#when you're literally about to die so you decide to record your final words with special reference to your bestest colleague | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barbenheimer-core · 3 years

Text

AUDERE EST FACERE !

하나. chanel : part four — 3k words

Wangja crossed the street with a bag of two steaming bowls of ramyeon and red ginseng, speeding up his pace to prevent the noodles from getting too soggy while he walked the path over to his shop where he had left Ahyeong at, sighing as he thought about the new addition to the cast.

When he had walked into his store last night, he was not expecting a stage to commence immediately upon entering the lounge.

Thank the writer (this was the first and last time he was going to say that) that their conversation and actions had already been written out, or else the shop owner would've been gawking at the new girl for the entirety of the stage.

He had been immensely startled back then; it was unusual for him to not know the timing and plot of every stage because he always made sure to check the comic that permanently resided in a small, hidden corner of his shop every single day.

But when he had browsed the comic as soon as Ahyeong had left, he had been bewildered at the sudden shift in the book's contents.

The cast page had been altered to feature four main characters instead of the original trio, and as he had turned the pages, he had noticed the new stages being inked with interactions that had never been present as of before.

To think that an already complicated web of troubling relationships had not been enough for the writer, they had proceeded to add a love square to the mix.

Wangja grimaced at his creator's choices in life. They had definitely been influenced by someone to do so if it had been so last minute.

But one thing was for sure; out of all the stories that the writer had put him in, this was by far the most interesting.

"Ahyeong-ah! I'm back!" he yelled into the air as he stepped in, his voice echoing in the shop.

The silence was his only response.

Confused, he stepped through the streamers that decorated the lounge's archway, eyes searching for the girl while he set the food down on the coffee table next to the abandoned copy of Shiver.

"Ahyeong, are you here-"

He stopped abruptly, gaze finding the peach cover of True Beauty toppled upside down on the floor in front of a shelf he swore no one would notice.

With dread in his mind, he picked it up, turning it around, only to be faced by the drawn version of the person he was looking for.

Oh no. She'd seen it.

If Gilyeong had to describe his sister at that moment, he would've said she looked like she'd risen from a grave in a zombie apocalypse movie.

She looked dead. Alive, yes, but dead.

Like someone had told her whole life was a lie.

When Ahyeong had arrived back home from wherever she had dashed off to during the morning, she had looked like she'd gone through the five stages of grief, questioned the meaning of life, and ran a marathon through the streets of Seoul by how hard she was breathing.

He had almost asked her if she was okay, but that would've come off as him being "concerned for his dear sister," as Eunjung had so uselessly put it, and he hated proving people right. And besides, Ahyeong was clearly not okay.

"Oye, grinch," he called out across the table after seeing her actions.

She looked as if she hadn't even heard him. No annoyed flinch, no irritated twitching of her eyebrow; no reaction at all. Just her mindlessly trying to eat soup with chopsticks.

Eunjung looked at her with an extreme amount of concern.

Gilyeong almost puked at the feeling of worry in his gut.

Ahyeong was functioning on auto-pilot, her consciousness having taken a backseat as the only thing that moved her was sheer muscle memory.

She couldn't even remember how she had come back to her house, however, the stinging in her legs informed her of how she had deserted the shop and ran all the way back home, much to Driver Kwon's horror.

Her head felt empty.

Being in a comic? As a bully? That had to be the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, or read, about herself.

It did not make sense. She was quite literally a model student, with a record as clean as glass. Being reduced to the likes of a bully? Impossible.

And then the derealisation came in.

This probably wasn't real after all. Maybe it was just one big practical joke blown out of proportion.

Yeah, that was it, she concluded as she finally became aware of her surroundings, dropping the chopsticks in her hands with a confused look and picking up a spoon to continue eating her soup, unaware of the small breath of relief from across the table.

That weird paralysis thing hadn't happened since the other day anyway, so she was probably going to be okay.

TURN.

What a fucking lie, you're kidding—

The doors to the house banged open, harshly knocking against the walls and startling the occupants of the dining room.

Song Hwayoung came inside the house, immediately making Eunjung receive her in a hurry and assist her with taking off her coat and setting her a pair of slippers.

Ahyeong was panicking. Why now? The universe was being unnecessarily cruel. Her body felt like a rock, cemented into the ground. The air got colder, the lights felt different, brighter somehow, as if someone was shining a spotlight down on her family, as if a grim situation was about to ensue.

Ahyeong almost got up to greet her mother, but sat back down after seeing the subtle shake of Gilyeong's head, who hastily looked down at his empty plate after Hwayoung came to sit at the head of the table.

Her mother looked like she had been trying to bottle up her anger the whole day, and the cap was finally about to burst.

Ahyeong felt unsettled at the sudden change in demeanor. Her mother had never gotten this furious before, ever. She attempted to stand, but she was glued to her seat and could only watch as Hwayoung glared daggers at Gilyeong.

She threw a stack of papers in front of Gilyeong, who shrunk into his seat when he saw its contents.

"What is this?" Hwayoung inquired, trying her best to appear calm.

The young boy mumbled a reply in a voice so small that it was barely audible.

Hwayoung flared her nostrils, "Say it louder!"

Both siblings flinched at the volume. "My report card," the youngest said shakily.

Why was her mum flipping over a simple report card? It's not like grades mattered—

"Even I know that it's a fucking report card. What I want to know is why your grades dropped to C's and D's and why the hell you're failing in math?"

Ahyeong's eyes widened, either involuntarily or of her own free will, she didn't know. Hwayoung cursing at her brother and raging over his academic report? That was quite literally the opposite of how her mother was. Hwayoung was supposed to be the sweetest person she'd ever known, understanding and supportive through every endeavor.

For a moment she considered if her mother had been replaced by a clone of a crueler version of her. With the bullshit that was happening to her right now, the theory did not even feel that far-fetched.

At Gilyeong's silence, Hwayoung scoffed, "All of this was happening and you didn't even bother telling me? I was in a phone call with your friend's mother who told me her son had scored first place but when she mentioned how you weren't even in the top ten do you know how humiliated I felt?"

She stood up abruptly, throwing her chair back, which was immediately caught by Eunjung, and scowled at the boy, not a single trace of warmth in her eyes that her daughter was familiar with, "What an embarrassment to the Song name. At least your sister fares better than you."

With that, she stalked away, heels clicking against the marble floors as she retreated to her room.

TURN .

Ahyeong got up as soon as she could control her movements, rushing over to Gilyeong whose eyes had become red and puffy as he sniffled.

She pulled him in between her arms, and he shook uncontrollably, Eunjung watching the ordeal with downtrodden eyes, wishing she could help.

This was far beyond what she thought would happen. No, that woman could not have been their mother.

As she put her brother to sleep that night, she came to a solution.

Stepping into the elevator to reach Cloud9 Officetel's terrace the next day, her resolve strengthened.

This nightmare was ending, one way or the other.

Jugyeong was quite possibly living the worst nightmare she'd ever had.

The world was too cruel. Beauty was only on the inside, they said. What a horrible lie.

She had been humiliated beyond measure. All she tried to do was convey her honest feelings to quite possibly the only person who had ever been genuinely kind to her. She would've been fine if Wang Hyunbin had simply rejected her and decided to stay as friends. But for him and Semi to destroy her pride and self-worth like that? Because of how she looked?

