#and she’s like ‘I support you but……maybe just try this first’

[chimcess]

⮞ Chapter One: Homecoming Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Coach!Yoongi Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Word Count: 19.1k+ Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player. Warnings: Reader is injured and still using crutches, meet-cute reference to an unhealthy relationship with mom, absent father, parental issues, pining, low self-esteem, reader has anxiety, reader is very stressed out, honestly my girl is just exhausted, very pushy neighbors (but we love them for it), Taehyung is adopted, this is really just an introduction to everyone so not many warnings here... A/N: Happy New Year! Let's kick things off with a new massive series. This one will touch on very heavy topics such as toxic parents, mental health issues, and non-consensual touching. Please proceed with caution. New Chapters every month!

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I never used to think about what came next. Why would I? It felt pointless, like trying to guess the ending of a book while you were still tangled in the messy, middle chapters. Life just kept happening—fast, breathless, one page after another. And sometimes, if you were lucky, you got close to something that felt like a dream. So close you could almost taste it. But right when you reached for it? That’s when life reminded you—books close, lights go out, and suddenly, you’re right back where you started.

Normal? I wouldn’t know normal if it walked up and smacked me in the face. Normal was for people who wore stiff blazers and drank bad office coffee. My mornings started in the dark—lacing up my skates, the air so cold it bit at my skin. Stretch until it hurt. Practice until the moves weren’t moves anymore, just instinct. The rink smelled like sweat and frost and that sharp, unmistakable scent of wanting something too much. It clung to me.

That was my life. Until it wasn’t.

I don’t even remember learning how to skate. I just always had. The ice was the one place that made sense, the only place where my body and my brain felt like they belonged to the same person. My mom, Emily, saw it first. That spark in me. And once she saw it, she never let go. She didn’t just support me—she pushed. Hard. Like a storm rolling in, relentless and all-consuming. Maybe to her, that’s what love looked like.

People whispered about her. Said she was chasing her own lost dreams through me. Maybe she was. But I never resented her for it. Her ambition was like a fire—sometimes too hot, sometimes too much. But it kept me warm. Even when it burned.

She’d been a skater once, too. Until life happened. Until she got pregnant with me, married my dad, Jim, and let go of whatever dreams she had left. Some people move on. She never did. She carried that regret around like a weight, year after year, until all she had left was me. And the ice. I was her second chance.

She met Jim when she was still young and restless, and he was passing through town for police training. They fell in love, or at least, something close enough to it. Then I came along. A courthouse wedding, a move, a slow unraveling. Eventually, Emily and I left for Colorado—chasing the ice, chasing the dream. Jim stayed in Olympia, sinking into his routine until it swallowed him whole. I became the thing in between, stretched between my dad’s steady, distant world and my mom’s all-or-nothing drive.

Michigan wasn’t home anymore. Hadn’t been for years. But here I was.

The intercom crackled to life, yanking me out of my head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re beginning our descent into Detroit, where it’s currently five-eighteen p.m. and a frigid fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. Please secure your belongings.”

Fifteen degrees. Typical Michigan.

I stared out the window, my knee aching, a bitter little reminder. I was supposed to meet Dr. Jeon on Monday. People swore he was the best. But I already knew it didn’t matter. The moment my skate caught that rough patch of ice, when my body twisted and my world turned upside down—I knew.

It was over.

I could still see it, clear as a photograph: the rink bathed in pale afternoon light, Swan Lake drifting through the air. I wasn’t even competing, just skating for the sake of skating. My mom and my coach sat in the stands, talking about my next routine. I picked up speed, heading into a fan spiral—when it happened. My blade caught. My leg gave out. I went down hard.

The plane’s landing gear hit the tarmac with a screech, shaking the memory loose. My heart pounded. I gripped the armrest, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

Passengers stood, jostling for overhead bags, but I stayed put. No point in rushing. My crutches were cold in my hands, awkward, unfamiliar. A few months ago, I could glide across the ice like I belonged there. And now? Now I could barely walk through an airport without feeling like I might tip over.

At baggage claim, I stared at the conveyor belt, watching suitcases circle like they had all the time in the world. My hands were full. My leg was useless.

"You need a hand?"

The voice came out of nowhere. I flinched, turning too fast, and there he was—tall, brown-eyed, and looking at me like he could see straight through all my carefully constructed defenses. Before I could respond, someone bumped into me, and my crutch slipped from my grip, clattering against the floor.

I wobbled, reaching out for something—anything—to steady myself. But he was faster. His hands caught my arms, firm but gentle, like he’d done this before. Like he knew exactly how to keep someone from falling.

For a second, the world around us—the airport, the noise, the blur of people—just stopped.

"You okay?" His voice was warm, steady, like it belonged to someone who never panicked.

I nodded quickly, my face heating. "Yeah. Fine." A lie, probably. But what else was I supposed to say? No, actually, I’m currently living my worst nightmare, thanks for asking?

He let go slowly, like he was making sure I wouldn’t tip over again, and bent down to grab my crutch. When he handed it back, his eyes lingered—not with pity, but something else. Something softer.

"Thanks," I muttered, gripping the crutch tighter than necessary.

He smiled—easy, unbothered. "No problem." But there was something behind it, like maybe he had more to say.

The airport rushed back to life around us. People zigzagging past, voices bouncing off the high ceilings, the endless hum of somewhere-to-be energy. But for just a moment, it still felt like we were in a separate, quieter place.

He glanced at the mess of luggage by my feet. "Need help with your bags?"

My pride answered before logic could. "I’ve got it."

Which was a bold thing to say, considering I clearly did not have it. My knee throbbed, like it was rolling its metaphorical eyes at me.

But he didn’t argue. Just shrugged, like it was all the same to him. "Alright. But it’s no trouble if you change your mind."

I shifted my weight, felt the sharp twinge, and sighed. "Okay, yeah. I could use some help."

The words tasted weird in my mouth. He didn’t seem to notice. He just grabbed my suitcase like it weighed nothing, balancing my smaller bag on top.

"Someone picking you up?" he asked as we made our way toward the sliding glass doors, where the cold Michigan air lurked like a villain in a horror movie.

"Nope. Just grabbing a cab," I said, weaving through the crowd. But I was aware of him next to me, solid and steady, like an anchor I hadn’t realized I needed.

"I’ve got my car in the overnight lot," he said, so casually it almost sounded like a throwaway offer. "I could give you a ride."

I hesitated. Too fast. "No, it’s okay," I said, maybe a little too quick, a little too sharp.

Something flickered across his face—disappointment? Or was I just imagining it?

We stepped outside, and the cold hit. Hard. I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers instantly regretting every life choice that led to me not bringing gloves.

He noticed. His mouth twitched into a knowing smile. "Forgot what Michigan feels like in January?"

"Yeah," I muttered, hugging my coat closer. "Something like that."

I should be used to it. I grew up on ice, for God’s sake. But this cold felt different. It wasn’t just outside—it was creeping in, settling deep, gnawing at something raw.

"So, where were you before this?" he asked, breath curling into the air like smoke.

"Nevada. Before that, Colorado. We moved around a lot." I didn’t even know why I was telling him this. I didn’t even know him.

"We?" He raised an eyebrow, like he already knew the answer but wanted me to say it anyway.

"Me and my mom," I said, my voice quieter now. "She’s not really the ‘stay in one place’ type."

He nodded, like that made perfect sense. "A modern-day nomad. Sounds... exhausting."

I let out a small laugh, more reflex than anything. "Yeah. It can be."

And maybe it was just the exhaustion, or the cold, or the fact that he felt easy to talk to, but this whole conversation was starting to feel less strange. Less like a fleeting airport moment and more like something solid.

"You staying here for a while?" he asked, his dark eyes locking with mine, the cold suddenly not as noticeable.

"For the foreseeable future," I said, surprising myself with how easily it came out.

"Good to know." His voice softened, like it was some kind of inside joke I didn’t know we were sharing yet. And that crooked smile? Yeah. Dangerous.

My pulse did something stupid.

What was I even doing? Standing here, flirting with a stranger in the dead of winter? This wasn’t real life—this was the kind of thing that only happened in bad rom-coms and half-formed daydreams. But with him, it felt real. Too real.

"Maybe I’ll see you around," he said, running a hand through his hair, which—of course—fell back into place in that perfectly messy, I-don’t-care-but-I-do way.

"Yeah, maybe," I said, even though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

"You live nearby?"

I should already be in a cab. I should be out of this cold, heading toward whatever was left of my life. But instead, I was still standing here, asking questions I had no business asking.

"Detroit," he said, his breath hanging in the air like something unfinished.

"Me too," I blurted out. "Just moved there, actually."

"Downtown?" He asked it like my answer mattered more than it should.

"Royal Oak," I said. "The old houses there... they’re beautiful."

"They are," he agreed, and there was something in the way he said it, like he was noticing things about me I didn’t even realize I was showing. His gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips, and for a second, the space between us felt smaller, thinner, like something was about to snap.

Then the wind did it for us, slicing between us like a blade.

"Welcome to Michigan," he said, laughing, his voice warm against the cold.

And then, before I could react, before I could process anything, he reached down and took my bare hands in his.

His hands were warm. Too warm. Like touching them had flipped some hidden switch inside me.

I felt it. Everywhere.

For a second, I swore the ground shifted.

"We should get you a cab," he said, glancing down at my frozen fingers, his expression softer now. "You’re not exactly dressed for this weather."

"Yeah, I probably should’ve planned better," I admitted with a laugh, but I was barely paying attention to the cold anymore. Just the heat from his hands, the way they made everything else feel less cold.

He waved down a cab like he’d done it a hundred times before, easy and effortless. I stood there, watching as he loaded my bags into the trunk, every movement feeling like a countdown. And then, when he pulled open the door for me, I just... stood there.

At the edge of the moment. Caught between stepping forward and holding still. Between leaving and staying.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, looking up at him, my heart knocking against my ribs.

“Jungkook,” he said, soft, like he was handing me something delicate. His smile was still there, tugging at the corner of his mouth like he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” I replied, my own name slipping out so easily, like it had been waiting to be said here, in this exact moment, in this freezing air between us.

He repeated it—slowly, like he was trying it on. Like it was something worth holding in his mouth for a second longer. “Y/N,” he said again, quieter this time. And then he leaned in, just a little, like he was about to tell me a secret.

And suddenly, everything else—the cold, the noise, the rush of people around us—blurred out. It was just him, standing too close, that crooked grin making me wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of whatever this was.

“Yeah, Jungkook?” I asked, my breath hitching, anticipation curling in my stomach.

“My friends and I... we go to this bar on Grand most Tuesdays. Bronx?” He said it like a casual suggestion, but it wasn’t casual. It was a bridge. A next step. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime?”

A thrill shot through me—quick and unexpected. He wanted to see me again.

“Yeah,” I stammered, trying to sound normal, trying to sound like my pulse wasn’t suddenly in my throat. “I could swing by. Once I’m settled in.”

“Great.” His whole face lit up, and it was like watching a door crack open, just enough to glimpse something softer behind it. "I’ll see you around then, Y/N."

And just like that, he stepped back, shut the door behind me, and the moment ended.

The cab pulled away, and I turned, craning for one last look. He was still standing there, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, watching me go. When he caught my gaze, he waved, easy and casual, like this whole thing hadn’t just knocked the wind out of me. I lifted my hand in return, but my chest was still tight, my heart still racing.

I slumped back against the seat, pressing my forehead to the cold window, hoping the chill would slow my thoughts down. Because now that I was alone, the doubts started creeping in. The what-ifs.

Would I actually show up at Bronx? Or would I do what I always did—let the moment fade, tell myself it wasn’t real, convince myself it was just a weird, fleeting connection that didn’t actually mean anything?

But then I thought about him. About that lopsided smile. The way he said my name like it was something worth remembering. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself wonder...

What if?

It was a little past seven when the cab finally rolled to a stop in front of my new apartment building. The sky had darkened into that deep, bruised purple, the kind that makes the world feel just a little heavier. The cold hit me full force as I climbed out, my crutches clattering against the pavement.

I was so tired. That kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones, heavy and unshakable.

The doorman noticed immediately—a grizzled guy with kind eyes and the weary patience of someone who had seen a lot of people start over. He moved toward me with the kind of practiced ease that made it clear he had done this before. Watched people show up with too many bags and too many hopes. Watched them leave, sometimes with less of both.

Without a word, he took my luggage, leading me toward the elevator like it was second nature.

Apartment 311 smelled like fresh paint and nothing else. The kind of emptiness that didn’t just sit in the air—it echoed. My footsteps bounced off the bare walls, and for a second, it felt like I was in a storage unit, not a home. No couch. No bed. Just a hollow space waiting to be filled with something real.

I let out a long breath. The cold inside the apartment was different from the cold outside—sharper, lonelier. Like even the air hadn’t settled in yet.

I pulled out my phone and ordered a pizza. Pepperoni and mushrooms, with a side of breadsticks. It felt like a stupidly normal thing to do, like maybe if I just ordered dinner, it would trick my brain into thinking everything was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That I wasn’t standing in the middle of an empty apartment with nothing but a suitcase and a sinking feeling in my stomach.

By the time I hung up, the ache in my chest had settled in for the night. This was real. No backing out now.

I called Emily.

Her voice was a mix of relief and tension, like she wanted to be happy I’d made it but also wanted to remind me that I had things to do. That I had to get back to training. That I couldn’t just pause. But I was pausing. I was standing in an apartment with no furniture, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers. And I just... couldn’t deal with it right now.

After a few strained minutes, I made an excuse and hung up. The silence rushed back in, filling the space like water, drowning out everything else.

I wandered through the empty rooms, my fingers grazing the white walls. The place felt sterile, like a waiting room for a life I hadn’t started living yet. Outside, the city buzzed—car horns, laughter, people moving through their lives like they knew exactly where they were going. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching them pass. Families. Students. Dog walkers. Everyone seemed to belong to something. To someone.

And me? I felt like a glitch in the system. Like I’d been dropped into the wrong life by accident.

Jungkook’s face flashed in my mind. The way he’d said my name, like it meant something. Like maybe I wasn’t as lost as I felt. I let myself picture it—walking into Bronx on a Tuesday night, catching sight of that crooked grin. It was just a thought, a little flicker of something warm. But I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

The apartment was still too empty, but at least tomorrow there’d be furniture. A couch. Shelves. A coffee table, maybe. The kind of things that made a place feel real.

But the real gem of the apartment wasn’t the kitchen or the big windows. It was the alcove by the entrance—a tiny nook with a built-in window seat, framed by bookshelves. A little space that felt hidden from the rest of the world. I could already imagine curling up there on winter nights, listening to the snow tap against the glass. And for the first time since I got here, I could almost picture it—this place turning into something more than just four walls and an address.

A knock at the door snapped me out of it.

I hobbled over, stomach growling. Pizza. Finally.

But when I pulled open the door, it wasn’t the delivery guy.

It was a girl. Petite, but somehow larger than life, dressed in a black knit sweater dress and a sequined mini that shimmered in the dim hallway light. Her hair was buzzed short, dark and soft-looking, and she had cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. But it was her eyes that stopped me—deep brown, warm, familiar.

They reminded me of him.

“Hey!” she chirped, like we were old friends. “I’m Mina. I live in 312. The pizza guy accidentally brought your order to us, so I figured I’d bring it over and say hi.”

I blinked at her. Processing.

“Thanks,” I said finally, shifting on my crutches. “Would you mind setting it in the kitchen? I’m a little... restricted.”

“Of course!” Mina breezed past me like she’d lived here her whole life, her boots clicking against the hardwood. She set the pizza down and turned back, eyes bright with curiosity. “So... what happened?” She gestured at the crutches.

“Sports injury,” I said, keeping it vague. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Just not the whole truth.

Mina nodded like that was good enough. “Well, I hope you’re healing okay. Must be rough, moving in while dealing with all that.”

“Yeah,” I said, relieved when she didn’t press. “Thanks again for bringing the pizza.”

“No problem! Consider it a ‘Welcome to the Building’ gift.” She grinned, then suddenly froze, her eyes going wide.

“Wait... you don’t have any furniture, do you?”

I sighed. “I’ll figure something out. It’s just one night.”

Mina looked personally offended by this information. Then, before I could stop her, she scooped up the pizza box and waltzed right back out the door.

I just stood there. Staring. Processing.

Did she really just take my dinner?

With a groan, I grabbed my bag and pulled out fleece pants, a tank top, and my track jacket. Changed. Gathered up my toothbrush, phone, and keys. Then, still half-stunned, I hobbled down the hall to apartment 312.

I knocked, my heart pounding for no good reason.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Mina standing there.

It was a tall blonde woman—striking in that effortless kind of way, like she had never tripped over a curb in her life. She had long, golden hair that fell like silk, sharp dark eyebrows, and deep brown eyes that were almost black. Where Mina crackled with chaotic energy, this woman felt like still water. Collected. Unshakable. The kind of person who didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

“Hey, come on in,” she said, her voice low and a little raspy. “Mina said you’d be staying with us tonight.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, stepping inside, feeling weirdly self-conscious. “I don’t want to impose—”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving a hand like my words were actual garbage. “Once Mina decides something, there’s no point arguing. You might as well accept your fate.”

Before I could respond, Mina barreled into the room, now in yoga pants and a t-shirt that looked like it had been washed a thousand times.

“I knew you’d come!” she declared, triumphant.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice,” I said, trying for casual, even though my chest still felt tight. “You did steal my dinner.”

“See? It worked!” Mina grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Trust me, this is way better than eating alone in an empty apartment. You’re smart for coming over.” She paused, eyes widening like she had just remembered something vital. “Oh my God, I didn’t even ask your name. I get so carried away sometimes.”

“Y/N,” I said. “Y/L/N.”

“Welcome, Y/N,” the blonde said, leading me toward the kitchen. “I’m Leera, but you can call me Lucy if you want. And don’t worry—you’ll get used to Mina’s... enthusiasm.”

The apartment was warm and lived-in, a contrast to my own echoing space. I caught sight of the pizza box Mina had stolen—but there were three more stacked on the counter, the air thick with the smell of melted cheese and garlic.

“What’s with all the pizza?” I asked, glancing between them.

“We ordered some too,” Mina said, flipping open a box like a game show host revealing a grand prize. “They just happened to show up at the same time. Fate, obviously.”

Lucy pulled my bottle of Diet Coke out of the fridge and held it up. “Want some ice?” she asked, like she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” I said. And just like that, I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease.

It didn’t take long to figure out that Mina and Lucy were more than just roommates. Mina was an event planner—weddings, galas, parties—which made so much sense. Her whole vibe was confetti and last-minute ideas and carrying three coffees at once. Her family was originally from Wisconsin, though her great-grandparents had immigrated from Korea. Lucy, on the other hand, was her exact opposite. She worked in classic car restoration, which honestly stunned me. She had the kind of delicate, elegant energy that made me assume she spent her time doing something refined, like designing couture dresses or sipping espresso in a minimalist art studio. But no, she rebuilt engines. She smelled like vanilla and motor oil.

“Most people don’t believe me when I tell them,” she said, smirking as she popped open a can of sparkling water. “But I love it. It’s in my blood.”

