugh, nudging him back. "Jude, be nice!"

"And that one," he whispers, nodding towards a girl with a massive hair bow. "Is she trying to take flight with that thing?"

"Stop it!" I giggle, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Alright, alright," he says, chuckling. "But you have to admit, this is entertaining."

"You're terrible," I say, still laughing. "But I love you anyway."

"I love you too," he replies, pulling me close and kissing my forehead. "Now, let's go get some ice cream."

We pile into the car, the kids chattering excitedly about their awards in the backseat. Jude starts the engine and we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, the mood in the car light and joyful.

As we arrive and park, Jude turns to me with a playful smile. "You know, I was just thinking..."

"Uh-oh, should I be worried?" I tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," he laughs. "But seriously, what if Julian and Julia go into comedy? They seem to have a knack for entertaining, just like their old man."

"Oh, really? So now you're a comedian?" I say, laughing.

"Well, I did make you laugh, didn't I?" he retorts, winking.

We all get out of the car and head into the parlor, the kids rushing ahead to choose their favorite flavors. Jude and I follow more slowly, holding hands and enjoying the moment.

As we enter the ice cream parlor, the sweet aroma of freshly baked waffles and scoops of ice cream fills the air. Julian and Julia rush towards the display of flavors, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"Mom, Dad, look at all the choices!" Julia exclaims, pointing excitedly.

"Yeah, Dad, they even have that weird green one you like," Julian adds with a grin.

Jude chuckles. "Hey, mint chocolate chip is a classic! Don't knock it till you've tried it."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You and your adventurous taste buds."

"Just trying to keep things interesting," he replies with a wink.

We join the kids at the counter, scanning the menu for our own favorites. Julian opts for a towering sundae while Julia goes for a colorful cone with sprinkles.

"I think I'll go for something simple today," I say, eyeing a scoop of strawberry cheesecake.

Jude nudges me. "Oh, come on, live a little! How about a triple scoop with all the works?"

I laugh. "I'll leave that to you, Mr. Mint Chocolate Chip."

As we wait for our treats, Jude leans closer to me, his voice low. "Did you see that kid's hair over there? It looks like a bird's nest."

I stifle a laugh. "Jude! Be nice."

"I'm just observing," he insists, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know I can't resist a good hairstyle critique."

"Well, keep your critiques to yourself," I tease, trying not to giggle too loudly.

Our ice cream arrives, and we settle into a cozy booth. Julian and Julia dive into their treats with gusto, their faces quickly turning into a sticky mess of smiles and satisfaction.

Jude leans back, savoring his mint chocolate chip. "You know, I have to hand it to them. These kids really know how to enjoy life's simple pleasures."

"Like ice cream," I add, licking a stray drip from my cone.

"Exactly," he says, nodding. "I mean, who needs fancy dinners when you've got a scoop of your favorite flavor?"

"Or a tower of sundaes," I reply, gesturing towards Julian's creation.

We watch our kids laugh and talk between messy bites, their joy infectious. It's moments like these that remind me why I fell in love with Jude—the way he finds humor in everyday moments and brings out the best in our family.

As we finish our ice cream, Jude leans over and whispers, "That kid over there looks like he's trying to break the world record for fastest ice cream eater." He says eyeing the poor child that just seems to be really enjoying his ice cream

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself. "Jude, stop, what's wrong with you today and making fun of kids!" I manage to say between giggles.

He grins mischievously. "What? I'm just stating the obvious, and it's not like I'm saying it to their faces, how will they know I'm talking about them ?"

"You're terrible," I say, shaking my head, still laughing.

He chuckles softly. "But you love me anyway, right?"

"Of course," I reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Even when you're making fun of kids' hairstyles."

He squeezes my hand back, his eyes warm with affection. "I love you too, always."

We sit together in comfortable silence, watching our children and soaking in the happiness of this simple, perfect moment. As we prepare to leave, Jude leans over once more.

"Ready to head home, or should we challenge the kids to a rematch in mini golf?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Let's save that for another day. Right now, I think we've had enough excitement for one evening."

"Fair enough," he says, rising from the booth. "But don't think I won't take you up on that challenge someday."

I smile, knowing that whatever adventures lie ahead, we'll face them together—as partners, parents, and best friends.

"I love that idea," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "It's perfect."

As we sit there, enjoying our ice cream and each other's company, I realize that moments like these are what life is all about—love, laughter, and the simple joy of being together.

Jude takes a spoon of his ice cream  and leans back, content. "This is the life," he says, smiling at me and the kids. "I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Me neither," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Me neither."

The evening winds down with more laughter, stories, and plans for the future. As we drive home, the kids eventually fall asleep in the backseat, clutching their awards.

Jude looks over at me and smiles. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We did great," I reply, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "Our little achievers."

We pull into the driveway, and Jude gently carries Julian inside while I take Julia. We tuck them into bed, kissing their foreheads and whispering words of love and pride.

Back in our bedroom, Jude wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "Thank you for being my partner in this crazy, wonderful life," he says softly.

"Thank you for being mine," I reply, resting my head on his chest.

As we drift off to sleep, I can't help but feel incredibly grateful for this beautiful family we've built together—a family filled with love, humor, and endless possibilities.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Imitate Hoid

As requested by anon :)

I recently fulfilled another anon's request about Hoid imitating various Cosmere characters. This, I suppose, is a sort of sequel: now other characters must imitate Hoid. But don't worry! Hoid himself (or sometimes Design) is here to help.

[It's Hoid. There's SPOILERS for like every book in here but I'll mark which book is involved in case that helps]

1. [From Mistborn Era 1] Vin imitates "informant Hoid"

Hoid: Okay! There are three important rules for being a beggar informant! Hoid: One: look kinda gross. That way, people won't pay too much attention to you. Hoid: Two: pretend to have bad eyesight, so that they won't worry that you're paying too much attention to them. But don't pretend TOO hard, so that if they catch on to the fact that you're just acting, they'll feel superior and lower their guard. Hoid: Three: have actually good information so that you can push the pieces exaaactly where they need to go. Hoid: Any questions? Vin: Do you realize that I literally lived on the street for years? Hoid: Yes, yes, so you actually know how to BE a beggar, but do you know how to pretend to be a beggar? That's a much different thing! Vin: I understand why Kelsier steered me away from you.

2. [From Mistborn Era 2] Wax imitates "beggar Hoid"

Wax: I'm sorry; I have to drink WHAT? Hoid: Oh, so you'll drink metal-infused-whiskey all the time but you draw the line at drinking a little perfume? Wax: ... Wax: Yes?????

3. [From Stormlight] Kaladin imitates "storyteller Hoid"

Kaladin (in his best "Wit" voice): Do not fret young man--you may be hopeless and depressed, but I will tell you a story and that will fix everything! Kaladin: And by "tell you a story" I mean that you'll tell ME a story because you'll have to fill in my blanks like every three seconds! Kaladin: Oh and also! Here's an instrument you don't play. Don't lose it or else I'll guilt you about it later! Hoid: Hmmm...not a bad start, but it lacks...subtlety. Hoid: ...Also that was a really nice flute, you know.

4. [From Warbreaker] Siri imitates "storyteller Hoid"

Siri (throwing an enormous amount of colored sand into the air]: Whooosh! COLOR SAND Siri: [grins] How'd I do? Hoid [very serious, with colored sand plinking down onto his head]: So...that was the main takeaway, Princess? Susebron [clapping delightedly]: You're an amazing storyteller!!

5. [From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter] Painter imitates "coatrack Hoid"

Painter: So I just...lurk in the darkness over here? Perfectly still and brooding? I can do that. Design: Weeellll....it's not really "lurking" so much as "standing still while people put coats on you" and it's not "darkness" so much as it's "well lit so that people can find their coats." Painter: Can I at least strike an intimidating pose? Design: No, that's not really in the spirit of things. Hoid looked more "vaguely surprised." Painter: So I just stand there while people treat me as an inanimate object? Design: Yes! Exactly! Now just imagine that you're TRAPPED like that and try exude a sort of "sad but philosophic resignation." While also holding these coats. Yes! You're doing GREAT! Hoid: ...I thought this would help me see the humor in things but honestly I'm getting even more depressed.

6. [From Tress of the Emerald Sea] Tress imitates "cursed Hoid"

Tress (wearing the most ridiculous outfit she could find): It's me! Cabin boy Hoid! Tress: I may be wearing shoes on my hands, but I am actually trying really hard in my own way to achieve my own goals and help you achieve yours! Tress: No curse can steal from me my ability to make it through with the help of my new friends! Tress (in her regular voice): How'd I do?? Hoid (slightly choked up): F-Fine...

7. [From Elantris] Sarene imitates "beggar Hoid"

Hoid: Okay! There are three important rules for being a beggar! Sarene: You don't need to continue. It's obvious. Sarene: One: look gross so that people don't dare look at you too carefully. Sarene: Two: affect a harmless air--perhaps seem slightly mad or slightly blind--so that people will not worry that you might turn them in or otherwise betray them. Sarene: Three: position yourself so that you can achieve whatever aims you have in pretending to be a beggar in the first place. Sarene: How did I do? Hoid: I KNEW I liked you!

8. [From Secret History] Kelsier imitates "corpse-rafting Hoid"

Kelsier (singing in a mockingly off-tune way): Oh I'm float-float-floating on a coooorpse! Kelsier: Off to bully a ghooooost! Kelsier (in a normal voice): Wow! That ghost guy over there looks like he's having the absolute worst day of his life! Kelsier: I think I'll make it worse! Hoid: I'm not sure corpse/ghost could even be called a slant rhyme. Hoid: And in point of fact, I wasn't coming TO bully you; that was just a little side bonus that occurred by chance. Hoid: So I think your song is slightly misleading, and also bad. Kelsier: ...I can't wait until I have a body again so that I can punch you.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Twisters AU - Kara starts to heal

Kara isn't sure what she'd expected, walking into the Harding household. Somehow, a sea of pictures featuring Lena at various ages surrounded a motley crew of men and women at various degrees of cleanliness is somehow not, but also exactly what she expects. It feeds into the rough and tumble nature that Kara has come to associate with Lena, and as she peruses walls on her way back from the bathroom, she hears Lena's full belly laugh rolling from the kitchen. The photos and the warmth and the mirth all fuel the full presence that is Lena. Lena Harding, it would seem.

Lena's eyes flash to her when Kara steps back into the kitchen. Her gaze lingers a half-second longer than Kara expects, but before she can study it further Lena returns her attention to the frypan on which she's cooking a pair of eggs with sure, practiced flicks of her wrist.

"I was just telling mom about our most recent escapade," Lena tells her.

Kara scoffs a laugh, folding her arms as she leans against the kitchen island. "Which one? The fireworks or the misfire?"

"A misfire?" Jo arches an eyebrow at her daughter. "From Lena? Doesn't sound like any daughter I raised."

"Hardy har," Lena returns, her accent deepening in a way that makes Kara grin. "I let you have that one."

"Sure. I'll just pretend I didn't snoop on your comms and hear your crew teasing the shit out of you."

"Hah!" Jo barks, clapping her hands. "Oh, Lena, I like her!"

Kara flushes, unable to keep her chest from swelling with the compliment.

"I assume the guys are helping with the EF4 that touched down over in Rowena." Jo's voice softened, but remained matter of fact.

Kara's stomach drops, and a finger of ice curls down her spine. The memory of the night before chills the warmth that's built around her, tightening her chest and hitching her breath. When Lena quiets, Kara lifts her gaze, and their eyes lock across the room. Jo notes the beat, and nods.

"Front row seat?"

Lena exhales. "You could say that."

Kara expects Jo to warn about danger, perhaps echo an old argument about the inherent risk of chasing tornadoes, especially the kind of "wrangling" that Lena does. But none of that comes.

"They were lucky you were there."

Jo's response is so unexpected that Kara blinks, stunned. She looks to Lena, who gives a grim, close lipped smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Jo reaches out to her, cupping her daughter's cheek.

"The work you do is so important." Jo looks at Kara. "The work you both do. Not a lot of people see that. But I do."

Kara stares. "You do?"

Lena chuckles. "Oh yeah. You know Dorothy? That was mom."

"Wait, you--" Kara chokes out. "You're Jo-- You're that Harding? Of the Harding model?!"

"Guilty," Jo returns, not bothering to hide her smug smile. "Wasn't always a farmer."

"I developed my middle school science fair project based on your research!"

Lena cackles, earning a smack on the arm from her mother.

"Don't say that!" Jo exclaimed. "Like I need any more proof I'm getting older..."

"Oh, you're still young," Lena chides, craning back to give her mom a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, sorry, I mean-- all of my research is based on what you achieved with Dorothy."

Jo's eyebrow quirks. "Oh? What kind of research?"

"She's going to tame a tornado," Lena supplies. But this time, it's without teasing. In fact, Kara detects a note of pride.

Jo turns fully towards Kara. "Tell me more."

Kara does. She shares the entirety of her project, her hypotheses and experiments and predictive models. Jo asks insightful questions, forcing Kara to dig deep into her knowledge banks, recalling the particulars of research she hasn't touched in five years.

In doing so, she recalls the nights spent with her sister, her friends-- the laughter and adrenaline, the intellectual combativeness, the drive to push each other to new heights.

The image of her sister's broken body the morning after that final, fateful chase.

She doesn't realize she's crying until Jo's arms wrap around her. She sags into the hug, clutching Jo as sobs wrack her from head to toe. Jo lets her cry, until the tears run out and Kara catches her breath again.

"I'm sorry," she says shakily. She adjusts her glasses, before noticing they're fogged. She removes them, and busies herself with drying them.

