#nothing gets one going like a good health talk

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 5

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

“Where’s Az?” Mor asked as Nesta and Cassian entered the dining room at the River House.

“Busy,” Cassian said with a shrug, as he pulled out the chair for his mate, greeting the rest of their family with a smile. 

Mor cocked her head, a small frown appearing on her face. "Busy?" she repeated, a note of curiosity in her voice. "What's he up to?"

Busy. That had been Azriel’s answer to nearly everything after Koshei. Busy.

Even quieter than usual. Keeping away from all of them…and Cassian still heard that one sentence echo in his head. Better me than you. Like somehow Cassians life was worth more than Azriel’s.

Azriel was just being noble and self-sacrificing as usual, right? Cassian knew that his brother didn't really think that way, didn't really believe that his life was worth less than anyone else's. But still, the words haunted him. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere, he had let Azriel down. That he hadn't been there when his brother had needed him the most.

Maybe he should have tried to talk to him...when it all went down… but then he hadn't realised what exactly was even going on, until Nesta had flatly laid it out for him one evening. Azriel had gotten over Mor only to fall in love with Elain...and that hadn't ended in his favour either.

Cassian grimaced just thinking about it. Azriel deserved to be happy. Azriel deserved a mate that loved him, a female that fucking adored him…and instead his brother had fallen not just for one, but two unavailable females. 

And Azriel hadn’t complained. Not once. He had never let it show.

He always kept his emotions hidden under that stoic mask of his, like he was afraid of letting anyone see how much he was hurting. Cassian knew that Azriel would never ask for help, that he would never admit that he needed someone to talk to. But that didn't mean that he didn't need it. 

Cassian just wished that he could find a way to get Azriel to open up, to let him in…that wouldn’t involve beating him to a bloody pulp. 

Azriel acted like everything was fine. Azriel acted like he didn't care. Cassian knew that it was a mask, knew that it wasn't the truth...but Azriel liked to pretend it was...and maybe it was better to let him pretend. 

It wasn't like he was hurting anybody with it, right? He was doing his work just as well as he always did...and if he wanted to spend his free time reading Sellyn Drake books, maybe they should just let him do that…maybe it made him feel better. 

"Maybe he's seeing his secret girlfriend," Cassian drawled.

Mor snorted at that suggestion. "Please," she said with a roll of her eyes. "As if Azriel would ever have time for a girlfriend, let alone a secret one."

"You would be surprised," Cassian muttered under his breath. Apparently Azriel had time for reading Sellyn Drake novels while locked into his room, after all. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mor wondered. "He has been...distant lately," she said with a pout.

Cassian could only stare at her. Mor couldn't be serious right now, could she?

Of course, Azriel was distant to her. Mor had fucking broken his heart and trampled on it to top it off. And Cassian had helped her with through the years. He probably owed Azriel an apology for that as well.

And still, Azriel hadn’t complained. Azriel hadn’t called them out. Azriel had taken it silently. Had even congratulated Mor when her Mating Bond with Emerie had snapped. Had been painfully polite, making painfully sure that he didn’t cross any lines, didn’t make Emerie uncomfortable in any way. 

"Just leave him be," Cassian said with a shrug. "He's reading Sellyn Drake novels, he'll be fine,” he waved her off. 

Rhys nearly spit his wine over the table and instead started coughing violently. "Azriel is reading Sellyn Drake novels?!" he asked Cassian with an incredious stare.

"Apparently he has trust in Nesta's taste of literature," Cassian answered easily.

Mor raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Sellyn Drake novels?" she repeated, eyeing Cassian like he had gone mad. "Since when does Azriel read those kinds of books? He's not exactly the...romantic type."

Or maybe there just never had been a single person that had appreciated that side of his brother. Who knew what Azriel actually was into. 

Elain and Mor weren’t similar in the slightest after all. 

Cassian shrugged. "Maybe he's expanding his horizons," he said with a grin. "Or maybe he just wants to see what the fuss is all about. After all, Sellyn Drake is...surprisingly good. Or so I've heard, anyway." He gave a sidelong glance to Nesta, who simply rolled her eyes at him.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rhys play absentmindedly with the stem of the wine glass. There was something there...between Rhys and Azriel that Cassian couldn't quite put his finger on. Some kind of tension...some kind of...something.

But lately, it had seemed like that tension had only been getting worse. Like they were both holding something back, like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop. Cassian couldn't help wondering what would happen when that tension finally snapped.

***

"Winnowing or flying?" Azriel asked Sky as they stepped out into the icy early winter air.

"I...I can't...fly?" Sky answered haltingly, looking at him with these devastating blue eyes. They were beautiful. Not a light blue, not a teal, not bordering on violet…just beautiful near cobalt blue. She probably would match his siphons, he reflected weakly. 

"I'll fly, I'll carry you," he gave back with a chuckle. She stared at him like he was insane, her cheeks reddening.

"I...I...you...can...can't carry me. I am too...heavy," she mumbled. Now it was his turn to stare at her.

Azriel couldn't help but scoff at that. "Too heavy?" he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm an Illyrian warrior,” he told her drily. “I could carry a full-grown male into battle if I had to,and I have dragged full-grown males off the battlefield…I can carry you.” 

Azriel couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Was she...was she seriously trying to tell him that she was too heavy for him to carry? She just so reached the middle of his chest! She definitely wasn't thin...her body was covered with soft flesh and lush curves, every inch of it soft and inviting...but even if she weighed twice her weight, he would easily be able to carry her. She would probably weigh next to nothing to him.

And yet, he could sense the insecurity in her voice, the way she didn't quite believe that he could carry her.

He stepped closer to her, placing his hand gently under her chin and tilting her head up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "You are beautiful," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. "And I don't care how much you weigh, I can carry you. I want to carry you. Because you are mine and I will always protect you, no matter what."

Her breath hitched at that, and he could see the warmth spreading through her cheeks as her heart began to race. She looked up at him with those stunning blue eyes of hers, her lips parted slightly in surprise and wonder. "You...you really mean that?" she whispered, her voice soft and shaky. "You...you don't mind how big I am?"

Azriel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, sweetheart, I don't mind," he said gently. "I think you are absolutely perfect just the way you are. And if I have to carry you to prove it, then that is what I will do." And without another word, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as easily.

She squeaked as they shot up in the sky and then she laughed, the sound bright and beautiful

They soared through the sky together, the wind blowing through their hair and clothes as they flew. The City of Starlight sprawled out beneath them, a beautiful tapestry of color and light. Azriel held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat pulsing in rhythm with his own. He knew that he could never tire of this feeling, of having her in his arms like this.

Sky looked up at him with a smile, her eyes shining with happiness and excitement. "I love this," she breathed.

How very fitting it was for the female that called herself Sky to love flying.

"Good," Azriel said softly, his voice full of warmth. "Because we can do this anytime you want, sweetheart."

They soared higher and higher, until the city below them was nothing but a sparkling sea of lights. Azriel was in his element up here, his wings powerful and graceful as they sliced through the air. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair, the cold night air stinging his skin. But he didn't mind, not with her in his arms. In fact, he felt more alive than he had in months. Years, even.

He flew a loping circle over Velaris, towards the Lake House the shadows had purchased and he thanked them mentally for their foresight. He couldn't very well bring Sky home to the House of Wind...but here...he could take her. It was private and safe...and if the expression of her face was anything to go by, she loved it.

He angled his body towards the Lake House, gliding towards it with expert precision. As they approached, Azriel saw the soft glow of the lights in the windows, the gentle sway of the curtains in the breeze. The lake glittered in the moonlight, the surface of the water undisturbed and serene. It was the perfect place to bring her, a place that he felt she would love just as much as he did.

"You live here?" she wondered, wonder in her voice as she took in the sight.

Azriel felt a warm swell of pride in his chest as he landed smoothly on the deck of the house. "Yes," he said simply, his eyes fixed on her face, watching as she marveled at the house. "I wanted a private place," he admitted. "Somewhere quiet and peaceful, where I could escape from the chaos of my life for a little while.I haven't been there long though, it’s still a work in progress…" he warned her. More like 2 hours before he had met her. "But I love it."

He set her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he stepped back. "Come on," he said softly, holding out his hand to her. "Let me show you inside."

The shadows skittered inside as soon as he opened the door, like a bunch of little busybodies, rightening the curtains there, fluffing pillows on the couch...It seemed to amuse Sky though. "You must ne...never have to deal with a mes...messy kitchen," she teased him

Azriel chuckled at that. "No, the shadows don't like when things are out of place,”  he admitted.

It wasn't a lie. But then he didn't like it either. 

Like a moth pulled to the flame, Sky was pulled towards his bookcases, fingertips tripping over the spines as she hungrily read the titles.

Azriel suddenly hoped that the shadows had put something other than Sellyn Drake novels in the bookcase, because otherwise he was going to look like a fucking stalker.

He watched with a mix of amusement and apprehension as she examined the bookshelves, his heart pounding in his chest. *Please,* he silently pleaded to the shadows, *please tell me you didn't leave those Sellyn Drake novels on the shelf.* Because if she saw those, it would be disastrous.

The shadows seemed weirdly frozen in place.

"You read Sel...Sellyn Drake?" Sky asked him, sounding delighted and shocked at the same time.

Azriel groaned inwardly, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. "I...yes, I do," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I...There is...I...I need to tell you something."

"Te...Tell me som...something?" Sky asked, turning towards him, these big beautiful eyes staring at him.

"I...It wasn't a coincidence that I was in that bar tonight," he told her, watching as she stared at him. "The shadows told me to go."

"The...The shad...shadows?" she asked him, looking utterly shocked.

"I...I told them...a few weeks ago...to...find me somebody that....that I could love...somebody that I could make happy. A wife," Azriel admitted. "You were the one they picked."

She stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. Azriel braced himself for her reaction, not sure what to expect. Would she be angry? Scandalized? Horrified that he had sent his shadows to find him a wife?

She stared at him wide-eyed. "You...You as…asked yo…your sha..shadows to fi…find you a wi…wife?!" she asked him, repeating his words back at him.

He could feel his cheeks reddening but nodded nonetheless. "...are you angry?" he asked her weakly.

Sky stared at him for a moment, but then she shook her head. "No, No...no, I'm not," she repeated again, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm...I'm flat…flattered, actually...Though...though I am cu..curious what it…what it was about me that...made…made them pick me," she admitted.

For the first time in his life, his shadows talked to somebody other than Azriel. *We thought you would treat Master like you treat your cat,* the shadows told her brightly.

She blinked at the bunch of shadows that had gathered in front of her.

"You...You...You want me to...treat Az..Azriel like...like a cat?" she asked them incrediously.

Azriel spluttered, his cheeks burning with mortification. He hadn't expected the shadows to be so blunt, and the idea of her treating him like a cat was...well, it was absurd, to say the least. He wanted her to be his mate, his equal, not to treat him as if he were some kind of pet.

"No, no," he quickly interjected, trying to salvage the situation. "They...they don't mean it like that, Sky. The shadows have their own...unique way of looking at things. Please just...just forget they ever said that."

Sky fixed him with a look. "What do you mean?" she asked the shadows.

*You love your cat,* the shadows said quickly. *You buy him ridiculous overpriced Tuna, and you let him sleep in your bed and you scratch him behind the ears. You even knitted him a sweater!*

Azriel winced, feeling his embarrassment and mortification rising even further. 

"That...thats not important," he mumbled, feeling like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting from embarrassment. "The shadows...they have a habit of exaggerating things. Just...please, don't take them too seriously. I'm not expecting you to treat me like a cat, I swear."

Sky looked at him, then at the Shadows, then at Azriel again. She seemed to be lost in thought, clearly trying to decipher what the shadows meant.

"You..You want your mas…master to be tre…treated...well?" Sky finally asked the shadows, her tone of voice serious. "You pick…picked me because I...be..because I was nice to my cat?" she asked them curiously.

*You are so kind,* the shadows said softly. And so pretty. And we knew you would treat Master well and wouldn't judge him.*

Sky blushed at the compliment.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as the conversation shifted away from the whole "cat" thing. He had to admit, the shadows were right. Sky had been nothing but kind and considerate towards him since they met, and he was grateful for that. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

"Look...I apologize for the shadows' behavior," he said to Sky, his voice soft. "They can be a bit...blunt, sometimes."

"I…I un…understand where they are com…coming from," she said nearly thoughtfully. "They just...want to see you hap…happy?" she said carefully and he nodded.

"Yes."

"Though they…they don't seem to have much of a sense of boun…boundaries," Sky said with a laugh. "You hid in my apartment didn't you?" she asked the shadows.

Azriel cringed as the shadows seemed to twirl in agreement. He had hoped that particular detail would have gone unnoticed, but he should have known better. Sky was too observant for her own good.

"Yes, they did," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm sorry about that. They...they have a tendency to go where they please."

Sky still mustered the shadows that were twitching in front of her

"I…I prom…promise to t…treat your ma…master well." Sky said seriously. "He's my mate."

Azriel felt his heart skip a beat at her words. The sound of that word coming from her lips made his knees weak.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and taking her hands in his. "And I promise to treat you well too," he swore fervently. 

"And I'll…I’ll even knit him a swea…sweater," Sky continued, looking at the shadows.. "I…I don't know if he likes Tu…tuna, but I'll…buy him some… sweets."

He couldn’t help but laugh at her words, feeling a surge of affection for her that was almost overwhelming. "Sky," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "You don't have to do any of that for me. Just being with you is more than I could ever ask for.But...if you are willing to knit me a sweater, I surely won't say no to it," he added with a laugh. "And maybe you could try scratching me behind the ears too, just in case the shadows are right."

He meant it as a joke, but there was a part of him that was secretly delighted by the idea of her spoiling and doting on him. Maybe, just maybe, the shadows were onto something after all.

"And...who knows, maybe I'll develop a taste for Tuna," he added, grinning playfully. "As long as it's the fancy kind, that is."

He kissed her forehead gently, holding her close for a moment longer before finally pulling away. "But Sky…you don’t have to do all of that…Just being with you is enough."

She smiled up at him, beautiful and blinding and he couldn't help but kiss her.

As his lips met hers, Azriel felt a wave of warmth and tenderness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the shadows, not the world outside, nothing but her.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. 

"You…You can absolutely sleep in my bed with me," she whispered. "Or I'll sleep in yours," she offered, a grin on her face... and that was all he needed to hear, as he picked her up again.

[mercurycft]

𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 — 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐂

## reader x awfc !!

hi all!! finally releasing this, which is in honour of jonas finally pissing off away from our girls and our team! i hope you enjoy! love always, RGx

warnings: angsty team x management arguments, mentions of mental health!

3.6k words.

“i’m sure the team will be buzzing with joy this evening after tonight’s win, but how are the girls and yourself taking the recent and surprising departure of a lifelong gunner?”

“yeah, as you said we’re all pleased with the result tonight - it was a great match with a good side and i think the score reflects the determination we took onto the pitch with us.” you watch as beth pauses, like she is searching for words that will do her feelings justice. “she was the best of us, not just the team but the best of us and our friends. i think she was and is destined for great things, but life and people unfortunately happened to get in the way. but i’m happy, we’re all, happy for her.”

you've known beth long enough to know when she is lying and it pains you to realise how the tone of her voice drops at the mention of you. it stings momentarily, but you shake it off and allow pride to take over you as the camera pans to the rest of the team taking their victory lap.

you find yourself smiling absentmindedly at your phone, having sat through the entire match with your eyes glued to your phone - watching your girls on the pitch from your home, instead of beside them for the first time in years. your stomach filled with a cocktail of emotions that you can’t seem to process at this very moment. a toxic mixture of sadness and despair, twisted and twined with anger and hatred for what the situation had become.

its been two weeks since your statement went out, three since you made the decision and four since the argument. in an ideal world, it wouldn’t have gone this way - you would’ve stomached your feelings for longer and swallowed your bubbling anger, bit your tongue and carried on as usual. but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

------

1 month ago.

a 3-0 win should be celebrated. it should fill you with joy and overwhelming excitement - but it doesn't. instead, it fills you with nothing but anger and resentment for the club you once loved, you used to love. in place of congratulations and pats on the back, is a lecture. a plethora of critiques and corrections despite the effort and conviction everyone had shown.

you and the rest of the girls stand huddled in a group in the locker room, stood in an agonising silence. your hair is still wet, from the sickly british rain that decided to visit, your face still tinted red and your chest still heaving.

you tune out to jonas' voice, watching absentmindedly as he paces ahead of the group - volume above his usual decibel as he tears into the group, pushing further and further. you don't listen, allowing your mind to wander. no one dares talk back, instead choosing to take his words. you, however, fail to be as nonchalant as them - swallowing the bubble of anger in your throat and biting your tongue to the best of your ability.

your mind is brought back into the tiled room at the snap of your name from the front of the group. you look up to be met with jonas' eyes on you - his eyebrows raised and seemingly awaiting an answer. "what?" you mumble through gritted teeth, eyes locked on his.