Mina and Lucy weren’t just best friends—they were family, their lives so tightly woven together it was hard to tell where one story ended and the other began. Mina was engaged to Lucy’s brother, and Lucy was dating one of Mina’s. It was the kind of connection that felt inevitable, like the universe had put them in the same orbit on purpose. Every time Mina mentioned her fiancé, Jimin, or Lucy talked about her boyfriend, Taehyung, their expressions softened, like even thinking about them made the world a little warmer.

And somehow, I was here too. Sitting at their kitchen island, laughing, eating stolen pizza like I belonged.

By the time I glanced at the clock, it was past eleven.

Somehow, what was supposed to be a couple of awkward hours had turned into something else entirely—something easy. Something that felt suspiciously like belonging.

“Get used to late nights,” Lucy teased, nudging me with her elbow. “Being our friend means you have to be a night owl.”

Friends?

I wasn’t sure the last time I’d used it to describe myself. Maybe never.

Growing up, there wasn’t space for friends. Emily and my coaches made sure of that. My life had been structured and scheduled within an inch of its existence—early mornings, late nights, a constant push toward something bigger, something better. And at some point, I had started pulling away from people before they had the chance to do it first.

But Mina and Lucy? They weren’t waiting for me to prove anything. They weren’t measuring my worth by what I’d achieved.

They just saw me.

And that was almost scarier than being alone.

“So, Y/N,” Mina said, shattering the comfortable silence. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Big day,” I admitted, exhaustion creeping in. “My furniture’s arriving, plus all my stuff from Nevada. I need to grab groceries. Thought about picking out paint colors, but that might be too ambitious.”

Mina’s face lit up like I’d just invited her to an amusement park. “Need help? I’m free tomorrow. And I’m ridiculously efficient. We’ll knock it all out in no time.” She gestured toward my crutches with a cheeky grin. “Especially since you’re a little limited.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t used to accepting help. But Mina had this way of making it seem like it would be more work to say no.

“That would be great,” I admitted. “Thanks.”

Lucy shot me a knowing look from where she stood by the sink. “Just don’t let her bulldoze you. Once she gets going, she’s unstoppable. Your place will look like a West Elm catalog before you even blink.”

Mina gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m just trying to help her create a cozy space. Is that so wrong?”

“I’m just giving her fair warning,” Lucy said, eyes glinting. “You’re in for the full Mina experience.”

I yawned before I could stop myself. Mina noticed immediately.

“Go freshen up,” she said, waving me toward the bathroom. “I’ll set up the couch for you.”

I shuffled off, grateful for the moment alone. As I brushed my teeth and splashed cool water on my face, I felt the weight of the night settle in. When I returned, the couch had been transformed into a nest of blankets and pillows—so much cozier than the cold, empty apartment I’d left behind.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, sinking into my makeshift bed. “This is way better than crashing on a pile of sweatshirts.”

Lucy grinned as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I’ll swing by around four tomorrow, just in time to rescue you from Mina’s overzealous decorating spree.”

“I’ll need it,” I said, throwing Mina a smirk.

Mina gasped, deeply offended. “You’ll love every second of it. Actually, I’ll call the guys and see if they can help with the heavy lifting this weekend. They’ve got a game in Anaheim on Friday, but they should be free after that.”

“Game?” I asked, frowning.

Mina blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Jimin, Taehyung, and my other brother—they play for the Michigan Red Wings.”

The name rang a bell, but faintly. Like a half-remembered dream.

“Should I know what that means?”

Lucy smirked. “NHL, Y/N. They’re professional hockey players.”

“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. Hockey wasn’t really on my radar. The only time I even thought about it was when Emily complained about hockey players hogging ice time.

“We’ll have to take you to a game,” Mina said, already vibrating with excitement. “They’re mid-season, and the team’s so good right now.”

“Mina, you say that every year,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes.

Mina grinned. “Because every year, it’s true! Even if they weren’t good, it’s still fun. The speed, the energy…” She trailed off, lost in her own little hockey world.

I laughed, but something about all of this—this easy, effortless warmth—felt almost too good to be real. Like I’d borrowed someone else’s life for the night.

“Mina,” I said, nudging her. “You do realize two of those players are your brothers, right?”

She made a face. “Obviously, Y/N. I’m not checking them out. But let’s be real—they’re objectively attractive. And if you happen to take an interest, there’s plenty of other man candy on the team.”

Lucy chuckled. “She’s not wrong. Her brothers are hot. Not that I’m looking—Taehyung is more than enough—but Jungkook? Yeah, he’s got the looks.”

Jungkook.

The name hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Could it be my Jungkook? 

My brain raced back to the airport. The luggage, the easy smile, the way he had helped me like it was nothing. That Jungkook had just been… a random act of kindness. A nice stranger.

…Right?

I felt ridiculous for even thinking it. For even considering the possibility.

My Jungkook?

We’d spoken for maybe fifteen minutes, and I was already putting a claim on him. Maybe I was going crazy.

“He hasn’t dated anyone since he and Sky broke up last year,” Leera said casually, like she was commenting on the weather. “Kind of a waste. A guy like that shouldn’t stay single for long.”

Mina nodded, but there was something a little sharper in the set of her jaw. “Jungkook’s not the type to jump from girl to girl. He’s waiting for the right one, and when he finds her, he’ll know.”

Leera smirked. “Well, that’s not stopping half of Detroit. Pretty sure every girl in the city knows he’s single.”

Mina groaned, flopping back against the couch cushions. “Don’t even get me started on the rink rats. If I have to witness one more girl trying to sneak into the locker room, I might actually lose my mind.”

I laughed, sinking deeper into my pile of pillows. “Noted. I’ll make sure to stay on your good side.”

Mina pointed at me, all faux-seriousness. “Good call.” Then, with a sigh, she added, “I just hate it. Those girls don’t care about hockey—they don’t even like hockey. They just want the bragging rights.”

I nodded, watching the way her protectiveness settled over her like armor. She wasn’t just defending Jungkook. She was looking out for all of them. Her brothers, her family.

“Well,” I said, meaning it, “they’re lucky to have you watching their backs.”

Mina’s lips quirked up like she wanted to argue, but instead, she just said, “Goodnight, Y/N.” She was already halfway down the hall when she called over her shoulder, “Yell if you need anything.”

Leera lingered, watching me for a beat longer. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling, feeling the weight of the day settle over me in the best way. “Thanks again. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Don’t mention it.” Leera’s voice was soft, knowing. “I’m up early for work, so sorry if I wake you.”

I waved her off. “I’m used to early mornings.” Too many years of predawn practices had made sure of that.

Leera just nodded, still smiling, before disappearing down the hall.

I sank deeper into the blankets, warmth curling around me like a secret. My body felt heavy, like it had finally gotten permission to stop holding itself together. My eyes fluttered shut, and I didn’t even hear Leera’s door close.

That night, I dreamt of chocolate-brown eyes and tousled black hair.

I woke up the same way I had for the past eight weeks—with my knee throbbing like it had a personal vendetta against me.

I didn’t even have to open my eyes to know today was going to suck. The dull ache had settled in overnight, but now, thanks to yesterday’s cramped plane ride, it had sharpened into something meaner. I pulled my leg toward my chest, stretching carefully, trying to loosen the stiffness. Moving boxes and setting up furniture? Yeah, that was going to be so much fun. Looked like the painkillers would have to make an appearance.

After a few more stretches, the ache dulled to something that felt less like a knife and more like a bruise, and I finally cracked my eyes open. The room was still wrapped in that early-morning darkness, the kind that sits heavy over Michigan in the winter, refusing to budge. I reached for my phone. 5:48 A.M. The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the radiator trying—and failing—to make the place feel less like an icebox.

I wasn’t going back to sleep, but I also didn’t feel like getting up yet. So I stayed where I was, curled up on Mina’s obnoxiously comfortable couch, staring at the ceiling.

Yesterday came back in pieces. Mina and Leera. The unexpected invitation. And, of course, Jungkook.

Just thinking about him sent an embarrassing little jolt through me, which was so stupid. It wasn’t like I’d never seen an attractive guy before. But Jungkook wasn’t just attractive. He was the kind of good-looking that made you blink twice. The kind that made your brain short-circuit for a second while you tried to process if someone could actually look like that.

Okay. Fine. So he was hot. That didn’t mean anything. I’d talked to him for maybe fifteen minutes. That wasn’t life-changing. That wasn’t even significant.

Except… my body had noticed him in a way it never really noticed anyone. Heart pounding. Skin tingling. That stupid, unsteady feeling like I’d just stepped onto a rink without my skates tied properly. That was significant.

I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. It didn’t matter. Even if, by some ridiculous stretch of the imagination, Jungkook was interested, what would I even do about it? Relationships, dating, flirting—those were all foreign languages to me. My parents had been a masterclass in what not to do. My dad stayed, but only in the financial sense. And Emily? Her version of love came with conditions. Perform well, and you got a rare “good job.” Fail, and… well.

I didn’t know how to do affection. It had always felt awkward, like a sweater that didn’t quite fit. Hugs? Hand-holding? Kissing? Yeah, no. Just thinking about it made my pulse do something weird.

I needed to stop. My life wasn’t some tragic sob story. So my childhood had more training schedules than sleepovers—big deal. I had what I needed. Time to move on.

With a groan, I pushed myself upright, my knee protesting the movement. Enough self-pity. Caffeine. I needed caffeine.

The apartment was still dark and silent as I shuffled into the kitchen. I hesitated before opening any cabinets—rummaging through someone else’s stuff before sunrise felt like a weird level of intrusive—so I settled for finishing off the last of my soda from last night. The cold fizz helped a little, at least enough to push through the haze of sleep deprivation.

The microwave clock blinked 6:04 A.M. Mina didn’t seem like the early riser type. No point in waiting around. I could head back to my place, shower, stretch like the doctor said to, and get my life somewhat together.

By 8:30, I felt almost human again. The stretches had helped, the painkillers had kicked in, and I’d even managed to scribble out a to-do list. Groceries. Figuring out where my limited furniture should go. Maybe pretending I had any idea how to decorate an apartment.

Mina knocked just as I was finishing up, looking far too awake for this hour and shoving a cup of coffee into my hands like a peace offering. “Morning! Ready for some fun?”

I took the coffee, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

She grinned. “I’m an all-the-time person. You’ll get used to it. So, what’s the plan?”

“The furniture’s supposed to be here at nine.” I handed her my list. “After that, I figured we could set things up, then go grab the essentials.”

Mina scanned the list and nodded. “Super Target it is. We’ll knock this out fast.”

While we waited, she plopped onto the floor with a notebook and started sketching out a floor plan—like, a legitimate floor plan—complete with little boxes for furniture and arrows for “optimal flow.” She rattled on about color schemes and accent pieces like we were designing a magazine spread.

I just nodded along, knowing I was going to have to veto at least half of it. The eight matching throw pillows? Absolutely not.

When the movers showed up, Mina shifted into full drill-sergeant mode, directing the poor guys with a terrifying level of efficiency. The second they left, another truck pulled up with my boxes from Nevada.

For once, something in my life was actually going smoothly.

Mina eyed my stack of boxes like she was waiting for the rest of them to show up.

“That’s it?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yep. I travel light.”

She frowned, like the concept physically pained her. “Y/N, half of these are labeled Books. How do you not have more stuff?”

I shrugged. “Less stuff, less hassle.”

Mina let out the kind of sigh that people reserved for lost causes. “Minimalist doesn’t even begin to cover it. Taehyung’s old dorm room had more personality than this place.”

I smirked. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. But let’s focus on getting toilet paper first before we start worrying about ‘spicing up’ my apartment.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “But we will revisit this. I’m not letting you live in a place that looks like a bachelor pad.”

“You’ve known me for fifteen hours,” I pointed out.

“And just imagine what it’ll be like in a couple of weeks,” she grinned wickedly. “I won’t hold back then.”

“This is you holding back?” I teased. “You’re kind of terrifying.”

“In the best way,” she said, completely unfazed. “Now, ready to hit the store?”

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my list. “But I don’t have my car yet—it’s still at the dealership.”

“Good thing I’m your chauffeur for the day!” she declared, already heading for the door with the kind of enthusiasm that made me feel like I was being drafted into something. I sighed, but I couldn’t help smiling as I followed her. Life with Mina, I was quickly learning, was never going to be boring.

“No worries,” she added, whipping out her phone with the speed of someone who always had a plan. “I’ll call Jimin and see if we can borrow his truck.”

A quick call later, we were off—Mina behind the wheel of her bright yellow Porsche, driving like she had a personal vendetta against speed limits. The engine roared as she weaved in and out of traffic with terrifying precision. I gripped the door handle, silently promising to live a better life if we made it out of this drive alive.

By the time we pulled up to Jimin’s place—miraculously in one piece—I had officially retired from being a passenger in Mina’s car. We swapped vehicles, and before I knew it, we were barrelling down the road in Jimin’s truck, off to tackle what would soon become the longest shopping trip of my life.

Two hours later, I had come to two conclusions:

One—I would never, under any circumstances, voluntarily shop with Mina again.

Two—I actually liked her. A lot.

She was everything I wasn’t—loud where I was quiet, confident where I hesitated, effortlessly stylish while I stuck to jeans and sneakers. And yet, somehow, she just clicked with me. Maybe it was her relentless energy, or maybe it was because she bulldozed past the walls I hadn’t even realized I’d built.

As we wheeled our overloaded carts to the truck, I glanced at my phone. Just past noon, and I was already exhausted.

“I’m telling you, Y/N,” Mina said, tossing bags into the truck bed like she was throwing confetti, “those shirts were a necessity. When you find one that looks that good, you have to buy it in every color.”

I smirked, shaking my head. Somewhere between arguing over which brand of dish soap smelled less like a hospital and Mina sneakily adding things to the cart, I had realized something horrifying.

Mina could talk me into just about anything.

And there it was—three identical Converse button-ups in different colors. Cute? Yes. Necessary? Not even a little.

“I’m not sure how you did it,” I said, giving her a sideways look, “but somehow, you got me to buy three of the same shirt. You’re dangerous.”

Mina grinned, completely unapologetic. “You’ll thank me later when you’re rocking those shirts.”

I sighed, shaking my head in mock defeat. “Fine. The shirts are cute. But can we find food now? The gimp needs to recharge.”

Mina laughed, slamming the tailgate shut. “How do you feel about Korean? There’s a great place on the way back.”

“Perfect,” I said, already dreaming about a meal that didn’t involve protein bars or sad, airport vending machine snacks.

On the drive back, Mina launched into a full-on campaign about how we needed to recruit Jimin to help paint my apartment. She was convinced the walls needed a fresh coat before anything else could happen.

I argued. She countered. I pouted.

She finally caved. Victory.

For now.

Once we got back, we hauled everything inside, dumping the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter in a completely unorganized mess. We shoved the cold stuff into the fridge in a way that would probably horrify any reasonable adult, then collapsed onto the couch with greasy containers of food.

As I hobbled over with my takeout, my crutches snagged on the coffee table, making me stumble.

Not once.

Not twice.

Three times.

Each time, Mina gave me a look that was somewhere between amused and mildly concerned.

“You okay there, Y/N?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed dramatically. “I am so ready to be done with these crutches.”

Navigating life on two feet was hard enough. With crutches? It was like trying to cross a balance beam in roller skates. The countdown to my next doctor’s appointment was on.

After lunch, Mina got lost in a wedding magazine she’d picked up from the mail, which left me with a rare moment of peace. I stretched out on the couch, my mind finally allowed to wander.

And, of course, it wandered right back to him.

Jungkook.

I didn’t know much about him—barely more than his first name—and yet here I was, thinking about him like a teenager with a crush. Which was ridiculous. But also undeniable.

He was absurdly good-looking. The kind of guy you noticed in a room. And for some reason, I couldn’t shake him.

Bronx. Tuesday nights. Five days from now.

Could I actually work up the nerve to go?

Part of me wanted to. Just to see him again. To feel that weird, electric thing that had sparked between us at the airport.

But another part of me—the part that had spent years keeping people at a safe distance—was already coming up with excuses.

Maybe he was just being nice.

Maybe Bronx was just a casual recommendation, not an invitation.

But then why mention Tuesday?

The uncertainty gnawed at me.

I sighed, half-wishing life was as simple as those old country songs—Do you like me? Check yes or no.

But it wasn’t that easy, was it?

Before I could spiral any further into my overthinking, Mina’s phone went off—a series of high-pitched squeals that could only mean one thing: bridal emergency.

She groaned, already getting to her feet, phone pressed to her ear before she was even fully upright. “Promise me you won’t touch anything while I’m gone,” she said, pointing at me like I was the kind of person who might start unpacking just to be difficult. “Lucy and I will help you sort everything later.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Satisfied, she turned on her heel and disappeared out the door, already deep in crisis management mode.

For once, I didn’t fight it. I wasn’t about to wrestle with the mountain of bags and boxes on my own. Instead, I let myself sink deeper into the couch, the cushions swallowing me whole. I popped in my earbuds and let my iPod shuffle through songs, the familiar hum of music settling over me like a blanket.

And before I knew it, I was out.

I managed to avoid Mina for two whole days, using jet lag and my aching knee as perfect excuses to dodge any heavy lifting. But, of course, Saturday morning came, and so did she—armed with coffee, muffins, and an all-important battle plan. Today, she declared, was Divine Design Day, and reinforcements were on their way. Jimin and Taehyung were due to arrive at 10:00 AM sharp to help paint and set up the loft. I groaned inwardly at the thought of another long day of projects, but I couldn’t help but feel a little curious about the guys Mina and Lucy had been raving about.

Apparently, Mina had tried to recruit her brother Jungkook too, but he was busy spending the day with the team doctor after taking a nasty hit during last night’s game. I’d heard Mina and Lucy screaming from across the hall—wild cheers when the game went well, furious shouts when the refs blew a call. They’d invited me to watch, but I’d opted for a quiet evening with a book instead. After hearing their passionate recap, though, I made a mental note to join them next time. It sounded like it was quite the spectacle.

“Let’s move it, Y/N,” Mina clapped her hands, already pushing me toward the door. “We need to hit Home Depot for paint before the guys crawl out of bed.”

I dragged myself along, grumbling as I grabbed my coat, purse, and crutches. “Isn’t Lucy coming with us?”

“She threatened to spike my coffee if I woke her before nine,” Mina laughed. “She’ll catch up when we get back.”

“Just don’t go overboard, okay? I don’t need my apartment looking like it belongs on the cover of Better Homes & Gardens.”

“You’re no fun,” Mina pouted, but then a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Okay, fine, how about this: you get veto power, but I promise you won’t need it.”

“Deal,” I sighed, knowing full well this was as good as it was going to get.

We took Lucy’s BMW since it had more trunk space than Mina’s Porsche—which, considering how much Mina shopped, made me wonder why she even owned a sports car in the first place. As I buckled in, I was reminded that I still hadn’t picked up my own car from the dealership.

“You know, I really should get my car sometime,” I muttered as I adjusted my seatbelt.

“Not a chance,” Mina scoffed. “You’re not driving anywhere with those crutches.”

“Well, I’m hoping to be rid of them after my appointment on Monday. I’ve got a new doctor, Dr. Jeon.”

Mina’s eyes lit up. “Dr. Jeon? That’s my dad! I can’t believe I didn’t mention my last name was Jeon.”