"Don't ever apologize for missing the lost, sweetheart." Jo cups Kara's cheeks. "It hurts, but until that hurt passes-- until thoughts of them go back to bringing happiness-- the sadness is how we remember them."

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: Could you do a Jamal fic where the reader is a female footballer and maybe he goes to support her at her game and she wins the league so he celebrates with her on the pitch? (anonymous)

Word Count: 467 words

(author's note: another short one ☹️ my inspiration seems to have disappeared but i hope you all enjoy this !!)

One of Jamal’s favourite things to do was watch his girlfriend play football. He had always supported her throughout her career and now he was sat in the stands for one of the most important games of her life.

Y/N's team were playing their final game of the season, but this time there was so much riding on it. They were 3 points away from winning the league. 3 points that could be achieved if they won today.

Jamal was seated in the stands, cheering and clapping with the other supporters when the players emerged from the tunnel. Y/N was leading the line, her arm adorning the captain's armband.

Pride swelled in Jamal’s chest as he watched Y/N take her place on the pitch. The whistle was blown and the game was underway.

Throughout the game, Y/N demonstrated her skills spectacularly. She had the crowd chanting her name as she dribbled past her opponents effortlessly and passed the ball seamlessly.

It was getting to the final few minutes of the game and it was still 0-0. But, out of nowhere, Y/N took a last-minute chance and kicked the ball as hard as she could towards the goal. It sailed past the goalkeeper and rattled into the back of the net. She had done it.

Her teammates screamed with excitement, sprinting up to Y/N to celebrate the goal. Jamal joined in with the crowd that were shouting erratically and celebrating along with the players.

After a final few minutes, the whistle was blown and the match was over. Y/N had not only won the league, but scored the goal that won it.

Spectators filed onto the pitch, eager to congratulate their favourite players. Jamal ran straight to Y/N and swept her off of her feet. He spun her round in his arms and she laughed at her boyfriend’s enthusiasm.

“I'm so proud of you! That was incredible!” Jamal shouted, pressing a kiss to Y/N's lips.

“Thank you baby, couldn't have done it without your support!”

“Course you could, you're the most talented footballer I know.”

“I think you have some friends that would disagree with that.”

Jamal smiled at her response and pulled her into another hug before she had to rejoin her team. As they stood on the stage waiting to collect their trophy, Y/N smiled down at Jamal as he gave her a thumbs up.

The trophy was brought out and handed to Y/N. As soon as it was in her hands, she started the signature trophy lift and the fans erupted into cheers and shouts.

Y/N couldn’t be happier, and she knew that there would be many more league titles to come if she had Jamal supporting her every step of the way.

[pommetarte]

♡ Liebling ♡

michael kaiser x reader highschool au fluff a bit of romance, the start of a relationship Strangers to friends to lovers

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

"Hey, come back!" A voice called out, "You didn't give me your number yet!"

Queue to you running in the hallways away from a certain German who's been bothering you after his match just finished.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?"

You could hear him screaming out to you, but you just ignored the noises and continued running.

Prior to this predicament, it was just you and your friend who "invited" (she actually just dragged you to watch the match between your school and another local high school for a sports cup). The players of your school have been doing well so far, already making it to the finals, which was today. The crowd goes wild for every goal achieved; everyone was hyped.

Everyone had their gaze focused on a single player, though. Who else but Michael Kaiser, the German prodigy of your high school? The ace, the sole star, is God's chosen emperor. Anyone should be grateful to be in his presence; the cheers grew louder with each passing moment, much to your dismay.

You had a small scowl plastered on your face from how overwhelming the entire match was. Sports are just not your thing.

The hype did not die down; in fact, it grew tenfold. There was loud cheering and chanting as the break finished and it was time to resume.

Time flew by fast, as now the trophy is in the hands of your school. Clapping erupted in the field as people whistled and chattered. Your school won the cup yet again. It was no surprise after all.

When the match was over, you quickly took your chance to escape. Sadly, your escape didn't go unnoticed by a certain someone as a larger figure began sprinting towards you.

' What could this idiot want?' you thought to yourself.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, causing you to turn your head around and face whoever was reaching out to you. To your surprise, it was Michael Kaiser. With a wide grin on his face and a confident demeanor, he strode towards you, flaunting himself.

"Hey, what's your name, Liebling?" he says, trying to strike up a conversation with you amidst the crowd swarming him.

It was just not your day. Exhausted and drained, you only sighed and turned around, continuing your way back to the classrooms to pick up your belongings and leave, hopefully back home.

Kaiser did not appreciate that; he continued to follow you, determined to not give up, as he shooed the crowd away. Seeing your pace increase instantly made him pick up his, and soon enough, it became a chase amidst the hallway, with him occasionally yelling for you to stop.

That's basically what led to you being trapped in a corner with him pestering you about your number and other details. Why would he want to know your class, schedule, and even subjects? It was so out of character.

Exasperated, you responded, telling him your name with a deadpan look. You looked so gorgeous even when irritated, he thought to himself.

He then looks at you with a genuine smile adorning his handsome face.

"Wow. You look so cool in that outfit. I almost want to say you're wearing that with love, but I guess I'll just call it curiosity. Oh my, how I've been missing out. I've never been with someone who made me feel this much joy." He muses loudly, proud of what he just said.

Your face had the most shocked look, as you could not believe what you heard. You could feel a blush slowly creeping onto your face as you averted your gaze.

"We can't just suddenly become friends; we barely even know each other. I only know you as a football  player."You protested, trying to cover your face.

"so? Is that even a problem?" he asked nonchalantly.

'Yes, of course it is; you don't just suddenly befriend strangers!"

"Well, I do if it's you," he winks.

You don't know whether to hit him or feel flattered.

"Anyways, can I please have your number? I really think you're cute. I've seen you around for a while, and you're always so pleasant and caring. I'd like to be friends, or maybe even more," he smiles, holding out his phone to you.

'Fine, just don't bother me too much, ok?" you say. You won't lie to yourself, but in fact, being in his attention made you feel all flustered. You feel your face heating up and the temperature rising.

Kaiser took note of it and slipped in a comment, earning a small smack from you before you typed in your number.

After you just walked away, Kaiser didn't stop you, only smiling as he looked down on the name he saved on his phone.

"Liebling ♡"

He whispers as he saves the number, his eyes resting on your figure as you leave.

And this was the beginning of what you'd like to call a very close 'friendship', although it was nothing like that at all.

Well, it blossomed into something more than that. 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

[south-of-heaven]

Poly! Judgement Day and their daughter's first steps.

She did it || The Judgement Day x Reader

Summary: You and your partners watch your daughters take her first ever steps.

Your heart swells with anticipation and excitement as you sit on the living room floor, surrounded by your partners Finn, Damian, Rhea, and Dominik. The atmosphere is filled with a blend of nervousness and exhilaration, all centered around a single tiny figure who's determinedly wobbling on unsteady legs a few feet away.

Your daughter, the center of your world, stands with a determined look on her face. Her chubby little hands grip the edge of the coffee table, her eyes locked on a plush toy that's just out of her reach. You can practically see the determination radiating from her as she contemplates her next move.

Finn's hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours as he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. The pride in his eyes mirrors your own emotions, and you share a wordless moment of anticipation.

Dominik's soft chuckle draws your attention, and you turn to see him watching your daughter with a mix of amusement and pride. His arm is draped over the back of the couch, and his smile is a reflection of the love he has for both you and the little one taking her first steps.

Damian's stoic expression softens as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze is fixed on your daughter, his eyes warm with a mixture of fondness and support. He's always been a strong presence in her life, and his steady presence reassures you.

Rhea, always vibrant and full of energy, crouches down closer to the ground, her arms resting on her knees as she encourages your daughter with a wide grin. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and you can't help but smile at the way she's cheering your little one on.

And then, it happens.

Your daughter takes a shaky step forward, her little legs wobbling beneath her. Her face lights up with a mixture of surprise and triumph, and a soft cheer escapes from your lips. The room is filled with the collective gasps and cheers of your partners, their excitement matching yours.

The second step is a bit steadier, and your heart leaps with joy as she gains confidence. The plush toy seems to beckon her, and with each careful step, she inches closer to it. You hold your breath, your fingers gripping Finn's hand a little tighter as your daughter's determination guides her.

And then, with a burst of energy, she reaches the toy, her tiny fingers grasping it triumphantly. Cheers and applause fill the room as your partners celebrate her achievement. Your own eyes are brimming with tears of pride and happiness, and you can't help but wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Finn pulls you into a warm hug, his lips pressing against your temple as he murmurs, "She did it."

Dominik's proud smile mirrors your own as he reaches over to ruffle your daughter's hair, his touch gentle and full of affection.

Rhea's laughter fills the room, and she playfully claps her hands. "That's our girl!"

Damian's rare smile graces his lips as he meets your gaze, his eyes soft with emotion. "She's amazing."

As your daughter beams with accomplishment, supported by the love and joy of her five adoring parents, you're reminded that this journey of parenthood is a shared experience. Each step she takes is a testament to the unwavering support and love that surrounds her, and you know that you're all in this together, celebrating every milestone and victory as a united family.

[jjungkookislife]

Title game!! "That's my girl"

That's My Girl

pairing: dilf!jungkook x f. reader

warnings: none?

Jungkook normally didn't bring work home. He was an A-list baker in the city and he liked to keep his home life separate but things changed when his five-year-old daughter begged him to make you, her nanny, a birthday cake.

Despite your insistence that you didn't need it, Jungkook waved you off and invited you over to his home on your birthday. He had given you the day off, but you didn't have plans. Your family lived too far away and your friends had dropped off their gifts and assured you they'd see you at your birthday party on the weekend. So you were on your own until then.

Besides, you couldn't pass up a day spending time with Jungkook and his daughter, Sooyun.

It was no secret to anyone that Sooyun liked to play matchmaker. She had formed several plans with her Uncle Jimin to get you and her dad together. This was just one of those plans, and perhaps it was working.

Jungkook hums as he sets the cake on the island. Sooyun asks to be picked up and settled next to her father as you take his other side. You lean in close to see what he'll do next, and you smell his cologne which makes you nearly moan. You bite your lip and take a step back to give him some room and yourself a chance to collect yourself.

Jungkook smiles at you as he reaches for the icing he made. "Would you like me to make your cake for your party as well?"

You flounder. You had invited Jungkook to your party, not expecting him to accept, much less ask if you wanted him to bake your cake. His cakes and confections were heaven on earth. Outside of this moment, you knew you couldn't afford to even look at one of his cakes, much less have one for your party.

"Yes," you nod, clapping as Sooyun joins you.

"It'll be the best cake ever! Right, Daddy?" Sooyun asks as she watches Jungkook drizzle the chocolate over the cake. He helps Sooyun stand on the stool and hands her a piping bag once the chocolate sets.

"Of course, princess," Jungkook instructs his daughter on how to pipe little swirls on the cake, grinning proudly when she does it successfully. "That's my girl!"

Sooyun cheers as she hands the piping bag back to her father and asks you for help getting down from the stool.

His daughter takes off from the kitchen, no longer interested in the cake as she hears the theme song to her favorite show coming from the TV in the living room.

"Want to try?" Jungkook asks you as he holds up the piping bag. You nod as you approach him, gently taking the bag and smiling when your fingers brush his. He smiles as you try and make a swirl but fail.

"I'm horrible," you pout as you stare at the misshapen swirl next to his and Sooyun's.

Laughing softly, Jungkook shakes his head. His fluffy hair covers his eyes for a moment before he shakes it out of the way.

"Like this," Jungkook stands beside you, his arms going around you and his hands placed over yours as he leans forward to help you make the perfect swirl. "It's all in the wrist."

Slowly, Jungkook pulls his hands away to give you a chance to do it on your own. You're cautious as you make the attempt, breathing in slowly as you make the perfect swirl.

Jungkook smiles brightly at your achievement. His excitement gets the better of him as he kisses your cheek. You feel heat rush to your skin as you meet his gaze. Your eyes flit to his lips and back. Jungkook cups your face as he leans in, giving you enough time to move away but you don't.

His lips press to yours in a soft kiss that leaves you breathless. Your lips move in sync as he gets more confident when you kiss him back, softly moaning before he pulls away.

Jungkook's gaze is heated as he looks at you. His heart skips a beat as he takes in your beautiful expression. This time, you lean in for another kiss, knowing this is the best birthday you've ever had.

[jackhues]

a secret - šimon nemec

requested by: anon :)

notes: i hope you like this!

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

gif not mine

you met šimon while he'd been in new jersey for training camp. he'd just been drafted to the nhl, while you'd just gotten a new job at a local cafe.

in any other world, you two wouldn't have even met each other -- let alone start a relationship.

it just so happened that he was recommended the cafe by another devils player, and decided to check it out on the morning that you were working. you made him a coffee, suggesting one of your favourites because he wasn't sure how to order.

after that, things just blossomed.

you exchanged numbers, texting and facetiming whenever you could. you went on dates, you wore his jersey to games, you spent all of your time together.

but you still hadn't gone public.

you were dating, but neither of you wanted to be poked and prodded at by the media. especially since he was called up to the nhl.

in fact, you hadn't even told the team yet.

it's not like it would be the end of the world, but they believed you were best friends. and considering the way some of them could never keep their mouths shut, you guys decided it was simply better that way.

never denied, but never confirmed.

you sat with the other wags, dressed in a nemec jersey, and ready for this game to be over. the devils were leading 5-1, with three minutes left in the third, and šimon had just scored his first hattrick.

it was a big achievement, you knew that. and you just wanted to go home and celebrate it.

which was why the second the game was over, you jumped up and clapped louder than anyone around you. after the stars of the game were announced (šimon getting the first star), you waited for a little longer before heading to the locker room.

by now, most guys were headed home, leaving only šimon in the locker room. he'd been the last to do media, and was going to be the last to leave.

