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wannaeatramyeon · 3 months ago

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Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty.

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :)

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class."

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated.

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers.

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more.

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring.

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

#lookism #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #park jonggun #wannaeatramyeon

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the-daydreaming-show · 10 months ago

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❝never a tear, baby of mine❞ — Jason Todd

dick's version

Jason was a quiet kid. So quiet and calm that he didn't was totally a child, more was like a mini adult.

NOTE:

This is like REALLY late, because I had problems with my internet and the power on me going out, so I apologize for that.

As always, thanks to our beta reader: @igotmessymind.

And wiht no further ado, I hope you find wait worth it, I apologize again and that you for reading!!

XOXO ELLA.

This story is part or the BATMOM SCARLET WITCH UNIVERSE that I have create. I hope you enjoy!!!

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

WARNINGS: Mentions of child neglect; Jason (not his actual) mom death.

Contrary to popular belief, Dick was always the son who kept you and Bruce on the edge of your seats.

People were always surprised when you told them this. Probably, because with those blue eyes and adorable dimples, your eldest son knew how to fool people so easily. But the boy had grown up in the circus and had more energy than a thunderbolt. You couldn't count the times you found him hanging from the ceiling lamps, practicing his pirouettes. He was the reason there was a strict rule at Wayne Manor about not taking your feet off the ground without adult supervision.

Jason, your baby, he was easy. People were shocked at this statement as well.

People expected him to be a little savage whenever you guys made a public appearance, whether it was at a gala or going to the market.

Yes. You had to keep him from talking to the press, because he had a habit of being verbally deadly, but other than that he was always the calmest of kids. But other than that, he never left his calm character at all times when being in public and in private as well.

This unfounded popular belief probably had something to do with the boy being taken off the streets by you and your husband. Literally.

Your husband kidnapped a child from an alley in Gotham on a given winter night.

Mmmh, maybe Bruce was your most chaotic boy and not Dick like you thought.

You weren't in the batcave that night, so Alfred was the one supervising the computer. But when it got particularly late, just before the sun began to rise, you woke up to find that your husband still wasn't sleeping clinging to your waist like he usually did. So you decided to go downstairs to see what was going on.

You meet Alfred, waiting with a tray with three cups of freshly brewed tea.

“Are we expecting someone, Alfred?” you asked as you approached the man preparing everything with elegance.

“That's right, Miss” the man said, looking up with amused eyes “Master Bruce has found company on tonight's patrol” he gave you the look of a father disappointed but not surprised by his son's actions. But before you could say more or ask questions, the sound of the Batmobile in the distance made you approach the platform where the car typically parked.

Bruce jumped out of the car, in his Batman suit, without any injuries that you could see, then leaned over to help a small body out of the vehicle. He was a boy, skinny to the bone, in your eyes, dressed inappropriately for the weather, and looking around with startled eyes. You looked at your husband in confusion, Bruce could practically see the question mark on your forehead. So he walked over to you, while the boy was too gawking at the cave to notice that you guys were talking to the side.

“¿Did you kidnap a child again?” you asked in a worried whisper.

“No” Bruce defended himself, pulling off the hood of his suit so that you could see all of his beautiful face in front of you. “His name is Jason” he explained to you while they both looked at the boy for a moment. Jason had stepped away from the Batmobile to look down at the edge of the platform at the void below you, his cheeks against the metal of the railings. (You were mentally grateful to have convinced Bruce to put those railings all over the cave, after that Dick started spending more time there years ago). “And I found him trying to steal the tires from the Batmobile. He was alone, and he told me that he intended to sell it to buy food” he told you, and you instinctively looked at said car.

That beastly car had almost been desecrated by the little hands of a hungry child, who didn't seem at all affected by the idea of almost robbing THE Batman. You found the situation amusing.

“Really?”, you asked your husband, smiling amused.

All while Jason was looking fascinated at the ceiling of the cave and wondering: ¿Where did the lights hang from?. He couldn't see the roof of the place.

“Yeah. And he almost got away with it.” Bruce seemed almost proud of the boy's actions, and you couldn't feel the same way. Press your lips together in an attempt not to laugh out loud.

“¿And how does all that explain your kidnapping him?” you asked teasingly, to which Bruce rolled his eyes in exoneration and giggled impishly at it.

“You are Bruce Wayne's wife” the boy's voice made them both look at him, but the boy was not intimidated and kept talking. “Which makes sense, because if Bruce Wayne is Batman, obviously his wife will know.” he said, more like a thought out loud than a conversation with you. “My mom used to say that she would die from one of the shoes you put up and that they showed on TV, but in the end she died from the drugs, not your shoes” he explained naturally. To which you threw your head back a bit in surprise at such a natural statement about something that must have been very sad. Looking at your husband and his eyes told you it was the first time he heard about this. “I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Wayne.” the boy apologized quickly, suddenly very aware that he was talking to two of the richest people in Gotham (and the world as well) “B told me I could spend the night here. But don't worry tomorrow, in the morning I'll leave without causing any problems” he quickly explained to you.

You looked at your husband again, and he left a memory in his mind for you to see as an explanation. He showed you how he had found the boy, how Bruce had talked him into agreeing to let him buy something to eat and then offered him a place to sleep, because the boy admitted that he was all alone. With a dead mother and a father who was in prison, the boy lived on the streets of Gotham, surviving as best he could. Jason hadn't trusted him at first, which was understandable. Who knew what he had seen living on the streets of a city like Gotham. So Bruce did the only thing he could think of to gain the boy's trust, so he could get him to safety, as he took off his mask. And Jason, faced with such a show of honesty, agreed to get on the Batmobile to return with Bruce to the cave. (Or, Bruce put the boy in the car before he could get over the shock of the news. It depends on how you look at it.)

“Oh honey. Don't worry, it doesn't bother me at all, we have plenty of space available” you assured him with a sweet smile to which the boy smiled back. It was true, since Dick had moved in with the Titans, there was too much empty space for your liking. “Come, sit down and have some tea, it will help with the cold” you said, pointing up the stairs to the main platform of the cave.

“Cool!” the boy exclaimed as they started walking. Bruce instinctively reached for your hand, not wanting you to stray too far from him, just because.

Then Jason ate a dozen of Alfred's cookies, drank all his tea, and at the end, Bruce let him touch the batcomputer, watching the boy's fascination with all the buttons. (Of course, the latter was under your and Bruce's watch. You didn't want the boy to activate some self-destruct protocol or something). He played with the satellite map for a while, showing you the places he had been and the school he used to go to before his mother died. Then he started to yawn, and you were sure the sun should have risen outside by that point.

“Well, it's time to go up” you said when you saw him yawn widely for the third time. “Come on” you stood up from your seat next to him to offer him your hand. The boy frowned at you, severely confused.

“¿Up where?” he asked, looking at your hand suspiciously, but rising to take it and follow you nonetheless. You had that effect on him. You were so pretty, and warm, and kind that he thought to himself, there was no way you were real, surely all of this must be a cruel hallucination of some kind.

“Up home, Jay” you told her as you turned to be greeted by a Bruce who had already come out of his suit and was waiting for them both on the stairs to the elevator. “We're below Wayne Manor” you explained, thinking that he was confused as to what was above your heads and why they would go there.

“Will you let me sleep in your mansion?!” the surprised boy asked. There was definitely something wrong there, there was no way two of the richest people in the city would let him sleep in his house, in one of his beds, with expensive mattresses and even more expensive sheets. Impossible.

“Of course” you said with a sweet smile, “We have many empty rooms and now one of them is yours”

“Your room is ready, young Jason.” Alfred told him, joining the walk to the elevator. “Though maybe an extra cookie or two was left in the room by accident. I hope that's not a problem for you” he said, smiling complacently, at which the boy laughed mischievously. You gave him a look that Alfred pretended not to catch, and they all went on their way while.

“I didn't think you would let me sleep at your house.” the boy admitted shyly, looking at his shoes, once again thinking aloud.

It took you a second to realize that Jason had thought she'd leave him sleeping in the cave, like a stray dog, and it broke your heart. You promised yourself to do everything you could to make that little boy feel like he deserved nothing less than the best in the world.

Jason didn't leave the mansion after that day.

Social Services didn't put up much resistance to the adoption, for two reasons. Firstly, you and Bruce already had a pretty good record of adopting and raising Dick. And second, stirring up the issue too much would show how they hadn't looked for Jason after he had run away from his last home. From what you've seen, his file only contains basic information leading up to the fact that he was supposed to be in foster care with 10-15 other kids, but clearly they've been on the streets for quite some time. And Jason seemed to have adjusted quickly when the caseworker came to visit for the first few weeks, at least to her standards. But in your eyes, the child was far from having adapted to the idea of being part of the family.

Jason gets up early, before everyone else in the house.

You had learned from the experience with Dick that establishing a strict bedtime schedule was important in the long run. So you knew he was sleeping because you watched him before you went to sleep yourself. So the boy sleeps well and you could confirm it. He had admitted to you that it had been difficult in the early days to sleep at night because he could never really be asleep while living on the streets. Something about the heavy blankets over him made him fall asleep peacefully. His lights went out before he could even finish laying his head on the pillow. Of course, this one you had invested a lot of money in more blankets for the child, which was the only thing that Jason had allowed to be bought for his room.

He assured you that the room was fine as is, and it did not need to be changed. What you'd called bullshit all along, because there was no way a kid would like a room that was the closest thing to a blank page. But you hadn't pushed him, waited until he was more comfortable in the new environment.

So the boy was sleeping in a guest room he didn't want to make entirely his own. He was up before anyone else in the house, even Alfred. He would get ready and go down to breakfast alone. He got what he needed by scaling the counter and cabinets if necessary, leaving Alfred to clean up the marks on his slippers. This until Jason overheard him, after which he started taking off his sneakers before climbing up to find the cereal. He ate breakfast in silence, looking out the kitchen window at the patio, then washed everything he had used by hand, even though there is a state-of-the-art dishwasher in the kitchen. He then left the kitchen and got lost in the mansion.

Bruce found him in the mansion's library a couple of times. Jason said that he was trying to practice his reading, since he hadn't been to school since before her mom died because he had to take care of her when her dad was arrested. Your husband offered his help, but the boy refused. And since Jay realized that his hideout had been discovered, he began to roam the mansion, picking random rooms to hide in during the day when you and Bruce began to keep him company in the library.

The child hides and avoids both of you. You at first thought that was a repeat of Dick's first few months, that Jason was mad at the world. Consequently, you would expect anger and yelling anytime you ran into Jason around the mansion. You mentally braced yourself for the thought of all that chaos again, how he would sneak out of school when he started once the holidays were over and the whole package was over.

This time, you were ready and prepared to help him with that rage. You won't let it consume you like Dick did for a long time because you didn't know how to handle it. This time you will do well.

But Jason's eyes would light up when you or your husband greeted him in the mornings after meeting him at the house. He clung to the hands of one or both of you every time you went out into the street. He would hug your waist when you hid him from the paparazzi in the park. (You had a no-photos rule for your kids, only official photos approved by you and your husband, so you and the paparazzi didn't have the best relationship in the world.) He let you guys hug him and look at him without problem. He never initiates affection, but he clung to it when it was given to him, both from you and from Bruce, or Alfred even.

So you were confused, to say the least.

However, you had learned your lesson with Dick. There were situations in which you had to be active and aggressive to help your children. So you talked to Bruce and you both decided it was time to talk to Jason about this peculiar pattern.

Then Alfred told you that if they both faced him at the same time, it would be too intimidating for the boy, causing him to shut down more than help.

Blessings be Alfred. He has always been the smartest in the house (don't tell that to Bruce).

Like every night, Jason had already gotten ready and tucked themselves into bed. Also, he had offered to help Alfred with the cleaning like every day, but the butler had refused as he did a lot lately. So he decided to do the whole night routine without bothering you: he brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas, got into bed and read a book, like you usually offer to do. It cost him less than before, but still some words were complicated.

You arrived shortly after he had finished reading his fourth story of the night and had accidentally gotten hooked on reading another one. You knocked on the door softly as you opened it.

“Oh, you're already in bed,” you commented, surprised that the boy had done everything himself. Usually, he lets you help with all of this without a problem, so you're disappointed that he won't let you help him.

“Yes, and I just read one story,” he said, quickly trying to hide that he had disobeyed the one-story rule. Jason didn't want you to be angry. He knew you wouldn't hurt him, but he feared your disappointment more than your fury.

“Really?”, you asked excitedly. You knew how hard he had worked to improve his reading these past few weeks to prepare for school. “That's amazing, honey,” you told him as you closed the door softly and walked to sit next to him. Jason smiled happily at your tone of pure joy and pride in his accomplishment.

“Yes,” Jason said as he closed the book and left it on the nightstand, excited to tell you about his progress, “I still have a hard time with some words. But I will fix it before school starts.” He made it clear to you right away, so don't worry.

The truth is that Jason didn't want to bother. Not you, not Alfred, not Bruce. In his mind, that was the way to be a good son. That was what his parents had taught him.

Willis Todd hated it when Jason was in the way. He always ran into him around the house (although that was probably beer-related), and that ended badly for Jason. So Jason learned quickly to stay out of the way so as not to be in the way, not in the sight of his parents, because that was good. His mother never said anything against that arrangement, so he always assumed she agreed.

When his dad left, disappearing without any notice (Jason eventually found out on the streets that he had been arrested and sent to prison), it became difficult for his mom not to see him since she had to do everything. But she was too high to notice half the time. And the other half, when she was aware of him, she wasn't aggressive towards him, she went from hugging him lovingly to crying on her shoulder. As if Catherine were the child and Jason was the father, she was comforting. Then she didn't get up after one dose, and the police came after he called an elderly woman who lived next door to her to ask her to call an ambulance. Then they put him in a couple of foster homes. But no one paid much attention to him, and it wasn't worth putting up with the other children, especially the older ones, who enjoyed tormenting him for being smaller. So he ended up on the street, taking care of himself. It was more natural for him to depend on himself alone than to let them take care of him.

“Well,” you said, settling next to him against the headboard, “but there's no need for that. That's why you're going to school — to learn,” you explained as you ran your hand through his curls. “It's okay if you don't know everything before that.”

“But I don't want to be behind the rest of my classmates, they surely already know how to read very well,” he explained regretfully, somewhat embarrassed.

Only once had his parents been called to the school he had gone to in Park Row. The teacher meant well, for sure. But telling her father that Jason seemed to need a little more help than usual with his reading and that it would be a good idea to move him to a school with a special program for kids like him only made her father see it. And that was never something good. He didn't want you to feel upset with him for that, either.

“It doesn't matter what other children know or don't know, Jason,” you assured him lovingly. “It matters that you learn without fear of not knowing. It's not a bad thing to not know how to do something that's hard for you to do, sometimes,” you tried to explain, and the boy nodded slowly, processing the information you had given him.

Jason thought for a moment, absorbing what you said, but he was not sure how to respond in a way that would make you happy but not be a nuisance to your daily life. But you didn't let him get to a question because you asked him one in return.

“Jason, my dear,” you called, breaking the boy from his thoughts, who looked at you with big, blue eyes. So precious your baby was. “I have a very important question for you, and I need you to answer me honestly,” you asked him seriously, to which the boy adjusted himself with a worried frown to face you more.

It reminded you of Bruce, who made the same gestures when you talked to him seriously.

Your heart tightened with pride at how your two boys, Dick and Jason, were beginning to imitate Bruce so soon after meeting him. Despite all of his doubts, he was someone the kids immediately looked to as an example. You reminded him repeatedly, despite his complaints, because he needed to be reminded that being Batman wasn't the only way he could make a difference to people. He did it every day in his home, with your children, and with you.

“Yes, Mrs. Wayne - Sorry, y/n,” he corrected himself quickly, but you thought nothing of it despite the way he cringed in place at his own mistake.

“Jay, do you like being here with me, with Bruce, and with Alfred? Are you happy being part of this family?” you asked a little fearfully, sounding as soft as possible so that it didn't feel like an interrogation.

Jason was stunned. His blue eyes looked at you in confusion: Why would you ask such a question? Of course, he was happy, Jason had everything he could need to survive and the company of you and Bruce. Why would you think he wasn't happy with you?

You saw the confusion painted on his face the moment you asked, so you decided to elaborate a little more on the situation.

“You see, Bruce and I have noticed that you don't seem to be around the house much even though you're here. You even get up to have breakfast alone. It seems like you are hiding from us, Jay. Which is why Bruce and I are worried” you began to explain in a soft tone, “Did something happen? Is there something bothering you?

“No, there's nothing that bothers me,” Jason assured quickly, so worried about the situation. “I just don't want to be in the middle,” the boy explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Which made your heart break, and you wondered why he would believe that.

Would there have been any comments from you or Bruce?

Or something you guys did that gave Jason that impression?

Whatever it was, it needed a solution because it couldn't be further from the truth. Personally, you had missed having a child in the house, and so had Bruce, despite his attempt to pretend that Dick's departure hadn't bothered him.

Your husband and eldest son had a very ugly fight before he went to live in the Teen Titans Tower. He had arranged for you and Alfred to serve as intermediates. But that didn't change your oldest son's decision to move out of the house. A lot of his stuff was still at Wayne Manor, but he wasn't, which made it a little depressing for you.

“Why do you think you're in the middle?” you asked sadly.

“Well, I know it bothers adults when kids are all over them needing things and asking questions. So I try not to be too intense with you because I am very grateful because now I am part of the family.” Jason shrugged as he looked at his hands, trying to remove his cuticles. A nervous habit that you had noticed.

Unsure of what to do, you played it safe and hugged Jason over the shoulder with one arm, holding him close to you, while with your other free hand, you stopped the suggestion of pinching your cuticles by taking his hand and caressing his plasma instead.

You thought for a moment about how you could handle the whole situation without the need to abruptly destroy the belief system and give it a crisis. You also didn't want all of this to sound like a reprimand for believing something that couldn't be further from the truth, because it wasn't his fault. But you weren't going to leave things like that.

“You know, Jay. Bruce and I are not like other adults," you started feeling a little like Mean Girls' mom and her 'I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom', which made you want to roll your eyes, but you kept going. “We love having you around. Dick got us used to that, you know, so we’d love for you to get in the middle as much as you like Jay,” you explained, and the boy looked at you with wide eyes, a gleam of hope in them.

“Really?” he asked doubtfully.

“Really serious,” you assured him with a smile, which Jason couldn’t help but quickly spread. “Besides, you can always know without a doubt that as long as you are in the middle of your father and mine, you will never have to worry about anything. Because you will be safe and sound,” you assured him gently, moving a hair from his forehead and then kissing the area lovingly.