“Small world,” I muttered, still processing. “So, your dad’s my new doctor?”

“Yep! And trust me, you’re in the best hands. He’s patched up half the hockey players in Michigan.”

Home Depot was its usual chaos, but Mina, ever the drill sergeant of design, had the entire trip organized to perfection. Armed with measurements, color swatches, and detailed diagrams, she had us in and out in under an hour. The fact that she could pull that off while also looking like she belonged in a magazine made me half-wonder if she secretly had superpowers.

For the first time that morning, I felt a spark of excitement—seeing my empty, bare-walled loft finally coming to life didn’t seem so bad after all.

When we pulled up to the building, Jimin’s truck and a rugged-looking Jeep were already parked out front.

“Right on time,” Mina said, grabbing her phone. “I’ll call the guys and have them unload everything. And don’t even think about protesting, Y/N.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender.

“No, but I know you hate asking for help,” Mina added sweetly, though there was no arguing with her tone. “Too bad. You’re not lifting a finger today.”

“Mina, your dad’s my doctor, not you,” I teased, but she just stuck her tongue out at me while dialing.

“We’re outside—come unload,” she barked into the phone, then slipped it back into her purse with a satisfied grin.

Within minutes, Lucy appeared with two guys in tow. One of them was immediately tackled by Mina, who launched herself at him like a human cannonball. He caught her with ease, laughing as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

The other guy—who I assumed was Taehyung—had his arm casually draped around Lucy’s shoulders and looked like he could bench-press a truck. He was huge, his broad chest stretching the fabric of his jacket, but there was this boyish grin that somehow made him less intimidating. His dark hair was cut close, and his deep brown eyes twinkled with a playful, mischievous glint.

Lucy led him over to me, and Taehyung sized me up with a cheeky smirk. “So, you’re the fresh meat, huh?”

“That’s me,” I replied with a laugh. “Straight off the butcher block.”

“I like this one,” he said to Lucy, ruffling her hair. “She’s got sass. Can we keep her?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Lucy shot back, shoving him playfully.

Taehyung glanced at my crutches. “What’s with the wingmen?”

“Huh?”

“The crutches,” he clarified, grinning. “Your wingmen.”

“Oh, right. Sports injury.”

“A player, huh?” His grin widened, teasing me.

“Not exactly,” I said, laughing.

“I dunno, Lou,” he said to Lucy, “I don’t think she’ll keep up with us.”

“Keep it up, Tae,” Lucy teased, nudging him, “or I might dump you for her.”

“Eh, Jimin can do the heavy lifting. I’ll just carry the cripple,” Taehyung said with a wicked grin, and before I could protest, he scooped me up like I was weightless. A startled yelp escaped me as my crutches clattered to the sidewalk. And just like that, I was cradled in his arms like a rag doll.

“Taehyung!” Mina shouted, pulling herself away from Jimin to storm over. “She’s injured! You can’t just throw her around like that.”

“She’s tiny, almost as small as you,” Taehyung laughed, totally unbothered. “Besides, if she’s sticking around, she’s gotta get used to a little manhandling.”

“She won’t be sticking around if you scare her off by treating her like a sack of potatoes,” Mina snapped, hands on her hips.

Taehyung just grinned and looked down at me. “You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

Still processing the fact that I was four feet off the ground in the arms of a complete stranger, I blinked, and to my surprise, I nodded. “Uh, sure, Taehyung,” I muttered, feeling oddly at ease despite the absurdity of the situation. His energy, his laugh, the warmth in his eyes—it was impossible to feel uncomfortable around him.

“See? Y/N’s my homegirl now,” Taehyung said with a triumphant grin, like he’d just won an award for best human being.

“Oh, you know it, G,” Lucy chimed in, laughing like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Chim, come meet my new best friend!” Taehyung called over his shoulder, still holding me like it was the most natural thing in the world—like this wasn’t a situation where I probably should have been, I don’t know, walking?

Jimin, who had been watching the whole circus unfold with a quiet, amused smile, finally made his way over. He extended his hand, his voice as soft and melodic as the warm look in his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he said, each word carrying a kind of gentleness that made it impossible not to like him instantly.

Still awkwardly perched on Taehyung’s back, I reached out to shake his hand, the usual wave of discomfort that came with meeting new people creeping up. But something about Jimin’s calm presence, those kind eyes of his, made it easier than I expected. “Don’t worry,” he added with a knowing grin, “you’ll get used to this bunch of lunatics.”

I let out a small laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little. “I’m starting to think you’re right.”

“Alright, enough with the pleasantries!” Mina’s voice cut through, sharp and loud, as always. She clapped her hands with military precision. “We didn’t drag you guys here for social hour. Time to work!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimin said, snapping a playful salute before heading over to the trunk to start unloading supplies.

I wriggled a bit on Taehyung’s back, trying to find a way down. “Okay, Taehyung, time to put me down.”

“Nope,” he replied, patting my leg like it was a done deal. “I told you, I’m carrying you in.”

“I can walk, you know,” I protested, feeling the need to remind him that I still had two fully-functioning legs, even if they weren’t exactly in peak condition. “And Jimin could probably use your help.”

“Jimin’s got it covered,” Taehyung said nonchalantly, grabbing a bag of paint supplies with one hand while still managing to hold me securely on his back with the other. “Lucy, grab her crutches—aka Goose and Maverick.”

“Goose and Maverick?” I raised an eyebrow, thoroughly confused.

“Your wingmen,” Taehyung explained with utmost seriousness, like I was supposed to get this. “You can’t fly without them.”

“You’re ridiculous, Taehyung.”

“I know,” he replied with a wide, disarming grin. “That’s what makes me so lovable.”

And with that, he hauled us both inside, with Jimin, Mina, and Lucy following behind, their arms loaded with paint cans and brushes.

By the time we made it up to my apartment, I’d stopped trying to escape Taehyung’s “manhandling.” It was clear this “Divine Design Day” was more like a crazy, fun-filled bootcamp than your typical painting party. But weirdly, I didn’t mind. Between the laughter, the constant banter, and the easy camaraderie, I realized something—I was smiling more than I had in a long time. The tension I’d carried around for months, maybe even years, seemed to melt away with every joke and every shared moment of laughter.

As the day went on, I noticed something else: this wasn’t just about painting or setting up furniture. This was their way of pulling me into their world, a world that felt warm and open in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. By lunchtime, I had Taehyung laughing so hard he nearly dropped his paint roller, and I felt myself slipping back into sarcasm, something I hadn’t felt comfortable doing in a while.

Lucy, Taehyung, and Jimin worked seamlessly together, taping off the walls and laying down tarps while Mina orchestrated the whole operation like a general overseeing her troops. At first, I tried to stay out of their way, but before long, I found myself pulled into the action—sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by paint splatters, as they worked around me. It felt oddly comforting, this strange, unexpected bond forming around me.

By late afternoon, the loft had transformed. We’d painted two rooms and were almost done with a third. The place was beginning to feel like an actual home, a place I could settle into. The thought of unpacking didn’t feel as overwhelming anymore, so I decided to start with something familiar: my books.

Jimin carried the three boxes over like they weighed nothing, flashing me a smile before heading back to help Taehyung with the last of the painting. I opened the first box, and immediately, nostalgia hit me like a wave. Books had always been my safe haven. The feel of the pages, the scent of old paper—it was like stepping back into a world where everything made sense. As I started stacking them by genre and alphabetically, a sense of calm washed over me.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mina’s voice called out from the living room, interrupting my quiet moment. “Do you want us to start unpacking these other boxes? The paint’s dry enough now.”

“Yeah, sure,” I called back, not thinking much of it. “There shouldn’t be much in them.”

Mina’s voice got closer as she poked around. “One’s labeled ‘Miscellaneous,’ and the other doesn’t have anything written on it.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” I said, frowning slightly. “I thought I labeled everything.”

“Well, want me to open the mystery box?” Mina asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Go for it,” I said, feeling a small tug of curiosity myself. What could it be?

I heard the familiar sound of tape being ripped open, followed by Mina’s high-pitched squeal that could probably be heard by the neighbors. It echoed through the loft, loud enough to make me jump.

“Geez, Mina,” I muttered, stacking another book on the shelf. “Are you trying to summon every dog in the city?”

“Y/N!” Mina’s voice was filled with barely-contained excitement. When she popped her head around the half-wall, her eyes were wide with mischief, the kind of look that usually meant trouble.

“What is it, Mina?” I asked, wary.

She strutted over, something in her hands, her face lit with that mischievous gleam. And then, she held it up.

It was the plaque. That plaque. The one my mom had made after the 2020 Olympics, with “Olympic Silver Medalist” gleaming beneath my name. My stomach dropped, like someone had yanked the floor out from under me.

Shit.

Everything inside me screamed to grab it, shove it back in the box, pretend I’d never seen it. But I was frozen, staring at that plaque like it had just upended everything I was trying to build here. There it was, in all its shiny, unapologetic glory—my past, casually standing right in the middle of my future like it belonged. Like it had every right to.

“Care to explain why you never mentioned this?” Mina teased, her grin stretching wide like she had just found the golden ticket.

I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face. Of course, of course this would come up now. I wasn’t ready for this conversation—not now, not ever. “Where did you even find that?”

“In the unmarked box,” she said, like that was all the explanation needed.

Of course. The unmarked box. Thanks, Emily, I thought, bitterly. Of all the things my mother could’ve sent, this had to make the trip.

Mina was looking at me like she was a detective who’d just cracked the case. Her eyes were practically burning holes through me, waiting for me to spill the beans. I sighed, knowing I couldn’t avoid it. “Was there anything else in there?” I asked, stalling, even though I already knew exactly what else was hiding in that box.

“Oh, plenty,” she replied, clearly loving this. “Or should I say... Y/N Y/L/N, Olympic Silver Medalist and National Champion Figure Skater? Care to explain why this little tidbit never came up in conversation?”

Her words hung there between us, playful but pointed, and I sighed again. Mina wasn’t mad, not at all. She was just amused—like she’d just uncovered some secret Easter egg in a movie she wasn’t expecting.

“Okay, yeah,” I muttered, feeling the flush creep up my neck. “You got me. I was going to tell you eventually, I just... didn’t want it to be a thing, you know?” I looked down at my hands, fidgeting with the spine of a book. “It’s not like I’m ashamed of it. I just... liked that you didn’t know. It was easier that way. I could just be Y/N, without all the... assumptions or whatever.”

Mina’s face softened, and she lowered the plaque with a quiet chuckle. “I get it, Y/N. Honestly, I do. And for what it’s worth, it doesn’t change anything. Lucy and I? We’re still the same girls who’ve been feeding you pizza and hauling in your groceries.” She gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “And trust me, Jimin and Taehyung? They’re probably the last people on earth who care about figure skating. No crazed fans here.”

Relief flooded through me, but a little bit of that lingering embarrassment stayed in the back of my mind. “Thanks,” I said, my voice quiet. “I’m sorry for not saying something earlier. It just... it felt good to be normal for a while.”

Mina grinned, nudging me with her shoulder. “Normal’s overrated. And you didn’t lie—you just... omitted a few sparkly details.”

I laughed, feeling the tension start to melt. We made our way back to the box. Inside, it wasn’t just the plaque—there were old photos, magazines, medals, and even some of my old costumes, glittering with sequins. It was like a time capsule from a life I thought I’d left behind, packed up meticulously and sent across the country by Emily, my ever-persistent mother.

Pinned to one of the costumes was a note in her unmistakable handwriting: Just in case.

“Subtle, Emily,” I muttered, tossing the costume back into the box.

“Who’s Emily?” Mina asked, plopping down beside me on the floor.

“My mom,” I replied, letting out a long sigh.

Mina nodded, picking up one of the magazines with my face plastered on the cover. She turned it over in her hands like she was still trying to process it. “So... I’m guessing you didn’t pack all this yourself?”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I left all my skating stuff back in Vegas. But Emily—she has her own ideas about what’s best. She thought I might need a little ‘reminder’ of my accomplishments.”

“Or a lot of reminders,” Mina said, holding up another sparkly costume, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

I snatched the costume from her, laughing despite myself. “Well, I didn’t exactly want all of this here. I’m not sure if I’ll ever skate again, so I didn’t feel like living in sequins and medals every day, you know?”

Mina’s grin faded a little, and she placed her hand on my knee, her touch gentle. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to push away the heaviness creeping into my chest. “I’m dealing with it. I just... didn’t think I’d need all this while I’m... figuring things out.”

We sat there in a quiet, heavy silence, surrounded by the ghosts of my past life that refused to stay buried. I glanced down at the shimmering fabric in my lap, running my fingers over the beads, feeling too familiar, too close to everything I was trying to leave behind.

“And that’s exactly why she sent it all,” I added, offering a bitter smile. “In Emily’s world, this injury is just me being dramatic. I should be back on the ice by now, training for my next competition.”

“That’s insane,” Mina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Doesn’t she know what’s going on with your knee?”

“Emily only hears what she wants to hear,” I half-laughed, half-sighed. “But don’t worry. She can’t push me into anything anymore. I’m in control now.”

“Well, whatever you need, we’re here for you, Y/N,” Mina said softly, her words warm and solid. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

I smiled, a warmth spreading through my chest that chased away some of the darkness. “Thanks, Mina. I know I’m not great at all this emotional stuff, but... I’m really glad I met you. It’s been a long time since I had real friends.”

Mina beamed, knocking her knee against mine. “Best friends, Y/N. Not just regular friends.”

I nudged her back, laughing, my heart feeling a little lighter. “Yeah, best friends.”

We sat there, sprawled out on the floor, amidst the remnants of my past life—photos, costumes, memories of who I used to be. And for the first time in a long time, the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy. And, for once, I didn’t mind the mess.

"Hey, lazy bums!" Lucy’s voice rang out from the bedroom where she’d been helping Jimin and Taehyung tape off the last wall for painting. "Are you two just gonna lounge around while we do all the work?"

"Yep, that was the plan," Mina said, not missing a beat.

"Sounds good to me," I chimed in, grinning.

Lucy appeared in the doorway, her grin already in place as she plopped down next to us on the floor like she had nowhere better to be. "Well, if you’re gonna be lazy, I might as well join you."

Mina shot me a sly look and turned to Lucy. "So, Lucy," she drawled, dragging out the words, "did you know that Y/N here is a big-time figure skater?"

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up for a second before she shrugged like it was no big deal. "No shit? I knew your name sounded familiar," she said, totally unfazed. "That’s pretty cool."

Mina gave me a look that clearly said See? No big deal, and I tried not to laugh at how casually Lucy took it.

"You know, Y/N," Lucy said, leaning back on her elbows, "you kinda kick ass out there."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, Lucy."

"Seriously," Mina added, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. "The things you can do with your legs... If I were that flexible, Jimin wouldn’t let me out of the bedroom for days!"

I giggled and shook my head. "Please, Mina, you’re giving me way too much credit."

Lucy grinned, mimicking Mina’s pose. "She’s got a point, Y/N. All that flexibility? Total game-changer in the bedroom. Think of the positions you could get into."

"Wow, thanks for the confidence boost, Lucy," I joked, feeling my face heat up. "Glad to know I’ve got you all worked up."

"Not me, you dork," Lucy said, with an exaggerated eye roll. "Guys. You know, the ones who actually matter in this scenario."

"Well, I wouldn’t really know," I said, trying to keep my tone light, though my chest was tightening a little. "But hey, good to know I’ve got options. Stripper? Kama Sutra demonstrator? Naked contortionist?"

Mina suddenly sat up, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Wait a second," she said, her voice suddenly full of disbelief. "Wouldn’t know? Y/N, are you... a virgin?" she asked, as if I had just confessed to being a secret agent.

Heat surged to my cheeks, and before I could even think about how to respond, I shot up like I had just been caught doing something illegal. "Okay, I think that’s enough prying into my personal life for one day," I called over my shoulder, trying—and failing—to sound casual. Embarrassment crawled up my neck like wildfire. "Let’s save the deep dives for when we’re knee-deep in a tub of Ben & Jerry’s at some inevitable sleepover. Pillow fights optional."

"Oh no, Y/N," Mina’s voice rang out behind me, dripping with playful menace. "We’re your best friends now—there’s no such thing as ‘enough prying.’" She paused dramatically, and I could practically hear her smirking. "But fine, keep your little secrets for now. Just know that Lucy and I are official Y/N Y/L/N spelunkers. No secret is too deep, no skeleton too buried. We’ll dig it all up eventually."

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I rifled through the fridge, pretending to look for something—anything—that would change the subject. The truth was, with Mina and Lucy around, there was no way in hell my past was going to stay hidden for long. They were relentless, the kind of friends who didn’t just scratch the surface. They dug. They prodded. They excavated until they hit bedrock. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Monday morning, I woke up before dawn, as usual. But instead of jumping out of bed and rushing straight for the coffee maker, I stayed under the soft feather pillows that Mina had insisted would help me sleep better. I wasn’t sure they had, but for the first time in a while, it felt easier to just stay there, letting the weight of the day press down on me slowly, like a shadow growing across the room.

Today was the day my path would be decided. I might have been being melodramatic, but it was hard not to be when the appointment felt like the turning point. The moment I’d have to choose which way to go. I’d been stalled at this fork for too long. It was time to pick a direction, any direction.

A lot of that decision would depend on the new doctor. Dr. Banerjee back in Vegas hadn’t been hopeful. He practically told me not to get my hopes up. Would Dr. Jeon say the same? Emily had made it clear she thought I was just milking the injury, playing the drama queen. And sometimes, I wondered if she was right. Was I just dragging this out? My knee still throbbed when I pushed it too hard, but maybe I was just being weak. Maybe I needed to toughen up, ignore the pain, and push through.

Enough lying in bed. The answer would come soon enough.

I climbed out of bed and started my usual morning stretches, paying close attention to how my knee felt. The lack of soreness gave me a little spark of hope. My flexibility was still there, too—thankfully, I hadn’t lost that during the months of inactivity. That was what had made me stand out on the ice, those long, graceful spiral sequences. If I could still do them, maybe I could skate again. And if I could skate again, I’d need to get back to my Pilates routine, pronto. The longer I waited, the harder it would be to regain the strength and flexibility I’d need.

But for now, all I could do was stretch and hope. The future could wait a little longer.

The truth was, I missed the rush that exercise always gave me. The kind of energy that made my limbs feel electric, the burn that felt almost like a reward. Sitting around, doing nothing, had turned out to be more suffocating than I’d imagined. The first week after surgery had been kind of a relief—like a forced break from the rigid schedule that had ruled my life for so long. I had sprawled out on the couch, devoured three Jane Austen novels in a row, only stopping for food, bathroom breaks, and the occasional nap. It was pure bliss.

But then... the days started to blur. By mid-December, boredom had sunk its teeth in, and I could feel it gnawing at me. Emily, of course, decided I needed a “push.” So, she dragged me back to the rink to “knock some sense into me,” as she put it. The rehab exercises Dr. Banerjee prescribed weren’t enough for her. She complained that it was all taking too long, and after one mortifying demonstration where she shoved me out onto the ice and I immediately fell flat on my ass, she finally stopped insisting I skate.