"good game," you fist bumped nico as he walked by.

"thanks, y/n/n," he grinned. "šimon's still in the locker room. he'll be out in a few minutes."

you waved as nico walked away, poking your head inside the room. just like you predicted, he was the only one left. his back was facing you as he pulled his shirt on.

you walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his back.

šimon froze for half a second, before relaxing once he realized it was only you. he turned around, a wide grin on his face as he pulled you into a proper hug.

"i'm so proud of you," you smiled, fixing the collar of his shirt. "look at you, a big shot now. scoring hattricks and stuff. how're you gonna make sure it doesn't get to your head?"

šimon laughed, swaying you gently with his arms around your waist. "hmm, i'm not sure. i do have this wonderful girlfriend who's very good at making sure my head doesn't get too big. i'm probably going to have to spend more time with her to increase her effect on me."

you rolled your eyes, a stupid grin on your face.

šimon laughed at your expression, pressing a kiss to your nose.

"you're so cute," he grinned, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

he continued peppering kisses over your face, pausing before he dipped down to capture your lips in his. you found yourself melting into him, your hand coming up to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. his arms gripped your waist, doing the job of holding you up since your legs seemed to have failed you.

the two of you pulled apart as a loud bang sounded, followed by something clattering to the floor.

there stood luke hughes, a sheepish look on his face as he chased his waterbottle.

"sorry guys," he muttered. "forgot this. don't mind me, i'm heading out now. continue." he paused, "just don't have sex on my stall, that's where i draw the line."

"we - we're not--" šimon stuttered.

"oh please, don't pull that she's my best friend bullshit again," he said dismissively. "everyone on the team knows you're together, and everyone thinks you guys are adorable. i might be changing my mind if you have sex in the locker room."

"luke, stop talking," you told him.

"yes ma'am."

"and get out if you're not missing anything else."

"yes ma'am."

you and šimon waited for luke to leave, before turning back to each other.

"let's face it," you shrugged. "it's not like we were doing a good job at keeping this a secret."

---

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[hxzxrdous]

heyy, as I heard you’re taking request again, I have a quite gross one. You see, I have some issues where I neglect self-care, especially hygiene such as not washing my hair, not changing clothes, not brushing teeth etc.

I know it’s very disgusting, and I’m really trying to do better but I can’t seem to get myself to do it.

Do you think we could get a Lady Lesso comfort one-shot regarding that matter?

I would love to read it, even though I totally understand if you don’t accept this xx

The School for Good and Evil

Note: AAAA thank yew sooo muchh for the request, loveeee. And I know exactly what you mean omg, I used to be either too depressed to properly take care of myself or/and my mom didn't accustom me of self-care from when I was little. Like she'd literally bathe me and my brother once a week. And she wouldn't teach us to brush our teeth. It's very hard to get myself to do these things now because I'm saur not used to it. 🫣💀 I HOPEEE YOU LIKE THE WAY I WROTE IT

Platonic Lady Lesso x reader

TW: Mention of depression, comfort, fluffity fluffy fluff, Lady Lesso literally mothering

ISN'T IT AMAZING?

"And that is how you defeat your mortal enemy," Lady Lesso walked around the classroom, twirling with her cane as she taught until her eyes darted over the empty seat that stayed empty over two weeks now. At first she thought you might be sick but now she knows you were ditching class.

After she dismissed the class, she made her way to your dormitory but nothing could've prepared her for what came next. Lady Lesso entered the dimly lit room cautiously, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. The air was heavy, mixed with smell of sweat. The sight of your mattered and tangled hair was too much. She immediately knew the cause was depression.

"Ah, there you are," she whispered, observing you. A sigh escaped her lips as she noticed your disheveled state. She pulled a chair closer and sat down, resting her chin on her hand. The silence in the room was broken only by the faint sound of breathing. Lady Lesso tilted her head slightly, contemplating how best to approach this delicate situation.

Lady Lesso watched as you stirred, your face contorted into a mix of confusion and fear.

Your eyes met Lady Lesso's, widening further upon recognizing the unexpected visitor. In a hushed tone, you stammered, "I'm sorry, ma'am - I didn't..."

A gentle wave of Lady Lesso's hand silenced the apology before it could fully form. "Shhh," Lady Lesso soothed, leaning forward in her chair.

"I- I think I need help- I feel so- so disgusting-" the girl whispered. "I can't get myself to wash and brush my teeth-"

Lady Lesso let out a light chuckle, masking her growing concern. "Wash?" She repeated, feigning innocence. "Perhaps we can turn this chore into a game," she suggested, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"A game?" You tilted your head

"Ah, I'm glad you're intrigued!" Lesso clapped her hands together once, the sound echoing in the room. "Imagine this," she began, leaning forward with excitement. "Every time you wash a certain part of your body or brush your teeth, you earn points." Her eyes locked onto yours, challenging you to accept the proposition.

"What do I get when I earn points?" You asked.

"Well, my dear, besides the satisfaction of a clean body and mind, you shall receive small rewards along the way." She paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "For every milestone achieved, I shall gift you something special - perhaps a book from my collection or a treat from the kitchens."

"Can you help me, please? I dunno how to get rid of the knots" the you pointed to her tangled hair.

Lady Lesso arched an eyebrow, studying the knotted mess that was your hair. "Knots, eh?" She murmured thoughtfully, her silver-manicured fingers lightly tapping against her chin. With deft movements, Lady Lesso expertly untangled the knots, her nimble fingers working quickly and efficiently.

Lady Lesso leaned on her cane and stood up, leading you to her luscious bathroom. Lady Lesso drew you a bath, adding in the lavender oil, she conjured some bubbles that changed colors.

You watched in amazement as the water transformed into a bubbling, lavender-infused oasis. You couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over you, despite your initial reluctance.

As Lady Lesso stepped out, leaving you alone in the bathroom, you hesitated for a moment before slowly undressing and slipping into the warm, fragrant water. The soothing sensation enveloped you, and you could already feel the tension in you muscles beginning to dissipate.

After the bath, Lady Lesso was waiting for you with two cups of chamomile tea.

"Remember the feeling after," Lady Lesso remarked, her tone lighthearted. "Isn't it amazing?" She then leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Don't beat yourself if you don't succeed right away. You can come to me anytime."

You hesitantly accepted the cup of chamomile tea, your fingers wrapping around it for warmth. As you took a sip, Lady Lesso knelt down in front of you, applying a soothing aloe vera cream onto your face. The cool sensation brought comfort to your skin, and you closed your E/C eyes, enjoying the gentle touch. Lady Lesso let out a soft chuckle as she playfully pinched your left cheek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I always wondered how it would feel to have a teenage daughter," she quipped, her smile never fading.

Lady Lesso accompanied you back to your dorm. Lady Lesso led the way, her cane clicking rhythmically against the stones. Upon entering the room, she helped you settle into your cozy bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

"Sleep tight," Lady Lesso whispered softly, her fingers brushing through your hair in a comforting gesture. The following morning, you woke up to find a music box on your bedside table playing the melody of Swan Lake. A small note attached read, "isn't it amazing?"

[itjazzbicch]

Reborn

Pairing:  Kenshi Takashi x Fem Reader 

Summary: Traumatized from all of the horrific sights the reader had seen while defending their timeline and facing Titan Shang Tsung, the reader decided to part ways with her fellow champions and Lui Kang, falling off the grid, but when she is found by her close friend, Kenshi, he offers her a new path in life, at first shutting her down, but his words sticking with her and giving her the motivation to find herself again...

Warnings: Kenshi Tower ending spoilers, The reader deals with some mental health issues, Jax is in this fic (colored purple) slight swearing (but that's about it!) The song used in this fic is listed below!

Word Count: 1.5k 

When I was chosen to be a champion, I thought that my life would excel and that I'd achieve things that I couldn't imagine, but as time progressed, I was put to the test. I passed and made it out alive, but I left with scars on my skin and in my mind.

We all had our lives to live. My friends stayed in touch with one another, but I isolated myself and practically fell off the face of the earth. It would be best if my former friends didn't know where I was and what I was doing.

--------

"She's here. I just have this feeling, Briggs."

"Well, I've never met her, so I'll trust your gut on this one-"

Sooner or later, someone was bound to come and find me. Kenshi, being the one to step up, and did not expect to see me in a nightclub, shocked to hear my singing:

"Now it's one more boy and it's one more line

(Holding on for your call)

Taking the pills just to pass the time

(I can never say no)

'Cause I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine

(Holding on for your call)

'Cause I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine

But maybe not tonight”

"She's a performer?" Briggs saw me on stage, dancing in a skimpy dress, the crowd of the club roaring; disbelief was all over Kenshi's face as he shook his head slowly:

"I never even knew that she could sing."

"It's a different kind of danger And the bells are ringing out And I'm calling for my mother As I pull the pillars down It's a different kind of danger And my feet are spinning around Never knew I was a dancer 'Til Delilah showed me how,"

Nothing was stopping me from singing, this being the one thing that made me feel alive, dancing, and finishing off:

"Too fast for freedom Sometimes it all falls down These chains never leave me I keep dragging them around Too fast for freedom Sometimes it all falls down These chains never leave me I keep dragging them around."

Posing then bowing as the crowd clapped and whistled at me, Kenshi was evident in the crowd, wearing sunglasses instead of that red band, but I knew him when I saw him. When my eyes locked on him, I could feel the tension as his attention was locked on me, too.

I didn't know who the guy with him was, but either way, it was time to get out of there.

"Give it up for our Queen, Y/N!" The DJ had to keep exciting the crowd, just my luck, but he wasn't in charge of this place, so I waved to the crowd again before slipping to the back.

Rushing to grab my stuff and my car keys, I knew Kenshi would try and find a way to me. Hoping security would do good at their job, I slipped out the back and heard from the darkness by my car:

"Since when did you sing?"

"Kenshi," I sighed, rolling my eyes and giving up on avoiding him, "I've always sung. Just never told anyone."

"Ah, well, you're good at it," Stepping out of the darkness with that guy, his tone showed his concern for me, "Just didn't expect to find you in a place like this-"

"Who's the guy?" I was standoff-ish with strangers, but I didn't sense any ill intentions from him as he stepped up and introduced himself:

"Jackson Briggs. Takashi and I now work for the OIA. We hoped to speak with you."

Offering his hand to me, I only stared, cocking my eyebrow at Kenshi, "OIA? What the hell is that?"

"The Outerworld Investigation Agency," Kenshi explained, "I'm sure you can puzzle the pieces together-"

"Yeah, and I decline," I spat quickly, my harshness leaving them silent; I rolled my eyes again as Kenshi only turned his head to Briggs, wanting to talk to me alone.

"Y/N," Now that we were alone, Kenshi wasn't going to leave till he got more answers, showing more concern for me, whispering, "We've all been worrying about you. Johnny, Kung Lao, Raiden, even Lord Lui Kang-"

"As you see, I'm fine," I didn't want to have this conversation, trying to shut it down, "It was nice seeing you, but-"

"Y/N-" More stern in his tone, he held me by the shoulders, trying to read me better, "Even I can see that something's wrong and how you changed so drastically. I know we went through a lot, but-"

"No, buts-" I whispered, my emotions starting to rise, "That stuff mentally screwed me, and I don't want to return to that life."

"Have you forgotten that you are a champion?" His words brought tears to my eyes, and I felt as if a fire was burning under me, a mixture of pressure and deep desires, "We're human, and our minds can be fragile, I get that, but you're strong, whether you believe it or not. The realms need you."

"I haven't forgotten," I whispered, giving false hope before crushing the motivation he tried to give me, "I haven't forgotten the pain that being a 'champion' has put me through. The realms don't need me."

The silence between us was eerie. I had him frozen in disbelief, hugging his stiff body and whispering before I walked away:

"I do appreciate the concern, but we all have different fates. I'm sorry if mine doesn't align with yours."

"Wait-" It was becoming difficult not to snap, but I had a soft spot for Kenshi, stopping and looking as he handed me a card, "Just in case you change your mind."

"Sure," I huffed sarcastically, finally escaping the situation, but it stuck with me.

I spent the next few nights wide awake, lost in thought, questioning my entire life. For some reason, Kenshi's words, "Have you forgotten that you are a champion," replayed in my head. Over and over.

Staring at his business card, I relived everything that I went through as a champion, and the one constant circled my mind. I never gave up. I faced death and overcame it, took down a Titan. The mental conflicts had me shaking.

The life I was living now wasn't meant for me; that was a fact that I could accept. Maybe Kenshi was right.

Laying back, holding that card close, for the first time since I parted ways with everyone, I felt some peace, knowing what I needed to do and what was right.

------------

"Hey, Takashi," It took a few more days to get myself together, but it was worth seeing the expression on Kenshi's face as his partner Jax brought me into his office, "Someone important is here to see you."

It was hard not to laugh at his hung jaw, giggling through my question, "You still want me to work with you, right?"

Kenshi's shocked expression turned into a small, relieved smile, "I'm glad you decided to come."

"We got a lot of work to do," Jax smiled at us, heading out the door and teasing Kenshi, "Make sure she knows how to do things right!"

"That won't be an issue," He chuckled, and when the door closed, I took Kenshi's hand and gave him a tight hug, confusing him for a moment, "The job's not that bad-"

"It's not that. It's just-; Thank you, Kenshi," I whispered. Kenshi realized what I had been feeling, returned my hug, and rubbed my back softly.