She felt her eyes burning with warm tears before they cascaded down her cheeks, the cold wind at the top of the building harshly biting at her skin and rattling her bones.

She shivered.

Cold, it was too cold. What a day to die.

Jugyeong's hands hovered over her phone's screen as she stared at her mother's contact. Would her family even mourn her? Good riddance, they would probably think.

But she had to tell someone, and even if her mother was harsh with her words, she still loved her. She had to tell her the reason why she was about to jump off of a building.

Just as her finger leaned down to press the call button, the door to the rooftop opened, and Jugyeong jumped in shock, turning around to see who had come in.

She did a double-take.

Was God personally consenting to her taking her own life? Because she was pretty sure he had sent down an angel to escort her soul into heaven.

Her glasses had been abandoned on the bench she'd been sitting on from when she had been trying to wipe her tears, so she couldn't really see the person properly, but even with bad eyesight, the stranger looked almost ethereal.

They were dressed in a black dress and heels, as if they had gone to a funeral, or were planning to go to one.

They stopped upon seeing Jugyeong's disheveled self.

Was God finally being kind to her in her final moments?

Mind in a haze and not thinking straight, Jugyeong broke down yet again.

Ahyeong was startled at the girl crying in front of her. She didn't think there was going to be someone else up there other than herself.

When she looked closer at the girl who was sobbing uncontrollably in front of her, she noticed who it was, immediately taking a few steps back on instinct.

Moon Gayoung? Why was she in a school uniform— oh.

You've got to be kidding me.

What luck she had, walking right into the girl this world literally revolved around.

She felt something pulling away at her in the back of her mind, sending warning bells down her spine, saying she wasn't supposed to be there. But why?

Ahyeong's heart almost burst out of her ribcage when Jugyeong threw herself at her, clutching almost painfully at her waist and sobbing into her dress.

She froze at the sudden contact, arms awkwardly hovering over the girl's shoulders.

Jugyeong had probably not recognized her yet, because there was no way she was hugging her future tormentor just like that.

"Th-thank y-y-you for c-coming," the girl said between choked breaths, "F-for being- for being here in my—" she struggled to say the words, "—my final moments."

Ahyeong stilled at that.

By the time her words had registered, she already knew what was happening.

This was the scene from the drama, she remembered, when Jugyeong had tried to kill herself because of the incident at school.

How ironic. Ahyeong almost laughed at her situation, they were here for the same fate for almost the same reason. Both didn't like the world that they lived in.

But for the Song girl, this was a test, really. A theory she came up with in the dead of the night.

The sensation of falling, that knee-jerk reaction, and the feeling of finally waking up from your dream. That was what she was hoping for. She wasn't here to die, she was here to go back to living her own life.

But the girl who clung to her was dead set on ending things, and frankly, that was a dreadful thought.

Ahyeong had no intention of leaving her as she was, be this a fictional world or not, Im Jugyeong was a human being who deserved a lot more than she got.

"Were you going to jump?"

Jugyeong's thoughts came to a halt as the Angel asked a question, the oddly familiar lilt of her voice bringing a strange mix of foreboding and warmth in her gut.

Still shaking, she only nodded against her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because-" she sniffled, tightening her arms around them, "because everyone hates me," her voice faded at the end, and her wobbly knees gave in, making her sink into the hard floor and dragging the person along with her.

This time, the Angel wrapped her arms around her, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

"Jugyeong, things may seem horrible for you at the moment, and you have every right to be upset over what was said and done, but it is impossible to know answers to such questions when you're so overwhelmed."

The words cut through her haziness, her cries slowly stopping as what they said registered in Jugyeong's mind.

"You don't really want to die, do you?"

It felt weird, being told such things by a stranger.

Maybe deep down she had already known, but her despair had overtaken her senses and disregarded her common sense.

"Why were you really about to call your mother?"

Because she was hoping someone would stop her. To make sure someone really did care about her despite appearances.

The Angel patted her back, and slowly pulled away, only to firmly place their hands on Jugyeong's shoulders.

"Your family's waiting."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Maybe God was kinder than she thought.

It was getting dark now.

The cold evening air nipped at her skin as Ahyeong stood on the edge, heels digging into the concrete as she gazed down below.

What a hypocrite she was, telling all those things to Jugyeong.

She'd sent her home with a taxi after their ordeal, and Jugyeong had not even looked at her once through the whole thing.

She didn't know why.

The road was buzzing with activity, cars zooming past on asphalt, people walking home on the footpaths, vendors selling seasonal goods by the side.

It seemed to be a normal day.

She wondered how the rest of their day would go if her body suddenly flopped down there.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. All of this was too real.

She slapped herself, the stinging spreading through her numb skin and making her wince in pain.

What was she doing? Was she really about to jump off a building just to test a theory out?

What if it failed? The pain in her cheek would pale in comparison to what would happen should she fall.

And the people waiting for her back home, thinking she was off paying her respects to an old friend. Gilyeong and Eunjung would be destroyed.

Ahyeong stepped back. No, she couldn't do this. She wasn't planning on dying today. Or anytime soon really.

She'd just have to get used to living here—

TURN.

Song Ahyeong stepped closer to the edge of the building, awaiting her doom.

What the fuck!? She didn't want to die, shit, shit, shit—

The LED screen behind her lit up in hues of pink and purple, colorful shadows falling on her dress that did nothing against the frigid wind.

Jung Seyeon's face graced the billboard in the distance, an ode from the people to celebrate the day he was born, and an apology for being the reason he died.

One more step and she would fall. No, no, one more step and she'd fall—

Ahyeong leaned forward closing her eyes for the last time.

NO!

And so, she fell backward.

Wait, backward?

TURN.

Ahyeong barely registered the iron grip on her wrist before it was tugged hard, her stiletto losing its balance and twisting her foot at an unnatural angle.

She widened her eyes as her vision blurred, surroundings moving too fast, and braced herself for the impact on the rough concrete.

It never came.

Instead, she fell on the person who had taken the liberty of pulling her back, and subsequently saving her. Groaning, she raised her head, squinting against the bright light of the advertisement.

"What a relief," Suho breathed out.

The ColorBeauty commercial cast the glow of its neon colors over their faces, and as the faint melody of Seyeon's voice filled the silence in the air, Song Ahyeong knew that somehow, she had fucked up.

masterlist

#true beauty #cha eunwoo #hwang inyeop #moon gayoung #lee suho #han seojun #im jugyeong #kang sujin #extraordinary you #lee suho x reader #lee suho x oc #korean drama #kdrama fanfic #kdrama imagine #kdrama scenarios #webtoon

52 notes · View notes

yarbz · 4 years

Text

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

#na jaemin imagines #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #na jaemin scénarios #na jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct dream #nct2020 #kpop imagines #kpop scénarios #kpop fluff #kpop #nct smut #kpop smut

198 notes · View notes

simons-calling-the-127-squad · 4 years

Text

Missing Piece - Hendery

Credit to the original owners of the images.

