#So he not only has to admit that he actually wants to coach and other people were right but he’s also right fucking back again anyway

[jamietwat]

Time loop fic set during season 2 when Jamie’s back around but Roy isn’t coaching yet where it takes Jamie and Roy an embarrassing amount of do-overs before they finally realize they’re both caught in it because for days Jamie goes over to Keeley’s place and antagonizes Roy in basically the exact same way because he thinks making the same stupid old man jokes all the time is funny anyway and any slight changes in conversation he just assumes is because he showed up at a different time or worded his own end of the conversation a little differently but Roy’s still basically saying the same grumpy old man shit anyway

And Roy makes basically the same retorts every time because he stands by it and he assumes Jamie shows up at slightly different times looking for Keeley as a butterfly effect of his morning with Keeley being different but that there’s no escaping him showing up to be a little bitch at some point

And like they both sometimes tell people but not the same people on the same version of the day so Keeley individually thinks that both of them are losing it on different versions of the day before eventually they both mention it

And then on like day 5 of the same day over and over Jamie doesn’t show up and Roy is irrationally angry about it but thinks it must be somehow connected to the fact that he was acting absolutely insane with Keeley trying to explain what’s happening while she thought he was fucking with her and somehow that made her brush off Jamie and him not show up or something?

And it takes Jamie showing up at 100 and just tearing Roy apart and going on about what a dick he is (which isn’t unusual but isn’t how this routine goes) and weirdly fixating on how he was excited to meet Roy but then he ended up just being an old washed up prick that never even gave him a chance because Jamie figures he can just show up, yell at Roy for all the reasons he’s so fixated on being a little asshole with a grudge against Roy in particular to get it out of his system, and then never have to deal with any consequences of Roy finding out about the whole embarrassing having been a big fan and expecting it to be so cool to play on a team with him just to immediately get offended that Roy didn’t give a shit about him and his bullshit and so Jamie ended up hating him thing

But instead Roy just scowls at him and is like “that’s not what you’re supposed to say” and Jamie’s like “…what.” And Roy’s like I’ve done this day like ten times already and either I make Keeley think I’m certifiable first thing in the morning and you don’t show up or else you show up looking for her and then make the same completely uncreative old man jokes at me and Jamie’s like what the fuck I’ve been doing this same day over and over and you’ve been making the same shitty jokes that weren’t funny the first time over and over again

And Keeley’s just sitting there watching this like “Are you two fucking with me? I can’t believe you two got along long enough to plan whatever the fuck this is.” And honestly, the fact that she couldn’t imagine them ever getting along to plan this stupid joke and agree on it is the main reason she actually starts to believe them that time in an okay either I’ve completely lost it or you two are stuck in a time loop kind of way and when she starts going on about how every time loop movie there’s like a moral the person has to learn and maybe they’re both caught in it because they’re supposed to learn how to get along and be friends and Roy’s supposed to take Ted’s offer and that’s how Jamie finds out about the Ted trying to convince Roy to coach thing

But they’re both like fuck no absolutely not, that’s not it and I’d rather be stuck in this stupid fucking loop forever than voluntarily spend time with him let alone get along (as if Jamie hasn’t shown up to annoy him practically every version of the day and Roy hasn’t just been sitting there waiting for him every time) and then they actively avoid each other for like a week’s worth of versions of the same day before they start considering that Keeley might have been on to something but it still takes three more days of pointedly not seeking the other out and waiting for the other to give in first before they run into each other at Ted’s place anyway and finally start actually swapping information they’ve picked up from their loops and what they’ve tried changing to try to get out and discussing ways to try to get out of it while Ted’s just sitting there cracking jokes and making annoyingly similar to what Keeley said comments about how in time loop and body switch things it’s always that you have to learn to see things from another perspective and be nicer to someone you don’t usually see eye to eye with before you can get out (Ted doesn’t actually believe they’re stuck in a time loop though, he’s just going well weird hypothetical but I’ll play along if this almost certainly made up scenario is what it takes for them to have an actual conversation with each other)

#Roy’s going to be PISSED when he shows up agreeing to coach and start right then one of the versions of the day insisting he’s only doing #it to get out of the day or rule it out as the answer and instead he LOVES IT and then wakes up on the same fucking day anyway #So he not only has to admit that he actually wants to coach and other people were right but he’s also right fucking back again anyway #But he’s also still in his coach everyone but Jamie era at that point and he’s gonna have to not be before they get out #I have more thoughts but I am tired #Jamie not showing up actually had nothing to do with anything Roy or Keeley did he was just trying doing other shit #Might eventually write this as like a pair of fics in a series one from Roy’s pov and one from Jamie’s pov where their versions of the same #days get posted in the same chapters of each #This is another thing for the pile of things I might turn into something eventually #Ted Lasso #Jamie Tartt #Roy Kent #RoyJamie #Keeley Jones #Roy x Keeley x Jamie #Mine

[hs-is-loml]

The Way I Love You. (x.t)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: xavier and you are weird pair of "best friends" always reaching towards something more, but neither having the guts to talk about it so plainly, until now.

Warnings: best friends to lovers trope, enid and yoko being done with both of you, major fluff, doesn't follow exact storyline or timeline

a/n: exams in a couple days are destroying me, so this is probably the only thing i'll post for the next week sadly:(

masterlist

“Hey, babe? Are you almost done? If not I’m heading to breakfast without you,” Xavier yelled through the door as you stumbled to finish getting ready. 

“I won’t be done in time, I’ll meet you in the quad,” you shouted back realizing how late you were actually running. “Can you get me juice please!”

“Okay, I’ll see you down there,” he replied back.

Enid just stared at you with the widest eyes and a dropped jaw. You turned away from her gaze as it freaked you out a bit. “HE CALLED YOU BABE?!” 

“Huh?”

“I think Enid is referring to the fact you and Xavier are repulsive,” Wednesday explained. 

“I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU GUYS AREN’T DATING?!” Enid kept yelling rushing over to you and helping get your bag so you three could leave the dorm soon. “YOU CAN’T KEEP HIM WAITING!!”

“Enid! Slow down!” she threw your blazer in your arms and pushed you out of the dorm as Wednesday followed beside both of you. “What are you even going on about?”

“Xavier.”

“Yeah, what about him?” you asked confused not understanding why she was making such a big deal over something.

“I can’t believe you two are dating!” Enid cheered excitedly as you walked down the halls.

“Enid, wait for a second,” you halted in your tracks and took a second to comprehend the girl’s words. “We’re not dating.”

“What,” Enid said dishearteningly. “I thought since he called you-”

“You thought wrong, we’re just best friends,” you cut her off as you three made the quad.

“I did not know best friends had pet names for each other,” Wednesday stated. "Odd."

“Because they’re in love with each other and won’t admit it,” Enid whined while you look around for Xavier.

You felt an arm drape around your shoulders and saw a hand holding out a bottle of orange juice in front of you, in which taking it happily and opening it to take a sip. “Won’t admit what?” 

“Nothing!” you choked out, glaring at Enid hoping she would get the hint to stop. 