"do you care to fill the rest of us in on what is so important besides my feedback right now?"

you shake your head, matched with a sarcastic looking, sickly-sweet smile and lift your hand top gesture towards him. "oh please, carry on."

"i dont appreciate your attitude," he quips back, screwing his facial features together, feining disgust.

"whatever," you scoff, rolling your eyes and peeling yourself away from the bodies beside you - now overly aware of their eyes on you.

"i'm out." pause. "i'm going to leave, and have a glass of wine and celebrate a fucking win." you turn away from them, too busy to take off your kit and instead scrunching your clothes and belongings into your kit bag. "which by the way, is what we should all be doing! instead of standing here taking shit because he didn't like how we were moving on the pitch!"

there was a shift from him, and a deep red tint crept up his neck as he shot daggers at you from across the tiles. “i do everything for this team! maybe once in a while, it would be nice for you to do the same if you think you know better! please, do tell us, what makes you think you have done anything of significance for this team? for arsenal!”

it changed, then. the small shred of sympathy you had, the small shred of guilt - gone. ripped from inside you and splattered across the walls of your home stadium locker room. the girls around you seemed shocked at his words, confused and unsure of what to expect next.

you paused. taking a deep breath and halting your shoving of clothes and shoes into your bag, and turning to face him directly through the sea of red and white kits in front of you.

“what do i do, for this team?” the question sounded almost broken, like you couldn’t actually believe he was playing this card. you searched for the answer deep within yourself for a few seconds, allowing the hurt to build in your throat and fuel the fire burning deep behind your eyes and in the pit of your stomach. your eyes flicked over each of the faces now looking at you and a small smile teased at the corners of your lips as you looked at their concerned expressions.

after a few more moments of silence, you inhaled deeply and began. “i’ve given my life, to this club. to this team. i put in the work, i trained day and night in the academy, until i was enough for the senior team. and when i made it here, i made a difference. i stepped up when kim was out, when leah was out. when laura first moved here, i took her in.” you paused, taking another shaky breath, cautious of the tears held back by nothing more than your water line. “i don’t expect you to give a shit. but whilst you were too busy tearing this team down. katie for her aggression, kim for her captaining style, leah for her rehabilitation, viv for her performance, beth for her drive, lia for training hours and every other fucking player in this building. i was building them back up, i was trying to make this right.”

silence fell over the room, and you shook your head. “im done.” you all but whispered, slinging your bag over your shoulder and moving towards the large doors leading away from the locker room. “i can’t do this anymore, this club is my home - and i will not watch you tear it down.” you shoved the door, a single teare slipping down your cheek the second you heard the door swing back on its latch and close again. you didn't stop to say goodbye to the familiar faces in the building, instead, with your head down and focused on the floor beneath you - you walked straight into the carpark, got into your car and drove home.

as you drove away, the weight of your decision settled in your chest. you couldn't believe it had come to this, that you had walked away from the team you had poured your heart and soul into. all the emotions you had been burying for weeks and weeks on end were now uncontrollable, tears streaming as you contemplated your actions but you knew you couldn't bear to stay in an environment where your efforts were belittled and unappreciated.

after a 40 minute drive, you found solace and refuge in the familiar walls of your apartment. the silence enveloped you as you sank onto the sofa, reaching for your phone. you hestitated in pulling it out of your bag, unsure of what may be waiting for you when you unlock it.

but still, you did, heaving a deep breath when your screen lit up with a message from beth. her words expressing concern and confusion about what had transpired in the locker room. as you read beth's message, a mix of emotions washed over you - relief that someone cared enough to reach out, but also a pang of guilt for leaving without saying a proper goodbye. to her, to any of the girls in the room. you quickly typed out a response, skipping over the details of your motives - instead opting for a light hearted message, apologising for your abrupt exit and apologising for not controlling your temper.

minutes turned into hours as you sat there, staring at your phone, the weight of your actions heavy on your shoulders. you hadn’t moved, still sat in your jacket and kit, boots still tied to your feet. the sound of a familiar notification pinged through the room - like it had been doing on repeat since that first message from beth, and you saw more messages popping up from your now ex-teammates.

------

1 week later - 3 weeks ago.

the days blurred into a week as you settled into a routine without the training sessions, team meetings, and the constant thoughts of upcoming matches that used to consume your time. you found freedom in the quiet moments alone, the weight of expectation now lifted off your shoulders, a sense of liberation starting to bloom within you. you finally felt like a person, not just a player.

you had been speaking to the girls everyday, each of them keeping you up to date on life behind the scenes of the club. the drama and tension seemed to have escalated in your absence, with rumors swirling about disputes between jonas and some of the other players. your decision to leave had sent shockwaves through the team, but it also seemed to have sparked a newfound sense of unity among everyone.

it was a miserable london evening when you got your first unexpected visit, darkness just creeping across the clouds when a knock at the door interrupted your law and order binge.

to your surprise, standing on your doorstep was leah, with a hesitant smile on her face.

a flood of questions and uncertainties raced through your mind as you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to say or how to react to her unexpected visit.

"hey," leah began, her voice soft yet laced with underlying tension. "uh, can I come in?"

you hesitated for a moment, the inner turmoil evident on your face as you considered whether to welcome her inside. finally, you stepped back, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow her entry. leah entered cautiously, taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

there was a palpable tension in the air as you both stood in the living room, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. you shared the quiet for a second or two before leah spoke up, her words carefully measured. "i know things have been rough lately... for all of us, you especially, i wanted to come here and talk, clear the air maybe?”

you studied her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was genuine concern etched in the furrow of her brow. with a sigh, you nodded, gesturing towards the couch for her to sit. as she settled on the edge of the cushion, you perched on the arm beside her, like you used to.

"i just... i wanted to say that i'm sorry. sorry for not speaking up before, for not standing by you when things blew up. i let my own fears and doubts cloud my judgment, and i should have been there for you, we all should have been there for you."

her words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the unspoken tension that had plagued your relationship for months. you could sense the sincerity in her voice, the raw vulnerability that she rarely showed to anyone.

“i appreciate it, but it wasn’t your fight, le.”

“your fights are our fights, you’re one of us, you always have been. you always will be”

you gave her a half smile in response, and moved closer to her on the sofa - opening your arms to her. she mirrored your smile, allowing your arms to wrap around her and hers around you.

after a few moments, you pulled away, looking at her directly. “thank you, for coming round. and for looking after me for all these years. but i think,” you paused, sniffling and turning your attention to the fabric of the sofa below you. “i think its time,”

she nodded along with you, taking a deep breath before smiling at you. “if that’s what you want to do, then do it, and we will support you. i promise.”

“i don’t know how to tell the girls, i haven’t seen any of them since i left. i don’t want them to find out through social media,” you rambled.

“we’re all meeting at mine tomorrow, why dont you come along? i know they want to see you, and i think you deserve a night to relax with us - gunner style.” you share a laugh at her comment, agreeing to see the girls. a small shred of anxiety tore through the depths of your stomach, but you shook it off; determined to do the right thing.

the next day seemed to fly by, seeming to disappear from you as you spent the hours doing odd jobs - attempting to distract yourself from the uneasiness gnawing at your insides.

now, you find yourself outside leah’s flat. she said 7, but you underestimated the traffic at this time in this part of the city - so you’re late, as per usual, and composing of yourself on the door step. after a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock.

once, twice, then the door flies open. a smiley young aussie waiting to greet you, her arms immediately around you and pulling you tight to her frame. “jesus, i missed you,” she whispers into your shoulder. “i missed you too, k.” you pull apart and she grabs your hand, pulling you from the now closed door and into the living area. it’s littered with everyone you know and love.

they greet you like nothing has changed, arms wrapped around you and whispers, comments and remarks of support. you slip into the group like you never left.

after you’ve eaten, and have returned to the living area, you stand up - allowing everyone’s eyes to fall on you. you take a deep breath, smiling at them then looking down at your thumbs. you twiddle them and enterlock your hands as you search for the best way to say it.

“i wanted you to hear it from me, that next week, a statement will be released. a statement explaining my temporary contract termination from arsenal. i love you all, like my family. i don’t want any of you to feel like any of this is your fault, but i just feel like i’m at a different point in my life right now - a point where my views, and the clubs managment’s views no longer align. i can’t jeopardise my mental health, for people who can’t seem to put me, or my friends, first.”

you say it in one, your mouth and words moving faster than your brain can comprehend. you finish with a shallow breath, looking up to the group. they take it well, a few of them shedding tears at the offical loss of their friend and teammate, others hugging you and sharing comforting smiles. you know it needs to happen, but this is the part that kills you. leaving behind your family, your people.

the night draws to an end and you begin saying your goodbyes, promising to keep in touch and arranging plans to meet up soon. as you start making your way out of the room and towards the door, kim pulls you aside. you can’t read her expression, a sickening mixture of sadness and happiness for you.

“i’ll miss you,” she says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “but I know you’re doing what’s best for you. just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

you nod, feeling a lump form in your throat as you hug her tightly one last time before heading out the door.

------

1 week later - 2 weeks ago.

3pm. your phone dings with a notification from the arsenal woman’s football club instagram and app, giving you and thousands of others the news of a new and important post. you hover your finger over the notification, hestitating.

you open it eventually, propping your phone up as the video loads onto the screen. you cringe at the sight of you, expectant of whats to come.

“hi gooners, it’s so nice to sit down and speak to you. this year marks my 15th year at arsenal, if we’re taking it all the way back to my first academy scouting when i was 8. i have nothing my fondness and admiration for this club, these people and this community. to be apart of this team and to watch the growth of woman’s football has been an honour and a pleasure i will forever be grateful for. when i think back on my years here, i have nothing but happy memories. memories of friends, of wins and of losses, of meeting fans and selling out stadiums. some of these things we never believed would be possible, but you, every last one of you, have made it possible. after 15 years of my life dedicated to the game, i think it’s time to take a break. temporarily and indefinitely, i will be taking a step back from the club. thank you all for your unwaivering support, it means the world to me. this is a special club, which remains my home. but my health and wellbeing needs to be my number one priority. thank you.”

you watch as the video comes to an end, and the messages, comments and likes begin. you switch off your phone after a few minutes, tucking it under a cushion on your sofa and resuming your show - tuning out the constant buzzing.

------

present day.

you watch until the live recording of the match ends, you watch all of the post-match interviews, with nothing other than a smile on your face. when the stream finally does end, you feel like you can breathe again, switching to your messages app and drafting a text into the groupchat to congratulate the girls on their win. you press send, then abandon your phone beside you somewhere on the sofa. paying it no mind and you lean back into the comfort of the cushions and pillows surrounding you.

as you sink deeper into the softness, you let out a content sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. you close your eyes and let the sounds of the television fade into the background, relishing in the quiet of your own thoughts.

you dozed off, allowing the safety of sleep to engulf you for a few hours. you lay peacefully until the doorbell rings, jolting you awake. you groan in annoyance, wondering who could possibly be bothering you at this hour. you reach for your phone as you stand, 9pm. reluctantly, you shuffle away from the sofa and make your way to the door, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

as you swing open the door, you are met with a pair of familiar faces that brings an instant smile to your lips. beth and viv, stand on your doorstep with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"surprise!" beth exclaims, holding up a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. "we come bearing gifts. can we come in?"

you step aside, allowing them to enter, still slightly taken aback by their unexpected visit. they both breeze past the threshold, only stopping for a moment to give you a hug before making themselves at home on your sofa.

“i didn’t know you were back in london, viv!” you exclaim, watching her set the flowers on the counter. “and shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” you ask beth with a laugh, shutting the door and joining them on the sofa.

“there’s no where we would rather be, mijn liefje.”

its the later end of midnight when you all start to tire, spread across the sofa and floor with eyes barely open and focusing on the movie playing.

“do you guys want to just stay here tonight? i don’t wan’t you driving home tired.” you say through a yawn, stretching your back out and turning to look at the both of them cuddled up beside you. both of their eyes closed and chests rising peacefully. you smile to yourself, moving to grab a blanket from the basket beside you and cover them both up. you switch off the tv, turn off the big light and make your way to your bedroom.

it isn’t long before you’re asleep too.

------

the next morning you wake to a persistant buzzing sound, your phone rattling on your bedside table. notifications from twitter and instagram flood your lockscreen, along with messages from the arsenal groupchat and from distant friends.

your eyes are just barely open when you reach for it, giving your eyes a moment to adjust before looking at the screen. you swing yourself off the bed, feet finding the cold of the floor as you pad through the flat until you find beth and viv.

they’re awake, both sharing the same expression as they look at you in the doorway between the two rooms.

you begin to read from your phone. “we can confirm that jonas eidevall has resigned from his position as head coach of our women’s first team and leaves us with immediate effect.”

[caught-tumbling]

I've been hospitalized and I've worked in mental health so I have some suggestions

1) You will see things that you don't understand. That's ok. As long as the behavior isn't harmful its fine. Unusual sentence structure, unusual requests, unusual movements, unusual associations, etc are just how some people function. So if you don't understand why someone is doing something try to just take it in stride, try not to laugh, stare, or look disgusted. When I was hospitalized a patient had a compulsion (I think) to shout their full name whenever someone said their first name, then they always looked embarrassed. So the best staff members just pretended it didn't happen which didn't stop the behavior but at least the patient was more at ease because they weren't being shamed.

2) People in psych wards often have a very dark sense of humor. Gallows humor gets us through. People will casually throw out the most upsetting and traumatic anecdotes as "funny" stories. You don't have to laugh along, just don't be too surprised. One benefit to being in a psych ward is a level of understanding most people don't have outside. People can drop a joke about the most horrifying shit they've survived and no one freaks out, they just laugh and share something equally messed up. That dark comradery was a weirdly healing part of my recovery. Sometimes as a staff member you'll have to intervene if people start looking uncomfortable but in general you just gotta shrug and move on.

3) Compassion, compassion, compassion. The difference between a good stay and a bad stay is compassion. Treat every patient as if they were a loved one. My worst stay the staff treated us like dangerous cattle. They didn't speak to us except to give orders, they ignored people in pain and distress, they refused every request just because they could. My best stay the staff ate with us, they played card games with us, they offered a hand to hold when someone was scared, they treated us like human beings. Just sitting with someone for a while can be huge.

4) Please report things. PLEASE REPORT THINGS. If a patient is harassing another patient, report it. If a patient is harassing an employee, report it. If a coworker is being cruel or neglectful towards patients, report it. If your reports do nothing then escalate it. I've reported patients, nurses, doctors, teams, even organizations both as a patient and as a professional. I've called the police. I've gotten people fired. You will need to do that sometimes. It sucks and is a little nerve wracking but you need to advocate for people's safety. The reports I made as a professional were taken way more seriously than the reports I made as a patient. The system is set up to dismiss patients so employees need to be more proactive. Please be an advocate. Some of the people you'll work with don't have any support outside the hospital, those are the most vulnerable people you'll probably ever meet and you won't always know who's in that group.

5) Talk to the patients. Avoid phrases like "I understand what you're going through" and use phrases like "I know this is hard" or "I'm here to help." If someone is having a hallucination or delusion that's upsetting sometimes it's better to work with the delusion than to deny it completely. If someone is worried there's bugs in their food just saying "no, that's ridiculous" won't help. But saying "I'll check to make sure there's no bugs" can help immensely. Some people will be scared of you due to anxiety, medical trauma, other trauma, or paranoia. You can't always change their mind. But you can show signs that you are a safe person. Little stuff like getting them an extra blanket, asking how they're doing, including them in their treatment plans, etc are vital but overlooked.