"I've been wanting to apologize to you. I knew that all the horrible things we went through were getting to your head, and I didn't do anything-"

Hearing him say that made me want to sob, but I shook it off, holding his head to mine, finally defeating the demons in my mind:

"You don't have to apologize for anything. That was a battle that only I could fight. Don't worry anymore, Kenshi. I finally remembered who I am."

Smiling more, he was happy for me and proud, "You're going to make a great agent, you know."

"From what I heard, you made quite a reputation for yourself here. I'll make sure to be even better," I teased, making us laugh, Kenshi teasing back:

"Did you go visit Johnny before you came here? You're sounding a little too cocky, just like him."

Laughing and shaking my head, I acknowledged, "No, but I need to go visit the guys."

"They'll be over the moon when you do. Just don't let Cage know that you can sing. He'll try to get you into the music business," He smirked, making me laugh, leaning over to his desk and then placing a badge in my hand, "Welcome to the team, Y/N."

Staring at the badge, I felt a true purpose in my life again, clenching it in my fist, being filled with a new kind of pride, my voice alone showing my newfound loyalty to Kenshi and the OIA, "I won't disappoint you and give you my all, Kenshi." 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[wesawbears]

At the buzzer, but here is my fic for the @daylightficfest! My prompt was: Character study of Kevin through the lens of his and Jeans relationship. Scenes from their relationship from the beginning in the Nest to their time apart at Palmetto and USC, playing pro exy and post retirement.

Enjoy!

--

“He won't last three months.”

Kevin turned to look at Marcus, disliking the mix of malice and amusement on his face. Thankfully he was a fifth year, with a pro contract to boot, and so wouldn't be around in three months to check on his bet either way. But Jean Moreau, with his guarded pretty eyes looked interesting at least, and he must be capable on the court– otherwise, the Master would not have taken him on. He at least wanted a chance to play with him before the rest of the Ravens got to him.

“He will have to,” Riko said at his other side, jolting Kevin back to attention. “The Master would not have accepted an investment that was not likely to pay itself off.” He grinned, a sharp-toothed thing that Kevin both abhorred and was drawn in by. It meant trouble, and where Riko is concerned, Kevin was bound to be caught in the crosshairs. It was his place and he knew it, but that wouldn't stop the pit of dread from settling in his stomach. He watched Riko clap his hands together. “Doesn't mean we can't have some fun in the meantime.”

Kevin followed as Riko walked up to their new charge, stopping a few feet away. He was taller than Riko, but that had never cowed him before. What did he have to be afraid of? He was King, and only the Master had dominion over him. As long as it did not affect their performance on the court, he would not intervene. 

“You are Moreau?” he said. 

“Jean-Yves,” the boy said, eyes hard and mouth set. Kevin inwardly flinched at the look of it.

Riko waved a dismissive hand. “You are a Moreau. You will learn your place or you will have it taught to you. Remember that.”

Moreau nodded and Kevin struggled not to let his relief show. He knew the time would come for Riko to take the full measure of the newest Raven, but Kevin wanted to postpone it as long as possible. 

“We'll have to see your skills on the court,” Kevin said, hoping to appease Riko. “We don't know how long it's been since you played. None of this means anything if you cannot hold your own.” The Court could hurt, but it was a cleaner pain. Different.

Moreau shot him a flat look, and Kevin did his best to match it. “I can play. Give me a racquet.”

He wasn't wrong. Kevin had to know about backliners– many Exy players made the mistake of only learning their own position, but understanding the role of each member of a team made your job easier. A good backliner had to be fast and ruthless, simultaneously focused on their mark and seeing the whole field at once. 

Kevin prided himself on knowing the measure of a player after one match. After playing Jean-Yves Moreau for the first time, he saw that he played not like he had either everything or nothing to lose. Rather, he played like it was the only thing, like he was willing to do anything to achieve his goal. He played like his body didn't matter. 

As they headed off the field, Kevin caught him by the arm. “You did well. They will do what they can to injure you. It does no good to play like that if you're only going to handicap yourself with injury.”

“Somehow I do not think it will matter if I am injured or not,” Moreau said, wrenching his arm out of Kevin's hold.

Kevin watched him walk away, unsure what he could say to contradict that.

–

Kevin glanced behind himself, checking once more that Riko was asleep. He had made this particular walk enough times to know it would be fine– Riko was a heavy sleeper, and he wouldn't be gone more than an hour. None of Jean's temporary partners, if they noticed, would dare to reveal his secret. Riko was King, but Kevin had enough standing that the other Ravens knew he could make their lives hell just as easily. So they turned away when Kevin slipped into Jean's room in the dead of night.

He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Jean too much. He'd taken a considerable amount of hard checks at practice that day. Not that he ever didn't. Still, Kevin knew how much worse it had gotten now that they were full members of the team. 

It'd be worse if Jean indicated that any of it bothered him, but he woke without even a pained grunt, just soundlessly opening his eyes and turning to look at Kevin. The fight, the hard edge that had been there when they met two years ago was gone, replaced with flat, empty grey. Kevin hated it, hated his part in putting it there. Still, he was here, doing what he could to get some of the light back.

“So. Three words tonight?” he asked tucking his leg up underneath him.

Jean nodded and sat up, wincing a bit at the pull in his ribs. “It would be easier to learn if you were willing to try sentences.”

Kevin sighed. Jean was right, of course, as Kevin had mostly learned Japanese by being thrown into the deep end. But this was all he had to bargain with, to get these few moments alone with him, to see that he was okay. There was a smaller, buried part of him that could admit he just wanted the closeness, but examining that would open doors Kevin knows are better left closed. It wasn't an option, to be anything but what the public required of him. Desirable. Charming. 

Straight.

So he contented himself with the lilt of syllables on Jean's tongue, the way the sound sends a lick of something up Kevin's spine. And when he's learned his words for the day and exhaustion makes his pronunciation too egregious for Jean to bear, he can curl into the warmth by his back and close his eyes, feel the rise and fall of Jean's breath with his head resting on his shoulder.

It's too dangerous to stay, but he always waits until he's sure Jean is asleep to slip away, leaving the safety of dreams for the reality down the hall.

–

It was four in the morning and Kevin was half convinced that Jean was dead.

More than half sure, if he's being honest. It wasn't fair, what he'd done, but it was the only chance he'd had. Riko wouldn't have killed him, but Kevin isn't sure that what he's been left with is any better. He only half remembered the drive, hopped up on pain and adrenaline with his wrist cradled to his chest. It felt like atonement, though he didn't think Jean would agree with that assessment. Not when he was surely experiencing ten times worse. 

Kevin's name kept him insulated from the repercussions of his actions, but even if he had been able to take Jean with him, there's no guarantee that the Moriyama's wouldn't have had him killed. At least, that's what he told himself. Andrew called it equivocating.

So he paced the length of the room that's only been his for forty eight hours and tried not to panic as his phone refused to light up with an answer from Jean. The first thing Andrew had done once Wymack had passed him uneasily into the cousins' custody was sit him down and watch as he deleted every contact in his phone of the Ravens and blocked them. He had done it– shaking the whole time, but he'd done it, understanding that he had no choice. But as he'd stared down at Jean's name, he looked up at Andrew's placid smile and shook his head.

“He needs me,” he'd said.

“He needed you,” Andrew corrected. “You left him. He will not see it otherwise.”

“Then at least leave me the option to repay the debt I owe him,” Kevin said, appealing in a language he knew Andrew understood.

Something in the desperate glint in his eyes must have convinced him, because he handed Kevin his phone back, grin growing wide.

“Playing with fire. Maybe Dan is wrong about you being a Fox after all.” 

Half sick with desperation, Kevin clicked call before he could second guess himself and waited for the beep of Jean's voicemail. He knew he probably wouldn't be coherent, but the words had been choking for him for two days, and he felt like they were going to rip him in two soon.

“Jean. I-I know you hate me, and you should- I- fuck, I left you and I'm selfish, I'm so selfish that I have to know you're okay, that you're alive. Just tell me that and I'll never bother you again.”

 He doesn't mean the last bit– Jean is too much a part of his bloodstream to ever be able to stop checking for him, at every game and gala, in every shadow and tucked into his heart when he sleeps. But he was trying to be better and that meant letting the space close as long as he knew Jean was alive.

His phone chimed three days after he sent the voicemail, and the sound startled him so much he almost smashed it against the wall. But he opens it with a shaky hand and saw what Jean wrote.

I am alive. Never call me again. Coward.

–

Kevin visited California alone for the first time during the week between Christmas and New Year's. Andrew and Neil were headed up the coast, everyone else scattered to their various homes. He'd known that Abby had been genuine in her offer for him to stay with her and Coa-his dad. But he'd stayed there in the week leading up to the holidays, and through them, and it had left both of their nerves a little raw. Besides, he had put off seeing how Jean was long enough. It was best for him to have space to settle in with the Trojans, and he'd known he was in good hands with Jeremy.

He knew it was selfishness rather than altruism that made him want to visit. A horrible voice whispered and clawed in the back of his mind, wanting to know if he's been replaced, if the rupture between them is large enough that it can't be healed. Jean had certainly had nothing kind to say to him while holed up at Abby’s. But he hoped that time and distance had done some of the work for him. Now it was up to Kevin to do the rest.

Jeremy was the one to pick him up from the airport. “Jean's sorry he couldn't make it– backliners day for pre-semester physicals. He'll meet us at the house once you're settled.”

Kevin knew a practiced lie when he heard one– he'd told enough of them himself. Jean didn't want their first meeting in six months to be in a small car with no way out. “How is he really?”

Jeremy sighed. “He's doing as good as he can? Leagues better than he was in June.”

“But?”

“But you left a hell of a lot out, man.”

Kevin nodded. “It is…difficult to explain.”

Jeremy nodded. “I'm not angry. And…neither is he. I don't think. That's probably an overstep so don't repeat that, but…just give him time.”

When Kevin did finally get to see Jean later that night, he did look good. He was no longer ghostly pale, and more present than he'd seemed in a long time. He's gained muscle back, but it sat better than it had with the Ravens. 

Jeremy, Cat,  and Laila clear the table to give the two of them a chance to talk and Kevin feels all of the words he'd wanted to say flee him.

“You're alone,” Jean said to break the silence.

“Huh?”

Jean rolled his eyes at Kevin's ineptitude. “I meant that you came alone. I'm surprised is all.”

“Andrew wouldn't set foot in California if I paid him.”

Jean shrugged. “Or maybe you don't need him the way you think you did?”

“Maybe,” he answered noncommittally. He didn't know if Jean was really past the partner system or not, but it still bothered him to think Jean has freed himself from it far sooner than Kevin had managed to. “I think we're both pretty well adjusted. All things considered.”

The weight of names and bodies hang between them. So many Ravens dead or good as, and for what? He has asked Thea once how she had moved on and she dad shrugged and said she hadn't. She just kept moving. He supposed that without something to move towards, they had been lost. Kevin had his father, and Jean…

Jean had the Trojans now. 

He looked up as Jeremy tapped on the doorframe, looking apologetic. “I'm heading up to bed. You need anything?”

“We're fine. Good night, Jeremy.”

There was something in the look that passed between them and Kevin knew. It wasn't something yet, but it would be, and he would be happy for Jean when it happened. He owed him that much.

–

Three things were true: Kevin had just won his third gold medal, he hadn't had a drink in thirteen years, and he was in a bar.

He held his hand against the cold of his glass, full of club soda and ice. His hand cramped up after a game, and the cool felt nice against his palm.

He heard someone slide next to him and even after years intuited who it was. “How did you know I would be here?”

Jean snorted. “You are not difficult to predict.”

“I wasn't going to drink.”

“I know.”

His hand fidgeted on the glass as weighed his words. “Shouldn't you be celebrating?”

“I am exactly where I want to be.”

Kevin looked over at him. Years between them and so much changed, but not Jean's eyes. The same grey, the same kind look. Despite.

“I think this is it,” Kevin said quietly. 

“Your hand.”

 It was a statement, not a question, but Kevin nodded anyway. “The doctors wanted me to retire two years ago, but I wanted another Olympics. My coach signed off on it, with the condition that I was done after this.”

Jean nodded slowly. “You should talk to Jeremy. He had a hard time when his knee took him out a few years ago. He might have some suggestions.”

“I see a sports psychologist. I've been preparing for this for a year.”

“But it's different than you thought it would be.”

There was a ghost hanging between them, an unspoken absence no one else could see. “It's easier on the court. I could manage it there.”

“You will manage without it. It can't love you back.”

“You sound like Andrew.”

“Perish the thought.”

They chuckled and the tension broke, long enough for Jean to take his glass of melted ice away. “Come. We are going somewhere else.”

Kevin stood, confused but not concerned. Even now, he would follow Jean anywhere. “It's eleven at night.”

“There are streetlights.”

Kevin stopped short as Jean made his way over to a motorcycle, passing a helmet to Kevin. “I am not getting on that thing.”

Jean laughed. “Yes you are. You drive in a car with Andrew.”

“That's different. It has doors.”

“Do you trust me?”

Kevin faltered at that, feeling too much like an eighteen year old version of himself clinging to Jean in the dark. But he found that it wasn't a question at all.

“I do.”

–

“Dad!”

Kevin looked up to see Amalia making her way through the crowd. It still startled him every day to see how tall she was getting. Her features were all Thea, but the demanding tone was him.

“Yeah?”

“Uncle Jean is here!” 

“Can't really leave, honey. Let him in and tell him I'm back here.”

She ran off and returned, pulling 6’5” of backliner through the kitchen. 

“They trust you in front of a stove?” Jean greeted. 

“I'm learning,” Kevin said. “If you're going to make fun of me, you're going to help. Chop,” he said, gesturing to the vegetables to his left. 

