#seriously if you have kids please don’t engage in this mentality of if you were really sick you wouldn’t be able to do xyz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence.

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something.

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place.

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more.

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy.

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain.

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over.

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at.

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why.

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck.

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste.

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness.

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault.

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize.

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals.

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things.

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting.

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person.

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe.

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water.

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands.

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats.

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program.

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating.

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack.

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you.

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked.

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything.

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home.

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days.

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice.

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs.

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts.

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly.

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight.

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat.

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment.

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode.

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.”

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself.

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting.

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble.

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.”

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed.

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to.

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home.

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate.

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year.

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters.

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask.

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping.

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat.

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches.

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors.

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates.

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score.

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended.

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him.

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah.

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head.

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel.

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up.

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom.

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair.

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump.

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip.

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps.

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey.

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you.

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake.

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye.

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep.

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel.

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you.

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before.

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice.

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves.

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates.

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet.

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone.

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd.

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals.

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features.

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda.

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point.

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase.

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him.

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months.

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received.

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper.

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about.

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list.

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship.

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them.

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights.

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop.

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.”

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience.

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door.

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles.

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years.

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut.

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?”

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall.

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?”

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is.

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete.

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly.

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction.

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well.

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much.

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal.

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror.

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger.

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates.

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch.

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city.

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile.

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift.

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible.

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable.

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities.

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off.

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals.

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine.

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep.

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front.

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly.

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay.

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse.

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you.

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself.

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot.

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down.

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help.

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there.

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater.

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain.

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength.

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again.

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink.

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#this right here is my baby #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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justhockeythings-blog1 · 4 years ago

Text

Who said I’m out of your league?

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to end this one so let me know what you all think! Feed back is greatly appreciated! Also I totally had to use this gif, his confidence is unmatched lol

Request: Can you please do a William Nylander imagine where you meet the team for the first time and they tease him about you being out of his league or something. Thanks!

For the entirety of your six month relationship, you had always assumed that Willy was out of your league. He was a professional hockey player, the Swedish-Canadian version of Thor, not to mention that his personality could impress even the strictest mother on the planet. You were, for all intents and purposes, average. You had a normal job, normal friends, you considered your looks to be normal, and you had a normal, by your own standards, upbringing. Your personality was probably the one thing you were confident could hold a flame to Willy’s but even then, he had the ability to be so selfless at times you wondered if you were dating an angel.

Willy on the other hand thought that you were the most amazing thing to ever walk this planet and he took every single opportunity to tell you just that. You did something different with your hair? “Wow babe, you look amazing.” You wore new clothes that you just got? “Damn baby you should model for that company.” There was never a shortage of compliments that came from him about you.

Which was probably why you didn’t feel as nervous as you should about meeting his teammates for the first time. You knew that Willy loved you, there was never a doubt in your mind, so you figured even if today went horribly wrong in every aspect you still had that going for you. You also had heard wonderful things about his teammates, from Willy himself but also the fans. It wasn’t like you hadn’t interacted with them in some capacity, they had heard your voice over the phone or briefly over the headset when Willy joined them for video games. You were pretty sure Willy had talked about you to them, at least in some capacity, so really you should be set up for an easy meeting with all of them.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyways, the closer you got to the bar you were meeting the team at the more you felt your hands beginning to sweat. You rubbed them on your jeans for the fifth time, reaching over to lace your fingers with Willy’s as he drove. You thought you were holding your nerves fairly well, you had assured Willy before you left that this was going to be a walk in the park.

Boy were you beginning to eat your words.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He teased, pulling his eyes away from the road momentarily before he returned them to focus on where he was going. “You’re never nervous.”

That was a lie. In fact Willy had seen you nervous on numerous occasions, including the first time you two had ever met. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it cute. You had a number of nervous ticks that he had picked up on over the last few months. You would bounce your leg while waiting for an event that was causing your nerves to spike or you would bite your lip when deep in thought, as if planning out every option. Your cheeks would heat up, creeping up your neck, when someone called you out on any and you would wave your hand in the air as if physically brushing the nerves away momentarily.

Right now you were expressing all of those ticks, right down to the heat climbing up your neck as you tried to wave your free hand absentmindedly, brushing his words out of the air. It caused Willy to smile, he knew you better than you thought he did. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before he focused back on the road again. You would never admit it to him, you liked to be a neutral front but he had seen your nerves spike randomly in the days leading up to today. You had grilled him about his teammates a few times, wanting to make sure you at least had the basics of their names, girlfriends who may or may not be there. It had made Willy laugh, comparing it to you taking notes as if you were about to write a paper on the leafs player.

“You can hide it all you want, but you’re nervous.” He called you out again and you gave him a sharp look, sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just…” You trailed off, tossing around a number of emotions in your head before you settled on the one. “Worried. These guys are your teammates and your best friends. I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, because you love me and that’s important but it’s going to make things awkward if they don’t like me.”

You turned to look at him, letting your words settle in the car as Willy parked, your stomach dropping to your feet as you realized you were there. Everything felt so much more real now that you were looking at the sign of the bar, peering in the front window you could see Zach and Rasmus, already surrounded by other players.

“Hey..” Willy’s soft voice pulled your eyes away from the window and back to him. “It’s going to be okay. They’re going to love you, I mean it’s not like I haven’t hyped you up. Just be yourself, if you’re uncomfortable after like an hour then we can go, okay?” He assured you, giving your hand another kiss.

“Okay, let’s go.” You smiled a little, grabbing your purse and climbing out, stopping in front of the car to wait for him before you both made your way inside. Your stomach flipping once more as he held the door for you, following you inside and guiding you over to the table.

“About time, we were wondering if you got lost on your way.” Zach teased, causing Willy to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I get lost one time and you never let me live it down.” Willy laughed, pulling out a chair for you to sit down in before taking one at your side. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Zach, Rasmus, Auston…”

You followed his finger as he pointed to each player who was there, as well as their own guests, mentally trying to commit them all to memory. You were pretty good when it came to names and faces, but the nerves weren’t helping, you could almost feel your hands shaking a little.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.” You waved a little, smiling softly as conversation picked up, Willy holding your hand under the table.

It was as though you had known these people your whole life, you fell into conversation easily, answering questions about your job, hobbies, and your family. Willy kept a close eye on you the entire time, making sure that you weren’t getting overwhelmed by the amount of people who were trying to get to know you all at once. He smiled a little as he watched you engage in a conversation with Mitch about puppies and which breed was superior. He hadn’t been worried about you meeting the guys, he knew you would get along well and they would probably end up liking you more than him.

In his mind it was impossible to not like, you were the sweetest person he had ever crossed paths with, with the exception of maybe his mom. You were constantly doing what you could to help others, taking care of him in the smallest ways like putting his laundry away after a road trip, making his favorite dinner after a rough game, or making sure he followed the trainer’s instructions even if he tried to avoid them. Not to mention that you seemed to make friends everywhere the two of you went, you just had the type of energy that drew people to you.

“Hey, I’m going to grab another drink with the girls, did you want anything?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts as you stood up and he smiled a little. “Sure, surprise me.”

He gave your hand one more squeeze as he watched you branch away from him with some of the girls, making your way up to the bar to order your drinks. It was like a proud parent watching their kid go off to school for the first time, it was a sign to Willy that you really were comfortable around his friends now.

“Dude, she is so out of your league.” Mitch snorted, taking a sip of his drink as he watched Willy look after you with that same lost puppy dog expression you had been describing about your own dog only moments ago.

Willy felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to hide his face in the last remnants of his drink, he should have known the second they had him alone they would say something to him.

“I mean seriously, she’s like a walking angel. How did you land her?” Zach asked, joining in on the chirping of their young teammate. Everyone was happy that Willy had found someone who seemed to match his energy, knowing that the blonde deserved the best.

“It’s my undeniable charm boys, maybe you should try it sometime.” He smirked a little, firing back at his teammates as they all erupted into chuckles around him.

“Well if she ever wants a real man, let her know I’m always around.” Rasmus teased, reaching over to mess up Willy’s hair playfully as Willy smacked his hands away.

“She wants a man not a man child.” Willy fired back before he felt a hand on his shoulder, another drink being placed in front of him. “Got your usual!”

He smiled as he saw you sitting back down beside him, shooting a look to the boys to behave, he didn’t mind their chirping but he didn’t know how you would take it seeing as how this was your first time meeting them and while it was going well, he didn’t want it to ruin anything.

The rest of the afternoon continued in a similar manner, the conversation flowed easily, and any time you stepped away from the group Willy was hit with another round of chirping about how you were out of his league. It was all in good fun and by the end of the afternoon you had begun to pick up on some of the chirping that carried over into the normal conversation, firing back at the boys with a smirk.

“I mean, at least Willy knows what he’s doing, when was the last time a girl came back to you after a night?” You shot back at Auston innocently, sipping your drink as Willy and the boys burst into a loud round of laughter, accepting the high fives and the fist bump from Auston.

“On that note, I think we better get going, gotta get my girl home and away from you hooligans.” Willy smiled, throwing his tip money on the table as he helped you up and you waved your goodbyes to the group.

“Bye Y/N! You know where to find us if you ever want an upgrade!” You heard the boys called, laughing as you and Willy made your way back out to the car. The ride home was nice, you were buzzing as you filled Willy in on the conversations he hadn’t been a part of. This continued when you got home too, jabbering away as you made your way upstairs, stripping out of your jeans and sweater, tugging a pair of his sweatpants from the drawer as he sat on the bed, staring at you.

“Damn you are so out of my league.” He muttered to himself, smiling as he watched you glow in relief of his friends approving of you.

“What? Who said I was out of your league?” You frowned a little, setting yourself between his legs and playing with his hair as you looked down at him, his hands resting on your sweatpant clad hips.

“Just the guys chirping at me, don’t worry about it but they do have a point. I am dating a literal angel.” He smiled as he could tell that the heat was rising up your neck to your cheeks again, in an attempt to hide your blush you shook your head. These were the things you usually thought about Willy, not things you were used to him saying about you.

“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror Nylander?” You hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips so he couldn’t argue against you. “Maybe we aren’t out of each other’s leagues but just in a league all our own.”

He smiled against your lips, giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “That’s a pretty elite league to be in, I must’ve gotten called up when I started dating you.”

“You’re running my compromise!” You laughed and pushed his shoulder, hardly enough to budge him. “Now, I had fun today but can we get pizza or something and just chill? My social battery is drained.”

He smiled and stood up, now towering over you gave him the advantage to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs story #william nylander x reader #william nylander story #william nylander writing #nhl writing #nhl #nhl imagine #toronto maple leafs writing

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blackbat05 · 3 years ago

Text

I need a break

Shangqi x Reader (Platonic)

A/N: I feel like I’m loosing steam towards the end of my placement and wow I have never needed a break this badly before. Perhaps a short Shangqi x Reader imagine where they are both University students. Seriously at this rate I’ll just be solely a Shangqi writer HAHAHA. Doing this on my phone because I don’t want to open my work computer. Let’s see where this impromptu idea takes me to. Hope you enjoy it and as always like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: None really, just friends supporting each other! I guess there’s an inaccurate timeline if you look at the MCU but hey this is an imagine plus if you look at some of the wiki pages, Shangqi is actually born in 1998/1999. So appreciate if you’re kind enough to go with the flow to read this comfort fic!

‘Y/N!’ Shangqi rushes to catch up with you after class. You made an effort to conceal your tiredness but he saw it right through. ‘Gosh…you alright?’

You think to yourself. Were you really alright? The answer was pretty obvious. You were ten weeks into your placement and your emotions were a jumbled up mess. Having to deal with work responsibilities was one problem, school assignments were another issue all together. At this point, you felt like you were just getting through each week for the sake of it.

At first, you believed that what you were going through was simply a transition to becoming an adult. You thought that naturally, you would be able to persevere through the stressful periods by yourself. But of course, it has been hard.

You were a social work intern at a neighborhood youth centre, thirty minutes away if you took the train and bus. The work was fulfilling in it’s own ways, but recently there were self-doubts filling your brain, if you were really cut out for the job in the future. If you weren’t, what else could you do?

As you sat with Shangqi in the school’s student-ran cafe, you found yourself pouring out the exact same concerns to him. Credit to him, Shangqi never interrupted your monologue, he just simply listened. That’s what best friends were for. That’s what you did for him to when he ran into issues with his family.

Even then, he couldn’t deny that hearing you doubt yourself broke his heart. He had known you since high school. You mostly kept to yourself and one or two close friends. Despite joining the school’s athletic team where you were one of the main athletes, you preferred to stay in the shadows unlike some of your teammates. That didn’t stop you from going out of your way to help other students in need; like helping the girl who was in an arm cast to copy the social studies notes, even if it meant you had to do it twice. Or maybe just talking to a friend who was stressed out about their results.

Basically, you had studied your ass off to get a secured spot at this university who were only one of the few that offered the degree. He remembers you telling him the moment you got your offer, ‘I’m finally good at something. I don’t have to worry anymore!’

Shangqi wasn’t stupid. The pandemic had done some crazy things. And by crazy, it affected the self-esteem that you had been working so hard on by participating in various projects and events, with you being in charge of a drama production that was promoting on mental health. That was a big deal considering that you were a major introvert.

Online engagement was never easy. In fact he has heard some of your struggles that you’ve shared with him regarding this and it only makes him admire you even more. For someone who preferred to keep to themselves, stepping out of one’s comfort zone, to take on a role that wasn’t just simply about helping people - that took guts.

‘I’m sorry I’m just loading you with all this. I just feel…’ You trailed off, suddenly becoming emotional again. Again, Shangqi does not pry. ‘That I can’t do anything right.’ You emphasize that you had ended the statement for you were unsure that you could keep your cool if you had tried to continue on.

‘If I hear you saying sorry another time,’ he chides, ‘you’re paying for our meal later.’ Your lips curved upwards slightly before returning to its somber position. Shangqi decides that a meal won’t cut it. He needs to deploy ‘Operation Y/N’. Standing up with your buzzer to collect the food, Shangqi whips out his phone. There will be a few changes for today.

Food was definitely a cure in this situation, but it was only a part of the solution. After inhaling your ramen at light speed, Shangqi tells you that today will be a different Friday. ‘And you can’t complain! It’ll be a weekend tmr,’ he tells you. So why not? You figured that even if you went back home early, your head wouldn’t be in the right place to complete the essay for your English module.

‘Hold up! The VR studio that Katy was talking about?’ You look at the tickets inside the taxi that was taking you and Shangqi to the location. ‘How did you even, it was so hard to get these tickets!’ From the time Shangqi met you outside the classroom, he had yet to see you so ecstatic. Until now.

‘Well,’ Shangqi gives his best shrug. ‘I called in a favor from a friend. Said that it was for emergency purposes.’ He raised his fingers to make connotations in the air much to your amusement.

‘Wow… just how much do I not know about you Mr Popular?’ You teased. Shangqi decides to leave the fact on him having to persuade the Wakandan Princess in giving him free tickets.

‘Please! I swear whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it! It’s for Y/N!’

‘Ey well why didn’t you say so? If it’s for that nice friend, of course!’ Shuri leaves the entrance of the compound, an exasperated Shangqi trailing behind.

Yeah, the VR studio that Katy told them about was also funded by King T’Challa himself. With stunning life like visuals thanks to Wakandan technology, the VR studio was located in a middle class neighborhood. T’Challa believed that no matter where kids came from, they should have the right to enjoy and to explore the world. For now, he wasn’t ready to share that he was on the way on becoming a full-fledged Avenger yet - you just had too much on your plate. He’ll just have to settle with this white lie.

‘Is Katy coming?’ You were on the verge of vibrating off your seat. ‘She would love this place!’ Even when you were struggling, Y/N still manages to think about other people. Today, Y/N will put her needs first.

As if to answer your previous question, you can see an equally excited Katy waiting for the two of you at the roundabout. ‘HEL-LO EVERYONE! LET’S GET OUR FRIDAY STARTED IN PROPER SHALL WE?’ Her loud voice had attracted stares, some very displeased looks too but at this point in time, you didn’t give a damn. Katy was right, it was time to enjoy!

You wished that you could slow down time, or even replay it continuously when you needed cheering up because the only thing you felt was pure happiness - euphoria even. Your stomach was in knots for laughing hysterically together with Katy when Shangqi jumped in shock from a surprise scare from a zombie. ‘I’m keeping that for leverage,’ she tells you, quietly slipping her phone into her fanny pack.

The Wakandans had really outdone themselves this time. Your favorite VR was the paradise VR. Slipping the headgear, you say goodbye to the smiles of Katy and Shangqi, whisking away to a beach that oddly reminded you of your dream destination - Hawaii. From where you were standing, you were surrounded by green and majestic islands. Despite their sheer size, you weren’t intimidated. In fact, you were healing.

Your mind was no longer in the room of the VR studio. How could it when the sun kissed your skin, giving you the much needed energy that you were lacking for so long? In the room, the two sees you kick your shoes to the side, going barefoot. It may have seem strange, but with the monitor beside you, your actions were perfectly logical.

As a kid, you used to despise the prickly feeling of sand in between your toes. But now, you grew to love the sensation that each grain of sand had on your skin. It made you feel grounded, that everything was going to be ok. You raise your virtual hand to touch your face - were you crying?

‘She must have been really stressed huh?’ Katy whispers to Shangqi who nods in return. How he hated the fact that you were giving so much to your work but still felt underappreciated. Forget the Avengers with superhuman abilities, you were the true MVP. The VR ends and you remove your headgear. ‘I’m ok,’ you automatically reassure them despite the dry tears left on both cheeks. You step down the platform slowly, trying to regain sense of the real world.

What you didn’t expect was the two embracing you in a hug, squishing you in between them. Maybe that had set off the waterworks. For someone like Katy, she had sage advice.

‘Life can be pretty shitty right? But I’m so proud of you fighting it Y/N. Just remember that it’s ok to be weak. I mean, I’ve seen worse from Shangqi,’ she jabs her finger towards his direction, earning a glare from him. That’s Katy, always trying to add a bit of humor to this grey world. Calming down, you let go of the both of them. ‘Thanks guys, for everything.’

‘Hey,’ Shangqi responds, slinging his arm over your shoulder. ‘We’re friends, so we don’t leave each other behind.’ Phone beeping, he retrieves it to check the message. ‘And look at that, nice timing. Who wants Korean BBQ?’

Trailing behind them, you get an amusing view of Shangqi bickering with Katy on how many Soju bottles she’s allowed to order later. As San Francisco welcomed the night, you were just thankful that you had the two of them to walk through this crazy maze called life.

‘Last one to the shop is paying!’

‘Oh you’re on Mister!’

A/N: I really just think that this was also an imagine for me to cope too. So I can only hope to finish my placement/assignments/exams well! To anyone who does studies and work simultaneously, I fucking respect you (allow me to use expletives for now, these people deserve the respect). If you’re going through a stressful time, I hope this brings the slightest comfort for you and remember… YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Again, thank you for reading!

#shang chi #xu shangqi #shangqi x reader #shangqi imagine #katy shang chi #shang chi x reader #shangqi #simu liu

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sketching-shark · 3 years ago

Note

I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

-----

PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure.

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work.

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst.

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels.

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).

----

Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity.

----

As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

#journey to the west #jttw #guanyin #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid #fandom #fandom critical

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volleychumps · 4 years ago

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Heyy!! 💙 Selena here! Would It be posible yo request a scenario, please? So its a normal day at school and suddenly the reader overhear a conversation of her current boyfriend with one of his friends in which he confesses that he's just dating the reader to win a bet of 1.000 yens? Completely crushed she doesn't know how to react but she was not the only one accidentally listening.Noya who has a huge Crush on reader was also there... ¿ What would he do now? Nsfw included please! Enjoy!

It would be possible!! This turned out really fluffy instead of nsfw content just because I like to have a build-up of things, I hope that’s alright<3 🥺

And my inbox has been flooded with need for more Noya so🥰

On the Line. (Nishinoya Yu x Reader)

----------------------------------------------------------------

“Noya, you’re drooling again.”

The libero wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting a glare at a grinning Ennoshita, who casted a glance at your laughing figure a few seats away as his grin widens. Before Nishinoya Yu could completely deny that assumption, he stills in his seat when your eyes flit over to his brown ones, your lips stretching out in a warm smile as you offer a timid wave.

God, why did you have to smile like that?

Blinking out of a trance, the libero turns away from your direction abruptly as Ennoshita continues to sip his box of strawberry juice, somewhat used to his friend’s odd behavior when it came to you as the second year hums, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Considering the amount of girls you’re known to fawn over-”

“excUSE ME-”

“Y/N’s been kind of a long term thing, no?” Ennoshita questions casually, flipping a page in his manga he had open throughout the lunch period as Noya goes to defend himself- only to open his mouth and shut it again quickly, for he had no defense to that statement.

“Don’t kid yourself, Y/N’s just a close friend.” Noya chuckles somewhat forcibly as Ennoshita’s eyes lift from his page to arch a challenging brow. “Besides-”

Brown eyes soften, voice cracking a tad bit as he watches your boyfriend poke his head into the classroom door as a smile- a smile that wasn’t for him- brightens your features more than when you looked at him did.