That didn’t mean she backed off, though. Oh no. She still had me show up every day to “consult” with Yoongi, my coach, about what came next. But it only made me feel trapped. Like a prisoner pacing in the perimeter of a shrinking cell. That was when I started thinking about leaving. With Emily always there, it was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear myself over the sound of her voice barking orders and issuing demands. If my career was over, I needed space to figure out what came next, and staying in Vegas wasn’t going to give me that.

Dr. Banerjee had mentioned a few specialists in Michigan who had experience with my kind of injury. As soon as he said it, I latched onto the idea of moving back. The doctors would satisfy Emily’s need for reassurance, and the distance would give me the space to breathe, to be. She didn’t like it at first—said it was a waste of time, of resources—but when she saw I wasn’t backing down, she caved. Not without conditions, of course.

She found the apartment, bought the car, booked the doctor’s appointments, arranged the flights. The only thing I cared about was leaving as soon as possible. So, I did. I boarded a plane, said goodbye to the warmth of Nevada, and didn’t look back.

And here I was now. Sitting at the edge of a decision. Despite the tight knot of anxiety in my stomach, I had to admit, moving back was starting to feel like the right choice. There was something about Michigan that felt more like home than anywhere I’d been in years. It wasn’t just the cold air or the city’s winding streets; it was something deeper, something about being away from the noise of expectations, the pressure to constantly prove myself. Here, I could just be Y/N, and for the first time in a long while, that didn’t feel like a hollow title.

I went through the motions of getting ready—showering, drying my hair, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I wasn’t sure if the routine was helping calm my nerves or just delaying the inevitable. I ate a lemon poppy seed muffin, wiped the crumbs off the counter, and tried to ignore the tension creeping up my shoulders. My mind kept drifting back to the appointment. What would Dr. Jeon say? Was I still Y/N Y/L/N, competitive skater? Or was I about to become someone else entirely?

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. Mina’s voice floated in, cheerful as ever. “Morning!” she called out as she let herself in. I’d given her a spare key yesterday—mostly because she insisted, and I hadn’t come up with a good reason not to.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt, as she waltzed into the kitchen, all bright-eyed and grinning.

“Happy Lose-the-Crutches Day!” she proclaimed with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“You’re weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you’re not excited to ditch your flyboys.” She shot a glance at the crutches leaning against the wall. “Maybe with fewer appendages to trip over, you’ll stop bumping into things so much.”

“Doubt it,” I replied, holding back a smile. “I’ve always been a klutz. Kind of ironic, don’t you think? Champion figure skater who trips over air.”

“Not ironic,” Mina said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “You were born to be on the ice. That’s all.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, a little skeptical. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” she said, her tone sincere, her eyes steady. It made me pause. “I’ve seen you skate, Y/N. It’s like watching something otherworldly.”

I’d heard words like that before—usually from articles or fans—but hearing it from Mina, with that quiet belief in her eyes, felt different. It felt like maybe I could believe it too, if I let myself.

I cleared my throat, avoiding her gaze. “Thanks, Mina.”

She grinned, brightening up. “Come on, babe. Let’s get going. Grab Goose and Maverick and let’s jet.”

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous names she’d given my crutches but grabbed them anyway. The sooner this was over, the sooner I’d know what came next. Mina and I headed out, slipping into her car as she cranked the heat.

“Thanks for chauffeuring me,” I said, trying to make light of the anxiety gnawing at me.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” she laughed. “I’m happy to do it. Besides, it gives me an excuse to pop in and see Dad. Makes me look like the ‘good child.’”

“I have a feeling you don’t need much help keeping that title.”

“True,” she said, her voice filled with fondness. “But I like stopping by the hospital now and then. It’s funny how different we all are—my brothers and me—but we’ve always been close. Taehyung’s a tank on the ice, and Jungkook’s fast as hell, but they’ve always looked out for me. And growing up with them... well, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice handling troublemakers.”

"How did they end up playing on the same team, anyway? Doesn’t that kind of thing usually not happen?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the knot tightening in my chest.

“It doesn’t,” she admitted. “Taehyung wasn’t a big name in the draft picks. Being a hometown boy helped, but once the Red Wings saw him play, they knew they had a hidden gem. Then Jungkook came up the next year. Having Taehyung already on the team definitely helped his chances. Plus, it’s good PR—two hometown brothers in the NHL.”

“Guess I’ll have to learn a little more about hockey,” I said, offering a half-smile.

“Y/N, trust me. You’re in Michigan now. It’s practically a requirement.” She winked at me as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. The knot of anxiety tightened in my chest again, but it didn’t feel the same. The difference now was, for the first time, I felt like I had a little more control over where I went from here—even if I had no idea what the next steps would look like.

The uncertainty was still there, but it didn’t feel like a shadow I had to run from. For now, it was just another stretch of ice I’d have to navigate. And if I stumbled a bit along the way, well, I could live with that.

“That’s pretty cool,” I said, and Mina’s face lit up, her voice picking up speed as she launched into more stories about her brothers and their love for hockey.

“Yeah, they’re living the dream. Mom and Dad were all in on their decision to go pro. A lot of the hockey parents we knew were pulling their kids out, saying they should focus on school or get 'real' jobs. But my parents never did that. They always cared more about us finding something we loved, not just something practical.”

As she kept talking, sharing memories of their childhood, I could practically feel the warmth of the Jeon family’s bond. It was one of those things you could almost touch, the kind of closeness that felt familiar and distant all at once. Taehyung, I learned, was adopted. His birth mother had been Mina's aunt—Yuri's sister—who’d passed away when he was a baby. The Jeons had taken him in, raised him as their own, and made him the oldest son.

There was something comforting in the way Mina talked about them. It was like hearing about a life I’d never had but always kind of wished I could. A life where family wasn’t just a word, but a real, tangible thing.

We pulled into the parking lot of St. Joseph’s, and I felt the weight of it settle over me. Signing in at the front desk felt like signing away the last of my denial. And when the nurse called my name five minutes later, the nerves hit, deep and clawing at my chest.

In the exam room, everything smelled like antiseptic, cold and sterile, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones from the linoleum floors. The nurse did her usual routine—height, weight, blood pressure—and then left us alone. Mina sat in a chair next to the exam table, and I perched on the edge, my hands folded together so tightly that my knuckles were almost white.

It was ridiculous how fast my pulse was racing. I’d been through so much worse before—competitions where the world was watching, where one slip-up could cost everything. But this... this was different. This was my future, maybe even who I was, dangling on a thread. Figure skating didn’t give you time to waste. I always thought I had more. Now it felt like the curtain was coming down, and I was stuck in the dark.

My foot started tapping a nervous rhythm against the cabinet. I bit my lip hard enough that it almost hurt. Mina leaned over and gently placed a hand on my foot, stilling it.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I nodded, but it felt like a lie.

Before I could say anything, the door swung open, and in walked a man I assumed was Dr. Jeon. If this was Mina’s dad, then he was definitely proof that some people aged like fine wine. He had salt-and-pepper hair slicked back in a way that looked effortless but somehow stylish. His brown eyes were warm but sharp, taking in the room with a kind of calm authority that made me wonder if Michigan doctors all looked like movie stars instead of regular people.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” he asked, his voice shifting from professional to something warmer as his gaze landed on Mina. “Oh hey der, Mina! Didn’t see ya there!”

I almost snorted. Did he seriously just say ‘hey der’? I felt like I’d stepped into a Michigan stereotype, except, instead of flannel-wearing folks talking about fishing, everyone here looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine.

Mina jumped up to give him a hug, and the bond between them was clear. The way his arm slid around her shoulders, the way she grinned so wide her eyes sparkled as she introduced me.

“Y/N’s my new neighbor! Thought I’d bring her by to say hi,” she said, practically bouncing.

“Well, that’s just great! Hope she hasn’t been driving you too nuts already,” Dr. Jeon said, the playful gleam in his eyes making me smile, even though my nerves were still jittering.

“No, Mina’s been great, Dr. Jeon,” I said, but my voice came out a little tighter than I wanted.

“Please, call me Suho,” he said with a grin. “Any friend of Mina’s is a friend of mine. And if you’re hanging out with her, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Mina interrupted, her eyes suddenly wide with mischief. “Are you and Mom going to the game on Friday?”

“You betcha! Wouldn’t miss it.”

Mina turned to me, practically glowing. “Y/N, do you want to come to the Red Wings game with us? Lucy and I are going, and we always meet up with the guys afterward. It’s a blast! Please say you’ll go?”

“Mina, you’re pulling out the puppy lip,” I warned, though I felt my resolve weakening.

“I know! It works every time. Come on, please?”

I sighed, feeling the last of my resistance crumble. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yesss!” she cheered, her excitement contagious. “This is going to be so awesome. Oh, and can I pick out your outfit?”

“Alright, Mina,” Suho interrupted with a chuckle. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need to actually, you know, consult with my patient here.”

“Oops, right,” Mina said, sheepishly. “I’ll be in the waiting room. See you Friday, Dad!” She kissed his cheek before bouncing out of the room, leaving behind a silence that felt almost too loud.

“She’s always been like that?” I asked, half-amused, half in disbelief.

Suho chuckled, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yah, she’s always been a bit of a firecracker. But she means well. Now, let’s take a look at that knee, shall we?”

The fluttering in my stomach kicked up again as he flipped open a manila folder. “Your doctor in Nevada sent over your records,” he said, drawing out the ‘a’ in Nevada in a way that made me bite back a smile. He caught my look and grinned. “What’s the matter? My Michigan accent getting to ya?”

I let out a breathy laugh, the tension starting to ease. “Sorry, I’m still readjusting. It’s been a while since I’ve lived here.”

He leaned in like he was about to share a secret. “Oh, don’tcha worry. We’ll have ya speakin’ like a northerner again in no time, ya betcha.”

The exaggerated drawl pulled a groan out of me, but it was hard to stay tense with him grinning like that. The atmosphere in the room felt lighter, easier to breathe in. Maybe it wasn’t just the change of scenery that would help me adjust. Maybe it was moments like this.

“Alright, let’s get down to business,” he said, flipping open my medical records with a practiced flick of his wrist. His voice shifted, more serious now. “Looks like you tore your ACL pretty badly back in November and had surgery not long after. I see you also had a concussion from the fall?”

I nodded, the words tight in my throat as the memory of that day washed over me. The fall. It was one of those moments that replays on a loop in your head, like a nightmare you can’t escape. Every time I closed my eyes, there it was again.

“The good news is,” Suho continued, “it looks like the concussion’s healed up nicely. And your knee—well, it’s a long road, but you’re making progress. Any soreness left?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted. “It still aches if I’m on my feet for too long. I’ve been doing the rehab exercises, but it’s slow. Really slow.”

Suho nodded and gently moved my leg, testing the range of motion. “That’s to be expected. Recovery from something like this doesn’t happen overnight. It’ll still be sore. It might even throb as you rebuild strength, but you’re healing. You’re making progress. I think we can start transitioning you off the crutches. Take it slow, though—walk short distances without them at first, see how it feels.”

His words hit me like a lifeline I didn’t even know I needed. “So... does that mean I can skate again? Not right now, but... eventually?”

Suho met my eyes. His face was serious again. “If you stick with the rehab, listen to your body, and don’t rush it, then yes, I think it’s possible. But it’s going to take time. Patience is going to be key.” He paused, his gaze anchoring me. “We can start you on the treadmill by the end of the week. Slow, steady walking, just to get your knee used to the movement again. Maybe—just maybe—if everything goes well, we can start with some light skating. No jumps, no spins—just laps.”

Relief hit me like a wave, a warmth that spread through me like the first hint of daylight after a long night. It wasn’t a promise, but it was something. And right now, that was enough.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice fragile, barely holding it together.

Suho smiled, kind but firm. “One step at a time, Y/N. You’re not in this alone.”

I sat there, absorbing the weight of his words. This wasn’t the end. It was a new beginning, a different kind of fight. But it was mine.

He flipped through my records, his voice settling back into its practical tone. “Keep up with the therapy. Let’s schedule a follow-up in early April to see how you’re doing. Any questions?”

One question burned in my chest, the one I’d been too scared to ask for months. My heart pounded in my ears, and I swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in my throat. What if he said what Dr. Banerjee had said? That the damage was too severe? That I’d never skate again? That I’d never compete again?

“Yes, Y/N?” Suho’s voice was calm, patient, his eyes urging me to ask.

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to speak. “Will I be able to compete again?”

For a split second, he didn’t answer, and in that pause, the whole world seemed to hold its breath with me. Then he exhaled slowly, his voice careful. “That’s a good question. It’s possible. A lot of athletes come back from ACL tears, some even making a full recovery. But a lot depends on how well the next few months go. You’ve got to retrain your knee without overdoing it.”

He leaned forward slightly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “The next month is crucial. You’re going to start feeling like your knee’s back to normal, but that’s when you’re most at risk for re-injury. It’ll be tempting to jump right back into your routine, but you’ve got to stick to the plan. If you can do that, we’ll reassess in April.”

I nodded, my mind spinning with all the things he was telling me. There was so much to process, and the fear—God, the fear—still lingered like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of my hope. But then Suho’s next words broke through that darkness.

“Y/N, I don’t want you to lose hope. I know it’s frustrating, but mental determination is going to play a huge role in your recovery. If you stay patient and committed, there’s every reason to believe you’ll get back to where you were.”

A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. “Really?” I asked, barely daring to believe it.

Suho smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made me believe him just a little more. “I can’t guarantee anything, but if you stay the course, there’s a good chance you’ll be back on that ice—maybe even as an Olympian again.”

The weight I’d been carrying for months felt a little lighter. A little. I felt like maybe—just maybe—there was something to hope for. “Thanks, Dr. Je—uh, Suho,” I corrected myself, sheepish at the grin he shot me.

“No need to thank me,” he said with a chuckle. “This one’s all on you. Just don’t push yourself too hard. There’ll be plenty of time for that later, once you’re healed.”

I gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

We wrapped things up, and as I grabbed my crutches to leave, Suho gave me one last smile. “See you Friday night... at the game.”

“Oh, right! See you then.”

The cold January air hit me as I stepped outside, sharp and biting, but I didn’t mind. Not today. Hope had a way of making everything feel a little warmer, even when the world was still so cold.

After the appointment, Mina insisted on lunch, and we made our way to our favorite café. The kind of place where the staff knows your name, and the menu’s practically burned into your brain. Then, she drove me straight to the dealership where Emily had promised my new car would be waiting.

As we pulled up, my stomach did that familiar drop when I saw it: a shiny Mercedes Benz SUV, gleaming under the dealership lights like it was posing for a magazine cover. It screamed luxury—so Emily. So her. I mean, of course it was a Mercedes. Nothing less for someone like her. But to me, it was just... a reminder of how little she really understood me.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but there it was—the familiar weight of disappointment settling in my chest like a stone.

I reluctantly climbed into the car, too shiny and new, the leather too pristine beneath me. As I pulled out of the lot, my phone buzzed—Emily, of course. She’d been waiting for me to finish the appointment so she could call and get her feedback. Normally, I’d answer right away, quick to please. But not today. I hit decline, sending her straight to voicemail. If she got upset later, I could always claim I was driving, still getting used to the new car.

We arrived back at the apartment just as Lucy was pulling in, practically radiating her usual excitement. As soon as she saw us, she bounded over, brimming with that energy that made me laugh even when I wasn’t in the mood. The two girls—always together, always bouncing off each other—decided it was the perfect time to test out my "sea legs" with a walk around the block.

“Guys, it’s January. In Michigan. And you want to go for a walk?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“Come on, Y/N, you’re a figure skater! Don’t tell me you can’t handle the cold,” Mina teased, already bundling up in an impressive number of layers.

“I’ll manage,” I said, surprised at their enthusiasm. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but they seemed so excited, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

“It’s twenty-two degrees. Practically a heat wave!” Lucy laughed, wrapping a scarf around her neck like she was about to conquer Everest.

We set off, no real destination in mind. It felt surprisingly good to walk without crutches, to breathe in the sharp winter air, to move like I had control again. Like I wasn’t just waiting for my body to catch up with me.

Less than a block in, my phone rang again—Emily. I sighed and quickly muted it before either of them could notice.

“Who is it?” Mina asked, glancing over at me with a curious look in her eye.

“My mom,” I shrugged. “I’ll talk to her later.”

“You were living with her until last week, right?” Lucy asked, her voice full of that inquisitive, "I-want-to-know-all-about-you" tone that she never quite managed to hide.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing up at the sky, trying to gather my thoughts. “My parents split when I was a kid. Dad’s in Washington now, and Emily and I—well, we bounced around for a while.”

“That sounds exciting!” Mina said with wide eyes, like I’d been living some kind of glamorous life. “You must’ve traveled to so many cool places with skating.”

“Sort of,” I said, smiling a little. “I’ve traveled a lot, but mostly it’s arenas and hotel rooms. They all kind of blend together after a while.”

“Really? You don’t get to sightsee?” Lucy asked, surprised.

I shook my head, feeling a little embarrassed. “Not really.”

“That kinda sucks,” Lucy said bluntly, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, a little. I mean, I’m lucky to have had the opportunities, but it’s not all glitter and lights. Mostly it’s just ice rinks and gym time.”

“Not much of a social scene, huh?” Mina asked, clearly intrigued now.

“Nope,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just a lot of catty, ultra-competitive girls and their stage moms.”

“Ever seen anyone pull a Tanya?” Lucy asked, her voice suddenly teasing, the mischievous glint in her eyes impossible to miss.

“Harding? Nah, usually the sabotage is a little more subtle than a baton to the knee.” I giggled, feeling a little lighter. The past few months had been so heavy, and for a second, it felt like the weight was finally lifting.

“That’s not how you got hurt, is it?” Mina’s voice softened, the concern slipping into her tone as her eyes searched mine.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just... fell during practice. Stupid. My skate caught on a rough patch of ice, and down I went. Concussion and a torn ACL.”

“Ouch,” Lucy winced, looking at me like I’d just told her about some medieval torture device.

“Yeah, it wasn’t great,” I said, feeling the sting of it even now, even though it was months ago.

“There wasn’t much news about it, though,” Lucy added, brow furrowing in thought. “I didn’t even know you were off the ice.”

“Oh, come on, Lucy!” Mina teased, rolling her eyes. “Y/N’s a big celeb. It was bound to be news eventually.”

“No, it’s okay,” I reassured them, wanting to avoid feeling like I was in the spotlight. “My mom’s my manager, and she kept it quiet. She was hoping I’d bounce back quickly and didn’t want the press all over it. I’m sure once I don’t show up at Nationals, something will leak.”

“Is it weird?” Lucy asked, her curiosity obvious. “Having your mom as your manager?”

“I never really thought about it,” I said, shrugging. “It’s always been that way. When we moved away after the divorce, she was already handling all my schedules and practices. It just sort of... evolved from there.”

“Do you miss her?” Mina’s voice softened, no teasing, just a gentle curiosity.

I sighed, the question catching me off guard. “Honestly? It’s been nice having some space. She couldn’t stop talking about my knee, about how I needed to get back on the ice. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with herself if I’m not skating.”

“That would get old fast,” Mina agreed with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, it really did,” I said, appreciating the distance from it all. For the first time in a long while, I could breathe without worrying if I was letting someone down.

The conversation shifted after that, and soon we were all laughing again as Mina told us about her latest wedding-planning disaster—because, of course, there’s always something.

Before I knew it, we were back at our building, heading up in the elevator.