Help Me Train Nurses About Psych Stuff

I do a presentation at our hospital aimed demystifying mental illness and the people who live with it. The talk is for medical-surgical nurses, so specifically staff that does NOT work psych who feel ignorant about treating that population. A lot of the people I'm talking to are also young and still developing the foundation of their nursing practice.

If you've ever been in the hospital as a psych patient (or a psych patient navigating the medical system in general), what would you want the hospital staff to know based on your experiences? What advice or insight would you give?

I'd especially love anything about positive experiences, things that helped you, what someone did that improved the situation, stuff like that. In addition to saying what not to do, I'd love to give staff actionable things they CAN do instead.

[charcubed]

I have soooooo much I want to write about Doctor Odyssey and if I keep waiting for the perfect moment to write something PROPERLY GOOD AND COMPREHENSIVE then I’m simply going to explode. So instead I’m going to write a messy little post on my phone when half asleep and try to keep it to one main topic.

Yeah yeah the throuple had a threesome (and I’m foaming at the mouth over it) but can we talk about the THEMES!!!!

This show is for crazy people (me specifically). Once again, I have a lot to say, but for now let me just focus on the wedding episode itself. That threesome is informed by the context of the rest of the episode in a way I simply CANNOT get over.

Let’s look at our passengers: the bride, groom, and best man. We find out all of them are being unfaithful to each other in various ways, miserable in their silence and unhealthy relationship dynamics. They all went to school together and were once close, but things went wrong somewhere along the way. The best man’s speech implies he has feelings for the groom, the groom is a sex addict who’s had multiple partners (possibly the best man included) because he feels trapped in a lie, and the bride and best man are having sex with each other. And none of them are communicating about it, and the groom who had preexisting mental health struggles commits suicide.

What happens to the three of them is a tragedy and it is absolutely a result of heteronormative monogamous culture. That culture was passed down from the bride’s mother to her too by example and societal influence.

I’m not exaggerating. It’s not subtle!!! At all!!! Everything explodes for those passengers because monogamy and repressing bisexuality wasn’t working for them.

They’re a dark mirror and cautionary tale. (Bonus points for how Avery’s sad backstory is that she was betrayed by her longtime friend / brief husband who cheated on her with a mutual friend as well, which is why she’s definitely hesitant about love now.)

By comparison, Avery and Max and Tristan have been avoiding some similar big pitfalls: they know they’re into each other and it’s not a secret, rivalries keep being squashed with effort, and no one is pressuring anyone to choose (so far).

This is what our beloved main characters have on their minds before what follows. And again, let’s not even get to the sex part yet… THE BUCKET LISTS!!! I’m losing my Goddamn marbles!!! The way all 3 of their lists intersect? Holy shit. Off the top of my head: Max and Tristan want to fall in love and have kids, Avery and Max want to see the world, Tristan and Avery have niche interests outside of medicine that they want to explore more… We were given itemized lists to show how the 3 of them balance and round each other out perfectly.

It’s not about any 2 of them because it won’t work with just any 2. It’s ALL THREE — just like all the framing and blocking of shots is consistently all 3, they walked down the wedding aisle all 3 together, the first sex scene for any of them that WE as the audience see on screen is all 3 of them together, a “bad threesome” is defined as 2 people getting too wrapped up in each other and the 3rd being an accidental outsider, we often see that if one duo gets a couple-y moment then the other duos get similar moments later as well, etc etc. Sorry. Let me not continue the summary list here and now so I don’t get too sidetracked but there’s A LOT.

But like, my current point? That wedding episode is a goldmine and the threesome explicitly happening doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Far from it. The themes are themeing in the whole show, of course, which is part of what I want to write about elsewhere at some point too: this show is repeatedly very deliberate about making sure heterosexuality or monogamy aren’t framed as the default or only correct options, and queerness is sprinkled everywhere. But this wedding episode specifically… the themes were nearly the ONLY PLOT. Nothing else — it’s basically only that, and it’s very focused. The failures of monogamy are on full display. And that’s why and how we get an explicit threesome right after it, which will lead us into how things will continue to develop for our trio.

Now, as for why the threesome happens so relatively quickly? My hot take on that is that general audiences can be stupid and so the creators wanted to put the throuple explicitly on screen fairly early to get people to start Noticing. Show them how the characters need to be together… and that sets us up for the possible angst and tension to follow as they have to accept it emotionally for themselves too. Now, as an audience member, you’ll more strongly know what to root for. You’ll know what’s right because you’ve seen it and you’ll want them to get back to that place, come what may. (If you’re not a puritan.)

It’s so fucking good. Insane silly show for insane people. Are we seeing the vision??? I need everyone to lock in.

This ramble is probably a disaster and I apologize for that but ohhhh man I had to put SOME words down so I wouldn’t explode. Suffice it to say I’m having a ball up in this bitch and I cannot believe this show exists. I couldn’t believe my eyes and my brain cells in the pilot, and I REALLY can’t believe them now.

What a time to be alive!!!!!! Polycule “love fest” on a cruise ship, baby!!! The world needs more love, all kinds of love, as the Captain says!!!! Onward to gay week!!!! LET’S SEE THOSE BI MEN KISS

[rothpie]

❝INHERITANCE❞|part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Marriage of Convenience; JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Summary: The rebellious child of a noble family, the last hope, the one meant to carry on the family name. Your grandfather’s health was failing, and though you were expected to inherit everything, he had pulled away from you completely. Now, there was only one condition for you to receive his inheritance; to get your life in order, stop coming home late at night, give up drinking, and, of course his last wish—a marriage.

Warnings: kind of daddy issues, mentioning losing parent

selly's note: I'm so excited!!! hope you like it💗💗💗

next

Parties had always been intriguing. For some, they were an escape from life; for others, a lifestyle. They were places where you’d run into everyone you knew or didn’t know. You always hoped they’d play good music, and when you walked in, you loved that moment when most eyes turned your way. Feeling their gazes, being the center of attention, being talked about—that was power. You couldn’t live without attention. Sure, everyone enjoys a little of it, but you craved it every moment.

You loved dancing wildly, drinking, and letting loose at parties. It was one of those rare times you’d truly disconnect from everything. Laughing crazily with your friends, getting close with a guy—it thrilled you. It was as if the world were ending and you were going out with a bang. Live fast, die young, right?

You were meant to live each day like it was your last. You were here to enjoy life, and you had no intention of stopping—because you wouldn’t stop. Today could be your last day.

It wasn’t just a behavior; it was a way of life.

And you were in love with it.

The future could wait; you had more important things to do now—like being young.

You loved the label of “party monster.” Even while listening to The Weeknd, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the scene. You didn’t think you could live without partying—not at this point.

Most people didn’t matter much to you. Usually, you enjoyed drinking and hanging out with people your own age, soaking in the party vibes, watching people cannonball into pools, the beer pong games, seeing everyone try to drink from kegs. You loved being young.

No lie, you loved everything that came with youth—guys, the fun, the parties, sex, the yacht parties…

Even if you didn’t always prefer getting drunk, your body wasn’t exactly used to it. Strong drinks got you tipsy fast. Most times, you ended up having friends drop you off at home, or you’d wake up at some guy��s place you’d hooked up with. It didn’t matter. You never felt ashamed of one-night stands. Sex was just a part of life. And though you didn’t always like sneaking out quietly, you still did it.

Sticking around and getting emotional wasn’t your style. You hated the “What are we now?” question. You’d rather jump off a cliff than hear it.

Sometimes, though, you’d wake up at home, only to face your dad’s and grandfather’s disapproving stares. Most mornings, you’d stumble down to breakfast looking like a mess. Even after washing your face, your mascara and eyeliner would still smudge, the headache hitting hard—you looked fucked, no doubt.

But you were just a young girl who partied.

You might come home late, drink, be out most of the week, and practically treat the house like a hotel, but hey—at least you didn’t do drugs. That was an accomplishment, right?

You were just a girl.

Hanging out at the golf club didn’t interest you. You thought it was ridiculous, even though you were part of the Kook crowd. With so many things to do, golf? Really?

There was only one reason you’d stay out under the sun that long—tanning. Nothing else could keep you baking in the sun. Ever.

Most people at the golf club weren’t there for golf anyway. They’d wear their best outfits, spritz on perfume, do their makeup, and show up just to flaunt themselves. Some were hoping to score a date for the night, others looking for a potential spouse. The place was swarming with people trying to show off their wealth, a live version of a dating app. You hated it.

Waiting in line for a guy? 

You wouldn’t even look at someone who wasn’t interested in you from the start. Your guy had to be loyal. Chasing other women while pursuing you? Eliminated. Eyeing three other girls in the same room as you? Out. Walking alongside you and your best friends on the same beach? All three of you would kick him to the ass.

You never needed it. Your family name was known, and everywhere you went, you stood out. You didn’t need to make yourself known or put in extra effort to catch people’s attention.

You were already valuable. The brightest jewel on the island. The shiniest diamond.

You were noticeable even on the path you walked.

Still, your love life wasn’t exactly successful. You weren’t sure if it was by choice or if the guys on the island were just idiots. Either way, you always knew most of them were after your family name—maybe to get into the company, or for the benefits it would bring to their own families. It was always a letdown.

Looking back, you were grateful. Those experiences taught you something, and you were now certain none of them were worth a second thought. Your exes were terrible. Thank goodness you hadn’t given any of them your virginity.

One had been worse than the others. But at least he was handsome—and muscular, tall… Too bad he’d left the island.

You were never treated as the “heir” they wanted. Before you were even born, they’d wished for a boy. They’d wanted you to be a son. It was insulting. But you just preferred to think of it as saying, 'Too bad, bitches—I’m a girl!'

Thank heavens.

As a kid, you always wanted a sibling. So did your parents, especially a son to carry on the family line. But when your parents plans conflicted with God’s plans, there’s no telling what might happen.

Before you could have a sibling, you lost your mother. She was in the same car as your dad, and he was the only one who survived. When he refused to remarry, you were left as the family’s only grandchild.

No, you weren’t a boy. But you were still the one they had to trust to carry on the family line. You’d take over the company someday; you’d be the boss. They’d always made that clear. They let you be a kid for a while, but the moment you hit adolescence, the serious talks started. Because of the family’s public image, they always expected you to be polite and courteous. You were, of course.

But over time, these expectations became stricter, and as you felt more pressure from your family, your need for freedom grew.

As much as you loved the party life, you’d take over the company one day. That ambition was in you—it was just a matter of time. And until then, you’d live it up.

Who said girls can’t carry on the family name?

You were living proof, like millions of women out there. You had plenty of time before taking over the company, and for now, you were enjoying the moment. Future you could deal with the future. Why would you worry now?

At this age, you and Jada and Aaliyah were way too busy partying.

It had taken days for you all to decide on a birthday dinner over a party, if we’re honest. It was Jada’s 20th. It was a big deal, and you’d discussed a lot of options. But finally, she decided on a quiet celebration with her closest friends instead of a big party.

The reason was simple.

Her family had just bought a new home, and they’d made it clear they wanted no parties for a while. Jada was on board with that anyway. She didn’t want people throwing up on her new couches or couples making out all over her place.

Besides, she realized you could manage with a small, private party of your own.

First, you’d talked about doing it on a yacht, but Jada didn’t want to risk throwing up on a boat after drinking, not to mention the fear of falling overboard while drunk. It was very much something that would happen to her. She couldn’t stay stable on anything that moved.

After a lot of back-and-forth, Aaliyah came up with the idea of a dinner. She told you both to leave the details to her and picked the spot. Jada was thrilled.

She felt like she was getting a surprise party—although she knew it’d be just the three of you and was fully aware of the plan, she still acted clueless. Even on the way there, she acted like she had no idea why or where you were going—as if it wasn’t her birthday.

But neither you nor Aaliyah broke character. You both played along as if you were headed to the yacht. It became a little game between you.

“Girl, I swear—kisses to the chef won’t cut it! I need to go back to the kitchen and fuck him. If a man cooks like this, I owe him at least ten kids,” Aaliyah said, cracking you both up. Thanks to her, you had the best seats with a full view at Figure Eight’s top restaurant—prime Instagram Story material.

As you took a sip of your white wine, Aaliyah cleared her throat. You turned to her, smiling.

“Girl, you’ve lost it. What if the chef is, like, 54?” Aaliyah scrunched her face, and you joined in, pulling a face as Jada raised an eyebrow. She seemed incredulous. She took another bite before saying anything.

“You two are fucking idiot. Hugh Jackman’s 56, and I’d get in his bed in a heartbeat. I’m ready to be his personal whore.”

She had a point. If the chef looked as good as Hugh Jackman in his fifties, maybe he deserved a look, especially considering guys your age were nothing to brag about.

But still—the idea of dating, let alone sleeping with, a guy old enough to be your dad? That made you feel pretty gross. Just thinking about it made you cringe.

It was nasty.

Unless, of course, it was Hugh Jackman. For him, you'd practically sign up to be his broodmare.

After Jada threw out her little example, the silence stretched, and she looked at both of you with a smug grin. She’d laid down her final word. Period.

Spending time with these girls? Honestly, the best.

Aaliyah, right beside you, let out a dramatic sigh, catching your and Jada’s attention. When she put her hand to her mouth and dropped her fork, the two of you exchanged puzzled, worried glances. Was something wrong? But just as you started to feel real concern, Aaliyah moved her hand and started talking. “I cannot believe I forgot to tell you!”

For a moment, you were seriously worried about her, but quickly you realized that what she’d forgotten was merely a juicy piece of gossip. Which, for the three of you, was life-or-death level serious. If it wasn’t something major, there’s no way she’d be reacting like this. You dropped your fork, grabbing your wine glass as you turned to her. Jada followed suit, shaking her head with a hint of annoyance. “Girl, you’d better mean this in a good way, or I’m throwing you over the railing. You just freaked us out.”

Aaliyah tucked her hair behind her ears, her face breaking into a huge grin. She knew she was holding gold. This might just be the gossip of the year.

After clearing her throat, she looked at the two of you with sparkling eyes. “First off, I heard this from my mom. The whole island doesn’t know yet, but soon enough, everyone will. So we’re like, one of the first. Do you realize how big this is?” Aaliyah took a deep breath, savoring your expectant stares. She was clearly pleased at how primed you both were.

If she held back any longer, you were about to discover telepathy.

“You guys know the Rodolp's, right? They have a son our age, Harry. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph has been coming home later and later, and eventually it came out—he’s cheating on Mrs. Rodolph.” Gossip-wise, you were unimpressed. Who cared about middle-aged infidelity? Cheating on your wife of forty years was just... gross.

“I can see it on your faces. Hold on. Apparently, the person he’s seeing is someone our age.” Now that was interesting.

You turned fully to her, a mischievous grin growing on your face. “Girl, you’d better give us more. I’m dying of suspense here.” Jada nodded in agreement, pointing to you as she puckered her lips. “Right on the money, babe.”

“Do you remember our last year? That term when we mostly had classes together? Biology class, with Liliana. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph is fooling around with Liliana from biology. And it gets even worse—Liliana and Harry are dating. The guy is cheating on both his wife and his son, with his son’s girlfriend.”

Aaliyah was a fucking queen.

You and Jada were on the verge of screaming. If you’d been at home, you two would’ve been shrieking your heads off, but since you were in a restaurant, you both had to clench your teeth to avoid an outburst. This scandal was going to be the talk of the town for months, and thank heavens it had come your way first.

“Damn… Double homicide.”

Leaning back with pride, Aaliyah pointed to herself, clearly reveling in her role. She looked like she’d just swept every major award.

Best Gossip in the Game.

That award was hers. She deserved it.

After that, things settled down a bit. You went back to eating as Aaliyah filled you in on the divorce proceedings, how Harry was firmly on his mom’s side, and any other spicy detail she had on the Rodolph's situation. Jada blew out her birthday candle, and you handed over your gifts—she was thrilled. With a designer bag in one hand and a diamond necklace around her neck, she struggled not to scream from excitement, kissing each of you about a thousand times.