“Close friends shouldn’t cross lines when they’re obviously drawn.” Noya finishes, and Ennoshita’s eyes fall back down to his manga, his wrist flicking to throw the empty juice carton at his friend’s head as Noya catches it with a glare.

“Stick with drooling over Kiyoko- you’re scarier when you say serious stuff.”

“I’ll have you know- wait, scarier?”

“Dude, have you met yourself?”

Before a snarky retort can be made about Ennoshita’s lack of empathy, Noya quiets down to realize you were no longer in the classroom, and Ennoshita had successfully distracted the libero from watching you leave with your boyfriend.

“I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you.”

“The former would be great, thanks.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“uGH practice is such a pain.” Noya whines as Tanaka whistles lowly in agreement from next to him, the iconic duo feeling lucky practice was delayed for the day due to Ukai’s tardiness, the coach getting held back by a prior engagement.

“I’ll meet you in the gym later?” Tanaka questions after Noya had released a groan after the realization that his notebook had been left behind- a notebook that held at least a dozen late homework assignments that needed to be in by tomorrow.

“Yeah, man- Tell Daddy Dai I’ll be there in a few.”

“Still can’t believe he lets you call him that.”

“Oh he doesn’t- on second thought he does. Tanaka, if you love me you’ll call him that when you see him.”

“Who the hell loves you?” His best friend sneers as Noya puts up a peace sign accompanied by a wide grin as he walks off, his smile lessening when his back turns again to his lonely trek in the mostly empty hallways of Karasuno.

Yeah, who would?

Before he can stifle it, your face popped up into his mind along with a tug at his heartstrings as Noya continues his slow walk back to his classroom, a glazed look taking over his eyes as he wonders if you made it home safely with that asshat of a boyfriend-

Until he saw it.

Noya pauses mid-step, the glazed look being blinked away as he saw you standing outside a classroom that wasn’t yours, the door open slightly ajar as your hair skewed the image of your face. An excited smile spreads on the libero’s face at the thought of an unexpected conservation with you, his pace picking up until he sees something that made his breath hitch in his throat as he stands two steps away from you.

Your eyes were brimmed with unshed, shining tears that seemed to threaten to spill over at any moment, and before Noya can ask you why on instinct, you had grabbed his arm in a tight grip, putting a weak finger to your lips as you signal him to stay quiet.

With furrowed brows, the libero complies, leaning against the wall next to you as he remains focused on your grip on his arm, an involuntary blush rising to his cheeks at the situation at hand-

but it didn’t last very long.

Noya’s ears perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice- a voice that he dreaded hearing call your name every day during break times.

“...yeah, man- I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He felt your grip seem to loosen on his arm.

“With Y/N? Dude, I don’t know why you would go so far for 1000 yen-”

He watched a painful expression cross your face as your eyes widened in absolute disbelief.

“Right? I thought it would be easy, but she looks at me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to her, what would you do in my situation?”

But the instigating factor?

“Dump her. You agreed because she seemed cute and easy, right?”

When the tears tipped over the eyes he loved, his vision turned into a blurry fit of rage, shoving off the wall before ripping his arm from your grasp as you attempt to keep him next to you. Noya stops for a second when your hand reaches out to grab at the back of his shirt material, your reddened eyes widening when the libero smiles a closed-eye grin at you, mouthing the words you needed to hear most.

It’ll be okay. I’ll be back.

“1000 yen richer, I guess. Anyways, I wonder where that airhead-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a fist collided with his cheek, Nishinoya seething so angrily he hardly spared a glance at the friend that made a dash for the exit at the arrival of the school’s known-troublemaker.

All those days watching you be with him. A hidden part wishing he was him. The convincing of himself that he was happy you were happy-

Noya’s eyes mimicked the ones in which he was on the court, eyes spinning dangerously serious as brown eyes narrowed, a fist grabbing at your boyfriend’s collar from where he now laid with a slightly cracked lip.

When this was how things were all along?

“What the hell are you doing?!”

A humorless chuckle. “What does it look like? A fucking tea party?”

When his fist reels back again, he stops when he feels a hand rest gently on the back of his elbow, Noya just knowing from the touch that it was you as his tense muscles relax almost immediately.

“N-Noya...”

At the sound of your cracked, stuttering voice, the libero releases a heavy sigh, releasing your now ex-boyfriend’s shirt so that at least his head hits the classroom floor as Noya stands protectively in front of you.

“Bastard...you think you’ll get away with something like this?” Your ex seems to chuckle a tad deliriously as Noya ignores him, shuffling through his pockets before dropping a few crumpled bills at his feet, your ex finally taking notice of you with widened eyes.

“I don’t care. I just get suspended again, but you?” Noya sneers, kicking the bills towards what he had always considered not good enough for you. “You fucked with the wrong person, asshole. Here’s 4300 yen (about 40 USD), whatever shitty bet you had going on is off, don’t even look her way anymore. Not like you deserved it in the first place anyway.”

With that, Noya spun on his heel to grab your hand hastily, adrenaline running through his veins before he feels you freeze at the sound of his voice.

“Y-Y/N, baby please-”

“I don’t know if he didn’t make it clear enough,” You glance at him once more, etching the image into your mind before mentally discarding it. “But we’re through. If there was any we to begin with.”

Noya’s brows reach towards his airline before he releases a low whistle at you’re words, surprised when you’re the one to lead him out of the class, stopping only when you reach the exit of the school.

“Y/N-”

“Have anywhere I can maybe, I don’t know, cry?”

Noya’s eyes widen as a million thoughts flit through his head as he takes a chance. Slowly, he turns your figure so you’re facing him fully, gently prying the hands that covered the features you now deemed ugly away before tucking your face into his chest-

the libero determined to make you feel as beautiful as he saw you as, feeling the sobs wreck through your body as your hands tightened at the shirt material on his chest.

Looks like he’ll be missing practice today.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“You didn’t have to go that far.”

You smile a little at Noya’s look of seriously? from his place in the kitchen, causing you to giggle a little from underneath the blanket he had given you as you relaxed a bit more into his couch. The smile dwindles as you wonder how you had gotten here, puffy-eyed and broken-hearted in the house of someone you deemed as a close friend-

but why had your heart beat picked up when his back was to you in that classroom as he faced your ex? Why did that smile he casted to you before rushing in to defend your dignity make you loosen your grip on his shirt as a newfound feeling emerged in your stomach?

Had he always been there? Just in that little pocket in the back of your mind, waiting to be seen, as someone simply stood in front of him?

“I left my homework at school for you. I’m expecting my payment in m&ms.”

You shake your head of those thoughts just as Noya sets down a steaming mug of hot tea in front of you, and your eyes widen before you subconsiously raise a hand to his hair, retort falling silent.

Noya blushes, eyes narrowing at the small giggle that slips your lips as he occupies the couch seat next to you. “What?”

“Your hair’s not being held up by like, three different products of hair gel.” You observe, genuinely interested in his soft locks as the heat in the libero’s cheeks deepen before he scoffs.

“Two actually, imagine being uneducated.”

“Imagine assaulting someone because of a childish bet.”

“It was self-defense.”

“In what way?” You find yourself laughing as Noya turns fully towards you, a lopsided grin on his lips that had your laugh dying down at the pounding in your chest.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.”

Embarrassed, you retract your hand from his hair hastily before picking up the mug and taking a deep sip, flinching at the heat as Noya calms his nerves at the girl he’s been in love with acting so cute next to him.

The mug hits the table gently as you set it down, a far-off look in your eyes as Noya takes his share of the blanket, wondering if you were uncomfortable with the proximity before you relax into his side, your head leaning on his shoulder.

“I have to wonder...if all I was had been a game all along.”

“Apparently the no sad talk rule I put in place before we entered my domain was ignored, and it shows.”

You go to swat him playfully before Noya catches your wrist, brown eyes soft and looking at you as if he were afraid you would break at any moment.

“Y/N, you’re literally the prettiest, nicest girl in the grade- it’s not your fault you decided to make the worst possible choice.”

A pink dusts across your cheeks at the compliments before you pout. “But it kinda is.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh into your mug, not realizing Noya had been watching you with a gaze you were used to catching in the middle of breaks or class. “And who would be a better choice?”

“Are you joking?”

You blink at the deadpan of Noya’s voice before he scoffs as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Ennoshita. Are you dumb?”

“I was thinking more you, but yeah I could totally-”

The couch is soft against your back as the blanket drapes over Noya’s back as you find yourself sandwiched between him and the couch, his hands placed firmly next to your head to support himself as he keeps his weight off of you. Your eyes trace over his features as his brown eyes seem to seriously stare into yours, your faces inches apart.

“You can’t take it back.”

You melt into the feel of his lips upon yours, smiling into it as something in you just feels so right in this moment, pushing him back a little as soon as his hand trails down to your waist.

“Noya, I just got out of the worst day of my life-”

“Then I’ll make every day better than the last.”

“It’s not too soon?” You ask worriedly as Noya digs his face into your neck, and you blush when his lips move against your neck.

“Nothing’s too soon when I’ve been waiting this long, babe.”

Noya smirks when your skin seems to heat under his touch, feeling you squirm when his hands move to rest on your waist gently as he peppers your neck in kisses.

“How long have you been waiting?” You pout, pulling Noya out of your neck as the libero scoffs, his lips moving to trace up your jawline before making his way across your cheek sweetly, stopping only when his lips hover over yours.

“Too long, apparently.”

“C-Can I kiss you?”

Rolling his eyes, Noya cups your face gently as his thumb traces your cheek, speaking against your lips as he feels your lips curl upwards into it.

“I don’t know if I have to make this clear- but you don’t have to ask your boyfriend for permission, babe.”

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General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu karasuno #karasuno #nishinoya #nishinoya x reader #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yu #nishinoya yuu

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years ago

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Ok ok I’ve had this thought for a while now, how about this. When Touya was a lil baby man his “dad” introduced him to his fellow pro hero’s daughter. Maybe the hero is a high ranking pro of another country. They hit it off and become friends. But his “dad’s” shit is too much and she notices his change and asks him and he maybe takes his anger out on her. But she just calmly takes it all, smiling and says after his rant, that he isn’t alone and tells him that her father is the same and that since her quirk (Emma Frost’s powers maybe) is powerful she’s doing the same to her. Then their friendship grows and later somethings happen Touya can’t take his BS so leaves without a trace. Years later she’s a pro hero ranking in top 5 in her country. They meet through pure coincidence. And he sees that she has an engagement ring on, and he’s like wtf and she just gives him a heartbreaking smile and says that maybe if he stayed it could have been him who gave that to her 🥺 you can go on from there Sorry it’s so long😥

I’m not going to force you to write it, just trying to give you ideas to inspire your writing. please don’t think that I’m forcing this on you 🙏🙏🙏 if you want to then ONLY should you write it okay 🥺😭

Can we just take a moment to look at him😭💔❤

Ps: sorry about the quirk part ;-; only after I saw it was a specific one

"UGH!" The once red haired kid hissed in pain as his body double over... sometimes he wished he could just had gained the blessing of not only rememberinh his mother, but inhering her quirk as well... his blue flames accordinh to his father cartied more potential than his... that he was almost perfect...

Yet he wasn't. His body couldn't handle the heat... as well as his mind couldn't tolerate more of the mental and physical abuse Endeavour put him, his siblings and mother too...

His forehead was against the ground as hs gritted his teeth the best he could to not pet out one miserable yey possibly inhuman shout... both of pain and anger.

Although he flinched back up when he fept a touch near his hot shoulder... thinking that was possibly his baby brother Natsuo worried abiyt him once again.

But it wasn't the white haired kid... it was you... standing in front of him with a worried face wjile holding a bucket of possible icy water and some towels.

"What?" He scoffs, doing his best to stand up without trembling.

(L/n) (Y/n) was the daughter of a famous pro hero from America... Her father being a close friend of Endeavour, somehow, introduced his daughter to the old man... the girl was a compassionate soul with a telepathic diamond kinda like quirk. Both of you grew closer as time went by... yet, he couldn't sadly hide it the pain he felt as his father slowly grew to be a abuser...

He couldn't just tell you about it. For what? Ruin the pertect Todoroki family sterotype and for yoi just to rub into his face about your perfect little lovingly family?

He would rather not.. bit todaay he was just fuming. Angry at his father, angry at his quirk... angry at himself

"You're burning up Touya-kun..." you whispered while kneeling down next to his fetal position form "Rough training..?" You whispered softly whiel clenching the towel before slowly rubbing the visible parts of his skin...

He remained silent, a frow present on his features as he clenched his legs closer to his torso.

"... Touya-kun?"he grunted at your call amd tried not to wince at the cold wet towel on his cheek "Is not only training right?"

"Took you long enough smartpants..." he chuckled darkly, brushing you off and putting his legs on a crossstype sitting.

".. wanna talk about it? It usually he-"

"Oh, like talking will just stop my stupid father to beat my mother and treat me and my siblings like shit.." he gritted his teeth at the memory and for spilling out what he didn't wanted to.

He saw how your eyes widened from the corner of his turquoise ones... scoffing at your reaction.

"Touya-kun I.. I know what is-"

"Oh dont come with the "i know how you feel" talk." He growled, glaring at you in anger "The spoiled princess have everything to goods and food in your home. A dad that just doesn't smiles as often as All Might, a mother that always remain by your side no matter what and you come with that bullshit?!" He widened his eyes at the curse he let out and how he shouted at you... a billions of regrets already forming inside his head until he saw a bit of tears on your eyes yet a kind and painfull smile on your lips.

"You think is like that?" You almost sobbed the words until you pulled your sleeves up to show him marks of cigaretes, cuts and purples dots adoring your skin as his eyes widened in horror...

"W..what?" He almost whispered as he grab your arm to inspectes closer.

"The comet hero, example of a father... does this to me every single day he comes back from a fight that didn't ended well or when I mess up with something on my training... while my mom is always drinking and watchs from a safe distance to not be hurr as well..."

Horror was present on his face as anger slowed build inside of him... so this was what heroes do to their children?! Him and you had been suffering in the hands of the most powerful and respected heroes out there...

If he had control over his power he swore he would chase your father down for everything he done to you.

"So yeah... I know how you must feel... Touya. You're not alone..." your arms slipped from his grasp only for you to fill the empty of his hands with yours, interviewing your fingers with his.

He couldn't even answer as he pulled you gently to hug as he craddled your head between his neck and hand, carresing your back with his free one.

If only he could be a little more strong... only to protect you and himself...

Yet that didn't stopped him to vow to himself to get some revenge on both of you.

Finally he was meeting wuth his baby brother Shouto. And now he was ready to burn all of the heroes and students present there just to prove his point that none of them were worth of even living.

Yes he was crazy, a sociopath that killed more than one hundred people. But whose fault was that again? Oh right! Endeavour... Todoroki Enji. His father that could dance with his son on the deepest parts of hell.

Just when he was about to send a attach towards Shoto the chaos around him was mute for a short few seconds.

'You would really hurt your younger brother like that..? Touya?'

"What the fuck..?" He muttered before receiving a kick on his hut wnough for him to gag on his own blood.

Quickly recovering he sended another attack only to see a woman made of diamond standing next to him, panting as her grip on the blades remained.

"Touya..." you blinked and a soon more human like appearance got back as the woman stared at him with horror "What happened to you?"

"Do I even know you sweetcheeks?" He asked nonchamtly before sending another wave of flames towards your direction only for your arm to get back on a diamond like shape as you blocked the attack.

"Seriously?!" You gasped while holding your blades.

He was about to attack before a flash of memories of his childhood appeared as he groaned at the pain it actually felt, but still reamained stood until his eyes widened at a image of his long lost childhood friend...

When his vision got back he stared at you... recogjizing finally after so many years.

"So you devided to become one of those fake heroes too (Y/n)..?" He snarled, forearm in front of him as he lit it into flames, hiding the actual hurt he felt.

"Our parents may have acted this way, but that doesn't mean all heroes belong to a world full of lies!"

"Bullshit." He attacked once again as you dodged, coming closer to him as he groaned and managed to lock you in the ground... seing a golden ring on your left hand as you tried to controp your breathing at seing his hand on your throat.

"What the fuck...?" That was a weeding ring... a fucking weeding ring. The woman that was supposw to be his was married to someone else...

You realized his grip lessen up a bit only because of the sign of the ring on your finger... realization come into your senses as you felt tears start to form in yout eyes as you manage to smile a bit... unknown to Dabi that you were contacting your side kick and husband to come for your rescue.

"... you know..." you brushed your fingers on his scarred face much like you did years ago, making him freeze qith turquoise eyes wide open "... it could have been you.. but.. you .. I thought you were.."

"Dead..?" He mumbled, still on top of you as his eyes narrowed at the golden ring ".. I wish.."

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi #touya todoroki x reader #todoroki touya #bnha villains x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha villains #bnha writings #zuffer writings

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ffwriterbts · 4 years ago

Text

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 6

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! The sections should start getting longer as I keep updating :)

Also! Let me know if you want to be on a tag list for this story!

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: PARENTAL ABUSE; BEATINGS; mentions of gang activity; general angst; mental health issues; soulmate themes if you squint: seriously if you aren’t into angst don’t read this bc :)))) it’s angsty

Posted: 17 Jan 2021

Tag List: @happynightmareprincess

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But as always, things don’t last forever. Good things rarely last for long enough to really savor them, especially around all of them.

It was during one of the lovely movie nights that YN’s phone started ringing. At first, YN tried to ignore it, not wanting to be rude during the movie, but when it just wouldn’t stop ringing, she made way too many embarrassed apologies as she went to the other room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“YN! My darling daughter! I’ve been calling and calling, don’t you ever pick up for your mother anymore?” YN blood ran cold as she heard the voice she hadn’t heard since she had fully moved into her uncles home.

“I- I’ve just been unloading groceries mom, I couldn’t get to the phone.” The lie falls far too easily from her lips, just like so many others had before.

“Well at least you’re eating, dear.” The sickly sweet tone made YN want to puke, even as she listened more to the woman she had the displeasure of calling her mother on the other end of the line.

“You need to come back to the house, your dear great aunt has passed and you need to come for the funeral.”

YN takes a deep breath before she responds, not wanting to sound too eager.

“Oh, Mother! Of course, I’ll come in! I can stay at the hotel do-” YN starts,

“Nonsense! I’ll be damned if my daughter stays outside of the home when she’s in my city! Your father will be absolutely tickled that you’re here again.” YN’s mother spoke with such assuredness that YN almost agreed without a second thought, not wanting to anger the woman.

“Of course Mom, I’ll stay at home.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, all the fight that is normally in her tone gone from it in an instant, even slipping into the same vernacular she had when she was younger.

“There you go dear, isn’t that much nicer? It’ll be a joy to have all you kids under one roof again, even if it is because of something so nasty.” YN could feel a headache coming on as she listened to her mother drone on about what the dress code was, and how she was so heartbroken, and on and on.

“Are you going to be bringing anyone with you? Huh? It’s been such a worry that you’re all alone up in those woods.” YN is snapped back to attention at the words, and she quickly says that yes, she will be bringing someone with her to the funeral.

Secretly, she has no idea if any of the boys will even want to go with her, but the prospect of going back to that house without one of them to protect her made her feel even worse than the clearly fake worry laced in her mother’s voice.

“Wonderful dear, I’ll be sure to make up your room so it’s nice for the two of you. I’m very progressive, you know.” YN can feel the hot tears making tracks on her face even as she says a quick yes to her mother, listening to the woman drone on as she tries to find a way out of talking to her mother for any longer than she has to.

“Listen Mom, I’ve got to get these groceries put away, when should I be at the house?” YN’s voice is shaking, timid. She’s forgotten completely about the boys in the other room, consumed with the fear of what was to come.

“The funeral is on Saturday, so you should come down Thursday afternoon, to make sure you’ve got time to talk to everyone before you head back out to nowhere. I expect you before noon.” YN’s mother hangs up the phone after she speaks, and YN lets the phone clatter to the floor.

YN is quick to follow, her legs giving out from underneath of her. She is expecting the jolt of hitting the floor, but instead is drawn quickly into the arms of one of the boys. She clenches her jaw, feeling like she’s just overreacting. It's not really that bad, right?

“YN, hey, it’s okay.” YN realizes when he speaks that it was Namjoon who had stopped her from falling to the ground. She could feel the words riverbreate in his chest as he told the others to go back into the living room and fully picked her up, taking her into the other room as well.

“We’re here for you YN, it’s okay. You can’t get hurt here, remember?” Jimin is off to one side, rubbing her back as YN curls up on Namjoon’s lap, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

She’s embarrassed. She feels like she’s overreacting, like the memories of what it was like living in that house aren’t really real and she’s just made the whole thing up. YN really wanted to believe the simple lies she told people of what her home life was like, but she couldn’t hide anymore. Not from them.

“I- I’m sorry.” YN’s voice is soft, all of the parts of her personality that made her who she was were completely gone as she balled her hands into fists. Absently, she noted how it hurt when her nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t make any moves to unclench her fists. She needed the jolt of pain just as much as she needed oxygen.