Jean smirked, but didn't argue, taking the knife with an air of practice. “Glad to see you haven't lost your inexplicable need to boss everyone around.”

“It comes in handy,” Kevin said without heat. “Jeremy coming?”

“He got commandeered by your daughter. She wanted to show him the tricks she taught Lucky.”

Kevin chuckled. Amalia spoiled that dog, but then, she had caught Kevin giving her a pup cup, so he wasn't totally off the hook. “Losing your husband to a dog.”

“I accepted I would lose that bargain long ago,” Jean said with a laugh.

A companionable silence passed between them, the sounds of chopping and sizzling serving as the backdrop. 

“It's weird how normal this is, right?” Kevin said at last.

“I don't know– I tend to think everything involving you is made weird.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Jean hummed, wiping his hands and turning to face Kevin. “I think the feeling you're experiencing is happiness, Kevin.”

It was rare that he took the time to take stock of his life. The years since his retirement had passed in a sea of trial and error– of becoming a better father and husband, of trying on hobbies and habits, until the patchwork he'd cobbled together resemble a life. And he was, he found, happy, against all odds. He liked getting called old by Amalia, having to squint at her phone when she showed him TikToks, yelling at Neil over the phone after a match they'd both watched, quiet double dates with Jean and Jeremy, and feeling the weight of their history melt away with the years.

Kevin was forty, and Jean was in his kitchen, and they were smiling, and they were going to be okay.

“I think you might be right.

[20forty9]

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter IV - Candles On Fire

Summary : The spirit spars with Maheas and doesn't realize the mistake it has made will lead to terrible consequences. You go on your first mission with other people, but it doesn't go all according to plan. You have to learn that it's okay to be vulnerable with people you are starting to trust.

Word Count : 9.4k

Contains : Violence. Very vague mention of top scars. I think that's it, please let me know if I'm missing anything!

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : So I know I said I wouldn't update in two weeks, but I lied. I lie for fun, apparently. I pumped this chapter out like my LIFE depended on it (confirmed Gege was holding the gun to my head... especially with those latest leaks brah I can't believe it). LOTS of Satoru and Gojo in this chapter! And just a short flashback to Suliman, probably the shortest one I've written so far... Some small fluff too, for once! I must really be feeling sick... I'm also curious, are there any characters you'd like to see more of? OR, actually, who are YOUR favourite characters from JJK that you'd like to see involved in the story? Remember, it's Multi x Reader, so it can be anyone! And is there anything you're not vibing with in this story so far? Feedback means the world to me and keeps me logging back in every day to check if I have any new comments. Trust me, your support goes a long way and keeps me motivated, so thank you to my regular commenters!

Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning. ~William Arthur Ward

Suliman is utterly obsessed with the spirit’s powers, to put it simply – though even that word couldn’t put enough emphasis on it. Every day, she would create training dummies of different sizes made out of her strange purple tendrils for it to use as target practice, showing off its destructive fire capabilities. 

Though it was glad to be able to use an element without any drawbacks, the way Suliman observed, refusing to tear her eyes away for even one second, disturbed it deeply. Knowing her, she already had a few plans in mind on how to use it for her benefit. 

After absolutely eviscerating another training dummy, Suliman approaches the spirit, stepping over the leftover ashes, slowly clapping her hands. 

“Good,” she simply says. “I think I’ve had enough of you training on something like this. I have a better idea.” 

With a click of her fingers, her entourage of men walk over, followed by the kid the spirit had an encounter with a little over a month ago – Maheas is his name , if it recalls correctly. The dirty-blonde boy holds a sword in his hand, donned in clothes appropriate for exercise. He looks up at the spirit anxiously, a small frown on his face, probably remembering their first meeting. 

“Maheas, from this day forward, this spirit will train you,” Suliman explains to the boy, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are my most promising acolyte, I want to shape you to be the best, and this will surely help you achieve your goal.” 

His gaze drifts to the woman, apprehensive. But when she gives him a soft smile, it seems to weaken his resolve. 

“I won’t let you down, Madame. I’ll work as hard as possible, and become even stronger than that thing!” Maheas points an accusatory finger in the spirit's direction. “I can probably beat it right now!” 

“Oh, is that so?” She tilts her head to the side, the smile never wavering. “Well, why don’t you show me? Make me proud.” 

“I would be honoured.” 

Suliman takes a step back, followed by the men, giving both the spirit and the young boy enough space to spar. 

Unimpressed, the spirit stands firmly in place, not moving a single muscle. It doesn’t want to fight a kid, but it looks like it has no other choice. It remembers their first encounter, when Maheas punched it in the gut and managed to summon enough cursed energy to do some damage in its weakened state. As long as it doesn’t let him hit it directly, it could end this fight in mere seconds. 

“Prepare yourself, spirit!” Maheas says, pointing the tip of his sword in its direction. “I won’t go easy on you.” 

It has to fight the urge to roll its eyes, raising its fists in front of its face and bringing its left leg forward a bit, bending at the knees. With a raise of a thick red eyebrow, it provokes the young boy enough to charge forward, swinging his sword back. The spirit side-steps his attack quickly just as he brings the weapon down right where it was standing, getting it stuck in the ground. 

The sword must be slightly too heavy for Maheas, as he struggles to pull it out, giving the spirit just enough time to move a hand underneath the young boy’s arm, bringing him closer to it before it knees him in the stomach, just strong enough to knock him back and leave him breathless on the ground, but not enough to actually injure him.

Just like that, their fight is over – if you could even call that. 

After taking a deep breath, Maheas sits back up, staring daggers at the spirit. If looks could kill… 

“I want a rematch!” He declares, but when he tries to stand back up, his legs wobble and he immediately sits back down. After getting knocked down like that, the spirit knows he’ll need a few minutes before he can use his legs properly again. It motions with a hand for him to keep sitting, imitating deep breaths. 

“I don’t listen to you,” Maheas says, though he does it anyway, crossing his legs and harrumphing. 

“You did well,” Suliman says as a butler approaches the young boy with a glass of water. “You’ll only continue to improve as you train. I don’t want either of you to hold back on each other, do you understand me?” 

That seems to be a dangerous request, the spirit thinks to itself. It looks over at the boy’s discarded sword laying on the ground, deciding to pick it up and weigh it in its hands. It is definitely too heavy for a boy of his height and weight, and also too restrictive. He’d do well with a polearm. 

There’s a light smack to its side, bringing its attention to the red-faced boy who is – surprisingly enough – already standing on both legs, yelling at it. 

“Put that down, it’s not yours!” He continues weakly punching it with his small fists. 

It decides to look over the sword once more, completely ignoring Maheas, shaking its head in disappointment. 

“What seems to be the problem?” It reads upon Suliman’s lips when it looks over at her. 

She waves the butler over, who brings a piece of parchment paper and quill dipped in ink at the ready. The spirit looks at the objects, confused. 

“You barely talk, so write what’s on your mind instead,” she says. 

It hesitates as it grasps the quill, the tip of it pressing against the paper, still unsure. It doesn’t know how to write . 

“My, you really are pathetic, aren’t you?” Suliman’s lips are still quirked up in a small smile as she gently berates it. “Fine, just speak instead.” 

It swallows nervously, suddenly becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. It doesn’t know what vowels to emphasize or vocalize. It shakes its head no instead, pointing at the sword and making an ‘x’ with its fingers before gesturing at Maheas. 

“Are you saying the sword isn’t a good weapon for him?” She asks, crossing her arms. Thankful she understood it, it nods. The young boy standing next to them looks mildly offended, stomping a foot on the ground. 

“You calling me weak?!” 

The spirit shakes its head back and forth again. 

“I think it’s saying that another weapon would suit you better,” Suliman patiently explains it to him, and it nods at that. “If that’s the case, why don’t you show us what will work better?” 

Each of the men that were standing on guard brandish their weapons, each of them being different. They stand tall, backs straight and situated in a line, and hold their weapon in the palm of their hands. 

“Go on,” she encourages the spirit. 

Its eyes scrutinize over each of them before they land on a man holding a polearm. It walks over to him, pointing at it then looking back at Suliman. 

“Well, go on then,” she urges Maheas with a gentle push to his back. He reluctantly makes his way over to stand next to the spirit, taking the polearm from the man standing in front of the both of them. 

The spirit notes that it’s definitely too long for someone of his height, but with a few adjustments, he’ll be able to move more swiftly and have more versatile attacks. It will significantly extend his range and striking power, too. Compared to the sword, this is a much better option for the young boy. 

“How does it feel?” Suliman asks Maheas, observing him. 

“It’s okay, I think,” he replies, weighing the weapon in both hands. He still seems unsure, but with time he’ll become more used to it. 

“Wonderful. We’ll make you one that suits you better so you can properly train with the spirit by tomorrow,” she says, motioning at the man to take his polearm back. 

The young boy smiles widely at the prospect of a new weapon, thanking her over and over again. Suliman pats him on the head in a motherly way, giving him a smile of her own, but the spirit notices that there is no genuine warmth behind it. She adjusts her dress slightly before leading Maheas away, leaving a request to the men to bring the spirit back to its room. She waves goodbye to it as she walks with the young boy through the gardens and back to the greenhouse. 

The spirit can’t help but think it has made a grave mistake. 

 

The following day after the big thunderstorm, you wake up with a sudden start, feeling your alarm clock vibrate underneath the pillow. You click it off, setting it on the nightstand, and immediately sit up, wiping the sleep away from your eyes. It feels like your blood is already pumping – today is a big day, after all. It’s your first official mission, no less a mission with other people. Today is a day where you can prove his worth and show your loyalty to the higher-ups. 

You already have some clothes set aside for today – your usual sleeveless compression shirt and dark brown cargo pants and converse. After taking a shower and changing, you open the blinds to let in the morning sun shine into the room through the leaves of the trees outside. After the terrible weather from yesterday, it seems that today is a beautifully bright day. 

You smile to yourself, grabbing your notebook and pen. Closing and locking the door behind you, you exit the dormitories, heading to Yaga’s classroom so your team can be debriefed. As usual, you’re the first one there, so you take a seat at the desk you claimed during your first time there, putting your legs up on the table. 

“How are you feeling today?” Yaga asks as he looks up from his laptop, a pen in his right hand, papers in his left. It looks like he was doing paperwork for a mission the others must’ve been sent on recently. 

You reply with a thumbs up and a bright smile, which makes the older man relax, leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

While you both wait for the others to show up, you doodle silly drawings in the notebook to fight the boredom. You’re not an artist by any means, but it still helps to pass time. You drew the fish that were in the sign language book from yesterday, but this time, the koi fish is swimming happily with the two other betta fish in a small pond. 

You get pulled out of your intense focus when a manicured finger taps down on the top of the notebook, bringing your gaze up to meet Shoko’s. 

“Cute drawing,” she says, leaning over to see it better. 

You sign thanks a little bit flustered, flipping the notebook to a blank page. 

- How are you doing? :) 

“I’m good, thanks,” she replies, hopping onto the desk next to your own. She turns to look at her teacher. “Am I on time, sensei?” 

“Take a look at the clock yourself,” he seems to grumble. 

Five minutes past their agreed meeting time. “Ehh, close enough.” 

It takes another ten minutes for Gojo and Geto to show up together, fashionably late as always. Instead of wearing the hoodie he used to wear with the hood up to protect his eyes, Gojo has now switched into the full normal school uniform, along with the glasses you gifted him. 

“Yo!” The white-haired man casually greets Yaga, a wide smile spread across his face. 

“Fifteen minutes,” the man replies. 

“Huh?”

“ Fifteen minutes late!” You can nearly feel the ground shake from how loudly Yaga yells. “Are you two morons ??!” 

“Sorry sensei, it’ll never happen again, we promise,” Geto says, bowing at the waist in respect. When he notices Gojo doesn’t bow either, he shoves a hand at the back of his head to force him to follow. 

You share a deadpan look with Shoko. You seem to be having the exact same thought — it’ll happen next week, guaranteed. 

“...Well, now that you’re all here, we’ll debrief and you’ll leave as soon as I’m done explaining,” Yaga says, closing his laptop and setting his papers in a neat pile. “This curse has been reported near an abandoned concert venue, just on the outskirts of Hachioji. It’s a bit of a drive, but bear with me. It shouldn’t be too difficult–” he levels a deadly look in Gojo’s direction, “–it’s a simple Grade 2. Just remember to put a veil up, and don’t get injured. Shoko is staying behind today.” 

“No complaints from me,” she says before rolling her head side to side, trying to loosen up a kink in her neck. 

“Behave, you two,” he tells both Gojo and Geto before turning to you. “And you… just– I don’t know, do what you usually do, but don’t be a pain in the ass.” 

You salute him with a goofy smile spread across your face, making the teacher glare at you halfheartedly. Unbeknownst to you, the two young men in the room snicker behind you at your behaviour. 

With the meeting adjourned, the three of you walk through the Jujutsu school’s campus to make your way to the transport car, where the driver waits for you patiently. You all clamber into the car, Gojo sitting in the passenger seat because of his ridiculously long limbs. He seems that he doesn’t know what to do with them either, awkwardly shifting the seat back to make enough room to be comfortable. You sit directly behind him with Geto to your right. 

The car immediately speeds off, the view of trees and houses quickly blurring together. You wistfully look out of your window. The sun shines brightly through the leaves of the trees, making you squint a little and turn your head to the right, facing Geto instead, who is already looking at you. 

“Are you looking forward to exorcising your first curse?” He asks, resting his cheek on his fist. 

Thankful you didn’t forget your notebook today, you quickly write on the paper. 

- Yes, I hope we’ll make a good team. I’m aware you two are capable, but we should learn to work as a team properly. And I’m NOT(!!!!) just saying that because I’m scared of what Yaga might say if we end up causing a mess, I genuinely want to help with making Tokyo more safe. 