The rest of the evening felt like the perfect girl’s night. You laughed, gossiped, had a blast—until the food was gone and the alcohol intake was way too high.

No one expected to get that drunk. You were pretty sure Aaliyah had promised to only have a little, yet you were positive she had polished off a bottle herself. Jada? She didn’t even pretend; she kept saying it was her birthday and she was entitled to it. She wasn’t wrong.

At one point, Jada even contemplated going into the kitchen to hunt down the chef. She nearly got up but couldn’t decide if she should carry her new bag or stick with her regular one. She added something about 22 or 52 looking no different in her eyes.

And you? Every moment with these girls was priceless. You were making new memories to look back on, imagining them as your kids’ honorary aunts, and then as their kids’ aunts too. Best friends for life.

None of you stopped drinking. You egged each other on, shot after shot, until you lost count.

At the end of the night—you were all completely hammered.

How you got home, who paid the bill, who drove? No clue. You opened your eyes the next morning in your own bed, with a throbbing headache. You felt as if you hadn’t had water in forty-eight hours, and your stomach was burning. You wanted to just lay down on the cool floor. Hangovers like this were the worst.

Sitting up, you reached for your phone. The group chat was lighting up with notifications. When you opened it, you saw that Jada and Aaliyah were already awake, talking about just how far things had gone last night. Jada was still going on about the chef. You’d really gone too far.

It was supposed to be a normal dinner, celebrating Jada’s 20th birthday. A night to hug each other, share some love, then go home—naturally, you’d gone way beyond that.

After reading about Aaliyah getting scolded by her mom, you set your phone back on the bed, unable to deal with more notifications with your throbbing head. You’d text them back later. As much as you loved the wild nights, you hated the mornings after.

To snap yourself out of it, you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were sure you reeked of alcohol, which you absolutely despised. Smelling bad was practically the worst thing you could think of. You had to smell good, always. The shower didn’t take long, and after you got out, you brushed your teeth and went back to your room. You wrinkled your nose at the lingering smell of alcohol.

You opened the windows, threw on some casual workout clothes, and as you brushed your hair, you couldn’t help but think how much you loved being a girl. The self-care, the hair products, all the creams… how do guys even go without this stuff?

What the fuck do they even talk about? How do they survive missing out on all this?

You couldn’t. It was baffling.

Once you were done, you left your hair damp and headed out of your room.

As you were about to enter the living room, three men in suits caught your eye as they exited. Instead of finding your dad and grandfather seated as usual, you noticed your father standing by the window, gazing out over the view, while your grandfather was settled in an armchair, tapping a pen rapidly.

"Good morning," you said, hesitating slightly. Things were always tense in these situations—you were used to it. They didn’t approve of your lifestyle. They might even consider it… unbecoming. And you got it to an extent, but the tension was draining. You’d always hated it.

“More like good afternoon, dear.” Your grandfather’s voice was gentle, but you sensed the sarcasm. He wasn't pleased. Classic.

Just as you were about to respond, you saw your dad turn away from the window. He rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes settling on you with a look so intense it ignited a spark of dread in your gut.

What the fuck was going on?

“Would you like to sit down?” Your grandfather’s voice broke the gaze you held with your dad. You immediately took the seat across from him, catching a hint of a smile on his face. Yet it wasn’t warm. It was an unsettling grin, one that made you feel… uneasy.

You did not like this. Not a bit.

Your dad moved to stand between you and your grandfather, arms crossed. But now he wasn’t even looking at you.

“You never understood.” Your grandfather’s voice cut through, and your brow furrowed. You hated this strained atmosphere. You wanted to get up and leave. But you knew you wouldn’t.

"I’ve tried to help you understand; your father has tried. You’re twenty years old. What are you even living for?”

Okay, now you were officially starting to worry. Your grandfather’s tone, the whole approach—he seemed to be trying to soften the blow. And that, somehow, was even worse. Right now, you hated everything about this.

“You used to be a kid with straight As, despite those odd habits of yours. You didn’t want to go to college; we let it slide. You carry yourself with a confidence that can only come from knowing you’ll always be cushioned. No lie, it’s true.” His smirk widened as he placed the pen down on the coffee table and leaned back.

You’d rarely felt fear in your life. With your father and grandfather behind you, the family name erased any need to be afraid. Your last name was its own protection.

You’d always known that whatever happened, you’d come out fine. That’s why you’d never been scared.

But now? Now your body was nearly trembling. This wasn’t like the usual lecture about your carelessness, or how thoughtless you could be. It was always that same song and dance. But today, they’d taken it somewhere new.

You couldn’t help but be scared.

“So we expected, at the very least, that you’d learn from your mistakes. But it’s clear that’s not happening. You need something to wake you up—a push. And we’ve found one. Until you prove yourself, you won’t receive even a single percent of your inheritance.”

What?

Did he just—did he really just say you were cut off?

As if you didn’t carry the family name? As if you weren’t his grandchild? There was no one else in line for this inheritance. If he left it to your dad, it would still go to you eventually.

So, just because you were young, he was really taking away your rights? This was your birthright! What you did—it wasn’t some rebellion, wasn’t meant as a statement. You didn’t act this way because—

This was your birthright…

Your grandfather started coughing suddenly, his frail body rattling with each hack. Your father moved quickly to his side, and you got up as well. But he raised his hand to stop you both. A helper came to wheel him out of the room, his chair squeaking slightly on the floor. Watching him leave, you replayed his words in your mind, trying to make sense of it.

It was impossible. This was your birthright! How could he just strip it from you?

“You’ve gone too far,” your dad spoke, fixing you with a look that felt like a fireball about to explode. You wanted to lash out, to yell, to demand that this decision be taken back. But the words didn’t come.

“You came home last night like a disaster. Do you know how hard I had to fight to keep him from cutting off your credit cards?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “You’re going to fix this. You’re going to restore your image in his eyes, because right now, you are anything but the girl he wants you to be.” Your hands went to your wet hair, squeezing in frustration. You wished this was all a nightmare, that you were still sleeping.

“What do you want from me, Dad? Should I become some kind of church girl?” Your voice had risen without you realizing it, and you quickly quieted down. You hated feeling cornered, hated this situation, hated everyone—everything.

And those credit cards… if they were cut off, there’d be nothing left for you. And now, losing your future inheritance entirely? It was catastrophic. It wasn’t like you wanted your grandfather dead; you loved him, outdated as he was. But this felt so unfair… You hated every bit of it.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes!” Your dad’s voice snapped you back to reality, his tone so firm it reminded you of being ten years old, on the verge of crying because you hadn’t gotten your way. “Your grandfather is ready to leave the money to the government, do you understand? No—look at me. Let this sink in. Money, property, the company—everything. Fix this. He got married at twenty. It’s practically a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind with you staying out all night, bringing home God knows who. You’re going to fix this, understand?”

You found yourself nodding automatically.

The way he was using this inheritance as a punishment was disgusting. Leaving it all to the government—now that was a nightmare. You did not want that.

“Can’t you… Can’t you change his mind?” you asked, voice low. Your father gave you a look like you’d just spoken in a foreign language. He took a few quick steps forward, disbelief on his face. He was furious that you still seemed unwilling to accept this reality.

“Do I look like I haven’t tried?” His voice was hard, his expression angry. He was holding back to avoid drawing attention. Neither of you wanted this conversation getting back to your grandfather. “If you want the money, you’re going to stop spending your nights out like some fool. Yes, actually, a church girl wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hell, maybe even get married if you need to, I don’t know! Just make him happy! I’m not the one causing this mess!”

Your hands pressed against your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of it all. You tried to think. Even if you did all of this, how did you know your grandfather would ever change his mind? Maybe he’d never truly approve…

When you opened your eyes to speak, you found an empty room.

Of course—your dad had left.

[velvetsupremacy]

In My Head (Part 1)

Pairing: Irene x FEM Reader

Summary: In which Joohyun is a popular cheerleader majoring in psychology and you’re a hopeless gay who reports on Joohyun’s boyfriend’s, Minho, soccer season and you’re paired together for a class project.

Word Count: 8.9k words

Warning: Alcohol use but very brief, no smut

So sorry for the delay but here's part 1, part 2 (final part) coming soon!!

The start of junior year felt like the beginning of something big for you. You practically skipped across the campus lawn, camera bag bouncing against your hip as you soaked in the buzz of excitement that hung in the air. It wasn’t just about covering the men’s soccer team for the college news station, even though the team was expected to go all the way to the championship this year. No, it was the possibility of seeing her again - Joohyun.

“Look at you, all perked up,” Yerim teased, pulling her sunglasses down. “Excited about watching a bunch of dudes sweat it out on a field?”

“Hey, it’s for the story,” you said, pretending to sound professional but failing miserably as you grinned ear to ear. “We need a good story to start the year, and this team’s perfect for that.”

Yerim arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. And the fact that Joohyun will be bouncing around in a skirt has nothing to do with your sudden love for sports?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Yerim shot back, her smirk widening. “Just don’t drool on your camera lens.”

Yerim had a point, though. You had met her in a media law class last year, bonding over your shared major and mutual love for Ariana Grande. Since then, you'd become close friends, sharing everything from class notes to hangover remedies. Yerim had a knack for reading you like an open book, which was both a blessing and a curse.

You both reached the field, and your breath caught in your throat as your gaze zeroed in on the cheerleaders warming up on the sidelines.

Your eyes found Joohyun almost immediately, as if drawn to her like a moth to a very, very hot flame. Joohyun, with her long, silky brunette hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, was impossible to miss. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves, catching the sunlight with every effortless toss of her head. She was short - barely 5’3”- but every inch of her was perfectly proportioned, from her slightly toned legs that peeked out from under her cheer skirt to the soft, delicate features of her face. Joohyun looked like she’d stepped out of a dream, all elegance and confidence wrapped in a cheer uniform that somehow made her both sweet and dangerously alluring at the same time.

She twirled a pom-pom, laughing at something one of her teammates said, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

Bae Joohyun wasn’t just a cheerleader. She was practically campus royalty. A psychology major with plans to go to law school, Joohyun had a reputation for being not only drop-dead gorgeous but also frighteningly smart. She had a soothing voice that made her a favorite at the college radio station where she hosted a show once a week and probably had a fan club just for the way she said, “Good morning.”

For you, the crush had started last year in the most cliché way possible. You’d been covering a student rally, trying to capture the perfect shot of the crowd, when Joohyun had stepped up to the microphone. The crowd had quieted instantly, hanging on her every word. You focused on getting the perfect shot, but when you looked up through the lens and saw Joohyun’s face, something had clicked.

There was a passion in Joohyun’s voice, a fire that matched the intensity of her gaze. She had spoken about the importance of mental health with a conviction that was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just that Joohyun was beautiful—though she definitely was. It was that she seemed to care so deeply, to be so fully herself, that it drew you in like nothing else had.

Since then, you’d found herself “accidentally” ending up anywhere Joohyun might be, even if it was just to catch a glimpse from afar.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Yerim said, snapping a picture of the team’s star player, Choi Minho, as he jogged onto the field. “You’ve been swooning over her for, what, months now?”

“Not gonna happen,” you denied vehemently, shaking your head. “Not while she’s with Minho, and not unless I know for sure she even likes girls. Plus, someone like her going for someone like me? Yeah, right.”

Yerim snorted. “You say that like you’re not a catch. Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, like I’m the weird girl with the camera who’s always lurking in the background,” you chuckled.

“Or maybe like she’s trying not to blush every time you’re within a hundred feet,” Yerim retorted.

You would like to believe Yerim, but the idea of Joohyun returning your feelings felt about as likely as you becoming a professional soccer player overnight. Still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up at the thought.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, zooming in on Minho as he made a perfect pass. But your mind wandered back to that rally last year. Joohyun had been captivating then, and she was just as captivating now. The crush that had started in that moment had only grown, fed by every little thing you had learned about her since.

“Hey,” Yerim snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Practice is wrapping up. Let’s go get those interviews before you lose your mind.”

“Right,” you said, lowering the camera. You had a job to do—a story to tell. But as you headed toward the team, your gaze lingered on Joohyun for just a moment longer. What was it about her that made your heart do that little flip every time you saw her? It was ridiculous, really. A crush on a girl you could never be with.

And with that thought, you followed Yerim toward the team, ready to get these interviews over with…

As you wrapped up the interview with Minho, he wiped the sweat from his brow and flashed you a charming grin. The guy was a natural during interviews, confident and effortlessly likable. You thanked him for his time, making sure to capture one last shot of him before lowering your camera.

"Good luck this season," you said, trying to sound more professional and less like you’d been daydreaming about his girlfriend half the time. How unprofessional.

"Thanks," Minho replied, flashing a bright smile. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

As he turned to jog back to his teammates, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Joohyun walking toward the field. She moved with that same effortless grace, her hair shining under the late afternoon sun and was making a beeline for Minho, tiptoeing adorably to kiss his cheek.

Of course, you thought to yourself, trying not to make a face. They were dating. You knew this. Everyone knew this. Still, knowing it didn’t make the sight any easier to watch.

You couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. This wasn’t some romantic drama where a smile meant destiny was at play. No, this was just real life, and in real life, Joohyun didn’t even know your name.

“Come on, let’s head out,” Yerim called from a few feet away, waving her phone in the air. You nodded, following her lead.

As you both made your way off the field, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind, the one you’d been trying to avoid all week.

Classes were starting next Monday, and with them came the embarrassing reality that you, a junior, would be sitting in Journalism 1 like a freshman.

It wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your academic journey. You’d planned to take Journalism 1 ages ago, but thanks to a mix-up in your scheduling during your first year, you’d ended up prioritizing other courses. By the time you realized the mistake, all the Journalism 1 sections were full.

So here you were, entering your junior year and still having to take an introductory class. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but the idea of sitting through lectures you probably could have passed two years ago was a little silly.

“Lost in thought again?” Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She gave you a knowing look as you both reached the parking lot. “Let me guess, you’re freaking out about J1 again?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a shrug, trying to downplay it. “It’s just…I don’t know. I should be past all that by now.”

Yerim snorted, adjusting her sunglasses. “You’ll be fine. Besides, who cares? It’s just a class.”

“Yeah, but still,” you sighed. “It’s not exactly ideal.”

Yerim lightly slapped your shoulder, snorting off your concerns. “Don’t worry so much. You already have experience making stories for the school paper and radio. What’s an intro class with Professor Kim anyway? She loves you.”

You cracked a smile, recalling how you earned Professor Kim’s approval in Media Law and Ethics, which were two of the hardest classes within your program. “You’re right. It’s just an intro class.”

“Of course I am,” she said, holding her growling stomach. “Now, let’s go grab some food. I’m starving.”

Monday arrived with an unexpected sense of calm. You strolled across campus, your bag slung over your shoulder and a spring in your step. The weekend had been fun catching up with all your friends, and your first few classes that morning went better than expected.

But now, as you approached the door to Journalism 1, that confidence started to waver. You’d been riding high all day, but the reality of walking into a freshman-heavy class was suddenly weighing on you.

You paused outside the classroom, staring at the door. It was just a class. Just an hour, and then you’d be done for the day.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was already filling up with fresh faces. You scanned the rows of desks, looking for a spot where you could blend in. After a moment, you settled into a seat toward the back, hoping to go unnoticed.

As you pulled out your notebook and laptop, you caught snippets of conversations from the students around you. They were buzzing with excitement about writing for the school paper or getting their hands on some broadcast work. You smiled, remembering the time you had been as eager and wide-eyed.

The door swung open again, and you glanced up out of habit. When you saw who had walked in, your heart skipped a beat - Joohyun.

Your mind immediately went into overdrive. What was she doing here? This was just some intro class. Joohyun was a psych major. Surely she didn’t need to be here too. Yet, there she was, making her way into the room with that grace you admired from afar. She didn’t seem to notice you as she scanned the room for a seat.

You quickly ducked your head, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. The last thing you needed was for Joohyun to catch you staring. As fate would have it, she ended up sitting just a few rows ahead of you. Close enough that you couldn’t help but notice every time she shifted in her seat. Great.