Hoseok ended up on the other side of her, and he moved to grab her hands, putting his fingers between her nails and her palms, making her unclench the firsts.

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry Mini, you can’t control the way you react to things like that.” YN barely registers what Taehyung says, smiling absently at the familiar nickname he had given her.

“Tell us what’s wrong, sweetie, let us help you.” It’s Hoseok who speaks this time, wiggling his fingers in her hands, trying to make her smile at least a little bit.

“Someone died.” YN’s voice is devoid of any sort of emotion now, and the boys share glances out of worry.

“I have to go back to that house. To those people. They hate me, because I’m not really theirs. Can-” YN cuts herself off, tears welling up in her eyes despite the fact her voice had a sort of trained evenness to it.

“Can one of you come with me? I- I told my mother that I’d bring my boyfriend but that isn’t exactly what we are and I can’t make the choice myself and I don’t want to go alone and I- I- I’m just- I just” YN chokes on her words, speaking too fast as fear swells up in her chest again.

She shouldn’t have told her mother someone would come with her, it was stupid of her to assume one of them would be willing to go into that situation. She could handle it by herself, after all. How many years did she deal with everything that came from that house completely on her own?

Without more than a couple seconds to pause, there are seven voices saying “I’ll do it.”

YN can’t help but smile to herself, internally cringing at the fact her mother is going to expect a certain level of intimacy. The thought of making any one of them uncomfortable... YN can't even bear to finish the thought.

“Um be-before you say yes, Mother is going to expect us to be, well, t-touchy. And we’ll have to share a bed and I’m sure she will make us kiss to prove that it isn’t fake and- and-” YN starts speaking too fast again, and the seven men look among each other again.

“I’ll still do it.” Again, all seven of them respond without any hesitation and this time, YN lets out half a giggle. With a few final sniffles, YN moves off of Namjoon’s lap and into one of the big, comfy chairs.

“I can’t take all of you!” YN gives a soft smile that is bordering on sad as she looks between the boys that have stolen every piece of her heart. She really didn’t know what she would ever do without them.

“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” Jin is the one to speak up, looking steadily between the other boys.

“Clearly, we need to compete to see who’s most worthy of being with YN during this time, hm?” Yoongi this time, also eyeing everyone up.

“Oh, you all can withdraw now, I’m sure I’ll win.” Jungkook speaks up, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Shouldn’t you be the one to withdraw, as the youngest?” Jin is being sassy to the younger boy.

“Why are you so confident, huh? Who says I won’t win?” Jimin speaks up this time, raising an eyebrow.

YN just giggled as she watched them go back and forth, feeling much more at ease, and like the whole thing was just some weird fever dream.

With a sudden shout of “rock, paper, scissors!” from Namjoon, the boys were off, engaging in the battle of the century to see who would accompany YN to the funeral.

After three intense rounds, Jungkook let out a yell, having been deemed the victor. Taehyung pouts, but the game stands, and Jungkook is officially the one that is going with YN.

Once the group calms down and everything settles back into a more normal state, the boys start asking questions.

“Um, YN, I hate to ask things that might be painful, but I thought you were close to your mom?” Namjoon speaks up again, looking at YN with a curious glint in his eye.

“Oh, yeah, well, um, basically, er-” YN is tripping over her words, her ears feeling hot as she tries to figure out how to explain what in the hell her home life was like.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to Mini.” It’s Taehyung again, shooting a look at Namjoon.

“No, no, it’s okay I just- I don’t know how to tell you that it’s, well, weird.” YN turns to look at her hands, playing with the blanket she was wrapped up in. “My parents and I didn’t have a great relationship for most of my life, because I was supposed to be their child when they couldn’t have their own. But then they did. My younger brother and sisters are the light of their lives, and I’m just…” YN trails off, trying to find the words to describe what it was like in that house.

“Well, I was there to make fun of. The bad example. The one to take the anger out on.” YN shrugged in a way that made it seem like the words she was speaking were nonchalant, normal conversation, though they were anything but.

“Dad used to hit me when I didn’t do what he wanted. And then make it up to me by buying me whatever I wanted. Nobody cared about the yelling, the screaming, the beatings. All they could see were the things . And Mother was on board with it all, until Dad started to find his pleasures in other women. Then she was suddenly on my side, picking fights with Dad that I always had to take the brunt of.” YN shivers, eyes wide as she grips the blanket tightly. She wills herself not to cry in the silence of the room.

“Mother tried to make things better between us once my uncle died. At first, I believed it too- I needed to, I think.” YN gives a little frown, licking her lips quickly as she unclenches her hands. The boys share looks with each other, the discomfort palpable.

“I believed that she really cared, you know. That she had really changed and things were different. And then I met all of you. I saw the way you cared for each other, the way you speak to each other. Even when you’re angry or upset or mad, you’re kind to each other. It was strange at first, seeing you all be so nice even when you’re clearly big enough and strong enough and skilled enough to hurt each other, if you really wanted to.”

YN’s words this time are punctuated by soft gasps, though she isn’t sure who exactly was reacting.

“Seeing all of you with each other, seeing how you interact with each other. Then seeing and feeling that you treat me the same way? I realized as soon as we became friends that my mother’s concerns weren’t real. You all have shown me more love and kindness in the past few months that I have ever felt in my whole life, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.” YN’s voice was soft again, though not because she was feeling anything overly negative. In fact, she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of love that she felt for the boys that had helped her realize how gentle people could be.

After a few solid beats of silence, Jimin goes and walks over and pulls YN out of her chair and into a hug.

“I love you too.” He says as he squeezes her, being careful not to be too rough. Before YN can really process anything, she’s in the middle of a group hug, with confessions of love being thrown her way from all sides.

YN can’t help but laugh and tell them that she loves them just as much as they love her, feeling more happiness in that moment than she thought possible.

~~~~~~

Thursday had come much sooner than YN had wanted it to. Sure, it had only been a couple days, but YN was still nervously twisting her hands in her lap during the entire car ride. She was thankful that Jungkook had offered to drive, seeing as her nerves were a wreck.

“Do you want to talk more about what is and isn’t okay?” Jungkook’s sweet voice brings YN out of her reprieve.

“Yeah, um, what sort of things are you okay with?” YN can feel the heat in her ears as she asks the question, silently hoping he will just tell her so she doesn’t have to think about it.

“I’m okay doing whatever needs to be done to keep you safe.” Jungkook’s voice takes on a bit of an edge as he speaks, and YN swallows hard.

“Um okay, well, you already know we will have to share a bed, which we did yesterday so it wouldn’t be so weird. And, well, um, you’ll have to hold my hand and stuff like that.” YN glanced out of the corner of her eye at Jungkook to see if he was reacting badly, but she found him sitting there with an adorable smile on his face, eyes focused on the traffic around them.

“And if she thinks we aren’t real and asks us to kiss?” He asks, turning to look both ways before he crosses over a road and seeming not to pay too much attention to YN or her reactions.

“Um well I-” YN starts, pausing to take a deep breath and steady herself. “I’m okay with it if you are.” Her words are shaky, unsure.

“We don’t have to, YN. It’s okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly as he makes a turn, sensing YN’s discomfort but misreading it as a sign she doesn’t want that kind of intimacy.

“No- I-” YN sighs deeply, twisting the material of the sweater she was wearing between her fingers nervously. Jungkook takes notice of her nervous habit, and he grabs one of her hands in his own as he continues to drive. YN swallows again, feeling her ears burn hotter as she turns to face him a little more. To deny that it was an attractive move would have been akin to some sort of basal, universal mistruth.

“I’m not uncomfortable with it you know, but I don’t want to get used to something that won’t continue.” Her words are soft, the usual bite of her tone is gone, but they are the most sure sounding words he had heard her speak since the whole ordeal had begun.

“YN, baby, if you want physical affection in that way from any of us, all you had to do was let us know.” Jungkook lets out a soft little laugh, giving YN’s hand a small squeeze. Her heart flips at the pet name, so familiar as it falls from his lips.

“But it’s not my place to ask for something I don’t deserve.” The words are out of YN’s mouth before she can tell herself not to say them, that the appropriate response would be to tell the boy that yes, she would love to get more-than-platonic physical affection from them (though it could be easily argued their affection was never platonic in the first place).

“I- I mean that I would absolutely love that sort of affection if you’re willing to give it, um-” YN can feel her face growing hot as she withdraws her hand from Jungkook’s, lacing her fingers together and setting her hands on her lap.

“You deserve everything YN. And you most definitely deserve that kind of affection, we just didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. Any one of us would give you the world if you asked.” Jungkook’s words are simple, and YN can’t help the tears that well up in her eyes. She can feel plainly the love behind his words, and the entire situation is completely overwhelming for her.

She reaches over and grabs his hand again, smiling softly to herself as the car falls into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the ride. YN is grateful, in those moments, that Jungkook isn’t half as loud or crazy as he seems when he’s around Tae or Jimin.

Once they finally pull into the driveway of YN’s family home, YN lets out a shaky breath.

“Promise me you won’t let them hurt me Kookie, please.” It’s a half whisper and it comes out like a whimpering plea. Jungkook can feel the fear that has settled into YN’s bones, and it makes him want to rip the heads off of every single person who’s ever hurt her.

“YN-ah, look at me.” He pauses until she turns to face him, at which point he carefully traces her jawbone. “You’re safe with me. The boys aren’t far away, and nothing will ever hurt you again. You’re ours now, and we don’t let anything happen to our people.”

He looks her dead in the eyes as he speaks, seeming to search for something. YN is looking at him with those big, innocent eyes she always does. Her trust in him, in them, is greater than any fear she had, and he can sense that. And suddenly, their lips connect, soft and sweet. It seems to take all the breath from YN’s lungs and give them more oxygen than ever before all at once, and it’s cut off all too soon for her liking.

Jungkook softly rests his forehead against hers, breathing in sync with her. Absently, he thinks of how both Taehyung and Yoongi will be pouty when they find out he got to be the first one to kiss her, and that just makes him want to do it again and again.

So he does, and YN couldn’t have been happier about it. She wanted to slip into a world where it was just the two of them, nothing else going on, nobody else to worry about.

What she got instead was a very disgruntled looking mother knocking at the window of Jungkook’s car, calling for her to come out. Taking a steadying breath, YN plasters a smile on her face and hops out of the vehicle, to face her mother.

“YN, my dear daughter! It’s so nice to have you back in the home! And who is this handsome devil? Hm? You must really be something special to go for someone like my daughter with your looks.” YN’s mother moves from speaking warmly to YN, to snidely about her to Jungkook.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. YLN.” Jungkook gives a bow, and YN almost scoffs. She doesn’t like the way he’s being so respectful, though she never would have expected anything else. “And I assure you, it’s your daughter who is settling for me.”

YN gives a smirk at her mother’s slight frown at that comment. Of course he would have noticed the crude remark.

They make their way into YN’s family home, taking their bags up to YN’s bedroom before returning to the living area. YN is pleased to find that her brother had also brought someone, and that there were all sorts of family members milling about the house.

Jungkook stuck close to YN for the entire afternoon and evening, rolling up his sleeves to show off his tattoos at every chance he got. He also tended to stand between YN and either of her parents whenever the opportunity was given to him, which YN appreciated more than anything.

Jungkook also found that YN had purposefully let down the last bit of the barrier that was still in her mind so he had complete access to her thoughts and feelings. This meant that, as soon as YN felt threatened or like something wasn’t quite right, he was there to save the day. He had to admit that YN opening herself up to him like that made the Alpha part of him feel absolutely wonderful.

YN, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to curl up into Jungkook’s arms and have him take her away from there. She was dreading what would happen once everyone else left, seeing as her brother was staying with his girlfriend and neither of her sisters would arrive from college until the next afternoon.

As the people cleared out of the house, YN anxiety levels rose exponentially. The snide remarks were much less hidden as the people left, none of which are missed by either YN or Jungkook. Despite YN trying to field the situation and talk her parents into being a little nicer, they do nothing to mask their ill intent.

YN feels sick to her stomach at the thought of how she once believed that this was the pinnacle of what love felt like, seeking out Jungkook’s soft touches to ease her discomfort. Jungkook, on the other hand, felt more and more like pulverizing both of YN’s parents with each passing second. The anger radiated off of him like heat waves, and honestly, it gave YN more courage to stay calm and not pay attention to what her parents were trying to do. She knew, at the first sight of real danger, she would have Jungkook there in an instant to protect her, and three of the others outside within five minutes.

And so, things went as smoothly as was to be expected the entirety of those first few hours. YN and Jungkook even went up to go to bed without any real issues, which YN was more than grateful for.

The two decompressed in YN’s room for a long while, with Jungkook laying his head on YN’s chest so he could listen to her heartbeat as they both processed the events of the day. YN ran her fingers through Jungkook’s beautiful mane as she tried to figure out what her next moves were. She felt oddly safe, which she completely attributed to Jungkook and the rest of the pack.

It was nearing midnight when YN stirred under Jungkook, carefully moving his half-asleep from to the side so she could sneak downstairs for a glass of water. She hadn’t realized just how thirsty she was until she tried to swallow and her mouth was just completely dry, so down the stairs she went.

Jungkook, being the big baby he is, insisted on her giving him a kiss before she left, asking her if she needed him to come with. She just giggled, telling him not to be silly and to go back to resting.

YN was as quiet as she could be going down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. She had gotten all the way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass for water when the deep voice of her father startled her.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” His voice is gruff and slurred. Turning around to face him, YN can smell the alcohol from across the room.

“Nothing sir, I’m just getting water.” YN’s voice is small and she can’t bear to look at her father as he stalks closer to her.

“I know what you’re doing with that boy upstairs. The only way some thing like you could have landed that boy was by opening your whorish legs for him. Did you even last a whole week before you were on your knees, huh?” His words bring tears to YN’s eyes even as she wills herself not to cry.

Upstairs, Jungkook’s eyes snap open as he realizes what is going on, feeling the distress coming from YN.

“N-No sir.” YN’s voice is so unsure, she even sounded like she was lying to herself.

“Yeah right” He spits at her feet, grunting as his grimy hand reaches out to grip her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “A bitch like you? If you didn’t open your legs, you must be running drugs for him. Is that it? Uh?”

YN struggles to break away, to deny the claims even as her father’s grip gets tighter on her jawbone. He takes another swig from the bottle he had been drinking, grunting and throwing it across the room when he finds it empty.

Harshly, he tosses her head from his grip, another crude grunt falling from his lips as he watches his daughter fall to the ground.

“I never understood why your uncle liked a worthless bitch like you so much. That house was supposed to go to us, and here you are, living in it like you deserve to live there! Like you took care of them! Like you wanted it!” His words get more and more harsh as his face turns blotchy, anger and disgust lacing his words.

As he raises his hand to strike the girl that is cowering before him, making claims about how this is all she will ever be good for, YN squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the pain that is to come. She waits for the familiar sting, her heart seeming to beat out of her chest as one beat passes. Then another.

She hears a sickening crunch, but doesn’t feel... anything. Then there comes another, and another, and the various sounds of flesh hitting flesh. YN still doesn’t feel anything, so she slowly cracks open her eyes.

What she finds when she opens them is one seething Jeon Jungkook absolutely destroying the man who had tormented her her entire life. She can both see and hear bones snap under his sharp blows. She can see the blood pour from his split skin. She can hear the too-loud cries of her father as he tries to harm Jungkook in vain.

Despite the carnage in front of her, YN can’t help but let out a happy sort of smile as she rushes forward, not wanting Jungkook to kill the man. There isn't a doubt in her mind that murder is the only thing on Jungkook's mind.

“Kook, Kookie! Stop!” YN yells, dodging his elbows as she tries to get into his line of sight. “Don’t kill him!”

YN finally manages to grab onto one of Jungkook’s arms and tug him backwards slightly. He looks quickly at YN before turning and spitting on her father, growling out a quick “Don’t you dare touch our YN ever again ” before turning fully to YN and drawing her into his arms.

He was covered in blood, but in this moment, YN really couldn’t have cared any less because it all felt like it was over. She pulled away from him slightly, not caring at all that he had gotten blood on her clothes, and tugged him down to her level for a kiss. She could feel his muscles still flexing even as his arms fully wrap around her frame, though she knows she isn't in any sort of danger.

“Thank you” she breathed, tears slipping down her face even as she felt nothing but a wild sort of happiness.

“Come on baby, let’s get our things. The boys will be here soon, we can go home.” Jungkook presses another kiss onto her lips as he brushes the spot on her jaw where her father had gripped it, wanting to wipe away all traces of the disgusting man off of his precious Omega.

YN holds onto his hand tightly as they make their way upstairs, gathering the few things they had gotten out hastily. It dawned on YN that it looked almost as if they never really planned to stay there at all, with how little they had unpacked, and she was perfectly okay with that.

It wasn’t until they stepped outside of YN’s bedroom that they met their next challenger. YN’s mother was absolutely fuming as she ran up the stairs, screeching in that horrible high pitch of hers that they were going to pay for what they did.

“YN! You filthy bitch! You ugly whore! You scheming cunt!” The screeches come as YN’s heart drops into her stomach. She feels the way Jungkook tenses beside her, ready and willing to hurt the woman if she deserves it.

“What the fuck did you do to my husband? What the fuck is wrong with you! We took you in, we cared for you, we loved you! We fed you and clothed you! And this is how you repay us? Huh?” YN’s mother is too close to them now, though a sharp growl from Jungkook sends the furious woman back a couple steps. She may have been completely irrational, but she wasn't actually stupid.

“No I-” YN starts, at least trying to talk some sense into the woman.

“NO! NO!? You ugly little whore! You and that freak need to get out of this house, right now!” YN swears her mother is going to pop a blood vessel, and honestly, she’s not sure she would really care.

“Mom please-” Again, YN is cut off by her mother’s devilish voice.

“No! We never should have taken you into our home! We never should have signed the papers to make you our responsibility! You and that oaf you call a boyfriend are just a pair of worthless bastards!” At this point, even Jungkook’s warning growls and glares do nothing to make the woman back away, but it isn’t until she reaches out her hand to push YN that he really steps in. He captures the woman’s wrist in his hand with a practiced sort of ease, stepping between YN and her mother before he speaks to the enraged woman.

“Listen here you worthless hag, you are going to step aside and let our darling girl pass. You are going to attend to your dipshit husband before he bleeds to death, and you are never going to speak to YN again. Do you understand me?” Jungkook’s voice holds an edge that YN had never heard before. She can almost hear the way her mother’s wrist muscles strain, threatening to tear as Jungkook’s unrelenting grip tightens.

“I said, do you understand?” His voice drops into a lower register as he motions for YN to grab the bags and move past him. As much as he is sure she wouldn’t mind her mother getting hurt, he doesn’t want to do anything more in front of his sweet girl.

YN brushes past him with the bags, oddly calm for everything she had witnessed. She is sure that her lovely Kookie will take care of everything, and that there will be three other boys waiting for her outside, ready to whisk her away.

When she opens the door, she is immediately swept up by someone, the bags dropping to the ground as she is spun around. It had only been a few hours, but the events of the day had left the entire pack on edge.

“Thank the heavens you’re okay.” It isn’t until he speaks that YN realizes that it’s Yoongi who has hold of her. YN doesn’t say anything, instead clinging onto the boy like he was her world. Yoongi carries her to the car, going to put her in one of the seats until she looks at him with those beautiful eyes of hers and asks him not to go, and suddenly she is lovingly curled up in his lap.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is only just coming out of the house as YN is settled into the car. He spots Hoseok and Jin putting the bags in the back of one of the cars. The two rush up to him and ask if anything else needs done, to which Jungkook shakes his head. He silently hands his keys to Hoseok as he heads over to the passengers side of his own vehicle.

“I had to break the woman’s wrist. I don’t know if the man will live or not. We should leave.” Jungkook hops into the vehicle, collapsing down into the seat in exhaustion.

Hoseok and Jin share a sideways glance before they quickly switch keys. Out of the two people that had been in that house, Jungkook was the more likely to need medical attention, so Jin would drive him back to the mansion. Hobi would follow in the other vehicle, keeping an extra eye on YN and making sure Jin got updates as needed.

They all knew that there would be plenty of questions to be asked and answered in the morning, but for the time being, they were focused on getting YN and Jungkook home and rested up.

~~~~~~

Once they pull into their driveway, Jungkook and Jin go straight into the house, knowing that it would be their job to brief the others about what had happened. Yoongi refuses to let YN down, carrying her into the house as Hoseok opens the doors for the two of them.

“I’ll keep her in my room tonight, to make sure she’s okay. You go make sure Kookie's alright.” Yoongi speaks softly to Hobi when they reach the living room, giving the man a soft smile.

“You know what to do if you need anything.” Hoseok says simply, returning Yoongi’s soft smile as he gently rubs YN’s back. She hadn’t put the remaining barriers back up in her mind, so both boys knew that YN was absolutely exhausted and just trying to figure out what in the world the jumble of her thoughts were.

Honestly, her brain was a mess but it was clear that YN really didn’t want to be alone right now, which the boys respected.

Yoongi didn’t set YN down until he very carefully placed her on his bed, looking at her in the light properly for the first time. She had a very visible bruise on her jaw from where her father had gripped it and blood all over her clothes from Jungkook.