“I like that,” Jason whispered, as if the thought had escaped him, looking at you with stars in his eyes. He really liked that idea.

Jason ran down the stairs while you calmly entered the house with bags of clothes in hand. Alfred was behind you with more bags and resigned to the fact that you had once again bought extra clothes for the whole family. Yes, you also bought him a couple of new sweaters, the kind he liked, but he insisted they were too expensive.

You didn't finish passing through the living room towards the stairs when Jason ran up and hugged your waist without thinking twice. Now, at thirteen years old, it would probably be time for you to start asking him to take care of the force with which he threw himself into his arms whenever he saw you. But the truth is that you didn't want him to. If you two fell, so be it, but you would never ask Jason to walk away. Not after what it was like the first time your son was in the house.

“Hello, sweet boy,” you said to Jason while hugging as best you could with the bags in your arms. “I got you another one of those hoodies that you said you liked. I got it in red, I thought that color would look good on you”.

Jason didn't stop hugging your waist as the three of you went upstairs to leave the bags so he could try on what you had bought him. Nor when, after trying everything on and being satisfied with his new clothes, you went back downstairs to have tea and eat cookies in the library. Not even when the two of them left there to greet Bruce when he arrived late from the Wayne Enterprise, and he received the same hug, but with more balance than you. Dick arrived, and Jason was still clinging to your waist until all sat down to eat dinner.

“Was I like that?” Dick asked in a mocking whisper to Alfred.

“Was?” mocked back the butler “Master Dick, you are still exactly like that”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @kimmis-stuff @undecided-shipper @poppyalice2001 @lafrone @voodoo-writer @lilvampirina @astrial @maliagurl @kazhaelfuhghi @poppyalice2001 @totallynotme420 @calsjack @igotmessymind @pato-spoiler-27 @urminebutidontwantyou @cluelessteam

#batfamily x reader #jason todd x batmom #batmom #tim drake x batmom #batmom!reader #batfam x reader #dick grayson x batmom #scarletwitch!batmom!reader #scarletwitch!reader #batman x scarletwitch

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brainmuncher · 4 months ago

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Danny would like to preface that this was entirely Vlad's fault. The fruitloop had made another harebrained scheme to kill off his dad and marry his mom… nothing new. What also wasn’t new was the three vultures in fez hats that he had to chase across the Nasty Burger’s parking lot after dismantling the whole plan. Vlad was a fruitloop after all so it only made sense that he’d do the same thing over and over and actually expect a different result.

What was new was the gun that Vlad had appeared with during the chase. He looked pissed that Danny had gotten away again and wasn’t aiming well. Unfortunately, Danny had Fenton luck so he eventually got hit by whatever the gun was firing. One of the vultures also got stuck in one of the stray blasts so he didn’t feel too bad about it.

It turns out it was shooting some sticky substance that was impossible to phase through. Vlad had walked over, said some eye roll worthy monologue, and cut the stuck vulture out with a concentrated ecto blast. He’d just been about to probably kidnap Danny for the millionth time when there was a screech of a van. A dozen or so GIW agents flooded the area and Vlad with the vultures made a run for it… leaving Danny behind. Because of the mysterious goo still holding him in place, he was an easy target for the GIW to “arrest”.

That's how he found himself thrown in the back of a white van in what could only be described as a dog cage, bundled with all sorts of restraints. His arms were pulled behind his back, his legs tied together, an actual muzzle on his face, and an extremely uncomfortable collar was on his neck. To put it lightly, Danny was not amused.

Before the doors had shut he heard the agents talking about transporting him to one of their facilities. Based on how much driving they had already done, it wasn’t a local one. Thankfully, Tucker and Sam have his ecto-signature, so they should be able to find him. It was just a matter of them getting a quick enough transport. They might end up calling Jazz to help which will be a huge pain later. No, he did not feel traumatized Jazz, this was more of an unfortunate field trip with the GIW than anything. Then again she was probably going to complain that he wasn’t taking things seriously again if he said that.

While thinking of ways he was going to try and escape his sister's overprotective meddling, the van came to a screeching halt. The stop was so sudden that he hit his head on the back of the cage. Grimacing at the injury, that was honestly pretty mild but he was feeling petty, he tried to listen to why they’d stopped. He could faintly hear the sounds of fighting outside the van. At first, he thought that he’d been found quicker than he thought, but then he heard the first gunshot.

An actual gunshot.

Now Danny knew that he wasn’t in Amity anymore, that point had long since passed, but hearing that was like a bucket of ice water. He’d only heard guns on TV or from those soldier guys at the parade before everything got replaced with ecto-guns. But something about hearing one again after so many years reminded him that he wasn’t home anymore. He didn’t even know where he was.

Despite having already tried to escape when they first put the restraints on, Danny once again began struggling to get out. The best start would be freeing his hands so he could at least see if he could find a weak point. He started to try and get his hands out in front of his chest but quickly found that it was easier said than done. Because of the way his hands were encapsulated in the cuffs and only ended at the lower wrist, he was finding it very hard to stretch far enough to get his arms underneath him. His shoulders ached as he pushed them past their limit, but another set of gunshots gave him the boost he needed to ignore it. Finally, he got his arms out from underneath him.

Before he could even think to celebrate, the doors to the van opened up. He reflexively used his arms to block the light from the outside. Once he blinked away the blinding change of light, he found himself blinking at a completely baffled person in a black ski mask.

“Johnny?” The person called out, turning away from Danny to presumably talk to someone outside the door. “I thought you said this was a truck full of money. There’s just some kid back here!”

Despite the danger he was in, Danny couldn’t help the indignation rise in him at being called a kid. He was sixteen for Pete's sake! He was firmly past the ‘kid’ stage and now in the ‘little shit’ age of his life. There’s a clear difference.

“What the hell are you talking about? This thing was scheduled to be guarded and transported just like any ol’ money transport. If you’re fucking with me-” The second person, who was wearing a blue ski mask, and man Danny didn’t know that they came in different colors how neat, paused after seeing him. “What the hell is this.”

Both of the men were just staring at Danny, who was now questioning just what was happening.

“You don’t think Flash set this up do you?” The one in the black mask asked, making the other one whirl to look at him like he asked if the moon was made of cheese.

“This is Keystone, not Gotham. Flash wouldn’t even consider something like this. This is something else entirely,” The person in the blue mask sighed, giving a sidelong look at Danny. “I say we bounce before Flash gets here. This one is a bust.”

The one in the black mask stopped the other one before they could get too far. Looking over their shoulder at Danny they gestured in his direction.

“Did you see how many guys they had guarding him? I think we could still make a good penny selling him,”

An uncomfortable feeling crawled up Danny’s spine. It was one that Vlad often made him feel when he was trying to get him to ‘denounce his father’. Objectified, Sam had once complained. She described that it was something she often felt whenever her parents forced her into some pink monstrosity. This somehow felt much more dangerous than when Vlad did it. Maybe it was the fact that Danny didn’t know what would happen, unlike with Vlad. Completely separated from his usual support and without a clue of what would happen, the threat loomed more fiercely than Danny was used to.

He started to subtly check the bands restricting his hands. There wasn’t any keyhole are keypad to open them, which meant there was probably a remote that one of the agents has… or had if they had been killed.

Suddenly one of the guys let out a startled cry that cut off. The other one disappeared, only for something to hit the truck a moment later.

“You’d think after taking over a van they wouldn’t just stand around in the street. It’s like they wanted to get caught,” A completely new voice joked.

With both guys gone, Danny could now clearly see the outside world. It was late, almost sunset outside. The buildings were completely unrecognizable. There were even some really tall buildings further in. He was in an actual city… Keystone if he remembers right.

“Let’s see what you were after,” The voice continues and steps in front of the open doors.

If not for the muzzle, Danny’s jaw would’ve dropped. This GIW field trip was turning into one hell of a time.

“Whoa hey, are you alright?” The Flash asked, already climbing inside the van to help.

At this point, this mind as well happen.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #I have such a soft spot for the flash can you tell? lmao #Feel free to continue #I really had no plans further than this #this was just a little drabble that I had stuck in my head

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thebiggerbear · 3 months ago

Text

when were you going to tell me

Summary: After finding out you concealed something from him on a hunt, Dean is not happy with you and he definitely does not appreciate your attempts at humor on the subject.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Hunter!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting. Just dipping back into the writing pool from time to time, one toe each round. This is what popped into my head when I read the prompt. All unbeta'd.

Prompt Line: "When were you going to tell me that you have a hole in your body?"

Warnings: language; mentioned gun violence/injury; implied sex; implications; Reader (really me) being a perv

Word Count: 1787

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown; @ladysparkles78

Dean Winchester Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @mariahoedt

@solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @globetrotter28

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @rebel-paladin; @deans-spinster-witch

@bts24; @roseblue373; @nancymcl; @c1gs-coffee; @peachhiz

@kickingitwithkirk; @fanfic-n-tabulous; @illicithallways; @mentallyillandgae; @ladykitana90

@roseblue373; @radioactivatedspider

Supernaural Taglist: @just-levyy

You can also read on AO3

Dean was super pissed at you. No, not pissed — pissed.

“When were you going to tell me that you have a hole in your body?” He snapped.

You attempted to give him a smile from your seat on the edge of the bed. “Uh, the third date?”

His jaw tightened and his glare immediately transferred from you to his younger brother who had snorted in amusement and was currently attempting to smother a grin. “Don’t encourage her.” Sam threw his hands up in placation but you snickered.

“At least Samsquatch thinks I’m funny.” You winced and sucked in air through your teeth as you tried to peel the right arm of your jacket off. Dean was suddenly there, taking over and gently moving the material away from your wound. “Serves you right,” he muttered. As he studied the bullet you’d taken on the hunt you all just returned from, you studied him — marveling at him in fact. Fury emanated off of him in waves and yet his touch was as gentle as could be. His expression was severe and yet his eyes had a softened edge to them as he tended to you.

“Sammy, get the med kit out of my bag and bring it over here,” he ordered before briefly turning a fresh glare on you.

You let out a small sigh. “Dean, I get that you’re mad but how was I to know one of them was armed? I mean, what kind of a werewolf carries a gun anyway? Bitch move, if you ask me.”

“The kind that wants to get away at any cost. You’re lucky they only popped you in the shoulder. Now maybe next time you’ll actually listen to me and stay close.” He angrily snatched the proffered gauze from Sam’s hand, refusing to look up at you as he opened the package. “You should have told me.”

Concern laced his harsh tone and had you wishing you could put both arms around him to pull him close. Instead, you pressed your lips together; you knew he was right. You should have let him and Sam know you had been shot the moment you regrouped where the Impala was parked but considering the alpha had gotten away in the melee, you all were desperate to get out of there and hunt him down. One dead alpha later thanks to Dean’s silver bullets, you still hadn’t told either Winchester and you gritted your teeth at the pain. You were being stupid, you knew you were being stupid, but you just couldn’t push yourself to admit that Dean had been right and you had been wrong. You had butted heads before; you could take care of yourself and Dean wanted you to use the safety of numbers. Needless to say when you were finally forced to admit what happened once you all got back to the motel thanks to Sam accidentally knocking into you forcing you to let out a loud curse, Dean had been harsh and unforgiving, always being a few words away from ‘I told you so’. And while you hated it, you knew you deserved the ass-chewing you were getting. But you would take everything he had to throw at you and more if it meant you wouldn’t have to see the look on his face that you were seeing right now. You’d scared him, terrified him even, and he hadn’t known in the moment that he’d been a heartbeat away from losing you. A fact that was then reiterated by him gruffing out, “If his aim had been a few centimeters to the right…”

You could feel a lump forming in your throat at the pain now clouding his gaze as he pressed the gauze to your wound. You snuck a look over at Sam who gave you an understanding nod, grabbed the ice bucket, and left the room without a word.

You gently covered Dean’s hands with your left one, urging him to look at you. It took him a moment but he reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet yours. Even more pain swirled in those green depths and it broke your heart. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” you whispered. “I should have told you. And I will never go off on my own again or scare you like that. I promise.”

He watched you for a moment and when he determined you meant what you were telling him, he capitulated with a nod and went back to focusing on your wound. You moved your hand to one of his wrists and briefly squeezed before letting him go.

After a minute, you decided to lighten things up a little while you still could. He was going to have to dig the bullet out since it didn’t go through. As much pain as you’d been in for the past two hours, you were bound to be in a hell of a lot more in the next few minutes so you only had a short window. You got a good look at the wound when he pulled the bloody gauze away and gave it an approving nod. “So, whaddya say after you fix this hole, I can show you what other holes I have that might need tending to, hmm?” His gaze snapped to you and you gave him your best seductive smirk, arching an eyebrow in meaning.

As expected, Dean rolled his eyes and he thrust a half-finished bottle of whiskey at you. “I never thought I’d say this to a girl but you are banned from referring to your…other holes like that. For forever. Especially in front of Sam.”

“Oh come on, you know you love it when I do,” you teased, taking a swig of the amber liquid.

“I know I love you,” he suddenly replied, his tone serious yet ever so quiet, and his focus now on the kit in front of him.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. In all of the time you’d been doing the no pants dance on a semi-regular basis, not once had Dean uttered the L-word. Sure, you knew how much he loved your ass and how his hands seemed to be super-glued to the area whenever Sam wasn’t looking, how much he loved it when when you did that thing with your tongue and throat at the same time that made him bite into the side of his fist to keep quiet, and how much he loved when you fucked him. But never had he ever in all of this time told you that he loved you.

He hesitantly met your gaze and when he saw your smile, he seemed to relax slightly and clear his throat. “You should drink a little more of that before I start digging the bullet out.”

When he took the bottle from you, you used your free hand to gently tug on his flannel. “Me too, you know.” When he glanced over at you, you whispered, “I love you, too.”

His features softened a little in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He fought to keep a smile off of his handsome face and seemed determined to remember he was still mad at you, but the light in his eyes remained. “Okay.” A simple okay — as if okay, that’s decided and that’s it. Very simple and matter of fact. When your grin grew, he shyly looked away before snapping back into focus, intent on switching into a medic role. “This is going to hurt.” His expression was then completely apologetic.

“I know. It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Not my first gunshot wound.” At the furrowing of his brows and his eyes roaming all over you, you dug your fingers into his jeans to distract him and gave him a nod. You could tell him all about that later; besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the scar on your leg at some point.

The distraction having succeeded, Dean let it go for now and poured the whiskey on the open wound. You nearly screamed from the pain, tightening your grip on him.

His lips were immediately lingering against the skin of your forehead. “I’m sorry, baby,” you thought you heard him murmur to you but you were in so much agony you couldn’t be sure. When the sting began to fade into the steady throb you had grown used to, you heard him tease, “So, third date, huh?”

You gave a tiny shrug of your one good shoulder, wincing. “Date, hunt, whatever.” Sam and the world didn’t need to know exactly when you and Dean had made the beast with two backs. Third, first — it was all the same to you.

You’d known Sam and Dean back in the day and when you found yourselves accidentally on the same hunt years later, Dean may have given you a second look which you more than eagerly returned (you’d had a crush on him for years when you were younger) and when you used his last-night-on-Earth line on him at a local dive bar later on… You bit your bottom lip to keep at bay the memories of the creaking of the Impala, your moans from his lips trailing everywhere, and his deep groans of “Fuck” in your ear as he tightly held onto you from that night. Damn, if you weren’t shot right now, you might ask him to recreate that particularly explosive night, especially since you both were sharing a room with Sam on this trip. Perhaps once Dean was through and you were all bandaged up, you could convince him to go for a drive so you could show him just what your good arm could still do. Sure, you were a natural righty, but you could get creative. Not to mention you were shot in the shoulder, not your lower half, and it certainly wouldn’t keep your jaw from working.

Dean chuckled, pulling you from your dirty thoughts about said man who tenderly kissed your hairline before searching for the forceps in his kit. “Right.” He poured some alcohol over the tool and gave you one more kiss before focusing on your shoulder. “You ready?”

“One sec.” You grunted as you lifted up slightly to plant a kiss to his stubbled jaw. He turned to look at you and you shot him a smirk. “Hurry the fuck up, Winchester, and get to work getting this bullet out of me so we can go for a drive and I can show you how ambidextrous I can be.”

You watched his throat bob up and down as he swallowed and then a smirk crawled onto his face to mirror yours, his eyes darkening to an all-too familiar shade. “Yes, ma’am.”

And he got straight to work.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x y/n #when were you going to tell me #dean winchester fanfiction #thebiggerbear writes

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prentissluvr · 5 months ago

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hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence.

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional.

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

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enwoso · 8 months ago

Note

Hi can you write a Lucy bronze x reader. Reader is the shy one of the team and during teamnights and interviews reader is very reserved. With Lucy she isn’t as shy. Lucy helps reader slowly get out her shell (some fluff :))

JUST NOT ME — lucy bronze

*i truly apologise for the lack of posts in the past few days, i’ve had a hectic few days and i’ve been focused on studying so sorry if this sucks — posts will probably be a bit inconsistent over the next few weeks but i’ll be as active as i can<3*

navigation

"you excited?" beth asked as the car pulled into the entrance of st george's park, the familiar surroundings bringing a small smile to your face. this was your first call up to the england squad in almost a year, having been out with the dreaded ACL injury.

"i guess" you shrugged, beth shaking her head in amusement. you didn't really know how to explain it, of course you were excited, who wouldn't be happy playing for their country but you were almost nervous, what if you weren't up the standard of others in the group.

"always the women of few words!" beth joked, one you had heard many times as the arsenal girls loved to tease you about how quiet you were but that's just how you were cause not everyone was her.

they didn’t know that you needed a chance to warm up to people before you let them into your bubble, they didn’t know that even though because you don’t say a lot that you aren’t paying attention as you notice every persons small habits they have. cause not everyone was her.

you were a listener and not someone who could sit and chat someone's ears off for ever more than a day like the likes of beth mead and ella toone could do so effortlessly without even realising.

but maybe that's what lucy liked so much about you.

you and lucy had been together just nearing two years now, the two of you had known of each other for a while it wasn't until a night out in london with the lionesses that leah had dragged you to after you had said for days on end that you weren’t going, that you and lucy spoke to each other.

you sitting in the corner of the club, drink in hand as you watched millie and rachel on the karaoke a small smile on your face at their singing which was not the slightest in tune at all.

lucy spotting you sat alone slipping in the booth with you before asking you why you weren't doing karaoke like everyone else, you shrugging at the girls question before she asked you if you wanted to do it with her.

you face going red as you almost immediately shook your head, but lucy being lucy had her mission for the night and that was to get you to do karaoke, and to which she succeeded after sitting and having a few more drinks with you.

and from that night, the rest was history.

you rolled your eyes at beth's comment as she chuckled to herself getting out the cab first, getting her luggage as you followed close behind her, thanking the driver as you headed into the entrance of st george's park.

taking in the familiar surroundings, as you looked around noticing the few changes since the last time you were here.