“So, it’s Monday night,” Lucy said, her grin widening like she was about to make a really good point. “None of us have to work tomorrow, and the guys are busy. You know what that means?”

I shook my head, clueless, watching as she and Mina exchanged a look.

“Girls’ night!” Mina squealed, her excitement practically vibrating in the air.

“Girls’ night?” I echoed, frowning slightly, still trying to wrap my head around what that actually meant.

“Oh, you have no idea what you’ve been missing,” Lucy teased, flinging an arm around my shoulders like we’d been friends for years instead of days. “It’s sacred. We eat junk food, drink cocktails, and watch chick flicks until we pass out from a sugar coma.”

“And this is… fun?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be intrigued or terrified.

“Uh, yeah!” Lucy said, like I’d just asked if the sky was blue.

“I’m not really much of a drinker,” I admitted, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden.

“Lightweight or just don’t like it?” Lucy asked, her curiosity sharpening like she was about to dissect me.

“Neither, really. I just… never really had the chance. Training and alcohol don’t mix, and I was always in bed by nine.” I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, my embarrassment showing through the words.

Mina’s eyes went wide, like I’d just confessed to living under a rock. “Wait, you’ve never had a drink?”

“Not really,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling like I didn’t belong in this conversation at all.

“No moral objections or anything?” Mina asked, her voice teasing but still full of genuine curiosity.

“No, I just… never got around to it,” I said, trying to brush it off but already feeling the weight of my own weirdness.

Mina grinned, practically glowing with excitement. “Well, no bedtime tonight! You in?”

I hesitated. The idea of drinking for the first time made me nervous. But the way their enthusiasm was lighting up the room—well, it was kind of infectious. “Yeah, okay,” I said, even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

“Great! We’ll be right over with the provisions!” Mina practically dragged Lucy into their apartment, leaving their door wide open as they disappeared inside, their voices floating back out into the hallway.

"Mina, let’s get the movies! What’s the vibe?" Lucy’s voice called from inside, pulling me into their whirlwind without even asking.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a grin. Lucy was already ransacking their kitchen, piling snacks and bottles into a laundry basket like she was gearing up for some epic battle. “What kind of movies do you like?” she asked, still rummaging around, not even looking up.

“I’m not picky,” I said, laughing at how absurdly fast she was moving.

“Perfect! Chick flicks it is!” she declared, holding up a bag of chips like she’d just discovered treasure.

“Wait, are we really watching all of those?” I asked as Mina emerged from the bedroom with a stack of DVDs taller than her head. It looked like enough to keep us glued to the screen for a week.

“No, but it’s good to have options,” Mina said with a wink, tossing the cases into the basket like she had it all figured out.

“Alright, give us a sec to change into some sweats, and we’ll be over,” Lucy said, already heading to her bedroom with her spoils.

“Sweats, Mina?” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Do you even own any?”

“It’s girls’ night, Y/N. Concessions must be made,” she replied, pretending to be scandalized.

Back in my apartment, I changed into fleece pants and my old Team USA hoodie, pulling on a pair of fuzzy slipper socks. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever this was, but I was definitely curious. The second I stepped into the living room, I was hit with the full blast of their “party zone” transformation. Mina was fiddling with the DVD player, while Lucy was already setting up the counter with snacks and drinks, making a delightful symphony of chaos in the kitchen.

A wicked grin spread across my face. Emily would flip if she saw this junk food carnival. Tonight was about firsts—first girls’ night, first chick flick binge, first cocktail, first indulgence in all the things I’d never let myself have. I was ready to enjoy it all.

“So, what’d you start us off with?” I asked, as Lucy tossed a bag of Doritos to Mina, who caught it in mid-air with a triumphant grin.

“Well, we’ve got to save our tearjerkers for later,” Mina said with a mischievous smile. “I thought we’d kick things off with How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Gotta get the laughs and the man candy going early, you know?”

“Mmm… McConaughey…” Lucy sighed dreamily, stretching out like a cat. “That man makes me miss Southern boys.”

“Hey, you could’ve snagged yourself a Texan. You and Jimin both went to Texas Tech,” Mina giggled, throwing a pillow at Lucy.

“Taehyung more than makes up for the lack of an accent,” Lucy shot back with a smirk.

“Uh, speaking of accents…” I chimed in, still trying to shake the sound of Dr. Jeon’s voice from earlier.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Mina burst out laughing, catching on immediately. “I should’ve warned you about my dad. Isn’t his accent hilarious? I’m used to it, but even now, sometimes it catches me off guard.”

“That man is like sex on a stick at the State Fair,” Lucy added, already heading back to the kitchen for more drinks.

“Lucy!” I exclaimed, feeling my face heat up like a furnace.

“Just admit it, Y/N—Dr. Jeon is drool-worthy,” Lucy teased, her grin so mischievous it was practically glowing.

“Yeah, he’s good-looking,” I stammered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “But isn’t he, like, practically your future father-in-law?”

“Exactly,” Lucy said, holding up her drink like she’d just won a gold medal. “Gives me a glimpse into my future, and it’s looking damn good twenty-five years down the road.”

I blinked, trying to process the absurdity of the conversation. “I’m sure Mina doesn’t appreciate you associating her father with… well, that.”

“Stop being such a nun, Y/N. I know my dad’s a DILF,” Mina said, so casually I almost choked.

“A what?” I asked, horrified but somehow intrigued.

Mina and Lucy exchanged a knowing glance. “Oh, sweet summer child,” Lucy sighed dramatically. “DILF stands for ‘Dad I’d like to—’”

I choked on my chip before she could finish, coughing like I’d just swallowed a firecracker. My face was even hotter now.

“Didn’t need that visual, thanks,” I muttered, half-laughing, half-wincing.

Mina patted me on the back, giggling like she couldn’t contain herself. “Oh, Y/N, you’re just too much fun to corrupt.”

“You underestimate the power of the Dark Side,” Lucy added, her voice dropping into a low, Darth Vader impression, complete with heavy breathing.

“Mina, there is no place for Star Wars geekery at Girls’ Night,” Mina interjected with a mock-serious tone, like she was the gatekeeper of some sacred tradition.

“Mina, there’s always a place for Star Wars geekery,” Lucy shot back, turning to me for backup, her eyes wide with earnestness. “Right, Y/N?”

“Uh, sure?” I replied, suddenly feeling very much like I was in a conversation I hadn’t quite signed up for.

“You’ve seen it, right? Star Wars?” Lucy asked, her disbelief written all over her face.

“Actually… no,” I winced, bracing for the fallout.

Lucy gasped like I’d just told her I’d never seen the sun rise. “OH. MY. GOD!” she screamed, the force of her voice almost knocking me over. She dropped her drink onto the counter with a clang. “Are you kidding me? Mina, go get my special editions! We need to fix this now!”

“No way!” Mina shot back, hands on her hips like some kind of movie-critic superhero. “Girls’ Night equals chick flicks, not galactic battles.”

“Hey, The Empire Strikes Back is very romantic,” Lucy protested, her voice full of conviction.

“Yeah, until someone gets their hand sliced off with a lightsaber,” I countered, feeling a little bolder now.

“Whatever, you uncultured heathen,” Lucy rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Soon, Y/N. I’ll fix this, I swear.”

Lucy handed each of us a glass as she emerged from the kitchen, and Mina reached for the remote. “We ready?” Mina asked, settling in next to me, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“Yup, everything’s prepped,” Lucy said, raising her glass like she was about to make a grand speech. “Alright, ladies, a toast—to the first of many Girls’ Nights with our new BFF, Y/N.”

“And to getting Y/N tipsy enough to spill all her secrets,” Mina added, making me laugh mid-sip.

“Cheers!” we clinked glasses, and I took a cautious sip of what I thought was water but tasted like pure fire. The burn hit me so fast, I practically choked.

“That’s disgusting! How do you guys drink this stuff?” I gasped, pushing the glass away as my throat burned like it had just met lava.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Lucy said with a grin, clearly enjoying my suffering. “Next round, I promise something fruity.”

Mina snapped her fingers at Lucy. “Make the woman a Kami!”

“So demanding,” Lucy sighed, but a few moments later, she handed me a frothy, pink drink. “Try this. You’ll like it.”

I took a cautious sip, surprised to find it actually tasted good. The burn was still there, but it was wrapped in this sweet, tangy burst of raspberry. I took another sip, feeling warmth spread through me like I’d just been wrapped in a blanket of comfort.

“Good, right?” Lucy prompted, watching me carefully, her grin not quite hiding her excitement.

“Really good,” I nodded, a little more confidently this time, taking a bigger drink.

“Just pace yourself,” Mina warned, raising an eyebrow. “There’s more alcohol in those than it tastes.”

Hours flew by in a blur of movies, laughter, and progressively more ridiculous makeovers. By the time we finished Clueless, I was sprawled across the couch, my head resting in Lucy’s lap with Mina snuggled up against my legs. The room felt warm and familiar, and—surprisingly—comfortable. Like I belonged.

“The night’s still young! What’s next?” Lucy stretched, her voice muffled by the pillow she was hugging to her chest.

“Leo!” Mina shouted, her eyes practically sparkling. “The night isn’t over until we’ve seen Leo!”

Lucy popped in Titanic and grabbed another drink from the kitchen, moving just a little slower now, like the alcohol was finally starting to catch up. “Anyone else?”

“I shouldn’t—” I started.

“Nonsense!” Mina interrupted, poking me in the side with a wicked grin. “You’re still way too coherent for a proper Girls’ Night.”

Rolling my eyes, I accepted the glass she handed me. “Fine. But if I pass out, I’m blaming you.”

By the time Jack was sketching Rose, I’d stopped keeping track of the drinks, and the night had dissolved into fits of laughter and way-too-drunk confessions. At one point, Lucy and Mina reenacted the “I’m flying” scene, nearly knocking over the wine bottle in the process.

But as the movie stretched into the early hours, I found myself comfortable—maybe too comfortable, considering how much I’d indulged. As the credits rolled, Mina turned to me, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Okay, real talk, Y/N. Never?” Lucy asked, her voice serious but with that mischievous gleam in her eyes that I knew meant she was circling back to the topic she was clearly obsessed with.

“Nope,” I said, crossing my arms like some sort of rebellious fortress. I wasn’t budging.

“That’s just... so wrong,” Lucy groaned, her eyes practically rolling out of her head. “Your lady business must be staging a rebellion.”

“There are plenty of people who make it to twenty-four without sex,” I said, rolling my eyes like I was offering them the most obvious truth in the universe.

“Yeah, but you’re hot!” Mina chimed in, her hands waving around like she was making a dramatic point. “Guys should be lining up for you!”

“I’d jump you,” Mina added with a grin, her finger lazily plucking at the fuzz on my pants like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Thanks, Mina,” I laughed, genuinely amused. “That’s true friendship right there.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her expression pure contentment, like she’d just solved world peace.

“I don’t know what to tell you guys,” I admitted, my thoughts briefly flickering to Jungkook. “I just never really had the opportunity.”

“There’s gotta be at least one hot male figure skater you could’ve, you know, jumped in the weight room,” Lucy teased, her tone teasing but somehow still playful.

“Lucy, some people actually use the gym for exercise,” I shot back, feeling like I was dodging a slow-motion car crash.

“Oh, believe me, Y/N, I use it for recreational purposes,” Lucy quipped, her grin devilish. “My idea of ‘recreation’ just doesn’t match yours.”

“Perv,” I muttered, laughing, trying to shield myself from her shenanigans.

"Proud to be one!" Lucy declared, her laughter echoing through the room like a contagious wave.

“We need to find you a guy,” Mina said suddenly, tapping her chin like she was a mastermind concocting a plan for world domination. “Lucy, who do we know?”

“No way!” I held up my hands defensively. “You are not setting me up with anyone.”

“But, Y/N!” Mina protested, as if this was a criminal injustice.

“I can find my own guy if I want to,” I insisted, my thoughts unwillingly drifting to Jungkook. I bit my lip, and it was like they could read me like a book.

“Oh, look at that face!” Mina practically lunged at me. “You met someone, didn’t you?”

“No!” I shot back a little too quickly, feeling the heat of embarrassment climb up my neck.

“You can’t fool us, honey,” Mina said, her voice full of mock disbelief. “That face has ‘crush’ written all over it!” She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Who’s the guy? Is he hot? Is he here? Did you kiss him? Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Her questions were coming at me like a machine gun, and I was about to implode.

“There’s nothing to tell!” I mumbled, sinking deeper into the couch, wishing I could just disappear.

“Y/N!” Mina cried dramatically. “We’ve been with Chim and Tae for years! We need to live vicariously through your romantic escapades!”

“What romantic escapades?” I shot back, trying—and failing—to sound cool and detached.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her look knowing and challenging. “You’re hiding something boy-related. Spill.”

“Fine!” I groaned, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I met a guy at the airport. We talked for a few minutes while he helped me with my bags. That’s it. Can we move on now?”

“No, we cannot move on!” Lucy said, her eyes practically popping out of her head. “Was he cute?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent, but the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“You guess?” Mina echoed, her brow almost disappearing into her hairline.

“I wouldn’t really call him ‘cute,’” I muttered, my face burning as I tried to downplay it.

“Well, what would you call him then?” Mina’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Hot? Sexy? Drop-dead gorgeous? Fuckhawt?”

“Uh… all of the above?” I finally admitted, which sent them into a squealing frenzy that could’ve shattered glass.

“Did you kiss him? Did you give him your number? When are you seeing him again?” they fired off at me, like they were in some kind of interrogation scene in a rom-com.

“No, I didn’t kiss him, and I didn’t give him my number,” I confessed, biting my lip as I fought to suppress the butterflies. “But, yeah, he suggested we meet up again. That’s all.”

Mina looked at me, her expression downright disappointed. “Why didn’t you give him your number?”

“I don’t know, Mina!” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to guys. He didn’t ask for my number, and I wasn’t about to throw it at him if he was just being polite.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t just being polite, Y/N,” Lucy said, her tone dripping with conviction, like she knew something I didn’t.

“Whatever,” I sighed, trying to steer the ship away from that topic. “He was gorgeous and sweet, and yes, he gave me butterflies, but I’ll probably never see him again, so can we please talk about something else?”

Mina leaned back with a dreamy sigh, her eyes practically glowing with unspoken wisdom. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Your butterflies are still out there. You just have to catch them.”

© chimcess, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Taglist: @smartkookiee @knightofmidnight @mar-lo-pap @jjeonjjk7 @somewhatjungkook @lovingkoalaface @jimineepaboya @iswearimover5feetall @blissingtaehyung @futuristicenemychaos @kooloveys @jenniebyrubies @8thmuse @beattiestreet @tatzzz-25

[xxchumanixx]

May I please request a fic where the reader (who's a famous singer) falls in love with Tim but is reluctant to fully trust and be vulnerable with him due to bad experiences she's had with men in the past? The reader could eventually write and sing a song about her love for Tim which blows up and even wins awards like Grammys too which makes their relationship stronger and she opens up her heart more? 🥺

Be myself

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit of angst, mentions of physical abuse / hitting (please look for help if you're in an abusive relationship! Being abused is not normal and it shouldn't be simply endured and viewed as it) Word count: 2.421 Authors note: I don't know if I used the gif before (probably did), but it just fits perfectly. I know you linked Whats love got to do with it by our legend Tina, but I kinda didn't vibe with it. I hope you'll still like it, though (if it was even meant for reference to the song the reader writes). I'm in no way a songwriter, so I'm not at all sure about that small part i wrote there. I know I posted a sneak peak for something different, but this gave me so much motivation to write so i put it first. Enjoy!

He didn't know how he ended up with you of all people.

Not that he'd complain.

Never.

But a famous singer like you and a cop like him? It had to be fate that brought you together when him and his rookie had been called to deescalate a situation at a concert of yours.

He didn't expect to fall for you - hell, you probably didn't either. It just kinda happened after you gave him your number before him and his rookie left.

It had been meant more like a joke - yet he hadn't been able to get you out of his head and neither did you. So he texted you.

Three weeks later you went on your first date.

You had been cautious, bad experiences with previous boyfriends and dates branding you more than you'd have liked to admit.

And so you didn't.

The date went great, leading to another one shortly after.

Tim swore you were playing some magic trick on him. The speed in which he fell for you was shocking. In a few weeks you had him wrapped around your finger.

It didn't take long for him to admit his feelings to you, saying he'd understand if you weren't ready for anything yet, and as he rambled on, you'd cut him off with a kiss.

Because you were indeed ready.

At least that's what you thought.

Not that you didn't have feelings for him - you had, and they were strong. You just had trouble letting yourself be too open, too vulnerable.

To trust easily.

Though, right from the start, you knew he was different. He was interested in your career, yes, but in a way that didn't profit him or made him want to brag about his girlfriend being famous.

Or try and hit you if you didn't spend all your money on him. It had happened once, leaving a mark on your soul you had trouble getting rid of. Getting rid of the douchebag wasn't exactly easy, either.

But that was another thing.

No, Tim supported you, took days off to watch your concerts and be there for you. And maybe to have the time of his life with you in your wardrobe backstage.

For a while now, you had been working on a project - a new song that one day came to your mind when you thought about the past few months and your relationship with Tim.

It had almost been a year now, and you started to question whether your cautiousness was misplaced.

Not that you didn't trust him.

You trusted him more than you did any other man you'd been with, it just was like a habit of sorts. Some sort of protection your mind had put up in the beginning.

It wasn't easy to let that guard down.

It was one of the main parts you included in that song. How he made you want to be more open, to trust and give up that control you so desperately held onto.

To love without the constant fear of it all going downhill.

Your producer, Savannah, supported you all the way. You wrote your song, recorded it over and over again until you were a hundred percent convinced that it did Tim justice in a way.

Or rather his love for you. The way he never treated you differently even though you were famous.

Sure, there were times when his face would be plastered along magazine articles alongside yours - especially the beginning hadn't been easy.

Hiding a relationship wasn't easy and it certainly didn't work in this case, either. The first time it happened it had been on Instagram.

Someone had seen you and him together, taking a video and posting it for everyone to see. Once it reached a certain amount of views, it spread like wildfire, and everyone knew.

Tim wasn't very happy about it.

He understood that it was part of your life, but he didn't like it - and that included him - plastered all over the internet.

When you were shopping and hoarded by paparazzi or too many fans and he'd notice you were overwhelmed, he'd play the 'I'm a cop, please stand back' card, effectively getting you out of the situation.

Another thing you loved him for.

He didn't thrive on the constant attention, didn't suck it up like a sponge and used it to his advantage. Not like other men had tried to do before.

So why was it so hard to let go? Why was it so hard to trust, to let yourself be too vulnerable?

When you published the song, Tim had yet to hear it.

Yes, maybe you should have let him listen to it before publishing it, but you were too nervous. Too nervous he'd laugh at you, tell you that you were crazy for writing and publishing that song.

It would have also meant he'd question the origin - why you had such trust issues, had these problems of opening up.

You didn't want to be judged. After all, you still hadn't told him about it.

Only a few days later, you and Tim were driving in his truck home, when suddenly, the radio moderator announced your new song. Tim's gaze snapped to you - normally you'd show him your upcoming projects, talk to him about them.

He didn't know you'd just published a new song.