“Go take a shower princess, I’ll get you something to sleep in.” Yoongi’s voice is soft as he gently moves her head to get a better look at the bruise. He couldn’t deny that it made him angry that someone had marked his Omega. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

YN just looks at him with those big eyes of hers, sadness in her gaze even as she felt comfort in his gentleness. With a little more gentle prodding, she makes her way into the bathroom, Yoongi getting her a fresh towel for when she finishes.

She spends quite a while in the shower, the warm water relaxing her as she tries her best to scrub every trace of her family from her skin. It took YN a lot of thinking to decide whether the entire ordeal had been worth it or not, but in the end she decided that it had been. If they wouldn’t have gone, YN didn’t know if she ever would have gotten the guts to admit that she wanted more intimate affection from the boys she loved so much.

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped up in the towel, YN secretly hoped that Yoongi would kiss her too. She would be lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t incredibly attracted to everything about the man, but she couldn’t see herself taking that step on her own.

Securing the towel around her, YN stepped out of the ensuite and into Yoongi’s room. She found a pile of clothes on the end of the bed and Yoongi scrolling through his phone.

“I got you one of my hoodies to sleep in, baby. I know how much you like them.” Yoongi speaks without looking up from his phone, smiling to himself as YN grabs the clothes he had left for her. She changes quickly, a smile breaking onto her face when she realizes that Yoongi had gotten her her favorite pair of sleep shorts.

When she came back out of the bathroom, Yoongi had put his phone up on the nightstand and turned out the overhead light. He had the light on the nightstand on it’s lowest setting, which made her feel oddly safe in the already dark-themed room.

“I got your bunny, so you can stay here. I don’t want you out of my sight just yet.” Yoongi’s voice is deeper than usual as he stands and heads over to where YN had stopped. He could tell that she was unsure of what to do, and he was perfectly alright taking the lead.

Yoongi hands the small girl her stuffed animal, a smile gracing his face as she squeezes the thing to her chest. They had all noticed right away that she really liked to cuddle a stuffed animal when she slept, which they found to be completely adorable. Secretly, they had each made sure they had a small stuffed animal of some sort in their room for her, just in case.

“Thank you Yoongs. I-” She paused as she looked up at him with those same wide, innocent eyes. Damn, was he a sucker for those eyes of hers. “I really don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Her voice is only just above a whisper, love and trust filling her eyes as she looks up at Yoongi.

“Kook is right, you know.” Yoongi says the words absently as he draws her into his embrace. “We would give you anything you ever wanted. You’re our darling girl, our princess, our baby, our Omega. You should have let us know you wanted more intimate affection.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.

YN pulled back slightly, brow furrowed slightly in confusion as she looked up at Yoongi’s face.

“Why?” Her voice was still ever so soft, ever so innocent.

“Oh darling, you know exactly what I mean.” Yoongi moves one of his hands up to trace her jaw, ever so careful of the bruise that had formed. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first day when you found me in the woods.”

YN can feel her ears heat up as her lips part slightly at Yoongi’s confession, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between the two of them but being far too chicken to actually do it.

Luckily, Yoongi really could read her mind, and he took it upon himself to bring their lips together. YN felt the world around her spin and fade away as the breath was stolen from her lungs. The only thing she could think about, the only thing she could feel , was the soft pressure of Yoongi’s lips against her own.

It seems like hours before they disconnect, drawing a soft gasp from YN as Yoongi lovingly strokes the side of her face with his thumb, watching her as those eyes he loves so much flutter open. In that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of them, suspended in time and space. Yoongi feels complete as he smiles down at the girl, the love and trust so clear in her eyes it’s almost painful for him to look at.

And just like that, the silent moment is gone as YN lets out an adorable little yawn, rubbing at one of her eyes absently.

“Come on princess, let’s get you to bed. Things have been rough for you today, hm?” Yoongi moves to the side and gets into his bed, frowning when YN doesn’t really move. With a quick assessment of her thoughts, he realizes that she’s unsure because she doesn’t want to assume anything or overstep her boundaries or- well, she’s completely overthinking the entire situation.

“YN, come ‘ere. I’m not going to make you sleep alone tonight.” Yoongi makes a motion with one hand as he draws the covers back for her with the other, a soft smile gracing his face. YN runs a hand through her hair, taking short, quick steps to get to where Yoongi was.

If she was really being honest with herself, she craved nothing more than the complete, devout protection that the pack gave to her. That Yoongi gave to her. It made her feel like she was really worth something, like she was cared for in the exact same way she cared for them.

Absently, as she curled up next to Yoongi and laid her head on his chest, she thought of how most other people would have thought what Jungkook did was too much, too violent. YN couldn’t have explained to anyone why she felt the way she did, but she honestly trusted him, trusted them , more now.

They had all told her many times that they would protect her, that they would keep her safe, that nothing would ever hurt her again, but she didn’t really believe them. How could she? Sure, she knew that they had done some unsavory things in the past, but that didn’t mean that they would actually do anything for her. Why would they? She was riddled with self doubt, even if she did her best to hide it away.

As YN lay on Yoongi’s chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart in time with his deep breaths and thinking about how she felt about everything that had happened, she slipped closer and closer to sleep. By the second, her eyes were more and more heavy, the calming scent of Yoongi enveloping her completely and calming her to the point it was practically impossible for others to tell if she was asleep or awake.

Yoongi is wide awake, on the other hand, breathing softly and mulling over the day as he plays with YN’s hair. For whatever reason, it calmed him greatly to have the girl there, on his chest. He felt like he was doing what he was meant to by having the Omega so close to him. He sighed to himself, wholly unable to tell if his intense liking for the girl was due to his Alpha nature or if it was because of who she was. He wanted it to be because of her, because of who she was instead of just because of their natures, but he couldn’t be sure . After all, he had felt very similarly when Jimin and Taehyung had first come into the pack, and while he loved them both dearly, part of that affection was because they were younger Betas and he felt he needed to protect them.

Later, Yoongi would blame his thinking of the two boys on them showing up in the room, but honestly, he wasn’t mad about it. Taehyung and Jimin burst into the room like a pack of wild animals, both of them wanting to see YN for themselves.

“Yah! No! Calm down!” Yoongi hissed out as soon as he realized what was going on, anger lacing his words as he accosted the younger men “YN is resting, can’t you see that?”

The two boys stop in their tracks and sheepishly actually look at the scene before them, both of them finding the way that YN had curled up to be adorable. Jimin was the first to apologize, rocking back and forth on his feet as he put his hands behind his back, blush tinting his cheeks. Taehyung sighed as he repeated Jimin’s apology, pouting as he looked at the scene before him.

YN had one hand curled up, gripping onto Yoongi’s shirt right next to her face, the other clutched her stuffed bunny to her side. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were softly fluttering open. They didn’t even have to read each other’s minds to know that it was difficult for all of them not to coo at the adorable girl.

“It’s okay YN, you can sleep. It’s okay.” Yoongi ran his fingers through her hair as he spoke softly, wanting to calm her.

“Taehunie? Minie?” Her voice was laced with sleep as she mumbled out the words, barely lifting her head even as she turned it to the door. Her eyes were glassy as she looked towards where the two other boys stood.

They were in sync with each other as they both moved towards the bed, kneeling down to look YN in the face once they were to the side of the bed.

“YN-ah, baby, are you okay?” Taehyung is the one to speak first this time, one hand reaching out to touch the side of her face softly. “We wanted to see you.”

YN looks at Taehyung with those same beautifully innocent eyes, a smile creeping onto her face at his words. “I’m okay Tae. Safe.” Her words were much more clear, though she didn’t speak in a full sentence. It took them looking into her mind to realize that she meant that she felt safe with them, not some other random thing.

“It’s good you feel safe! We love you, we always want you to feel safe with us.” It’s Jimin who speaks this time, reaching a hand out and laying it on her arm as he spoke.

“Safe. Mine.” Her words are back to being half mumbles as she snuggles back into Yoongi’s chest, feeling safe. Because of their mind link, they understood that she meant that she felt safe with them and that she was glad she was with them.

The two boys at the side of the bed shift their focus to Yoongi at the same time, matching pouts on their faces.

“Hyung, can we stay?”

“Please?”

“I don’t wanna leave her.”

“Yeah Hyung, me neither.”

Yoongi puts up one of his hands to silence them, sighing deeply. He knows he’s gonna regret it, but he looks down at YN and tells them that it’s her decision if she wants them to stay or not.

“YN~” They whine at the same time, doing their best to give her perfect puppy dog eyes. “Can we stay with you, please?” YN giggles at their antics, and nods into Yoongi’s chest.

“Yeah, you can stay.” Her words were muffled because of the position of her head, but the two boys had no problems hearing her.

Jimin is the first one to climb back into the bed, quickly shimmying under the covers and wrapping his arms around YN. Taehyung climbs in directly after him, doing the same thing to Jimin that he had done to YN.

Yoongi just sighs as he looks at the three other people that had gotten into his bed, a smile on his face despite his outward annoyance. He really did love them, and if he was being completely honest with himself, having the three seek him out for comfort made his Alpha feel absolutely wonderful .

YN felt incredibly safe and happy like that, wrapped up between the three. She felt loved, cared for, wanted. Within a minute of the two boys clambering into the bed, she was completely out, sleeping peacefully.

94 notes · View notes

jenonctcity · 5 years ago

Text

My Ending - Part 3

Differences – Na Jaemin

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetracer!Au

Disclaimer: This is going to be a very dark themed story, please do not read if you are triggered easily by the mentioned subjects in the warnings.

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mental Health Issues (Depression and Anxiety), Character Death, Mentions of Drug Use/Overdose, Mentions of Drug Addiction Effecting Baby After Birth.

Word Count: 8k

---

Silence ensued over the table. The gently murmuring of the people around, the latest pop song playing softly over the speaker, and the noises of cutlery hitting plates was the only thing that filled the silence. Jaemin dipped his fry into ketchup, popping it into his mouth and wiping his hand on the napkin crumpled up on the table. Jeno watched him, his eyes slightly narrowed as he sipped at his milkshake through the straw with his left hand, his newborn baby son occupying his entire right arm, peacefully asleep and blissfully unaware of the tension in the air.

“Just say what you want to say Jeno.” Jaemin rolled his eyes, fed up of the silent treatment that Jeno had been giving him ever since he’d met up with him at the diner. Everything had been going perfectly fine. Until Jaemin dropped the bomb on him that he’d proposed to you. His best friend had gone dead silent and hadn’t spoken to him for a whole five minutes, apart from thanking the waitress when their food turned up. Jeno placed his milkshake cup on the table, clearing his throat and pursing his lips.

“I just think you should have told me.” Jeno finally confessed, picking up his fork and stabbing an onion ring with it, shoving it into his mouth and turning his attention to his plate. “You know since I’m your best friend!”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Jaemin laughed, rolling his eyes at Jeno’s pettiness. Jeno raised his eyebrows at Jaemin and gave him a stare.

“It is, you had me thinking you were just going to ask her to move in! I didn’t think you were going to ask her to marry you!” Minjun squirmed a little as Jeno’s voice got louder, the baby blue pacifier in his mouth moving as he started to suck on it in his sleep. “Sorry lil guy.” Jeno gently bounced his arm to soothe the baby, Jaemin’s eyes automatically sticking to the baby he so desperately wanted to hold.

“I hadn’t spoken to you since I’d made the decision! I bought the ring the same day I proposed, and you were in the hospital watching your son pop out!” Jeno’s silence proved to Jaemin that he was right, leading him to smirk at him. Jeno sighed and smiled softly.

“Don’t you think you’re rushing into things?” Jaemin quirked an eyebrow up at Jeno, letting out a sarcastic laugh.

“You literally had a baby with someone you’d been with less than a year.” Jeno pursed his lips in realisation, biting his bottom lip and shoving a fry in his mouth. “Exactly. Now give me that baby!” Jaemin reached his hands out across the table, making grabby hands at Minjun. Minjun had graced the world with his presence exactly a week ago, which is the same amount of time Jaemin had had the honour of calling you his fiancée. Of course you’d said yes! Why wouldn’t you? Jaemin was the man you’d been dreaming about since you had known was a relationship was! And since that moment, neither of you had been able to stop smiling, a giddy feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach whenever either of you thought about each other or your future wedding.

“No. Do her parents know yet?” Jeno picked up his milkshake and took another long sip.

“Why?” Jaemin pouted, his eyebrows falling as he let his arms fall. “And yeah, they know. They actually took it really well, but only because they like me a lot.” He smiled smugly, knowing that Jeno’s girlfriend’s parents weren’t huge fans of the man who knocked up their daughter after such a short amount of time. Jeno rolled his eyes in respond, definitely making his mind up about passing over Minjun now. Jaemin had no chance of holding his baby. “Give me the baby!”

“No, he’s mine, make your own. How about grandma?” Jaemin frowned, rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his chest in defeat.

“She’s ecstatic, she loves (Y/N) and you know she’s been bugging me about getting married since I was about fourteen.” He chuckled as he thought about his grandma’s nagging, fond memories flashing through his head whenever he thinks about her. “Seriously, pass me that baby over before I wrestle him out of your arms. Uncle Nana needs a cuddle.” Jeno rolled his eyes, but very gently passed over his pride and joy to the buzzing man across the table. Jaemin almost squealed in delight, cradling the tiny premature baby in his arms like he was holding the thinnest, most breakable piece of glass in the world. “You must be so proud Jen…” He spoke quietly, too engrossed in staring at Minjun’s delicate features to see that Jeno had quickly picked up his burger that had been untouched, biting into it fast.

“Mhm.” Jeno hummed, already used to the delay of eating his food since becoming a father even though it had only been a week. “He’s precious.” He mumbled in-between chews, swallowing the lukewarm food and smiling at the sight of his best friend holding his son, even though Jaemin had already held him plenty of times considering they live together.

“I can’t wait to play match maker with him and Jihyo.” Jaemin’s words had Jeno choking on his burger, his hand coming over his mouth to stop the food from flying across the table. He hastily swallowed and shook his head.

“Nuh uh, not happening. I’d technically be related to Renjun and that’s not something I enjoy the thought of.” Jaemin laughed at Jeno’s revelation, whispering to Minjun just loud enough so Jeno could hear.

“Ignore daddy, don’t worry, Uncle Jaemin will make it happen.” He leaned in and placed a tender kiss to Minjun’s head, hoping that in a few years’ time the roles would be reversed, and it would be Jeno holding his son whilst Minjun quizzed them about the new arrival. Jaemin was excited for the future, because for him, it was only just beginning.

---

The date had been set. Your wedding was to take place exactly a year after the night you got engaged, because you and Jaemin decided that was super romantic, and completely in character for the both of you. The past three months of engagement hadn’t been anything like you’d imagined it to be. And you were starting to get stressed, because the day was slowly creeping up on your, but you hadn’t booked or arranged anything for the big day. Which was slowly driving you up the wall. It seemed to you that every time you tried to pin Jaemin down to sort things out, he was too busy being loved up and trying to get into your panties, or he simply was too busy working on his car or racing. You could feel it building up inside of you, ready to blow like a ticking time bomb. You just didn’t expect it to explode so soon.

You’d had what you could only describe as a shit day. You had to deal with a lady at work who was somewhat difficult, and she refused to eat her dinner, which caused you stress and you knew she hadn’t eaten her lunch either and as her carer it was your responsibility to make sure she was fed. Ultimately though, if she refused to eat, you couldn’t force her. So you’d left her with everything she needed and got in your car with a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You were at the end of your workday, and as you started your car you remembered that you’d promised Jeno’s and Renjun’s girlfriend that the three of you would prepare dinner for the entire family tonight. Every Friday night you all spent the evening together with the kids, and tonight you’d thought it would be good for you to prepare the food instead of ordering takeaway. You regretted that big time now. All you wanted to do was go home, put on your comfiest clothes, and curl up in Jaemin’s arms whilst you looked at stupidly priced flower arrangements. Things got worse after you ran to the supermarket to pick up ice cream for dessert, only to go back to your car to find a big dent in the rear passenger side that hadn’t been there before. You drove home with a horrible feeling in your stomach that only got worse as you let yourself into yours and Jaemin’s shared bedroom.

You had never seen Jaemin doing drugs before, you didn’t even know that he was still doing drugs, as he’d told you that he hadn’t. So your stomach dropped through the floor and sprang back up to lodge itself in your throat when you walked into the bedroom and witnessed Jaemin and Haechan snorting coke off of your bedside table. Jaemin looked up as soon as he heard the door click open, his mouth popping open when he saw you stood there staring at him with your mouth popped open and eyes focused on him. You didn’t know what to think, but you knew exactly how you felt, and it wasn’t going to bring your mood up at all.

“I’m going to go.” Haechan was the first to break the awkward silence. He rose from the bed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek as he shuffled past you to get out of the room, shutting the door behind him to save everyone in the house from hearing everything you were going to say to each other.

“Baby…” Jaemin also rose to his feet, sniffing quickly and rubbing the residue of cocaine off his nose as he went to approach you.

“Don’t baby me.” You shook your head, your voice hard and stern, letting him know that he was about to be in trouble. He visibly gulped, his mouth falling open as he tried to form words, but he didn’t really know what to say to you. “You…uh fuck you Jaemin.” You muttered, spinning around to open the door when he hurried to stop you from leaving. You’d managed to open the door only by an inch when Jaemin went slamming into it with his whole body, inevitably preventing your exit.

“Please don’t go, I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like me doing it!” Something you’d come to figure out about Jaemin was that he was a huge people pleaser, especially when it came to you. You found that if he had done the slightest thing to cause your mood to sour, then he was immediately trying to fix your mood and make you happy with him again. Usually it worked, but this was the cherry on top to your crappy day, and you didn’t even want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the day.

“It isn’t that you’re doing the drugs Jaemin! I made it quite clear to you that I wasn’t bothered by what you do, as long as you don’t get your stupid ass thrown in jail then I’m fine with it, it’s your life. But you know what I also made fucking clear, I made it clear that I wanted you to tell me about thing like this. Don’t go behind my back and do shit like this Jaemin.” You tried to pull on the door handle but Jaemin wasn’t shifting his weight from the spot on the door.

“You aren’t my mother.” He mumbled, having the audacity to roll his eyes when you were looking at him. “Listen-”

“No, you listen to me.” You frowned up at him, holding back the tears that pooled in your eyes from your anger, sadness, and from how fed up of the day you were. His eyes widened at your strict tone, realisation hitting him that he probably should have given you attitude. “You did this behind my back Jaemin, that’s called betrayal, because I trusted you when you told me you would tell me everything. What if you accidentally overdosed and I didn’t even know you were doing drugs?! What the fuck would I tell the doctors?!” He slowly moved his weight off of the door, his eyes glued onto yours despite the shame inside of him making his eyes want to drift away. He knew if he broke eye contact with you when you were in a mood like this and feeling so passionately about something, then he was be in even bigger trouble. “Also, I’m fucking stressed out and everything is going wrong today.” That’s when the flood barrier broke and you let out a sob, the tears running down your cheeks and pooling on your jawline. Jaemin gulped, reaching out to hold your hand in his but you snatched it away from him, not finished with your rant yet and knowing if you caved in and let him touch you, then you’d just let it all go. “Work was shit and someone dented my car.” You whined, feeling some of the pressure coming off of your chest as you vented. “And then I come home to this shit!”

“Someone dented your car?!” Of course that was Jaemin decided to point out. “Who?”

“I don’t know! They didn’t leave any details and it happened when I was in the supermarket.”

“I’ll buy you a new car beautiful.” He stepped closer to you, but again, you stepped back, just shaking your head at him to tell him no.

“That isn’t going to excuse you doing drugs and lying to me about it. You told me that you didn’t them anymore!” You eyed the door handle again when Jaemin was glancing down at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness.

“I only did it a few times…”

“I don’t care! It still happened!!!” You whimpered, almost stomping your foot on the floor from how frustrated you were getting at the fact he didn’t seem to understand why you were so upset with him.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” He cleared his throat, moving to sit on the bed and putting his head in his hands, anxiety swimming around in his stomach from the thought that he could lose you from this, that’s why he had tried to make excuses and to change the subject by offering to buy you a car.

“It better not.”

“Why are you stressed baby girl? You should have told me that you were feeling stressed.” He had noticed that over the past few days you were far more agitated than you usually were, but he hadn’t brought it up in fears that he was just imagining it and it would cause you to be offended.

“Because we’re getting married in nine months Jaemin and we haven’t booked fuck all of the wedding, and every time I try to get you to help me arrange it, you brush it off or tell me that your busy! I can’t plan a wedding on my own, it’s your wedding just as much as its mine.” You wiped at your eyes with the palms of your hands, sniffing back your emotion and letting out a deep breath to try and steady your breathing. This was your first fight with Jaemin, and it left a putrid feeling inside of you that felt like it was rotting you from the inside out.

“I’ll make more of an effort okay, I’m sorry.” He gulped, his face feeling hot and his heart beating faster in his chest as a side effect of the drug he took.

“You have time to snort cocaine but you haven’t got time to plan your o-”

“I said I’m fucking sorry okay?!” He knew the over confidence was the cocaine talking and he immediately winced, standing up and rushing to you to embrace you as his apology. But you were already holding a hand out to stop him.