"i'm not holding these doors open for the good of my own health, hurry up!" beth pointed out, her thick northern accent bouncing off the walls as she was stood in the doorway of the lift, pulling you out of your trace as you hurried to get into the lift. pressing the buttons on the side of the wall for the floor you needed.

you and beth getting out of the lift on the same floor, you noticing your girlfriend as she had her back turned the opposite way, a smile appearing on your face.

beth nudging you, "go on!" she whispered as you said a small bye to the blonde as she walked the opposite way.

"your here!" a voice cheered which you knew all too well, lucy stood at the end of the hallway in front of her room door as you stopped your suitcase at your own door.

you smiled seeing the girl, your smile getting bigger with every step she took closer to before engulfing you in a tight hug. your whole body relaxing in hers, the smell of her perfume that you had missed.

“of course i’m here?” you smiled confused at her reaction to seeing you stood in the hallway. “well the media was saying you were gonna withdraw because of an irritation in your knee” she admitted a small frown on her face at the mention of your knee, knowing how hard and the amount of hours you had put in just to get back to the level you were at just last year.

“baby, you do know i would tell you before i even told sarina if i was going to withdraw don’t you?” you asked her, your hands finding their way up the back of her training top, your girlfriend having been here since early as she’d had an early flight to catch this morning.

“yeah”

"anyways, i've missed you" you mumbled into her neck, nestling your head as her hands fell to your lower back you feeling her smile against your forehead as she kissed it.

"i've missed you too love" she smiled as you looked up with a lovesick smile on your face. lucy pressing small kisses to your cheeks, nose and chin before finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips — which you would be dammed to say that you hadn't missed.

it was hard at times being away from your girlfriend for weeks on end as she played in barcelona and you were playing in north london at arsenal. having to schedule weeks in advance of when you would next be able to see each other.

but it made moments like these all the more worth it.

when you would finally be reunited and be in her arms again. sometime you think the distance made the two of you closer in a weird way as you felt as though you cherished you time together more.

"you coming down to lunch?" your girlfriend asked as she pressed your foreheads together, the smile never leaving either of your faces. you nodded, "yeah, let me just put my bag in and chance my shoes"

lucy hummed as she let you go from the hug, grabbing your suitcase for you as you rummaged around your pocket for your room key, the green light flashing as you pushed the handle down.

the door shutting with a click as you opened your suitcase finding your sliders to slip on, “baby, you got another pair!” lucy whisper yelled, pointing to your pink crocs that you were pulling out of your suitcase as she sat at the end of the bed watching you.

“yeah?”

“so what? that makes it seven pairs you’ve got now!” lucy said exaggerating the amount, as you huffed rolling your eyes as if she didn’t have trainers lined up on her bedroom floor.

“three actually” you sassed standing up and checking your hair in the mirror as lucy pulled a face at you, you doing one back to her.

“now quit your complaining, i want food!” you smiled sweetly at your girlfriend grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the bed as she pecked your lips quickly before you left your room not before checking that you had your phone and key card to actually get back into your room.

walking down hand in hand with lucy to where food was being served, as you filled each other in on the journey here. lucy’s sounding a lot more exciting then your two hour car journey consisting of views of trees and beth chatting your ears off about anything and every.

saying a small hello to others that you hadn’t seen since arriving before grabbing something to eat and sitting on a table just the two of you.

"on sunday, i went for breakfast with my mum and you know all she spoke about was you!" you complained as lucy had a smirk on her face as she put another forkful of food into her mouth, nodding alone to what you were saying.

"that's because i'm her favourite" lucy laughed as you rolled your eyes. “clearly, it’s so annoying-“ you began before being cut off by two blondes joining you at the table.

"how do you do that?" leah asked, directing her question more at lucy than you, as she sat down beth following behind the captain. as the two sat down at the table you and lucy were sat at.

"do what?" lucy asked, confusion taking over her face as she looked to you who shrugged putting another forkful of food in your mouth.

"get y/n to have a conversation!" leah pointed to you as you felt your cheeks go a little red as a small smile appeared on your face, as lucy looked back to the blonde and the two others still not really understanding what leah was trying to get at.

"we always have a conversation?" lucy shrugged as if it was nothing, cause to her it was. you had never really spoken to lucy until she had brought you out your shell. lucy knew you were more reserved when it came to talking to others, you would speak but it would be very few words.

but she wouldn’t change it for the word cause even if you didn’t say anything back she knew you were always listening and taking in everything she was saying.

beth and leah began to recount all the the times they had talked to you and you only ever gave them a one word answer, the two pleading with lucy to tell them her ways.

"really? y/n over here is a little chatterbox!" lucy smiled over to you as you awkwardly smiled at the two not really knowing what to say.

"she's not at shy as she likes to let everyone think she is!" she bumped your shoulder, as you rolled your eyes the sound of your fork tinkering against the plate in front as beth and leah’s mouth hang wide open in shock.

"no i refuse to believe it, how!"

"your just not me" lucy joked, the four of you beginning to laugh as you nodded your head in agreement, "i mean your not entirely wrong"

liked by lj10 and 736,250 others

lucybronze no one compares ☺️

comments -

youruser awh how cute

-> lucybronze no i meant no one compares to me?

-> youruser your ego is sickening at times.

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso community #woso #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #awfc #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #visca barca #lionesses #england wnt #england women #england #enwoso

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dazzlingjaeyun · 3 months ago

Text

𝐢𝐜𝐞-𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

figure skater!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: brother's rival, mostly angst & some fluff

warnings: poor figure skating references cause i have no clue lol, slow burn (sort of), insecurities, mentions of injuries, skinship, curse words

word count: 13k

author's note: the names of the other characters in the story do not refer to any idols or irl people, i just needed names lol

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

there was something about park sunghoon that had you keeping your eyes on him throughout the entirety of his practice. maybe it was the fact that he was insanely good at what he was doing, or because he was insanely good-looking.

in fact, you'd been admiring him for quite some time – which you would never, ever, admit. cause what the hell would you tell your brother?

you remembered his reaction when you had told him you had a crush on his best friend – a silly prank you were forced to pull on him during a round of truth or dare at a party. you preferred to not find out how he'd react if you told him the same about the guy he called his rival. especially if it was not a prank this time.

to be fair, you found their entire 'rivalry' a bit childish, knowing that it was solely based on sunghoon always snatching the gold medal from your brother by scoring just a few points more.

however, paying close attention to the way he slid over the ice with such smoothness, making even the most difficult moves look effortless, you understood why he always left your brother in the second place.

"ready to lose on saturday?" his mocking voice echoed through the big hall, reminding you of the reason you were here in the first place. the first competition after your long break of figure skating. the thought of it made you equally excited and nervous. you'd had a long time to practice, but could you really go back to how good you used to be after all that had happened?

although thoughts and doubts started clouding your mind, his question made you wonder; why would he care if you lost, you weren't competing against him, after all.

"i know me and my brother look alike, but we're not that similar," you tried to sound tough, but only realized how awkward the words came out after they already had.

you mentally cursed yourself when you saw the right corner of his lip curl up into a smile that mirrored the sneering tone of his question before. he came to a halt in front of you, only the railing, on which he rested his arms, separating you. he leaned forward just a little. "right, you're better," he replied with an undefinable expression and a short chuckle, which made you question if his words were meant to be sarcastic or genuine.

although you usually admired him for the confidence he radiated, now, you may as well say you hated it – hated how small it made you feel, especially when he was so close and towered over you by a good couple of centimeters.

his dark orbs found yours, keeping steady eye contact for a painfully long moment. you didn't want to give in, not willing to give him the satisfaction of backing down, although on the inside, everything screamed at you to look away. the corners of sunghoon's eyes crinkled slightly as his lips, once again, curled up into that mischievous smile.

he was aware of the discomfort that was building up behind your seemingly strong demeanor, you were sure of that. and he found it amusing. no wonder your brother couldn't stand him.

sunghoon pushed himself up from the railing, straightening his posture. "is your partner gonna come, or..." he asked, after looking around the hall.

"yeah, he said he'll be late by five minutes," you replied, hoping that the announcement of jisung's arrival would make sunghoon pack his bags and leave the ice rink for the rest of the day. but when he didn't seem to move, you quickly added "coach reserved the rink for us so–"

"do you still skate with him, by the way?" sunghoon interrupted, not seeming to care about leaving.

knowing exactly what he was aiming at, you narrowed your eyes a bit, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "yes," you replied shortly and sternly, hoping he'd take the hint and not dig deeper.

sunghoon, however, raised an eyebrow and looked at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "seriously? after all that happened?"

you should have known he wouldn't drop the topic, yet it made your stomach slowly burn with anger. why did he have to talk about it now? so shortly before the competition, and after you had put so much hard work into regaining not only your abilities, but most importantly the trust you had always blindly put in jisung.

"it's none of your business, park," you snapped.

"he's the reason you almost lost your dream, y/n," sunghoon replied dryly, clearly not affected by the sudden change in your demeanor, "it's almost a miracle you're here now."

as if on autopilot, your brain replayed the day you had tried so hard to shove to the back of your mind – to forget. the day you were so close to chasing your dreams, so close to winning the most important competition up to that point in your life. the day not only the win slipped away, but your entire career was too close to do the same. you knew sunghoon was right, it was a miracle you were here. that you were even standing.

"you know," sunghoon's voice snapped you back to reality, "i would have never dropped you," he said – loud enough for jisung, who had just come in, to hear too. sunghoon finally left the ice, changing to his sneakers and shooting the other boy a glance with an emotion you couldn't quite make out, before he walked off.

your eyes followed him until he was out of sight – your mind still tangled in the thoughts of your body crashing down on the ice heavily, leaving you with a broken leg and several fractures along your spine.

"hey, are you okay?" jisung asked once he was close enough to you. he knew exactly what was wrong, his guilt still fresh despite the months that had passed since the day he hadn't paid enough attention – the day that he had accidentally let go of you, responsible for your heavy injuries that suspended you from ice skating for several months.

when you didn't react, he tried again, "i–... i practiced a lot, i improved! you know that, we've been practicing together the past weeks, we've been fine, you–... you'll be fine. i won't let anything happen to you another time!" he blurted out. his effort in trying to reassure you, however, stayed unsuccessful.

you wordlessly changed from your sneakers to your ice skates, your mind still captured by sunghoon's words.

throughout the entire practice, you couldn't shake the thoughts off. it made you lose focus, made your movements sloppy – too slow, too fast, too incorrect. you felt the pressure inside of you building up more and more with each piece of guidance your coach gave, her voice growing more frustrated with each word.

it was just practice, there was nothing that could happen now, you tried to remind yourself.

but when jisung's arms wrapped around your waist to help with the lift, and your legs left the ground, your heart pounded violently in your chest. blood rushed in your ears as your body tensed up completely – every muscle inside of you froze, and jisung noticed immediately, forcing himself to stop.

he tightened his grip around your waist and carefully lowered you back onto the ice before you could drop. your legs wobbled slightly as they touched down again, and you tried to regain control. you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, desperate to calm the storm inside of you and keep the tears from welling up. you couldn't afford to break down now.

your breath hitched when you felt his hand on your shoulder. you hadn't realized jisung had let go of your waist, or how he was now standing in front of you, concern written all over his face.

"are you okay?" he asked softly, but before you could answer, the coach's voice cut through the air.

"take a break, guys!" she called out, clearly frustrated, her eyes lingering on you. you could feel her gaze heavy with expectation and disappointment, and the pressure inside of you only grew bigger.

you exhaled sharply, slid across the ice until you reached the exit, and sat down on a bench. you knew you had to get yourself together, you knew you had only another week. and while a gold medal was for sure out of reach at your first competition after your long hiatus, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself either.

jisung stayed on the ice, his face slowly dropping as he saw you sitting on the bench, looking so vulnerable, so fragile. he sighed softly, before slowly approaching you.

"can i sit?", he asked and sat down once he saw you nodding. "y/n, i know we had... we had our problems," he fiddled with his hands, "and if you cannot find trust in me again, i can totally understand that... we can still cancel the competition," he said, his voice soft and careful, as if he was making sure to not jump to conclusions too quickly.

for the first time since you had sat down, you raised your head to look at him. "it's just..." you looked down again, feeling almost too embarrassing to face him, "it's all going so fast, jisung. and i'm still so insecure," the volume of your voice decreased with each word.

you felt his warm hand on yours, his thumb stroking against your skin a few times, before he gave your hand a gentle, yet reassuring squeeze. "we have almost a week," he said calmly, "we still have time to practice and we'll find our rhythm again, okay?"

when you looked up at him again, you saw a soft smile on his lips. you nodded slowly, stood up, and headed back to the ice.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

throughout the week, you found yourself at the ice rink more often than not, spending hours and hours practicing with jisung – until both of you were so exhausted that you physically couldn't do more. with each time, the two of you grew more confident.

"okay, you're good for today," you hear your coach announcing after going through the choreography uncountable times. you exhaled, relieved that you could finally finish practice for that day. as you were catching your breath, you looked at your coach with anticipation, waiting for her feedback.

"you're both improving," she began. a small weight lifted from your shoulders. she didn’t sound particularly impressed, but after years of practice under her guidance, you were familiar with her indifferent tone. praise from her was rare; she often said she didn't want to let it get to your head. "however," she looked at you, "you're still not confident, y/n. and it shows a lot. you have to trust jisung if you don't want to fail on saturday."

you just nodded, not able to object. she was right after all. you would have loved to say you trusted him fully again - but whenever he had to hold you, you'd tense, your breath getting stuck in your throat.

"jisung, you're free to go. y/n, you stay. change your shoes and wait on the side," she announced. you could feel jisung next to you shooting you a quick look before he looked back at the coach, and the two of you nodded in synch.

you took a moment to sit and reflect on the feedback, replaying it in your mind. when you finally decided to change your shoes, jisung approached you, already changed and with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"are you okay?" he asked, his voice low. it was like you could hear the apologetic look he had in his eyes, even without meeting his gaze. you nodded again. "i'm sorry," you mumbled, "i'll get myself together before the weekend."

jisung flashed a sad smile, taking your hands in his and pulling you up from the bench until you were standing in front of him, only to pull you into a short but tight hug. you reciprocated his action, softly clinging onto his shirt even when he wanted to let go. "stay," you whispered against his chest.

hugging him felt natural. the two of you had been close before your injury, you had always gotten along – it was sort of a must since you were spending all your afternoons together. his embrace was comforting, especially with all the pressure weighing on you.

when you finally pulled away, you almost overlooked the faint pink tint on jisung's cheeks. he glanced down at you and cleared his throat. "do you need a ride? i can wait for you outside," he offered, but you shook your head. "who knows how long she's going to keep me here," you replied, keeping your voice low enough so your coach couldn't hear. jisung chuckled slightly and nodded. "fine, but don't go alone if it's getting late. you can call me."

"i'll ask hyuk, don't worry," you smiled, before waving to him to signal him that it was okay to leave. he turned around and left, not without turning back and giving you another quick, reassuring smile, as if he wanted to tell you to not worry for what was still to come this evening.

"haeun and sunghoon are coming to practice," your coach stated as she approached you, "they're very good. i want you to watch them. understand their chemistry and the trust they have in each other," she requested, and you responded with an eager nod. "i want you to put that into your next practice with jisung."

as if on cue, you heard two voices coming closer. you couldn't quite understand what haeun and sunghoon were talking about, but from their faces you understood that their conversation must have been carefree. they were exchanging smiles and laughter, and you started wondering if you had ever seen sunghoon genuinely smile before.

"are you going to leave or…" sunghoon's voice interrupted your thoughts. you furrowed your brows. "couldn't have phrased it nicer," you mumbled more to yourself than to him.

before sunghoon could reply, your coach chimed in, "i told y/n to watch your practice to learn from you. take it as a compliment and don't disappoint her, i spoke highly of you."

"but..." haeun crossed her arms in front of her chest, "isn't she going to be at advantage on saturday? i mean, she'll know our moves and everything."

now, what sunghoon had said a few days ago suddenly made perfect sense. he had asked you if you were ready to lose because you were, in fact, competing against him. a flutter of unease settled in your stomach. both haeun and sunghoon were extremely good, they were usually at the top in their solo performances, so them competing together in pair skating made perfect sense. but that also meant you'd face a greater challenge; competing against them meant your insecurities and mistakes would stand out even more against their flawless performance.

"don't worry," sunghoon replied to haeun, but his gaze was fixed on you. "her injury set her back months – physically and mentally. she can't compare to us."

you bit your inner cheek to not snap a harsh comment back at him.

the sharp sound of blades cutting into the ice filled the air as they started their routine. as you watched them practice, it became increasingly clear that sunghoon was right. you understood not only their chemistry and trust, you mostly understood how far behind you were – that you'd stand no chance against them.

their practice went on for what felt like forever, and the more time passed, the more your mood dropped. for an outsider, it would have been pure bliss to watch them, but for you it felt like torture – like you were forced to watch them, not for inspiration as to what you could be, but as an reminder of everything you were not.

you had to admit you were jealous. you wished you were able to put the same trust in jisung that haeun seemed to have in sunghoon, and if you were honest, you didn't know what was holding you back. your accident had been so long ago and you could tell that jisung was way more stable now. ever since you'd started again, he hadn't given you a single reason to be worried. and yet, you couldn't trust him, even though you wanted to so bad.

your disappointment began to intertwine with a rising sense of guilt as you recalled the way jisung’s expression would shift whenever he sensed your worries. and the way he'd still apologize, even after so many months, seemingly never really getting over the fact that you'd almost had to end your career, just because his attention had slipped for a second.

"you going home or are you gonna stay here all night?" sunghoon's voice startled you.

you looked around, trying to collect your thoughts, and realizing only then that the hall had emptied except for the two of you, and your impatient-looking coach waiting to lock the doors.