The lecture began as Professor Kim walked in, her presence instantly commanding the room. You’d taken a few classes with her before, so you knew she was the type to keep things moving quickly. After a brief introduction, she jumped right into the syllabus.

“Welcome to Journalism 1,” Professor Kim began, her tone brisk. “I know some of you are here because you’re excited about journalism, some because it’s a requirement, and some because, well, you need the credits.” A few chuckles rippled through the room, and you allowed yourself a small smile.

She went on to explain the course structure—lectures, assignments, workshops—but it was when she reached the partner project that your attention fully snapped back.

“As part of this course, you’ll be working on a partner project,” Professor Kim announced, scanning the room. “This will be an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in a practical way. You’ll be paired in a few weeks, and I expect each team to produce a piece of journalism that could be print, broadcast, or multimedia. This counts as the final of this class so you will have the second half of the semester to work on it.”

You swallowed hard. Partner projects were always a bit of a gamble. It could mean working with someone who’d pull their weight, or it could mean babysitting.

“Now, before anyone panics,” Professor Kim continued with a faint smile, “I want to reassure you that I’m here to help, and so are your classmates. In fact, I see a familiar face in the crowd.” Her eyes landed on you, and you froze.

“Ah, yes, there you are,” Professor Kim said, her smile growing. “I’m sure many of you don’t know this yet, but we have a bit of an expert with us today. She’s done excellent work for the school newspaper and the college news station, and she excelled in my previous classes.” You felt your cheeks flush as several heads turned in your direction. So much for flying under the radar.

“So, if you have questions about storytelling, pitching ideas, or even how to juggle deadlines, don’t hesitate to ask her,” Professor Kim added, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “She’s a great resource.”

You managed a weak smile and a nod, trying to look like you weren’t about to melt into your chair. Inside, though, your nerves were high. Being called out like that was the last thing you’d expected. You’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, especially with Joohyun just a few rows ahead.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, your mind racing with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. What if you ended up paired with Joohyun for the project? Like that would happen.

As Professor Kim wrapped up the class and dismissed everyone, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape. You slung you bag over your shoulder and made a beeline for the door, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters.

But as you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back. Joohyun was still in the classroom, slowly packing her things. She didn’t seem to notice you at all, and for once, you were grateful. You needed time to figure out how you were going to navigate the rest of the semester…

The media center had always been your safe place, the place where you could bury yourself in work and forget about everything else. The familiar hum of activity filled the space as students shuffled between the school newspaper and the college radio station. The faint sound of music from the radio station’s booth mixed with the low murmur of conversations, and you felt your shoulders relax a little as you made your way to your usual spot near the back.

You practically lived here, spending countless hours on projects, hanging out with the news and radio staff. Today was no different, except for one thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joohyun showing up in Journalism 1. You were halfway through editing some soundbites for the soccer team’s story when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Look who survived!" Yerim’s voice rang out, dripping with playful sarcasm. She plopped down into the chair next to you, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "How was J1 and how does it feel to be Professor Kim’s golden child?"

You groaned, regretting that you texted Yerim everything that happened and ran a hand through your hair. "Don’t remind me. I was trying to hide. Now everyone’s gonna think I’m some know-it-all."

Yerim snickered. "Please. Half those freshmen probably think you’re a TA or something. They’ll be asking you for help with their shit by the end of the week."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "Just what I needed. More work."

"So, tell me," Yerim leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What’s this about Bae Joohyun being in your class? You nearly faint when you saw her?"

"Not quite," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. "But yeah, she’s in J1. No idea why, though."

Yerim raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Seriously? What’s she doing in intro courses? She’s like, Miss Campus Everything."

"That’s what I was wondering," you replied, mindlessly fiddling with a pen. "I didn’t get a chance to ask her, obviously. I figured she’d be in some psych courses, not sitting through the basics of journalism."

Yerim snorted. "Maybe she’s got a secret passion for headline writing. Or she’s just there to watch you squirm."

"Ha ha, very funny," you shot back, though the thought of Joohyun silently judging you made your stomach twist. "I’m just curious, okay? It’s not every day someone like her shows up like that."

Before Yerim could respond, a familiar face appeared in the doorway, Changmin, the station manager. He was juggling a stack of papers and his ever-present coffee mug, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But despite his appearance, there was a warmth about him that made everyone feel welcome.

"Hey, Changmin!" Yerim called out, waving him over. "You got a minute?"

Changmin ambled over, setting his papers down on the nearest table. "Always got a minute for you two," he said, his voice tinged with that familiar fatherly tone he used whenever he spoke to his "media kids."

He took a sip of his coffee, looking at you both with kind eyes. "What’s on your minds?"

"We were just talking about Joohyun," Yerim said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "Apparently, she’s in J1 with this one." She pointed at you. "Any idea why she’s slumming it with us peasants?"

Changmin’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, and then he smiled, nodding as if something had clicked into place. "Ah, yes. She mentioned that to me last week when she stopped by the station. She’s minoring in broadcasting, so J1 is a requirement for her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Broadcasting? Really?"

"Yup," He confirmed. "She’s got big plans, wants to do more on-air work and maybe even take on some anchoring for the morning news. She’s driven and looking to learn as much as she can."

"Wow, I’m down so bad," you groaned, feeling a mix of awe and admiration. What couldn’t this woman do?

Yerim patted your back, though you could hear the laughter in her voice. "Chill. You’re gonna be just fine. If anything, this is your chance to impress her with your charm and expertise. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up partners for that J1 project."

"Yeah, right," you muttered, though the idea made your heart race. “Knowing my luck, I’ll get paired with someone who doesn’t even show up to class.”

Changmin shook his head with a smile, gathering up his papers from the table. "Good luck with that. And hey, if you do end up working with her on that project, just be yourself. You’ve got plenty of experience to share, and she’s smart enough to appreciate that."

You felt a bit of the tension in your chest ease. Changmin had a way of making everything seem okay, like you could handle whatever came your way. "Thanks, Changmin. That… actually helps a lot."

“Anytime,” he smiled warmly, “Just remember - you’re here because you love what you do, and that passion is going to carry you through, no matter who’s in the class with you."

With that, he gave you both a reassuring nod and headed out the door, leaving you feeling more grounded than you had all day.

Yerim turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, what’s the game plan now? You gonna impress her with your skills?"

"Or," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I could just try not to trip over my own feet in front of her."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Yerim teased. "But seriously, this could be your chance to show her what you’re made of."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the butterflies in your stomach. "We’ll see. I’m not even sure if she’s into girls like that. For now, I’m just gonna take it one class at a time."

Yerim grinned, giving you a mock salute. "That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need any tips on charming her, I’m always here."

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the soccer field. The air buzzed with anticipation as the men’s soccer team warmed up for their first game of the season against a visiting school. You were stationed near the sidelines, camera in hand, ready to capture the action for the upcoming story you were working on. This game would be a key piece of the puzzle, the team’s first real test of the season.

You adjusted your lens, focusing on Minho as he led the team through drills, his every move sharp and precise, though his gaze drifted to the stands every so often, like his mind was somewhere else. The team was hyped for the season, with high expectations from everyone around them. But your attention wasn’t fully on Minho or the players. No, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joohyun.

Ever since you found out she was in Journalism 1, you couldn’t stop wondering about her. And now, here you were again, on the same field where you’d seen her just last week, except this time, you knew a little more about her goals and ambitions. Broadcasting. It made perfect sense, really.

"Hey," Yerim’s voice broke through your thoughts as she appeared by your side, her usual teasing grin in place. "You’re not drooling over Minho, are you? Because that would make things even weirder."

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "As if. I’m just trying to get the perfect shot."

"Uh-huh," Yerim said, jokingly denying your response. She nudged you playfully with her elbow. "So, what’s the deal? Are you gonna make a move on Joohyun? Or are you still playing the long game?"

"I’m not playing anything," you sighed, adjusting your camera to focus on another player. "She has a boyfriend, and I’m not exactly keen on being a homewrecker."

"Well, you know what they say," Yerim wiggled her brows, leaning against the fence. "Never let your boyfriend get in the way of you finding your wife. Maybe you’ll get partnered up for the big project and bond over broadcasting."

You snorted. "Or I’ll just end up partnered with some random person."

"Optimism isn’t your strong suit, is it?" Yerim clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "You never know. Stranger things have happened."

Just then, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You glanced up from your camera and, unsurprisingly, saw Joohyun walking onto the field with the other cheerleaders. They were here to support the team, of course, and Joohyun looked as perfect as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she wore the red and white cheer uniform that seemed to hug her body so well.

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do whenever she was around, and you cursed yourself for it. This was getting sad.

Yerim followed your gaze, her grin widening. "Speak of the devil," she said, her tone practically singing. "Maybe she’ll come over here. Give you a chance to work that journalistic charm."

"Sure," you muttered, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "She’s here with her team to support the guys, duh."

But as fate would have it, Joohyun’s path did seem to be leading her closer to where you stood. She waved at a few friends as she made her way toward the sidelines, but then her eyes landed on you. For a brief moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. Should you wave? Smile? Pretend you hadn’t seen her at all?

Joohyun didn’t seem to have any hesitation, though. She gave you a small, polite smile and a nod as she passed by, her gaze lingering just a second longer than you expected. It wasn’t much - just a brief moment of acknowledgment - but it was enough to make you almost crazy.

Yerim nudged you again, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you see that? She smiled at you! Oh my god, this is progress. We’re making moves!"

"Calm down," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was just a smile. She smiles at everyone at games."

"Yeah, but she smiled at you and I’m standing here like a snack," Yerim insisted, her grin widening. "That’s gotta mean something."

You shook your head, “You’re being delusional, Yerim.”

Before she could respond, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the scrimmage. The players took their positions on the field, and you quickly turned your attention back to your camera.

Throughout the game, you found yourself glancing over at Joohyun more than you intended to. Every time you tried to focus on the action on the field, your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to where she stood, cheering with that infectious enthusiasm. Her smile seemed to light up the entire stadium, brighter than the field lights themselves.

But then it happened. She caught you staring. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze collided with hers, and for a split second, you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. Joohyun met your eyes and gave you another smile, one that felt warm, but suddenly it made you feel exposed.

You quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your camera settings, but the embarrassment lingered. God, she probably thinks I’m a creep, you thought, mentally kicking yourself.

As the game wore on, you put those thoughts aside to focus on the story. By the time the final whistle blew, you were more relieved than anything. The match had been tense, and you were just glad it was over. The team celebrated their hard-fought win, and you lowered your camera, ready to pack up and call it a day.

But then, Minho had to pull his jersey over his face in celebration, revealing a perfectly toned set of abs and stealing the attention of his fangirls and fanboys. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, he has abs, you thought, trying to suppress the mild envy creeping in

"Well, that was fun," Yerim said, stretching as she stood up. "So, what’s the plan now? You gonna stick around for interviews, or are we grabbing food?"

"I need to get a few more shots and talk to the coach about the game," you replied, packing up your gear. "But after that, food sounds good."

"Cool. I’ll wait for you by the bleachers," Yerim said, chucking up a peace sign. "Try not to let Joohyun distract you too much."

You rolled your eyes as she walked off, but you couldn’t help but smile…

You and Yerim walked across campus, the fliers in your hands feeling heavier with every step. The afternoon sun was sitting high in the sky, and you were starting to regret your life choices - mainly, why you agreed to this. Promoting the annual college radio event wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially knowing it had the energy of a retirement home bingo night.

"I still can’t believe you volunteered for this," Yerim said, holding up a flier like it was a tragic masterpiece. "No one ever shows up, except for a few lost freshmen."

You sighed, pinning another flier to the bulletin board outside the student center. "I know, but Changmin looked desperate. And I already feel guilty knowing it’ll probably be a flop, so I figured I’d help out."

Yerim gave you an exaggerated look of pity. "This is like going from your prime time slot to a 2 a.m. infomercial. What’s next, counting ceiling tiles in the library?"

"Maybe," you muttered. "At least it’d be quiet."

Yerim rolled her eyes and smirked. "You’re such an old lady."

You chuckled, knowing it was half-true. As you both made your way to the psychology department, where there were a few more pinboards, your attention suddenly caught on something or rather, someone.

Joohyun.

She was standing near the water fountain, refilling her water bottle, her calm, collected presence making your stomach do that fluttery thing again. The memory of the game popped back into your mind, specifically, the part where she caught you staring at her like a total creep. You’d been trying to shake off the embarrassment ever since.

Yerim noticed her too, and the familiar mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. "Hey, isn’t that your favorite cheerleader?" she whispered, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Now’s your chance. Go say hi."

You shot her an exasperated look. "Why would I do that? She probably doesn’t even know my name. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the person who stared at you during the game’?"

Yerim smirked, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Oh, come on. She’s probably forgotten all about it. Just go over there, act normal, and don’t bring up your little staring contest."

You sighed, trying to focus on the pinboard in front of you instead of the fact that Joohyun was literally ten feet away. "You’re making this sound easy."

"Well, if you’re not going to do it yourself, I’ll just have to help you along," Yerim said, and before you could protest, she not-so-subtly nudged you in Joohyun’s direction.

You stumbled forward, barely catching yourself as you nearly collided with Joohyun. She turned around just in time to see you regaining your balance, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" you blurted out, awkwardly clutching your stack of fliers. "I didn’t see you there."

Joohyun blinked, then offered you a polite smile. "That’s okay. It happens."

Yerim, who had positioned herself conveniently nearby, was failing miserably at pretending not to be entertained by the whole situation. You could feel her eyes boring into you, silently egging you on.

"Uh, how’s it going?" you asked, internally cringing at how generic that sounded.

"Good," Joohyun replied, her tone soft. She glanced at the fliers in your hands. "Hanging up fliers?"

"Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just helping out with some promotions. You know, the usual."

She nodded, her expression still neutral. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to make you start to sweat, before she offered you a small smile. "You’re always working hard, aren’t you?"

Your brain stalled. For a second, you weren’t sure you heard her right. Joohyun noticed you? You, the girl who had been trying to stay invisible this entire time? Your mouth went dry as your mind raced to come up with a response, something coherent at least, but all that came out was, “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Great. Really nailed it. You could practically feel Yerim’s second-hand embarrassment radiating from a few feet away, but Joohyun didn’t seem fazed. In fact, her smile lingered, like she was waiting for you to say more.

"I mean, I like staying busy," you added hastily, trying to recover. Your heart hammered in your chest as you searched her face for any sign of amusement or judgment, but all you saw was that same curiosity. It was unnerving, yet kind of thrilling.

“Well, it shows,” Joohyun said, giving a small nod before glancing at the stack of fliers in your hands. "Good luck with the event."

And just like that, she turned to leave, her water bottle in hand, leaving you standing there, gripping the fliers like a lifeline.

It took a second for your brain to catch up to the rest of your body, the interaction replaying in your mind on a loop. She noticed you. She thought you worked hard. You wanted to feel proud, but all you could focus on was the fact that Joohyun noticed you.

Behind you, Yerim’s muffled laughter broke through the haze of disbelief. "Oh my god, you should see yourself. You’re totally blushing!”

You tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I-I’m not, the AC in here sucks," you mumbled, even though it was perfectly cool and ventilated throughout the building.

As you moved on to the next pinboard, you replayed the brief conversation with Joohyun in your mind, chastising yourself for every little mistake you made but also a little proud you didn’t spontaneously combust in front her. Well, a win is a win…

It had been a few weeks since you hung fliers in the psychology department, awkwardly bumping into Joohyun. Since then, your time in the media center had dwindled. Other students on the school paper were eager to get their hands on some sports stories, and you were more than happy to give them the reigns. Besides, the break gave you a chance to slow down and focus on other things like keeping up with your classes, helping your peers, and seeing Joohyun in Journalism 1 twice a week.

You couldn’t exactly say things had changed much between you and Joohyun. You still admired her from afar, barely making eye contact during class, and any passing interactions were short-lived. But today, Professor Kim was ramping things up with the partner project, and your mind buzzed with nerves and anticipation.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Professor Kim’s voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You've all been building your skills over the last few weeks, and now it’s time to put them into practice with a partner project."