“Just that-” She didn’t.

“Enid, let’s head to class, I rather pick out my eyes than watch this,” Wednesday said to Enid.

“Oh, okay, umm… Bye, Y/n! Bye, Xavier?” Enid called out as she trailed behind Wednesday as they headed to Ms. Thornhill’s class. 

“Bye, Enid,” you both tell her.

“What was she going on about?” Xavier asked while you both headed to fencing. 

“Just the usual things Enid loves to talk about,” you replied. “Gossip.”

“Of course,” he puffed out a laugh. “Who’s the poor souls?”

“Just a pair of friends that she thinks are dating,” you tried to say inconspicuously when you made it the locker rooms. 

“Enid has pretty good intuition with that kind of stuff, I wonder if they are?”

“Trust me, they’re not,” you gave him a small smile. “Wait for me?”

“Always.”

You walked out of locker rooms tying your hair out of your face, and saw Xavier waiting to the side with his mask already on. He held his own foil (sword) in one hand while the other held an extra foil and mask. 

“M’lady,” he teasingly bowed handing you them as you approached him.

“Why, thank you, kind Sir,” you curtsied back letting out a small giggle.

“You’re paired with Yoko, this morning,” he told you making your way to the mats.

“Maybe if you whined less and praticed more, you wouldn’t suck,” you heard Bianca mocked Rowan as you and Xavier got closer to the class. “Seriously, Coach, when am I gonna get real competition? Anyone else want to challenge me?”

“I will,” you stated removing yourself from Xavier’s side and slid the mask over your face. 

“Are you sure? I don’t think Xavier would want his sweet Y/n to get hurt,” she gave you pout which only encouraged you more to beat her. 

“You sure do talk so much shit,” you replied to her and heard ‘ooh’s…’ around the room. “It kind of match’s your skill, don't you think?” 

“Rowan doesn’t need you to come to his defense. He’s not helpless,” Bianca snarked. “He’s just lazy.”

“Are we going to do this or not? Or are you too scared?” getting yourself in a stance ready to go against her.

“Fine.”

“En garde!” someone called out.

Swords clashed and Bianca made the mistake of lifting her arm too high in an attempt to strike you, so you lowered yourself avoiding her sword while you were able to strike her side.

“Point to Y/n!” 

You both continued to duel, as the crowd around you guys grew. Bianca wasn’t able to tag you yet as you picked up the speed of your hits against her. So much anger at her for how she treated everyone at the school, and how she believed that she was automatically better than everyone else. The force of your strikes against her caught her off guard and her sword swayed to the left allowing you to tag her directly in her chest. 

“That’s my girl!” you heard Xavier call out from the sidelines and you were thankful you had the mask still on so no one would be able to see the blush on your cheeks.

“Winner, Y/n,” the coach announced and Bianca stalked off in anger.

You walked over to Xavier, and took off your mask in a swift motion as you noticed some time during the match against Bianca he had taken his off to see you better. He held out his arms for you and brought you in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured into your hair as you leaned your head against his chest.

“Thank you, Xav,” you lifted your head to give him a smile which returned his wide one. You stood on your tip toes, pecking his cheek and stood back allowing you to see the blush that spread across his face. “I’ll see you after!” you told him as Yoko called you over from the other side of the room. 

“Wait-“ Xavier was too late to respond as you hurriedly rushed to Yoko who seemed like she was going to burst from the questions she had for you. 

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” Yoko yelled which caught the attention of many of those around you including Xavier who was still staring at you from across the room. 

“Yoko, shh! I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you shushed the girl. 

“Don’t know,” she mockingly laughed, “He called you his girl!” she pointed out. 

“SHHHH!” you held a hand over her mouth in order to stop her from saying anything else. “NOT ANOTHER WORD.”

“Babe, you okay?” Xavier asked loudly from where he stood and a part of you was silently cursing him while the other part blushed profusely.

“Just peachy,” you uttered, glaring at Yoko who was dying of laughter at the hypocrisy of you two. You dragged her away to a more closed-off area to allow her to question you, but the bell saved you from the interrogation. 

“Okay, that’s now Enid and Yoko acting weird around you. That only ever means one thing…” Xavier pointed out once you both were walking to his dorm for lunch after attending fencing and botany. 

Let’s just say Botany might have been even more irritating than fencing because you had Bianca staring at you the whole time after she saw you and Xavier walk into class together. The only problem with you and him walking in together was that he had his arm around your waist keeping you steady as you died of laughter over hearing Ajax complaining that he stoned himself the other day which led him to miss his date with Enid. You felt bad for laughing, but Ajax resembled a kicked puppy too much not to.

“One thing what?”

“There’s a guy,” he scoffed.

“Where?” you looked around to see no one around you both, so you gave a look of confusion not really understanding what he was insinuating. 

“Are you talking to somebody?” Xavier questioned. “Enid and Yoko only ever get that giddy if they’re talking about a guy, and if you are I don’t know why you didn’t feel the need to tell. Y/n, we’re— w-we’re… you know.”

“Xavier!” you tried to interrupt, but he ignored you as he continued to talk.

“I thought you felt the same way, but obviously not since you felt like you hide the fact you’re with someone right now. I just wish you told me before Enid and Yoko,” he rambled on looking down at the floor with a scrunched expression covering his face. 

“XAVIER!” you exclaimed.

“What?’ he softened looking back to you. 

“I’m talking to you aren’t I?” you tried to hint at him.

“Well, obviously you’re talking to me right now but I meant-”

“Xav, I am talking to you,” you restated once more. “No one else.”

“But-” you knew he was going to argue with what you were saying but you weren’t going to allow it.

“Enid and Yoko were talking about us,” you explained nonchalantly letting yourself into his dorm with him following behind you, shutting the door. 

“Wait what?” he took a step back allowing himself to process what you said. “What do you mean they were talking about us?”

“They were teasing about how we are with each other.” you looked down on your hand as you turned to face him.

“And how are we with each other?” he retorted back in question, walking closer to you.

“We both won’t admit it…” you trailed off as you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you tried to avoid his gaze. “But-”

“Admit what? That fact I’ve been in love with you since we met,” he noted. “I have loved you since I saw you wandering around the halls looking for your class, I love you every day when we meet in the morning to walk to class together, I love when you scrunch your nose when you're overthinking, I love the sound of your laugh when I tell a stupid joke that’s not even worth your laughter, I love that you hold my hand when you're anxious, I love you more than anything,” he confessed to you which brought you close to tears as you went to close the space between you and him.

You grabbed the collar of his uniform to help bring him down closer to your height and smash your lips against his, moving your hands to have one the back of his neck and the other on his cheek. He immediately responded to the kiss with the same amount of urgency. His hands landed onto your hips pulling you even more closer to him. 