“I’m going to stay at my parents house tonight. Don’t contact me until tomorrow.” You stormed out quickly, ignoring everyone as they watched you leave, not really caring what they thought of you in that moment, it’s something you’d think about at a later date.

“Baby no!” Jaemin was hot on your heels, grabbing his own car keys on the way out but that’s when Renjun and Jeno stopped him, both of them pinning him to the wall.

“You’re not driving under the influence.” Jeno pried the keys out of his hand with a lot of difficulty, since Jaemin had seemed to be determined to follow you.

“I have to stop her!” Jaemin fought against them, his body thrashing as he tried to push them off of him.

“Jaemin no!” Haechan stood up quickly, helping Jeno and Renjun in restraining the frantic man.

“If she leaves she won’t come back!” Jaemin shouted, his eyes filling with tears as the he fell to the floor in a heap as a last attempt to move past them. Haechan was quick though, and he tackled him to the floor. “They never come back when they leave!” He started to sob as panic set in, his limbs shaking as his thoughts poisoned his mind.

“She will be back.” Jeno used a soft tone once he realised that his best friend was panicking because he was relating you leaving him, to his mother leaving him. “Shh, calm down.” He pocketed the keys and rubbed a hand against his head.

“Why is Uncle Nana crying?” Jiyeon’s soft voice made Jeno and Renjun’s head snap to the doorframe where she was stood, a worried expression on her face with her teddy bear in her arms.

“Jiyeon you’re supposed to be in the living room with everyone else.” Renjun sighed, standing up fast and rushing to his daughter. Haechan and Jeno let go of Jaemin once they saw he’d calmed down, Jeno giving him a hand to stand up. Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, sniffing back his tears and walking back towards his bedroom. Once he reached it through, his fist clenched, and before he could stop himself, he had already punched a dent in the wood. Renjun was still stood within eyesight with Jiyeon looked over his shoulder at the incident. Her little face crinkled up as she broke out into a cry, clinging onto her daddy tighter from fright.

“Uncle Nana scary!” She cried into her fathers’ shoulder. Renjun tensed up, not quite believing that Jaemin would do that in front of a two-year-old.

“It’s okay honey, let’s go see Jihyo.” He stroked a hand up and down her little back to comfort her as she cried, knowing if he didn’t calm himself by using his daughters then he was going to go ape shit at Jaemin. Jeno groaned, leaning his head against the wall in defeat, unsure of what to do.

You spent the night at your parent’s house, just telling them that you felt rough and needed a break from the hectic apartment for one night. They were more than happy to have their baby back home for a night, even if you went straight to bed and slept straight through to the morning. You felt like something was missing, and you knew it was Jaemin. It was Saturday and you had no other obligations to do other than to go home and make up with your boyfriend. You had breakfast with your parents and siblings, trying to enjoy the fussing of your mother and the dad jokes your dad kept coming out with. But it was hard when all you could think about was Jaemin. You worried about him, mostly because of his depression and you knew that this was probably harder on him, even if he was the cause of the argument, you still felt like you should worry about him more than yourself.

Arriving back at the apartment was bittersweet. You considered it as your home now and you were super comfortable living there with the people Jaemin considered as family, so to be back home made you feel good, even if you had only been away for one night. But it left a bitterness on your tongue because you knew the mood would be sour when you entered. You were wrong, Renjun had taken his girlfriend and kids back over to the opposite apartment that they spent most of their time in, Haechan was still in bed asleep, and Jeno and his girlfriend were cuddled up on the sofa watching the morning news with Minjun asleep in her arms. However, Jaemin was laying on his bed with his eyes shut when you entered, his eyes immediately opening and landing on you. His eyes were clearly bloodshot from his lack of sleep, and he sat up fast.

“Don’t say anything,” You spoke softly, approaching him quickly and taking his face in your hands. “Just listen. I’m sorry I was super harsh on your yesterday, I just wanted to express how I felt and I realise now that it was a bit too much…have you slept?” You stroked your thumbs against his hot cheeks, letting out a sigh when he shook his head.

“No…I’m sorry baby, can we make up now?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his forehead against your stomach and letting out a tired sigh and a yawn.

“Yeah, we can.” You couldn’t stay mad at him for too long, and you felt a lot better today after having vented the night prior, your mood a lot calmer and leading you to make a rational conclusion about it all. The two of you moved so that you were cuddling on the bed, him being the big spoon and snuggling his head into the crook of your neck from behind.

“I promise to make more effort for the wedding.” He whispered, his hot breath washing over your skin and sending a chill down your spine. You let out a very gentle laugh and closed your eyes, feeling a wave of sleepiness attack your eyes, probably from the warmth of Jaemin and from how tired he looked himself.

“It’s so stressful to plan a wedding, I wish we could just elope next week.” You joked, letting out another soft laugh and a yawn. Jaemin laughed with you, but then cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Let’s do it.”

“What? Elope?” You opened your eyes and twisted your head around to glance at him. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes racked over your face, taking in all of your features that he loved each of so much. He still couldn’t believe how someone as perfect as you walked straight into his life and hadn’t walked back out again as soon as you got to know him.

“Yeah, maybe not next week though…how about on our one-year anniversary? It’s in like two months, right?”

“Three months…okay!”

“And we can just buy the outfits a-wait…did you say okay?” He felt a wide smile pulling at the corners of his lips, one you quickly mirrored.

“I did, let’s do it.”

---

Neither of you had told a soul. It was a Sunday, and you both hoped into Jaemin’s car, both of your wedding outfits stowed away into the boot so that no one could see them as you drove to the local chapel. It was your anniversary today too, so you felt like you were on cloud nine with Jaemin, both of you so in love with each other that it almost physically hurt. Of course people would judge you for getting married after only being together for a year. But fuck them! It’s none of their business, and neither of you cared for anyone else’s opinions. You both got changed in separate rooms, and you felt the air almost get knocked out of your chest when you saw Jaemin in his suit. It reminded you of the first time you laid eyes on him when he was wearing the suit from his mother’s funeral, and you remembered just how much your mouth nearly watered at the sight of him. Jaemin felt his eyes sting and a lump forming in his throat at the sight of you in your white wedding gown. It was a simple silk gown that hugged your figure and pooled around your white high heels.

You felt tears pool in your eyes as you said your vowels, Jaemin’s hands completely still compared to your shaky ones as you slid the ring up his finger. You don’t think you could ever forget the bright smile and twinkle in his eye as you watched him recite his own vowels, his bottom lip between his teeth as the minister declared you husband and wife. The ring felt foreign on your finger, but it was a welcome feeling, and you soon forgot about it as Jaemin’s lips pressed to yours, his hands sitting on your hips so tenderly you could hardly feel them. His lips were warm, and ignited the fire in your heart once more, like the kiss was dousing your love in a fuel that would make it explode. When you drew back, you both gazed into each other’s eyes and let out soft giggles.

“Mrs Na.” He whispered, laying another kiss to the corner of your mouth before swiping your hand up in his own. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my husband.” You giggled again, completely giddy about your new titles for each other.

“I guess we should go and tell everyone, who shall we visit first?” He guided you back down the aisle, his heart beating so fast he genuinely thought it was going to pop out of his chest.

“My parents and then your grandma?” He nodded quickly at your suggestion. The both of you decided to keep your suit and gown on, wanting it to up the shock factor to all of your unsuspecting family and friends. All of the legal stuff and fees had been taken care of before, so you were just free to go on about the rest of your day as newlyweds. Even sitting in Jaemin’s car had you feeling different, and you almost bounced on the seat from your excitement.

When you arrived at your parent’s house, you both ducked down as you walked up the garden path, just in case one of your eager eyed siblings spotted you on your way to the door. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door, despite the key that you owned. Your mother was the one who answered the door, and she gave you a furrowed eyebrowed, head pulled back in confusion look.

“It’s not Halloween you crazy kids! What’s this all about?” She moved out of the way to let you both in. You both shuffled in, removing your shoes and giggling at her expression. Jaemin gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

“We have something to tell you, but we should gather everyone together.” You couldn’t help the big grin stuck on your face, and you wondered if it would ever disappear.

“It’s just me and your father home, the kids are all out, we could wait for them to come home?”

“How long will they be?” You titled your head, going through to the living room with your mum and Jaemin. Your dad was sitting on the sofa watching the football, but at the sight of you in a wedding dress and veil his eyes almost burst out of his skull. You sniggered and pulled Jaemin beside you.

“A few hours.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just tell you two.” You looked up at Jaemin, biting your bottom lip as your mum sat beside your dad.

“What’s going on?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide back his sarcastic remarks about your outfits, wanting to make a halloween joke so badly.

“We got married!” You held your hand out to your parents to show off your ring, trying not to feel dejected when neither of them smiled, instead both of their mouths dropping open in shock and their eyebrows turning into frowns.

“Without telling us?! The wedding isn’t supposed to be for months!” Your dad sat up straighter, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t part of his oldest daughter’s wedding.

“Aren’t you happy for us?” Your sudden sad face and pout had your parents immediately back tracking, both of them jumping up to hug you.

“We are princess, we’re just a bit upset that we weren’t there is all.” Your mother kissed your forehead while your dad shook Jaemin’s hand.

“We’re going to have another wedding reception that’s family only, so you’ll be apart of that.” Jaemin smiled, hoping that would give your parents a peace of mind. It seemed to work, but you knew they were still not 100% happy with your decision. You stayed with them for a little while, before hopping back into the car to go to Jaemin’s grandmas.

“Do you think she’ll take the news better than mum and dad?” You asked Jaemin, turning your head to him as he stopped at a red light of an intersection. He smiled, placing a hand on your knee and stroking his thumb against the silky fabric of your dress.

“I think she might be a bit upset too, but she’ll just be happy that I finally got a ring on your finger before you could change your mind.” He chuckled, leaning across the seat and laying a kiss on your parted lips.

“I considered it.” You winked at him to tell him you were joking. He gasped in mock offense, shaking his head and biting the inside of his mouth.

“You can’t escape me now (Y/N), you’re in this for the long ride now.” He winked back at your and chuckled, driving when the light turned green.

“I wouldn’t want to leave you any-” You never got to finish that sentence.

---

“Jaemin?” Jeno’s voice was foggy, like his head was being held underneath a pillow being smothered to death. He opened his eyes fully, immediately wincing at the harsh lights above him. His throat felt like a serrated knife had been lodged inside of it, every time he gulped to try and quench the dryness, it stung and left him almost gasping for water. Despite that, he didn’t feel dehydrated, and he couldn’t feel much more of his body. Everything felt numb to a certain extent, but it felt good when he flexed his toes out, the stiffness loosening his muscles out. “Jaemin it’s me, can you hear me buddy?” It was then he remembered that Jeno had been talking to him, his voice now clearer as Jaemin’s head defogged.

“Yeah.” He whispered, his eyes baring into Jeno’s. “You look like shit.” He managed to whisper out when he noticed Jeno’s appearance. Jeno had bloodshot eyes and big dark circles underneath them, like he hadn’t slept in centuries. His hair was a mess, and his lips looked sore as if he’d been constantly biting them. Jeno gave him a very small smile, letting out a very soft sigh.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” He rose from his seat, exiting the room only to reappear a few moments later. “The doctor is now coming; do you remember what happened?” He asked with a very soft tone, his hands shaking slightly as they ran through his already messed up hair. Jaemin let out a sigh, narrowing his eyes as he tried to rack his brain, until it suddenly hit him.

“(Y/N)!!! Where is she?! W-we got hit by something didn’t we? I-I don’t remember anything except everything going black a-and…Jeno is she okay?!” He felt panic settle in, and he tried to sit up, but was restricted from doing so when he placed his hand on the mattress to push himself up, only to be hit by a pain he’d never felt before. It was excruciating, the pressure he put on it making the pain flare up, since there was only so much pain that the medication he had been given could take away.

“Jaemin stay still!” Jeno pushed Jaemin back into his pillows very gently, more guiding him by his shoulders than pushing.

“Jaemin, hello I’m doctor Park.” A middle-aged man with grey hair entered the room with a calming smile on his face. “Please don’t move too much, you’ll do yourself more harm than good.” He approached the bed and looked into Jaemin’s eyes, he took a deep breath and began to explain to Jaemin. “You’re been unconscious for two days, you haven’t sustained any brain damage, and you’re expected to make a full recovery, however, you have broken multiple ribs, and your left wrist, and we’ve given you stitches on multiple lacerations over your body which will likely scar.”

“I don’t care about me! Tell me is my wife okay?!” Jaemin wanted to scream, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good. He just needed to see you and make sure that you were okay.

“Mr Na, you were involved in a very severe car collision. The car hit your car at such a speed that your car flipped multiple times,” Jaemin’s eyes flicked over to Jeno as the doctor spoke, and he saw a tear roll down his cheek. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked back up at the doctor, waiting for the explanation. He felt his heart in his chest, it was pounding so hard that it felt like it was rising through his throat, a bad feeling burning in his stomach. “The other driver of the car died on impact, and you had to be cut free of your car. Your wife also had to be cut from the car. She was brought back here, and we took her straight into surgery after discovering that she had a bleed on the brain,” Jaemin felt like the pillow was being smothered over his head against when he heard those words. His heart now pounding in his head like a deafening drum that was causing his entire body to start quivering. “We did everything that we could, but she sustained too much brain damage. Mr Na, your wife is what we call brain dead.” Jaemin was took in shock to react, just staring up at the doctor as he listened to the pounding in his head. “We had two senior doctors perform tests to come to this conclusion, and she failed all of the tests. Her heart is still beating, but only because she’s on a ventilator that is keeping her breathing. We can’t take her off of the ventilator until we have permission from her next of kin, which as her husband, would be you.” Jeno put his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he silently sobbed for you both. He had already heard this news, but it still hurt just as much hearing it again, especially as it was being told to Jaemin.

“Is she in pain?” Jaemin just wanted to know if you could feel any pain, surely if your heart was still beating and you were still breathing then you were alive, and there was hope that you could recover? “Will she ever recover?” He was still in shock, and he had no idea where the power to ask questions were coming from.

“She can’t feel anything, I can assure you that she didn’t feel any pain from the moment that this accident happened. And no, she wont ever recover. Brain death is permanent and cannot be reversed.” The doctor had a soothing voice, it was no wonder he was the one who was sent into Jaemin’s room to deliver the news.

“Okay.” Jaemin gulped, nodding his head as the news hadn’t yet sunk in. “Can I see her?”

“If you feel well enough, then yes, you may.” Doctor Park and Jeno both helped Jaemin into a wheelchair, and Jeno couldn’t help but take Jaemin’s good hand into his hand as the doctor pushed the wheelchair through the halls. He stopped in front of a closed door and slowly opened it, pushing Jaemin inside and placing him beside your bed. “I’ll leave you alone. If you have any questions, I’ll be outside.” He exited the room and shut the door gently behind him. Jaemin stared at your cut up face, pushing himself out of the wheelchair to stand up so he could get a better look at you.

“Oh.” It was looking at the big pipe going down into your mouth that made it sink in. He broke down in hard sobs when he realised the only thing keeping your heart beating for him was that tube. “Oh baby.” He reached his hand out stroked your cheek tenderly, wanting nothing more than for you to lean into his touch like you normally would, maybe even press a soft kiss to the palm of his hand. “Wake up…” He whispered, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks as he let out choked sobs that made his throat burn. “Please (Y/N)! You can’t leave me like this!” He had never felt so desperate before in his entire life. But deep down he knew that no matter how much he begged you, your delicate body couldn’t recover from this. There was a big bandage around your hair, and he could hardly recognise you from how bruise and cut up your face was. He felt his chest burn, like an invisible python was wrapping its way around him and constricting his breathing.

“Jaemin!” Jeno rushed forward and caught Jaemin just as he was about to collapse, holding his brother tight as he cried with him. “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry Jaemin.” He gently rocked them back and forth, mourning with Jaemin for his loss. He didn’t give a fuck that he hadn’t been told about the wedding, all he wanted was for you to be alive, so that he could see you by Jaemin’s side as his lifelong partner.

“She can’t be gone!” Jaemin shook his head, gasping for air between the sobs that fell from his lips. “I love her!” He didn’t realise what he was saying, he just wanted you to open your eyes and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Jeno held Jaemin until he calmed down, which took half an hour. He set him back in his wheelchair and wiped his cheeks for him with a tissue as he just stared at your lifeless body. Silence ensued for a long time as Jaemin tried to process everything. But he didn’t think he could ever fully process what had happened. It was ironic really. You’d fallen in love with each other so fast, only to be ripped away from each other just as fast. It had been a year of mostly ups, with hardly any downs, and Jaemin felt like he wasn’t being selfish when he very brokenly said. “A year wasn’t long enough.”

---

Jaemin didn’t want visitors. But he couldn’t find it in his heart to turn your parents away when they showed up at the door to his hospital room the day after he’d woken up. They were the closest thing he had to you now, and he knew that even though you weren’t around anymore, he would still keep them close to him for the rest of his life. The meeting was filled with tears and hugs, and they didn’t fail to mention to Jaemin that you had told them plenty of times how deeply in love with him you were. It was hard for Jaemin to hear, but he also desperately needed to hear it. They told him that your siblings had already said their goodbyes to you. They were still young and didn’t need the anguish of waiting around for Jaemin to give the doctors the go ahead to turn off your ventilators. However they both wanted to wait to be there by Jaemin’s side when it was finally time. Jaemin felt like the world was playing some kind of sick joke on him. He hadn’t even been married to you for a whole day when you were ripped away from him, and now he had to be the person that decided whether your heart stopped beating or not. He felt like it was a double-edged sword. He got to marry you, and you felt so much love on the day you stopped living that Jaemin was so happy that the marriage had happened. But on the other hand, the decision now rested on him instead of on your parents.

When the time finally came for your machines to be turned off, Jaemin made everyone say their goodbyes before him. Jeno had surprised Jaemin by bringing his grandma to the hospital for support. She was absolutely crushed, especially after she had found out that you were on the way to her house when you’d gotten into the accident. But Jaemin had just held her tight like he used to after school when he was upset about being bullied. The room emptied out when it was Jaemin’s turn, and he slowly approached the bedside he’d spent so much time by the past week that he’d been in hospital, unable to tell the doctors that it was okay to let your heart stop, he felt numb. His eyes watered like they had so much over the past week, and he took your warm hand in his own, enjoying your warmth for one last time.

“Hey baby, I don’t really know what to say to you,” He took a deep breath and lowered his forehead to rest against your own, his knuckles turning white from how hard they were clutching your hand. “I guess I should start from the beginning, although its not like you weren’t there for it all, we spent nearly every day together when we were falling in love didn’t we? Those were the best day of my life, and forever will be.” He closed his eyes as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. “I’ve never been loved by someone in the way you loved me, and I miss you so much. You accepted me for who I was, and I hope you know how grateful I am that you came into my life. I promised to protect you from everything, and I couldn’t, and I’m so sorry for promising you something I couldn’t keep. My heart will always belong to you, and I’m so sorry that we couldn’t do all of the things that we had planned to do. I love you so much, and I will until my heart stops beating, I just wish we had more time. You’re my world, and I love you (Y/N).” He took another deep breath and looked at the doctor through the window, giving him a nod that signified he was ready to let you go. He saw everybody looking through the window, their cheeks all wet as they watched Jaemin say goodbye to the love of his life. Jaemin couldn’t help but feel envious as he watched Jeno’s girlfriend and Renjun’s girlfriend snuggled into their chests for comfort, soft sobs falling from them as they mourned the loss of their friend. Haechan looked like a broken man. Jaemin knew that you and Haechan got along really well, and you had even spent some time with him after he went through some struggles with his girlfriend.

They all had to stay outside and watch through the window, as only family could enter the room. Your parents came into the room, but Jaemin’s grandma stayed with Haechan and held his hand. Jaemin gently placed a kiss to the back of your hand, watching as Doctor Park got prepared, gently pulling the medical tape off of your face that was helping to keep the ventilator in your mouth. Your parents cried in each other’s as Doctor Park very slowly and gently removed your breathing tube. Jaemin leaned down, leaning his forehead against your own once more as your chest stopped rising and falling, one long breath leaving your lungs as you stopped breathing. The heart monitor sped up, until it flatlined, quickly being switched off by Doctor Park to avoid anymore emotional distress for anyone. Jaemin sobbed silently, stroking your hair with his fingers on his bad arm and holding your hand tightly with his good one, as whispered to you one last time.

“I love you.”

---

Time was starting to go by as a blur for Jaemin. It had been two weeks, but today was the day you were finally laid to rest. It had been hard for him to hear everyone keep telling him that they were sorry for his loss, and he couldn’t remember much of what happened, his brain so foggy and disorientated that Jaemin didn’t even know what day of the week it was. He hadn’t bothered changing out of his suit, the same one that he’d worn to his mother’s funeral on the day that you’d met because he didn’t have it in him to go out and buy a new one. He couldn’t even imagine telling a shop assistant that he was looking for a suit because he was burying his wife. Besides, you’d always made little comments to him about how handsome he looked in that suit, and even though you were gone, he still wanted to please you. Your pillow still smelt like you, and Jaemin held it tightly in his grip as he laid on his bed, no more tears left inside of his eyes to cry, since they’d all been poured out before and during your funeral. The door opening made him look up, and he gave Jeno a hardly there smile.