GN Film Studies Major Reader X Film Studies Major/YouTuber Hendery

Half of a jewelry piece at birth

Warnings: cursing

Y/D/N = your dog's name

"We've literally been studying for ten minutes", you deadpanned.

"And?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You haven't even studied anything yet. You've just played with the cat."

"I need food to think. And I'll pay for us both."

"Deal", you said. Pushing the book to the side of the bed. Hendery did a little dance as you moved to put your shoes and jacket on. You couldn't help but laugh at him and walked towards him.

"Let's go!" He said as he pulled you out of the door and locked his dorm door. His arm went over your shoulder as you walked, it was a normal thing for him to do with all of his friends.

"So have started writing your script yet?" You asked, assuming that he hadn't even come close to starting.

"Contrary to popular belief, yes", he answered, a bit of pride could be heard in his voice.

"What's it about?"

"It's a comedy about three friends who don't wanna find their soulmates."

"Sounds interesting. Anything else?"

"Nah, just the basics for the characters. What about you?"

"Two friends who somehow don't notice they're mates."

"That sounds ridiculous. How can they not notice the matching jewelry?"

"Some people are blind to little details!"

"Hmm sure", he said, obviously not convinced. The two of you let the silence take over as you walked to the pizza place of Hendery's choice. Upon arrival, he opened the door for you and waved to the workers as the two of you sat down.

"So this is the place you talk about all of the time?" You asked, slipping the jacket off of your shoulders and onto the seat next to you.

He began to rapidly nod and talk about how amazing the entire menu was.

"Hey Hendery, I was wondering when you'd be in this week", a male said as he walked over to the two of you.

"Blame them," he pointed to you. "They keep making me study when I could be eating."

"You're the one who asked me to help you study!"

"I didn't think you would be so strict with me!"

The waiter laughed at the banter between the two of you and said, "I can't believe it's taken you so long to bring your soulmate here." The two of you instantly paused and looked at him. Confusion written on your faces. The waiter looked just as confused when he saw your reactions.

"Wait did you guys not know? How did you guys not see the matching rings?" Your eyes moved to Hendery's hand where a ring that was quite similar to your own sat. His was a sun, yours a moon, but the two were obviously a pair.

"How did we not notice?" You asked, mainly to yourself.

"That explains why everyone always thought we were dating…" Hendery mumbled, causing the waiter to die of laughter.

"This is comedy gold", he mumbled as he walked towards the kitchen to give the two of you time to talk together.

"Dang it. This means you're right."

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

"That and this is an interesting first date."

"Nothing else? Like being surprised that we're mates?"

"No, in all honesty, it makes a lot of sense. We get along quite well and I've always thought you were cute."

"Okay well if we're just spilling everything, I always used to get disappointed when I would look at you and think of how you weren't my soulmate."

"Well good thing I am then. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of…"

"Well, I have something on mind. Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah…"

"Fantastic", he said and moved to sit next to you to be closer. One hand moved to your face and the other to your neck as he leaned in. You could feel his lips pull into a smile as they landed on yours. Soon after he pulled away, allowing you to see his smile.

"I'm so freaking glad you're my soulmate", he told you before leaning back in.

---

It was Monday, at 5 pm. You and Hendery had just arrived at class and sat down next to your friends, telling them the news. They each turned to each other and started laughing.

"You guys knew didn't you?" You asked.

"Yeah. We had a bet going to see how long it would take you guys to figure it out", Ten told you as he held his hand out to Y/B/F who rolled their eyes but put a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.

"We're the epitome of stupidity", You said as you looked back at Hendery, who nodded in agreement. The rest of you continued to talk while you waited for class to begin, which mainly revolved around the stupidity of you and your mate.

---

"Hey babe, can you come in here?" Hendery called for you. You already knew why it was to introduce your relationship to his subscribers. You walked into his room and sat down next to him on his bed as Hendery told the viewers you were joining the video today. You had been in numerous videos of Hendery's, to the point where the fans were disappointed when you weren't there.

"So yet again we have Y/N joining today. You guys know them and love them. So as you guys can tell by the title, we have another hilarious story for you. Y/N you wanna start?" He asked as he looked over at you.

"Sure. So Hendery's dumbass asked me to help him study. 10 minutes into it, he wants pizza. So of course Hendery said the most magical words ever, 'I'll pay'. So obviously I join him for pizza, and what happens when we get there?" You asked, allowing Hendery to take over.

"So we sit down, and a few minutes later the waiter comes over and we're talking cause I'm a regular there and I know all of the workers pretty well. The waiter says 'glad to finally meet your soulmate'. And we both just stared at him. Thinking 'what the hell is this dude talking about?'. So he points out our rings and was like 'You guys didn't know?'. And that's how we realized, we're soulmates."

"Yeah, we felt and still feel stupid as hell."

"And the funniest part is, our friends knew. In fact, they had a bet going to see how long it would take us to figure out", Hendery laughed.

"Ten won the bet", you informed the camera.

"Yeah, the bastard got twenty bucks out of it. But you know I got the best prize, I get Y/N as my soulmate sooo…" You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and immediately covered them. Hendery attempted to pull them away and once he did he pressed a kiss to each of them.

"I love you", he whispered to you.

"I love you too", you whispered back.

---

"So guys can you guess what today is?" Hendery asked the camera. "If you can't, don't worry, I'll tell you. It's mine and Y/N's anniversary. We have been dating for five years now, we've known each other for, like seven years now. So I've decided it's time I finally propose", He said pulling a box out of his jacket pocket and holding it up to the camera as he opened it. "I'm hoping this goes smoothly and that they are really to take this step with me. So I'm not gonna show you guys the actual proposal, but I am gonna show you their reaction afterward. So I'll be back soon. Well for you guys it'll be soon", he paused the camera and slipped the box back in his pocket before moving into the living room. He was waiting for you to get back from the studio to start making dinner for the two of you. His plans were interrupted by the dog pawing at his leg. He could help but to smile and bend down and scratch his ears, causing the dog's tail to wag aggressively.

"You better not mess this up tonight", he told the dog. Y/D/N just continued to wag his tail before laying down at his feet, only to jump up the moment you open the door.

"Hey Y/D/N", you said as you moved to ruffle his fur. "Hey babe", you greeted Hendery, giving him a kiss before sitting down next to him.

"So I was thinking pizza for dinner", he told you. You nodded in response, it had become a tradition to have pizza on your anniversary.

"As expected."

"And you love it", he told you as he went to the kitchen to start dinner. As the timer was getting close to the end Hendery whistled for Y/D/N.

"Good boy", he told him, kneeling in front of him and reaching into his pocket. He pulled the box out and tied it to the collar. "Now stay in here buddy", he ordered, and thankfully he listened. Just as Hendery stood up, the timer went off. He pulled it out and cut it before putting it on the plates and going back to the living room where you waited.

"It looks great!" You exclaimed. Kissing his cheek before taking your plate. It didn't take long for the two of you to finish and Hendery decided it was time to ask.

"Hey Y/D/N, come here boy", he called out to the dog, who instantly responded. "Hey take a look at what's on his collar", he told you. Your eyes moved from the tv to Y/D/N and they widened. You could hear Hendery chuckle as motioned for you to take the box. You did, your eyes widened even more at the ring itself. It was exactly what you wished for, you looked at Hendery who had already moved to the ground.