You doodle a small smiley face at the end of your paragraph, hopefully to drive your point home. You’re more than aware that the two of them are adept at this, but they can’t be the only two to do so. They should be able to rely on others, especially someone that doesn’t need as much rest, food or water like most humans do. 

“It’ll be a learning experience, for sure,” the raven-haired man humbly replies, before his eyes seem to sharpen, sending a teasing look in your direction as he reads the rest. “You’re sure you’re not afraid of Yaga?”

You shake your head back and forth vigorously, your arms forming an ‘x’ in protest. Absolutely, but I won’t tell these two that. 

Gojo abruptly turns around in his seat, leaning over the center armrest (and apparently pissing off the driver while doing it) and shoves his phone in Geto’s face. 

“Look, look!” He says, waving the phone around wildly in front of his friend’s eyes. 

“Dude, calm down,” Geto scoffs, yanking it from Gojo’s hands to take a look. “Seriously, Digimon?” 

“X-Evolution is finally out on DVD, we gotta watch it!!!” 

“Didn’t you see that movie, like, six times since its release?” He raises an eyebrow, shooting him a judgemental look. 

“Actually, it’s more like seven. Or eight,” he pauses, pushing his sunglasses up along the bridge of his nose. “Wait, actually, no, it was ten.” 

“You look like a total nerd,” Geto looks down at the screen again. “And somehow you want to watch it again ?” 

“Absolutely.”

The white-haired man says it with the most serious expression you have ever seen that you can’t help but snort lightly, covering your mouth with your hand when you realize it grabbed both of the men’s attention. For some reason, it makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable. So you settle back in your seat, leaning your head back and only turning your eyes back onto their lips to read the conversation once you’re absolutely sure Gojo’s piercing gaze is fixated back onto his friend. 

“Let’s pick up the DVD after the mission,” he says, grabbing his phone back from Geto’s hands, still continuing to lean over the armrest. 

“You mean you’ll pick it up,” he points at him. “I am not paying for that. You are literally rich.” 

“But it’s more special and meaningful and romantic when we pay for something together!” He whines, wrapping his long arms around the headrest and hugging it in faux-comfort. This man truly loves bringing out the theatrics , you think to yourself. 

“Allow me to disagree with you on that,” Geto says, a deadpan look on his face, before turning his head to the window. 

He seems to be saying something else, you can tell by the way his jaw moves, but you can’t see his lips from this angle. Whatever it is, it makes Gojo laugh and point at him, but by this point you don't bother following the conversation anymore, too confused. What the hell is Digimon, anyways? What’s a DVD? Sighing to yourself, you look outside, watching the scenery pass by. 

A little over half an hour passes by when the car makes it out to the outskirts, driving along a slim road. There are farmhouses and fields, buildings placed further apart from each other as it becomes more remote. Tokyo city has nothing compared to the lush greenery on Hachioji’s outskirts, and you can tell that it’s much more quiet here compared to the city. There’s no familiar rumbling of trucks that you have become accustomed to when walking along the pavement, instead it’s peaceful. You wonder if the birds chirp more loudly here. 

The driver drives up a steep hill, and the distant sight of a mountain covered in thick, healthy green trees greets your group. The car goes up, up, up and around the streets that bend along the hill before you come across a split in the road. The driver turns to the left onto an unpaved road, gravel bouncing against metal, and suddenly the sun seems to disappear underneath the canopy of leaves. 

The deeper you go onto this unpaved road, the less you come across houses, until there are none left. Instead, old, empty, rusty steel drums spray painted with arrows and different symbols replace them. There’s nothing around except for ‘ No Trespassing! ' signs. 

The vehicle comes to a sudden halt, and you feel the door underneath your palm shake slightly, meaning that the car is unlocked. You open the door with your notebook in hand, happy to stretch your legs out after spending nearly an hour travelling. You feel the dry twigs snap underneath your feet, dead leaves brushing against your ankles. The smell of fresh air fills your lungs, and you take a deep breath in. This is as close to heaven as it gets . You reach back into the car to grab your polearm that was laying on the floor in its holder, putting the strap around your chest so the weapon can rest against your back, leaving your hands free. 

There’s a quick tap on your shoulder, and you turn around to be face-to-face with Gojo, who looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses. Bright blue eyes stare at you, and you realize that it’s something that you’ll have to get used to, unless you want that smug bastard to tease you every time you get nervous from looking at him in the eyes. 

“Let’s go,” he says, thumbing behind him. “We have to walk a bit, and the driver is gonna stay with the car. Hope you like to hike.” 

You have to leg over the horizontal chain attached to two poles to block any cars from passing, and Gojo nearly trips over it, his hand immediately reaching out to your arm to steady himself before he can fall face first and accidentally eat a pile of dirt. 

“ Nice one, ” you sign with an eyebrow raised, the white-haired man standing back at full height, rubbing his hands against his uniform as if trying to wipe your cursed energy off of his skin. 

“I don’t know what you just said to me, but I don’t like your attitude, kiddo,” Gojo replies, taking a ‘ parent-disappointed-in-you ’ pose, arms crossed, hips jutting out. He’s about to retort with something else before he closes his mouth instead, jogging ahead to catch up to Geto, who was waving the two of you over impatiently. 

“Let’s just get this over with instead of messing around, alright?” The raven-haired man sighs, an exasperated look on his face. 

“You just wanna show off,” Gojo says, tucking his hands into his pockets before sauntering off. 

None of you speak a word amongst each other until you make it to a big, rundown building. It’s not as big as a stadium, but the concerts held here back in the day must’ve been fun with such an open area. 

“I wonder why they had a venue out in the middle of nowhere,” Geto says to you as he walks alongside you. “Seems a bit strange.” 

- More space? Beats me. 

You turn the page to face him after you finish writing, giving him a shrug of your shoulders. 

You’re just about to ask where Gojo went until a flash of bright white hair makes itself known in the corner of your eye. You see him waving at you both, motioning you to come closer to the building. 

“Slowpokes, over here!” 

Geto rolls his eyes, but follows him inside, and you follow suit. 

You’re greeted with a dark lobby, burst pipes leaking water and forming deep puddles on the ground. You can immediately feel the water seeping into your canvas shoes and socks, making your face scrunch up in distaste. At another glance, there are multiple stands labeled ‘Food’, ‘Alcohol’, ‘Merchandise’, and more. This must’ve definitely been a popular place. The paint is peeling off of the walls, and there’s graffiti sprayed against any space that isn’t occupied by mold or dirty, dripping water. You walk over to a concession stand, inspecting it and turning your back to the front doors where your group first walked in from. 

“Do you think Nirvana played here?” Gojo asks Geto, pointing at the large closed doors, presumably leading to the concert hall itself. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” 

Gojo pouts, kicking a fallen piece of pipe on the ground. “Jeez, you only had to say no.” 

Just as he’s about to open the big doors, he pauses, his whole body freezing up. Geto, upon noticing this, feels a wave of guilt wash over him, assuming his words actually insulted his friend. 

“Hey, you know I was just kidding, right?” 

“Get down!” Gojo whips around suddenly, calling out your name. Luckily, you had been looking at the two of them just as he spoke up, and the instant you read his lips, you duck, not even thinking twice. You feel a violent crack of air whip the top of your head – if you hadn’t moved in time, your head would’ve been sliced clean off. 

Twisting your body around, you look up, coming face-to-face with a group of low-levelled curses, one of them having long, razor-sharp cleavers for arms. They’re all mangled and twisted, ribs protruding out of their sides and wearing paper masks with strange symbols trying to imitate facial features. Their skin is almost human-like, but the fact that every inch of them is somehow warped together quickly puts that thought to rest. You reach for your back, about to pull out your polearm from its sheath, but you’re beaten to the punch as Geto runs up behind you, launching himself in the air and kicking Razor-arms in the face, sending it stumbling backwards. 

The other curses quickly retaliate, one of them trying to gain the upper hand while Geto is still in the air and grabbing his leg, slamming him down onto the hard floor. They’re about to bring down a finishing blow, but get interrupted by you finally taking out your polearm and slashing at their masks, making the group stumble back. Gojo immediately rushes over, splaying out his arms before bringing them together again and making rushed, complicated hand movements. The reaction is instantaneous – a large blue orb starts forming and the entire group of curses get sucked into it like a magnet, crashing together before turning into nothing. 

You and Geto get back on their feet. You’re shocked at what you just saw, mismatched eyes wide in surprise. Gojo just completely evaporated those curses as if it was nothing to him, not even a single drop of sweat wasted on them. This must be why he’s on such a constant high horse .

The white-haired man looks at you in disdain. “You’re a cursed spirit and you didn’t even feel your own kind?” He rolls his eyes. Well, there’s that classic Gojo that you first met – so much for his unexpected kindness from yesterday. 

You look around for your notebook, hoping to explain your lack of reaction better. Unfortunately, you find it where you nearly got decapitated, in a muddied puddle of water, completely ruined. Wonderful, you think to yourself. You can’t even be angry at the fact you were so careless just to toss it away at the first breath of danger, just annoyed. 

“Maybe you didn’t want to kill them,” he continues, making your eyebrows raise. It was hard not to be genuinely offended by that comment. “After all, they’re you.” 

“ They aren’t me at all, ” you try to be patient as you sign, but you can’t help the feeling of anxiety that pangs in your chest, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned. This is not how you wanted your first mission with others to go. 

“Satoru, that’s enough. If you want to nag them about this, do it later,” Geto interrupts the two of you, motioning vaguely to the big doors you had yet to go through. “Let’s get this done first.” 

Gojo decides to heed to his friend’s demands, mercifully giving you some space. You trail behind the white-haired man, looking down at your water-logged shoes, feeling a heavy weight on your shoulders. That is, until Gojo grabs you by the bicep to tug you forward to walk beside him. Surprised at the sudden action, you look up at him. 

“You’re too quiet, I won’t be able to hear if you get snatched up by a curse,” he explains through gritted teeth, looking up at the graffitied ceiling through his sunglasses. Refusing to actually acknowledge you, as if you’re more of an annoyance than teammate. 

You look forward, not bothering to dignify him with a reply. A tight feeling in your chest makes itself known, unpleasant and uncomfortable. 

“Seems weird to me that we haven’t run into the Grade 2 curse yet. Yaga didn’t tell us there would be any others besides it,” Geto turns around to face the two of you when you approach the door, an unsure look in his eyes. 

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly, walking up to the doors and tugging on the handles to pry them open. As soon as they swing ajar, a thick cloud of dust permeates through the air, making all of you cough violently as you breathe it in. Carefully, Geto takes the first step in, taking a flashlight out of the deep pocket of his pants, turning it on to illuminate the concert hall. 

The ceilings are high, and the venue has a main floor, balcony, and gallery. The seats are old and wrecked, a layer of dust, dirt and mold covering them all. Some are knocked over by miscreants, others are completely missing, and some are left untouched. The stage itself is decorated with even more graffiti, not a single inch left blank. 

Geto and Gojo are conversing about something, standing closer to each other than before, and it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what they’re discussing because of how dark the room is. If only the windows weren’t blacked out, then the room would have just enough light for you to lip-read. 

You’re about to wander off on your own to find the curse until there’s a powerful rumble underneath your feet, nearly making you lose your footing. Suddenly, a gigantic monstrosity crashes through the stage, sending wood and debris flying everywhere. The creature has multiple limbs, the most prominent features being its two front arms covering its ears, an unhinged jaw with far too many rows of teeth, with snot, sweat and tears running down every single orifice on its body. Its complexion is stark white, and there are strange neon tattoos along its other limbs. 

This must be the curse Yaga was talking about. 

This is definitely more powerful than a Grade 2 curse. 

Even with your lack of awareness of cursed energy, you can certainly tell that this is far beyond whatever was reported. 

There’s another powerful shake in the ground as the beast opens up its mouth, sending spittle flying everywhere. You ready your polearm, prepared to exorcise the curse, but you notice the lack of attack from your teammates. Gojo should be jumping at the opportunity to show off and waste another creature. Concerned, you take a quick glance behind your shoulder and notice that both Gojo and Geto are hunched over, covering their ears and clenching their jaws so hard that you can notice a prominent vein in the raven-haired man’s forehead popping out. 

You run over to them, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Geto’s back. Eyes that were once screwed shut crack open to look up at your worried gaze, and he weakly points to the huge curse on the stage. 

It suddenly dawns on you – the rumbling wasn’t from the pure size of this curse breaking through the wall, it was from its mouth. It’s screeching so loud to the point where everything is shaking. 

The curse stops screaming for a moment, turning its deformed body to look around, its singular huge eye locking straight onto you . A dense string of drool pools from the corner of its mouth onto the ground, creating a disgusting, thick puddle of mucus below it. 

Taking the short distraction to his advantage, Gojo starts to make those complicated hand signs again, but unfortunately the curse notices too quickly – it opens its mouth to continue shrieking at your group, making glass shatter all around you. It completely incapacitates Gojo and Geto, whose hands immediately go to cover their ears again. Upon closer inspection, you notice drops of blood running down both of their jaws; the curse is so loud it makes their ears bleed. 

And you can’t hear a thing. 

The resolution comes to you much more easily than you expected. You grip your polearm tightly in your left hand, running forward to give yourself enough momentum to throw yourself upwards, twisting your body in the air to bring the blade of your weapon forward. Just as it’s about to pierce the skin of the curse, it opens its mouth and makes such a powerful blast of noise that it sends you flying back in the air, roughly landing on your back against some seats on the top floor, in the gallery. 