It was a messy kiss but seemed perfect for you and him. Both of you pulled back to take in a breath of air, leaning your foreheads against one another. “I love you. I will never love someone the way I love you,” you whispered to him seeing a smile spread across his face as he went to pull you back in for another kiss.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x you #xavier x reader #netflix #percy hynes white #xavier thorpe angst #bianca barclay #fanfic #fluff #best friends to lovers #fanfic trope #enid sinclair

[sweetbluus]

love on the court

synopsis: you and kim chaewon were considered to be tennis prodigies. unfortunately, there's only room for one at the top. after years of rivalry, you now find yourselves on the same team, working together to help your university win a major title.

pairing: tennis player kim chaewon x tennis player fem!reader

tags: rivals to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort

warnings: cursing, toxic coach, mention of accident

word count: 18.1k

notes: while tennis is mentioned quite often, the technicalities of the actual game itself is not covered. aside from knowing that singles has one player on each side of the court, while doubles put two on each side, you do not need to know anything else about the rules of the sport before reading this. enjoy!

from as far back as your memory reaches, a tennis racket has been a natural extension of your hand. your parents were the first to notice your interest in the sport when you were just a baby. your father used to play for fun, and at the tender age of 4, you stumbled upon one of his rackets hidden in your parents' closet.

legend has it that you threw a tantrum the moment they tried to take the racket away from you.

ever since, you've been consistently enrolled in tennis lessons, mastering the rules and refining your techniques. tennis became your world, your life. however, your natural talent could only take you so far. you spent hours of your childhood dedicated to learning the craft and then slowly perfecting it.

even though you were young, you despised the assumption that your skill level was solely due to natural talent. those who made such claims were oblivious to the immense effort you invested.

they had no idea of the blood you shed on the court, the dives you took for every ball, the sweat that poured while running across the court, relentlessly striving to score, and the tears that were shed in moments of loneliness and isolation.

you trained under coach lim, a meticulous and stern man with a relentless pursuit of perfection. if you made an error in your hits on a given day, he would have you practice that specific hit repeatedly until it met his standards of flawlessness, regardless of the time it took.

while other kids your age were having playdates and enjoying weekends with friends, your focus remained on the court. unlike other kids who treated tennis as a simple hobby, your commitment ran much deeper—it had become your life.

you crossed paths with kim chaewon when you were just 6 years old. she also began training under coach lim's guidance. despite being your age, her abilities outshined yours. initially, this didn't bother you. in fact, you saw her superior skills as a motivating factor, spurring you to push yourself harder with each passing day.

you thought she was pretty. her hair was always perfect despite the long hours of practice. despite the sweat, she was incredibly beautiful. looking back, you'd admit you had a slight crush on her during those days. she was not only attractive and talented but also kind to you.

on one occasion, she offered you an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich her parents had packed for her. you had forgotten to bring lunch and were starving, so you accepted the sandwich without hesitation.

"thank you," you managed to say with your mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.

"don't talk with your mouth full. you're going to choke," she scolded you, bossiness laced in her voice.

you were tempted to consider chaewon as a friend. you wanted it to be true, but coach lim always seemed to interfere. moreover, chaewon's parents were cautious about distractions, and you were unfortunately deemed a possible one.

due to coach lim's influence and the involvement of chaewon's parents, both you and chaewon directed your focus entirely toward the game, displaying little desire to establish a friendship with each other or anyone else.

nonetheless, occasional short conversations did happen between you two. her presence in your life didn't disrupt your rhythm in the least. in truth, you were eager to embrace it, hoping for a friend.

that was the case until coach lim began drawing comparisons.

“chaewon can do this, why can't you?”

“y/n, do it like chaewon! you're doing it wrong; she's doing it perfectly.”

“you're never going to go pro if you can't hit like chaewon.”

for the entirety of your youth, these hurtful remarks echoed ceaselessly during the harsh training sessions with chaewon under coach lim. with each repetition of such painful critiques, the seeds of resentment and bitterness took root within you, slowly but surely intensifying your animosity towards her.

while chaewon basked in coach lim's favor, he viewed you as inferior to her - an individual lacking the potential to become the best.

by the time you reached 14, you had dedicated the majority of your life to honing your skills. under coach lim's rigorous guidance, you attained a level of skill that was truly difficult to fully grasp.

despite your own high level of skill, victories against chaewon had been scarce compared to losses. throughout the years, it was inevitable that coach lim's immense pressure and expectations eventually impacted chaewon.

the last time you saw chaewon was right before the two of you started high school. the so-called goodbye between the two of you was less than ideal.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the tennis court. the air was thick with tension as you and chaewon faced off at the net after another match. chaewon's triumphant smile contrasted sharply with your clenched fists and fiery glare.

"looks like i won again," chaewon's voice dripped with arrogance. "you really can't keep up, can you?"

"you got lucky," you spat out, your voice laced with resentment.

chaewon's triumphant smile didn't waver. "luck had nothing to do with it. i simply played better than you, just like every other time."

a spark of anger ignited in your eyes, your resolve strengthening. "you think you're invincible, don't you? just because you've managed to string a few wins together?"

chaewon widened her smirk. "well, it's not me who's struggling with straight losses against a single opponent."

your voice shook with fury, your cheeks flushed with emotion. "you know nothing about the effort i've poured into this, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices i've made. you're so blind to your own arrogance."

“save your sob story for someone who actually gives a shit,” chaewon let out a chuckle. "and yet your hard work can't even get you close. it's sad, really."

“fuck you, chaewon.” you walked away from her, not bothering to turn back to face her.

that wasn’t the first heated argument you had with her. coach lim’s toxic mentality had taken a toll on her, transforming her into a single-minded athlete consumed by her own arrogance.

she didn’t come to practice the next day.

your main goal in your tennis career, aside from becoming a world-renowned professional and winning prestigious titles such as wimbledon, was simply to be the best that you could possibly be - to reach your full potential and then exceed it.

despite its toxicity, it was difficult to avoid the influence of coach lim’s mindset since you had been under his direction for the majority of your life. it became ingrained in you, fostering a desire for perfection in every conceivable aspect.

balancing high school life with being one of south korea's best tennis players was no easy task, yet you managed to persevere.

in your freshman year of high school, you made your first genuine long-term friend. throughout high school, your reputation preceded you on the tennis team. you didn't go out of your way to make friends, which added to the intimidation people felt in your presence. however, one daring individual decided to take the chance.

huh yunjin was an impressive tennis player herself. with a rigorous practice routine, she had the potential to embark on a professional career. of course, she was no match for you - nobody in that entire city was.

she was the only person who dared to be your partner during drills and practice matches. to be fair, she was also the only person capable of keeping up with you. yunjin was friendly and talkative, two traits you lacked.

yet, you found comfort in her stories of teenage drama and the latest gossip she would share. it introduced a semblance of normalcy to your life, a rarity given your deep immersion in the world of tennis.

coach lim held a dislike for yunjin. he believed she might distract you from achieving excellence. he had repeatedly advised you to end your friendship. despite your usual compliance, this was one matter you chose to firmly oppose against your respected coach.

you firmly held the belief that your friendship with yunjin was not something to be casually discarded. that day you defied him, he assigned you extra laps and extended your time on the court for hours.

you decided to hide your friendship with her from him.