"We definitely had an interesting start, how many people can say they didn't even realize their soulmate was right beside them for two years. While it may not have been the smartest thing we've ever done, I'm kinda glad in a way that we didn't know. It made us have a friendship beforehand, and we knew our attraction was genuine, it's not just that we're soulmates. And these years together have been so amazing, and I wanna spend the rest of them together. Will you, Y/N, marry me?"

"Yes!" You whispered as the tears flooded your eyes. He helped you put the ring on and to wipe the tears away.

"Would it be okay to get the camera he asked?" You nodded and he pressed a kiss to your lips before running into the bedroom and grabbing it. He recorded the ring and the two of you talking for a few minutes before shutting it off. This was definitely gonna be one of your favorite videos.

-🃏

#wayv imagines #wayv x reader #nct #wayv #wayv hendery #nct au #nct imagines #Hendery #hendery imagines #wayv hendery imagines

26 notes · View notes

sendrickbecs · 4 years

Text

Unspoken Feelings (1/8)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259739

It's unspoken. But it's there. It's always been there, ever since they first met eyes at the activities fair two years back. The undeniable connection between Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale sprung from a small glance shared between the two on Beca's first day on campus to singing in the shower together, (both naked – and wet), and ever since then the connection hasn't stopped growing. It's undeniable, yet it's still denied by the two seniors. Everyone else can see it – hell, even the girl's parents notice the lingering touches and the longing stares – but they refuse to admit it.

Because admitting it would mean talking about it. Talking about feelings has never been something that Beca has been comfortable with. Growing up in the Mitchell household was tough, it was continuous arguments and unspoken apologies, it was having emotions but not allowing yourself to feel them. Beca's parents never talked about their feelings, unless it was their opinions on a particular Tv show or whether or not Beca was allowed to get a dog, (She was not). So, her parents lack of communication meant Beca grew up in a home (it was more of a house) where she was taught that expressing your feelings was a sign of weakness.

Beca doesn't want to be seen as weak so she builds rather high walls around herself and hides her true emotions from everyone, but also herself. She doesn't allow herself to feel.

Chloe, on the other hand could talk for days about literally anything to literally anyone, but when it comes to the girl's feelings about her best friend, she can't express a thing. It's like her mind is too full to process a single thought. And sometimes the redhead thinks that's how Beca makes her feel – full – content – happy. But she doesn't allow herself to actually feel those things. Because feeling would mean admitting and admitting would mean talking – something neither of the girl's are good at.

It took Beca weeks to admit that she had an internship at a recording studio because she's 'weird about that stuff' so admitting that she felt something more for the redhead than just friendship would definitely take some time.

. . .

As the brunette glances up at her best friend she catches her eye and they share a smile, one that grows on each of their faces when they notice the other isn't looking away. Normally that's their thing – Beca looks at Chloe, admires her and cherishes her beauty but as soon as Chloe looks up, Beca glances down, acting as if she wasn't just staring at her best friend. Chloe does it too, but she somehow manages to be a little more subtle than the brunette by faking an interest in something across the room or pretending to examine the state of her nails.

They finally tear their eyes from each other, because they have to at some point, although it's clear that neither girl would object to only looking at each other for the rest of their lives.

Their gazes land on the rest of their friends; The Bellas, who are looking up at them with slightly bored expressions. They have been in the auditorium for nearly an hour yet not a single girl has sung a word, much to their amusement – especially Emily, the youngest of the group. She seems to be even more enthusiastic about singing than Chloe if that's even possible. Chloe loves to sing, she thrives off of it, but the young Bella cannot go an hour without singing, which is why she looks about ready to explode.

"Does everyone remember the choreography?" Chloe asks, giving the group one of her famous and much loved (especially by Beca) Chloe Beale smiles.

Instead of a collection of mumbled responses, the girl is met with a chorus of questions and suggestions, one following after the other from nearly all of the girls.

Fat Amy is the first to respond, completely ignoring Chloe's question, "Can we get a snack first?" It makes Chloe roll her eyes slightly because the question is so typical of Amy, she's always finding time throughout rehearsal to sneak over to her bag and munch on a few tortilla chips, or make a trip to the vending machine just outside the auditorium only to return with fistfuls of snack sized chocolate bars.

Chloe is about to tell Amy that there's only fifteen minutes left of rehearsal so she can wait until it's over, but then another Bella pipes in.

"When are we going to sing today?" Emily asks, her eyes shining with desperation, the urge to sing growing stronger with each passing minute. The youngest Bella is adored by everyone – Amy has mixed opinions – but there are times where Chloe wants nothing more than for her to crawl under a rock and die. They will sing when they have perfected the choreography. And Emily, with her freakishly long giraffe legs is very clumsy – her moves are quite far from, as the former captain would say, 'two steps away from being almost fine' so the girl had a lot of improvements to make before she even thought about warming her voice up to sing.

"You're just as bad as Aubrey with the cardio." Cynthia Rose huffs, which causes Chloe to scrunch her nose up in frustration. She is not very good at handling negative criticism and the Bellas seem to very persistent in handing it out today.

Chloe likes to think that she's a better a capella captain than her blonde best friend because she had a lot of control issues to overcome and she could also be kind of a bitch to the rest of the group if they weren't doing it how she wanted it done. The fact that Beca was quite often on the receiving end of Aubrey's bitchy remarks always riled her anger. Ever since she met the girl and walked into her shower she felt the need to protect the small brunette, not that she needed protecting, Beca had quite the punch on her and her badass exterior was enough of a shield, but Chloe still wanted to have her back when people looked at Beca the wrong way or made a comment about her style – something Aubrey did an awful lot in her first few months of being Captain.

"Aubrey's cardio wasn't that bad." Stacie retorts with a suggestive smirk, which breaks Chloe from her downward spiral.

The other co-captain's head snaps up at the words. 'Only because you were getting special treatment from the bitchy blonde' Beca thinks, smirking to herself which makes Chloe turn to look at her with a knowing smile. It's like sometimes the two girls share the same thought process.

Lily mumbles something that is missed by everyone, but it was definitely something about a dead body, possibly multiple.

Chloe loves the Bellas, they're her family, but sometimes she wants to tell them to 'shut the hell up' and go all Posen on their asses by making them run laps around the auditorium just to prove to them that she isn't as bad as the former captain of The Barden Bellas. But when she catches a glimpse of the scowl a few metres away from her, she's reminded that she is the mellower one of the two co-captains.

"Two-minute break." She announces, which receives a few cheers and a sigh of relief from the Asian Jesus of the group. "How's it going?" Chloe questions once she's walked around the table and is now leaning behind Beca, peering at her laptop screen where Beca's music technology is displayed.

"Do they realise how hard it is to work on the set whilst they're complaining about everything?" The girl with the headphones around her neck lets out a groan.

Chloe laughs, the sound instantly bringing a smile to Beca's lips. "Your complaining is just as bad." Chloe mentions, "I was trying to work on some new dance moves last night and you were whining the entire time because I was distracting you."

"The dance moves were distracting." Beca admits as she lifts her headphones from around her neck and places them on the table in front of her, giving the redhead her undivided attention.