You cough violently as the breath is knocked out of your lungs, but quickly gets back up onto your feet. The curse is already aiming one of its gangly legs in your direction, and you level it with a glare, unmoving until it brings its hand down. The second the large limb gets close enough for impact, you push your foot against the ground, sending you sideways and putting just the right amount of distance to avoid getting hit. 

Its arm gets jammed between the seats and concrete of the third floor, and you take the opportunity to hop onto the forelimb, running along it and bringing your polearm forward to take yet another swing at the curse. Just as expected, the curse tries to screech at you again, so you jump up, going above its head and somersaulting in the air to bring your weapon down. Just as you feel the blade make impact with solid skin, a mouth appears right where the blade is and swallows it whole. You don't have enough time to register the shock, but still have half a mind to use the rest of your momentum to fall back down onto the ground floor, where your teammates are still hunched over, clutching at their heads in agony. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain that must be rattling throughout their brain. 

You huff, wiping the sweat from your brow. With no more weapons in hand, you decide to take this curse seriously and be more cautious. This isn’t just a Grade 2 anymore, this is something definitely dangerous. But…

You don't want to use your powers in front of others. Knowing that you are capable of this destruction will only make others more fearful of you, and it’s the last thing you want. You don't want to be isolated again, or working and living with people who don’t trust you. You just want to help. 

You’re considering his options, glancing back at Gojo and Geto for a moment, a wave of concern washing over you. If you don't get rid of this curse soon, they’ll probably lose their hearing completely, if they haven’t already. Fuck, if only things weren’t so damn complicated–

You see the shock written across Gojo’s face before you feel the impact against your side. His blacked-out sunglasses dropped down to the tip of his bloody nose, the sides of his face covered in blood, but he still had enough consciousness left in him to register the curse creeping behind you, eyes widening as it pulls back a large hand and whips you across the room. 

You break through multiple layers of wood, feeling splinter after splinter embedding in your skin and ripping it open as they get caught onto other debris. Finally, you slam against the furthest wall, concrete cracking against your back from the sudden shock. Blood spurts from your mouth - definitely a few broken ribs - and you feel dizzy, but you can’t pass out just yet. You force yourself onto shaky legs, looking at the creature that seems to be preparing to release another bloodcurdling scream. 

Fuck it.

There’s a sharp spike of pain that courses throughout your body as you raise your right arm, aiming at the curse. With a snap of your fingers, an enormous explosion of cyan fire mixed with purple flames ignites the entire stage, crawling across the curse’s skin and making it wail out in pain – or at least, that’s what you think it's doing. You can feel the heat against your skin, sparks igniting and scorching the exposed part of your arms, sweat beading your forehead. Tears and mucus fly everywhere as the curse’s limbs reach out for release, anything, from the burning that is spreading all along its body. Multiple hands crunch concrete and wood underneath it, bringing half of the ceiling down on top of it, but the flames burn brightly until the violent rumbling underneath your feet becomes a simple vibration, then turns to nothing . 

You bring your right hand up again, palm facing the violent flames, then bring it back down to your side, making the fire dissipate completely, leaving behind a mountain of ashes and thick clouds of smoke in its wake. 

And just like that, it’s over. 

You breathe in and out deeply, ribs painfully screaming out in protest at the action, and you clutch at your side to try and alleviate the pain. That curse had quite the punch to it , you think to yourself. Looking up, you walk through the smoke to return to your teammates and check on them. The uncomfortable warmth from using your fire lingers in the building, making you feel like you’re in a sauna. Your nose scrunches as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, only to feel the moisture gather again. 

You know they’ll be horrified and disgusted. You feel a pang of sadness and guilt – they’ll never want to face you again. Gojo was right, you are a cursed spirit. You’ll only bring destruction and death to the people around you. You’re a monster.  

You do not expect the sight in front of you. Geto smiles at you in relief when he sees you appear through the thick clouds of smoke, though his eyebrows are knitted in concern when he sees you clutch your side. Gojo, however, beams at you, bright white teeth on display. His hands are covered in blood, but he doesn’t seem to mind it in the least. 

“Holy shit, why didn’t you tell us you could do that?!” Gojo exclaims, walking up to you and wiping the blood on the pants of his uniform. “You’re not as weak as I thought you were.” 

You stare at them, confused. Shouldn’t they be worried that you’d use this power against them? Isn’t this exactly what Gojo and the council of elders were afraid of? Eyes unblinking and unfocused, you give him a half-hearted shrug, feeling like you can barely move a muscle all of a sudden. 

This feels wrong. Bile rises at the back of your throat as uneasiness creeps along your spine – shouldn’t you be punished for unleashing your power like that? Gojo and Geto are obviously putting up a front. As soon as you all return to the school grounds, you’ll be thrown into confinement again, you’re sure of it. There’s no way this can end well for you. 

“Damn, my head is killing me,” Gojo says, bringing you out of your inner turmoil. “Let’s head back, I need to fix my poor eardrums.” 

Geto wordlessly follows, your eyes glued to the ground below you as your eyes go back to feeling clouded, mind feeling foggy as your body moves on autopilot. The tips of your fingers are tingling, hands and arms feeling numb as you feel like you’ve detached from yourself, a third-person view to your own life. You feel nothing until you collide into Geto’s muscular back, feeling your ribs throbbing in pain. 

Wondering why the raven-haired man came to a sudden stop, you focus back on the moment at hand, looking up at him. Geto looks concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he clasps his chin in between his fingers. He eventually closes his eyes in frustration, lips downturned. 

“Did any of us put up a veil?” He asks. 

Gojo turns his head around slowly, the smile on his face frozen. You feel cold sweat gathering at the back of your neck.

“Oh, fuck.” 

It’s pitch black by the time the car returns to campus, all staff and students already tucked in for the night besides Gojo, Geto, and yourself. It’s nearing one in the morning, as Gojo forced the driver escorting you to stop by a DVD store to pick up the latest Digimon movie, then dinner, then snacks too. Thankfully, he paid for everything. 

The best part about the situation is that Yaga is an early sleeper, so none of you have to face his wrath about messing up the veil until tomorrow morning when you have to debrief. You’re all too tired to deal with being slapped over the head by a ruler. It’s the small mercies that make all the difference. 

The streetlamps and the moon are the only things illuminating the pathway to the dormitory building, all three of you lugging your own plastic bags filled with goodies back to Gojo’s room. You place it down next to the door as the white-haired man goes to unlock it, and turn to leave to go back to your own room until you feel a large, warm hand grasp your right wrist. Your head snaps back, turning to face Gojo. 

“Where’re you going?” He asks, frowning and tilting his head to the side. “We’re all watching a movie together, c’mon. You don’t have a choice.” 

Your mouth drops open slightly, confused. “ Okay, ” you sign with your free hand, letting it awkwardly hang in the air. As subtle as possible, you yank your wrist free from Gojo’s hold, feeling the warmth spread along your arm through the bandages. 

Gojo’s room is tidy, for the most part. There’s a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his room, right next to the laundry basket, and his bed is left unmade, blankets strewn everywhere. However, the desk is set up in a precise way, the chair is tucked in, and all the pens are lined up straight. The posters in his room are mostly all of Digimon and some other movies that you don't know. The TV is parallel to his bed that is pressed up against the wall, exactly like yours is, and there are a few bean bag chairs on the ground in front of it. 

Geto immediately launches himself on top of one, letting his body sink into it and letting himself relax. Gojo sets up the large array of snacks on his desk after putting his pens away, putting his favourite ones on the right. You continue awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, observing him as he puts chips in a large bowl. His head twists to the door suddenly and he opens it up, revealing Shoko. 

Her brown hair is a bit of a mess, and she looks exhausted, but she manages to muster a small grin when her eyes land on you, waving at you. 

Wordlessly, Gojo pulls out the chair underneath his desk and sits in it, Shoko immediately walking behind him and puts her hands over his ears. A small glow of cursed energy emits from her hands soon after, and you can see the way the white-haired man visibly deflates in the chair. A few minutes pass, and she strolls over to Geto, leaning over to do the same thing to him. 

She goes to you last, hands hovering in the air. 

“I’m still not sure if I can even heal you, considering last time,” she says, looking at you with a hesitant look in her eye. “But your ribs need to be looked at, at the very least.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t heal them?” Geto asks, lifting his head up from the bean bag. 

“I tried to heal their nose, but I couldn’t,” she replies rather simply. “Sorry, this might hurt a bit.” 

Her hands press against your ribcage, and you inhale sharply, trying to stay still as Shoko’s cursed energy resonates against you. 

“See, it’s not letting me,” she says, looking at you then at the other two men. “I can feel their injuries – just bruised ribs – but I can’t properly heal them. I can feel that they’re hurt, but it’s like every single part of them is, and my technique can’t pinpoint the source of where they’re actually injured at the moment.” 

Geto looks over at you thoughtfully, his gaze raking up the entire length of your body. His eyes land on the bandages carefully wrapped around your arms, still securely in place even after the encounter with the curse. His eyes narrow – maybe Shoko’s cursed energy is focusing on whatever is hidden beneath the bandages. You notice his stare and nervously shuffle in place, which makes Shoko grab you by the biceps to keep you still. 

“Don’t move,” she tells you, frowning. “Do you have any more clean bandages?” 

You nod your head, holding a finger up. Be right back, you mouth, then walk out of Gojo’s dorm to go to your own room. You unlock the door, being greeted with a pitch-black room. Quickly flicking the lights on, you rummage through one of the drawers of your dresser for the bandage wraps. You feel the familiar scratchy fabric brush against your fingers, and grab a roll out. As you go to close the door and make your way back to the group, you take a final look at your room. 

It feels more empty and desolate than usual. You’ve never associated this feeling with your own dorm room before, and it’s not something you like. There’s a tug at your chest, something at the back of your mind telling you to return to the others, and you decide to listen.

Shoko smiles when she sees the bandages in your hand, taking the roll from you and motioning you to take your compression shirt off, tugging at the edge of it. 

You press your lips together awkwardly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe you should’ve just stayed in your room, after all . However, the look she gives you says enough – you don't have much of a choice. You exhale deeply out through your nose, acquiescing. The shirt is covered in the curse’s mucus and sticks to your skin, nearly making you gag as you take it off, feeling the slime stick to you. 

“Jesus, what the hell were you guys fighting?” Shoko’s gaze is fixed on the two other men who look equally grossed out, thinking at the bodily fluids from earlier. When she turns her head to look back at you, her eyes immediately land on your exposed chest, eyebrows raising slightly. “Ohh… I kinda guessed.” 

The scars on your chest aren’t something you’re ashamed of, but it’s still something that you consider private. You understand that you’re taking his shirt off purely for medical reasons, but it still feels like you’re exposing a side of yourself that only one other person knows. And now, other people know, people whose opinions you care about. 

“I appreciate you feeling comfortable enough to do that,” Shoko says your name, looking directly into your mismatched eyes. “It means a lot.” 

That makes you smile for the first time in hours. You nod, looking down bashfully as the eye contact is a bit too much for you right now. Your eyes eventually flicker to both Gojo then Geto, the latter giving you an encouraging thumbs up. You notice that both of them have changed into different clothes, out of their dirtied uniforms and into t-shirts and sweatpants. You look over to the white-haired man, who has shoveled a bunch of sweets into his mouth. He’s saying something, but it’s too hard for you to lipread when half his face is covered by food. Gojo seems to realize this, swallowing everything down in one large gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“We don’t care about that stuff, dude,” he tells you. “You don’t have to worry about us judging you.” 

You sign your earnest thanks, warmth spreading across your cheeks. 

“Yeah, seriously, I’m more worried about the bruises,” Shoko says, pointing to the darkened skin.

She then raises your arms, unfurling the bandage roll and starting to wrap it around your torso. The pressure is uncomfortable and makes your body ache, and you can’t help your eyes from scrunching closed – it’s been a while since you’ve gotten injured like this, and it doesn’t seem to get any easier. 

As soon as she’s done bandaging you up, you reach for your discarded shirt before Gojo’s hand stops you, grasping your wrist. He seems to have a knack for touching you. 

“Nuh-uh, no way are you putting that back on when it’s covered in that shit,” he yanks the shirt out of your clutches. “And get out of those pants too, they reek. You aren’t allowed in my room if you keep wearing those.” 

“You know, if you want to see them naked that bad, you could’ve been more subtle,” Shoko teases Gojo, a wide grin spread across her face, provoking him to try and trip her with his long legs. 

“Fuck off,” he says, though the tips of his ears are turning red. “That isn’t what I meant, go smoke outside or something…” He proceeds to shove a white t-shirt and some grey sweatpants into your arms before addressing you. “Just go change in the bathroom.” 

You nod, a smile playing upon your lips. Though Gojo’s attitude towards you has been fluctuating like crazy today, you’re grateful that the man still has enough decency left in him to give you clean clothes. 

You close the door to the bathroom, turning the light on and being greeted by the sight of yourself in the mirror. Your face immediately drops. The reminder of Suliman’s permanent mark on you stares back at you, the magenta eye seemingly haunting every corner of your mind. You look down to your left arm, thankfully still covered. There’s no trace of the curse mark peeking through. 

You quickly tug the oversized t-shirt on, the fabric soft and delicate against your skin – it must’ve cost Gojo a pretty penny for it. Next, you take your ruined cargo pants off, tugging the sweats up. The ankles of the pants are way too long and cover your feet, but you’ll have to work with it. After tightening the drawstring of the pants to make sure they don’t slip down your hips, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. 

You only see the version of yourself that you were with Suliman. A mess of a monster, clinging to any humanity blessed upon it. A glutton for a life worth living, but the hunger for curiosity was its ultimate punishment. At any moment, Geto and Gojo will most likely realize what a terrible creature you are and become disgusted with you. 