“I brought you some toast, you need to eat.” He set the plate down on the bedside table and gently sat on the edge of the bed beside Jaemin. He bit his bottom lip for a moment before sighing and finally speaking his mind. “I’m so worried about you, you’ve tried to kill yourself over things a lot smaller than this, and every time I step into your room I’m scared I’ll see you hanging from the curtain poll, or in a pool of your own vomit from overdosing…Jaemin I need to know that you’re going to be okay.” Jaemin gulped and sat up, gently setting your pillow down in your empty spot and letting out a sigh as he looked at his best friend.

“Jeno, I have never in my life been more determined to live than I am right now.” A big smile broke out on Jaemin’s face, despite the tears he didn’t think he had spilling over his waterline. “Life is so precious, and (Y/N) had hers ripped away from her so fast before she even got to properly live. How could I ever take my own life away now?” Jeno felt a wash of relief rush over him, and he took Jaemin’s hand into his own, squeezing it tightly. “I don’t just live for myself now, I live for her. She’s a part of me now, and as long as my heart is still beating, her love for me is still alive.” He took a deep breath and then smiled as he looked at the picture of the two of you on his bedside table. “Her ending came too fast, but it wasn’t our ending, because our love lives on. And this will definitely will not be my ending.”

---

Okay, so this is the end of the main stories for Differences! How are we feeling? I’m so sorry by the way, I have never cried so much writing as what I did for this piece. I hope you guys enjoyed this series, but don’t worry, it’s not the end end! I still have epilogues to write for each of the boys and short stories for them. Character Asks on @jenonctcity-character-asks are open! Thank you so much for reading, I love you.

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alittlewhump · 3 years ago

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Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 3

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

"Can't you keep up, ghoul boy?"

Morgan leaned heavily against the trunk of a tree, trying to catch his breath. Blaise was over a foot taller than him and much sturdier, clearly accustomed to regular physical activity. Her brisk walking pace was impossible for him to match. Traveling alone, he'd been able to set his own speed. It was considerably slower.

"No. Your legs... are longer," he panted. She grumbled something under her breath and turned away. Of course she wanted to move quickly. People generally wanted to spend as little time as possible around him. "If we slow down," he suggested, "I won't have to keep stopping." She didn't respond. "Or you could just... not go with me."

"Listen," she said sharply, turning to point a finger at his chest, "I earned my place in the Sisterhood, and I take it very seriously. I have to trust in Kashya's decisions, even if I don't agree with them. I'm going to see this through."

"Very well." He wasn't about to waste his breath arguing, not when it was still so elusive. Blaise peered around suspiciously now that she'd turned back the way they came.

"Hey, what happened to that... thing? Your monster."

He'd had to abandon it some time ago in favour of trying to keep up with the rogue. It made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable even though the enemies had been few so far, and she'd picked them off easily from a distance. She was a skilled archer. "Clay golem. It was too slow."

"I thought your kind raised the dead, anyway."

"Skeletons are faster," he said, watching for her reaction, "but most... don't like them."

She looked away, scanning the treeline. "Don't like you either, so does it matter?"

Morgan didn't know how to answer that. He decided to take it as permission. These fields were ripe with choice, layered thick with dead that had never been laid to rest. He selected two nearby specimens and filled their bones with magic, like pouring a little of himself out of a larger cup into a thimble. Blaise jumped back, nocking an arrow, but seemed to realize quickly what was going on. She scrutinized the skeletons, circling them to inspect all sides. They shuffled, restless - between the freshly renewed energy and whatever remained of their original spirits, they wanted to move. They flexed their bony fingers around the hilts of their swords, which were glowing faintly blue. It cost a little extra effort to manifest a weapon, but it was much more convenient than carrying or seeking out extra gear.

"Looks like these guys are battle ready." She gave Morgan a brief taste of the same assessing gaze. "More ready than you, anyway."

"That's the idea." He was not built for fighting. Or speed. Or much of anything physical, when it came down to it. His delicate frame and poor stamina put a damper on that sort of thing. His magical aptitude, such as it was, was his only strength.

"I mean, your sword is on the wrong side."

"What?" Morgan looked down at the scabbard on his hip, not seeing anything amiss. "I'm right-handed."

Blaise sighed, pointing. "Yeah, I figured that's why you've got your shield on the left. Your sword belongs on the left too. It's easier to draw from your opposite hip." She pantomimed drawing a blade from across her body. It did look easier than the way he'd been doing it, with less wasted movement.

"Ah. I see." He set about fixing his gear's arrangement as she watched, unimpressed.

"Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"Sharp end goes in the target," he answered. That approach had been working so far. Most creatures kept their internal organs in more or less the same arrangement, and damaging those was a quick way to win a skirmish. His constructs took care of most of the threats, anyway - he rarely had to engage in combat himself.

"Very funny." Morgan looked at Blaise questioningly. What was funny? "Wait, please tell me you're joking. Oh, for the love of-" Blaise clasped a hand to her forehead, turning away. "Perfect. I'm out here with a greenhorned... kid, and some dead guys. I hope finding this Deckard character is worth it."

"I'm probably older than you, I'm just small." Morgan always had trouble telling how old people were, but it seemed like a fair guess based on her voice and the way she carried herself. "And the skeletons... remember. How to fight. From when they were alive." Watching them was the way he'd learned to handle the sword, over the course of the month or so it had been in his possession.

"They what?"

He held in a sigh. People often didn't like this part either. "Some echo of the spirit remains in the bones after a person dies. It's stronger if they died suddenly, or weren't laid to rest. When I tell them to fight, they... fight. However they used to. Look." He commanded the skeletons to spar with each other and they sprang into action, blades clashing. Blaise watched them thoughtfully.

"Well," she decided after a few moments, "that's not as bad as I expected. Now let's get going, you've had a minute to catch your breath." She didn't wait for a response before setting off with a long, loping stride. Morgan trotted to keep up, maintaining a respectful distance. He felt cautiously optimistic. Grudging acceptance was among the best possible outcomes he'd dared to consider.

They'd had to stop for the night. Tristram was simply too far to reach in a single day, no matter how fast they walked. Few words had passed between them during that day, which suited Morgan quite well. Conversation so often felt like a maze to navigate, and he could rarely figure out the right solution. His golems responded quickly and easily to mental suggestions, not requiring any specific words to perform actions or be dismissed. It was so much simpler with them. The skeletons from earlier waited obediently for their next orders, standing guard at the edge of the camp.

Silence was easy. He'd nodded silently when Blaise declared she was stopping to hunt dinner, observed silently as she dressed and roasted the small rabbit she'd shot. Now he was eating silently from his own supply of dried meat, watching the archer oil and restring her bow. It was captivating, in a small way, watching people do things expertly. The fluidity of her actions, the balanced push and pull of her muscles as she conditioned the wood, the way the firelight cast shifting patches of brighter orange on the coppery tone of her skin.

"What the hell are you smiling at, ghoul boy?" Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. He stopped. The question felt like a trap.

"I was just... admiring you," Morgan ventured. If there had been a correct answer, that wasn't it. Blaise crossed the distance between them with a few long strides and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him onto his feet.

"Listen close, you disgusting little man, because I'm only going to say this once," she snarled. "I'm here with you right now because I respect my commander. I'm not here for your enjoyment. If you want your cock to stay attached, you'd better keep it in your fucking pants."

"What? No, that's not - I didn't mean-" Morgan stammered, horrified. Had there been a sexual connotation to his phrasing? He definitely hadn't intended one. He'd have to remember not to say that again.

She gave him a shake. "Tell me you understand what I'm saying to you."

"I understand," he croaked. She released him roughly, sending him sprawling in the dirt. He picked himself up gingerly. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Morgan closed his mouth and averted his eyes, shrinking back. An apology would have to wait until Blaise was... less furious.

She eventually turned away. "I'll take first watch," she announced with her back to him. "Can't sleep like this."

He wasn't going to sleep either, not after that outburst. It would be prudent to rest, though. He returned to his seat by the fire and settled in to meditate. The skeletons folded down into themselves, collapsing in an orderly manner so they would be easy to raise again later. Blaise whirled around at the noise.

"What are you doing?" She squinted suspiciously at the neat piles of bones.

"Putting them away. They don't stay together very long when I'm resting."

"Resting." Morgan wished immediately that he'd chosen a different way to phrase it. Maybe an explanation would help.

"Golems need magic to hold them together. Once they run out, if they don't get more, they just fall apart."

"Uh huh, sure. 'Resting' is a weird way to say 'sleeping' if that's what you mean, though. So what exactly do you plan to do behind my back all night if it isn't sleeping?"

"Just meditation."

"Why not sleep like a normal person?"

Morgan made the mistake of hesitating, unable to decide how to answer on the spot. Blaise jabbed her bow towards him.

"I said, why not?"

"It's nearly the same thing," he explained, "just with more awareness. I don't usually sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. None of my Order do."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I don't lie, but if you don't believe me, I can't make you." He did not look away from her gaze, though he wanted to. It was uncomfortable. But people seemed to equate eye contact with honesty, so he made the effort.

Blaise didn't look satisfied with his answer, but she lowered her bow and turned her back on him again, muttering under her breath. It would do, then. He sat in silence for a minute or so before starting to meditate. Being rested was always preferable to the alternative.

#my writing #story: unbidden

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willadisastercry · 4 years ago

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Appendicitis in space...

tw: emetophobia, appendicitis symptoms described, surgery, anesthesia, anxiety.

Coran is secretly shitting himself when the scanner lets him know that this particular human condition requires actual surgery. Most serious injuries they sustained did, but most also could be mended in a pod. This one was an exception, though. Because nothing needed to be fixed, something needed to be removed.

Lance tumbled forward awkwardly as the simulator sputtered and powered down.

“What gives, Shiro? I had that round!”

“Oh yeah? Then that wasn’t me just watching you getting your ass handed to you? Right,” Shiro laughed and he began packing up the equipment that had been pulled out.

“That’s enough for today anyway. Good work, everyone.”

Lance couldn’t even find it in him to continue his protests as he leaned over on his knees to catch his breath while he waited for the cramping in his side to dissolve.

Training that morning had been rough for everyone. Shiro wanted to ensure that the lull in active missions did not leave his team thinking they could kick back. So they worked on hand to hand combat and trained on as hard of a level they could tolerate until they became proficient in whichever skill they were focusing on.

Everyone did pretty well. They all made varying degrees of progress, but progress nonetheless.

Well, everyone except for Lance.

And he was pissed.

So he determined not to quit until he improved from his navice standing with a short sword, running the simulation countless times but barely making a dent.

He fought sloppily, all desperation and no strategy. Actually he did have sort of a strategy if you counted fighting simply to survive and that was not how you were supposed to train, but Shiro gave up on driving that point home early on.

Because Lance was visibly off.

Shiro had chided him earlier for picking at his breakfast, that he would regret it once they began training, but he just shrugged.

Lance barely spoke the entire morning of which Shiro was very wary of given that he was usually the most energetic of the bunch in the mornings.

But he assured the older boy he was fine.

Shiro knew that he had been feeling crappy the last few days so at first he attributed the weird behavior to him probably still feeling gross.

So when he fought sloppily he knew it was because he was fatiguing much quicker than his teammates. That when he got hit by an obvious blow it was because his brain quite literally couldn’t keep up with the battle.

He’d start off okay only to spend the rest of the simulation narrowly feigning off every strike after the first few parries and getting properly clobbered by way too many.

Shiro was glad he was able to recognize his shoddy performance for what it was before he exacerbated the issue, making a mental note to check in on him later that day as he finished cleaning up.

The paladins stalked off to the showers, Hunk and Pidge engaging in a riveting conversation explaining to Keith how the castle’s ‘waste’ was plumbed and disposed of.

He was horrified to say the least.

Lance lagged behind, the exhaustion from the session making his limbs feel so very heavy. Not to mention the knot in his side had never gone away and the trek was only increasing his discomfort as the adrenaline high wore off.

But he resigned that he was just overly tired and that a hot shower would likely help.

And it did, for his aching muscles. But his abdomen was still taut, the steady pulse of discomfort making him a little queasy.

He detached the removeable shower head and held it on his side for a moment. The water was boiling and so the heat seemed to numb the spot, but the pain was still there.

He gingerly began probing the area as he tried to work out what exactly was hurting, thinking maybe he’d pulled a muscle.

His stomach had been feeling weird for the last couple of days, but it had never been a concentrated pain like this.

And as he pressed around he was able to pinpoint the exact spot that was smarting the most so he could rub out whatever the issue was.

But as soon as he put pressure on it he knew he’d messed up.

It wasn’t even the pressure so much as the lack of it because when he removed his fingers to work out the soreness he grunted loudly as pain erupted at the site.

He was so caught off guard by the sudden sharpness that took over the dull ache that he dropped the shower head and it clanged on the tile, just narrowly missing his foot when he hadn’t even made an effort to avoid it.

His vision went white for a second and he stumbled into the wall, mostly due to the intense fear that was now upon him, and it took a second for the blood rush to settle before he could hear his friends knocking on the door of the shower stall.

“—ance? Lance!”

“The fuck is going on in there...”

He took a shuddering breath and called out that he was fine, he was just tired.

“Are you like weak in the knees tired or what? Because if you pass out in there and we have to help you while you’re butt ass naked, I swear—“

“I’m not going to pass out,” he groaned as he leaned his head back against the wall with a hand hovering carefully on his side.

“Okay, you’ve just been in there forever.”

“And Shiro said to keep an eye on you for suspicious behavior.”

“He’s not a suspect, Pidge, he’s just stubborn.”

“Well I am very much okay, so you can tell Shiro that and leave me alone.”

“Jeez—“

“Damn, well if you take a header you’ve gotten your wish, you’re on your own.”

Hunk and Pidge started off and Lance sighed, about to apologize when his side twinged, stealing a more pained sound from his throat.

He leaned his head back and tried to breathe through it, the worst muscle cramp of his life, once again not really being able to pay attention to what else was happening.

The pain wasn’t spreading, it was intensifying. Twisting and burning under each harsh pant, like someone was holding a fire poker to him and moving it around.

It was making his head swim and his stomach churn. He had been nauseous all morning and hadn’t eaten, so he was very confused as to how he could possibly need to throw up now, but there was no questioning it when he almost choked on the saliva rushing to fill his mouth.

He didn’t know when he’d grabbed the towel thrown over the door and tied it around his waist or when he’d made a break for the toilets across the room, he just knew he was moving and that he wouldn’t make it there.

And then he was hunching over one of the many sinks heaving, his side in a fiery protest with each contraction in his stomach.

The blood rush was back in his ears, so he didn’t know that Keith was talking to him or that he was even there until he was hitting his back when he couldn’t breathe in between gags and almost choked on his own sick. The shock of the hit allowed his stomach to break its cycle of relentless clenching.

He spit up the last of the bile that made its way up his throat and ducked his head further between his shoulders as he leaned on the sink while he caught his breath.

His lungs ached and he was dizzy. Everything seemed to hurt from that, all temporarily dulling the bite of the worsening throb in his side.

“Ok, what the fuck was that?” he could hear Keith asking after a minute.

He started to speak, to give an explanation, but he didn’t even know what to say, he wasn’t sure what was wrong. But when he went to talk his side pulsed rather aggressively and he was instantly gagging again.

Not much came up this time though as his stomach had already divulged itself of all its contents.

After he calmed back down, he looked up at himself through the mirror.

He was really pale except for a splash of red across his cheeks, his muscles tight and straining as he suffered through his discomfort and the pain, skin glistening in a mix of sweat and water.

And then he found Keith’s pointed gaze in it.

“Should I get Coran? You look like shit.”

“Ah—uhyh huh...” he struggled to formulate his words through his ragged breaths but got there eventually.

“Ye-yeah, please...”

“Okay, you good here or do you need to sit?”

“I-I’m gonna put... something on,” he stated before pushing himself up from the sink uneasily. Once he was up straight he wobbled a little and Keith grabbed his arm, but he shook him off saying he just needed a second and waited for the swirling black dotting his vision to disappear before heading for his pile of clothes on the bench.

Keith stayed next to him the entire way, making sure he got there without splitting his head open, more worried now then he was when Lance was choking on his own puke.

But he hid it well for the most part, except when he was actually being really nice. That was his tell.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t try and get to the toilet if you need to yak again, wouldn’t want anything to happen to that amazing brain of yours—“

“Hey...”

“Kidding, i’ll be really quick though. And seriously just stay there.”

“Yup, not going anywhere...” he assured, returning his hand to hover over the fire that felt like it was burning a hole in his side, the other waving Keith off.

Lance pulled his hoodie from the pile first. His skin was covered in goose bumps from how cold he was and he didn’t have the energy to put his entire post workout sweat suit on so it would have to do for now.

He shrugged it on carefully, it took a while because lifting his right arm up aggravated his side, but once it was on he felt better. He was still really cold and his hair was still wet so that wasn’t helping.

Pants next. Well underwear first. He found his boxer briefs in the pile and got to his feet wearily. He was still really dizzy and so he decided to proceed with caution and moved over to lean against the wall for this.

He took a deep breath and leaned over to put his feet through. It hurt. The orientation made his head pound dangerously and he straightened up only to feel a twinge from his side.

Fuck, he remembered thinking as he leaned heavily on the wall. But he very much needed to have underwear on when Coran came back, so he tried again.

This time he just dropped his arms down in front of him, keeping his torso straight as he raised one leg at a time through each leg hole.

Success. He breathed a sigh of relief and released his towel then started for the sweat shorts but his body did not like that.

He was none too kindly reminded of how lightheaded and dizzy he still was in that moment and he staggered forward, his foot catching a wet spot on the floor and the momentum of the error took him to the ground hard.

He landed very much on his ass but the fall jolted through his side like he’d gotten shot. If he thought it was on fire before, he was very wrong. This heat was excruciating and nauseating and blinding and gosh it was hard to breathe.

He hadn’t known when he’d laid down but he was suddenly very aware he was writhing on his side, feet kicking and searching for purchase on the tile as he arched through the pain piercing his abdomen.

And then there was a shadow over him. It sounded like robots were talking over him, their cold hands gripping his shoulders and face and turning him to lie on his back.

He had just been so cold but their hands felt so much colder because he was not aware he had started sweating. That wasn’t the only thing coming back to him, so was the nausea rippling through his stomach just as intensely as the fire raged.

He tried to focus his eyes, tried to see the faces over him. It was hard with how everything seemed to be spinning but eventually he could make them out.

“C-Coran, please... p-please”

“I will my boy, but you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. What’s hurting?”

His hand moved from scratching at the tile to tug on his sweatshirt pocket.

“Where on your stomach? Show me,” Coran ordered as he lifted Lance’s sweatshirt up to his chest.

From the outside everything looked perfectly fine, aside from his abnormal parlor.

So Coran was dubious when he watched the sick boy move his hand cautiously over his side right beside and a little lower down than his belly button, his fingertips barely brushing the warm skin but producing a stiff breath anyway.

“Hm,” Coran mused, muttering a quick ‘forgive me boy’ before he pressed down on and around the spot.

Lance’s scream was drowned by his gag and then Keith was beside Coran, his hands tilting Lance’s face to the side and then pulling his torso that way as well. He thrashed and tried to wriggle out of their grips as he struggled, the pressure of being on the side that was on fire too much as his gut wrenched up nothing but yellow.

“Calm down Lance, you’re okay!”

“Breathe boy, you’re working yourself up and it’ll only make it worse. I think your appendix has ruptured, we’ll need to get you to the infirmary immediately...”

He wasn’t sure what was said after he that, his memory of getting to the infirmary was hazy because of how much it fucking hurt.

He was vaguely aware of curling up in a wheelchair, one hand clutching his stomach and another barely holding open a vomit bag up to his mouth. Nothing was coming up then except for saliva.

He didn’t even remember being lifted into a bed in the infirmary because the movement had unsettled his stomach once more, stealing his breath while he struggled against the vice wrapping around his empty stomach.

They had to put a cannula around his nose to get him extra air while he dry heaved, but he only calmed down after he quite literally almost stopped breathing and Keith ignored Coran’s protest to hit him on the back like before.

He was also sort of aware he had started crying at some point and was reminded of that when Coran was pressing onto his side once more.

At this point he didn’t even have the energy to struggle, he just continued to tremble violently under the touch as fresh tears spilled down his face.

“Hey, shh you’ll feel much better soon,” a new voice assured as they ran their hands through his damp hair. He leaned into the touch and saw that both belonged to Shiro.

“Shit, if I had known you had freaking appendicitis I would never have made you train today,” he laughed sadly.

He shut his eyes closed at that and tried to breathe through the waves of nausea against his pounding headache all topped off by the fire poker in his side.

“Coran what’s the estimated time in the pod for this, you think?” Keith asked as the others were just arriving.

“I’m afraid he cannot go into a pod just yet,” Coran said gravely, not once lifting his face from his tablet.

“Lance!”

“Woah, what the quiznak happened?!”

“He’s so freaking pale, oh my god.”

“It’s his appendix,” Keith offered.

“The scans show that the organ has completely ruptured and is leaking into his abdomen. It is something that can only be remedied with—with surgery.”