The older girl's lips quirk up into a smirk, "Well, if you were watching me for long enough for it to distract you then you'll know them well enough to demonstrate them to everyone." She says and stands up straighter, reaching her hand out towards Beca. "Come on, Bec."

There is a moment of hesitation from Beca as she assesses her options, she can either latch on to Chloe's hand and let the girl guide her to the middle of the auditorium where they rehearse the dance moves together. Or, she can say no, and be the cause of Chloe's upset once again. Beca decides that she isn't opposed to dancing with the redhead, especially because quite a few of the moves are pretty sexual, which means she has to dance against her.

It gives her an excuse to touch the other girl without it having to mean anything, so Beca accepts the hand and jumps up from the chair.

Before walking away with Chloe, the brunette spins around to her laptop and gets up the song that she knows Chloe was practicing the dance moves to the day before in the living room of the Bellas house.

All of the other Bellas are watching them more closely now, but Beca doesn't care. She's focusing on how her hand feels in Chloe's, just how right it feels. When they reach the centre of the room their hands part, only for a few seconds before Chloe brings her hand up to Beca's waist.

Beca is too fixated on the way Chloe's hand slips onto her waist, edging the material of her tank top upwards and resting her hand on the brunette's bare skin. It lightly tingles under Chloe's touch as she runs her thumb over her hipbone. The younger girl's breath hitches in her throat and she's forced to swallow, attempting to fix her breathing pattern.

Why the hell is she so worked up by this? Chloe is her best friend – nothing more.

"Beca." Her name roles off Chloe's tongue, snapping her out of her thoughts. She immediately looks up and her orbs lock onto those bright blue beauties she likes so much. Beca can barely process a single thought, Chloe's touch possessing her in a way that's so familiar – she has been under the redhead's control so many times but each time her mind fogs up like it's the first time she's ever been touched by the girl. Chloe clears her throat, catching Beca's attention once again, "Your hand."

Beca swallows but the lump in her throat doesn't go away, so she coughs instead. "What?" She mumbles once she's managed to clear her throat. She lowers her eyes, not capable of holding the contact knowing how intense the redhead's gaze can affect her.

"Put your hand on my shoulder." Chloe instructs, her tone is soft, showing Beca that she isn't demanding her, but the younger girl still does what she's told, unable to say no to her co-captain.

Once their hands are in the right places on each other's bodies, Chloe directs the dance move, taking control of the movement, rocking hers and Beca's bodies back and forth, creating friction between their bodies.

"Holy shit." Is all Beca can say when the movement comes to a stop.

"That was hot." Stacie comments, her eyes wide in thought.

Even though Chloe would never admit it out loud, she thinks it was hot too, having Beca touch her like that stirred something deep inside her, something she only wishes to explore more often. She just wants Beca's hands to return to her body, to relight the fire that's slowly flickering away since her hands were removed only moments ago. It's no secret that both girls' are blushing furiously, almost matching the colour of Chloe's long locks.

"I think I need a cold shower." Stacie mumbles, earning a glare from the shorter brunette.

Beca is trying to remain calm but the dance she's just done is replaying on a continuous loop in her head and the comments from Stacie are really not helping the matter. Especially the mention of a shower – that only causes Beca's mind to wander back to freshman year when Chloe entered her shower unannounced, how they sang titanium and harmonised so perfectly together. The thought of Chloe's naked body is making Beca's cheeks heat up all over again.

The other co-captain is having similar thoughts as she reminisces the particular shower that started it all. It was the first time she had heard the small, standoffish 'alt' girl sing, and Chloe loved that she was the first person Beca opened up to. She never sang in front of anyone – Beca had admitted that two weeks after joining the Bellas, but Beca was naked, wet and singing with her – for her.

"Stacie, shut up." Beca scoffs, her jaw clenching.

Chloe giggles and leans down to place a chaste kiss to Beca's cheek which makes the brunette's blushing intensify, she groans lightly at the contact even though inside it's causing heart to beat a little faster and adrenaline to pulse through her veins.

"Becs, you're so flustered." She whispers with a smile. The brunette groans once again, making everyone laugh but Chloe's giggle is all she can hear.

It's all too much for Beca – the touching, teasing, giggling, intensifying her hidden emotions. But what ultimately finished her off was the kiss to the check. Beca melted as soon as Chloe's lips and nose came in contact with her cheek.

"Okay, find your partners." Chloe calls and Beca is so thankful the attention has shifted from her.

Instead of joining in with her partner, Beca heads back over to her allocated table where her laptop and mixing equipment are already spread out. She takes her seat and quickly shoves her headphones on over her ears, blocking out the sound of the girls giggling as stitches plays through the speakers around the room. She doesn't want to hear that song, because if she listens to the lyrics she'll think of a certain redhead, which will lead her gaze to drift over to where she knows she's running through the choreography. Beca doesn't want to think about Chloe because then she'll think about the tight leggings and sports bra she's wearing and once that is drilling through her mind, she will want the real thing. She won't be able to keep her eyes away from the redhead across the room.

If she stares at Chloe in tight gym clothes whilst she's dancing to very sexual routines, then she'll be forced to admit – forced to acknowledge those feelings that she's buried so deep beneath the surface. So Beca fixes her gaze on a spot on her laptop screen, not allowing herself to drift her eyes upwards.

Chloe has always loved performing. The rush of adrenaline she receives from performing with the Bellas grows each time. The bigger the performance, the bigger the audience, meaning the bigger the adrenaline rush.

But she loves performing for people more than anything – for one person in particular – Chloe loves performing for Beca.

Dancing with Beca was hot – so fucking hot – and she loved how exhilarating it felt to allow her hands to explore the younger girl's body with so much passion and longing.

It was as if the connection between the two of them was finally being brought into the light, they were slowly beginning to accept it and Chloe truly thought this was Beca's way of communicating with her, telling her that she feels it too.

So Chloe decides to perform for Beca. She shakes her ass a little harder and runs her hands down her body for longer than usual (taking a page out of Stacie's book). Her smile present on her face throughout the entire routine and her excitement growing as the song was coming to a close.

Chloe looks up one final time with pure determination lighting up her face, she's smiling – her famous Chloe Beale smile that she knows Beca has always found irresistible. She's so sure, she's never been so sure about anything in her life. This is it. This is the moment where she's going to finally express everything she's kept bottled up for the past two years. She's going to tell Beca how she feels once and for all.

But when she looks up and her favourite pair of eyes don't meet her gaze, her stomach flips – not in the loving someone so much that their smile makes my heart flutter and butterflies erupt in my stomach kind of way but in the uneasy kind of feeling because she's hit with the realisation that Beca hasn't been watching at all.

She's been performing for Beca, building up the routine until she's finally ready to reveal her grand gesture. Only to find out that Beca wasn't watching her.

Beca wasn't watching her perform.

Her smile drops from her face and it feels like she's been slapped – slapped so far into reality that she finally realises that everything she thought she had with her best friend has been a figment of her imagination. She wanted Beca to look at her, to watch her – to love her – so badly that she's seeing what she wants to see. She thought Beca had returned those feelings. She was so sure. But now she knows – understands – that none of that had been real.