Your stomach twisted. The partner project? Already? You glanced around the room as a few students exchanged looks. This was going to be interesting.

“You and your partner will be interviewing each other,” Professor Kim continued, pacing at the front of the classroom. “Twenty minutes each, so forty minutes in total. I want you and your partner to find something newsworthy to report on based on your interviews. Whether it's a unique hobby, an unusual experience, or a surprising interest. You’ll need to research your partner beforehand. Stalk them a bit on social media, Google them, find out whatever you can. Then, write 8 to 10 questions for the interview which will be due by class next Monday, and next Wednesday there will be no class, so you have time to interview your partner.”

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, being paired with someone who didn’t care about the project. Or worse, being paired with Joohyun. You gulped at the thought.

“The final story will be collaborative," Professor Kim continued, "There are different requirements for the project depending on the medium of your choice - print, audio, or video, but the details of that are on the syllabus.”

Professor Kim then held up a small hat, clearly excited about what was coming next. “Half of you will tear out a piece of paper, write your name, and drop it into this hat. The other half will draw a name, announce it, and that will be your partner.”

The class groaned, but you could tell some people were excited. You, however, were trying to calculate the odds of not getting paired with Joohyun.

You watched as the first half of the class, including Joohyun, scribbled their names on pieces of paper and dropped them into the hat. You were in the second half, the group tasked with pulling names. As the hat slowly circled around the room, Professor Kim paused at each student to let them pick.

Your heart pounded harder with every name that was read aloud.

“Kim Minjeong.”

“Jung Jaehyun.”

“Jimin—oh, great…”

One by one, names were called out, and with each one, you felt a strange mixture of relief and rising panic. The hat finally made its way to you. Your hands were clammy as you reached in, fishing around until you grabbed a small slip of paper.

Please don’t be Joohyun, please don’t be Joohyun, you chanted in your head.

You opened the slip of paper.

“Bae… Joohyun.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You felt your stomach drop as the room went quiet. You could feel the eyes on you—mostly Yerim’s, though her smug face was nowhere to be seen—and you froze, struggling to keep your cool. When you finally glanced up, Joohyun was looking directly at you, her expression calm but curious.

You swallowed hard, trying to seem composed. You definitely didn’t feel composed.

Professor Kim smiled and nodded. “Great. Everyone else has their partners. Before you leave, I want you to exchange contact information, introduce yourselves, though I assume most of you already know each other, and plan a time to meet.”

You stayed seated for a moment, dreading the thought of standing up and walking over to Joohyun. But you had to do it. You have to be professional, you reminded yourself.

After taking a deep breath, you stood, your legs feeling a little shaky, and walked over to Joohyun’s desk, where she was quietly packing her things. She looked up as you approached, smiling shyly.

“H-hey,” you stammered, nerves kicking in as you awkwardly slid into the seat beside her. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Joohyun nodded with a cute smile. “Looks like it.”

“So, um… we should figure out when to meet for the interviews,” you said, trying to sound normal but feeling anything but with her watching you with bright eyes.

“Yeah,” Joohyun agreed easily. “How about next Wednesday? Or whenever works for you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Sure, that works! I mean, Wednesday’s good for me.”

An awkward pause followed, and you could feel your heart racing as the silence stretched. Desperate to seem less weird, you pulled out your phone - only to fumble it like a hot potato, sending it flying onto the desk with a loud clatter. Joohyun burst out laughing, the sound completely unfiltered.

“Well,” she said moments later, her body shaking slightly with silent laughter, “at least I’m not the only one a little nervous about the project.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning. If only she knew it wasn’t the project making you nervous. “I—I guess we’re in this together,” you mumbled, feeling both embarrassed and relieved.

Joohyun’s smile softened as she picked up your phone and handed it back. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

You thanked her quietly, your hands brushing for a brief second as you exchanged contact info. The awkward tension between you both started to fade, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Joohyun, despite her reputation, seemed just as shy by the end of class.

“See you next time,” she said gently, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” you replied, your heart still pounding. “See you.”

As you left the classroom, you pulled out your phone and shot Yerim a quick text.

You (2:33 pm): Guess what? Just got paired with Bae fucking Joohyun for the project.

Her response came back instantly.

Yerim (2:33 pm) ??? are you breathing ???

You nearly choked on a laugh, tucking your phone away. Maybe, just maybe, this project wouldn’t be so bad after all…

The hum of the café provided the perfect background noise as you tried to clear your mind. After a whirlwind week of classes, getting off campus was a much needed escape. The coffee shop you and Yerim had chosen was small, tucked away in a quiet corner of town, just the kind of spot you both liked.

You took a sip of your favorite coffee, the warmth calming your nerves, as you stared at the blank document on your laptop. Interview questions. That’s what you were supposed to be working on. The project with Joohyun was real now, and it was your job to research her and draft some thoughtful questions.

But professionalism wasn’t exactly what was on your mind.

You glanced around the café, making sure Yerim wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in her own laptop, typing furiously. Thinking the coast was clear, you pulled up Joohyun’s Instagram on your phone. You’d looked her up before, obviously. Long before this project was even a thing. But back then, her profile had been private. You’d debated sending her a follow request so many times, but always chickened out.

Now, though? You were following each other.

Joohyun had texted you a few days ago, asking for your social media handles. Just seeing her name pop up on your screen had made your heart skip a beat. Bae Joohyun. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine she was texting you for something more. But the excitement faded as soon as you saw her message—it was just about the project.

You sighed and pushed that memory aside as you scrolled through her feed. Her profile was clean, simple, and exactly what you’d expect. Lots of scenic shots, some sunsets, quiet moments in nature. There were a few selfies, where she looked effortlessly stunning, of course. Then, there were the photos of her with Minho.

They seemed happy. A handful of pictures together, tagged at restaurants and casual days out. That familiar twist of disappointment crept up.

"Looking up your new girlfriend, I see?" Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You fumbled, nearly dropping your phone. "What? No!"

Yerim raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Sure, sure. You’re not being very subtle here."

You groaned, putting your phone down. "It’s for the questions I have to come up with. And how many times do I have to remind you about her boyfriend?”

"Ah, yes, perfect Minho," Yerim said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "But you’ve got something too. Maybe not trophies, fame, and abs just yet but you’re a cutie who has a knack for chatting people up.”

You snorted, shaking your head. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Yerim grinned. "Anytime. But seriously, stop creeping on her Instagram and focus on your work, weirdo.”

You walked briskly across campus, your nerves fluttering as you neared the media center. Today was the interview with Joohyun, and while you’d snagged a cozy room filled with snacks and drinks to make things more comfortable, it was hard to shake the anxiety. Joohyun was your partner, and the idea of interviewing her still felt surreal.

Professor Kim’s constant reminder to “dress professionally” echoed in your mind as you tugged at the fitted oxford grey long-sleeve top you wore. The black slacks and boots completed the look, giving you an air of confidence you weren’t entirely sure you felt. Looking the part seemed to be half the battle.

As you approached the media center, you spotted Joohyun waiting by the room door, looking effortlessly composed in a black V-neck sweater tucked into sleek black pants, her low-heeled boots completing the outfit. If Steve Jobs had gone full-on fashion icon, it would be Joohyun. She looked like a young hot CEO of a multibillion-dollar company.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just as you reached for the door, you heard Changmin’s voice behind you.

“Well, don’t you two look serious,” he said with a playful grin, his coffee mug firmly in hand.

Your face flushed instantly, caught off guard by his teasing. He shot you a knowing wink before heading off, leaving you feeling like he knew far more about your situation than you’d ever told him.

You quickly composed yourself and opened the door, motioning for Joohyun to go in first. “After you,” you said, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

“Thanks,” Joohyun replied, offering you a kind smile as she stepped inside.

You let out a small breath of relief as you followed her into the room, shutting the door behind you. The room was quiet, the snacks laid out neatly on the table, and you both settled in quickly, exchanging small talk on the way. Despite your best efforts to stay calm, Joohyun’s presence had you on edge. It wasn’t that you were inexperienced, you’d done countless interviews before, but interviewing her made it different.

After a minute of organizing your notes, you glanced at Joohyun and noticed something that surprised you. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her fingers twisting the fabric, and she shifted in her seat. For someone who always seemed so poised, she looked nervous herself.

You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, deciding to take a chance. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little… on edge.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not used to doing interviews, especially with someone who’s clearly experienced and really good at what they do.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “You’re nervous because of me?”

She nodded, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of. You’ve done this a lot, and I’m still figuring things out. Plus, Professor Kim seems to think highly of you, so there’s a bit of pressure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joohyun, the campus queen, nervous because of you? The thought was almost unreal, and yet here she was, feeling the same way you had when you first saw her name on the slip of paper.

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Trust me, I’m still figuring things out too. Actually…” You hesitated for a second, nerves bubbling up as you decided whether or not to tell her the story. But seeing her this vulnerable made you want to take the chance. “If you’re up for it, I can tell you about the first time I interviewed someone.”

Joohyun looked intrigued, so you continued, even though the story still made you cringe a little. “It was for the school paper during my first year. I was interviewing one of the professors for a feature piece, and I was so nervous, but he reassured me that I wouldn’t do a bad job. So, I got comfortable eventually. We sat there for probably twenty minutes, and I thought I was being all professional, nodding along and asking good questions. Then I realized the recorder wasn’t even on.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward with a wide grin. “Oh god, what did you do?”

“I panicked,” you chuckled, feeling more relaxed now that she was laughing. “I didn’t want to ask him to do the whole thing again, so I tried to rely on my notes, but they were a mess. It was awful. So, I asked for another interview, but he wasn’t exactly enthused about it.”

Joohyun was laughing fully now, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s amazing. I would’ve died.”

“I almost did,” you said, joining in her laughter. “So, if I can survive that, you can survive this. Trust me.”

The tension between you eased as Joohyun relaxed, her shoulders no longer hunched and her fingers no longer fidgeting with her sweater. “Thanks for sharing that,” she said, still smiling. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “You’re going to do great. And we’re just practicing, right? I’m here to help.”

The interview started smoothly after that. Joohyun’s answers were thoughtful and personal. She talked about psychology and why she was drawn to it, places she’s traveled, and how she balanced her academics with her extracurriculars. She mentioned how photography was a way for her to decompress, especially when she captured photos of the sky and nature, and how there was a small garden on campus that was her favorite spot to think.

By the time it was her turn to interview you, she was much more confident. Her questions were unpresumptuous and relevant. They were about why you chose journalism, what kept you motivated when things got tough, and what got you into photography yourself.

“I saw some of your nature shots,” Joohyun said, her voice thoughtful. “They seem to be mostly pictures taken on hiking trips, is that right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side hobby. It helps me clear my head.”

As she listened carefully to you, you could see her growing more comfortable in the journalist role. By the time the interview wrapped up, the room felt lighter, and you were both sighing with relief.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you teased, packing up your notes.

Joohyun smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxed. “You’re really good at making people feel comfortable. I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. Then, realizing how it might sound, she quickly added, “Not that I didn’t think you could! I just didn’t expect it to be so… easy.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by her sudden fluster. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way at all,” you reassured her. “I’m just glad I could help. And honestly, you did really well too.”

At that, Joohyun’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a small, relieved laugh.

As you both stood to leave, you held the door open for her again, and she glanced back at you with a grateful smile. “Thanks again. Really.”

You returned the gesture, feeling a warm sense of connection. “Anytime.”

As Joohyun walked out, you couldn’t help but feel that things had shifted slightly between you. It wasn’t just about the interview anymore…

After a discussion with Professor Kim and Changmin, you’d finally settled on the next direction of your soccer story. It wasn’t what you had originally planned, but both of them had made a compelling case. A feature on Minho. You’d dig into his struggles growing up and his rise through adversity. It would create the kind of emotional connection that any solid piece of journalism needed. The story wasn’t just solely about soccer anymore. It was the kind of personal journey that would resonate with the audience.

You knew it was great for your portfolio too. It was exactly the type of human-interest story that could set you apart when applying for future jobs. You agreed to it, even though the idea of digging deeper into Minho’s life, with your feelings for Joohyun lurking in the background, made you a little uncomfortable. You could handle this professionally though. You had to.

Later that day, after his practice with the soccer team, you spotted Minho chatting with some of his teammates near the field. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Minho,” you called out, waving slightly as you approached.

He turned to you, a welcoming smile already in place. “Hey! What’s up?”

You adjusted your bag, feeling the weight of it on your shoulder as you tried to keep your tone casual. “I wanted to talk to you about a potential story for the school radio.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I was thinking about doing a feature on you. Something about you and not just soccer, how you’ve gotten to where you are now. I think it would be a really strong piece, but only if you’re up for it, of course.”

Minho’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. “Wow. I don’t know what to say… I mean, I’d be honored. But really? A story on me?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I think people would really connect with it.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Great. I’ll start pulling things together soon, and we can schedule some time for interviews.”

Minho smiled humbly, “Sounds good. Thanks for thinking of me. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said, giving him a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

After getting his contact info, you met up with Yerim at a nearby bar, ready to drink away some of the tension that had been building all week. Three shots in, you were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol loosening up your thoughts. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You saw Joohyun’s name, and your heart did its usual happy flip. You quickly swiped to read her message.

Joohyun (9:17 pm): Hey, when do you want to meet to go over what we should report on from our interviews? I was thinking we could talk about it next week?

You exhaled slowly, the thrill of seeing her name making you grin. Joohyun texting first? A miracle. Her message was all business, which was its own kind of reality check, but hey, she was the one messaging you, and right now, that felt like something.

You had thought about meeting her at one specific place, but that was sober you and you didn’t have the guts to ask. However, with a little liquid courage coursing through your veins, you typed back, smirking to yourself.

You (9:19 pm) Nxt week sounds good, but I have an idea.. wanna go to that boba place on main st. aftr class on monday?

Satisfied, you hit send and dropped the phone back into your pocket, telling yourself you were such a genius for thinking of a way to spend more time with Joohyun, completely unaware of the grave you were digging for yourself…

To be continued...

[hygienic-soap-dispenser]

Hws Nordics as University Students Headcanons

Because I am a suffering student and you need to suffer with me <3

Denmark

The clown of the group

Has trouble focusing/paying attention

Will use other Nordics in group study session with the goal of body doubling to keep each other in check and focused, but often devolves to laughing and banter instead

Offers good moral support and asks a lot of questions in class, has great participation marks, but can go off topic

Rallies people to meet when need to discuss group projects, again he is great moral support

When writing he either cannot write anything or speed types and hyperfocuses, no in-between

Appears self-confident and social but can actually struggle with self esteem and seeming like he's incompetent or "too much" for people, tries to compensate by being extra likeable and useful

Bonds with people over humor, socializing and making friends are more important than grades to him

Only chooses classes that interest him, does surprisingly well as a result

The most likely of the Nordics to be late for class

Goes to a lot of college parties

Sweden

The mom of the group, always checking in on people and making sure everyone feels included

Reformed high school bully, but still gossips with Norway about classmates and faculty

Has very high standards for himself and his work, will force people in his group projects to do at least 2 rounds of editing

Can really get in the zone and hyperfocuses when studying, but to do that he needs his noise cancelling headphones, his stim toy, perfect room temperature, comfy study clothes, and his daily ritual to actually start

Refuses to pull all-nighters to finish assignments, sleep is more important to him (king)

Is professional with group projects, is calm and good with delegating work

At the same time, he is very opinionated and loves to debate people in and out of class. Often argues with specific students

Easily overwhelmed from noises, activities, and group projects, needs to find quiet places to hide

Gets good grades, professors either love him or forget he exists

Is part of some interest clubs, like for art and woodworking

Norway

The mysterious hottie who sits in the back of class

Hates group projects, doesn't contribute much to them unless it's with his favourite people (other Nordics, specifically Sweden)

Doesn't contribute much in class, but when he does it is good

The class health nut, goes out for 6 am and 11 pm jogs (he is insane)

Also tbh he gives off the vibe of someone who'd be a health nut but also really into drugs at the same time?? Like he does sports and yoga and tracks his water consumption and macros but at the same time experiments with drugs to "expand his spiritual worldview"?