Your cheeks heated up as he stared at you in confusion before his gaze fixed back on the street. You knew he was listening, picking up on the lyrics.

Another thing you loved about him.

He didn't just hear the songs, he listened to them. Analyzing them, understanding them.

So it was no surprise he did understand this song, too. About a minute into the song he parked in his driveway, killing the engine but leaving the radio on.

You nibbled on your lip nervously, heart beating wildly as you tried to make out his reaction. You couldn't read his thoughts, so you had to rely on his body language.

And when he understood the song was about him, his gaze snapped to yours right as the second chorus hit.

You let me be myself, and I thank you for that.

You ban all the bad thoughts from my head.

No matter how hard I try, I can't find anything bad about you.

And I hope you see me like that, too.

You support me, give me strength,

It is wrong to hold you at arms length.

I love you and I hope you see,

that your're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

You swallowed, not interrupting him as he listened to the rest of the song. This certainly hadn't been how you'd planned this.

Sure, you wanted him to know about the song and all the things it expressed sooner or later, but when you published it, the thought of him hearing it that soon hadn't exactly crossed your mind.

When the song ended and the next came up, he immediately turned the radio off.

He stared at you, shocked, surprised.

In awe.

You bit your lip as his own parted, though nothing came out. His head tilted slightly, thinking.

"Is it true?" was the first thing he asked. "Or is it just... I don't know, a random love song?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head. "No, it's not a random love song." you said. "It... It's about you, Tim."

He nodded slightly, still shocked. "What about the- the trust issues you talk about? Or sing, for that matter." he inquired further. "Or the 'keeping at arms length'?"

You swallowed, sighing quietly as you looked away. "It's all true, yes." you admitted quietly. "And I know I should have told you, and I know you're having a lot of questions right now, but... I'm sorry."

Tim leaned forward over the middle console and placed his finger under your chin to lift your head, his blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." he said, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, it would be nice to know the details behind it, but I understand that you didn't tell me. Or show me the song beforehand, for that matter. It's great, by the way - just like everything else about you."

You blushed, suddenly feeling undeserving of him. He was way too caring and understanding.

"I mean, I assumed some things..." he continued, tilting his head from side to side for a moment. "But I never pushed you to tell me. And I won't now. Neither did you on the subject of Isabel. If you want to tell me, I'm happy to listen, but you don't have to. Just know that I feel incredibly honored and love you."

Tears burned in your eyes, and suddenly, you knew you could trust him with everything. No more keeping him at arms length.

"I love you, too." you breathed out, smiling through the tears. "I just- I don't know." you shook your head in sudden embarrassment. "Ever since I got famous all the men seemed to want the same thing. Fame, my face as their way into Hollywood. To brag about their girlfriend being famous and make themselves look more important. Or try and hit me for not spoiling them like the ungrateful bitch I am." you grimaced, and his eyes widened before they narrowed. "I know you aren't like that, I do. I just couldn't shake this... habit of closing myself off and trying to avoid another one of these situations. I'm sorry, Tim. I know you are better than them. That song is about you and it is supposed to express how I feel about you."

Tim smiled, cupping your face with his hands. "You're so much more than your career, Y/N." he told you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You're a caring, beautiful and brilliant woman. You're far more than I deserve yet I'm too selfish to ever let you go. I love you more than you can imagine, and I want you to know that I'd never try to get any fame or benefits or whatever from you or your career. Let alone lay a hand on you. I love you too much to risk us - not that I'd need your fame or money. I'm a cop and I love being a cop. My girlfriend just happens to be an amazing singer."

You laughed quietly, blushing more. His words spread a warmth through you like no one else ever did. "You're flattering me." you mumbled sheepishly. He cocked a brow. "I'm not." he said. "You are an amazing singer. You're amazing in general, all over."

You laughed once more, a smile on your lips. "You're way too good for me, Tim Bradford." you said. "I'm the one not deserving you."

He huffed, tilting his head from side to side again. "Debatable." he said. He leaned closer, capturing your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. "Come on, let's head inside." he mumbled against them. "I want to celebrate this song."

It had been about two weeks until your song seemed to have gained massive popularity, and when the letter landed in the mail weeks later, you screamed.

Tim had rushed into the kitchen, gun drawn as he tried to find out what happened. When he saw you with the letter in hand, pressing a hand to your mouth, he lowered the gun, stepping beside you.

One look at the letter and his lips parted.

You looked up in your excitement, almost headbutting him where he was looking over your shoulder. "Tim-" you breathed out, cutting yourself off with another squeal. He grimaced at the high sound, though laughing as he moved to hug you from behind.

"Baby, that's amazing." he breathed out. "I'm so proud of you." You bit your cheek, heart pounding wildly. "I- I mean, I haven't won anything yet." you said, fingers trembling as they held the letter. "But..." "But you're nominated." Tim finished for you. "That's more than most can wish for. This is amazing, Y/N. God, I'm so proud of you."

You smiled widely, clutching the letter to your chest. You giggled and jumped up and down in his arms, pressing a hand to your lips. Tim laughed quietly, holding tighter onto you, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. In the last few weeks you'd grown even closer, and it all felt more right than ever.

"Told you you're amazing."

Nervous wasn't word enough to describe your current state.

The Grammys.

The fucking Grammys.

Never would you have thought this would happen. Who would have thought you'd make it this far?

Fidgeting with your small clutch nervously, you took a deep, trembling breath. Tim grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You'll be okay.

The wait had been torture.

Waiting for the day to come, waiting for the announcements. It was like a dream come true, yet the wait left you on edge.

You'd been nominated for single of the year. Your song about Tim Be Myself had literally exploded, landing you a spot at the Grammys.

You inhaled shakily as the nominees were announced before the moderator opened an envelope. She drew it out, making the anticipation rise higher and higher until your heart suddenly slammed to a stop.

"Best single of the year goes to... Be Myself!" Your lips parted, not believing what just happened. Tim cheered, the crowd applauded, and you got up on shaky legs.

You couldn't believe it.

This was more than you could have ever wished for, and as Tim pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you the biggest, most proudest smile you'd ever seen on him before he ushered you to the stage, you knew it.

You knew he was the one.

He was the one that treated you right. The one that loved you unconditionally.

And you'd be forever grateful for that.

Tag List

@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly @augustvandyne @RookieTrek @dhundhchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @caplanbuckybarnes @sacredwarrior88

[shanefuckingscott]

Building a life for with you. 🦾

Sevika promises a better life for you, she'd fight in every battle in Zaun, but can she win the battle between herself? 🦾

Warning: Angst with comfort at the end, Sevika being a jerk, Reader addicted to shimmer, horrible writing, barely proofread

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

This all started when Silco died. Sevika was rarely at home, even when he was alive, but still, she made it up to you in ways she can. You understood her job, you were there with here since day one. When she was with Vander, fighting on the bridge, and till she met Silco, you were there to support her. Everytime she comes home late with cuts snd bruises, she reminds that she's doing this for you, to have a better future, for your freedom.

Lately, she's been coming home once every week. She probably slept in Silco's office again, and you know she's trying her hardest to keep things running, while still finding a resolve for the other Chem-baron's turf wars. When she came home, you greeted her with her her favourite food for dinner, but she barely looked at it, and just went to bed. You, of course, being concerned for her well being, you follow her, and rub her back. "Is everything all right?" You ask with a hint of worry in your tone. She scoffs "Yeah, never better" You hear the sarcasm in her voice, and you go to her face, and kiss her, "Babe, please, take a break. Just this once. I need you home, I miss you, and every time you get home lately, you barely notice me, you don't talk to me, so please, can you just, talk?" you plead, you were almost in tears, seeing your girlfriend like this, your situation, everything feels like it's falling apart.

"Look, please, cut me some slack. I'm busy everyday dealing with everyone, just please get off my back just this once." That hurt. That hurt more than it should have. Maybe it was because you're sensitive. You try to understand her line of work as best as you can, but even you were only human. "I understand..." And with that, you get off her, and she's already snoring. She doesn't know, but you slept on the couch that day.

You could feel a rift between you and Sevika's relationship getting bigger and bigger by the day. She comes home with a new arm, with someone's blood on her, and she just casually mentions Smeech and her got into a fight, and wanted no more questions. You try your best, your absolute best to keep you too from falling apart. You try to make Sevika's day a little better, cooking for her, giving her space, preparing her lunch that she never eats, she comes home with the food already spoiled, and just leaves it for you to clean. Every night, she doesn't know, but you're not next to her. Or maybe she does. Maybe she just doesn't care. She hasn't said 'I love you' to you in weeks, she hasn't smile, hugged, or even kissed you.

The last straw was when she came home drunk after some fight with a piltie, and her girlfriend. She had bruises everywhere, she even had bitemarks on her. She looked like shit. You rushed to ask her if she was okay, and what happened, but she just pushed you away when you tried to give her a hug, and she just walked passed you. That was your breaking point. With tears in your eyes, you ask "Do you still even love me at all?" You were trying to hold your tears in, and stop them from spilling, much to no avail. So you're just wiping your face, not looking at her. "I'm not in the mood for this." She just says, not caring. And that was it. You lost your Sevika. You even wondered if she even was yours in the first place. Maybe you're just someone that keeps her grounded once in awhile, but as much as you love her, you were wondering if she felt the same anymore. Or at all. Everytime she was in the house, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall. And that’s when it dawned on you, that maybe she doesn't care about you as much as she says she does. You saw her lunch spoiled again, and you cried. That was it.

While she was in the bathroom, you were already fixing your things as quickly as possible. She probably wouldn't care if you were doing it infront of her. You hide your things, and you pretend to read a book in your bed. She just looks at you, and then she proceeds on doing what she's doing, and she lays in bed, facin gaway from you. You could gear her sigh, and you were trying your best not to cry. You were both quiet for a bit, until you finally decide to break the silence, and the tension between you two. With a different tone of voice, you just calmly ask her, "Do you still love me?" she doesn't respond. "Do you still love me, Sevika?" your eyes starting to wet, but you were met with no response again. The tears are now running down your face, but you try your best to cry silently, as you put the book down, you finally lay in bed sniffling, and till you just say, "Goodnight, Sevika. I love you." And that was the last thing heard from that night.

When Sevika woke up, she was just about to make a quick trip to the bathroom, and then head to work. When she notices the lack of your presence. She tries looking for you in the kitchen, in the bedroom again, in the bathroom, the living room, and outside. You weren't there. Where were you? She went back to the kitchen, and saw a note on the refrigerator she failed to see earlier. It wrote,

"My love, I've been with you through everything, I was with you on your worst days, and I was with you on your best days. There's no doubt in my heart how much I loved you. And I still do, but lately, I've been feeling that maybe you don't love me too. I know you always say, 'Everything I do, I do for you' which I appreciated, truly, but lately, I feel like our relationship is only one sided now, and it hurts. I trycto give you th love you want, and now, I just realized that maybe the only way you'll love me too, is when I'm far away from you. I'll miss you very much, every single day. I'll miss the days we were happy together, the days that you were happy with me. I hope someday, you find someone that'll make you as happy, as you made me these last few years.

– Sincerely, yours Y/N"

Sevika didn't know she could feel this hurt. She can't. She knows she's been pushing you away, she knows it's her that didn't value your efforts, she knows it was her that made you feel like you weren't important. She knows how hard you tried to keep you both together. She knows she fucked up. And now, you're gone.

The whole morning, she couldn't think straight while she was working. All she kept thinking was you, where have you been? It was like you had planned to leave, that's what hurt her the most. The note was true, you stuck around, when everything was going bad, and supported her. You were there. And now things are resolved, it was like you were one of her problems that had goe on their own. But you weren't. You're the whole reason she fights every single day, even though she failed to show you. She wants you back, she needs you back.

For the past few weeks, she's been looking for you everywhere, asking around, but she's not hearing from you. All she does is drink, and go home. Every night, before she falls asleep, she silently cries, and misses you. She smells your pillows before she falls asleep, and she hugs them. It was the only thing left of you. It was as if you were never there. Although your smell still lingers. She misses your presence. She misses the homecook meals you make her, she misses when you would greet her from work. Your face, when she comes back. Your smile, just, you as a whole. She misses you.

She feels regret of the times she let you sleep alone, the times she didn't say 'I love you' to you. The times she was tired from work, and she couldn't see what you were making her, but she knows you're right behind her, cleaning her wounds. Kissing her back, and then getting up, to give her space. It gets so hard every day, where she doesn't see you on the couch, reading your favourite book. She doesn't see your face smiling at her everytime you see her. She knows she's not the perfect lover, but she still wondered why you stick around. All of the things she didn't appreciate when you were there, she longs for now. She'd kill to hear your voice, to smell your scent, and to see your smile again.

A month goes by, she had a haircut, because you weren't there to tie her hair up for her, she quit smoking, and she got a new piercing. She's still actively looking for you, though. Everytime there's a rally, she always looks around to find you, but you're never there. The house that used to be a home for her is just a place where she sleeps now. She spends most of her time, drinking, gambling, taking care of the chem-barons, and or looking for you.

Until one day, your friend came up to Sevika. She told her where you're staying, she told her that you got new apartment. But that wasn't the reason she came to her. She said she hasn't heard from you in awhile, and you weren't answering her calls, and opening the door when she knocked. She got worried, and she had a hunch of what was happening, so she immediately went to Sevika. When Sevika heard the news, it was like her stomach dropped. She stopped to process everything she learned about you. But then she snapped out of it. "Take me to her."

When she got to your new apartment, it was much smaller than your old house together. She knocked at your door, to get no answer. She knocked again harder, but you still weren't answering. At this point she's getting more worried than ever, more worried than she's ever been. You leaving was one thing, since she knows she'll find her ways to you. But she was worried you died. She's now panting, her heart was racing. She's calling out your name, while knocking loudly. She went to peak to the window to you room, her heart stopped.

You were right there, with empty vials of shimmer in your hand. Some were scattered on the floor. You were laying there, it was like you were just asleep. "Fuck" she days to herself. She knew that shimmer was bad, and she was also addicted to it once. But, she never expected to see you resorting this. She knew she was the only one you had left, since you had no family, but she didn't know you were suffering this much. It was all so heavy in her heart, as it was on yours. But she couldn't think of her self right now.

She bursts the door open, and pics you up. She listens to your heartbeat. It was faint. She couldn't keep herself from crying any longer, as she carries, and takes you to Silco's medics. "Please, help her, do anything just don't let her die!" She orders, she was worried about you. She typically wasnt the one to cry, but all she could think about was you getting back to her, and it hurts her to think that there was a chance that you might not. She clenched her heart, when the doctors took you away to pump all the drugs out of your body. When they took you away, and she was all alone, she had an outburst, and she didn't leave until they tell her she could see you again.

You were now stabilized, but you were left in a coma, due to you overdosing. Sevika cries, day and night, waiting for the day you wake up. She doesn't drink anymore, she doesn't smokke. She makes sure she's with you at times where she doesn't have work to do. She talks to you in your coma, hoping you can hear her pleading for you to wake up, and apologizing to you for not being a good lover. She tells you about her day. She often talks about Jinx, and Isha, while you're out. What she had for lunch, and she tells you how much she misses your cooking. She falls asleep on a chair and rests her head on your bed.

When you finally woke up, your head felt heavy. You blink for a moment, when u feel weight on your leg thighs. That's when you see her. You heart beats fast, and it can actually be seen and heard on the machine. Sevika woke up worried, when she saw your heartbeat spike up, and her eyes go to your face, and she freezes. You woke up. She goes to hug, and kiss you, she's telling you sorry a million times, but you don't have the energy to hug her back, so you just smile. And suddenly, tears start rolling down your face, and Sevika stops as she hears you sniffle. "B-Babe! I'm so sorry about everything, I shouldn't have done that to you, you have no idea how much I regret everything I did to you, I want to be better, for us, for you, I know I'm not a perfect—" You kiss her.

For the first time in a while, you both feel genuinely happy again. Together. The kiss lasted for a while, and admittedly it was one of the best kisses you had your whole relationship. You both pull back to catch your breaths, but she pulls your face closer to hers, and whispers "I love you." You guys cry together the whole night in the hospital, after the nurses give you a check up. She's right beside you, re-telling the stories she shared you in your coma. You saw her smiling again, and your face is filled with joy. She's happy to see your smile too, and admitting that it was the first thing she misses about you.

Who knew one of you and Sevika's best dates would be in a hospital, but you wouldn't change a thing about it. You wouldn't change a thing about her. You're happy as long as she's hapoy, and she's happy as long as you're happy. The whole night was an emotional roller coaster of laughing and crying together, but ever since that night, you felt tour relationship with Sevika get stronger, and you're now alot closer.

After a few months, you both swore off drinking, smoking, and taking shimmer all together. Except that time she finally became a council. You both share a drink together to toast her achievement. And you're right there by her side, like you said you would. It was one of the many things Sevika loves about you. You both kept your promises to each other. She may not be the perfect girlfriend, or the perfect person, but she knows she's gonna get married to one.

Sevika proposed to you on your anniversary, now that she's given you the thing you thought was impossible, but everythings possible with Sevika. The freedom, the better future, the world she said she'd build for you. But she just now realized, she was building it WITH you.

And you lived happily, ever, after.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yes, it's all cheezy, I couldn't keep hurting myself, or you for too long. heh.

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hi! I was wondering what your thoughts were on the relationship between Hong Lu and Xichun. Namely (if I'm interpreting this correctly), how much he seems to care for her well-being. This has been nagging me since Canto 7 but he was so insistent on her being careful or joining up with him. Like you can tell how bothered he was. And HL, while often repeating some form of "my family sucks" doesn't usually let it linger? He makes a joke and moves on. I haven't heard anyone talking about it but this is the first time HL has shown care towards any of his family, even if later he is all "yeah if she dies, she dies, oh well". You're not fooling anyone, you.

You're right on the money with that one! When Hong Lu calls Xichun his 'most amicable sibling', I believe he's very much being truthful about that. Because while yes, she's rude and tends to do everything in her power to push him away, there are small moments that show that their care for each other is in fact mutual.

After all, she herself even points out that if it was any other sibling he ran into, he would have already been taken out. But Xichun doesn't do that. She doesn't kill him, or try to capture him, even though she's clearly aware that their Family is actively looking for him.

In a way, she's similar to Hong Lu in that she's never entirely straightforward with how she feels about things. She often puts on some sort of facade to hide the true meaning of her words, just in her case it's a mask of hostility, likely to defend herself in her position.

There's two moments in particular I feel that exemplify this by alluding to how Xichun actually feels towards Hong Lu, beneath her anxieties and prey animal rage.

The first one is this.

I've already gone at length about this scene from Hong Lu's perspective, how the thought of being an embarrassment to someone else in his Family causes him to shut down and default to trying to nod along and speed through the conversation as fast as possible. However, I think Xichun's response here is likewise notable.

Because she almost immediately backs up. It feels almost as if she's lamenting that he's still dealing with such situations as badly as he did back at home, and after giving one more 'jab' (one that you could even read as a backhanded form of assurance that she is in fact safe for him to be around), she takes the hint and ends the conversation.

The second one is the exchange that leads to them parting ways.

This is perhaps the most obvious Xichun has ever been about her own worries for Hong Lu. She's very visibly showing concern and outright anxiety over the thought that Hong Lu isn't taking things seriously and putting himself in danger. And then I believe she realized why that is.