She just saw – felt – what she wanted to be true.

"Okay, that's it. Well done guys." Chloe says, clapping with a slight smile on her face when she calls the end of rehearsals. The smile was nothing more than fake – but she's going to have to get used to fake feelings so why not start now? She has to admit, she's proud of the Bellas and how far they've come. Aubrey appointing Beca as the captain is one of the best things she could have done, and Beca requesting Chloe to take the role as co-captain is also pretty great. Except for when Beca is in one of her 'distant and cold' moods and she won't let Chloe comfort her. Every time she gets pushed away by the brunette it breaks her heart a little. But she doesn't push her and she certainly doesn't pry so Chloe allows Beca to feel – or not feel – however she wants without questioning it.

"Hey, Chlo." Beca calls from where she's loading her laptop and mixing equipment into her laptop bag. Her co-captain spins on her heels and approaches her at the table. She's been friends with Beca long enough to know how Beca puts up her walls when she wants to hide her emotions, so if Beca can do it, she can too.

"What's up, Becs?" The redhead asks sweetly, twiddling her thumb ring whilst she waits for Beca to finish packing up her equipment.

"I won't be back at the house till later." The brunette says, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder and standing up from the chair she's occupied for the majority of rehearsal.

It's in Chloe's nature to be curious, especially when it comes to Beca, she wants to know everything about her – in a totally not possessive/psychotic way of course. She just wants to be the one person in Beca's life that knows her better than anyone else. She just wants Beca. And wants Beca to want her back just the same.

So that's why Chloe catches herself hesitating, she wants to ask why Beca has been so distant lately, why she's not returning her missed phone calls or why she's missed the last three Bellas movie nights. Chloe's missed having Beca next to her on the couch, where the brunette's feet would slowly edge towards Chloe's lap and the night would end with the two girls' bodies pressed closer together than when the movie started.

But deep down she knows it's this god forsaken unspoken connection the two shares. Beca is being distant because that's all she knows, and Chloe knows she should prod Beca until she finally stops running away, forcing her to talk. However, just knowing how much that would hurt them both stops Chloe's thoughts from adapting into real scenarios.

Not talking is just...safer.

It's safer because this way neither girl is hurting the other, but Chloe is still hurting. She's hurting so fucking much because Beca won't even look at her.

"Okay," Chloe retorts, her lips quirking upwards into a smile. Beca nods, not even bothering to look up at the redhead, which sends a punch to her gut.

It's too painful for Chloe to watch the younger girl walk away from her once more so she spins on her heels and exits the auditorium first, not waiting for Beca so the two of them can walk across campus together – another one of their unspoken understandings which happens after every single Bellas rehearsal.

- - - -

Also on wattpad: @writteninbechloe

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #anna kendrick #brittany snow #fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfiction

69 notes · View notes

whitleyschn33 · 4 years

Note

Hey, I don't mean to bother you again, but if you're still feeling up to it, I'd still like to see your opinions on each member of the Schnee family. No pressure if you don't want to do it though; I still appreciate seeing whatever you do post.

Hey!

You’re not bothering me, trust me. My motivation for... well, everything, but this blog in particular fluctuates pretty wildly, and that means that asks can sit in my inbox for months. The world going to hell hasn’t helped much. Also, every single time I’ve tried to write this, I’ve ended losing chunks of it cause I was too dumb to just type this in a word doc and copy-paste, so that’s been frustrating, to say the least.

Now that I’ve gotten smarter, though, let’s get into the Schnees!

Jacques

I have mixed feelings about how he was (potentially) written out of the show (and I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot in this reply). I said in this post awhile back that I didn’t want Jacques to become an agent of Salem because something like that would most likely become the focal point of his asshole-ness and shove everything else to the side. That feeling holds true, but not really in the way I had been expecting.

How he ended up benefiting Salem, I’m perfectly good with. Him not knowing about Salem or Watts’ motives for making the deal with him, making the deal because it of how it would benefit him and not to serve Salem/kill people - that I’m good with. He was an unknowing pawn Watts/Salem manipulated around the board, but not a mustache-twirling villain all on board with working with the genocidal maniac/serving on her council of villains, and that’s all I really wanted - for him to not be a knowing member of Salem’s board of evil. Being part of a group that desires global destruction just doesn’t fit his motives – can’t make money off people if they’re all dead.

However, the fact that that’s why he was arrested - that his downfall was due to and focused solely on being involved in a Salem plot that just popped up this volume rather than anything to do with his treatment of the Schnees or the Faunus - that kinda rankles. This goes back to the ask I answered a while back - the focus on all the new plots and characters that meant a lot of the old stuff that’s been built up was shoved aside. Jacques being taken down feels like it should have been this huge emotional climax, tensions running high with all of the Schnees there and a huge release of all of those tensions as Jacques gets taken down for the crimes that we as the audiences most revile him for – his treatment of the Schnees. Instead it was… none of that. Jacques is arrested by Weiss for his aid to Watts… and she promptly cracks a joke about it to kill the tension. Winter is able to get in a decent snap at him, but that’s it from her. The entirety of Jacques’ arrest is focused on the heating crisis. He’s dragged off, and only Willow and Whitley get to witness and react to it, and even that’s just a look from Willow and Whitley running off looking completely done with everything – they don’t even react with each other. There’s nothing in Jacques’ downfall about his abuse to his wife and children or even the Faunus, it’s all the election and Watts – plot points that don’t hold nearly as much weight to the audience as ones that have been set up for years.

So, TLDR for Jacques: I actually hope this isn’t the last we see of him, because that would be a disappointing way to end the Schnee’s arc as a family. At the very least, I hope we get to see him talked about between Winter, Willow, and Whitley if/when they actually get to talk to each other.

Willow

Mixed Feelings: Round Two.

Her design? Love it. Her conversation with Weiss? Gold. Willow as a character? A bit more involved than I would’ve thought from how very non-existent she’s been up until now and implied to have been in Weiss’s life, but I can roll with her being a bit more aware than I would’ve gone with. Willow’s role in this volume? Ehhhhhhhh….

I hate that she literally just has a camera hidden in Jacques’ office and recorded the entire thing. It seems like such a cheap way of Weiss getting the information she needed, and comes out of nowhere after there was already a way for her to get the information set up in Whitley. Seriously – we already had Whitley established as having seen Watts, seen Jacques’ reaction to him, look suspicious at Watts, and hear at least the man’s first name. Whitley absolutely had the information Weiss needed – so why the hell pull “Willow actually has cameras set up everywhere” out of thin air? And actually – wouldn’t Jacques have his office swept for cameras and bugs on the regular? You know, like the head of an extremely powerful organization and high-profile target of at least one major terrorist group probably would? To prevent something like this exact situation from happening? I just find it hard to believe that she could’ve set them up for long without being found, and setting them up just before something important to the plot happened in that room is just very convenient.