over the course of four years in high school, your connection with yunjin deepened, and she gradually became your best friend. as your senior year unfolded, a moment of immense happiness united the two of you: the news that both of you had secured scholarships to hybe university, home to the country’s best college tennis team.

at 18 years old, you reside in the university dorms, sharing the space with your roommate, yunjin. coach lim suggested that you turn professional right after completing high school. however, your parents encouraged you to embrace college life and experience it like any other young person.

during this time, you gained a degree of independence from coach lim, as you had a new coach to guide you whom you had yet to meet. in addition, hybe university was 4 hours away from your hometown.

ahead of the semester's start, all athletes moved in early for summer workouts. before the sun even had a chance to emerge from the clouds, you and yunjin were already awake, gearing up for the demanding day ahead.

without you knowing, yunjin prepared an additional lunch and extra snacks for your sake. your unwavering dedication to tennis often led you to overlook even the most basic needs, such as proper nutrition.

while unfamiliar with the incoming first-year teammates, both you and yunjin were well-acquainted with miyawaki sakura. she stood as a third-year student and the esteemed captain of the women's tennis team. her prowess on the court was widely acknowledged, and it was clear to everyone that she was destined for professional success following her graduation after her fourth year.

“i'm so excited to meet her," yunjin's step danced with excitement as she spoke. the walk from your dorm to the tennis courts took only about 15 minutes. "not only is she super talented, but she's also really attractive!"

“yeah, i know,” you replied nonchalantly. “i played a match with her once, a couple years back.”

yunjin’s mouth hung open, “why do you never tell me important things that happen in your life?”

“first of all, you’re exaggerating. you’re my only friend; i tell you everything about my life. i didn't think you'd be interested in hearing about a tennis match,” you reasoned with yunjin.

“i’d definitely want to hear about it, especially if your match involved a pretty girl!” yunjin exclaimed.

“she’s even prettier in real life,” you giggled as yunjin pushed you off the sidewalk and onto the grass.

respect for sakura ran deep within you. while your match ended in your favor, the victory had not been easily won. sakura's unwavering work ethic and dedication stood as qualities deserving of admiration. the opportunity of being part of the same team as her filled you with happiness.

you and yunjin were the first ones to arrive on the courts. the first light of dawn painted the clouds with hues of warmth and radiance. in this moment, gratitude welled within you. the results of years of unrelenting hard work and unyielding discipline finally bore fruit.

a commanding voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “good morning, ladies. you’re here early, i see.” coach yoo walked up to the bleachers where you and yunjin were warming up. immediately, the two of you bowed to her.

coach yoo's leadership, coupled with the athletes' dedication, had propelled hybe university to its standing as a top contender in collegiate tennis, not only within the country but worldwide. in your senior year of high school, you and yunjin received the chance to meet her and undergo interviews for your scholarships.

“good morning, coach,” you and yunjin said in unison. the sound of footsteps drew your attention.

“good morning, everyone. i hope you’ve had your breakfast because today is going to be a long day,” sakura announced as she walked up to the three of you. you nudged yunjin in the side, signaling her to close her slightly agape mouth.

“miyawaki, don’t scare the newbies like that,” coach yoo jokingly scolded the captain.

“oh, please. the two of them aren’t newbies,” sakura remarked, directing a nod at you. it was evident that she recalled your match from a few years ago.

sakura's stature was shorter than yours and yunjin's, yet her toned shoulders bore testament to the years of relentless dedication. a dark ponytail held her hair in place, and as she stood before you, her confident posture spoke volumes, while her presence held a quiet authority, ready to emerge when circumstances demanded.

after a few minutes, the remainder of the team started arriving at the court. among them were two third-years like sakura: choi yena and lee chaeyeon. you had seen their names before in past tournaments.

another teammate, yabuki nako, was a second-year student. like sakura, she was born in japan. however, she made the decision to relocate to south korea after being scouted by coach yoo during her high school years.

each of them extended introductions to you and yunjin. they all came across as quite friendly, leaving a positive impression on both of you.

“waiting for two more people,” coach's announcement rang out. “they should be arriving any minute now.” both you and yunjin shared a glance, curiosity evident as you anticipated the arrival of your new teammates.

and there they appeared. “y/n and yunjin, meet your fellow first-years,” sakura stated, her gaze locked on the approaching figures. a brief pause followed, and a sinking feeling took hold of your heart.

kim chaewon. she stood before the team and offered a bow, a smile gracing her face as she introduced herself. “good morning, everyone. i’m kim chaewon.” her eyes swept across your teammates, yet her gaze lingered on you for a fraction longer. a persistent thought pricked at you - perhaps she didn't even remember you.

the girl standing beside her introduced herself as nakamura kazuha. much like sakura and nako, she was discovered in japan and then made her way to south korea. you were much less attentive when kazuha introduced herself.

it had been years, yet the sting of resentment and bitterness still resurfaced. you failed to shake off the flood of memories that came when you glanced her way.

"alright, ladies. we'll kick off today's session with a few laps around the court to warm up. then, we'll move on to our drills. finally, we'll have our practice matches." coach yoo's authoritative voice filled the morning air. "is that clear?"

"yes, coach!" the team replied together.

throughout the day's workout, you and chaewon remained silent towards each other. while you'd held conversations with everyone else, you made an extra effort to avoid her.

you noticed her new appearance: short hair, secured in a small ponytail just like the rest of the team. her slender physique and well-defined arms captured your attention. whenever her gaze landed your way, you reflexively glanced away, almost snapping your neck in the process.

the practice matches pitted the upperclassmen against the underclassmen. you won each game against sakura, yena, chaeyeon, and nako. the matches were far from easy, further affirming the status of this collegiate team as one of the world's best.

chaewon herself secured victories against all the upperclassmen, while kazuha and yunjin fell short and experienced a couple of losses.

there was a shift in chaewon. if you were both still 14, she would often flaunt her victories, but now she kept her pride in check, not allowing it to overwhelm and dominate the court.

by the time the day's training wrapped up at around 5 pm, all of you were soaked in sweat, a clear demonstration of the commitment you all exhibited on the court.

"wow, the first-years this time around are really impressive," yena exclaimed with enthusiasm. the sentiment was echoed by the other upperclassmen.

you didn’t know who suggested it, but coach yoo readily agreed that tomorrow’s workout should pit the underclassmen against each other. it wasn't as if you were afraid of kim chaewon. certainly not. if anything, you were eager to face her once again to prove that you could win.

“are you okay?" yunjin's concern filled the air as the two of you got ready for bed in your dorm.

"yeah, what's on your mind?" you'd confided in her about chaewon before, recounting the challenges you faced during your formative years.

"i mean, i know how you feel about chaewon. i understand it’s in the past, but i just want to make sure you're okay seeing her again," yunjin reasoned while removing her face mask.

one of the things you truly appreciated about yunjin was her thoughtfulness. despite her boisterous nature at times, her kind heart and empathy shone through as true markers of her remarkable character.

"thanks for checking in, jin." you offered her a sincere smile. "i promise i'm okay." it wasn't entirely a lie. seeing chaewon earlier did churn your stomach, but you weren't about to run and hide.