If you've seen any of my analyses and theories, you know that I'm a firm believer that Hong Lu lied about the reason why he left the Jia household, and that in reality he's a runaway. This moment here is I believe the moment Xichun realizes that he ran away as well, and as such his goal is completely different from hers. As Hong Lu himself later states, "The path diverges, and we must each take the other trail."

After that exchange she continues to show concern for him, if somewhat indirectly.

I don't think she's saying this just to give advice on what Donqui/Sancho might be feeling at the moment. I believe she's implying that she's recognising that Hong Lu himself might be or at some point have been in a similar situation, and is thus attempting to empathize with him. Hong Lu's response here feels like he's taken the hint and is confirming it, clearly speaking from a much more personal place and experience.

And then, of course, is the moment they split up.

Another one of Xichun's backhanded assurances. She might sound rude here, but the essence of what she's saying is clear here. She will come back for him and maybe even support him.

So, yeah! Hong Lu not only cares about Xichun, but has every reason to! She's clearly one of the few Family members he has that actually seems to care about him in return! Even if it is buried underneath her harsh demeanor.

And regarding the one scene you bring up, well, I might as well repeat my own full interpretation of it now that we've gained more insight into Hong Lu after the check-up intervallo.

Note how Hong Lu directly interrupts Gregor here. I believe Hong Lu here is reacting very emotionally, effectively snapping at Gregor for what he implied. Part of it I believe is the implication that the death of a loved one would hold any substantial meaning to Hong Lu, something he is extremely philosophically opposed to due to viewing all kinds of death as meaningless.

But the other part of it is, well, that the thought of someone he loved dying in front of his eyes brings up memories he doesn't want to acknowledge. So he snaps back with as straightforward an answer as he can come up with so as to not give himself the time to dwell on the idea. Because it sure is suspicious he has yet to mention the one other person in his household that is ought to be very amicable towards him, no?

[rizzoreads88]

✨Reasons why I Think Gwyn isn’t getting her own POV✨

1) We already know so much about her.

In acosf we get a ton of information about Gwyn. We get her reveal of her deep rooted trauma, how it affects her and her starting to overcome her fear. We also get background info on her lineage. We learn alot of about her personality and we see her start to really grow. If she was getting her own POV SJM would have saved most of that for her story and her POV. Let’s look at Lidia and Yrene for example. We got little bits and pieces of info about them before their POV but we didn’t get to learn their true story or traumas until their pov. We see them start to grow and overcomes their pasts through their pov. Let’s contrast that with characters like Asterin & Fenrys. They are strong supporting characters but we got their trauma and start of their growth from Manon & Aelins POVs. We got their feelings about what they went through, through someone else’s POVS. Just like we did for Gwyn.

2) She is not tied to the over arching plot.

Gwyn has never even met Feyre, the main character to the story. Gwyn is tied to the Valkyries and to Nesta but not to the over arching plot. Let’s look at Yrene for example. Yrene came in in Assassins blade in Aelins storyline. She was directly tied to the over arching plot through Aelin and being a healer. Now contrast that with Asterin. Asterin was important in Manons story and she was tied to the 13. While a important character in Manons story she was not tied to the over arching plot. Just like Gwyn is important to Nesta and the Valkyries.

3) There was no hints to her in Hofas.

When SJM is bringing in a new main character she leaves little hints leading up to it before we get there. Again Yrene we got hints to her in assassins blade and aelin remembers the healer she met then at different times, Lidia had building up since the first CC book. Now since Gwyn came in in Acosf the only other book she could have had some hints to is HOFAS. And we got absolutely nothing for her. Which honestly suprised me regardless because this would have been the PERFECT time to give a little something something about Gwyn seeing as this was the world crossover and Gwyn had been working with Merrill studying the possibility of other worlds.

If you go but SJMS writing style it doesn’t seem likely Gwyn is getting her own POV. I know anti elriels like to try and equate Gwyn to Yrene but Gwyn is acotars Asterin. Both great characters and important as supporting characters but we get their story through someone else POV. If Acotar was written in multiple POVs (3+ POVs per book at times)like TOG or Crescent city then I could see maybe but since SJM has said the last 2 remaining books & Novella will be focused on 2 different couples I don’t think it’s likely Gwyn who is the newest character, is not tied to the over arching plot and has already had a growth arc is going to get one of those.

[2neaky]

“𝑿𝒊𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒂’𝒔 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓”

— MDNI -> WARNING: s*xual content, cursing, cheating, physical violence (minor), original characters, not proof-read

Something quick to post while I’m finishing up my Ony fic.

The slither of his spine and hips is smooth, slow, controlled. Yet, it’s strong enough to dig a guttural sound out of her. Her body bares down on him, stunned by the power behind every stroke.

He takes a hot, sweaty thigh of hers tight, hoping his grip is tight enough that it stops his hand from trembling so noticeably. He hikes her leg up higher on his bare waist.

She tosses her head away, screaming out something as he continues to dig. Digging deeper and deeper, searching for something so close, yet so far.

He pushes his face deeper into her neck. Maybe he was hoping for a cover to stifle any sound that may fall out of his mouth.

But as his eyes squeeze shut and he holds his breath, he thinks that maybe he’s trying to forget who’s beneath him.

“Jai—” Xiomara groans out.

Her naturally sultry voice reminds him. Freshly done acrylics, that he paid for, ruin the already bruised skin on his back.

“Oh sh— … oh shit … shit…”

His breathless chants grow heavier. It takes everything in him to drag a hand up to the headboard for support.

Her other leg comes around his waist, anchoring him like a ball and chain. “Yes! Give it to me, baby! Fuuuck—”

Moans and yells only grew louder, nearly deafening him. He snaps his hips harder, losing the control and strength he had to go slow.

She peers up at him through teary eyes and fucked up lashes. His eyes are still closed.

A groan rumbles his chest, it’s the loudest he’s been since they’ve started. She squeezes around him tighter, just to hear it again.

His shoulders hunch—all the muscles in his body tense. The air in his throat caught. He released her leg to grip the headboard with both hands.

“Mmh—f-fuck Shey—”

He doesn’t hear the sound she makes when his orgasm hits him. But, she can feel him unravel, shooting off inside of her as his muscles go lax.

His head hangs between his shoulders, his arms shaking as he continues to hold himself up. Her dark brown eyes search his face for an answer of some kind.

And for a while, the only sounds in this room is the gentle huffs of their panting. She swallows thickly, almost too scared to move.

“What did you call me?”

He peels his eyes open, and his dark gaze immediately falls on her face. “What?”

The word comes out hushed and mumbles. He couldn’t even open his mouth to enunciate it.

“What … the fuck did you just call me?”

Confusion creases his brows. His mouth bends around the first letter of the word “what,” but before he gets to say it—

“The fuck did you just call me, Jai?” She shoots up in bed, shoving him in his chest.

He falls back on his knees, glaring at her with wide eyes. “Wha—I ain’t call you nothing—”

“Who the fuck is Shey?”

The change in his face is so tiny. A simple ease in his brows. But she sees it all the same.

“I didn’t …” His eyes dart all over her face, searching for a hint of a joke. “I … what?”

“Who the fuck is Shey?” she yells.

A new rush of adrenaline makes his heart race.

“I didn’t—I didn’t say Shey—”

“Yes, you did!”

Her pale brown skin flushes with anger.

“No, I—I said Xo—”

Before he could feel it, he hears the sharp crack of her hand against his cheek.

“Do I look fucking stupid? Do you take me for a—“she hits him again, he blocks it this time—“fucking joke?”

“Get off! Get the fuck off my bed!”

Stumbling out of the tangle of sheets, he gets on unsteady feet to throw his clothes on.

“You—you leave me for a fucking year, you don’t answer my fucking calls—my fucking texts—and then you come back to New York pretending like you wanna see me!”

Her mouth runs a mile a minute, speaking so fast that she stumbles and trips over words. Her accent is even more pronounced.

As she rambles, she shields her body with the Versace robe she’d answered the door for him in. The one he bought her.

All the while, he keeps quiet, trying to process the entire situation as it falls apart in front of him.

“—I told you I fucking loved you! I loved you, and you don’t even say shit back!”

Her voice scratches, and her body trembles.

“Xo—”

“Don’t—don’t fucking talk to me!”

Huffing, she turns away from him, but he already knows that she’s only wiping the tears from her eyes.

“So … stupid,” she whined, a short cry following suit.

“Xo, I didn’t—“

“Who is she?”

She whipped around to look at him. Her wide eyes were overflowing pools, boring into his own. But her brows are pulled together, and upper lip curls into a scowl.

He only stares, dumbfounded. He can’t even think of anything to say.

“Answer. Me.”

His heart hammers in his chest. Breathing so fast, he can’t help the dizzy feeling running through him.

“She….”

“She what?”

“She’s … a friend—“

“Get—“she snatched up a pillow—“get out!”

Repeatedly, she beats him with it. Shielding himself, he was only backed further and further out of her room. All the way to the front door.

“I—aye! Xo—“

“Get the fuck out!”

Pulling open the door, she shoves him out of her apartment and shuts the door in his face.

This was bad. Really fucking bad. Although, what might’ve been worse was the name he moaned out ... and that he left his gun on her coffee table.

“Shit.”

Taglist: @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @The_goatedaries

[kpopsexstories]

You absolutely must continue the story of jisung!!

Finally! Jisung's mind-blowing sex with Haechan's sister is coming 😍🥵🎉

I am SO excited for this coming week! Not only are we already revisiting Jisung's sexual relationship with Haneul, Haechan's twin sister, but the final story in the Quick Fix Gay series Season 1 is coming!

Jisung & Haechan's Sister

They hooked up when NCT Dream were touring in the Philippines and she came with her family to support her brother. Then two turbulent years passed in which Jisung matured from a boy to a man. Finally they reunited and a new sexual spark was formed – a story I haven't written but which is left to your imagination.

Now they can't stay away from each other. Her pussy is like a magnet drawn to his dick. Grown up, experienced and eager to hook up again, she travels to Seoul for what promises to be a "mind-blowing" sexual encounter.

So yes, as requested I'm happy to continue this storyline. The next story about Jisung and Haneul (which comes out tomorrow) is about that visit of hers. I'm very pleased with how the sex scene turned out in it and hope you will be too. I know Jisung is 😏

Because of the length of this story I'm dividing it into three parts. Part 1 and 2 will be out this week, on Monday and Tuesday respectively (February 3rd & 4th, 2025). That's where the sex happens.

Part 3 is a post-sex moment when they're caught by Haechan and the other members – again, I might add, since the same thing happened in the Philippines – and that part will be out on Monday the following week.

Quick Fix Gay: Late night sex with Haechan

Someone noticed I had a gay story about BTS Taehyung and Jimin listed as a future story on Story Finder, among a bunch of other gay Quick Fix stories that haven't been posted yet. They were looking forward to it so I immediately jumped to make that the final story of the first season of Quick Fix Gay 🙂

But one problem: Upon reading the story again to prepare it for publication next week, I realized it's not ready to be posted! I care about quality and this one doesn't live up to the standard I aim for.

So instead, I'll make you a deal: You get a Haechan story this Thursday instead, and I'll rework the Taehyung & Jimin story into something even better. It's an already written story so you will get it, I just need more time to polish it 🙂 Maybe I'll even extend it and release it as a one-shot with a little more fluff.

The Haechan story is an x male reader late night sex scene, with soft body touches and missionary sex. It's short and sweet and I really like the way it turned out. It's also a response to a request for more gay Haechan content.

After the Haechan story the Quick Fix Gay series will take a break. I don't yet have enough material to start Season 2 but I am slowly working on it.

I do, however, have plenty of longer gay one-shots lined up, several of which will be out in the weeks that follow. I'll try to make the Taehyung & Jimin story one of them, but you also have a lot of other stuff to look forward to! 😉

[pompeiiiiiisaidso]

(Trying to lure Batclan/Batfam fans over to the Green Lantern fandom, day 1)

What rings I think each Batclan / Batfam members would have:

First, a quick rundown of each different colour:

Red: Embodies the emotion of rage / anger. Once the ring is in the user's finger it fills them with a murderous rage, that they only snap out of once they bathe in a sea of blood. They can't take the ring out, since it has replaced their heart and the user's blood with lava that they can spit out. They can't usually make constructs.

Orange: Embodies greed, but is not getting mentioned in the list because there is only one user.

Yellow: The user has to inspire great fear. Scarecrow has been offered one, I'm pretty sure. They get to make constructs.

Green: Strength of will. The originals. The middle of the spectrum. Green Arrow has used one in the past and was only able to conjure a single arrow with all his will, and it left him completely exhausted and out of commission. Users have to overcome great fear. They also get constructs.

Blue: Hope. They're mostly support (principally for the Green Lanterns), so their offense is not exactly great, but they can overcharge other people's rings and just overall make them stronger. Also, the only way you can take a red power ring off is by putting a blue one in its place immediately. Constructs positive.

Indigo: Compassion. They are made up of assassins and killers who have decided to change their ways and repent. Good vibes all around. Live laugh make constructs.

Magenta (Violet? Pink? Purple? I'm not sure honestly): The Star Sapphires represent love of all kinds. The second of this list to appear in comics, debuted by Carol Ferris, Hal Jordan's love interest at the time. They are all women, but men can also gain this title, as seen by Guy Gardner's brief experience as one.

Bruce: Has canonically been offered a Yellow Power Ring before (War of the Rings, volume 2). He has also been stated to be incapable of wielding a Green Ring due to his inability to surpass his greatest fears and regrets (namely, his parents' death) (Green Lantern #9, 2004)

Dick: Would have a Red Ring during his venture as Robin, and got offered a Blue one when he shed that mantle and took on Nightwing, to his great relief

Babs: She'd be a Green Lantern as Batgirl, and would give up the title after the Joker Incident. She would regret it deeply afterwards, but would stop once she got a Blue ring at around the same time she decided that if she couldn't fight alongside them, she'd be the eyes and ears that support the rest of the Hero Community. And so Oracle was born, though maybe in this universe she'd be Blue

Cass: As a general rule of thumb, children don't usually gain a Power Ring, so I while I don't think she'd have one as the One Who Is All, if she did it would be Yellow. Teenagers, on the other hand, have been known to wield a Ring, so I think she'd have either an Indigo, for her past state as a killer, or she'd have a Magenta(?) ring for all the love she has for her family

Jason: Maybe he'd be Blue while Robin. I don't really know, I haven't read enough of Jaybin to be able to pinpoint his exact ring. It'd be a cute little thing, maybe offering Jason a Hope Ring would be Dick's initiation process and offer both the closure and bond they needed at the time. He wouldn't have one as the Red Hood, mainly because he'd remember Dick's suffering and loss of control of his consciousness due to the Red Ring, and that was one of the only ones that presented itself to him at the time. The other one was the Yellow, and he didn't have the strength to have the same Ring as Bruce at the time. He'd then get an Indigo Power Ring somewhere during his healing process, and depending on what you go with Cass it could be angst material, since last I checked she didn't exactly like Jason because of his purposeful and spontaneous killing

Steph: Would start out with a Green Power Ring and maintain it to the end, though she would keep joking about how she wished she had a Love Ring to fit her theme better. She secretly would be very proud to be considered worthy of being a Green Lantern when Batman didn't think her worthy of being a Robin, and keep that title even during her darkest moments. Her and Kilowog got along like a house on fire, by the way

Tim: As the most like Bruce and unlike him at the same time, I feel he'd either have a Yellow or Green Ring, no in-between. During the Brucequest, he'd either gain a Green one, if he hadn't already, or a Blue one for all the blind Hope he demonstrated. He'd get very emotional once it finally sunk in that despite it all he was still considered pure enough to share a Ring colour with his hero

Duke: My heart wants to say he'd get a Fear ring to maintain his yellow theme, but I know it wouldn't be so. I also want to say that he'd get a Blue due to him being a Signal of Hope to the people of Gotham, but something in me doesn't feel it is right to put Duke, the only super powered bat, with the Ring meant for Support. Duke would get a Green Ring for all his resilience and Strength of Will and for his ability to not only overcome great fear, but inspire the same fire in other people around him.

Damian: Once again, children don't normally wield a Power Ring, and even if they did the League doesn't strike me as a Lantern friendly space, so Damian's ring would come in during his time as Robin. He'd await a Yellow one, as “is his birthright as the blood son” in his own words, so it would be a bit surprising (for him) when he didn't get any. Everyone saw it coming, but no one had the heart to tell him. He'd try to grow around it after some time, but it would still be a bit of a sore spot. His ring would come when he least expects it, as he's calming down a spooked citizen, or helping a hurt animal, and he'd jump in front of whoever he was with to protect them from whatever had caused the loud noise. Damian absolutely cried when he realised it was a Power Ring. He'd get either a Blue, which matches with Richard and that alone would make it Damian's pride and joy, or an Indigo, which makes a lot of sense to his character growth and interests for the future as hinted at by recent comics

[our-queer-experience]

Sorry for the rent I just realised something and thought someone out there might relate

Coming out as non-binary to my mom who loves me and I love her was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my life. She said she accepted me. She won't let me get a binder no matter what and will probably get angry if I try to talk about not like my birth name

My dad said he's fine with me being panromantic and that he'll accept my partner as long as I'm happy. His mood goes sour when I talk about the possibility of marrying a girl but brushes it off every time. Mom said he secretly doesn't approach, at least most likely

When I came out to my friends as non-binary and asked them to use another name they said cool sure and try to do it as much as possible. My girlfriend hugged me and let me cry when I came out because of how much I was shaking. When I told her about being ace, She even told her parents about my name and her mom knows I'm non-binary. She hugged me the first time I came over

What I'm trying to say is just because your family doesn't support you it doesn't mean no one else will. You can never know when or where you'll find such a person or people. And that's a reason to keep on carrying on. Queerness is beautiful in all its shapes and forms and one day someone (maybe even you) will make you feel like it

🫂

[angstywaifu]

I Only Want You - Liam Mairi

Request: Liam Mairi fic (smut) where he is the readers first time and he’s super sweet when she gets a little nervous or shy? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Fingering. Unprotected P in V. Readers first time.

Masterlist | Support Me

Ever since battle brief and the comment I had made, I had felt Liam’s eyes on me all day. Every time I met his gaze he didn’t look away. He’d look at me as if he was trying to figure something out. Like if there had been a hidden meaning in my words. And there had been.

Ever since I’d laid eyes on Liam I had been attracted to him. He was easily one of the most attractive riders in the quadrant in my opinion. And I knew a lot of other girls thought that with how they looked at him. Especially in gym or challenges. The way he moved and handled himself, it was like an art form. An art form I’m sure translated to his skills in bed. My room was just up from his, and at least once or twice a week I would catch a girl sneaking out or in. Usually the same girls, but occasionally I would see someone different.

But I had never dare hinted I wanted to see what it was like. I didn’t want to risk the friendship we had. Liam and I had hit it off almost immediately after I very nearly kicked his butt in the first day of challenges when we had been paired up. He eventually got the better of me and won. But after he pulled me up from the mat and introduced himself, we’d been close friends since. But now it felt like we were at a turning point in our friendship after my comment.

“One time! It’s happened one time, Rhi!” Violet says loudly as I join my squad and take my place next to Rhiannon.