Is fine with concentration, doesn't really struggle unless there's a lot going on in his head at the time

On that topic, he frequents the counseling and medical clinic. There have been rumors about his frequent medical visits...

His writing is okay, nothing to write home about, but then sometimes can get very poetic and profound, especially when it's a personal topic

Gossips a lot with Sweden, they like to people watch together

Skips a lot of classes, somehow still passes

Finland

Perfectionist and an over-achiever, bases a lot of his self-worth on grades. Will get upset if he gets anything below an A-

Can feel like he's in a competition with classmates for good grades and approval from professors, will ask a lot of questions and tries to start discussions in class

Will talk to the professor right after the end of the 1st class to introduce himself and establish dominance

Tries to humble brag about school and his work ethic by telling classmates how often he crams and pulls all-nighters

Very anxious about grades, always does well (at the cost of his mental health)

Mostly sustains himself on energy drinks and coffee

Doesn't like group projects because he thinks no one else cares about doing well as much as he does

This isn't helped by the fact that he has trust issues and thinks others will let him down

Frequents the counseling center and medical clinic on campus. The former because of stress and trauma which worsens school stress, the latter because of medical issues as a result of said stress

Professors either love him or hate him

Despite how he acts in class he's actually a people-pleaser, but his over-achieving nature can be hard to deal with

Goes to the campus gym at least once a week to lift weights, probably part of the school hockey club

If he survives, will pursue graduate school

Iceland

The freshman, trying to figure things out

Thinks that because he did well in high school he'll have an easy time in university (he won't and will be humbled)

Sits in the back of class but secretly wants to sit up front with the "nerds", doesn't want to risk making a fool of himself

Overanalyzes group projects and panics. Double/triple checks his work before sending in his contributions because he wants to seem competent in their eyes

Usually reserved but once he opens up will say the most out of pocket things, sometimes it slips in his quiet phase

Surprisingly, is among the worst of the Nordics in terms of grades. This is mainly because he is unconfident in his own work and views, so he often ends up self-sabotaging his work or doing the bare minimum

His friends are his main priority in school, not grades

Like Fin, is a people-pleaser. Unlike Fin, he is easy to get along with

[cloveroctobers]

HOME | 1 of 2 SERVINGS — JJ MAYBANK x OC [Fall Randoms] 🤎

A/N: This wasn't planned! The fandom makes it a little unenjoyable to write for this show but I like many have always had a soft spot for JJ. So here I am, after a while writing something because he deserves it.

WARNINGS: Language + better endings (delusions)! & the usual banter between the rest of the pogues like a family would! + Kiara x femOC as well.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔

IN A PERFECT WORLD no one would have to worry about a thing. People would live exactly the way they want to live without any judgment—as long as you’re not harming others of course—and just go on about their business.

Life’s good because it all worked out in the end.

The comforting thudding of a certain heartbeat only made Alma want to bury her head further into his chest. It was a common morning routine, waking up in each other’s embrace. The insomnia didn’t bother Alma much anymore, she can speak for herself on that, because the longer she stayed awake, the longer time she had. This journey through earth goes by as fast as you blink. This bothered JJ to his core, that after all this time, Morocco was still on her mind—not only that but Portugal too.

No amount of pills or melatonin (or "the purple devil," she liked to call it) was a friend of Almabelle Layton’s. Unfortunately in her teen years she was a bit of a pill popper, it all started because of her mild case of vertigo and her mother—whenever she decided to fly back into the OBX for a couple of days—forced her to go to the doctor, after getting tired of her daughter constantly choosing weed over “proper” health.

Alma was a huge advocate for natural remedies, knowing that majority of the medicine given to you is nothing but poison, since it may fix one problem but cause another.

We can talk about that at another time, though!

Regardless she’s grown used to being up with the moonlight and sunrise just monitoring JJ’s heartbeat. It wasn’t healthy by any means, she didn’t need a therapist (Dr. Montague) to tell her that but this brought her relief. Every morning, JJ would squeeze her shoulder and kiss the top of her head, voice full of sleep while he wished her a good morning.

Then she would respond with pressing a kiss to the old wounds of his abdomen from five years ago, 1-4-3 times before lifting her head to meet his hues of blue-green. The hand that didn’t hold onto her shoulder, would run a thumb along the rings underneath her eyes. He’d tried to hide the worry in his own but a soft smile was still on the corner of his lips the longer he looked at her.

She always had his heart so he felt like she didn’t have to listen too hard.

Never in a million years would JJ believe you (Reader) or a physic? If they told him this is where his life would be now. Owner of two properties, with his childhood home being transformed into an adoption agency. However with the treacherous adventure to get the blue crown, and all that they went through to get it back, it was only right that he did something that made sense.

JJ talked about it constantly with Alma and even mentioned it to the rest, who were skeptical but once it was pulled off, there were equal amounts of pride in their eyes at the grand opening. So where was his physical home? JJ got the Genrette home after the whole DNA testing process and the will was brought to his attention.

Let’s just say, shout-out to Paw-Wes!

“Is it weird that I’m choosing this place over my own home?” Alma remembers JJ asking her, after she plopped down on one of the old couches and tried not to inhale any dust.

He was walking all around the heavily decorated living room, touching any and everything. This was the day right after he agreed to take on the Genrette residence permanently.

Alma lightly shook her head, her short dark hair falling into the corner of her eyelashes, “No, I think you’re choosing what’s best for you and there’s nothing wrong with that. You get the chance to choose now because baby JJ didn’t, your mother didn’t.”

And there’s a new glint in his eye at Alma’s words when he plops beside her. Her hand goes to rest on top of the one JJ has resting on his knee. Immediately he intertwined their hands, peering into Alma’s ink colored eyes. “Thanks for being here with me, Kit.”

“Course, pumpkin.” She replies with her own personal nickname, before resting her head on his shoulder.

Building a home here, gave JJ the chance to know a family he never had the privilege to. It was a ball of emotions but he took it on because he felt like he needed to. A new beginning on his own terms this time around. To try to be close to what could have been, but also finding what always felt like what was missing in his life and holding on to it as best as he could. Although they couldn’t be physically here, JJ made it his mission to have talks with both Larissa and Wes out in the mausoleum often.

That was a project Alma took on, cleaning it up while paying her respects. It was sort of a birthday gift to JJ and once received, he thought he couldn’t love Almabelle anymore than he already did. Of course he could have paid someone to continue with the upkeep of his relatives but the pogues weren’t meant to accept handouts. It was all work hard and play hard. Being an investor in the adoption agency (which took a lot of learning and patience! Something JJ barely had.) along with still taking part in Poguelandia—which was mostly ran by John B and Sarah now—and having his own landscaping business, JJ found himself finally letting out a much needed long exhale.

Life was meant to be lived and it definitely was.

And for once it felt alright.

More than.

Like the floating of waves at your back, gliding you back to shore.

“Hey!” Sarah’s all grins as she throws her arms around Almabelle in a tight embrace, as the two women lightly sway from side to side.

It was almost as if the two weren’t just hanging out last weekend, or talking on the phone the day before last. Alma and Sarah grew even closer since her little one was the godson of JJ and that automatically meant Alma was the number one auntie.

Cleo, Wheezie, and Kiara all thought otherwise!

“There’s my favorite little guy!” JJ boasts, yanking the five year old from John B’s arms to hold upside down by his ankles before pulling the squealing chocolate haired boy back into his embrace.

Smiling softly at the two, Alma enjoyed seeing JJ with Jeremiah (yes, named after JJ himself) John Routledge. Having “little j” in their lives changed everything for the pogues; let them all be aware that there was more life out there and all of them had no problem going after it.

John B playfully shakes out his arms at Little J’s weight, making Sarah playfully whack his shoulder, before he slips in to give Alma a side hug in greeting, “What’s going on, Alton? I’ve got the pies out in the Twinkie.”

Yes, she was still (barely) running and although The Routledge’s have a more dependable car, the Twinkie was still their go to. Plus little J loved it and as parents, they would do anything to bring their child happiness.

“You say hi to the pretty lady.” JJ whispers into Little J’s ear, who already had his bright eyes (that were handed down to him from Ward) set on the bronze skinned woman.

Alma holds her arms out, Little J comes right to her, pressing a slobbery kiss to her cheeks. “Aw, thank you! Glad to see you too, pea.”

He was the perfect combination of his parents: chocolate ringlets for hair, almond shaped eyes like his mother with her father’s color eyes, high cheeks bones like John B, faint dimples on his cheeks from both parents, and a sweet smile just like Sarah’s.

Sarah laughs as she informs her friend, “If you need napkins, I have plenty!”

“That’s my boy!” JJ claps and points at little J, “But remember, that’s still my lady, huh?” He ruffles his hair, then winks at Alma before stepping out of the home to help John B with the desserts.

Leaving the men to deal with that, the three make their way towards the slightly closed off emerald green kitchen.

“I hope you didn’t overdo it with the pies this time, Sarah.” Alma says to the almost completely blonde woman, who gives an innocent shrug.

Sarah opened up her own cafe, Wet Bean Café, which was unfortunately in constant competition with Ruthie’s shitty restaurant. It’s been five years and that pathetic Ruthie still couldn’t stop her bullying ways. After dealing with massive flooding out in the cut, Sarah decided to make the decision to move it into town, using the inheritance Ward left behind, where she had to pay more for rent on the building, which Rafe was the property manager of. Go figure! The original WBC was a small lavender painted space, with a little drive-thru on the side, with two sets of bistro tables outside, and only room for three tables inside that were set up along the brick walls, with checkered floors. It felt very diner-like inside with its quirks and jukebox. The café was filled with Sarah’s baked goods and became a favorite in Kildare. It was Sarah’s but she had to make the decision to move back into town after the land had severe damage and couldn’t be built on anymore, which JJ helped confirm.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah replies as Alma holds her son on her hip for a moment longer, “As much as these guys eat? There’s never enough! Plus it’s less than what I started with since most were donated all over the communities.”

This didn’t shock Alma.

In almost every way, all of the pogues found ways to give back, especially for those that were still struggling to make it.

“Did you hear from Cleo yet?” Sarah suddenly asks, after stealing a pineapple chunk from the charcuterie board.

Alma shakes her head before putting Little J down on his feet but he still holds onto the end of her wine colored shirt, “Only in texts. JJ was originally going to pick Pope up from Dare County because Cleo wasn’t sure if she was going to get in on time…there were delays with her helicopter situation.”

That’s right.

Cleo decided to heavily get into engineering and undergoing flight training. Sure she’s spent much of her times on boats, like most of the pogues but once Pope actually enlisted into the service to be a marine, it just made sense to want to know the mechanics of how boats and helicopters worked. Cleo’s always been a traveler so this path and with her cut from the blue crown, she had the skills that were already instilled and amplified them once she hit the books.

She had her own helicopter that she flew over on her own back to the OBX from time to time, his name was “squiggly” because he never flew straight once first brought into the air. Alma honestly preferred taking a boat rather than a flight to Nassau but that one time for John B and Sarah C. Routledge’s anniversary trip was unforgettable that’s for sure!

“I’ll check on her after I come back from the bathroom.” Sarah informs, “Are you okay with—

Blowing out a raspberry, Alma peeks down at little J who was already grinning up at her, “We’ll be just fine, shoo.”

Bending down Alma picks up little J to sit on the counter, lightly singing at him who was full of giggles at her source of entertainment, before she plucked up a slice of pear from one of the pear tree’s out front to hand over to her nephew. Her hands rested on the counter, caging him in as he snacked on the fruit, leaving her the chance to look at all the food that covered the spacious island. A large yawn rips through her lips before she can stop it, which makes little J laugh at the woman. “Auntie Mama needs a nap,” the boy teases one of his many aunts.

Alma playfully scowls at the boy, going to tickle him by the neck. Even if Alma wanted a five minute nap, her mind wouldn’t grant her that pleasure. She could have laid in bed forever with JJ but knew there were a few last minute things she needed to get done for this dinner, although Alma’s been preparing for the last week! A host’s job is never truly done. This wasn’t Alma’s first gathering for the holidays but it did bring a sense of joy that both she and JJ could provide this for their friends.

“I knew it would smell delicious in here!” A familiar voice called out, making Alma glance over her shoulder.

A smile graces the woman’s lips, “Is that Kie-Kie?!”

“The one and only.” She flicks her blown out hair over her shoulder as she pulls her friend by the elbow to embrace the sleep deprived woman, followed by her hands thrown over Alma’s shoulders.

Kiara had her eyes set on Little J, just in case while she embraced Alma before the two separated.

She then makes grabby hand motions to the five year old, “That’s right come on over to your favorite auntie!” Kiara smirks as she peppers the kid’s face with kisses while Alma scoffs.

Alma walks over to the stove across the room to turn off the handmade potpourri, “Girl, whatever! You look good! That have anything to do with your time out in the big apple?”

Kiara met Joey Del Marco who was a touron, funny enough about a year after what transpired during the fourth of July. Joey was originally from the east coast but vacationing with her new friends and she captured Kiara’s attention. It was hilarious trying to see Kiara deny her attraction and then feelings towards Joey, who extended her time out here just to see what would happen between the two. Joey fit in just as well with the group of friends: she was loud, proud, rebellious—you readers can only imagine what kind of shit she got into with JJ, both Alma and Kiara made a few trips to bail the two out of jail—before Alma got pissed enough to make JJ stay in there.

There was never anything wrong with fun but after the time the friends all had across the seas? Was too close and JJ had to learn that.

Alma was just overjoyed to see Kiara in a happy relationship. The girl was glowing, traveling back and forth from the south to the east coast since Joey’s dance career has taken off. Of course New York was the place to be for it and the distance between the two seemed to work for them just as it did for Pope and Cleo.

“Maybe,” Kiara dragged out and sent the short haired woman a wink just as the loud chatter from John B and JJ hit her ears in the background, “She wanted to be here but you know how showbiz goes.”

Alma only knew part of what Joey shared and it was exactly what Alma did not want. She could not stand the spotlight being on her yet these few pogues absolutely made a name for themselves, along with her being in love with the most well-known trouble maker on the island, who surprisingly (to those around the island) turned their life around in the span of five years.

Alma fans her hand about, just happy that Joey’s craft was also successful, “Ah, tell her to not to worry about it. There’s always Christmas and New Years to catch up.”

JJ interrupts as he carries some lavender colored boxes into the kitchen, “Christmas will definitely be at JB’s and Sarah’s! And New Years in New York with Kie and Joey?”

John B used his portion to start rebuilding the chateau before Little J was brought into the world in late April. That of course did not come easy and they took Alma and JJ up on their offer to stay with them (mostly in Demp’s quarters of the property, in which Alma scrubbed extremely clean, shout out to another trigger and coping mechanism! that is up until the colder months approached and squirrels decided to come down the fireplace) until they got the chateau the way they wanted. That was a story in itself but definitely brought the couples all closer.

Kiara pushed her lips out in thought, “…I’m down.”

“Y’all don’t know what cold is until you spend time in the city.” Alma tells the four, after inhaling the mixture from the boiling pot in hopes that the spice will give her a burst of energy.

When she was younger and not allowed to stay at home on her own, Alma had the chance to travel more with her mother who brought her to California and New York every so often. Her mother was a U.S. Customs agent who was originally from California and where she got her start in her career. She never meant to get pregnant with Alma but again, life happens and you do what you have to do. She moved Alma to the Outer banks simply because her parents lived out there and felt that would be a better place for her to grow up. Most of her time was spent in an empty home or with her hearing impaired grandparents until their passing when she was fifteen. She learned a lot from her grandparents and always thanked them for how she turned out. Alma never knew her father but she had a god-father who filled in as her father figure although he too, also lived on the west coast. Her step-father tried to be in her life but he was constantly on the go just like her mother and their marriage felt like convenience rather than love.

Alma never wanted a repeat of that kind of life in her future. She needed to be present, true, and never neglectful and of course things can never be perfect but it’s always the effort that matters.

Kiara huffs as she holds out her hands for Little J to keep high-fiving her hands, “Ha! Not with global warming constantly being against us.”

“Oh here she goes.” John B mutters, reaching out to spin little J in the air to say to him before putting him down, “Tell auntie Kie, you’re too young to listen to this crap.”