"yes, i..." you started and pulled out your phone to check the time, "i'll call hyuk."

sunghoon shrugged, before making his way towards the exit. you scrolled through your call history until you found your brother's contact, quickly clicking on it as you rushed toward the door behind sunghoon, offering a brief goodbye to your coach.

the cold night air hit you with an unexpected force, and although you were wearing your jacket, your body started to shiver slightly. you wrapped your free arm around yourself, while keeping your phone close to your ear with the other, waiting for the beep-sounds to get replaced by your brother's voice.

sunghoon walked to his car, threw his bag on the backseat and sat down behind the steering wheel, starting the engine but not driving off. he looked at you, furrowing his eyebrows when you continuously lowered your phone and tapped around, only to bring it up to your ear again. he sighed, before hesitantly rolling down the window.

"you need a ride?" he asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

you immediately shook your head, to which the lines between sunghoon's eyebrows only deepened more. "your brother doesn't seem to pick up," he stated the obvious.

"no shit, sherlock," you mumbled, rolling your eyes, "i'll call jisung, you can go home."

"and wait in the cold until he's here? you're shaking," he objected, and when he realized the words sounded more worried than he had intended, he quickly added, "might as well make use of it now that i already decided to be kind for once."

you sighed, weighing the options that you had and frowned on the inside when you had to admit he was right. if it hadn't been cold and you hadn't been freezing so much, there was no way you'd set foot in his car. but you started to feel like the cold air went under your skin and you really didn't want to wait for jisung, let alone burden him by calling, so you wordlessly walked over to sunghoon's car and opened the passenger door.

he gave you a short nod, as if to confirm that you could sit down. once you were sat and had the seatbelt fastened, sunghoon fiddled around with some buttons, before pulling out of the parking lot. for the first time in hours, your muscles started to release all the tension you had been holding, when you slowly felt your seat getting warmer.

"better?" sunghoon asked, shooting you a quick glace, before focusing on the street again. you nodded and responded with a quiet "better" that almost came out as a whisper, "thanks, sunghoon."

"no need. just tell me how to get to your place," he replied dryly.

the both of you stayed silent throughout the entirety of the ride, except for the directions you gave him. it felt uncomfortable – like the awkward tension would suffocate you any second. while you were keeping your head slightly turned to look outside the window, sunghoon's eyes flashed back and forth between you and the road from time to time.

"you can just drop me off here," you announced once he took the turn into your street. he clicked his tongue "i already came all the way here, i won't die driving to the end of the street as well. besides..." he looked around, "your neighbourhood looks creepy, not gonna lie."

"whatever you say," you mumbled in response, not wanting to argue, but too proud to agree with him either.

you thanked him again once he pulled up in front of your house, double and triple checked that you didn't forget anything in his car and quickly rushed to your front door, hearing him drive off not before you had unlocked the door.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

as saturday rolled around, you found yourself warming up, feeling even more tense and nervous than you had originally thought. although the last days before the competition had gone really well, you couldn't shake the thought off your mind that you might mess everything up.

jisung was standing next to you, putting one hand on your shoulder and squeezing gently. "we got this, okay? don't worry, y/n, i got you," he tried to calm you down, shoving his own nervousness to the back of his mind.

without even realizing, you softly leaned into him, finding comfort in his touch, finding stability, something to hold onto in his mere presence. that's when you thought you could do it, thought you might be able to overcome your fears and shove aside the thoughts that kept creeping up on you.

but when it was time to perform that one jump, only some minutes later, you realized you had been wrong - once again. you froze, your widened eyes searching for jisung, who nodded in approval, trying to reassure you. if this was practice, you'd stop right there and then, but this wasn't practice and you couldn't afford to just quit and run away. in the end, it was the pressure that drove you when you aimed for the jump, way too hesitantly, way too half-heartedly. you could feel jisung trying his best to compensate your lack of power, but he alone couldn't turn the tide. and so you ended your performance – without injuries, but with a huge gap between what you could have done, and what you had delivered in the end.

"it's fine," you heard him whisper while you were still in your ending pose, waiting for the judges to announce the end.

you slid wordlessly across the ice towards the exit, stepped out, and headed to the changing room. once inside, you sat down and stared at the floor, time seeming to stretch on endlessly. with a heavy sigh, you bent down, removed your ice skates, and replaced them with your shoes. pulling your hoodie over your uniform, you stayed seated, unable to stand – unprepared to face the world outside, unwilling to hear the inevitable comments.

your vision began to blur, and though you would have usually blinked the tears away, this time, you let them fall freely. you couldn’t keep bottling up your emotions. silent tears ran down your face, interrupted only by the occasional soft sob.

"y/n?" your brother’s voice startled you from the other side of the door. he knocked gently, pushing it open slightly when you didn’t respond. seeing you, he sighed and opened his arms, silently offering a hug.

without a word, you walked into his embrace, feeling his arms tighten around you as he gently stroked your back. "it’s okay, you did well," he whispered, trying to comfort you, but you only managed a muffled scoff against his chest.

"i completely messed up at the end, hyuk," you muttered, pulling away to face him. "i really thought i could do it this time, but... i want to trust jisung, i really do, but i just can't," you admitted, your voice breaking with each sob.

hyuk gently patted your head. "i know, i know… you did well up until that point. it’s okay to be scared. maybe you just need more time. don’t be so hard on yourself," he said softly.

"come on, let’s head back out. i can’t wait to see sunghoon get beaten by the other team. i’m sure they scored higher than him and haeun," he teased, making you smile despite the state you were in. you nodded in agreement, feeling just a little lighter.

as you watched them indeed take second place, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your brother’s expression. “now it’s your turn to finally beat him. if someone else can do it, so can you,” you teased, drawing a smile from him. normally, he would’ve made a jab about you not beating him either, but today he kept those thoughts to himself, simply glad to finally see you smile.

you watched as your coach approached haeun and sunghoon, congratulating them, before gesturing for sunghoon to join her on the side for another conversation. you could see his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, the smile that had been plastered on his face for getting yet another medal dropping quickly. had she complained they only made it to the second place? you hadn’t seen their performance, but you couldn’t picture sunghoon making a mistake so grave that it would cost them the win.

when his gaze met yours, a chill ran through you, and you were certain you’d be a goner if looks could kill. you quickly averted your gaze, determined to focus on anything but him, yet you could still feel his eyes practically piercing holes through your body.

“y/n,” you heard your coach call as she approached you. you turned to face her, peeking over her shoulder to see sunghoon talking to haeun, who was now standing next to him, but still glaring at you.

“after today, i think you need to start rebuilding your trust, not just in your partner, but in yourself, or you'll end up locking up every movement at some point,” she began. you nodded, fully aware that it was easier said than done.

“so, for the next few months, you'll focus solely on that. no new figures, no competitions at all. and you’ll switch partners. sunghoon will train with you until you feel comfortable again,” she announced, her voice firm and leaving no room for discussion.

your jaw dropped. out of all the people, she chose to pair you with sunghoon? your brother next to you mirrored your reaction, beginning to protest, but you tuned him out as the world around you fell silent, moving in slow motion as your gaze shifted to sunghoon again. the intensity of his glare and the clenching of his jaw spoke volumes; he wasn't thrilled about the decision either.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

when you arrived at practice the following week, you walked into the large hall with slumped shoulders. your frown deepened as you realized jisung was in fact not there. you had called him the night of the competition to share the news, even though your coach had already informed him. after all, this meant he would also be getting a new partner. you had apologized to him and the two of you had agreed to stay in touch, to not drift further apart as you'd get paired up together again after you'd overcome your struggles.

you approached your coach, who was already waiting. "y/n," she greeted you with a brief but warm smile. "if you'd like, we can go over some feedback from saturday until sunghoon arrives," she offered, and you nodded, though you knew it wasn't really a question – she probably would have done it anyway.

as she began giving feedback on your performance, you heard footsteps approaching. assuming it was sunghoon, you felt your muscles tense slightly, not quite ready to face him as your new partner.

“sunghoon,” your coach paused her feedback and turned to him. “both of you, warm up so we can begin,” she said, receiving a nod from both of you.

you started your usual routine of warm-up exercises and stretching, trying your best to ignore sunghoon and the displeased expression on his face that he didn't even bother trying to hide.

"are you ready to start?" he asked, and when you nodded, he replied dryly "good, cause i want to get this over with."

you sighed to yourself. "listen, i know you're not happy about practicing with me now. i don't want this either. but at least i'm not being a bitch about it. just cause you cannot stand my brother."

"this is not about your brother, y/n. i have to do double the work now, training with haeun and you, just cause you cannot get your shit together," he stated, his tone harsh.

you furrowed your eyebrows. his words were hurtful, but his ego was even more frustrating. "if i remember correctly, you were the one saying that jisung shouldn't be my partner anymore and that you'd never drop me," you reminded him of what he had said a couple of weeks ago.

"so? doesn't mean i want to be your partner," he responded.

"but you are for now," your coach chimed in, "so stop the bickering, both of you. you're not kids anymore. sunghoon, keep your energy for your solo practice and the one with haeun," she added firmly.

after your coach mentioned that you would go through the choreography you had prepared with jisung, both of you began without a word. admittedly, it was impressive to see how quickly sunghoon adapted to each move whenever your coach gave instructions. you knew the routine by heart, but he didn’t – and yet, he effortlessly picked up every one of your coach’s cues and executed them flawlessly.

when it was time for the first lift, a wave of uncertainty washed over you as he placed his hands on your waist. you hesitated for a moment, doubt creeping in, but his grip was firm, offering a sense of reassurance despite your uncertainty. "it will be fine," he whispered quickly, sensing your hesitation. however, as he lifted you up, your body tensed tightly, causing him to lower you back down gently.

your heart raced as you caught your breath, embarrassment flooding in. sunghoon looked at you with an unexpected sense of encouragement, a sharp contrast to his earlier coldness. "let’s try again," he said with an almost reassuring smile. this time, as he lifted you, his steady hold began to ease your nerves. he moved with precision, making sure you were balanced and secure. with each moment in the air, you felt his unwavering focus, which calmed any lingering doubts. while you still felt a hint of uncertainty, the exhilaration mixed with a sense of safety as he brought you back down gently.

feeling like you finally made a bit of progress for the first time in months, you couldn't stop a wide smile from spreading across your lips. sunghoon reciprocated your smile for a moment before returning to his nonchalant demeanor.

after a positive remark from your coach and her request to repeat the choreography, you practiced the moves over and over again. it felt as if the confidence that sunghoon radiated was enough to rub off on you as well.

after sunghoon successfully lifted you for the last move one more time, your coach called an end to your practice, and he lowered you back onto the ice. for a moment, you looked up at him with a soft smile before he slid back slightly to create a bit more space between you.

he cleared his throat. "you're already getting better," he remarked. you nodded slightly. "yes, but those were the easy ones... there's still a long way to go," you replied. he shrugged, "well, at least now you know you're not the problem, but he was."

you bit your lower lip, a sense of guilt washing over you, even though you knew his statement wasn’t entirely true. "you're very sure of yourself," you said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"yeah, because it's the truth. in two hours, you’ve made more progress with me than with him in a week," he responded, his voice casual.

you lowered your gaze, looking at the floor as you quietly admitted, "i don't know why, but you made me feel safe today."

an odd feeling jolted through sunghoon at your words. why did you sound so vulnerable, especially in front of him? why did he suddenly feel the urge to comfort you, wanting to ensure you'd always feel safe? and, god, why was it so damn warm all of a sudden?

he cleared his throat. "just wanna get rid of you quickly," he attempted to sound nonchalant, but a soft smile slipped through.

his remark drew a chuckle from you, prompting you to look up again. it felt like his smile doubled his handsomeness, his sharp features softening, his eyes crinkling just a little at the corners.

just as you were about to say, "i'll see you tomorrow," the familiar sound of skates gliding across the ice interrupted you. haeun entered with a slight smile, ready for her practice with sunghoon. a pang of guilt hit you, knowing sunghoon still had at least four more hours of practice ahead. you gave him a short smile before you quickly turned around and made your way out, fighting the urge to turn back and sneak another glance at him.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

the next days passed in a blur. after classes, you'd go straight to the ice rink, and most of the times, sunghoon would already be there.

you weren’t sure when it happened, but the usual glare he used to give you had softened into a short, yet sincere smile, and it made your heart warm. it was comforting to know he didn’t hate you after all – or at least, he didn’t act like it.

sunghoon was gentle yet firm, encouraging you to push yourself a little more each practice without making you feel too uncomfortable. he'd hold you tight enough to make you feel secure, always letting you down gently when he sensed you were too tense, and asked your coach for breaks when you needed them.

sometimes, when you'd glance around the rink, you'd catch jisung watching from the sidelines, pretending to adjust his skates or talk to your coach, but his gaze stayed fixed on you and sunghoon.

sunghoon noticed too. you could tell by the slight tightening of his grip on your waist, the subtle shift in his stance whenever jisung was around. it irritated him in a way he didn’t quite understand. maybe it was the way jisung looked at you – like he still had some sort of claim on you. sunghoon didn’t say anything about it, but he found himself skating with more purpose when jisung was there, his movements more controlled, his touches just a little more protective. he wasn’t sure why, but every time he saw jisung, something inside him tensed, like he needed to make it clear that he was your partner now.

skating with sunghoon as your partner quickly became routine, faster than you'd expected. though every practice left you utterly exhausted, there was always a pang of sadness when your coach ended the session and sent you home. you told yourself it was just guilt, knowing that sunghoon would still be there practicing with haeun or by himself long after you had already left.

you could tell the two of you had been growing more comfortable around each other, but today’s practice felt different.

sunghoon stood a few feet away, adjusting his skates, his eyes catching yours for a brief second before flicking away. you felt a nervous flutter in your chest, an unfamiliar sensation that made you hesitate for a moment before stepping onto the ice. normally, you’d just go through the motions of practice – his hand guiding yours, his steady voice offering small corrections – but today, every little touch felt different. his hand felt warmer when it grazed yours, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“ready?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, as he held his hand out to you. there was nothing strange in the gesture, yet the simple act of slipping your hand into his felt different – like you were aware of every point where your skin met his. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made your pulse quicken for reasons you didn’t quite want to think about.

you had always thought sunghoon was attractive – that much had been obvious from the start. maybe, you even used to have a bit of a crush on him, but it was the kind of crush based purely on his looks. there was no way you'd ever actually like him. his personality wasn’t for you – he mocked you too much, was too serious, too distant, and he never got along with your brother, which only made things more complicated. whatever interest you had in him had always stayed shallow.

you nodded, focusing on your breathing. your fingers curled around his hand, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn his grip tightened just a little. nothing about it felt out of place, but it lingered, the warmth of his touch seeming to seep into your skin.

sunghoon, on the other hand, felt a slight shift too, though he wasn’t sure what to make of it. guiding you through practice had become second nature, and yet today, every move seemed to require a bit more concentration than usual. there was something about the way your hand fit in his that unsettled him, but he brushed it off.

he convinced himself it was just his body recognizing that the two of you were beginning to understand each other better – that you were becoming a stronger team. yet, deep down, he knew he had never felt this way with haeun throughout all the years he'd practiced with her. he tried to remain his focus on the routine, but every so often, his gaze flickered to you, lingering a second too long before he forced himself to look away.

when it came time for a lift, you braced yourself, ready for the momentary closeness that was part of the routine. but as his arms wrapped around your waist to lift you, his grip felt different – stronger, more careful, like he was holding you not just for the sake of the move but as if he was afraid of letting you go. your breath caught as you steadied yourself, the air around you feeling heavier, more tense. sunghoon's arms lingered around you for just a second longer than necessary, before he let you go and forced his focus back on the routine.

"you okay?" he asked softly.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and quickly looked away. you weren’t sure what was happening, but it was getting harder to ignore the way your skin buzzed in the places his hands had been.

when your coach called out a short break to catch your breaths, you took the opportunity to step back, feeling like you needed space to clear your head. but when sunghoon reached for you again, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, it sent a soft shiver down your spine.

“let’s try again,” he suggested, his voice steady but quieter than usual. you just nodded slightly and continued the practice, trying your best to focus on the routine and shove aside the strange feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

at one point, he stumbled slightly while guiding you through a spin, and you found yourself pressed against his chest. his arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you steady to prevent a fall. for a split second, the familiar panic rose within you. your heart raced as you looked up at him, your faces unnervingly close. the air suddenly felt thick. for a moment, neither of you moved, caught not only in what had happened, but in the unexpected closeness. he noticed the way your eyes had widened slightly, and a pang of guilt tightened in his chest.

“sorry,” he mumbled, the word barely escaping his lips. he didn’t pull away immediately; instead, his thumb brushed softly against your side, as if he hoped to offer some comfort.

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact, and you fought to suppress the whirlwind of feelings. you forced a smile, pretending everything was normal, even though it felt anything but.

“it’s fine,” you whispered, stepping back reluctantly, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin like a ghost. yet the weight of your fears hung in the air between you, unspoken but palpable, while he cursed himself internally for letting his concentration slip.

as the practice wore on, the tension didn’t go away. there were moments when he held you just a little closer than necessary, or when his breath hitched slightly as you twirled too close to him. the routine was the same, but everything else felt different – slower, more deliberate, like you were both aware of something simmering just beneath the surface, but neither of you wanted to face it.

when practice finally ended, you found yourself reluctant to let go. his hand lingered on you from the final pose of the choreography, and even though your coach had dismissed you, neither of you moved. it was as if the end of practice marked the return to reality, and neither of you wanted to step out of the small, intimate bubble you had somehow created.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft and almost hesitant.

you nodded, offering a small smile. “yeah… tomorrow.”

as you left the rink, you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin.

sunghoon watched as you disappeared from the rink, the warmth of your presence still clinging to the edges of his thoughts. after a short break, he moved onto practice with haeun, his body slipping into the familiar rhythm of their routine, their movements synchronized from years of skating together. yet, despite the familiar movements and haeun’s sharp focus, his mind kept drifting back to the moments before – the way your hand had felt in his, the quiet weight of your gaze when you had both hesitated to let go.

he shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung stubbornly. he had never been this distracted before. not with haeun, where everything usually felt automatic, predictable. but now, the way your warmth had stayed with him seemed to disrupt his focus, like a thread pulling his attention in a direction he didn’t quite understand.

he stumbled slightly, just enough for haeun to notice. “everything okay?” she asked, her tone more curious than concerned.