*“Right. And what would you call that whole thing with Tynan?” Rhiannon asks in a sassy tone that nearly has me laughing.

”Threshing.” Violet says in a way to try shrug it off.*

*“And what about Barlowe’s constant threats?” I ask as I lean around Rhiannon with a smirk on my face. Liam shakes his head at me, knowing I’m just fuelling the fire now.

”They’re just threats. The only time I’ve actually been targeted was at night, and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.”*

*He pauses his wood carving as he shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, I’m not opposed-”

”Don’t even start.” Violet whips her head towards Liam. “You are a shameless flirt.”

His usually cocky grin spreads across his face. “Thank you.”*

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Rhiannon leans back in her chair and laughs. “Don’t mind her, she’s just sexually frustrated. Makes a girl crabby.” Adds as she starts writing in her book.

“That has nothing to do with it.” Violet mutters.

“And yet I don’t hear you denying it.” Rhiannon adds with a sweet smile.

“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut.” Liam says teasingly.

“Maybe not for her.” I add a little too flirtatiously, causing Liam’s eyes to snap to me as I sink back into my chair trying to hide behind Rhiannon as my cheeks flush bright red. Shit.

I yet again felt his eyes on me as I walked into the dining hall. As my eyes scan the hall I find him sitting with Xaden, Garrick and Bodhi. All of whom are looking at me then back at Liam before laughing at him. Were they talking about me? Surely not. I tear my gaze from them and grab some food for dinner before walking over to Imogen and Rhiannon who were the only ones in our squad at our usual table. Both of them going silent as I take seat next to Imogen and slowly pick at my food.

“You ok? You’ve been super quiet since battle brief?” Rhiannon asks as I roll a potato around my plate.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I tell her as I look up at her. Behind her I see Liam and Xaden looking over at me.

“Regretting the comment you made to Liam about sex?” Rhiannon teases me as Imogen’s head whips towards me.

“Clearly I need to sit closer to you first years in battle brief. What did you say to him?” She asks a she props her head up on her arm as she looks at me, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Violet made a comment about missing sex, and the boys started being well boys and Violet shot them down, then this one her pipes up and says to Liam maybe he’d make the cut for someone else. Gods I’ve never seen those boys eyes go as wide as they did when those words left her mouth.” Rhiannon informs Imogen.

“And he’s been avoiding me ever since. Successfully ruined that friendship.” I say sarcastically as I finally stab the potato on my plate.

“And yet his eyes have not left you once since battle brief.” She adds sternly.

“Wait, you haven’t hooked up with him?” Imogen asks as her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Wait, you think Liam and I have slept together?”

She shrugs. “I mean with the way he looks at you and follows you around. Hell no guy goes anywhere near you because of him, and trust me they’ve tried. Even poor Bodhi over there wanted to have a shot with you before Liam sternly told him to look elsewhere.”

I shake my heat at them. “Trust me, not been there or done that. Not with anyone. And he doesn’t see me that way.”

Both girls look at me like I’ve told them the skies as pink as Imogen’s hair.

”Wait, you’re a virgin?” Rhiannon asks, lowering her voice so only I can hear her.

I nod. “Yes, and he definitely wont want to be with someone who has no experience/”

“You girl are so blind and oblivious.” Imogen states bluntly.

“I am not. If he wanted to be with me he would’ve tried. And he hasn’t. And I don’t want to be added to the list of girls he brings back to his room every other night.” I say a little too angrily.

“And also jealous apparently.” Imogen adds with a smirk.

“Am not.”

”Then how many girls are there?” Rhiannon asks.

I purse my lips together. And it’s all the answer they need from me to prove their point. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not the one girl kind of guy. And I don’t want to be on a list. It ain’t happening.”

“Maybe you just need to shoot your shot? What’s the worst that could happen?” Imogen adds so casually.

”I ain’t wrecking the friendship more than I have already. It will all be fine in a few days. He’ll sleep with someone and forget all about it.”

”I don’t know, that boys eyes have barely left you since you walked in and sat down. I say just go for it.” She adds before turning her attention back to her food.

I look up and immediately meet Liam’s blue eyes. I feel like he’s staring into my soul. As if trying to read my mind and intentions behind that comment. I shove my barely touched plate of food away before walking out of the dining hall and back to my room. I’m glad neither Rhiannon or Imogen try to follow me. Clearly deemed I’d had enough teasing for the evening. But in my hurry to leave, and my mind elsewhere. I don’t hear another set of feet following me, running to catch up. It’s not till they call out to me, that my blood runs cold with dread and my heart starts beating at a rapid pace.

“Y/N, wait up!” Liam calls behind me.

Only one more corridor and I can hide in my room for the night. Hide and deal with this tomorrow. I push my legs faster hoping my pace is faster than his. But it isn’t, and his hand grasp my wrist and spins me towards him. His other hand reaching out to steady me as I collide with his very solid muscular chest beneath his tight fitting black linen shirt. Too embarrassed to look him in the eye, I keep my eyes focused on the ground. He goes to grab my chin to raise my head but I tilt my head to the side and avoid his grip. I don’t have to know his eyes are furrowed at me right now. I’ve never avoided him touching me like that. Like I hated being close to him.

”Can you look at me?” He asks softly, his hand falling to his side.

I keep my eyes firmly on the floor. “What do you want Liam?”

”I want you to look at me Y/N. I want you to talk to me and not ignore me like I’m the plague like you have since battle brief.”

Anger flairs in me and has my eyes flicking up to his in an instant. “You weren’t exactly doing much better.” I snap.

He chuckles at me. “There she is.” I roll my eyes and go to leave, but he reaches out again and grasps my wrist.

I turn back and face him, watch as he swallows slowly, nervously. His eyes darting over me. Liam was nervous. Something I could say I had never seen him be.

“Are you ok?” I ask quietly.

”That comment you made today. In battle brief.” I gulp. Shit. “Did you mean you when you made that comment?”

I roll my eyes. “Heaps of girls want to be with you Liam, you know that.” I say trying to dodge the questions as I look down at my hands.

”That’s not what I asked.” He pleads, his fingers grasping my chin and forcing my eyes back to him. My breath catches in my throat at the intensity in his gaze “Did you mean you?”

His voice is almost pleading. Like, like he wanted my words to mean me. That I wanted him. That he would make the cut for me. That I would let him in.

”And what if I did? What if I was meaning me?” I ask quietly as I take a cautious step closer and place a hand on his chest as his hand moves from my chin to cup my cheek.

”Then we might need to go somewhere else if you did sweetheart.”

Gods I could have melted at the huskiness in his voice.

”I’m not being another girl on your list. It’s not what I want. And….”

“And what?” He asks, leaning down towards me.

”I’m…. I’ve never been with anyone. Ever.” I confess, averting my eyes from his.

”You would be the only girl on my list if you meant you. I only want you.” His voice so soft and gentle as his thumb runs over my cheek.

I look back up at him, his blue eyes piercing into mine. ”Then yes. I did mean me.”

I gasp as Liam backs me into my closed door, my legs locking around my waist as he kisses me, so soft and gentle as if testing the waters. He bites my lip before pushing his tongue into my mouth when I gasp at the sensation. His hands push under my shirt, his fingers skimming up and down my sides. I moan into his mouth as his grip around my waist tightens. His weight pushing me back into the door. I instinctively wind my fingers into his hair, as I tug I feel the moan rumble from his chest before he removes his lips from mine and rests his forehead on mine.

“Do that again.” He whispers against my lips.

I smile and do as he says, tugging on his blonde hair. I watch as his eyes darken and flare with desire. He walks backwards from the door, placing me back on my feet as he pushes the jacket from my arms and tugs on the bottom of my shirt. I raise my arms and he’s quick to discard of the material before removing his own. I go to trace the relic on his arm, but he kneels and starts to remove my boots, followed by my pants and underwear. He slowly stands back up, kissing his way back up my leg, sending shivers through my body. As he stands to his full height, he quickly removes his pants, exposing himself to me. He chuckles as I take him in. All of him.

Neither of us speaks, not wanting to break the moment. Liam grabs my hand and pulls me with him as he sits down on desk chair, guiding my legs either side of him. I go to sit but his hands hold me up by my waist. One of his hands slowly moves down, his fingers lightly caressing my skin as he makes his way between my legs. My hands grasps his shoulders as a moan rips from my throat as he inserts to fingers into me, my eyes closing as my head rolls back. He curls his fingers inside me, hitting the perfect spot, causing my to jump forward a little, but Liam’s hand keeps me steady as he chuckles at my reaction. He slowly slips his fingers from me as I groan at the loss. Liam’s hand comes up and cups my cheeks, my eyes opening to meet his.

“You ready?” He asks me, eyes blown wide with lust, but looking at me like I am the most precious thing in the world.

I look down at him. Gods I’m nervous. But I wanted him. I wanted him so badly. And now all embarassment and regret from making that comment in battle brief was gone. Because now I had Liam sitting below me, looking at me like I’m his everything.

I nod. “I’m ready.”

My eyes go wide as he stretches me open. It takes all my will power to keep my eyes open and looking at him. They risk fluttering shut but I force them open. My fingernails dig into Liam’s shoulder, definitely leaving marks as he lowers me slowly onto him. Eventually he sheaths himself inside me as I sit in his lap, a moan rippling through me and him.

He leans back in the chair as best as he can, as he starts to thrust slowly up and down. Each thrust pulling sounds I didn’t know were possible to come out of me as I clench around him. Every time i clench around him his fingers dig into my waist. His lips meet my neck, pressing light kisses and bites as he moves his way down my neck. As my fingers slip back into his hair and tug, he bites down hard causing me to yelp.

Liam thrusts up into me as he wraps his arms around my waist as he stands up, keeping himself inside me as he walks over to the bed and lays me down. He hitches my legs over his shoulders, immediately making me moan with out even moving. The position of my legs now having him hit a completely different angle in me. He smirks at me as I squirm under him. His hands find their place either side of my head as he leans forward and thrust into me. This time I am unable to keep my eyes on him as they roll back and flutter close. Liam clearly forgotten about the command he had given me as I clench around him and his pace picks up.

My hands reach up and pull Liam’s lips down to mine in a passionate kiss that is a fight for dominance. Each of us biting at our lips, our tongues fighting, Eventually Liam wins as my fingers run down his chest. He moves one of his hands to raise my hips, my eyes flying open at the new angle as Liam rests his forehead against mine as he stares into my eyes. A silent command to keep my eyes on him as we finish. With the rate I’m clamping down around him, he knows I’m close. Liam shifts his balance on his legs, his hand not raising my hips moving to my most sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately I come undone beneath him. His name rolling off my lips, mine soon tumbling off his as he finishes as well.

In one swift movement Liam rolls to his side, pulling me with him and cradling me against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head as his fingers trace up my thigh and back, lulling me into sleep. Liam must sense me dozing off in his arms as he pulls the blanket over us, his arms tightening around me as I doze off into the best sleep I’ve ever had.

[quillusquillus]

How 2 Phone

I often see my fellow neurodivergent and/or younger friends absolutely crippled by the inability to make even simple phone calls, and it was perplexing to look at myself and find that for the most part- despite all traits indicating I SHOULD struggle with this too (as I struggle deeply with in-person convos)- I do not. Then I realised that this is because at a very young age my mum sat me down and TAUGHT me how to do it, step by step, so I'm going to relay what she taught me and hope it will help somebody the way it helped me.

DISCLAIMER: this was learned originally in the context of the UK and it's something I still use effectively for german calls in Switzerland. I don't know what americans do maybe they have secret phone codes I don't know, adapt as needed I guess

---

First thing to remember is that, if you are calling some kind of office or support or business or organisation of any kind: they are doing this ALL DAY, even if you fuck up as spectacularly as it's possible to fuck up and stumble over every single word, you are still just a blip in their workday of many many many calls. they will not care.

Second thing to remember is that because they're doing these calls all day, all they actually want from you is the information to complete the task you give them. You don't have to be a ~conversationalist~ or even particularly friendly. Generally speaking you can just apply the following template to every call, and just be a very basic level of not-rude and say your thankyous and that's all you need

Third thing: Though not necessary, it's useful to develop a "phone voice" where you sit up straight and speak extra clearly and brightly, like you're in a theatre play. This makes you easy for the other person to understand (especially on bad lines), and reminds you that it's all a repetitive sequence of lines like a script and this is NOT a social situation.

THE TEMPLATE:

(a possible step 0 is getting through the auto line, which is just pushing buttons so I'm gonna assume we've got through that already as well as the deep fried hold music and a real person has now answered the phone)

"Hello, my name is [firstname lastname] and I'm calling because [reason]." --- Reason for this step: they need your name because they need to know how to address you on the call, and telling them the context for the call will help them know what to do next. They too have "templates" and have usually done them many many times, they just need to know which one they need to select for this call. I say this exact phrase the same way every time I make a call like this: a strong opener can help your confidence and you can practice it off call if you like. Don't treat it like a conversation, just say the whole thing and move to step 2

Stop and wait for instructions and/or questions --- Reason for this step: Now it's the other person's turn to figure things out, and you are in the passive role. This is when you get asked things like customer number, date of birth, doctor's name etc., all the things that they need to look up on their computer. This will go on until they have all the details they need and then they will move to the next step.

They will ask you again about your reason for calling, answer in exactly the same way as before or go into greater detail as needed. --- Reason for this step: The first time you did this was like the movie trailer that let them vaguely know what to expect, this one is where you have their full attention and they will begin to handle your task. You didn't mess up the first time they just needed to get all their questions out of the way first and are now clear for your queries.

More details, figuring out stuff, getting transferred --- This is the most chaotic and unpredictable step because it will be different for every call and varies depending on what you're trying to do. Good luck, and repeat steps 2 and 3 as needed (or start again from 1 if you get transferred)

When done, they will ask you "is there anything else I can help you with?" --- Reason for this step: Sometimes people will call with several things they want to do at once (open a credit card account AND check their balance, for example) and so this is part of their call template. Feel free to give this a few seconds of consideration: I like to pretend to think even when I know I have nothing, because sometimes I DO randomly think of a question I'd like to ask, or it's just a nice cooldown moment to gather my thoughts. A common question I find myself asking is "do I need to bring anything?" for when I make appointments. 99.9% of the time I don't need to bring anything, but having the confirmation of "no, you don't" gives me some extra peace of mind.

"Okay, thank you very much, have a nice day!" --- Reason for this step: This lets them know that you're going to end the call, and they'll respond in kind and (usually) hang up first. Sometimes they may jump in with a "you may receive a rating form/call/whatever to rate the service you received on this call", just let them get this out of the way (they are required to say it), say "okay, thank you, I will!" and repeat your goodbye a second time. This closing farewell is another thing you can say exactly the same way every time, and you can practice off call if you like.

That's it! In my experience very very few official phonecalls will deviate from this format, and even if the person on the other end is being unusual you can generally just barge ahead and impose it on them and they will fall in line lol

[motleyfam]

PLEASE COULD WE MAYBE GET LIKE A VIBE OF WHAT THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF SETTLE OUR BONES IS GOING TO BE ABOUT NO PRESSURE JUST CURIOUS

The vibe is it’s kicking my ass 😂

[kindaasrikal]

Morro’s last line in Ninjago was “You can only save those who want to be saved. Goodbye, Sensei.”

And the scene right mf after was THIS

HIM REACHING OUT.

REACHING OUT FOR WU.

Morro didn’t want to be saved. He was far too tired and far too uncaring at that point to have the will to live again. But he wanted a second chance. He wanted to do more. He wanted to have his choices matter and he wanted to leave on a better note and he desperately wanted to ignore that small part inside of him forcing him to keep his arm up, to keep reaching forward for something he doesn’t deserve again.

Something he didn’t deserve, and couldn’t get, again.

[someobscurereference]

Insane over the awakening trio again. We fought a war together, saved each other multiple times, and I know for a fact I can trust you with my life. We have never learned to socialize normally so we can't interact in a normal environment for five seconds without dunking on each other. I would follow you through time and space and abandon everything with you. You are the living reminder of every awful thing that have ever happened to me. Our traumas make us hurt each other at every turn. We're the only ones who know what lead to each other becoming Like That. Our jobs are barely in the same area and we don't even hang out that much outside of necessities. You are all I have left. I cannot fucking understand you. I am the only one in this entire world who has the ability to even try to.

x

[theyonapodcast]

I love the first time Soo-Won supports Lili.

It feels like an overreaction to burst into tears over, essentially, "Go for it," but makes sense when you realize no one takes her seriously.

Her father, Tetora, and even Yona view her as someone in need of protection. They coddle her.

And then here comes Soo-Won, telling her she's capable of making a difference.

That she did make a difference. He acknowledges her strength and believes in her with ease while people closer to her struggle to accept that she's useful.

[brofightiscancelled]

ok kind of an insane ask so feel free to ignore but would you be able to translate "友達バリア" by deco*27? i can't find any translations online and i wanna see if i'm right about the song kind of fitting the matsus... it's also a banger imo

- vocamatsu anon

omg.... tbh i have a feeling deco will make a video for this one which means we'll get an official english translation of it, rendering this completely redundant, but i'm really cheesed to have been asked, so i gave it a shot for you anyways <3

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown I'm outmatched- but it's not over yet! I won't let this end! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

The despair of never getting anything more of this Your behavior, nor what's going on in your head- I can't read it at all! I can't help but envy the kindness you radiate Omnidirectional compatibility- it's just not for me

Carefully-picked down-played words The outcome: A bloody heart True feelings double-crossed by embarrassment; how frustrating, I'm changing sides But that won't fill up my heart What I want is nothing more than to be by your side If you've got something to say, then say it- 'til I defeat you, that is! 3, 2, 1!

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown I'm outmatched- but it's not over yet! I won't let this end! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

I want you to like me! I want you to like me! Friend-zoned, love fire, hey, say "I give up"! With a dazzling, never-give-up attitude, I'll break through your defenses!

Fun things, good feelings- without you, they have no taste at all Sadness, jealousy- if they're cuz of you, then I don't mind them Let's throw down, bro! Better to regret doing it, than not doing it at all! A feeling like I won't need any special moves, YEAH I'm sure everything will be OKAY With an endless supply of love, you're undefeated, AYE Play dead, BYE BYE I'll be the one to throw the first punch

Friend-zoned, love fire, sparks flying HIBANA We're ready, set to lock horns, love's ultimate showdown The lonely and timid me is already no more! With a dazzling, blazing flair, I'll burn through your defenses!

Do you like me yet? Do you like me yet? Friend-zoned, love fire, now, let's immerse ourselves in love! With a dazzling, blazing flair, a never-ending HAO sweetener battle!

Do you like me yet? Do you like me yet? Friend-zoned, love fire, now, let's immerse ourselves in love! With a dazzling, blazing flair, a never-ending HAO sweetener battle!

------

my notes:

my overall interpretation of this song is "I'm trying to break through the friend zone (friendship barrier) so that you like me instead of thinking of me as a friend", so any vagueness in translation went in that direction

The use of "lock horns" in the official translation snippet + the HAO motifs give me the mental image of like, a hand-to-hand kung fu battle, so I leaned towards that imagery whenever there was vagueness (as opposed to like, a military campaign, for example)

deco's official english translations tend to be very liberal, so i tried to keep my translation a little more literal