And like, there’s actually no reason that it needed to be that way. Willow and Weiss could have had the same conversation, just swap out the lines about the cameras with “I don’t know, but I know who would – your brother”, and you can even have Weiss still say that he wants nothing to do with her and Willow agree with her “you left him here with us” line, prompting Weiss to seek him out to get the information she needs and maybe even have a heart-to-heart with him. Whitley wouldn’t even have to give up the information in that conversation – he could be incredibly stubborn about it and unwilling to help until Weiss is called into a meeting about the heating crisis, which Whitley would absolutely follow into to listen whether he’s invited or not, and hearing what’s going done, decide to step up and come clean, realizing if he doesn’t, thousands of people will die. I can actually picture it in my head, and it would be so much better than just “Oh, yeah, I got cameras that recorded the entire nefarious conversation.”

And I’ve spent this entire section not really talking about Willow. Uhh… again, I really like her design. I like that she’s wearing purple, a color no other Schnee wears (except… Whitley with that wine… hmmm) – a mixture of red and blue, her freedom being drowned in something else until it’s completely tainted. Her voice is good, and for the most part, I really do like her conversation with Weiss. I also love that she finally points out what me and other Whitley fans have been screaming for ages – that you can’t expect someone that you basically abandoned (in his eyes) to look favorably on you, and I like that she acknowledges her own role in that, that she’s been a poor parent as well, and actively a detriment to Whitley.

TLDR, I like Willow, I just hate the damn cameras that seem to only exist for this plot point (since if they existed before, shouldn’t Weiss being hit be what they were meant to capture?).

Winter

Best girl, hands down. Not kidding, Winter basically carried this volume for me – rational, yet having very human reactions to things while recognizing that the emotional response isn’t necessarily the right one, the star of a badass fight with Cinder in which her Aura breaks but she still goes on fighting and holding her own against a damn Maiden, an awesome new outfit, wonderful conversations with Penny and just a very interesting relationship with her overall, actually gets to fight back against Jacques to his face – is there any point where this woman doesn’t exceed all my expectations?

I wasn’t a huge Winter fan before this volume, but I’ve successfully been converted. Second favorite Schnee for sure.

Weiss

On thin ice. Still my favorite of the RWBY crew, but considering how much of a nose dive the other three (in particular Ruby) took in this volume, that’s not saying a lot. A lot of what irks me with Weiss are… little moments. Implying that Winter shouldn’t trust Ironwood because he “could” be keeping secrets when she’s the one lying while Ironwood has been nothing but honest, the implication that Winter isn’t capable of making her own choices in regards to the military and the Maiden and that Ironwood must have been grooming her (I really hate this implication, both for trying to tear Ironwood down and for trying to rob Winter of her own agency – like, joining the military was her choice, her escape from Jacques, and you want to turn that into some kind of long game manipulation on Ironwood’s part? You want to prove Jacques of all people right in that he “stole” Winter, rather than Winter making her own choices and Ironwood recognizing her abilities and offering her the Maiden’s powers? Really?), trying to brush aside Ironwood’s concerns about just how much RWBY has done behind his back, calling Mantle “her home” when it’s never been that in front of Marrow who is almost certainly from Mantle – just, a lot of little things that I really dislike, not to mention that this is probably the worst design she’s had. But there hasn’t been anything that’s just blatantly ruined her for me, and she remains the most interesting and well executed character of RWBY for me.

TLDR, a lot of bratty moments that push me away from her, but still holds promise.

Whitley

My poor boy! He finally got more screentime and some of our headcanons comfirmed, but made the butt of a joke that could’ve easily been replaced with character development and underutilized so much. I’d say mixed feelings, but no – love his character, hate how he was used would probably be the best summary. Of course, I’m very much biased, but let’s not let something like that stop me.

More screentime! And letting him talk to someone other than Weiss! His banter with Ironwood was good, seeing his reactions to Jacques, how afraid and timid he was, was heartbreaking, and even if it didn’t go anywhere, his suspicion of Watts was nice to see. It’s always sweet to see headcanons confirmed too – the painting of him playing the piano was nice, and even if I’d have rather had it come out of his own mouth, Willow’s confirmation of him feeling abandoned by Weiss was such a satisfying thing to hear.

On the other hand, I absolutely hate the wine prank. It was way too drawn out and petty – seeing so much joy on JNR’s face while setting it up over the course of a whole minute and using an stack of food half his size to toss onto him – it was way too over the top. If they had to go for the food thing, having Oscar (or someone else, but Oscar is the one without a huntsman license, so he’s more believably clumsy) just pretend to trip with a regular plate and get it on his shirt would’ve been just fine, and we could’ve gotten a nice interaction between Whitley and someone new and get some character development. But nope. We got to have RBYJNR take way too much glee in dumping a mountain of food on a boy they’ve never met before for… talking to his sister and unwittingly getting in their way. It just puts a bad taste in my mouth.

And of course, what I talked about in Willow’s section, the set up of him seeing Watts going absolutely nowhere. Seriously – you set up the perfect opportunity, and then took an out-of-nowhere cop out. It feels like such a squandered set-up, and really disappoints me.

At least we actually got him reacting to Jacques, and it was given an appropriate emotion and fitting cinematography. I love the shot of Whitley sitting all alone on the stairs, watching the only person that actually gives him attention being dragged away without explanation, and seeing the weariness and sadness in his expression as he looks up – I love it, I love it so much. The last bit of hope that they may actually treat my boy right in the end…

TLDR: My boy!

And there you have it! Months late, my thoughts on the Schnee after the most recent volume! How will these change after volume 8? Hopefully for the better, but we’ll have to wait and see!

Thank you for the ask, and once again, sorry for the wait. I may try and take a few more hits at my inbox, but that’ll have to wait for tomorrow, since I’ve got work in the morning.

Have a good night, and stay safe!

#rwby #weiss schnee #winter schnee #whitley schnee #willow schnee #jacques schnee #rwby7 #ask reply

53 notes · View notes

madphantom · 5 years

Text

The Sound of Life: Chapter 2

They were told that Winslow was in operating room 3 and searched for it. Phoenix soon became very sleepy, but she was determined to stay awake. After a while Harold almost had to carry her.

"I suggest we sit down and wait," Archie said.

"Yeah," Jeffrey agreed when suddenly the door to the room opened.

A doctor walked out and Phoenix rushed over to him. "How is he?"

"We're working on him," the doctor said. "Uhm, by the way, Miss, do...do you know, by any chance, what his name is?"

"Winslow Leach," she mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"Winslow Leach." She looked him in the eyes.

He frowned. "But...hold on, sorry, but... Winslow Leach? The composer? Didn't he die?"

"Yeah, I thought so too," Phoenix sighed. "Listen, Doc, I've had a rough week and an even rougher night and I am so tired..."

"Alright, alright. You can sit down here on the bench. A nurse will come to you when he wakes up."

She nodded sleepily. "Uh-huh."

The Fruits and the singer sat down on the bench. Phoenix fell asleep almost immediately. Archie disappeared into the cafeteria and reappeared with a bag of crackers that the Fruits shared.

"Thanks Doc," Harold said when he noticed that Phoenix was already half asleep on his shoulder. "Come on, Goldfish, time to go to bed."

"So, what are we gonna do now?", Harold asked. "Swan's dead. Not that I liked the guy. But he filled up our pockets. And we're not even remotely close to being talented enough to write our own songs."

Archie laughed. "Yup. Thinking about it... we're just a bunch of losers Swan made popular."

"Yeah," Jeffrey agreed.