“yeah,” he muttered, forcing a tight smile. “just tired.”

but as they continued through the rest of the routine, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had somehow shifted. god, he couldn't wait to go home, take a long, hot shower, and shake off the happenings of the day.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

throughout the following practices, the tension between you and sunghoon only seemed to deepen. soft touches lingered a little longer each time, and there were stolen glances exchanged whenever you could risk them. most of the time, you’d both quickly look away, but sometimes, your eyes would lock – and something about the way he looked at you made it harder to pull away each time.

there were moments when, as soon as he broke eye contact, your stomach would drop ever so slightly, like the warmth and intimacy disappeared along with his gaze.

it felt like sunghoon began to find small ways to close the distance between you during practice. he’d guide you through spins with his hands resting on your waist, his touch firm but gentle. sometimes, he’d step a little closer than needed, his breath ghosting across your skin, or position himself so your arms brushed as you skated side by side. it was subtle, almost unintentional, but every touch and nearness sent a spark of awareness through you. you swore, once or twice he'd even tried to expand your practice time by 'just wanting to go through it one more time' although everything had worked out perfectly fine.

you still couldn't quite classify the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, the way your heart performed a small jump at each touch, but whatever it was, it became increasingly harder to ignore.

it even started clouding your mind outside of practice. more often than you'd liked to admit, you had found yourself thinking back about one certain look he'd given you, or how the slightest brush of his fingers against your skin had sent a shiver down your spine.

"you like him," your best friend had said, matter-of-factly, after you had mentioned it. but that was ridiculous. there was no way you could like sunghoon. you tried convincing yourself it was just the excitement of finally making progress on the ice again. and even if you did like him – though you definitely didn’t – it wouldn't matter. not with the tension between him and your brother, the way they could barely stand each other. getting involved with sunghoon would feel like a betrayal, a line you couldn’t cross. and yet, the thought nagged at you each time the fuzzy feeling returned.

just like now, standing in front of him after trying a new figure together for the first time. you had learned it with jisung before your injury, but until now, you’d only focused on regaining trust in the basics. you’d been nervous before the first attempt, but as you looked up at sunghoon, his soft smile seemed to melt all your worries away.

“well done,” he praised gently. you noticed the subtle twitch of his hand, like he wanted to reach out and pat your head but held back. your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you swore there was something behind the happiness – a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. you tried to brush it off, but found yourself searching his face, his posture, for clues of whatever it was you couldn’t place.

his shoulders seemed a little more slouched today, his smile not quite as bright, and his skin just a shade paler than usual. biting your lip, you furrowed your brows, a quiet concern creeping in.

“what’s wrong?” sunghoon asked, sensing the thoughts running through your mind.

“are you… are you okay?” you asked hesitantly, unsure if you were offending him.

sunghoon shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “i’m fine,” he said lightly, as if to brush away your concern. it wasn’t entirely convincing, but you didn’t want to push him. so, you nodded, offering a faint smile in return. you forced yourself to accept his answer and let it go, for now, trying to quiet the worry that still tugged at the edges of your mind nevertheless.

over the next few days, it only seemed to get worse. sunghoon’s movements a little less precise, his usually sharp focus seemingly slipping here and there. whenever you asked, he’d brush it off with a smile and insist he was fine.

but the more he shrugged it off, the more that quiet worry in the back of your mind grew, as if it was trying to tell you something would happen. and it did happen. it happened so quickly, you barely had time to process it.

sunghoon’s hands, usually so steady and sure, faltered mid-lift. you felt his grip slip, and for a terrifying second, your balance wavered in the air. instinctively, you tightened your hold, your heart racing with slight panic. it wasn’t like him – he never made mistakes like this. sunghoon was always precise, always in control, and this slip was completely out of character.

your coach shouted, rushing over as sunghoon quickly adjusted, pulling you back down safely, but the moment had already passed, the weight of it settling deep in your chest. you glanced at him, breathless and shaken, catching the flicker of concern in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a tight-lipped smile. there was a hint of guilt there too – he knew this shouldn’t have happened, and he knew you noticed, knew the effect it must have had on you.

"maybe you should take a moment," your coach advised, her voice soft but her eyes stern. sunghoon's gaze was fixated on the ice, but he gave a short nod and slid towards the exit, sitting down on the nearest bench without another word.

you bit the inside of your cheek, a heaviness settling in your heart as you slowly followed him. the sight of him – clearly frustrated – pulled at you. you lingered by the bench for a moment, unsure if taking a seat would be crossing a line. but sunghoon quickly shifted to the side, creating space for you, silently signaling that it was okay to join him.

he kept his eyes on his feet, not daring to look up, the previous incident replaying in his mind.

"don't beat yourself up over that," you tried to soothen his obvious concerns with a soft voice, "it's fine."

"my moves weren't precise today. i already messed up my own elements, and now i put you in danger too," he replied, his voice low, but his frustration clearly evident.

"nothing happened, sunghoon," you said, mustering all your strength to not take his hand in yours and squeeze it comfortingly, "maybe you just need a break? is everything okay? like… in total," you suggested once more, subtly referring to the previous times you had asked about how he was doing, hoping that this time he might finally open up.

but he just nodded, before standing up, "i don't need a break; i need practice," he declared, ending the conversation before it had chance to bloom.

as he stepped back onto the ice, determination etched on his face, you couldn’t help but watch him closely. the way he moved was both graceful and strained, each stride echoing the tension that filled the air. you felt a knot tighten in your stomach as he began to practice the solo elements he had messed up earlier.

your heart raced with a mix of admiration and worry, each jump and spin a reminder of how much he was pushing himself. the intensity in his eyes was unwavering, but beneath it, you could see the shadows of something else lurking.

he attempted a particularly complex jump, the same one that had caused him trouble before. for a brief moment, it looked like he might conquer it, but then his form faltered, and your breath hitched. you saw him hesitate, an unfamiliar flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and before you could call out, he stumbled.

time seemed to slow as you watched, helpless, your heart pounding in your chest. just as quickly as he had leaped into the air, he lost his balance completely. you gasped as he fell, the ice rushing up to meet him, and everything else faded away.

“sunghoon!” the panic surged through you as you rushed forward, the world around you blurring.

kneeling beside him, your hands hovered just above his shoulders, torn between the instinct to touch him and the paralyzing fear that gripped your heart. in that terrifying moment, clarity struck. all those signs he had shrugged off – the weariness in his eyes, the small mistakes he tried so hard to mask – must have been exhaustion from the endless hours of practice.

you felt your worries wash over you in waves again and again, feeling like they would drown you any time, as another realization hit you like a jolt of electricity: you were scared of something happening to him, of losing him. an unfamiliar ache settled deep within you, and it was in that moment that you understood – your best friend had been right all along; you liked him. you liked him in a way that twisted your heart and made your breath catch, and the thought terrified you even more.

“sunghoon, please,” you whispered, desperation coloring your voice as you gently shook him, praying he would respond.

your coach rushed beside you just split seconds later. "give him some space,” she instructed, her tone urgent. you stepped back, watching helplessly as she assessed the situation. you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.

moments felt like hours as you stood there, anxiety filling every inch of your body, until he finally fluttered his eyes open, sending a jolt of hope through you.

"sunghoon?" you asked, your voice slightly breaking, and you realized tears had started running down your face.

he blinked slowly, confusion clouding his gaze as he took a moment to focus on your face. his heart slightly dropped at the sight of you – a mixture of worry and fear written all over your tear-strained face. he opened his mouth, but you replied, before he could even pose the question.

"you fainted," you said, your voice shaking, "i got so scared."

his brows furrowed, guilt flashing in his eyes as he processed your words. “i’m sorry… i didn't mean to worry you,” he said, trying to sit up but clearly still disoriented.

"you can't keep pushing yourself like this," you said lowly, "it's too much, you have to take care of yourself," you tried your best to stay reasonable, to not let all your emotions mingle and take over you completely.

as he looked at you, the weight of everything hung between you like a fragile bridge, and you felt a shift in the air. vulnerability seeped through him, his expression softening as he realized the depth of your worry. he offered a faint smile, before grabbing your hand in his and giving it just the hint of a squeeze, unable to muster more strength.

his touch felt grounding, reassuring, despite the whirlwind of feelings swirling around inside you. for a moment, it felt like everything around you faded away.

"you've been improving so much, and i just wanted to nail the routine," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, and you swore you could hear him adding a quiet "for you."

"you don't have to prove anything, hoon. you're good and you know it. it's okay to take breaks sometimes," you said softly, mindlessly running your thumb over the back of his hand.

sunghoon couldn't surpress a smile at the nickname and the way your soft touch lingered on his hand. "i'll listen to you sooner next time."

after helping him on his feet, your coach dismissed both of you, instructing sunghoon to get some proper rest and a few days off of practice.

the two of you exited the building in silence, not quite ready to let go of the intimate moment you'd shared just a few minutes ago, neither ready to address it, however. you offered to drive him home in his car, not wanting him to go behind the steering wheel so shortly after fainting – and sunghoon had to admit his attempt to reassure you to not worry was only half-hearted. he quickly let you convince him, giving you the keys and navigating you to his place.

as you pulled up to the building, sunghoon shifted in his seat, his gaze drifting toward the door as if contemplating something. once the engine was off, he turned to you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“do you want to... do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered softly, the invitation hanging in the air between you.

you hesitated, glancing at the front door as a wave of uncertainty washed over you. you wanted to, you really did. but then again, you couldn't. what if your brother found out? what would he think?

"um... i'm not sure," you quietly answered, looking down to avoid his eyes. sunghoon’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face, but he quickly masked it. “i get it,” he said, his voice a little softer now. "but... can i ask you something?"

you nodded, curiosity piquing despite your reservations.

"why were you crying earlier?" he hesitantly posed the question.

you furrowed your eyebrows, "i was worried about you, i told you," you replied, trying to remain calm although your heart started to violently pound against your chest.

sunghoon’s gaze softened. “worried about me to the point of crying?” he echoed, as if trying to grasp the weight of your concern.

you hesitated for a moment, before slowly nodding your head yes.

"why?"

a simple question: one word that took you buy surprise, that left your head spinning. how could you possibly explain to him all the thoughts and feelings you’ve experienced over the past few weeks – how you felt when he touched you, or even when he simply looked at you?

sunghoon sensed your hesitation, wondering if he'd crossed a line – made you too uncomfortable. just as he was about to take back the question, you replied.

"because... because i think you mean more to me than i thought." your voice was low, as if embarassed by the confession.

he furrowed his brows, "what do you mean by that?"

you took a deep breath, before starting to blurt out everything that had been on your mind for so long. "honestly, i don't know myself. or at least i didn't, until i saw you fainting and i suddenly felt this strange fear of losing you. and that's when it hit me and i understood that i've been trying to ignore how i feel when you touch me, when we're close or when we just look at each other. but you make it so so hard to ignore it and–"

you interrupted yourself as you felt him taking your smaller hand in his bigger one, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you. only then did you realize all the things you had mindlessly said. "that must have sounded very stupid," you mumbled, your cheeks warming.

sunghoon chuckled softly. "it didn't sound stupid. i'm glad i'm not the only one feeling this way."

his words first brought a rush of surprise, then a flicker of relief, only to be crashed down by a wave of uncertainty. "but... hyuk–"

he squeezed your hand gently, silencing your worries with his touch yet again. "we don't have to figure everything out right now. let's just... take things slow and see where this goes?"

you hesitated, but replied with a nod and a soft smile.

your heart skipped a beat as you noticed him letting his gaze wander from your eyes down to your lips and back up. like magnets, both of you leaned in a little closer, your breath getting stuck in your throat as you felt his own breath fanning your lips.

sunghoon hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting to back to your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. "can i... can i kiss you?"

you felt your heart pick up its pace as you nodded almost shyly.

he leaned in a little more, his lips softly brushing against yours, closing the space between them. the touch was tender, almost hesitant, yet it sent butterflies through your stomach as you reciprocated the gesture, finally letting everything you'd felt throughout the past weeks embrace freely.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

after confessing your feelings, you and sunghoon agreed to take things slow, not wanting to rush into anything complicated. it started with small moments – telling your brother you were meeting up with a friend, sneaking in quick kisses when no one was looking, your heart racing each time. the thrill of being together in secret made everything feel more intense, like something you should be careful with but couldn’t resist. the excitement of new love mixed with the adrenaline of knowing you couldn’t be caught. still, every time you met sunghoon like this, a part of you felt torn, guilt gnawing at you for going behind your brother’s back. but when sunghoon would glance at you with that soft look in his eyes or find your hand when no one was around, it was impossible to stop.

now, after another late practice, the two of you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the rink, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that made your stomach flip. you pulled back, breathless. “we should stop,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “practice is over. someone might see us.”

sunghoon’s hand lingered on the small of your back, tugging you just a little closer. “just a bit longer,” he murmured, eyes filled with something that made it hard to say no. “i don’t care if they see.”

you hesitated, torn between the rush of being with him and the thought of getting caught. “we can’t,” you whispered, even as your body leaned toward him again.

just as you were about to step back, you heard footsteps approaching. before either of you could react, a familiar voice broke the moment.

“hey,” jisung called out, his tone casual.

you quickly turned to face him, heart pounding in your chest. jisung smiled, stepping closer, his arm easily wrapping around you in a friendly hug. “good work today,” he said, holding you close for just a second too long. it was the kind of hug that might’ve seemed normal to anyone else, but you could feel sunghoon tense beside you, his eyes hardening as he watched.

“yeah, thanks,” you replied, doing your best to sound natural, your breath still shaky from moments ago. you gave jisung a quick smile, hoping to cover up the tension.

jisung finally let you go, throwing a glance at sunghoon before turning toward the changing rooms. “you guys deserve your weekend off now,” he said, walking away without a second thought.

as soon as he disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, turning to sunghoon. “that was close,” you whispered, the tension still running high between you.

sunghoon shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “too close,” he muttered, clearly not talking about almost getting caught.

when you got home, you dropped your bag in the hallway without a second thought and headed straight to the kitchen for a glass of water. your brother was sitting at the table, focused on his laptop, but he glanced up as you walked in.

"how was practice?" he asked.

the water nearly caught in your throat, even though his question wasn’t unusual. he always checked in, especially after your injury and now that you were paired with sunghoon.

"uh... it was good. coach said i’ll be ready to work with jisung again soon," you lied, forcing a tight smile.

hyuk mirrored your expression. "sounds good. i have an appointment near the rink on monday, so i can drop you off at practice if you want," he offered. you hesitated, knowing sunghoon was supposed to pick you up – from the bus stop to avoid suspicion – but you nodded. "yeah, that’d be great."

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

the weekend passed in a blur, and on monday, hyuk drove you to practice, the car filled with silence. you glanced out the window, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

when you arrived at the rink, hyuk parked and turned to you with a serious look. "i need to talk to coach about my own practice," he said. "you mind coming in with me?"

“sure,” you replied, trying to sound casual, even as you felt a knot form in your stomach at the serious look he was giving you.

as you stepped inside, the familiar sound of metal on ice surrounded you. hyuk led the way, but as soon as you entered the main rink area, he suddenly stopped, his gaze locking onto something. you followed his line of sight and your heart dropped. there, on the bench, was sunghoon, his back to you.

“sunghoon!” hyuk called, his voice sharp, and you instinctively felt the air thicken around you.

sunghoon turned, surprise flashing across his face before it shifted into something more guarded. hyuk walked closer, pulling out his phone with a swift motion. “what’s this?” he demanded, holding it up for both you and sunghoon to see. on the screen was a photo of you and sunghoon in the familiar corner of the rink, sharing a kiss – captured in a moment you thought was private.

your stomach dropped. “hyuk, I can explain–” you started, panic rising in your chest, but he cut you off, his expression darkening.

“explain what? that you two were kissing?” he snapped, incredulity flooding his voice. “this is messed up, y/n. you know better than this!”

you stumbled over your words, desperate to cover it up. “no, it’s not like that! we were just–”

“yes, it absolutely is like that,” sunghoon suddenly chimed in, standing up with a mix of determination and frustration. he looked at you, his eyes reflecting both anger and a hint of regret, before turning to hyuk. “we're dating.”

you felt your heart drop at his words, a wave of shock crashing over you. “sunghoon, wait–” you tried to chime in, but he shook his head.

“don’t deny it, y/n,” he said firmly, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. he understood your attempt to conceal it, yet he coulnd't help but feel it tugging at his heart a little.

hyuk's expression twisted into a furious scowl. “you two should not be involved at all! you both should have known better!” his voice rose, filled with disbelief and anger.

“hyuk, it’s not like that–” you began again, but your brother cut you off.

“sunghoon’s probably just messing with you to get under my skin,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “you can’t honestly believe he cares about you.”

sunghoon stepped forward, his jaw clenched in frustration, protectiveness surging within him. “not everything is about you, hyuk!" he turned to you, "i'm being genuine, i–", he attempted to reach for your hand, but hyuk was quick to grab sunghoon's wrist, holding it firmly.

"don't fucking touch her," he hissed.

the tension hung thick in the air as the two of them stared each other down, neither willing to back down. you felt the weight of the situation pressing down on you, torn between the anger and hurt radiating from your brother and the fierce protectiveness emanating from sunghoon.

he looked at you, trying to lock your eyes, almost faltering at the overload of emotion they failed to hide, "she deserves better than to feel like she has to hide it," he said to hyuk, yet his gaze never left you. the intensity in his eyes made your heart race, but it only deepened the conflict swirling within you.

“better?” hyuk sneered, his voice low and dangerous. “better than what? better than the guy who will just throw her aside when it’s convenient for him? he doesn’t care about you, y/n.”

“shut up finally!” you snapped, the frustration spilling over.

sunghoon’s grip on your heart tightened as he took a step closer, his voice softening. “y/n, i care about you. i don’t want you to feel ashamed or torn. this is real for me.”

“and that’s what makes this so dangerous,” hyuk interjected, his tone biting. “you don’t see it, do you? you’re getting involved with someone who has every reason to betray you. think about it, y/n. don’t let him mess with your head just because he’s your partner on the ice.”

you felt a surge of emotion, a whirlwind of confusion and anger. the weight of their words pressed heavily on your chest. “hyuk, you need to trust me. i’m not a child!”

“trust you?” hyuk laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “you’re choosing him over your own brother? someone who’s supposed to look out for you?”

“it’s not that simple!” you shouted, the tears threatening to spill over. “you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be!”

hyuk’s gaze hardened, his voice lowering to a chilling whisper. “you think this will end well? it never does with him. don’t let him drag you into his mess.”