“It’s far from crap! The earth is burning and y’all need to stop being so ignorant. It’s never too late to learn about the state of the environment.” Kiara argues, fists going into her jean skirt covered hips.

Alma smiles at the brunette with a shake of her head while JJ rolls his eyes, and starts mocking her with his hands. Which makes Kiara pick up and chuck a grape at him that bounces off his forehead.

“Hey!” JJ yells, reaching for the chunk of some overpriced cheese, “Don’t start a war you can’t finish, Kie.”

Kiara furrows her thick brows, “I’ve won plenty. Do you need to see my resume?”

“Ooooo,” John B instigates.

That is coming from your very own Mayor of OBX!

Kiara’s always been political and environmentally friendly for as long as Alma’s known her. She juggled a lot, from creating a sustainable healthy smoothie drink business that was often sold in WBC but she eventually sold that off once she got deeper into politics. However Kiara did not completely sign over her rights without the promise of keeping her deliveries of supplies in Sarah’s cafe.

The doorbell made Alma zone back in on the typical arguments the two were having. She seemed to be the only one who heard it, taking her leave to the front entrance of the home to answer the door.

Rafe Cameron stood on the front step, arms full of alcoholic beverages. “Hey,” he starts.

He still looked the same, no longer sporting a buzzed hair cut, hair grown out in some sort of a mullet with spiked ends followed by a bit of facial hair growing in. He looked older yet his eyes still held unresolved issues and secrets.

There’s confusion in Alma’s brown eyes since she knew that she didn’t invite him to Friendsgiving and she also knew JJ didn’t invite Rafe either. Their beef ran deep and had its ups and downs, considering that the two knew just how to get up underneath one another’s skin. Yet the events that occurred in Essaouira and Lisbon did shift something in their relationship.

“Aren’t you going to let me in or let the dragonflies fly in?” Rafe’s sarcasm was possibly an attempt to break the ice or at least be funny but all Alma could do was blink.

There’s footsteps Alma hears and it doesn’t take long for her to figure out who they belong to. Considering…you know she’s lived and been around the guy for a while now!

“The hell are you doing here?!”

Rafe lifts his shoulders, “What’s it look like?”

“Like you’re about to get the door slammed right in front of your stupid lookin’ face.” JJ snaps.

Rafe rolls his eyes, “I got an invite just like everybody else…you got a problem with it—

“Yeah I do. It’s our house!”

“Which I can easily buy from you, Maybank.” Rafe smirked and Alma pinched the irritation forming in between her brows.

Those two still had their moments.

The dark haired twenty-something year old immediately grabbed onto JJ’s forearm, to stop him from moving around her to get into Rafe’s smug face. “We’re not doing this, alright! Rafe, I don’t know who invited you…but you better be lucky I’m in a good mood—

JJ exasperates with furrowed brows, “No Alma! No freaking way!”

Alma knew Rafe had nobody but Sarah (and Wheezie from time to time, the younger of the Cameron’s high-tailed it out of the OBX as soon as she hit eighteen). Then there was that up and down relationship he had with Barry (Alma’s ex) and she definitely did not need him here either so she would allow it. Of course Rafe didn’t want pity and this wasn’t that, Alma was just in the spirit of…giving thanks. As corny as it sounds and in simplest terms, Rafe was helpful across seas. As much as the pogues all had their personal feelings towards the eldest Cameron, he did pitch in on getting JJ help out in the desert.

A part of Alma felt like she would always be grateful for that.

“Rafe? You actually made it.” John B speaks from behind you all, keeping a hand on Little J’s shoulder who held onto his pants leg, still snacking on a pear slice.

A ghost of a small smile appeared on Rafe’s face as he stared over at his nephew.

JJ turns his glare to the brunette who raises his brows, “Don’t tell me you invited him here?”

Kiara didn’t wipe the scowl off her face either, arms crossed.

“I did.” Sarah announces her arrival finally returning from the bathroom with her phone in hand, “I know I should have asked you two since it is your house but…I wanted everyone I love here. And I hope you guys would be okay with that, to continue moving forward.”

Alma’s eyes met JJ’s, who appeared as if he was ready to chew his bottom lip off in annoyance. However the longer he stared at his lady, he loosened up, some. Flaring his nostrils he says to Sarah first, “I still wish you would have had a conversation with us first but…I get it.”

JJ turns back to Rafe who meets his gaze, “Fine. You can join our Friendsgiving but the second you act like an asshole, I’m throwin’ you out on your ass. Got that, Rafe?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my best behavior, just like you, right?” He winks at the blond before barging his way in.

JJ flings the door shut behind him, tapping his elbow into the palm of his other hand, and starts swatting at the air at Rafe’s back for practice, earning laughs and snickers from John B, Kiara, and Alma.

Who moves to slip an arm across her boyfriend’s waist, “We can play nice, right? Our house, our rules.”

“Damn straight,” JJ answers, eyes connecting with deep brown hues as she pokes her lips out for him to peck.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔

Part two can be found here since limits have changed for text posts now!

[madhatterbri]

Feel Better | M.J.

Summary: Matt helps Y/N feel better.

Hope you feel better soon @mrsmatt

Matt Jackson Masterlist

AEW Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts

"I'm fine, Matt," Y/N insisted.

Matt stared at his girlfriend. Her face flushed from a fever. Eyes watery from being sick. Her nose was red from the tissues she used to wipe her nose.

"Yep, like the picture of perfect health," he quipped.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him. The stubborn man was certainly not going anywhere. He walked inside the bedroom. A green apron partially covered his clothes. His hands were hidden behind his back.

"What are you hiding?" She asked. The question laced with fake annoyance.

Matt shrugged and placed his hands in front of him. The words Get Well Soon Kit labeled on a box that was her favorite color.

"Nothing. I just made a get well soon kit for my favorite girl. Just their favorite snacks and drinks and tissues, but if they feel good, then maybe I should take it back," Matt drifted off.

"I want to see the box," Y/N spoke quickly. Matt couldn't hide his smile. He sat at the edge of the bed and showed her all the treats he bought her. The thoughtful boyfriend even bought her a toy. Her favorite animal stuffed, and now all hers. She loved it. His scent was all over it.

"Matt, I don't want you to get sick,"

"I'm not leaving you like this. The coffee shop is open. What can I make you?"

Y/N smiled warmly and handed him a packet from the kit.

"Excellent choice, madam. Coming right up," he assured her. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

A few minutes later, he came back in with a hot mug of coffee. She sat up slowly to take the cup from him. Matt even made one for himself. He placed his mug on the nightstand and sat next to her.

"Matt, go home. What will your fans think if they don't get to see you because of me?"

"I am not leaving you here. I have the whole day planned, so you are going to have to deal with it," he answered. He poked her nose softly.

Y/N groaned but smiled. They didn't get many chances to be together. He was constantly busy with work. The sick girlfriend placed her coffee mug on the nightstand and cuddled into him. Her head was placed on his chest. The stuffed animal snuggled securely in her arms.

Matt turned on her favorite streaming app. Together, they watched all the shows they had been missing while he was away. A couple of times, he teased her by accusing her of watching shows without him.

When they were caught up, Matt read their favorite book to her. His fingertips traced random shapes into her arm. When she stopped talking, he turned to look at her. His Y/N had fallen asleep. His fingers snaked through her hair. A simple kiss placed on her forehead.

"I love you, Y/N,"

[moonbreezes]

"-sickly Georgie (literally trauma bonding through sickness and period accurate “medicine”) he was ill every other month why not use it '

Sounds intresting and I haven't heard that before. What did you mean by that????

I do not know how to present this in a coherent way so allow me to create a vague list of some of the more notable events that revolved around George’s health. And I will restrict myself to only the time that he was James’s favourite.

I will not comment on George’s early years, because I cannot find any source (I might edit this later when I find anything of substance) that comments on his health. (Nonetheless I vaguely remember reading something about his poor health when he was a child.) However, there are records about him being sick whilst being already a favourite. It is especially interesting as King James often personally visited George or sent him gifts (fruits) so that he could recover quickly. There are not only third party records about George’s health and his sickness form outside visitors, but there are also letters from James directly addressed to Buckingham that mention his health.

The first incident oh his health collapsing is around late 1616, when it was speculated that he fell from grace and was not going to stick as a favourite, because of his absence. This is also around the time when he received the nickname Steenie, after St. Stephen who was dubbed as person with an angelic face. At that time, it became imminent that he was prone to being sick during moments of great tension. It might have been a prolonged sickness as it was noted around spring he was not feeling well, perhaps due to the death of one of his promoters – Sir John Graham. Some also speculated whether his poor health and absence was connected to John’s ‘fits of insanity’ (elder brother).[1]

Another incident happens three years later around June 1619. In April, James fell ill, and many feared he might die due to the severity of it. George, fearing his bad prospects after the possible death of the king was immensely relieved once James started to recover. Nonetheless the constant fear and taking care of the king resulted in him felling ill. After quick recovery he overexerted himself once again and a series of fainting spells took place, this forced him to rest much longer. After that James gave him, a stern talking to as he worried about George.[2]

Then, at the very end of Charles’s and his stay in Spain (around the end of August 1622) he, once again, fell ill which resulted in a delay of their return to England. There were rumours that he contracted syphilis while staying in Spain, which was supposed to explain a collapse in health shortly after he returned.[3]

(late April 1624 – June 2024) Then, there was the carriage incident. After the failed Spanish Match, there was a lot going on between not only between James and George but in general (Spanish weaving in accusations against George while talking with James, then there was the Parliament, James not liking what was going on and the influence George was exercising over Charles and the whole popularity thing. There was a lot). Their relationship turned colder.

He was about to leave for Windsor, for the Garter ceremonies on St George's Day, but could not bear to take Buckingham in his coach with him. The Duke, sensing that something was wrong, pressed James to say what was the matter. Thereupon the King, bursting into tears, declared that he was the unhappiest man alive, to be treated with such ingratitude by those who were dearest to him, and told Buckingham of the charges made against him. The Duke, who could not restrain his own tears, protested his innocence and called for a full investigation to discover who had given the ambassadors this false information. But James drove off to Windsor, taking only the Prince with him, and the disconsolate Buckingham was left to return to Wallingford House where he retired to bed and refused to see anybody.[4]

After that George fell ill once again. Charles in letters to Buckingham assured him, that he would mediate with James so that he would forgive the duke and the affection would return once more. Still weak in body and mind, after some time George was allowed to travel with the king in his coach. Nonetheless, his frail health was compromised once more, and illness returned. This time however, it was not entirely certain that he would survive. (James’s head physician tended to him).

Chamberlain reports on 13 May 1624: "The Duke of Buckingham hath ben sicke above this sevenight of a feaver, the jaundisse, and I know not what els, so that besides other phisicke he hath ben thrise let bloud at least, yet the world thincks he is more sicke in mind then body and that he declines apace" (Letters, 2: 558) [5]

After a difficult night, the King, fearing for his favourite’s life rushed to his side and was by his bedside for some hours. As Buckingham steadily recovered James was said to send him gifts (fruits such as cherries, melons, or grapes) daily, for which George thanked him in letters.[6] Then it is also said that at one time, he knelt at his bedside and begged the God to transfer the illness onto him so that the favourite would recover.

Dear Dad and Gossip, Though you commanded me to write no answer, yet, since I should not a slept well this night except I had done it, I hope you will excuse my disobeying of you at this time. I have been the longer a-doing of it because I might send you the certainer news of my health, which at this time is so good, what with your sweet cordial and my seasonable drawing of blood, that I hope tomorrow to wait of you a perfect man. I hope you will not be put to much pains to read this hand, since you have received so many love letters from her who joins with me in humble thanks for your kindness and care of us both. So, craving your blessing, we end Your Majesty's most humble slaves, Kate. Steenie.[7]

And once again, the affections between James and George returned to their, let’s call it, default state. Nonetheless, despite a quick recovery, during his next appearance Buckingham was supposed to be carried on a chair, as he was unable to walk or even hold a pen; his body was simply too weak.[8]

Following that, there were other minor instances when George’s health gave out.

Dear Dad and Gossip, I have not yet been able to acquaint the Ambassador with what you have found in your book, because I received your letter when I was come from him; but before I shall be able to see you, I shall have done it; for what with the rainy weather, my late coming last night, and this day's long treating with him in the garden, I have such a swelling in my throat, and such a noise in my head, that I can neither swallow nor hear well; wherefore I shall be forced for my health, if your service will permit me, to take a little physic. The physicians tells me this is the seasonablest time […].[9]

Sweet heart, Blessing, blessing, blessing […]. Remember now to take the air discreetly and peece and peece. And, for God's sake and mine, keep thyself very warm, especially thy head and thy shoulders. Put thy park of Bewlie to an end, and love me still and still. And so God bless thee, and my sweet daughter, and god-daughter, to the comfort of thy dear dad. JAMES R[10]

In January 1625, whilst dealing with various (war-related) affairs he has once more fell ill, and even the King urged him to leave London and rest in the countryside. Nonetheless this time around, he had to suffer through what was ailing him and carry on working.  And lastly the death of king James also affected George, as the grief rendered him so weak in his body that he had to be, once again, carried in a chair.[11]

So there it is. I am absolutely sorry about the amount of my yaaping about George and his health, even if is truncated. I have tried to stay coherent and do not stray from the timeline, so I hope that this little ‘compilation’ is alright. Tldr; George had health of a Victorian street urchin battling with consumption and contemporary medicine.

Bibliography

Bergeron, David M. 2002. King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. University Of Iowa Press.

Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham: The Life and Political Career of George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham. Routledge.

[1] Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham: The Life and Political Career of George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham. Routledge, 28.

[2] Lockyer. Buckingham, 55-57.

[3] Lockyer. Buckingham, 162.

[4] Lockyer. Buckingham, 187.

[5]Bergeron, David M. 2002. King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. University Of Iowa Press, 125.

[6] ) Bergeron. King James and…, 208.

[7] Letter form Buckingham to King James (c. 16th June 1624) ) Bergeron. King James and…, 205.

[8] Lockyer. Buckingham, 196-9.

[9] An excerpt from the letter form Buckingham to King James (c. August 1624) Bergeron. King James and…, 207.

[10] An excerpt from King James’s letter to Buckingham (c.1624) Ibid., 176.

Lockyer. Buckingham, 213, 226, 234-5.

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[suffercerebral]

me having gone to bed at 6 am every day for the past week and generally spiraling mentally while rotting in bed waking up this morning: a 4 mile hike in the heat is a really good idea right now, and while we're at it let's start like 3 art projects

[edge-oftheworld]

one thing I love about following celebrities/artists who are honest and proactive about their mental health struggles etc is I can’t count the number of times someone I know is going through something and I’m like ‘I’ve got a song for u’ and how much of my life involves telling myself ‘if [redacted] can do something/get better/etc then so can i’ (and having actual real evidence of it in front of me) and I can’t understate how much I appreciate these things.

but at the same time it involves a whole lot of watching people I care about suffer and you learn to read the signs and infer between the lines in songs and interviews, and yes we can never fully know what they don’t share with us, but when they do share things it’s not a big stretch to be like ‘this seems like it’s what life is like for you and I have taken encouragement from it but you deserve so much better’. and it’s easy to find ways to get angry at a predatory industry and realise things that could be hurtful if you’re already fragile.

and we can advocate for some things and help ourselves and the people around us feel better but it’s hard to meaningfully reach your faves as an individual. and there are things we can’t say on the internet in too much detail, speculation becomes the harmful kind of gossip, and so sometimes it’s a whole lot of internally saying ‘you’re doing incredibly well to have gotten to where you are but I wish for your sake things would get better faster’

[bunnihearted]

🐁☁️🌫️

[arolesbianism]

I've been thinking abt my critter dupes some more and it was all fun and games until I remembered that I made Mi-ma a beeta and hm. Whoops. Uh oh. (<- Considered the implications for more than 2 seconds)

[elainemorisi]

like, the only true whopper in lo these two seasons has been Armand's credit-claiming for the (onstage) lifesaving, right. which was allowed to persist for not even the duration of a full episode. I don't think I'm forgetting anything here, right?

anyway, would be nice if more theorizing noticed that lol