"if you say so. just remember i'm here if you need to talk. good night!" yunjin's voice rang out as she entered her own bedroom. you thanked your past self for standing up and defying your coach to keep your friendship with yunjin.

the next morning, coach yoo leads you through a similar routine as the day before. by the time the drills conclude, it's time for the practice matches.

as the underclassmen, you watch the upperclassmen compete against each other first. despite your own impressive skill level, you carry a profound respect for anyone who commits to this sport. achieving such an elite status demands years of hard work and countless hours on the court.

that's why chaewon's seemingly natural born talent gnaws at you. in your eyes, she's never experienced the weight of enduring coaches' criticisms, discontent with their athletes' performance. she's never experienced the sting of wrapping her bleeding hand in gauze just to return to the court after an injury, all because her coach pushed her to win. she's never had to prove to her coach that she was more than good enough.

perhaps you weren't entirely truthful with yunjin. you're definitely not okay.

now, it's the underclassmen's time to participate in practice matches amongst themselves. your initial matchup is against kazuha. despite her determined effort, you manage to secure victory in the game.

"great matches, underclassmen. we'll take a quick break, and then we'll set up another round of games. on one court, nakamura will face huh, and on the other, kim will play against y/l/n. clear?"

"yes, coach!" the response comes in unison from you and the other 1st years.

following coach yoo's instructions, yunjin shoots you a look - an unspoken check on your well-being. you respond with a nod, reassuring her. you sense chaewon's eyes on you, even though neither of you have spoken a word to each other. fortunately, everyone on the team, except for yunjin, seems unconcerned.

next up are the practice matches among the underclassmen. you and chaewon head to opposite sides of the court and then approach the net.

"let's have a good match," chaewon offers her hand. she’s certainly not the same 14-year-old you remember.

you extend your hand and shake hers. "yeah, let's."

the first serve sends the ball hurtling, starting a back-and-forth that feels like a tense duel. each racket swing carries a silent rivalry, its roots unknown. chaewon's movements are smooth and graceful, her skill evident in every shot.

the rallies are fierce, both of you pushing your limits. with every point, the court witnesses a battle between your past and present selves. to you, it's a struggle not just for victory, but for redemption.

but as the game progresses, a sinking feeling settles in. chaewon's shots grow sharper, her tactics unpredictable. with every point she claims, the gap widens, and the tension in your chest grows.

as your points lag behind, coach lim’s voice takes over your mind.

“you’ll never get anywhere if you hit the ball like that!”

“that’s how failures hit the ball!”

“this is why chaewon is better than you!”

the upperclassmen observe, the air thick with anticipation. as the final point approaches, you fight to keep your footing. every rally is a test of endurance and willpower. but in the end, as the decisive point slips from your grasp, the weight of the loss settles in.

you brace yourself for the usual degrading comments chaewon would deliver after a match, but they never come.

“good game,” chaewon says to you breathlessly as the two of you come face to face at the net. once again, she offers her hand.

you also extend your hand and shake hers. "good game," you reply. although it wasn't, not for you. your form had faltered, your focus had wandered from the game, and your overall performance was terrible.

coach yoo thought otherwise. “that was an amazing game, ladies,” she says as the two of you walk up to the bleachers where the upperclassmen are also in awe of you and chaewon’s combined talent. you and chaewon send her an appreciative nod, unable to speak from the intense match.

"imagine if they teamed up in doubles… they’d be unstoppable!" an upperclassman's voice rings out, echoed by a chorus of agreements.

"that's a thought for the future. right now, our session's over. now, go shower because you all smell! i'll see everyone tomorrow." coach yoo bids the team farewell, and everyone disperses in their own directions.

"jin, i'll stick around for a bit. just want to work on something real quick," you inform your best friend, avoiding her gaze. you sense her disapproval of your decision to stay back and overexert yourself. but she knows her words won't sway you.

with a sigh, she grabs something from her bag. "don't stay too late, and make sure to eat." she hands you a sandwich she prepared in the morning. you offer a thankful smile and wave as she heads back to the dorm. you feel chaewon's eyes stay on you before she leaves alongside kazuha.

you've lost track of how many times you've struck the ball now. the moon hangs in the sky, casting its glow as the court lights illuminate the surroundings. your shirt is drenched with sweat, and your limbs ache from the relentless exertion.

just one more.

it needs to be perfect.

you serve the ball to the other side of the net, and it goes further out. “you know, i've heard of people trying to hit the ball over the net, not into the next galaxy,” a loud voice calls out behind you.

you turn around and spot chaewon. your surprise is carefully masked. she's in sweatpants and a sleep shirt, clearly ready to call it a night.

"what are you doing here? thought you left a while ago," you inquire as she approaches the other end of the court, racket in hand. it's the spare one you kept in your bag.

“i could ask you the same thing. just needed some fresh air, and i heard someone on the court,” chaewon reasons. “serve the ball.”

“what?” you hesitate, but she readies herself for your serve.

you serve the ball, and she hits it back with perfect accuracy. you volley back, and she lets it go past.

“your serve isn’t powerful enough. it’s too predictable, and anyone from a mile away can see the ball’s trajectory. your toss is inconsistent. you’re rushing,” chaewon critiques, and you feel anger boil up within. you take deep breaths, suppressing the urge to snap back.

apart from coaches, chaewon is perhaps the only one who can give such pointed criticism. she's earned that right, but you can’t stand that fact.

in that instant, any semblance of growth you had believed in during the years of separation seems to evaporate. suddenly, you and chaewon are back to being 14-year-olds, and you release the hold on your emotions that you've painstakingly kept in check over the years.

"offering some unsolicited advice again, are we?" your voice drips with sarcasm as you tighten your grip on your racket. you walk up to chaewon on the side of the court she's on.

chaewon's eyes flash, a mixture of annoyance and defiance in her gaze. "if you're so bothered by a little feedback, maybe you should work on your sportsmanship."

your nostrils flare, your temper flaring like a wildfire. "i don't need your condescension, chaewon. your opinions on my game mean absolutely nothing to me."

a derisive smirk tugs at the corner of chaewon's lips. "ah, of course. because you're the embodiment of perfection on the court, right?"

"and just when i thought you had changed, it turns out you're still the same arrogant little girl you used to be." your eyes narrow dangerously.

"at least i don't crumble under pressure like some people i know." chaewon's retort is quick and cutting.

your fists clench at your sides, your control slipping further and further away. "your arrogance is blinding you."

a mocking laugh escapes chaewon's lips. "and your insecurities are consuming you.”

“i don’t know what i ever did to you, chaewon,” your voice tinged with frustration and confusion.

chaewon's gaze hardens, her tone icy. "spare me the innocence act. you always played the victim, didn't you? always making everyone believe you were the hardworking underdog while secretly enjoying the attention."

your fists tremble with the effort to keep your composure. "you think you're better than everyone just because you have some natural talent. you never understood the meaning of hard work because everything came easily to you."

deep down, you recognize the unfairness in assuming that chaewon had never struggled. this game is challenging, demanding time, effort, and sacrifice to excel. however, in this moment, your anger clouds your judgment, making it difficult to think rationally.

the tension between you two is intense, an invisible wall of resentment and pride keeping you apart. years of pent-up feelings overflow, turning your argument into a clash of words.