“i’m not a part in your stupid rivalry or whatever shit!” you retorted, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

hyuk’s expression shifted, caught between anger and concern. he took a breath, as if weighing his words. “i just don’t want to see you hurt. sunghoon isn’t who you think he is.”

with that, he turned sharply and walked away, leaving you in a storm of conflicting emotions. you felt exposed, like you were standing between two forces that wanted to pull you apart.

as your gaze followed hyuk, your heart racing, you spotted jisung leaning against the wall, his presence striking in the silence that followed. he was watching you, a mix of emotions flickering across his face – an apology, a hint of regret. you felt a pang in your heart as he turned away and headed toward the changing room, the weight of everything crashing down around you.

the practice that followed felt awkward and uncomfortable, each glide on the ice a reminder of the tension from earlier. sunghoon sensed your turmoil. he remained soft with you, his gaze filled with understanding. though he wanted to support you, he respected your need for space, accepting your decision to go home alone rather than insisting on taking you.

as days passed, hyuk’s words replayed in your mind, planting seeds of doubt about sunghoon’s intentions. “he’s just playing a game, y/n,” hyuk would say, his tone smooth yet laced with disdain. the more you heard, the more you questioned sunghoon’s sincerity. with each meeting at the rink, you felt an invisible barrier tightening between you, leaving you torn between love and uncertainty.

sunghoon noticed the change, his concern deepening. one evening, he confronted you after practice, his voice gentle at first. “y/n, is everything okay? you seem… different.”

you hesitated, forcing a smile that felt hollow. “i’m fine.”

“you don’t have to pretend with me,” he pressed. “if something's bothering you, just tell me.” he sensed what was about to come, yet it hit him like a punch in the face.

“i’m just... not sure about your intentions,” you admitted, the weight of your own thoughts finally sinking in.

his expression shifted, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “y/n, you can’t think i’m here to hurt you,” he shot back, hurt evident in his eyes. “after everything, how can you doubt me?”

you hesitated, the intensity of his plea hitting hard. “i just… need time,” you murmured.

“time? or are you running away from what’s real?” he challenged, the pain in his voice slicing through you. “you’re shutting me out, choosing to believe him over me.”

you sighed, your mind heavy with thoughts and frustration, and all you wanted was to shut everything out and be alone until it all stopped. "this isn't about you and him..."

"it shouldn't be. it should be about me and you – about us. you're choosing to let him ruin this."

as the weight of his words settled between you, you felt guilt wash over you. he was right. without waiting for a response, he turned away, frustration propelling him to leave. you stood frozen, the space between you widening, regret spreading in your chest as he walked away.

just as you were about to leave the rink, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. hell, you just wanted to finally go home.

jisung stepped forward, shifting nervously on his feet. “y/n,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “can we talk for a second?”

you kept your gaze fixed ahead, avoiding his eyes. “what do you want now?” you replied, not bothering to hide the lack of willingness to talk to anyone right now.

"i have to tell you something." he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your eyes. “i, uh… i was the one who sent the picture to hyuk,” he admitted, the words tumbling out quickly. “i didn’t think it would cause this much trouble. i was just… feeling kinda–” he paused, struggling to find the right words, “jealous? i never wanted it to blow up like this.”

the words felt like a punch to the gut, anger rising within you. “why would you do that?” you asked, hurt lacing your voice.

“please, just listen–”

“you know what, no,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “i don’t want to hear it. you’ve already done enough.” you turned away, the weight of his confession heavy in the air. you walked out of the rink, desperate to finally escape the chaos.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

days after the incident, you hadn't spoken a word to neither of the three. you had asked your coach to take a break from pair skating, telling her you wanted to focus on mastering your solo routines. it was a lie – you just needed space from everything and everyone.

across the rink, hyuk leaned against the barrier, arms crossed and expression unreadable. a few feet further stood sunghoon, who had come for his own practice, a tense silhouette against the bright ice. though they weren’t speaking, hyuk could feel the electric tension in the air between them. his gaze flicked between you and sunghoon, noticing the way sunghoon watched you. there was a softness in his eyes, a longing that tugged at hyuk’s heart.

sunghoon's brows furrowed as you executed a particularly difficult move, his expression a mixture of admiration and concern. each time you stumbled, his body tensed, as if he wanted to rush forward to catch you, but he remained rooted in place. hyuk’s gaze narrowed slightly as he observed this; it was clear that beneath the facade, sunghoon genuinely cared for you.

hyuk watched the interplay between you and the ice, his heart heavy with unspoken words. sunghoon’s intensity was palpable, and it ignited a flicker of frustration within hyuk. he pushed himself away from the barrier, moving toward sunghoon with determination.

“hey,” he called out, his voice cutting through the air. sunghoon turned slightly, his expression shifting from concentration to guardedness. “we need to talk.”

“about what?” sunghoon replied, his tone laced with defiance.

“about y/n,” hyuk said, glancing back to ensure you were still focused on your practice. “i was wrong to come between you two. i don't trust you, but i can see it. you care about her.”

sunghoon’s brows furrowed, a mixture of surprise and frustration washing over his face. "what changed?"

"i’ve watched how you look at her, the way you worry when she struggles. that’s not something you can fake. it’s clear you care more than i thought.”

sunghoon hesitated, his expression softening under hyuk’s scrutiny. “i do care, but it’s complicated. i didn’t mean for things to get so messed up.”

hyuk sighed, hesitantly giving in. "i was the one to mess it up," he admitted.

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the way hyuk's expression softened.

“you know,” hyuk continued, “you should really talk it out with her. she’s been off these past few days. she used to come home with a smile after every practice.” his voice trailed off as he realized the weight of what he’d overlooked in recent weeks. “and if you’re the reason for that smile, then… i suppose i’ll have to accept it, right?”

sunghoon remained silent, unsure if he could truly trust hyuk’s words. yet the thought of you beaming after spending time with him tugged at his heart, igniting a deep desire to keep that smile alive.

"just don't let her down, okay? she deserves to be happy," he said, reaching out to softly pat his shoulder, before walking off.

as you finished your practice, a glance toward the rink’s edge caught your attention. hyuk and sunghoon stood together, an exchange of words passing between them, and you could even see hyuk gently squeezing sunghoon's shoulder. you furrowed your brows. you swore you'd never seen an interaction like this happening.

moments later, you saw sunghoon approaching you, his expression soft yet earnest.

“y/n,” he began, his voice laced with hesitation, “i’m really sorry for everything that happened... i shouldn’t have pressured you or put you in that position.”

you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. “no, it’s my fault,” you replied, your heart racing. “i let hyuk get in my head and i shouldn’t have let that come between us. i was so scared of disappointing him that i lost sight of what really mattered...”

sunghoon stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “i shouldn’t have told him about us like that. i was frustrated, and it felt like i was losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “i never wanted to make you feel trapped or unsure.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you took a breath, feeling the sincerity in his words, and for the first time you openly confessed, “i love you, sunghoon. i don’t want to hide that anymore. i just want us to be okay.”

he nodded, his expression softening further, his heart fluttering from your confession. “i love you too, y/n. and i promise, no matter what, i’ll always fight for us.”

his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, instilling a sense of certainty that made you feel grounded and safe. you stepped closer, minimizing the distance between you, and softly brought your hands to rest on his chest. sunghoon responded by placing his hands on your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, before leaning down to tenderly brush his lips against yours – all out in the open, finally for everyone to see. <3

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angelicyoongie · 1 year ago

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lovesick (X)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 4.8k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, spanking as punishment, minor injuries, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You wake up to the sound of gravel crunching under Namjoon's shoes.

Your face is tucked against his chest, breathing in the scent of the crisp night air that lingers on his coat. It takes you a moment to reorient yourself, for the last tendrils of unconsciousness to slip away.

It all comes crashing down over you like a cold bucket of water as reality sets in; he's taking you back to the cabin.

It'll be as if the last hours never happened, as if you never stepped foot outside the sturdy wooden structure. You're going back to them – except, perhaps it won't be the same men that you left that you'll have to face once you step back inside. The soulmates you ran away from were terrible and selfish but they were never cruel. After your failed escape attempt, however, you no longer know if that still rings true. If that's something you can count on.

Your body locks up at the thought of the monsters waiting for you down the road, muscles spasming with the need to move despite the utter exhaustion weighing you down.

Namjoon tightens his grip around your middle as you grow stiff, arms locking you securely against his body.

"You're awake," He notes, the usual honey in his voice gone. "It's for the best. We can deal with everything much quicker this way."

The fearful whine that shoots up your throat gets trapped behind your teeth, your lips too numb for the noise to pass through them. It takes great effort for you to move your head over, turning just enough that you're able to pick up on your surroundings. Namjoon must have parked just down the bend from the cabin, his steady steps already closing in on the dark silhouette looming between the trees in the distance.

Your heart feels like it's trying to beat itself out of your chest as you pick up on muffled yells, shivers racing down your frozen spine as you make out six distinct voices. The soft light emanating from the cabin sends ferocious shadows dancing across the ground, their movements erratic and violent.

It gets harder to breathe the closer you get, your chest refusing to move as Namjoon steps up on the small patio in front of the entrance. Blood rushing in your ears, you try to make yourself as small as possible in his arms as he reaches out for the handle, wishing you could just melt away into nothing. Anything would've been better than this.

The cabin goes deadly still as Namjoon pushes the door open.

Your vision blurs as you're brought into the heat, your eyes stinging as you attempt to blink some moisture back into them. You can barely make out the six fuzzy figures scattered around the room, their bodies stock still as if they're frozen in time. The chilly wind that blows into the cabin is nothing compared to the sight that greets you as your eyes adjust – the six men in front of you looking everything from angry to icy to hurt. A few of them even have the gall to glare at you with something akin to betrayal; like you were only stringing them along for your amusement and not your survival.

It leaves you trembling with fear, the knowledge that no matter what you do, nothing will make them understand that they're the ones in the wrong. That they're the selfish ones.

Namjoon takes another step forward, chest rising with a small sigh as he readjusts you in his grip. Perhaps he regrets bringing you back now that he can see the state the others are in, their hair and clothes rumpled, the furniture in the common room strewn about like a hurricane has torn through it.

You glance back up at his face in time to see him set his jaw, his voice tight as he says, "We're back."

The door that slams shut behind him jerks the cabin back into motion, the noise that was sucked out before suddenly rolling over the room like a crashing wave. You screw your eyes shut as their yells blend into each other, feet thundering across the room as they stumble over themselves to reach you.

"What were you thinking?!" You flinch as Taehyung's voice booms across the cabin. You can't discern if it's anger or concern that's got him so agitated, so loud, and that scares you.

"Calm down, Taehyung. I know you were worried but this isn't the way to show it," Yoongi hisses.

His voice drifts closer, a little softer, as he addresses you, "You're lucky Namjoon found you, Y/n. You're already chilled to the bone."

"Never scare me like that again, angel," Seokjin sounds wobbly as he pats over your hair, hushing the choked noise you make at the contact.

Your eyes flutter open against your will at the low, irritated snort that travels through the room.

Jimin stands with his arms crossed over his chest by the couch, scowling as the two oldest keep fretting over you. "Don't tell me you already forgot why you were so distraught in the first place, hyungs? Y/n ran away. She was just playing with us with whole time – she doesn't love us."

Seokjin's fingers still in your hair, the warm touch of his hand slowly receding as he takes a step back. He throws a hard glance over his shoulder, mouth pinched in annoyance, "Jimin, did I not tell you to shut up for the rest of the night?"

Jimin grits his teeth at Seokjin's tone, turning his head to stare blankly at the wall.

"He's right though," Hoseok says, hand brushing over Jimin's shoulder as he steps closer. "Y/n tricked us. She betrayed the trust we gave her and we can't let that slide without any consequences."

"What are you suggesting?" Namjoon leans back on his heels, fingers digging into your thigh.

"She deserves a punishment," Hoseok blankly states, eyebrows cocked as he stares you down, "Don't you agree, Y/n?"

"N-no," You weakly shake your head.

The tsk you get from Hoseok in return makes you recoil, the fear in your body so tangible you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

"I think you're right, Hobi."

A small, betrayed gasp leaves your lips as you hear Yoongi's careful drawl. His agreement stings more than expected, somehow you had deluded yourself into thinking that Yoongi wasn't as bad as the other men in the room; that he and Jungkook actually seemed to care a little for you and not just your soulmate connection.

Jungkook still hasn't moved from where he's sat in one of the big ratty armchairs near the couches. His doe eyes are shiny with tears when you meet them across the room. Jungkook starts curling in on himself the longer you look, shame pulling at his features as he ducks his head.

"Fine," Namjoon says, "But nothing too bad."

"Of course not. I don't actually want to hurt sunshine, she just needs to learn a lesson," Hoseok scoffs.

The men around you share a look, a silent conversation passing between them. You have no idea what they're thinking but it frightens you to know that this must have been something they have already discussed, that they've already decided on a punishment should you ever disobey them.

"Who–?" Seokjin trails off, biting his lip nervously between his teeth.

"I'll do it," Taehyung sounds chastised, his voice meek as he adds, "I should do it."

He takes a seat in the middle of the couch, dragging his hands over his jeans as he gives Namjoon a nod to show that he's ready.

"W-what, no!" You uselessly tug at Namjoon's coat as he strides across the room, your frozen limbs making it impossible to fight back as you're carefully manhandled across Taehyung's lap.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, keeping your legs glued against the couch as you futilely try to push yourself up with shaking arms. Another hand is pressed against the small of your back, rendering your movement useless. No matter how much you try to squirm, you're simply too exhausted and cold to shake them off.

It takes you a second to recognize the position you're in, disgust curling in your stomach as it hits you that you're about to be spanked.

"I'm not a c-child," You bite through clattering teeth, fingernails digging into threadbare cushions.

"No? You sure act like one," Hoseok scowls. "Big girls wouldn't run off like you did."

You jerk as Taehyung's hand settles on the back of your thigh. You turn your head back to look at him as the others crowd around the couch, voice breaking as you whisper, "Please don't."

Taehyung doesn't meet your eye. His gaze is trained resolutely on his hand, his expression pinched. The corner of his mouth is downturned as he moves his hand from your thigh to your butt, his long fingers easily spanning over one cheek.

You let out a shuddering breath at the unwanted touch, pressing your forehead to the couch to hide away from the six burning pairs of eyes that surround you. Taehyung's fingers flex against the material of your trousers as he murmurs something under his breath, the feeling so weirdly intimate it makes your eyes cloud over, hot tears trailing down your temple.

"It's just ten, babe. We could do a lot worse," He comments gruffly.

There's no preamble before Taehyung raises his hand and delivers the first hit, the harsh smack echoing through the room. You bite your tongue, choking down the strangled cry that tries to rush up your throat.

You feel the imprint of his fingers burn on your cheek, the sudden pain so consuming you barely register how someone else hisses out a low curse.

It's only when Taehyung is on the third hit that you feel how he jolts as his hand makes contact; how it takes him a moment to collect himself before he delivers the next one. The fifth smack brings a weird sense of clarity to you, Yoongi's irritated cough finally making you realize that you're all feeling Taehyung's slaps. Your soulbond is connected through pain so the hurt that blooms with every hit doesn't just affect you – it has an impact on them as well.

The somber atmosphere in the room isn't just because they're disciplining you for running away; they're also punishing themselves for letting it happen.

You let out a harsh breath at the next smack. Despite the numbness in your limbs, you can feel how horrible your butt is stinging, the alternating hits doing little to lessen the pain a new one brings. It becomes harder and harder to think with each hit, your mind slowly falling apart under the excruciating combination of fear, exhaustion and pain.

The final smack seems to linger in the room and the silence that follows feels so thick you might crumble under it.

Your right-hand aches as Taehyung uses his to lightly rub over your smarting ass, his breathing shaky as he tries to soothe the bruises that are no doubt already starting to form.

"Hyung," Taehyung rasps.

The hands pressing on your back and ankles disappear in an instant. Taehyung springs away as Namjoon lifts you, moving your body into Seokjin's waiting arms. You try to blink away the tears clinging to your lashes as Seokjin leans you back against his chest, taking some of the pressure off your backside as you're maneuvered to lay on your side.

"You're absolutely freezing, angel," He tuts. He motions for Yoongi to grab him a nearby blanket, quickly tucking you in. The warmth that wraps around you is a small comfort, but it's not nearly enough to quell the shivers that are still rattling through your body.

"Let's do this quick, she needs to warm up."

You swallow thickly as Namjoon kneels by your feet, gently pulling your socks off. They're so cold you struggle to move your toes.

It's not until a rush of warm air hits your exposed skin that you realize you're hurt. Your soles are aching something fierce and you catch a glimpse of blood on the socks Namjoon throws down beside him.

"Darling," Namjoon furrows his brows as he looks at the torn skin, tongue poking into his cheek in disappointment. "Why did you do this to yourself?"

He shakes his head as if you're going to answer him. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Namjoon wordlessly accepts a small basin of warm water and a cloth from Hoseok, wetting and wringing the material out before he brings it to your feet.

You let out a wounded hiss as he makes contact, your foot involuntarily jerking away from the water that stings your open cuts. The quick movement causes you to drag your sole against the couch and it only causes you more hurt, a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

"Fuck," You whimper, body shaking against Seokjin's as Namjoon quickly reaches out to grab your foot, holding it securely over the side of the couch. You can feel Seokjin's leg twitch as the pain moves through the soulbond, the others grimacing as they feel it too.

"Angel, please be careful," Seokjin admonishes as he tucks his head over your shoulder, holding you in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against yours.

You shudder as Namjoon once again brings the cloth back to your skin, wincing as he meticulously and carefully cleans up all the dried blood and dirt clinging to your wounds. Namjoon's voice is perturbed as he moves on to your other foot, holding it with a firm grip as he says, "This is why we were holding you down during your punishment, darling, so you wouldn't hurt yourself more by moving around. We don't enjoy doing any of this."

You choose not to voice your disbelief. Judging by the sour look Jimin sports as he stares you down, you're sure it's written all over your face regardless.

Namjoon hands off the dirty water and cloth to Yoongi, switching it out with an antiseptic cream that he starts dabbing on your cuts.

Seokjin's warm breath hits the corner of your mouth as he cautiously asks, "What made you come back, Joon? You weren't supposed to return until tomorrow."

The bandage that's being wrapped around your left foot pauses, Namjoon tilting his head as he mulls over what to respond.

"I think it was that pull you've talked about before. I just suddenly felt like I had to go back to the cabin, that I was needed here," He lets out a low snort, humorless. "I guess whatever feeling it was, was correct."

"Interesting," Yoongi muses. He leans against Jungkook's chair, absentmindedly patting the youngest's hair. Jungkook leans into the comforting touch, face still marred with shame as he chances a glance over at you in Seokjin's arms.