“Oh, Coran... is that—something we can even do here?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

The time between when Shiro explained what was going to be happening to Lance and when they were about to put him under went impossibly slow and too fast all at once.

He would gag occasionally but nothing came up with it. They had since attached a bunch of wires all over him and put an IV in his arm that was giving him pain medicine and antibiotics.

It seemed to help a lot with his discomfort and he eased into the bed after they finally kicked in, his body relaxing for the first time in a while.

“I’m n’gonna feel an’thing right?” He asked Coran, his words sloshing together from the mix of utter exhaustion and drugs.

“Of course not my boy, this will take care of that as will the pain medicine,” he assured as he held a weird altean breathing mask in his hands.

“I’m going to put it over your nose and mouth now, just breathe normally and we’ll do a little count down while you fall asleep.”

Coran motioned to place the mask on him, but he turned away from it.

Lance looked around wildly as if he couldn’t see the multiple friendly faces looking at him and the machines recording his heart rate began to pick up, and then was reaching for someone, anyone.

“We’re here! We’re all right here,” Keith said taking up his hand with a wire attached to his finger, Shiro was grabbing the other.

“I-I don-I don’t”

“You’ve got to buddy, you’re really sick,” Shiro soothed as he ran his hands through his hair once more. The touch calmed him only somewhat, his breath hitching once more as he continued to worry.

“I k-know, but I-I’m scared I w-won’t...”

He was crying again.

“Won’t what buddy?” Hunk asked tenderly as his hand fell to Lance’s leg.

“What if I d-don’t wake up,” he managed before his breathing took a turn and Coran rushed to go find a remedy for it, not quite understanding it was mostly him just being anxious.

Pidge was pushing past all the bodies looming over the bed and sufficiently blocking her from being able to help Lance, but once she shoved Shiro forward she was scrambling onto the bed and nuzzling herself against Lance’s good side.

He gasped at her presence but seemed to melt into it soon after he realized what she was doing. She pulled at the hand clutching Shiro’s and placed it on her back so he could feel her calm breaths and ground himself.

“Slow and deep, you’re okay,” she urged and leaned her head against his chest, his sweatshirt was still on but folded up under itself to expose his stomach, a circle had been drawn around the location of his appendix.

He leaned his head against hers and breathed slow shaking breaths.

“Coran it’s alright, he’s calming down on his own,” Keith urged just as Coran turned up with some strange altean herb that was purple and emitting some sort of low cooing sound.

“You’re going to be just fine, Lance. Coran would never let anything bad happen to you.”

“Yeah, and if you feel like taking an extra long snooze we’ll be here to rudely wake you up like we always do,” Pidge added and she could feel Lance relax under her weight.

“I’m s-sorry for being so mean earlier, guys—“

“Shh, no more saying ‘i’m sorry’. Just accept the cuddle and zip it.”

Lance could almost summon a laugh but the pain in his side prevented it.

“Let’s try again with the sleepy time mask, yeah?”

“Yeah...”

He reached for Shiro’s hand again and all of the other hands on him tried to soothe him as best they could as he tensed when the mask descended on his face.

“We’ve gotcha bud.”

“You’ll be just fine Lance.”

“Nothing bad can happen to when you’re being cuddled so viscuously.”

“Okay, let’s start counting back from 10.”

“10, 9—“

“Easy, count slower. You’re alright.”

A second hand was on his head, pushing his hair back and trailing behind his ear. He closed his eyes at the sensation, it was something his mamá would do.

“9... 8... 7...”

“That’s it number three, easy...”

Around 5 he stopped counting. He felt his body becoming heavier and heavier as he breathed through the strange mask, he could feel the gentle but firm touches of his teammates, the only constant as he breathed deeper and deeper, a pleasant haze falling over him.

He could feel the level in Pidge’s breath, and tried to match it, his eyelids feeling so heavy they were hard to keep open.

And then he felt light.

The last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut was Allura and Hunk smiling while they said something that was lost on him.

He didn’t care though, he didn’t need to hear it to know what they meant.

He remembered feeling really safe in that moment.

He wasn’t scared anymore.

#vld #whump scenario #lance angst #vld lance #voltron fic #voltron whump #lance mcclain #sick boy #voltron sick fic #voltron fandom #lance whump #lance anxiety #keith helps #concerned keith

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shihalyfie · 4 years ago

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No, Miyako and Iori’s Digimentals were not switched, can we please stop endorsing that

There’s a really common argument that Miyako and Iori’s initial Digimentals should have been “switched” (i.e. give Knowlegde to Miyako and Love to Iori), and accusing the series of trying to pigeonhole Miyako into a “girl” box by giving her the two Crests that originally belonged to her Adventure predecessor girls (Sora and Mimi). While I am not ever going to say that Adventure or 02 were the paragon of feminism, I seriously take issue with this reading, not only because of the fact that I feel it’s a misreading of Miyako and Iori’s characters to consider these Digimentals inappropriate, but also because the “alternative” suggestion of swapping them is an even worse misreading of what said Digimentals are actually about, and would result in an extremely unfitting result.

I would say that the major reasons these misconceptions get drawn a lot are mostly pertinent to the following:

A common misreading of the actual meaning of the “Crest of Knowledge”

The fact that Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori’s initial Digimental traits actually kick in the most in the latter half of the series, after they get their second set -- i.e., the secondary Digimentals are actually more obvious than their first set, even though the secondary ones are the ones to get focus episodes. (For a brief example with Daisuke, his “courage” resembled reckless foolhardiness for a lot of the first half, but at the end of the Kaiser arc and the entire second half it became very clear that Daisuke was still standing resolute in the face of what he knew were increasing stakes, which is a much, much more genuine show of courage.)

If you do want to make the argument that Miyako got this treatment “because she’s a girl”, you might as well argue that she was initially built from the ground up as someone who mixes core personality traits from Sora and Mimi. But she was absolutely not “pigeonholed”, and, again, I think it’s a severe misreading of her character to think that she was.

All quoted translations are by Ryuu-Rogue (Adventure) and PositronCannon (02).

The Crest of Knowledge

The Crest of “Knowledge” is a bit of a misnomer. It’s tempting to read it as simply “knowing a lot of information”, but note that there’s nothing really virtuous about that. You could easily be someone who “naturally” has a knack for studying or information, and then takes that information to be a smart-aleck who lords over everyone. Considering that the Crests were normally supposed to be about personal growth and virtues, “knowledge” seems like a very poor and incidental thing to be valuing.

In actuality, Adventure’s episode in relation to Koushirou and the Crest of Knowledge (episode 24) made it very clear that being intellectual had nothing to do with it. The entire episode revolves around Koushirou willingly giving up his “inquisitive heart” to the point where Tentomon considers him basically having thrown out himself. Koushirou spends the duration of the episode blindly accepting pseudoscience until Bubbmon snaps him back to his senses, and the “epiphany” that powers AtlurKabuterimon’s evolution later in the episode is as follows:

Koushirou: Staying ignorant isn’t what makes me, me! Wanting to know everything is part of who I am!...My inquisitive heart...I’m sorry for throwing you away. I want to know. I want to know!

The “actual” meaning of the “Crest of Knowledge” is defined here: it’s not about how much knowledge you currently have, it’s about how much knowledge you want to have -- wanting to not only have more information, but to also understand more. This is what fuels Koushirou’s character throughout all of Adventure -- he’s the one who can’t let something go whenever something interests him, and therefore he becomes the team’s valuable analyst and the one making the most progress in understanding the Digital World.

So when we get to 02 episode 2, and Iori claims the Digimental of Knowledge, Koushirou has this conversation with him to indicate him worthy of it:

Koushirou: Iori-kun, what do you think of the Digital World? Iori: What do I think...I don’t know, I just got here. Koushirou: But you’re thinking something, aren’t you? Iori: Yes...I have my own theories, but new questions keep popping in my mind and I want to know more. Koushirou: You have a really curious mind, as I thought. Iori: A curious mind? Koushirou: If you have any questions, please ask me. We’re your friends, and we’ll always help you out.

Just in case there were any ambiguity, Koushirou clarifies the “actual” meaning of the Crest of Knowledge right then and there: it’s not about having knowledge, it’s about curiosity, and that’s what we’re supposed to be looking out for with Iori’s character for the rest of the series.

Nevertheless, this conversation in episode 2 is a little misleading, and probably comes off as performative to many because Iori doesn’t actually show that much interest in the Digital World for the rest of the series, even though Koushirou had expected him to be like-minded in this regard. But what does happen is that once the Kaiser arc passes, and we reach the second half of 02, Iori starts to entertain some very interesting questions in regards to his stubborn insistence on black-and-white morality.

His first major shake to his frame of morality is episode 29, when he realizes that pacifist principles don’t mix well with a Digimon that professes to having no desire beyond wanton destruction.

In episodes 34-35, upon seeing Takeru gung-ho against BlackWarGreymon and the darkness to levels that disturb even him, he immediately goes up to Yamato to get answers on what’s up with Takeru without hesitation.

In episode 43, he starts to contemplate his stance on pacifism again after the SkullSatamon army ultimately forces the kids’ hands on breaking their anti-kill stance.

He asks his grandfather about his father in episode 47, and, upon coming face-to-face with Oikawa in episode 47, starts actually questioning him about his motives before he learns about Oikawa’s connection with Hiroki. The framing of the scene indicates he is very desperate to understand how Oikawa’s mentality could possibly make sense. Once he learns about the connection between the two, he gets even more desperate to understand how a friend of his father, whom he admired so much, could end up like this.

Eventually, his experiences with Ken and Oikawa lead him to become a defense attorney in the 02 epilogue, which is reiterated in side material (Spring 2003, Character Complete File, etc.) to be representative of his desire to “understand the hearts of criminals”.

Iori is not Koushirou, and his curiosity is not tied to intellectual pursuits or the Digital World, as much as he very much wants to understand morality and other people. He starts off the series with a very black-and-white view of it, but the more his intuition about it starts to crack, the more desperate and interested he gets about getting to the bottom of it. It’s a very unconventional way to see “knowledge” when such a term is usually applied to intellectual knowledge, but when you see it in terms of the Crest’s actual definition of “inquisitiveness and curiosity”, it fits like a glove.

What of Miyako? Well, she’s certainly got a lot of intellectual knowledge in the way Koushirou has, in terms of being good with computers, but...that’s...about it, actually. Unlike Koushirou, she doesn’t seem to be motivated by a drive to learn anything new with it. She can be curious about things, but that’s in the same way that everyone has a least a little of each Crest virtue within themselves to some degree; it’s not a driving part of her personality, and in fact, while she’s certainly not dismissive or callous, she sometimes even has a tendency to shut down at things she doesn’t understand and ask that it be simplified for her. In that light, “inquisitiveness and curiosity” actually feels very unfitting.

In fact, Miyako’s “intellectual” pursuits of being good with computers actually have very little to do with her character or personality. She has it as a peripheral hobby, and she engages in it, but unlike Koushirou, who uses his computer work as a way to gain more information and analyze things further, Miyako’s computer work really seems to be largely in the range of hobbies for her. A lot of her work is portrayed as favors for other people -- she helps fix Iori’s family computer, she helps out Yamato’s band, and she’s helpful to Koushirou as his junior -- in fact, the most pertinence Miyako’s computer abilities have with her actual personality is how much it puts Koushirou in her high esteem. So in actuality, all of that ties more into...

The Crest of Love

The Crest of “Love” is too often conflated with the potential for romantic love, especially because Sora was involved in the franchise’s most infamous love triangle, but the name of the Crest is actually aijou, i.e. “affection”. It’s a pretty neutral word, all things considered, and it has to do with being affectionate with and supportive of those around you.

Miyako starts off the series as a bit shallow and sometimes self-centered, but the way she interacts with Iori (someone from the same building quite a few years younger with her) already demonstrates that she’s open-minded about making friends and being friendly. On top of that, Miyako immediately demonstrates herself off the bat as being emotionally sensitive (see how she endears herself to Jou and Mimi in episodes 5-6 and has a bit of a mental health crash in episode 10).

Again, episode 2 tends to be a bit misleading, especially when Sora explicitly compares Miyako more to Mimi more than herself when she guides her towards the Digimental of Love. But observing Miyako’s behavior in most of 02′s second half indicates she is actually more than worthy of her title:

Starting as early as episode 3, she brings food for people, and does this a lot. She does this partially because she has privileges when her family runs the i-Mart, but she’s very much doing it to show her affection for all of her new friends -- it’s implied she’s the ringleader behind the “picnic” idea in episode 6 so that everyone can have a bonding session, despite it (at the time) having no relevance to the territory war and the fact that she’d just met everyone. By the time of episode 33, the way she cheerfully keeps in touch with Koushirou during her trip to Kyoto and brings souvenir yatsuhashi home for everyone (Koushirou included) indicates that she’s always got her friends on her mind.

Anytime she likes something or someone, she is perpetually open about her feelings and makes it very clear that she likes such a thing. Again, see how she immediately endears herself to Mimi, and later Michael in episode 14. (14 is interesting in that her “purity” is front and center that episode, because she calls herself out for being too straightforward about her own shallowness, but it’s worth noting that the way she manifests said shallowness is by being openly affectionate.)

Episode 24 has her notice that Daisuke’s feeling left out when Takeru and Hikari walk off on their own, and immediately assign him to nursery care duty where he can have fun and feel a little fulfilled teaching them soccer. This is a very often-overlooked scene, but she had basically no motive to do this except to make Daisuke happy, and the way she looks on the scene fondly indicates she’s very proud of herself for doing so -- she knew exactly what she was doing there, and is actually far more emotionally in touch with others than she’s often given credit for.

She is the second most proactive (behind Daisuke) to bid for Ken’s acceptance into the group, and while she initially seems to take a slightly more passive approach than he does, she immediately goes into given name basis with him (before Daisuke does, even!), takes a personal investment in seeing him become friends with Iori in episode 30, has a stake in reaching out to both Hikari and Ken in episode 31 (and is self-conscious about her running-her-mouth behavior being too insensitive), and Ken’s emotional well-being and welfare is a perpetual thing on her mind for the rest of the series (see: her going out of her way to accommodate his worries in episode 46).

Although Miyako’s propensity for affection is actually quite clear throughout the entire series, I do really think it’s the second half of 02 that brings it out the most, because her way of connecting to otherwise emotionally closed-in characters like Hikari and Ken ultimately demonstrate a lot about how outwardly proactive she is about those feelings, and how integral she is to keeping the group of friends together -- there’s very good reason she’s often referred to by third parties as a “mood maker”, someone there to keep everyone in high spirits.

And what about Iori? It’s hard to argue he doesn’t have love, of course. He has a very deep and passionate love for those around him! But, again, while he does have a propensity for it, that doesn’t mean it’s a trait that necessarily defines him, especially because his stubborn and passionate hatred of certain things ends up making the others have to pull teeth a bit with him at times.

Of course, one could argue that it comes out of his love for the things he wants to protect. But, nevertheless, I would still say it’s rather inaccurate to say that the trait defines him nearly as much as it does Miyako, who is openly and passionately affectionate, actively tries to be open-minded towards new things in her life, and spends a lot of her time doting on others and her hobby work doing favors for her friends.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #miyako inoue #iori hida #inoue miyako #hida iori #shihameta

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prettyyoungandbored · 4 years ago

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Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

“27 down is ‘falafel.”

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin.

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word.

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.”

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat.

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’”

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.”

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come.

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said.

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.”

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears.

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.”

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning.

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him.

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked.

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.”

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.”

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough.

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said.

“Anything.”

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.”

“Not an issue at all.”

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.”

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing.

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out.

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.”

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her. He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard.

“Please be careful, Bruce.”

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred.

“What number are we on, Alfred?”

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’”

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit.

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk.

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted.

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?”

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.”

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.”

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.”

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this.

“Miss Gallagher?”

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand.

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.”

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.”

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.”

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves.

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.”

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function.

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home.

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned.

“Of course.”

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?”

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.”

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked.

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.”

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.”

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.”

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.”

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing.

“May I?” Demetria asked.

“By all means.”

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?”

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.”

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said.

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said.

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said.

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said.

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug.

“You know how to play?” Harry asked.

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?”

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s.

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked.

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.”

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.”

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered.

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?”

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket.

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. “Who’s next?”

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face.

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him.

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered.

“See! You got it!” she said.

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket.

The other boys and Demetria cheered.

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.”

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years.

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her.

She smiled. “Alright.”

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?”

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.”

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria.

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked.

The responded, each voice overlapping the other.

“She’s pretty good.”

“She’s good.”

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully.

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit.

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up.

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.”

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?”

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around.

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed.

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street.

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce.

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.”

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera.

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!”

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer.

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!”

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.”

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?”

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.”

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?”

“Ok.”

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it.

She was going to take care of it.

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 47

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Argus was beautiful. The Mistrali architecture blended and contrasted nicely with that of its Atlesian half. We rode a tram through the city streets and felt the quiet security of the place. There was a humble peace here, one the Black-Out day panic hadn't touched.

I sighed.

It was nice. The environment was relaxing.

Especially after the train ride had turned stressful for me.

My Jaune's semblance was like Blake's Adam's. That meant something. They were similar. They had to be. That's how semblances worked. They were about the soul and that meant Jaune's soul, his very essence, was like Adam's.

That was scary. I'd heard of Adam by now and seen the harm he brought my sister. He'd planned to bomb Haven. He'd set the Grimm loose at Beacon.

Jaune had once described using the Grimm as a weapon as a genius move. Was the difference between him and Adam smaller than I thought? The way Blake told it, it was possible. It was possible enough to make me doubt my own memory of things.

Like when Jaune had killed for the first time. A beat of blue light and the other man fell into two halves. Or even the second time, too. He was drenched in blood. He'd been so casual about it, he was even joking around a little. It made me wonder if it was the second time or just the second time I knew about.

However, Blake's Adam was an obsessive creature, that was the portrait she painted of him, and maybe Jaune was too, but obsessive was the polar opposite of traitorous. It didn't match up. If Jaune was like Adam, he should have been killing for our cause, not turning on us. That's what didn't add up about it. It's why even with Blake's story I was willing to stick to my guns, so to speak.

And Jaune was obsessive.

He was crazy about Cinder and getting his revenge. The only thing that held him back from jumping her at Haven was me and his similar obsession for me.

Salem did something to Jaune. She must have. It was the only way Blake's story lined up. It was the only way Jaune's personality matched his actions. No matter what he was offered he would have said ‘no.’ He would never turn on us intentionally. Something else must be at work.

I brushed my hair back and rubbed the smooth handle of Crescent Rose. I listened to our cart troll along, bumping against the smooth road.

Jaune was out there. He was waiting for me to save him. There was nothing in this world to stop me from worrying about him. He was somewhere, maybe bringing the relic to Salem. Soon he'd be even further in her clutches and here I was going away more and more.

I missed the sound of his voice, the deep baritone. I missed his arms around me. I missed his plans, his mind. I missed his aura, a comfort that nothing else could replicate and replace. Nothing else delivered on that.

We moved towards the military base, a distant part of the city. A reminder of Atlas's strength but far enough away to keep it out of the denizen's minds. They didn't need to be reminded constantly about war and the power of the gunships. Just the occasional touch would do to secure the place mentally.

We approached the gates to the place. Two guards in Atlesian drab met us at the entrance through the bars.

"Hey we need to secure passage to Atlas." I began. "Can you help us?"

"I know Ironwood, we work together."

"Impossible. Besides-"

"The borders are closed," one guard continued.

"No one in or out of Atlas."

"Come on, you didn't even hear us out." Yang shook the bars.

"Our orders are clear."

"The Mistral-Atlas borders are closed."

"Please have a good day."

"But-" Yang began.

"A good day," They said in unison.

"Hey if you don't want to believe that I'm friends with Ironwood-"

"-General Ironwood."

"Right. General Ironwood." Qrow continued. "But look we've got Weiss Schnee with us and we're trying to get her home safely."

They cocked their heads and said together. "Approach."

Weiss gave us all a helpless look. Blake managed an encouraging nod.

They examined Weiss for a long pause. Making sure she was indeed Weiss, probably. She was Weiss so they leaned back and shared a glance.

"Very well-"

"-You may speak with our commanding officer."

"We will fetch her at once."

They marched away in synchronization. With a "Hup-hup-hup-hup-" never let it be said that they didn't take their jobs seriously.

"They were kind of-" Blake began.

"Super weird?" I finished. "Uh-yeah."

"Keep it together. This may be our best shot at getting into Atlas."

"Ms. Schnee, you remember the code phrase you're supposed to give James when you see him?" Ozpin asked.

Weiss nodded.

"Very good. Qrow is correct. You stand the best chance of passing a message along to him. It is likely the rest of us will have to remain here. We will see about finding lodging after meeting with this officer."

"Introducing-" we tried back to the young men working the gate. "Special Operative Caroline Cordovin!"

They stood aside to reveal a short elderly woman with a metallic glint in her eye.

"Hello Operative Cordovin. I'm Weiss Schnee." Weiss gave a little curtsey as she introduced herself.

"Indeed? I've seen the special report informing us to keep an eye out for you. Plus you look ever so much like your sister. We're both Special Operatives so I know her."