"maybe you should learn some humility," you shoot back, your voice a mix of defiance and bitterness.

chaewon's lips curl into a bitter smile. "and maybe you should learn that not everyone owes you their admiration."

your argument becomes an explosive clash of egos as the air between you cracks with disdain. the intensity is palpable as you lock eyes, a silent challenge passing between you. neither is willing to back down, your mutual contempt fueling the fire of your heated exchange. 

the silence is broken by the ringing of your phone. retrieving it from your pocket, you notice it's yunjin calling. you try to collect yourself after the intense argument with chaewon before answering.

“where the hell are you? it’s almost midnight! we have practice at 6 in the morning!" yunjin's voice comes through the call, her words so fierce that you instinctively move your phone away from your ear to avoid the impact of her raised volume.

"i got caught up in something. i'm on my way home," you reply before ending the call. looking around, you notice chaewon has already left. your earlier assumption was wrong. chaewon hasn't changed a bit.

summer workouts lasted for a month. during that time, you formed a close connection with the upperclassmen. they shared their knowledge, and you reciprocated with your insights.

throughout the summer training sessions, you and chaewon don’t speak again after that night. most of the communication, if you could even call it that, between the two of you happened wordlessly - both of you apprehensive that an outburst of emotions might unfold.

it was a refreshing change not to be subjected to a coach's constant scrutiny. coach yoo brought a different approach, avoiding pitting teammates against each other and nurturing teamwork instead.

during one particular workout, you felt sick after not having eaten all day, causing you to miss multiple easy shots. coach yoo noticed and walked up to you. you braced yourself to hear the harsh critiques.

"are you okay, y/l/n?" her typically firm tone carried a hint of softness, unveiling a compassionate side beneath her exterior.

"yes, coach. just not feeling well," you weakly responded, your determination to push through still intact. "i can keep going."

coach yoo's reply was resolute yet caring. "head back to your dorm, y/l/n. i don't want you collapsing on my court. yunjin, make sure she gets there." yunjin promptly set aside her gear and accompanied you.

experiencing a coach who seamlessly blended unwavering discipline with genuine concern was a new and welcomed sensation.

the semester begins, and the team workouts now occur every other day, a change from the daily summer sessions. you find relief in sharing several classes with yunjin, and you're even more relieved that none of your classes overlap with chaewon's, thanks to the significant differences in your majors.

as for the team format, coach yoo's decision places you, chaewon, sakura, and yena in singles matches for the season. yunjin is paired with chaeyeon, while kazuha is teamed up with nako for doubles. the team effortlessly conquers the initial set of matches against other schools, solidifying the university's reputation as the country's best tennis team.

unfortunately, a setback arises when chaeyeon gets injured and nako has to fly back to japan due to a family emergency, both incidents happening in the middle of the season. as a result, coach yoo pairs yunjin and kazuha for doubles. nevertheless, the team is left with one pair missing.

"kim and y/l/n, you two will form the new doubles pair," coach yoo announces, sending a chill down your spine. yunjin picks up on your tension and raises a question, "coach, with all respect, i could be paired with y/n, and kazuha could be paired with chaewon." her inquiry carries an awareness of the history between you and chaewon. the upperclassmen raise their eyebrows at yunjin's nerve in questioning the coach's decision.

before she answers, coach yoo instructs the upperclassmen to return to the courts to finish their drills, leaving the underclassmen alone with the coach. “my decision is final, yunjin.”

your best friend sends you an apologetic look. although her suggestion was denied, you were still quite appreciative that she went out of her way and tried for you. you notice that chaewon’s avoiding your gaze, feeling similarly to how you feel about coach yoo’s decision.

"i'm not blind," coach yoo starts off, catching your attention with her very first words. your eyes widen, sensing that she’s directing her words at you and chaewon. "i can sense the history between both of you. even the football players on the field across the campus could probably pick up on the tension. it's noticeable for everyone, not just you two."

her gaze shifts between you and chaewon, each of you feeling the weight of her words. "this situation offers an opportunity for you to work together, set aside your differences, and learn to function as a united team. we may play singles matches, but the impact of individual actions or conflicts ripples through the entire team."

admittedly, you recognize the truth in coach yoo's perspective. the realization that your past with chaewon is affecting the whole team hits you, highlighting the significance of teamwork in an individual sport like tennis. a silent nod from chaewon signals her agreement with coach yoo's assessment.

"also," coach yoo continues, "it gives us the chance to make the most of the differing playing styles that both of you bring to the table." her reasoning prompts a puzzled exchange of glances between you and yunjin.

"i'm sorry, coach, but i don’t quite understand," chaewon interjects, voicing the confusion that mirrors your own. kazuha stands by chaewon's side, and her knowing expression leads you to believe that chaewon has likely shared some details about your shared history.

“chaewon plays with aggression on the court, going for powerful shots and taking calculated risks to dominate the game. meanwhile, y/n prioritizes precision and control. she aims for well-placed shots, aiming to minimize errors," coach yoo’s insightful breakdown of your playstyles leaves you in awe. it's clear why she's the driving force behind the university's success.

“not only that, chaewon is adaptable. she changes strategies and shots based on her opponent's weaknesses. on the other hand, y/n focuses on consistent shots, working to make fewer errors and capitalize on opponents' mistakes.” 

a rare moment of understanding passes between you and chaewon for the first time that day. both of you recognized the mutual reluctance to be paired, yet coach yoo’s rationale stands firm, reminding you that further questioning is unnecessary.

“i know it’ll be difficult to adjust at first, but you’re here for a reason. you are all elite athletes in this sport. don’t let some petty rivalry prevent you from reaching your potential,” coach yoo says in a gentle tone. “we’ll have our first practice match between the new doubles teams at our next practice.”

you take a deep breath, allowing coach yoo's words to sink in. you realize that you can't allow your history with chaewon and your relationship with her to hinder your performance on the court.

on the day of the next practice, the sun hid behind the clouds, casting shifting shadows across the court. as the upperclassmen squared off in practice matches, coach yoo closely observed your game against yunjin and kazuha, where chaewon partnered with you.

as the game went on, chaewon's aggressive style clashed with your focus on precision. a tense rally ended with chaewon going for a powerful shot that sailed just wide of the line.

"chaewon, you need to control your shots better," you commented, your frustration barely concealed.

the response was swift, brimming with a sense of defiance. "oh, and you think your careful little taps are any better?" chaewon retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"at least i don't risk losing points with reckless shots," you shot back, your voice dripping with annoyance.

coach yoo's whistle cuts through the tension before the argument can escalate further. "kim and y/l/n, laps around the court. now." both you and your doubles partner let out exasperated groans, setting down your rackets and beginning the laps.