You stare blankly down at Namjoon's hands as he finishes up one bandage and moves on to the next, his words echoing in your head. Did the soulbond somehow call him back? If it knew you were trying to put distance between yourself and your soulmates, can it work against you to keep you from separating from them?

You don't want to believe that it can affect you that much. But if it is true, does that mean your own soul is betraying you – that it'll do whatever it takes to keep you close to these monsters who don't actually care about you, as long as it'll keep the bond strong?

"It's definitely too strange to just be a coincidence," Hoseok purses his lips.

The sweater you picked out this morning suddenly feels too heavy on your shoulders. Was it just by chance that you picked out one that belongs to Namjoon, or is there something else to it? Can you even trust yourself anymore?

You barely register as Namjoon finishes wrapping up your foot, the blanket being pulled away from your body as Seokjin lets go of your waist. Your chest is tight and your vision spotty as you're handed off to Yoongi, too many awful thoughts and feelings all vying for your attention at once.

You feel yourself being carried again, the lights going from soft to bright, but it's like everything is underwater, muffled and out of reach. Yoongi's blurry face is suddenly in front of yours and it takes you once, twice, to focus on what he's saying; for the words to make any sense. "–can you do it yourself?"

Yoongi sighs as you stare blankly back at him. He brushes a finger down your trembling jaw, wincing at how cold your skin feels. "Y/n, you really need to warm up. I'm going to place a stool for you inside the shower so that you can rest and we can keep your feet outside of it and dry. I know you'd rather not have me undress you, but are you able to do that yourself?"

"Yes," You croak, disgust rippling across your body as you think of Yoongi undressing you, of any of them seeing you so vulnerable.

"Okay," Yoongi says, unconvinced. You bite your lip harshly as you're placed down on the closed toilet seat, the pressure awful on your bruised ass.

Yoongi steps over to turn the shower on for you, the old pipes rattling as water starts spewing out of them. He keeps his hand under the spray until he deems the temperature good enough. His expression is sorry yet firm as steps back, nodding to the door as he explains, "I can't leave the room but I'll keep my back turned to you the entire time. You're too weak to be left on your own right now. I won't turn around until you tell me it's okay. I promise."

"Do you want help to get over to the stool once you're undressed?" Yoongi eyes your bandaged feet, eyebrows drawn tight with worry.

"No," You whisper.

The toilet is only a few steps away from the shower but even just that feels like miles with a body so tired and battered. Still, you're willing to push yourself until you collapse if it means none of them will touch you like that.

"Just let me know if you need help, love," Yoongi sighs as he walks over to the door, facing it head-on like promised.

Getting undressed is a battle but it's one you refuse to lose. You keep your eyes locked on Yoongi's back as you pull off layer after layer, the steady steam rising in the bathroom only making your shivers worse. You refuse to strip down further than your underwear, the pieces offering you some modesty in a situation that just feels so mortifying.

You pull yourself up on your feet with a yelp, legs shaking with pain as you slowly hobble over to the shower. You're not sure how you manage to maneuver yourself down on the stool but you do, and the relief of warm water cascading down your frozen body is so great you can't hold back the sob that rips out of your throat.

Yoongi's back tenses as he hears the broken noise, his hands gripping the doorframe to keep himself in place. He never turns his head, choosing instead to rest it against the door, taking deep and measured breaths as he listens to your choked cries and whimpers.

The warmth slowly returning to your limbs is downright awful. The cold clinging to your skin refuses to bulge at first, and when it finally does slip, it feels like pins and needles being hammered into your flesh as the water rains down on you. The shivers slowly ebb away the longer you sit in the shower, your dry calves and feet prickling with the weird temperature difference.

You lose track of time as the heat gently returns to your body, face swollen and puffy as the last of your hopelessness trickles out through your eyes.

You're exhausted and everything hurts. It's like your mind and body has been fractured into a thousand pieces, all of them poking and pricking you no matter what muscle you flex or what direction your thoughts try to stray.

You just want to sleep, to forget, for a little while.

Yoongi straightens up as the water is turned off. His voice is hoarse, much like he's been crying himself when he asks, "Are you done, Y/n? Are you still cold?"

You take a deep, shaking breath, filling your lungs with as much bravery as you can muster. "'m done."

"Wrap yourself up in the towel by the shower, love. Let me know when you're covered, yeah? I'll open the door and grab the clothes Jungkook left for you."

You do as Yoongi asks, watching as he opens the door just enough to snatch the clothes waiting for him outside. He walks backward towards the shower, still somewhat respectful of your privacy as he leaves them on the toilet. "Take the time you need to get dressed. I'll wait by the door until you're ready."

Your mind is hazy and drifting as you attempt to dry yourself off, exhaustion weighing your lashes down. Slipping your wet underwear off under your towel in exchange for Jungkook's clothes isn't an easy feat, pain still flaring up your feet as you're forced to put pressure on them. Still, it's a small consolation that Yoongi doesn't attempt to help you until you raise your voice and say that you're done.

Yoongi sweeps you up into his arms before you can even blink, strong arms holding you close to his chest. He swallows hard as he glances down at you, voice unbearably soft as he says, "I really am sorry, Y/n."

He, much like Namjoon, knows he won't be getting an answer. Yoongi steps out of the bathroom with measured steps, making sure not to move you around too much. The cabin is dark and quiet as he carries you down the hallway, the others nowhere to be seen.

"It's been a long day for all of us," Yoongi mutters as if he senses your confusion.

Your fingers find Yoongi's shirt as he steps closer to your room, shock hitting you like a lightning bolt as you see the state of it. The door is broken off its hinges, halfway torn off the frame. The desk you pushed against it is flush with the wall and the rest of your room looks absolutely trashed. Furniture has been flipped over as if they were looking for you under it; your belongings scattered everywhere. The brute force they must have used to get into the room makes you realize just how badly this return, this punishment, could have gone for you.

The moment passes as Yoongi walks further down the hall, but the sick feeling in your stomach lingers.

He nudges one of the ajar doors with his foot, stepping into the room as it opens. The bedroom is bathed in soft light, the pillows on the bed fluffed and the covers already drawn aside. Yoongi carefully places you down on the mattress before he tucks you in, his expression troubled as he watches how you wince and grimace as you try to get comfortable.

"This is Seokjin hyung's room," Yoongi explains, "He'll be staying with you tonight. We ... we're going to be taking turns watching over you."

"Thank you for the introduction, Yoongi-chi," Seokjin's smile is a little strained as he enters the room, a glass of water clutched in his hand. He places it down on the table next to you, patting Yoongi's back before he takes a seat in the plush chair that faces the bed.

"You can go rest now."

"Alright," Yoongi nods. He meets your gaze for a split second, mumbling out a gentle goodnight before he turns on his heel and leaves.

Seokjin lets out a small sigh as the door clicks shut. "I should've given him a talking to for not drying your hair properly but I'm sure you're tired, angel. Damp hair must be the least of your worries right now, huh?" He shakes his head.

You pull the covers up to your chin, eyes alert despite how your lids keep attempting to fall shut every other second. There's not an ounce of trust for them in your body but it's so terribly difficult to stay awake when you want to do nothing but sleep.

"I'm sure you saw the state of your old room," Seokjin winces, "You'll be spending one night with each of us on rotation. You might not wish to have us so close all the time but you shattered the trust we had in you, Y/n."

He folds his hands in his lap with a frown, staring down at his slightly crooked fingers as he says, "You can use the bathroom alone as long as one of us is right outside of the door, but aside from that, we're going to have to watch your every step. We won't allow you to hurt yourself again. I'm sorry it had to come to this but, well, it was the best thing we could settle on."

You close your eyes to avoid the sad look Seokjin gives you, your chest constricting with fury. If they're trying to guilt trip you, it's not working. You can't believe they're trying to frame all of this as them simply looking out for you when in reality, they're robbing you of any agency you have.

As you take deep breaths to quell the anger bubbling in your stomach, you feel yourself growing heavier and heavier, your body sinking into the mattress below. You want to be angry, you want to fight, but what's the use? You won't get another chance at escaping the cabin and your own soul clings to the soulbond, refusing to let you weaken your connection to them.

You fist the sheets, sniffling as darkness begins to drag you under. If the universe wants you here, wants you to stay with them, maybe.. maybe it's time you give up and accept it.

You wake up, drowsy, to the sound of something clattering. It takes you a second to realize that it's coming from you – your teeth rattling in your mouth from the cold that has seeped into the room while you slept. Everything is dark aside from the pale moonlight shining through the window on the other side of the room, your breath fogging up the air in front of you as you breathe.

You gingerly flip over on your other side, pulling the sheets as tight to your body as they can go, but it doesn't help fend the cold off. It's no wonder this cabin is abandoned during most of the year, not if it's reliant on the fireplace in the common room to heat up the entire place.

After what feels like an eternity of shivering, you hear Seokjin's raspy voice calling out in the quiet room. "Angel? Are you cold?"

Fabric rustles as he shifts in the chair. You hold yourself as still as possible as footsteps pad across the wooden floors, Seokjin's darkened silhouette coming into view. He hesitates by the side of the bed for a second, just enough for your teeth to start clattering again before he makes up his mind and climbs in. The mattress dips as Seokjin's weight settles upon it, the man in front of you scooting down until he's facing you in the dark.

A rush of cold air hits your body as he raises the sheets to shimmy under them, an arm curling around your waist before you can even think to open your mouth. Seokjin presses himself flush against your body, mindful of your injuries as he tucks your face into his neck.

"I'm still upset with you, angel, and I know you're upset with me, but you need my body heat if you want to sleep."

Seokjin is very warm.

You inch closer without even meaning to, your sleepy brain desperate for the heat that radiates off him. Seokjin lets out a small gasp as your cold nose skims against his throat, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you close.

Sleep slowly begins to weigh down your eyelids again as you soak up Seokjin's warmth, your body relaxing so deeply it feels like your bones have been turned to mush. The last thing you remember is Seokjin nuzzling his face into your hair, lips pressing against it in a soft kiss that makes your heart flutter.

Perhaps, if you had been a little more awake, you would've realized it wasn't fear that made it skip a beat.

a/n: you can read ch 11 of lovesick early by clicking here!

it only took ten months but we're back baby!! how are we feeling about what happened in this chapter? namjoon bringing her back, the boys' reaction and her "punishment", her private moment with yoongi and seokjin ... lots of things happened so i would love to hear what you're thinking!!

see you in the next chapter and remember to wish jimin a happy b-day!! 💖

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere seokjin #yandere taehyung #yandere namjoon #yandere kpop #bts soulmate au #bts au #yandere bts x reader

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random-fandom1984 · 8 months ago

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Can I have some g1 soundwave x reader please😅😅😅😅😅

Being the only femme Cybertronian on the Ark can be... something. Especially when some of them try hitting on you without getting to know you; quite annoying really, but you keep it pushed down; but some people can tell because of your alt-mode.

You stayed in the Ark because of your job as a medic. Your alt-mode is a heartbeat monitor, which also corresponds with your sparkbeats, which is how some people, very few, can tell what you're feeling.

You made your own little base of operations under an abandoned amusement park. You'd bring in people who were injured and left behind in the ruckus of the battlefield between the two factions. Human or Decepticon.

Whenever it's a human, you'd ask them to promise to not tell your Autobot friends about your place of escape, and they do. But with Decepticons, you make sure that they are knocked out, and you just give them a few amounts of anesthesia because they would break in, destroy the place, kidnap you and hold you for ransom against your friends.

One day, when looking through one of the many aftermaths of a battle, you found a minicon in the rubble, Soundwave's minicon: Frenzy. When you took him back to your base, you realized you've forgotten to stock up on more anesthesia, so now you have to worry with the fact that he might wake up soon as you did the procedure of fix-and-repair.

As you were putting your tools away, he woke up with a fright, and you quickly explained the situation to him, which slightly calmed him down. Key word: Slightly. He was suspicious of you but is slowly diminished as you continued to work on the minor injuries that just need a new paint job and be buffed. The last bit disappeared in an instant when you gave him an Energon Goodie.

When he came by again, to your surprise that he remembered the way here, you gave a tour of the place above, he somehow managed to get the place up and running again; thank Primus that your location was miles away from the nearest civilization.

As time went by, Rumble found out, then Ravage, then Laserbeak. When they come to visit, it would be like as if there was no war, they're having a good time in the amusement park.

Sooner or later, Soundwave got suspicious. Where were his kids minicons going late at night?

Being the best spy he is, he followed them, and was surprised that they were hanging out with an Autobot, weren't fighting like there was a war, stopping a fight between Rumble and Frenzy as calm as possible- and somehow easily get them to make up?! He couldn't do that without them continuing to squabble with each other.

He used his telepathy powers to look into your thoughts to see if you secretly had ill intentions with his sons minicons, but there wasn't any!

When his minicons return back to base, it's an instant interrogation the moment they step foot back in the habsuite: How long has this been going on? How did this happen in the first place? What do she always do with them? The only questions that were about you were answered back with positivity.

Curious, he decided to look more into your file when the Decepticons fight the Autobots near the Ark. When he does, all he finds is all good things.

When it was the next time they decided to visit, he wanted to meet her in person. And so he did, and by Primus were you nervous. You were worried he might blow your helm up. You, Soundwave, and his minicons walked through the park, watching the minicons play games, ride the rides; he began to trust you.

The more you all hang out in private, at your secret location, the more you begin to bond closer together, mainly you and Soundwave; the minicons noticed it as clear as day.

So, being mischievous little ones they are, Rumble and Frenzy decided to stage a lil' something. In private, the minicons would call Soundwave Sire, or dad in human terms. So, when the next time you and they met up, they would unexpectedly drop Carrier, mom, at random times in the night. When they first did it, they'd put on an act like as if they didn't mean to say it and it just slip. You fell for their act, so did Soundwave because it was unexpected.

They see you? An Autobot medic? As a parental figure? I mean, sure, you heal up their injuries, you give them Energon sweets if they be good and behave, calmly deal with their fights, gives them sweet head pats, have the most caring optics he's seen, the most beautiful smile- Oh, scrap! He's in love.

He would lie awake at night, questioning why he found you attractive. For starters, your gently touch that he felt when you repaired him, your smiles seem to shine brighter than any star, and sound from your vocalizer was like a siren's call and he was the sailor that was lured by its enchanting melody, your optics the prettiest shade of blue that rivals with this hunk of rock's sky, have the spirit of a Carrier with his kids- Primus, he was hooked, lined and had sunk deep.

After he came to terms with his newfound emotions, he started noticing something about you. Every single time he was close to you, he'd see the screen of your alt-mode, on your chassis, start getting taller. One time, he danced with you as music played in the park, and he saw that the big spikes became frequent, and a subtle blush would be on your cheek plates that you try to hide with your servo and turning your helm to the side. He found this adorable, so much that he became addicted to having that cute blush on your face.

When back on the Ark, you would get pings from an unknown comm-link number, only to realize it's Soundwave, and he's sending you something. When you are finally alone in your habsuite, you would take a look to see that they were poems; they were so sweet, you reread them, laying on your berth, kicking your feet as you excitedly giggle from how nice, sweet, and adorable they are that they might as well be invitations for Cupid to continue to shoot arrows into your spark, making you fall harder for the Con.

When they spent the night in your secret base, you all had fun doing any activity that comes to mind: pillow/blanket forts, teaching the little ones the steps on how you make your glorious Energon Goodies, etc. The last activity was a horror movie marathon. Every time a jump scare would pop up on the screen, you would hug the closest bot, and it just so happened to be Soundwave. During the horror movie marathon, you, Soundwave, and his kids ended up in a cuddle pile, scared, all but Soundwave, Ravage, and Laserbeak.

They decided to spend the night here before returning to the Decepticon base at the break of dawn. You decided to put the little ones to sleep. He decided to start cleaning up the mess that was made, and when he finished, he came back to you telling the ending of an old Cybertron bedtime story.

To him, it looked so nice and peaceful, and you looked so motherly that he just wanted to confess right there, right now. What sealed the deal was you placing a goodnight kiss on the top of their helms, tucking them to sleep before leaving the room they were occupying, only to be dragged off to somewhere by Soundwave, into the place you slept in from time-to-time.

You wondered what was happening, until Soundwave got on one knee plate, servos holding your own, visor looking up into your optics, glistening as he let out a very poetic, charming, delightful, exquisite of him telling you about his feelings, everything about you that made his spark soar: your voice, your optics, your touch, everything.

He carefully watched the screen on you chassis to see if there was any indication of making you uncomfortable or not. And by the end of his heartfelt confession, he watched the heart monitor didn't make any giant spikes. Oh, no. It made a heart at the center of the monitor as blush covers your entire faceplate.

Part 2 coming soon!

#transformers #transformers g1 #transformers g1 x reader #g1 x reader #soundwave #soundwave x reader #g1 soundwave x reader #cybertronian reader #frenzy #rumble #laserbeak #ravage

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flemingology · 29 days ago

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Hi !! :D Following your most recent post I wanted to request smth for Jessie . Basically reader is not used to celebrating Christmas since she had problems with her family growing up which lead to them never celebrating it in their household . Cue to now where Jessie and her are spending their first ever Christmas as a couple , Jessie invites reader to her parents’s for Christmas and it becomes the first time reader gets to celebrate it ? Just really fluffy mostly (idk if what I wrote made sense English is not my first language 😭)

home for the holidays ─ jessie fleming x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: jessie and her family are determined to change your mind about celebrating christmas

warnings: talks of a poor youth, poverty, financial issues, dysfunctional family dynamic but also lots of fluff, i promise

wc: 4.6k

a/n: first part of the christmas series! combined a couple drafts of jessie taking reader to celebrate christmas with her family. hope you enjoy!

Growing up, you missed out on a lot of things due to the precarious financial situation of your family. Your dad had incurred a work-related accident when you were three years old, leaving him bedridden with permanent spinal cord injury. Your mum worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, trying her hardest to muster up the money to take care of both you and your father. Nonetheless, your family struggled. You never experienced any of the traditional things that most kids did; no birthday parties, no holidays, no trips to the zoo or an amusement park, and certainly not Christmas. You dreaded the Christmas holidays. It confronted you with the dysfunctional family dynamic, never having the money to buy presents, let alone decorate the house.

The longer you found yourself in the terrible conditions in which you grew up, the more you promised yourself that you would try and break that vicious cycle. From the age of 16, you started looking for a job. You struggled, a lot of employers judging you based off your background, but eventually you managed to get a job at a local supermarket on the corner of your street. When you weren't at school, you were working, and when you weren't working, you were helping your mum with household chores. You didn't have any free time at all, but you kept reassuring yourself it would all be worth it in the end.