"Is that so…" Weiss trailed. "It is imperative that I speak with General Ironwood and secure passage for myself and my companions into Atlas."

"If I may ask, why must you speak to the general?"

"I have a special message for him. His ears only."

"I see… well I'd be happy to secure your transit into Atlas. I've even been ordered to do so given the opportunity but I have no orders for anyone else. I'm afraid your companions will have to stay here until I receive directions to the contrary."

"Very well. If I could just speak to Ironwood I'm sure that he would allow them special passage."

"Unfortunately communication between here and Atlas is limited. He trusts me to run things as I see fit." She looked over the back of her fingernails as she humble-bragged.

"Just me, then. How soon can you have an airship ready?"

Caroline nodded to her men and they opened the gate for Weiss. They closed it behind her and I watched her go on, alone. My heart ached for her but we knew it might come to this. It would be fine. Just for a few days.

I was still worried about her. I knew how much she would hate being alone but she was a big girl. She could tough it out. Besides, the fate of the world was at stake. I'd see her again.

"Well that's settled," I said. "For now at least."

"Come on kids, let's find a place to spend the night." My uncle turned on mechanical legs and strode down the street.

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We marched through the city, searching for an inn we could stay the night at. We rounded a corner and that's when they jumped us.

They came down off the roof in unbelievable unity. Three girls, in masks and balckware came out of the night.

I spun Crescent Rose into it's full form before me. Just in time to block the slash of a knife in my directions. She backed away and fired a gun at me twice. Dagger and gun, she somersaulted through the air at me. She fired the pistol in my face and lashed out with the knife at the last second.

"Where's the relic?" She demanded. Her voice was soft and urgent. She couldn't have been much older than me. She was probably a shade younger, in fact. That or she was incredibly lithe. I struck out at her with Crescent Rose but she-she sort of ate the attack against her body. Her aura flashed with red and blue flames. She grunted with it, a sort of moan.

I fired a shot into her body and she rolled with it. Purple aura flaring over the site of the attack.

She lashed out at me with her knife, trying to slash me. She did a rolling side-flip with it, bringing it around her body and trying to cut me. She tried to breach my range but I disappeared and reappeared a few steps back.

They attacked all of us together. One had a sword with two parallel blades. The last had a set of gauntlets with knives attached to the tips.

They were fast, strong, and skilled, flipping over us and taking us by surprise. My uncle rotated his weapon into play and clashed with the sword user who flipped between him and Oscar. The last engaged Blake and Yang simultaneously.

They all had blonde hair tied up and their masks revealed blue eyes like crystal.

It all seemed incredibly familiar.

I lashed out again and she ate my attack with her aura once more. The blue and red flames wreathed her and burnt at me. It made me take a step back and yelp with pain.

She sort of floated in place as she took two shots at me with her pistol. Her other hand coming up to stabilize with the knife underneath.

She lashed out with the knife as she got closer and I had to say she was good at getting into my guard with her narrow flips and small attacks.

She came up to me and did a sort of kick flip right in my face that nearly connected with my chin. She jumped and kicked at me again with her narrow feet and forced me backwards away from the lashing limbs.

I hit her with the back end of Crescent Rose, knocking her to the asphalt, but she just jumped back to her feet. She jabbed at me two times with her knife, ultra fast, and shot at me again.

I slashed, twirling Crescent Rose at her and bringing my body with it in a whirlwind of attacks. She flipped end over end away from me and I realized she was trying to draw me away from my friends and I held firm. I took a few potshots at her but was careful shooting in the middle of a city. A missed shot could kill a bystander easily.

But then a ghostly specter of red and blue appeared around her body. It lashed out in time with her kicks against me, increasing the force and bashing me back. It had strength beyond her small body. It flared blue and red around her. It didn't seem to keep her safe from harm.

She flipped at me, knife in hand and a crescent of red followed it as the specter which hovered over her, lashed out, overlapping her attack with it's own claws. Instead the monstrous ghost was augmenting her attacks. It was nearly eight feet tall and was a menace of red and blue light.

The girl with the sword flared purple with soft lightning as well and her speed seemed to increase as she flipped through the air, lashing out against Oscar with her blade before leaping back to deal my uncle a blow. She twirled in the air with grace.

She caught Oscar's cane between the blades of her sword. She swung it away and Oscar's cane went clattering down the street. The girl with the sword jumped and slammed both feet into Qrow's chest and knocked him to his knees. He was still unsteady on his new legs.

Blake and Yang seemed to have the situation under control the most. They dealt their attacker a rapid team attack that slammed her against a brick wall. Yang's fists were bared and at the ready. Blake vanished into shadow and let Yang hit through where she used to be to knock her against the wall again.

Yang lashed out with her fist and the girl only narrowly ducked under it. Blake slashed at where she was going and caught the girl on the side. It knocked her to the ground.

Blake tossed Yang the ribbon of Gambol Shroud and together they clotheslined the girl.

The lead girl jumped and lashed out at me with her legs and the hovering ghost attacked in time with her. Increasing her strength immensely. Hovering behind her and beating against my defenses in perfect time with the girl in front of me, the specter was hard to keep track of and I swept my blade through it and it did nothing.

"Where is the relic!?"

"We don't have the relic!" I shouted. She knocked me off my feet and down to the ground. The disembodied pressure of the specter floating behind her disappeared as she went to help her fallen compatriot.

"Blake look out!" I called.

The girl I'd been fighting dealt her a staggering blow with the spirit in tow. It must have been her semblance, that glowing specter that reinforced her attacks.

She rocked Blake back and slammed her against a wall.

"They don't have it on them, sister." The girl with the fisticuffs said as she was pulled to her feet by the girl with the dagger and gun. "The relic isn't here."

The girl with the dagger and gun growled. She took shots at us while they backed off. Using team attacks and surprising maneuverability to cover one another as they made their way back to the roof tops. They hopped off the walls of one building like ninjas and made their way to the top.

The girl with the dagger and gun stretched a hand down and hauled the girl with the double sword over and onto the roof. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

I rushed over to Qrow and Oscar.

"Are you two alright?"

"We're fine. Who were those girls?" Qrow breathed.

"I don't know."

"They looked a little familiar, though." Blake said, she held her hands on her thighs and panted.

"They were looking for the relic." Oscar said. "She kept asking us where it was, over and over again."

"Do you think they worked for Salem?" Yang asked.

"I've never seen or heard of agents who match their description before." Oscar said in an Ozpin like voice. "But it is possible. Perhaps even likely."

The police arrived to the sound of gunshots and we gave them our story. How we were attacked and the real culprits escaped into the night. We spent the evening down at the police station repeating our story over and over again to the local authorities.

"What did they mean by 'relic?'" I was asked by a local cop.

I had to tell him I had no idea. I hated lying like that but what choice did I have?

"They weren't making any sense, officers," Yang said. "They sounded hysterical."

"And what are you trying to do in town?"

"We delivered Weiss Schnee to the Argus military base. Maybe that's what all this is about." I lied.

"If I call up Caroline Cordovin will she corroborate that story?"

"She should. She took Weiss from us. I have no idea why she wouldn't." Qrow muttered.

"And where are you ladies and gents staying in town, in case we have more questions and need to get ahold of you?"

"We're not staying anywhere yet. We were looking for a place when we were attacked." Blake explained. It felt like she was saying that for the dozenth time.

"Why don't you give me your scroll numbers? Then we'll let you go on free."

We handed over our numbers and were let out into the very late night.

"Aw man, we're never going to find a place to stay now." I said.

"We should just be glad everyone made it out of that fight okay." Blake murmured. "It was a good thing they were so focused on the relic. They operated like a strike squad. In and out with a non-combat objective."

"But that doesn't make any sense. Why would Salem be trying to take the relic from us. She should know we don't have it." Yang said.

"Unless she doesn't," I said.

"What's that mean?" Yang asked.

"I'm not sure. But it should be a good thing. It means she doesn't know where the relic is."

"You mean she doesn't know where Jaune is? How could she not?" Blake asked.

"It is curious." Oscar or maybe Ozpin put his hands on his cane and leaned on it. "Enemy disorientation is a good thing. I should like to capitalize on it but I'm unsure how. We are missing many details that would set this all straight."

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-WG

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

Note

I loveeeee the way ur brain works and i like all ur posts and love reading them. Its Jimin day today and i wont lie that i am feeling a bit sad about whole JK not posting on JM bday because he was getting active on Social media again and i thought its because of JM bday coming soon but i hope they are happy and JM had a blast celebrating his bday.. it annoys me how other ship( u know which ship) is happy and making fun about this situation and calling Jikook bond fake and nonexsistant. 1/2

Ahhhhhh this topic!

Also me:

Packing my bags off these shipping streets. Jk don disgrace us. Lol. Kidding. If more than anything today has solidified my faith in JK and Jikook and while y'all are jumping ship imma hold the fort. Hashtag Jikook for life!

I've been receiving a lot of questions about this, about JK not posting for JM's birthday and I haven't answered any of them because- well I passed out. So...

Anywho,

Jk didn't post true, but have you thought about what it would have meant for him and JM if he had posted?

Now I see a lot of people running through the ship streets shouting Jikook broke up, something was off between them, Jikook was never real, jikook this- Jikook that- y'all need to calm your horses or I swear to God!

I mean I am down for all that wild gossip and angst but I think y'all is tripping.

Do I think they are in a bad place, HELL NO. Do I think they are not real? HELL NO! Do I think JK don lost his minds? ABSOLUTELY.

Lol

No but seriously, I'm fascinated by all of this. I'm in pain, can't process shit but when it comes to Jikook I'm always intrigued and fascinated by them.

I'm mostly fascinated by why JK pulled a 5/8, geared up for JM's birthday but then posts crickets on Jimin's birthday as you've said.

Is it me or does this whole thing feel like the tattoo girl scandal all over again? Lmho.

Up until now, I've avoided addressing Asks about Jikook coming out, JK proposing and stuff like that because those territories are a bit tricky for me- to speculate on those, I find I'd have to speculate on whether marriage is something both of Jikook want, whether both of Jikook want to come out but these are conversations I don't think y'all are ready for with me.

Not when I believe one of them, if you've been following my train of thoughts you'd know which, is not ready to make such commitments, joking about marriage and shit- yes, that tiny man. Lol.

I mean the backlash I get for the tamer things I share on here- chilee, y'all is about to eat me up for this. Here goes nothing. Mama pray for me.

I have said, late 2018 to the middle of 2019 is one of the moments I sincerely felt JK was going to 'out' Jikook just based on the way he was moving through that era until that impromptu hiatus and the following scandal.

Out Jikook as in OUT Jikook- I've told y'all Jikook have been asserting themselves against eachother. JK has been asserting himself and part of that self assertion ties in with his sexuality. He is tired of hiding. He's been tired since 2016- trouble this one.

Do I think JM is ready to come out- No. He doesn't want to come out but he doesn't want to hide hide either. Dude just want to stay in that glass closet.

Throughout my posts, I've speculated this has been a huge part of their on and off dynamics since November last year. Jk coming off too strong, JM asking for space- yall know don't make me repeat myself.

November 2019 up until today is also one such periods I felt JK was going to out Jikook, inspite of all the ups and downs they've experienced this season.

JK scares me to be honest with you. I keep saying people are looking at him wrong. Hell, people are looking at Jikook dynamics wrong I feel.

All the times Jikook have almost been accidentally outed, who's been the most terrified? It's not JK.

Jimin's face when RM said JK sneaks into JM's bed at night, his face when they walked into JK's room on Bon V and saw the cameras. I have an entire dissertation on this on my wall please get with it. Lol

Whatever silent protest JK's been on since JM's birthday last year- Not gonna lie, I felt JK was not posting for the others so he could post on JM's birthday this year as a way of coming out with him? You know, make a bold statement like he's done over the years? I'm delusional but also dead serious.

Each time I feel JK's come close to this pivotal moment, something's happened. I swear Jikook is taking years off my life- I'm exhausted.

Why is he trying to out their relationship on his own and not do that with the consent of Jimin? I'm gonna pray to God, y'all can read my mind with everything I have been saying since my posts because this is cutting it too close for me- and I'm exhausted so maybe another post next time.

Like I've said, I really believe they are in a good place this time around. Y'all know me, I don't shy from angst, I'd say if I felt there's been something off with them since they fixed whatever they were going through early half of the year.

The only tension I've sensed between them lately was on day two of the online concert when JM got a little too excited with trying to sell the sexual tension fantasy in his other ships and JK didn't look like he was happy about.

Later during the curtain call you could see dude cold stoning JM resulting in JM doing what he does best in such instances- clinging on to JK for their life. Lol.

He vanished from Namjoon's side real quick to take the bow next to JK but JK- Y'all check that moment out for yourself, see what I'm talking about.

Is that why he didn't wish Jimin a happy birthday? I don't think so. I think he put a lot of thought and preparation towards this moment to make something like this undo all of that- that is if my suspicions about what he was trying to do this year is right.

Jimin gone wake up married one of these days he won't know what hit him! Lmho.

It is why, I don't buy this whole he didn't post for the others which is why he didn't post for Jimin narrative. When have you known Jk to care about things like these?

The man literally got a birthday present for Jimin gave it to him in the presence of some of the members without doing same for them. Singling JM out like this is nothing new to him. He has done so consistently over the years to let this deter him.

The question y'all should be asking is why he didn't post for the others in the first place. They are all friends and posting for eachother's birthdays is a long standing tradition in BTS so why is he breaking from this culture all of a sudden?

Is he rebelling? Is he protesting? What is he trying to do? Right?

This moment has been building up since last year after JM's birthday and I honestly believed he was going to go through with it- hell I bought a wedding dress and shit- Jikook you son of bish!

I have said the company is giving them much room to be themselves, RM isn't breathing down their necks, JM looked like he was finally committed- everything looked great between them in my opinion except perhaps for the growing tensions between JK, V and Namjoon- If you've been paying any attention to their recent Twitter war.

I hate speculating based on nothing, so I'm just going to point out to you my observations without drawing conclusions- I'll share my thoughts on what these moments means when I've had more content to peruse and analyze from now- but for now you can make of it what you will:

1. JK starts a count down on Twitter, JM responds and continues the countdown.

Now I clocked, the moment JK posted this on the 5th that he had something up his sleeves with regards to Jimin which I shared with y'all. He was going for a 5/8/13 it's not news now.

2. After Jimin posts day 4 for the countdown, who ever was going to post after him was going to have to post day 3 to continue the countdown right? But Tae posts a V-cut instead breaking that chain.

Now I remember joking about this moment with a friend, rolling my eyes exclaiming, here they go again! V is trying to sabotage JK yet again, and he'd turn around and ask why their friendship is dwindling. The pettiness and passive aggressiveness of it all!

That moment reminded me of when he called JK out for attempting to eyefuck JM through the viewfinder in the Dynamite MV reaction video. Remember that? Same energy to me.

They do shit like this and their shippers will not take note but will turn around and act surprised when we say Taekook ain't all that- rolling my eyes.

3. Hobi continues the countdown with day 3 and RM posts something random the next day but I think it was to neutralize the Taekook shenanigans. Neutralizing is what RM does best- we been knew.

4. Jk posts his Savage Love cover on the 8th and equally doesn't partake in the countdown he himself initiated because- Savage.

5. Suga posts day 2. RM and Jin posts day 1 and Tae posts D-Day on the D day to promote the concert. Yadda yadda yadda.

Now I didn't think much of this moment to be honest- i merely took a mental note of it for future reference, and was paying close attention to their interactions at the concert- which we will talk about soon..

I didn't make much of this bit until VJoonKook became a hold out on Jimin's birthday. They were the last three to post, two of whom ended up not posting at all for Jimin"s birthday- fucking traitors.

It was at this point I felt compelled to put on my tinfoil hat. And reevaluate the situation.

Why were these three people the same trio engaged in that little squabble just a few days ago on the timeline? I wondered.

It felt as if Taekook were engaged in a Russian Roulette racing the clock while Joonie stood by waiting to neutralize whatever shit those two were going to pull on the timeline.

Call me delusional but I felt JK was going to post, Tae was going to try to one up him with a ridiculous post or counter his post- V and his fucking VMin agenda! Lmho

RM was going to end up mirroring whatever JK was going to post to neutralize it as per usual- leave me alone. I said I'm delusional. Let me be. Lol.

There's just a lot going on all at once and it's easy to lose sight of subtle moments like these when they happen.

Like Jimin saying he would be on VLive soon, which first of all- yay!

Y'all know I've been keeping my eyes on the app, most especially how the members are going to use it post IPO, post Soop- I have a lot of questions; will they be monitored like they were in May? Will they be able to have intimate interactions with the fans like before?

Y'all know my theory about Jikook and the VLive stuff so I'll leave it there.

Now as for what this moment here means, I think it's a humbling experience for all of us but mostly for Jimin-JK you sonova bish! Lol

Jimin is the one who loves to flex his bond and relationship with JK, he loves to show off their relationship. He is the one who's been called all sorts of names under the sun just because of his relationship with JK- even if they are friends.

None of the members have suffered and paid a price for their relationship with JK the way Jimin has throughout the years. It is why I hate it when people compare the others to him. Even if it placates you and lessens your insecurities please don't.

I'm not pressed about no ship wars. Hell, I often start one myself- what? fun.

I'm worried for Jimin mostly.

I think JK more than anyone knows how this looks. Which is why I really don't think this is what he was aiming for all along. To make Jimin look this way- again not to say JM is better than the others he didn't post for.

I don't know what's going on with JK now but I am not about to tell you this moment is nothing. It is not nothing.

I know people want to console themselves with the whole my partner don't gotta show off on social media on my birthday to show he loves me- please shut up. Or may be don't. Y'all con shippers confound me.

This is Jikook here, showing is an integral part of their dynamics. Isn't that why people call them a fanservice ship? Because they show so much? Because they do so much?

Jikook like to show off their bond, they like claiming eachother, they like reassuring eachother and I'm sorry but Park Jimin's father set such high standards for his son's birthday for anyone who claim they love him to pull stunts like this. Do y'all know Jikook at all?! I have to ask.

Jimin loves to be treated like he is different and special. It's his love language. We know this, BTS knows this, JK knows this- don't make excuses for JK if at the very least you can't see what he was trying to do here.

Even if you don't think they are a couple they are best friends- at the bare minimum. It doesn't take more than a few seconds to login and wish a friend a happy birthday- Hobi made four and he is not dating Jimin. Just saying.

You can't yell Jikook show us a lot hence there's no need for wild theories and assumptions and bully people who come up with wild theories and then in the same breath say they don't have to openly show us they care about eachother for them to be real- Y'all are going to ship by faith now? Chileee.

I have said JK likes to retract and conceal and only shows what he chooses to show and this was his choice. It's as simple as that. He chose not to post.

He didn't do it because of no damn other members.

He occupies a huge space in JMs life to not know what this moment says about him and his highly publicized relationship with Jimin- chileee, whatever did park Jimin do to you, JK?! Jesus Christ!

Havent heard of a betrayal this grand since the birth of Judas Iscariot- Judas is that you? Lmho.

I joke but I don't find this funny at all. Bless them.

It's one thing to not post for the others, but it's different for Jimin. And this is not to say the others don't matter to JK, they do. He's called them all family but then again he hasn't placed any one of them on a pedestal the way he's placed Jimin on a pedestal now has he? So we cannot assume Jimin means the same to him as the others mean to him.

Isn't that why we ship them?

Personally, I'm hurt by all of this. It hurts me that some people are going to use this as an excuse to tease and bully Jimin, call him a liar, call into question the years of friendship between Jikook, call into question any future interactions between them- I don cried my eyes out all day for Jimin but also for JK.

It hurts that I have to defend JK and Jikook to anyone. The task wasn't easy before all of this- not that anybody sent me. Who died and made me their spokesperson. Chileee

But please let's not dismiss this moment or belittle it. It's monumental- to me anyway.

JK was on to something I'm just curious to know what stopped him this time around. I want to know if he plans on not posting at all for anyone in the future. How long is he going to keep at it?

He's tried to out them twice. Will he do it again? How is he going to do it? What is Jimin going to do if indeed this is what JK had been planning, how is this going to affect their dynamics- I'm excited for their journey however it goes.

It's their journey unauthored. I'm just here to observe and report- and may uWu while I'm at it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, we gotta ask ourselves, had JK posted anything at all today knowing full well he hasn't posted at all for anyone in the group all year, that what would that have meant for their relationship? What message would that have sent?

While we lament about this moment, let's also take a minute to ponder over what this moment might have signified if JK had actually posted.

Everything he did in the days leading up to Jimin's birthday pointed to the fact he was definitely going to post. To me it felt he was gonna come out. He was. And if he had done it- my god!

JK isn't my favorite person right about now. He can go ahead and step on leggos. No kithes for him🙄

But I have faith in him. Always. He's consistently shown and proven his love and loyalty for Jimin through out the years. You don't nibble on a man's ear in front of sixty thousand people, to find posting a simple message on his birthday tedious. This is Jikook. If it feels wrong, it is wrong.

I wish I could tell yall, this moment means nothing, that JK not posting is not a big deal but I can't. This moment is everything.

Signed,

GOLDY

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