“if i hear another argument from the two of you, the entire team does laps!” coach yoo's voice echoes across the courts, a clear warning for all to hear.

as you jog the laps, chaewon deliberately nudges your shoulder. you muster all your self-control to dismiss it, not wanting to be the cause of extra work for the team.

the next practices end up similarly with you and chaewon bickering, not being able to play the best way the two of you possibly could. with an important match coming up against the university that you faced off against in last year’s national finals.

"jin, she's a terrible partner. she doesn't listen to me, she does whatever she wants, and she doesn't even play like i'm there," you confide in a hushed tone to yunjin, perched together on the bleachers.

"hmm, not listening and doing whatever she wants... sounds like you're describing someone familiar," yunjin playfully remarks, prompting you to lightly slap her shoulder. "just kidding! but seriously, you've got to find a way to make it work with her. i know it’s hard, but this upcoming match is important. you two are the best of the best, but if you can't cooperate, there’s no point."

you knew yunjin had a point. all those days of tough training, all that effort to secure your place at this top tennis university—none of it should crumble due to this situation. so, with a deep breath, you head over to where chaewon is seated with kazuha. you firmly grab chaewon's arm and lead her to a quieter spot.

“ow, jesus! you’ve got some man hands,” chaewon complains, trying to free her arm from your hold. you roll your eyes, holding back any sharp response.

"firstly, your hands are just as rough as mine," you start, your tone steady. "secondly, let me speak before you start interrupting." chaewon raises an eyebrow. "we can't keep this up. i know we've got differences, and our history isn't great. but now we're doubles partners."

"oh great, are you going to give a cheesy motivational speech?" chaewon scoffs, her eyes rolling. this is going to be nearly impossible.

"could you not interrupt? act your age," you sigh with frustration. "this isn't some pep talk. it's about the team. we're representing our university, and, let's face it, we're the best players they’ve got." chaewon stays silent, but you can sense she agrees.

“my point is, whatever this ‘thing’ is happening between us needs to stop, or at least be put aside. coach yoo is right. we can't let our personal issues mess up our game," you explain to her.

there's a pause before chaewon responds, “i don’t need you to tell me how to play this game.”

your response is quick and honest. "i'm not trying to tell you. i'm asking you to consider working together." you swallow your pride. "we both bring unique strengths to the court. if we combine them, we'll be an unbeatable team."

"is this your way of admitting i'm better than you?" chaewon raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

you feel like giving up. "you're impossible. i can't do this."

before you turn away, chaewon's voice catches your attention. "being unbeatable does sound appealing." she lingers for a moment. "after all these years, after everything... do you really think we can do this?" the sudden, unexpected change in chaewon's tone catches you off guard. there's a subtle trace of vulnerability, hinting at the impact of coach lim's harmful ideology.

“it's definitely going to be a challenge, no doubt, but i think we have what it takes. we're both talented players,” you respond.

“if we can just get over ourselves and focus on winning together, we’d crush everyone in the way.” a spark ignites in your eyes, mirrored by a similar gleam in chaewon's gaze. the fleeting vulnerability she displayed earlier has vanished.

chaewon lets out a quiet chuckle, “fine, let's give it a shot. don't expect any sappy gratitude speeches from me.”

“not in my wildest dreams, kim.”

the next practice is the last one before the important game against last year's runners-up in the national championship. while not the national tournament itself, this match holds great importance. it will set the tone for how your team fares for the rest of the year. your team is well aware that the competition is eyeing you all closely.

“today's practice match will have sakura and yena as a doubles pair going against the underclassmen pairs," coach yoo announces.

you and chaewon face off against sakura and yena first. the atmosphere is charged with tension, yet a new kind of energy fills the air. there is an unspoken determination between you and chaewon to put your differences aside and make it work for the sake of the team.

as the match begins, there are a few miscommunications and awkward moments. your precision clashes with chaewon's aggression, causing the two of you to miss easy shots. but as the match progresses, something begins to shift.

your well-placed shots start to complement chaewon's powerful swings, and chaewon's dynamic style adds an unexpected element to your controlled approach.

during a pivotal moment in the game, sakura and yena begin a relentless barrage of rapid hits. your quick reflexes allow you to anticipate yena's return, sending a scarily accurate shot back to the opposing side. chaewon, on the other hand, has positioned herself near the net, ready to capitalize on any opportunity.

as yena's return skims over the net, chaewon pounces with a fierce overhead smash that sends the ball hurtling downward with incredible force. sakura tries to counter, but her shot is rushed. you are already positioned perfectly, gently tapping the ball over the net. it lands just inside the line on the other side. 

sakura and yena can't reach it in time. yunjin and kazuha’s cheers from the bench reach your ears. locking eyes with chaewon, both of you panting, a silent agreement forms between you. the understanding is wordless yet profound – you can make this work.

“i love always being right,” you overhear coach yoo say.

you and chaewon easily beat your matchup in the game against the other university. and not just that, your whole team puts on an impressive display, completely outplaying the opponent and confirming the hybe university tennis team’s status as the best in the nation.

at the next team practice, coach yoo gathers everyone around for an important announcement. "the official national tournament is approaching. fortunately, chaeyeon's recovery is progressing well, and nako will be flying in from japan tomorrow." relief floods across everyone's faces, a testament to the genuine bond that the girls share.

"however," coach yoo continues, capturing your attention, "i'd like y/n and chaewon to remain as our doubles pair. kazuha and yunjin will return to playing singles, and chaeyeon will be paired with nako for doubles."

you notice a glint of confusion in chaewon's eyes, her brows furrowing in response. understandably so. you both assumed that you'd return to playing singles once chaeyeon and nako returned.

"i understand this might be unexpected, but witnessing you two on the court the other day was like witnessing pure magic. you two make an incredible team," coach yoo asserts with conviction. “it was pure perfection.”

hearing coach yoo express something so lofty is a rarity, and you, along with the rest of the team, are well aware of that fact. this makes her statement even more impactful and meaningful.

“now, let’s continue our practice. we have a championship to win. do i make myself clear?” coach yoo looks at everyone, emanating a sense of determination and conviction that is palpable.

in unison, the team replies, “yes, coach!”

after a particularly challenging practice session where your rhythm was off, you find a seat on the bench next to yunjin. "what's on the menu for dinner?" she asks, gathering her things to leave the court and head back to the dorm.

you shake your head, a determined expression on your face. "i think i'll stay back a bit. i need more practice."

yunjin shoots you a disbelieving look. "y/n, you're pushing yourself too hard again."

"i have to," you sigh. "i don't want to be a liability to chaewon."

"you're not a liability, and you won't be," yunjin insists, though she knows arguing won't change your mind. "alright, just don't stay too late. i'll come back after i eat and bring you some food."

"i appreciate it, but i'll be fine," you try to assure her.

"if i didn't feed you, you'd probably have starved by now," yunjin says with a deadpan expression.

"okay, okay. no need to be so dramatic," you chuckle at your best friend's playful exaggeration.

as yunjin heads off, you return to the court with your racket in hand. using the ball machine, you start a practice session focused on refining your form, determined to make each hit better than the last.

“this is tennis, not baseball. stop trying to hit home runs,” a familiar voice chimes in.