By the age of 20, you finally felt like you could look forward a little. You had finished school at 18, and now had been working full-time in the supermarket for 2 years, still helping your mum out with the household and even giving a big part of your income to her to help out with dad's care. Besides that, you opened a savings account for yourself, where you put the remainder of the money you made every month. You felt like you were slowly but surely creeping out the vicious cycle, paving the way for yourself to have a more positive looking future. You didn't have to take things day-to-day anymore. You started doing some charity work for OHOH: Oregon's Harbor of Hope – an institution caring for the homeless people of Portland. When you weren't on the clock in the supermarket, you went out there to help the volunteers. OHOH worked on giving homeless people a safe space, a community, and the essential services they needed to stabilize their lives.

You stumbled across the organization while browsing on the internet on a library computer, and you'd felt the fire in your belly to help them. You wrote down the address on your hand and went to check it out the following day, opening up about your past experiences and about how you thought you could aid OHOH. They took you in, welcomed you with open arms, and you had been one of the main volunteers there for the past three years now. But if anyone had told you that you'd meet the love of your life at one of their fundraisers, you would've never believed them.

OHOH organized fundraisers on every first Friday of the month. They were open for everyone who wanted to come check out the institution and help out – whether that be financially or actual engagement. That's where you met Jessie. Jessie, who also stumbled across the organization while scrolling through her socials. Jessie, who was so eager to help the local community. Jessie, who you bonded with the first time she came around and then she just kept coming. Every first Friday of the month she'd be there, claiming she was just there to help out, but she knew deep down that there was more to it than just helpfulness.

Jessie and you got talking on her first time visiting OHOH. You took it upon yourself to show her around the place, explaining her the ins and outs about the services you offered, Jessie listening to you with care and intent. Before you even realized, you started opening up about yourself to the Canadian. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you and you felt at ease, Jessie not judging you for any of the things you opened up to her about. It was late into the night when you two wrapped up, the only two people still hanging around at the fundraiser. You had an early shift in the supermarket the next day and you already knew you'd curse yourself for staying up late today. Jessie lingered a little while you locked up, and you caught yourself stealing a glance of her every now and then. You said your goodbyes then, parting ways with Jessie's promise that she'd be back next month.

And she was. And then again the next month. Jessie and you had grown closer over her past couple visits. You felt something warm and fuzzy coursing through your body every time you talked to her, a foreign feeling you'd never experienced before and you didn't really know what to do with it. Things with Jessie were easy. It felt like a fresh start, like a blank page ready to be written on. Jessie, on the other hand, cursed herself every time she left the fundraiser without asking for your number. She was in her head about it, thinking she might just be reading in to things, but she couldn't deny her feelings for you anymore. Not when your touch seemed to linger a little bit too long after she pulled you into a hug, not when you memorized the way she drinks her coffee after only making her one once, not when the way you said her name would make her stomach flutter in ways she'd never felt before. So she promised herself that next month, she'd ask for your number. And if you then didn't seem to be on the same page, well then at least she tried.

When next month came around, Jessie found herself trying to make an extra effort to look good on Friday. She usually wasn't really one to be very bothered about her outfits, but she caught herself standing in front of her wardrobe a little too long for what was just a fundraiser she'd been at multiple times. After a quick shower and freshening up a little, she made her way over to Portland's city centre, expertly navigating the roads to a place she'd visited frequently enough to know the way by heart. She noticed you from a little while away, talking to some of the other volunteers by the entrance. You spotted her too, giving her a small wave from across the street, which Jessie readily reciprocated. She scolded herself over how excited she got over the little gesture. She quickly made her way over, greeting everyone before eventually finding herself opposite you. You engulfed her in a hug, the embrace a welcome barrier against the cold Portland wind that nipped at Jessie's skin. "Hey. Thank you for coming," you mumbled against her, slowly pulling back from the hug. "Always."

You went through the motions, as you did every month. Talked to newcomers, caught up with old visitors, gave tours and explanations on what you did at OHOH. Jessie busied herself, talking to people here and there, sharing experiences with the people of Oregon. It was a welcome change for her, being somewhere where nobody really knew who she was. To be taken as herself, as Jess, not so much as Jessie Fleming – the Thorns and Canada midfielder that everyone seemed so eager to get a piece of. That's one of the main reasons she was so fond of you. You didn't know who she was. You hadn't found out yet either, or you were just very good at hiding it. It never came up in conversations, either. The only time Jessie spoke about football was the first time you met each other; when you asked her what her hobbies were. Football. A hobby. If only you knew. Jessie realized that she'd have to tell you at some point, but she liked the calm for now. The comfort.

As the night furthered, you two started gravitating towards each other more and more. From fleeting glances whenever you passed her with a new group to guide around the building, to quick conversations in between catch-ups, to full on spending the last hour of the fundraiser tucked away in a slightly more quiet corner, talking to each other like it was the easiest thing in the world. Neither you could deny the feelings that were starting to build inside you anymore. The fuzzy feeling remained, and now your skin felt tingly whenever Jessie's touch was on you. It excited you, really, but it made you oh so nervous. Scared, even. You'd never felt this way, not in your 24 years of doing life had you ever felt like this about someone. You didn't know what love was. Your mum loved your dad, you could see that, but that got lost in the dysfunctional dynamic of the family. Platonic love isn't something you experienced either throughout your youth, your peers had never been fond of you. You'd gotten used to that, grown accustomed to being alone. Not lonely, though, you didn't mind being alone. But this was different. Jessie made you feel all kinds of things and she made being alone feel like the worst thing in the world. You wanted to be around her, be alongside her, be with her.

You'd noticed a nervous touch in Jessie's behaviors that night. A little more restless than usual, a little more jumpy, much less controlled. Controlled. Jessie was always controlled. Although, that's what she thought. She liked being in control. In control over her thoughts, emotions, her behaviors. But the way she was fiddling with her fingers, the way she kept tapping her feet and how she seemed to stumble over her otherwise so composed words, you knew something was off.

"Are you okay, Jess?" You'd just locked up the building as the fundraiser came to an end, another successful evening wrapped up. You'd been building up the courage to ask her the question all evening, much as she had been trying to build up the courage to ask for your number – unbeknownst to you. You glanced at her over your shoulder when she didn't give you a reply. "Jess?" You raised your voice a little bit, seemingly startling the freckled Canadian. "Hmm?" She cocked her eyebrows, a nervous glint in her eye. You chuckled and made your way over to her, stalling opposite of her. "I asked whether you were okay. You've been a little... off tonight, or something? I don't know. I just wanna make sure, you know." You carefully approached the subject, not knowing if you were just overthinking things or if something was genuinely up.

Jessie cleared her throat. "Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I don't know. Bit off, I guess," she said distractedly. "You sure?" You decided to pry a little, inching closer towards her, your fingers nearly brushing hers. She chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she met her gaze again. "Yeah, it's fine, I promise. I think- I've just been in my head a bit this evening, I'm fine." A frown painted your face as you listened to her words. "Mhm, okay. You wanna tell me what it is? I hope I didn't do anything to upset you." You wracked your brain trying to think of a moment in the past couple hours that could've possibly upset the Canadian, but you blanked.

"No, no, God, no, it's not that. Please, don't worry about that," Jessie chuckled before continuing, "it's not you. It's me, I swear." You cocked an eyebrow at her. "'It's not you, it's me'? Really, Jess?" You couldn't contain the uneasy feeling that started to grow inside you as the conversation progressed. It seemed like Jessie didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, but she gave you just enough of an insight to keep you on your toes – it was almost annoying you. "No, fuck- I'm making it worse." Jessie rubbed her hands down her face and lifted a hand when she saw you were going to speak again, ordering you to wait. "I've been in my head tonight, yeah. But it's nothing to do with you. Well- in fact, maybe it does. But, not like that. You know? I'm just-" "Jessie Fleming, what are you trying to say? Get it over with."

Jessie took in a deep breath, trying to compose herself, before she opened her eyes and a waterfall of words left her mouth. "Wouldyoumaybewanttogivemeyournumber?" You slightly tilted your head and gave her an amused look, cocking an eyebrow when her gaze fluttered down. "Jess, I couldn't make much of that, I'm sorry." You couldn't help the chuckle that crept up your throat, you'd never seen the Canadian this unsure. "Would you maybe want to give me your number?" Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you took a moment to process her words, but Jessie assumed your silence was your way of denying her request. "I mean, you don't have to, really, I was just asking because- uhm, because, you know, things for the fundraisers and stuff. It's okay, honestly-" You cut Jessie off by a placing a hand on her chest and searching for her gaze that was flicking everywhere but to your face. "Hey, take it easy. Take a breath, okay?" Jessie's eyes were filled with concern but she did as you asked, feeling her chest expanding and deflating a couple times underneath your hand. "I'd love to give you my number."

Safe to say that you and Jessie struggled to find your way with one another. You, not used to romantic love, or love in general, you struggled with accepting Jessie's affection. But in the end, you made compromises, communicated with one another about what worked and what didn't, and you had been in a relationship that you could only describe as perfect for the past 8 months. Jessie and you complimented each other. You fit together. She got you up when you were down, and vice versa. You learned very quickly about her career in football, something that took you completely by surprise when she told you. You adjusted, you compromised, and it worked. You were happier than you'd ever been.

Your first big argument with your Jessie didn't come until December, near Christmas time. Jessie insisted that you came with her back to Canada to celebrate the holidays with her and her family, but you insisted on staying home. You didn't want to be a bother, and as much as your girlfriend had tried to convince you that you wouldn't be, the thought remained firmly planted at the forefront of your mind – whatever Jessie did, not helping to get rid of it.

You'd told Jessie about your upbringing. How it hadn't been the best, how you'd missed out on all the traditional things. You never went into much detail, not wanting to relive your past, preferably living in the now, but Jessie knew. That's the reason why she always treaded very carefully when approaching the subject, not wanting to pry or ask too much leading to you closing yourself off. It wasn't until after one particularly rough night with your girlfriend – the both of you spending the best part of 30 minutes fighting about the whole ordeal – that you thought it was best to just get it over with and tell Jessie why you were so reluctant.

You told her about how you spent most Christmases at home. No Christmas tree or Christmas lights because they would cost too much, no Christmas films because renting one was way out of the budget, never any fancy meals as the holidays were just another period of trying to survive off stale bread and canned vegetables. You told her how you'd felt jealous in school, embarrassed even, your peers gushing about the presents they received or the family dinners they went to, while you had nothing to bring to the conversation. Not that they wanted you to be part of it, anyway. You explained to Jessie that you just didn't know how to celebrate Christmas, and that you didn't want to be a burden to your family and to herself. You didn't know how to replace those feelings of resentment with new ones, forever feeling guilty at how much better you had it now than then.

The Canadian assured you that she understood, but she also saw an opportunity that she was ready to take with both hands. She tried convincing you one more time to come with her, how she would make sure to take care of you and be gentle with introducing you to all the Christmas traditions. That you didn't have to worry about her family, who always seemed to think 'the more, the merrier' when it came to these types of days. You'd met them before, twice, when you accompanied Jessie on her occasional weekend going back home, and you knew they liked you. It wasn't that that you were worried about, it was more so that you just didn't know how to act during these types of days. What do you do? Say? What do you wear? Should you get something nice or do they prefer you to just wear something cozy? How do you behave? What presents do they want? Many questions and so very little answers.

Eventually, after some more raised voices and a lot of frustration, you agreed. Agreed on accompanying your girlfriend to Canada, the prospect of being with her and her family much more enticing than having to be on your own in your shared apartment for 3 weeks. When you finally, albeit reluctantly agreed, Jessie couldn't wipe the grin off her face even if she tried. She gently cupped your cheeks and leant her forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss against your nose. "I promise it'll be good. It'll be so much fun and we'll take everything slow. Your pace, hmm?" She pressed a couple more kisses against your nose, before leaning down and pressing a gentle, fleeting kiss against your lips. You exhaled deeply and closed your eyes, leaning your forehead on her shoulder. "Yeah," you sighed, "yeah. We'll be fine. It'll be fun." Jessie sensed the hesitance in your voice, and promised herself then and there that she'd do everything in her power to make the holidays a fun time for you.

Traveling to Ontario wasn't that bad. No delays, no abundance of traffic, no problems with baggage, your 3-week getaway had gotten off to a perfect start and it did wonders to relieve you from some of the stress you'd been dealing with the past couple weeks leading up to this trip. Jessie and you had hired a car to drive yourself from the airport to her childhood home. You could've taken a cab, but figured it would be easy to have an extra car at home for if you wanted to go somewhere, just the two of you. You'd been in London before, but Jessie was adamant to reintroduce you to all the spots she'd shown you around before, insisting that it would be a completely different vibe now that everything was decorated for Christmas. The drive went smoothly, your plane arriving a little past 8 meaning you just about dodged the flurry of evening traffic. Your eyelids were growing heavy in the car, exhausted from the long plane journey, and with the low hum of the engine and Jessie's fingers tracing soft patterns on your thigh, it didn't take long for you to doze off against the car window.

You didn't wake until a few hours later, when Jessie put a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook you to try and wake you from what had seemed quite a deep sleep. "We're here baby, wake up," she whispered, putting a couple strands of hair behind your ear that had fallen across your face. You grunted, eyes still closed but you stretched, sitting up straight and leaning into Jessie's touch. "Tired," you grumbled. "I know, baby, it's late. We can sleep when we're inside, yeah?" You opened your eyes and looked at your girlfriend, who was sporting a small smile on her face. "You're cute when you snore." She gave you a small wink and pressed a kiss on your nose, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning across you to open your door. Any protests that were forming in your head about how you were not a snorer died in your throat as you felt the cold wind coming from outside nipping at your skin. You hurried outside, any propositions to help your girlfriend with the bags waved away as she carried all three of them comfortably to the front door. You rang the bell, not allowed any time to complain about the weather as it took no longer than a couple seconds for Jessie's mum to open the door.

Michaele sported a beaming smile and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears as she pulled her daughter in a heartfelt embrace. It'd been a while since they saw each other. Jessie opted to stay in Portland after her domestic season had ended, the environment motivating her more to stick to her training plans than if she'd gone home early. She also still had a couple Canada camps to attend to, so she needed to stay on top of her fitness if she wanted to perform. It'd been close to 4 months since she'd been home, and you could tell that it had been weighing on her. Jessie had always been very family-oriented, so her excitement to come back home for the holidays was second to none. Especially since she managed to convince you to come too.

Ever since Jessie introduced you to her family, they took you in as part of the family. Her parents never questioned anything, loved you as one of their own and you managed to bond quite well with Tristan and Elysse. You truly felt at home with the Fleming's, a feeling you never managed to experience within your own family. It lead to a lot of uncomfortable feelings at first, when you realized that you felt more comfortable with strangers than with your own mother, but Jessie reassured you that it was okay. That it was okay to feel those things, to be upset, but that you'd never have to worry about experiencing such love ever again. She'd make sure of that.

Safe to say that Jessie kept her promise of making sure the holidays went by smoothly for the two of you. Your first week in Ontario went by quickly, the two of you re-exploring the city in which Jessie had grown up so many years ago. You visited coffee spots, strolled around her elementary school, went for dinner at her favorite burger restaurant and spent a lot of time with her family. Game nights, movie nights, going out for walks together, you name it. Jessie's family dynamic was so different to what yours had been, it was a breath of fresh air. It was healthy.

Your getaway went by quick and before you knew it, you were reaching the final week of the year. You woke up on Christmas morning with a weird feeling in your stomach. You knew everything would be fine – Jessie assured you it would, but you couldn't help the nerves that were settling in your stomach the moment you stirred from your sleep. You'd bought everyone a present, it wasn't much, but you hoped it would suffice. You didn't want to come empty handed, especially not when Jessie's family let you stay with them for the best part of a month. The feeling of being an intruder in their house had long faded, a heartfelt conversation with Jessie's mother aiding to you feeling at home within their house.

Your girlfriend must've sensed your restlessness that morning and woke up not long after you, pulling you down in a warm cuddle before agreeing to get up together. You made your way downstairs and were pleasantly surprised to see you were the first ones up. Jessie made you and her a steaming warm mug of coffee, before cuddling up with each other on the couch. You looked out across the garden, snow wrapping the town in an icy blanket of cold.

"You wanna make cookies?" Jessie's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Cookies?" You weren't opposed to the idea. It was nice to be alone for a moment, doing something together – just the two of you. "Yeah, cookies. I can't say it's a tradition, we don't do it every year, but sometimes my mum makes these Christmas cookies. Her own recipe. They're really good." Jessie raked her fingers through your long strands of hair from her position behind you on the couch, your back resting tight against her front. You craned your neck towards her. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

You and Jessie got to work in the kitchen, combining your forces to try and make sure the cookies would be as good as when Michaele would make them. You followed the recipe step by step, measuring and mixing the ingredients that would soon come together in small, bite-size, Christmas sugar cookies. It made you feel at ease, to have a little moment with just Jessie, before the prospect of what would surely be a busy day. Just the two of you, cuddling up to each other in the kitchen while making something that reminded Jessie of her childhood. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like home. A minute or 20 later, you put the cookies in the oven. 18 of them, 3 each.

Elysse and Tristan had already made their way downstairs, with Jessie's parents following suit only a couple minutes later. You all made some small talk, Jessie now also providing coffee for the rest of her family members. Before long, you all gathered in the living room where the presents would be given out.

"We've got the stockings first, as always," Michaele announced. She opened a bag that was sitting near the edge of the sofa and started giving them round, everyone receiving a stocking with the letter of their first name. What you didn't expect, though, was you to get one yourself. So when everyone had gotten their stocking and Michaele reached back into the bag to get one for you, it was hard to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. Jessie noticed this, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back as you thanked and hugged her mom. You'd never felt more loved, more part of something than in that moment. You were part of their family, part of their home and everyone wanted to make sure you knew that.

The rest of the day went by so much better than you could've imagined. The Christmas cookies turned out perfect, some more family members came over for lunch, you went out for an afternoon stroll and then you all watched a Christmas movie on the sofa together late at night. You were feeling apprehensive about many things before you both took off to Oregon, but it's safe to say that Jessie kept her promise of trying to turn Christmas into something joyous for you.

Ever since that year, you hadn't missed a holiday season with the Flemings ever again. And you wouldn't want to have it differently anyway. Because after all, they were your family.

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