You can’t look at yourself any longer, opening the door of the bathroom and joining the others again. You force yourself to ignore the thoughts gnawing at the back of your mind, determined to enjoy the most of your night.

Gojo has the TV turned on now, delicately placing a metal disc in the strange contraption underneath the television. He has a notebook and pen in his other hand, and the second his eyes land on you, he stands up straight, walking over and grabbing your hand to place the notebook and pen in your hold. 

“There you go,” it’s hard to tell what he says because his mouth barely moves, as if he’s trying to keep the conversation just between yourselves, but you make out just enough to understand. Gojo then steps back, flopping onto the other free beanbag chair, a black brick with buttons in his hand – you have never seen anything like that before. 

- What’s that thing that Gojo has? And what’s the round shiny thing? And the thing under the TV? 

You nearly shove the notebook in Geto’s face, making his shoulders shake lightly with laughter. 

“You’ve got lots of questions about things, don’t you?” He tilts his head to the side, a small smile on his face. “That’s a remote, he’s putting the DVD in the player so we can watch a movie.” 

“...You do know what a movie is, right?” Shoko asks as she walks over with a bowl of snacks in hand. She puts a big pillow on the ground, plopping herself right in between the bean bags. 

You nod your head, deciding to sit down on the edge of Gojo’s bed, legs dangling right behind Shoko. 

“Which one’s your favourite?” Gojo turns around to watch the conversation unfold, finger hovering over the ‘play’ button. 

You shrug. Yaga has talked about his favourite movies in the past, but you never ended up watching any together. 

- I don’t know, I’ve never watched any before. 

As soon as you turn the notebook around for the others to read, Gojo’s face drops, and he looks horrified. 

“You are the most boring person I know,” he says, instantly getting a slap on the back of his head from Geto. “Ouch!”

“Do you have any self awareness?” Geto glares at him. 

“But their life sounds so dull! No boba or movies? What the hell was sensei doing, was he keeping you locked up in a dungeon or what?!” He raises his arms to gesture at you. 

Well, it wasn’t a dungeon. Though you decide to keep your hands by your side instead of saying anything. It would probably make Gojo more aggravating. You just aggressively point at the remote instead, then at the TV. 

“Gladly,” he replies, pressing play. “Prepare to be amazed .” 

Shoko turns to look up at you from the ground, a conspiratorial look on her face. “I think this is a good time to tell you that Satoru is the biggest Digimon nerd on the entire planet. Don’t be fooled, he could ramble about the entire lore for hours.” 

You quietly laugh as Gojo gives her an offended look. “I am proud to know every single detail about Digimon, thank you very much.” 

“That is not the flex you think it is,” Geto says with a deadpan look on his face, before he takes a handful of chips into his mouth. Noticing your eyes on him, he offers the bag to you. “They’re barbecue flavoured.” 

You happily munch away on the snacks as the movie rolls, the colours completely enrapturing you. The closed captioning was the cherry on top, too; you’re able to understand everything so easily, a wide grin on your face as you follow along with the story. If only you could have that in person whenever someone talked to you, then you may not feel so isolated from everyone else. Absent-mindedly, you grab one of the pillows on the bed and hug it in your arms, hunching over as your head rests on top of it and crossing your legs. 

All of your friends seem engaged, cheering and laughing. The characters look incredibly strange, but their designs are enticing to you, and Gojo seems to love this movie, so you keep your entire attention on the screen. 

However, the weight of everything that has happened today seems to finally be catching up to your body, and you feel your eyelids droop, a muted yawn slipping past your lips. Gojo’s bed is so comfortable, the mattress soft and malleable underneath you, so you can’t help but lay your body down, half-opened eyes still trained on the screen. The colours seem to mix together eventually, and you can’t keep your eyes open, letting the comforting embrace of sleep lull you. 

You don't even feel it when you fully fall asleep. 

There’s someone shuffling the covers, trying to be as delicate as possible as to not wake you up. You’re so tired that you let them move you around, feeling your head sink into the softest pillow you’ve ever felt. Then something warm envelops your body, and you fall unconscious again. 

Halfway through the night, you wake up again, fully opening your eyes. It’s completely dark in the room, save for the blinds drawn back, the moonlight illuminating some parts of it. You’re covered by a fluffy blanket, still laying over the duvet – someone must’ve placed it over you. You see Geto and Shoko both sleeping soundly on the floor on futon mattresses, the beanbags discarded to another corner of the room. 

But, where is… 

You feel movement from behind, and cautiously turn around, seeing the back of Gojo’s head, his white hair now a blue hue from the moonlight. He seems to be asleep too, shoulders slowly moving as he breathes slowly in rhythmic patterns, shoulders relaxed, and you smile. After the long day you’ve all had, you deserve a good night’s rest. 

You go back-to-back once more with Gojo, prepared to fall back asleep. You tuck your chin into the fluffy blanket, ready to close your eyes, but your gaze lands on the nightstand next to the bed. 

The notebook and pen that you were given earlier lay on the nightstand, with Gojo’s sunglasses neatly placed on top of the open notebook. 

Three different handwritings are scribbled on the paper. One is messy, almost ridiculously so, the other is neat, and the last is incredibly precise. All three read the same thing. 

- Goodnight. 

You smile. 

And you finally let yourself fall back asleep.

[frootloopscos]

Play Time!!

"Mx. (Y/n)!" Jack said, his little fluffy tail wagging behind him happily, "it's your turn!" (Y/n)'a eyes widened in 'shock' "oh is it? I completely forgot that I have to have a turn too! You all are just so cool!" That got a giggle out of the kids and they smiled. "Well as you all know, my name is (Y/n) (L/n), I'd say my favorite thing to do is snuggle with my kitty Grim." They said, Epel's eyes widen in amazement, "you have a kitty Mx. (Y/n)?!" The Enby nods with a smile, "maybe if you're all really good, when I come back here in two days then I'll bring him in for a visit okay?" The kids all nodded happily and they clapped their hands together.

"Alright then, I'd say it's play time!" The kiddos jumped up happily and Epel went over to (Y/n). The Enby crouched down to his height, "what's up bud?" They asked with a grin, Epel fiddled with his sleeves before looking up at them, "will you play trucks with Me and Jack?" He asked, "awe, of course I will!" They said standing and ruffling up his lilac locks, Epel smiled and too their hand, leading them over to a corner of the room where Jack was waiting, his tail swaying anxiously. Then the small beastman looked up seeing the caretaker his tail sped up and he grinned. Epel sat down and patted the spot next to him for (Y/n) to do the same.

After sitting the two boys showed (Y/n) everything in the little bin of cars, they'd even gotten permission from Mr. Trein to use some books so they could make a 'ramp' (Y/n) clapped at their achievement and patted them both of the head. Their eyes widening slightly when Jack leaned in for more headpats. A small chuckle came from them and they lightly scratched behind his fluffy ear, "alright you two, I'm gonna go check on the other kids, then I'll be back alright?" Both of them pouted but begrudgingly agreed. (Y/n) got up from the floor and left them to their trucks.

(Y/n) looked around the room to see who they could check up on and their eyes landed on the little robot. They walked over to him and crouched down, "hey there Ortho, what are you doing here?" They asked, Ortho looked up and his digital eyes brightened, if it wasn't for the mask on his face he'd probably be smiling. "Hi Mx. (Y/n)!" Ortho said happily, "I'm drawling a picture of big brother and me! Look look! We're playing video games here, and over here it's us hugging, oh and here is Idia, me, and you all together!" He said pointing to each part in his 'drawling' "awe, Ortho that's so sweet, I'm sure he'll love it." (Y/n) said and ruffled his blue hair, taking a mental note that it wasn't actually fire. "Alright bud, I'm gonna go check on the other okay?" "Kay!" He said and continued with his art.

(Y/n)'s ears perked up on something they really didn't want to hear, especally not on their first day. "No! You gotta play with the wand yesterday! s' not fair!" "Is too! I got here first fair and square!" Oh boy, the Enby walked over to the two kids who were fighting. Who were these two again? Base and Juice? No..oh! Ace and Deuce! "Hey kiddos, what are we fighting about here? I don't think we should be fighting with our friends shoudl we?" They asked in a lightly stern tone. Both young boys looked down "no..." they both said and pouted. Deuce's head then shot up as he pointed at Ace. "S' not fair though! He got to play with the wand yesterday, and the day before!" (Y/N) hummed in thought and nodded. "Alrighty, let me see what I can do okay?" They asked and stood up, "Ace can I see the wand please?" They asked holding out their hand. Ace frowned and slowly gave them the wand. "Thank you bud, I'll be right back okay?" They said and left the two boys, for now they moved on to check on Sebek. Keeping an eye on the two just incase.

Sebek seemed to be scribbling all over a piece of paper. "Sebek? What are you doing kiddo?" (Y/N) asked as they looked at what he was doing. Sebek looked up at them and covered his paper, "I'm making my armor human! Come back later!" He yelled at them, (Y/N) raised their hands in surrender with a small smile, "alright alright, just let me know if you need help alright?" They said and left, going over to Trein. "These kids sure are something, you think I could take this home?" They asked holding up the want they took from Ace and Deuce.

Trein simply nods, "yes, you may. These kids are definitely a handful at times, luckily they calm down during lunch or nap time. Then after nap, we'll be going outside." He explained, setting Lucien down on the floor, the cat walked over to (Y/N) and brushed against their legs. The enby smiles and bends down to pet him. "Good to know," they said picking up the cat and looking at the kids. Luckily taking the wand from the red blue duo seemed to be the best option as they were now happily playing together. They sighed in relief and looked to the other kids. A soft smile on their face.

————- Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that this took so long! I'll be trying to update regularly soon! I promise!

Word count: 935

Uploaded To Wattpad: May 8th, 2023

Uploaded to Tumblr: Jan. 31st, 2024

Edited: Aug 29th, 2023

[sentimental-idiot25]

It was Sakura's first full day back at the hospital after her long mission with Sasuke. This time, she was returning for an entire day's shift, not just rushing in for emergencies or major crises. It also meant leaving Sarada and Sasuke at home, which made her feel a mix of anticipation and longing.

Over the past year, Sarada had grown and achieved new milestones. She was walking and expanding her vocabulary, although her sentences remained incomplete. Despite that, Sasuke and Sakura always understood what she was trying to express.

As Sakura gathered her belongings near the door, Sasuke picked up Sarada from her play area, and they all gathered by the exit.

"Are you all ready to go?" Sasuke asked.

Sakura sighed and replied, "Yeah, I think so." She lovingly cupped Sarada's cheeks, using a baby voice, "But I'll miss you!" She planted a kiss on Sarada's cheek, prompting giggles as Sarada buried her head in Sasuke's shoulder. Turning to face Sasuke, Sakura extended the same affectionate gesture, cradling his face with her hand. "And, of course, I'll miss you too," she said, leaning in to give Sasuke a gentle kiss on the lips.

Finally, Sakura turned around, her hand gripping the doorknob to the exit. Glancing back at her beloved family, she couldn't help but feel a bittersweet pang of longing. "Alright, I'll be back home late... I love you two!" she declared.

"Love you, Sakura," Sasuke replied.

"Wub you!" Sarada exclaimed, reaching out for Sakura.

Sakura's face beamed with the widest smile, cherishing the moment as it was Sarada's first attempt at saying "I love you" or something close to it.

"I love you!" Sakura joyfully replied.

"Lob you!" Sarada repeated, reaching out even more for her mother.

Unable to contain her overflowing emotions, Sakura let go of the doorknob, clutching her heart. "I LOVE YOU!"

Sarada playfully pushed Sasuke's face away with her two little hands and nearly leaped out of his arm. "I LOB YOU!"

"Oh!" Sakura held her face, pretending to be taken aback. "Sasuke, how am I supposed to leave?" She walked over to the two and held Sarada tightly. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she said, "It's not like I can take you to work...unless--"

"No, Sakura," Sasuke interjected.

"You're no fun Sasuke,” Sakura teased, showering Sarada with more kisses all over her face. "I love you!" She exclaimed one last time before reluctantly handing her back over to Sasuke, who was pouting, “What’s with the face?” She asked laughing. 

“Nothing,” He said stoically. 

“You want kisses too?” She asked playfully with her eyebrow raised. 

Sasuke blushed slightly as he pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. 

 Sakura couldn't help but laugh at Sasuke's stoic response. She playfully nudged him. "Oh, come on, Sasuke. Don't be shy. I know you secretly want kisses too."

Sasuke's cheeks tinged with a faint blush, but he tried to maintain his composure. "It's not necessary. I'm fine."

Sakura raised an eyebrow, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Are you sure about that? I have a feeling you're just holding back your inner romantic."

Sasuke let out a barely perceptible sigh, his resolve weakening. He pursed his lips and nodded ever so slightly, unable to hide his desire for a kiss.

Sakura grinned triumphantly. "Ah, I knew it!" She leaned in closer, her lips tantalizingly close to Sasuke's. "Well, if you insist, I suppose I can spare a few kisses for my ever-brooding husband."

Unable to resist any longer, Sakura planted a series of quick, playful kisses on Sasuke's cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth and affection. Each peck brought a subtle smile to Sasuke's usually serious face.

Sarada watched the exchange with wide eyes, giggling at her parents' playful interaction. "Mama lob papa!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

“I don’t know…” Sakura said, “Does Papa lob Mama?” She asked Sasuke with a smirk. 

He closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh, “Of course.” 

 “Glad to hear it,” Sakura said, “Oh look at the time! I have to go!” She said after looking at the clock on the wall.

 “I love you both!! Be good!” She said as she exited through the door.