"Any jobs you guys had before this apeshit pop star business?", Archie asked the others.

Harold nodded slowly. "I was going to work in a supermarket. But the boss hated me. I don't think he'll take me back."

"Nope for me," Jeffrey admitted. "I failed school as thoroughly as possible."

"Really? I thought you'd be the teacher type."

Jeffrey laughed. "Good joke."

"So, in conclusion, we're just three dudes who lost their job," Archie concluded.

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a while.

"T'was nice though," Harold suddenly said. "Being in one band, you know. Going on tour together. Seeing our photos in the news. All that. Not because of the fame, just...you know, I like you guys. You're my best friends. My best and only friends."

"Honestly," Archie agreed. "I hate to be sentimental, but it was amazing. You guys were so much fun. I loved being one of the Juicy Fruits. You guys rock."

"Absolutely. All that touring together, the jetlags, the shows, getting yelled at by Philbin...it was such a great time and now... it's just over."

"Just over. All the illusions are gone. What's left are just three guys sitting in a hospital with a sleeping chick on their laps that isn't even their girlfriend."

"Strange place for the story to end, isn't it?"

"Strange place."

"I'm gonna miss it."

"Me too."

Finally the door opened and a nurse walked out.

Harold gently tapped Phoenix. "Hey. Hey. Phin'. The nurse is here."

Phoenix jumped up. "How is he?"

"He's awake now," the nurse said.

"Can I see him?", Phoenix asked. "Please!"

"Yes. He asked to see you. But-" The nurse handed her a noteblog and pen. "-we had to take off the device he used to speak. He can't wear it until the wound has healed."

"Okay. Thanks." Phoenix hastily rushed into the room.

Winslow was lying on the bed. Machines were buzzing around him and a beeping sound told Phoenix how rapid his heartbeat was.

"Winslow," she whispered.

A wince escaped his throat. It was obvious that he was trying to speak.

"The doctors said that you can't wear the voice box until your wound has healed," Phoenix explained. She handed him noteblog and pen and sat down at the edge of the bed. "How are you?"

He gave her a weak smile.

"Okay I guess" he wrote down.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just a little. They filled me up with painkillers."

"Good. I mean - good that it doesn't hurt that much." Phoenix smiled helplessly. Winslow laughed a little.

"You gotta explain a lot to me," Phoenix said.

"I guess I do." Winslow sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything. From the beginning. Why you came to New York. What Swan did. How you survived." Phoenix looked him in the eye. "Everything."

"Well..." Winslow started scribbling. After five minutes he gave Phoenix the first piece of paper and she started reading.

Suddenly she dropped the paper in shock.

"Swan had your teeth pulled out?!"

Winslow nodded.

"Why would he do that?!"

Winslow shrugged his shoulders and wrote something down. "Humiliation I guess."

"That's horrible!" She hesitated. "Can... can you show me?"

He nodded slowly and opened his mouth. Two rows of blinking metal glittered in the light of the lamps. Phoenix gasped.

"Oh my God...how cruel is that?"

He laughed a little.

"Winslow, you were tortured."

He shrugged his shoulders again. His expression said I know.

Phoenix picked up the paper again, but was quick to let out another gasp. "Wait - what?!" She looked Winslow dead in the eye. "You were at the audition?"

He nodded.

Phoenix took a deep breath. "Winslow Leach, are you honestly trying to tell me that I was right thinking that you were always around whenever my career got another boost?"

He laughed and nodded. Phoenix facepalmed. "Oh...my...God. This is the worst. I'm so embarrassed right now."

Winslow smiled a little. Then the smile died down.

"I know that I hurt you, that night, on the roof," he wrote down. "And I know that there are wounds that can never be closed. But I hope that we can at least try."

"Winslow," Phoenix whispered. His eye widened in fear. "Winslow... I've forgiven you already. Whatever you did that night, you've redeemed yourself by saving my life. You were ready to give your life for mine. The only question is... can you forgive me?"

A wince escaped his throat and something, a sound, that slightly resembled that of her name. His lips twitched and then he smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was sincere.

Suddenly the door slammed open and the Juicy Fruits stormed in.

"We investigated!", Harold panted.

"Yeah, we couldn't believe it, but...!"

"We thought we owe you an apology...!"

"...scraped this together...!"

"I even went to the police station and told them to fucking investigate, but Swan controlled everything...!"

"Guys!", Phoenix calmed them down. "Guys, relax, Winslow literally just woke up!"

Archie and Jeffrey shut up, Harold kept talking. "... anyway, Mr Leach, we decided we owe you a big fat apology, scraped together seventy percent of what we earned with Faust and hereby hand it over to you." He gave Winslow a thick envelope. When Winslow opened it dollar bills fluttered out.

He gasped, counted the money, then gasped again. The sum was enormous.

"Thank you!", he hastily scribbled down.

Archie shrugged his shoulders. "Seventy percent. You probably deserve more, but the bank thought I was high again and wouldn't give me more. Besides..."

"It's enough, it's more than enough!" Winslow laughed. Harold and Jeffrey sighed in relief.

"Hallelujah," Jeffrey said most sincerely. "We were so worried that we messed this up."

"We didn't want to be dicks, you know?"

"Just wanted to do our job and ended up being the bad guys."

"Relax, I'm not angry. Sorry for trying to bomb you guys up."

"Is my singing that bad?", Jeffrey asked.

"Yes, it is," Archie replied. "Sometimes even I want to bomb you up, man."

"Thank you." Jeffrey glared at him and Harold laughed out loud.

"What are you guys going to do now?", Winslow scribbled down.

The Fruits fell silent and threw each other nervous glances.

"Well...", Harold began. "We discussed that outside while you two were talking here and...uhm..."

"We decided to split up," Archie said quietly. It was obvious that the words were hurting him.

Phoenix' eyes widened. "Split up?"

The Fruits nodded.

"Swan's dead. Death Records is finished," Jeffrey explained. "We're not even remotely close to being talented enough to write our own songs. They just used us as mannequins. We've got no image."

"Swan was always the biggest ad. Swan presents the Juicy Fruits - you can't believe how much more the Swan presents counted." Harold sighed.

"You don't have to split up," Winslow wrote. "You can try and start again, only this time being yourself instead of being someone you're not."

Archie laughed sadly. "There's no ourselves. Ourselves are boring talentless farts who can't sing or write or play anything."

"That's not true," Phoenix suddenly said.

The Fruits laughed. "It is."

"No, it's not. Archie, I saw you improvising at that one show where the guitarist was sick. And Harold, I have a copy of that duet you sang when you weren't famous yet. It's awesome. And Jeffrey - you've got potential. Loads of it."

The Fruits blushed.

"Uh, thanks," Archie mumbled.

"You've got that duet? There were just, like, fifty copies!"

"I know." Phoenix smiled bashfully. "Found it in a thrift shop and thought, hey, why don't you listen to what your colleagues did before they got famous."

"Oh my God."

Winslow snapped his fingers to catch their attention again. "Is anyone here interested in founding a label with me?"

Silence.

"Hell yeah, that's genius," Phoenix suddenly said.

"Right."

"Awesome."

"We're in."

12 notes · View notes