“what if i've had a change of heart and i'm just practicing for when i switch over to my new passion, which is baseball?” you retort with a touch of sarcasm.

“seems like you're the new comedian in town, y/n,” chaewon quips, strolling over to your side of the court. after the countless practices you've shared as doubles partners, you've grown skilled at rolling with chaewon's jabs and responding in a similar fashion. similarly, chaewon has learned to temper her humor, keeping it in the realm of playful banter rather than letting it escalate into a full-blown argument.

"why do you hit the ball like that?" chaewon asks, stepping closer to you.

"like what?" you scoff at her question, sensing that she isn't trying to insult you.

"like you're afraid," she comments, crossing her arms as she positions herself beside you.

you're not sure how to respond. "i don't know what you mean. this is how coach lim taught me."

at the mention of her old coach, you notice a change in chaewon's posture. her body tenses, and her expression shifts into one of displeasure. it's as if you've accidentally struck a nerve.

"well, he taught us wrong," chaewon asserts, her tone resolute.

you're taken aback by her defiance toward her former coach. even more surprising is the sensation of her front pressing against your back as she wraps her arms around you and places them on yours.

suddenly, you’re overly conscious of how terrible you must smell after all the hours out in the sun. heat rushes to your face. you tell yourself it's from the overexertion you’ve put your body through.

you swallow the lump in your throat before you ask, "what are you doing?"

"relax, i'm just helping you loosen up a bit," chaewon explains, her reasoning leaving you curious about her choice of words. “your swings aren’t too terrible, but they lack fluidity.”

as the ball machine shoots another ball towards you, chaewon gently guides your grip and stance, helping you align your body with the swing. the ball connects with the racket, and while the shot might not be as precise as your usual hits, there's a newfound sense of ease in the motion.

"see, you don't always have to aim for perfection," chaewon explains, her breath tickling your ear. "sometimes, it's about letting go a little and trusting your instincts."

you take a deep breath, feeling the truth in chaewon's words. as another ball comes your way, you try to mimic the more relaxed swing chaewon demonstrated. the ball sails over the net, landing safely within the court.

"you're overthinking it," chaewon advises gently. "just let your body move naturally. don't be afraid to take risks."

with chaewon's guidance, your swings gradually become less rigid and more fluid. there's a rhythm in your movements, a dance between your body and the racket. chaewon's presence, her arms wrapped securely around you, becomes a comforting anchor.

you clear your throat before speaking. "you can let go of me now." chaewon quickly releases her hold on you. walking over to the other side of the court where the ball machine is placed, you turn it off before returning to chaewon's side. she's still standing there.

her face is red too, likely from the intense practice you both had earlier and the sun's heat.

"thank you, by the way," you begin, addressing chaewon. "you didn't have to stay behind and give me tips, but you did. i really appreciate it."

"what did i say about corny speeches of gratitude?" chaewon says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"you said i would never hear them from you. i never said you would never hear them from me," you reply with a playful tone. her laughter fills the air, a sound you can't recall ever hearing before.

you pause, a question that's been gnawing at you since chaewon mentioned him now on the tip of your tongue. "i hope this isn't too personal, but what happened between you and coach lim? you suddenly stopped showing up."

the air around you two suddenly becomes heavy and serious. “i couldn’t handle it anymore, y/n. he wanted me to be perfect. i don’t even think he ever looked at me as a human; he only saw me as a machine that could win him trophies and titles.”

confronted with chaewon's raw perspective, you find yourself torn between your past assumptions and newfound understanding. younger you was too caught up in your own resentment and your endless pursuit of perfecting yourself that you never really saw the extent of coach lim’s effect on chaewon.

this whole time, you assumed that chaewon loved the idea of being coach lim’s perfect player, of basking in his praise and validation.

out of nowhere, chaewon’s gaze turns dangerously intense. "you never once offered a helping hand. you never even bothered to ask if i was okay."

you feel a surge of conflicting emotions, caught between understanding her pain and wanting to defend your own past beliefs. "chaewon, it's not like i knew what you were going through. you seemed to thrive under his coaching, and you always appeared confident."

"thrived?" chaewon's voice turns sharp, laced with frustration. "i had to put on a brave face because that's what he demanded. but deep down, i was suffocating. and you, you were always so self-absorbed in your own battles that you didn't see mine."

"give me a break, chaewon. i was just 14 like you. i was clueless," you snap, the heat of the argument pushing you to react defensively. "i had my own struggles to deal with. i couldn't just magically see past my own challenges."

she shoots you a sharp glance. “right, because you have all the entitlement in the world to be self-absorbed."

"that's not what i'm saying. stop twisting my words," you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. "we both had our share of problems, and it's unfair to blame me for not being a mind-reader." at this point, you're trying your best to hold your tears back, years of pent-up resentment and bitterness finally reaching a boiling point.

chaewon lets out a bitter laugh. “coach lim took so much away from me. he took my sense of self-worth, my youth, and for a while, my love for the game. i was the golden girl, the one everyone expected to excel, and for a while, i thought i was living the dream. but it was a nightmare. every time i stepped onto that court, i could feel his eyes on me, his expectations pressing down like a weight i couldn't escape."

"i told my parents everything. i explained how i felt like i had ceased to be a person, how there were moments when i couldn't even bring myself to step out of my room. i became consumed by the fear of tennis. fortunately, they granted me the opportunity to switch schools and train in japan for high school," she goes on. you imagine that's where she crossed paths with kazuha and developed a strong friendship with her.

her voice rises as the anger surges within her. "i couldn't breathe under his scrutiny. he wanted perfection, and every time i fell short, i felt like i was falling apart. he'd praise me one moment, and the next, he'd dissect my mistakes as if they were a crime against the sport. i lost myself in his demands, in the pressure to maintain this image of the flawless player he created." tears begin spilling from chaewon’s eyes.

you haven’t said a word since she began her confession of the true impact of coach lim’s toxic style of coaching. after all these years, you were finally able to hear her side of the story.

her voice is tainted with pain. through tears, she asks, "do you know what it feels like, y/n? to be praised and adored for your skills but to also be trapped in that admiration? to have every victory overshadowed by the fear of disappointing him?” her words trembled, marked by the cracks in her voice.

“you thought i had it all, but in reality, coach lim's obsession with my success was suffocating me. it made me forget why i loved tennis in the first place.” she falls to the ground on her knees.

chaewon's chest heaves with the force of her cries, and her breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps. the sound of her anguish fills the air, a symphony of pain and heartache. her hands cover her face as if trying to shield herself from the intensity of her own emotions, fingers trembling with the weight of her pain.

tears flow down from your own eyes, mirroring chaewon's pain. you sit down beside her, pulling her gently into your arms. it's a moment when you manage to set aside the lingering resentment and bitterness that coach lim had planted between you and chaewon. 

in this shared moment, you both unleash years of pent-up pain and suffering that originated from that one man. together, you and chaewon allow the floodgates to open, releasing the years of pain and anguish inflicted upon both of you by a single man.

minutes pass, and you've spent every one of them on the ground with chaewon, your fingers drawing soothing circles on her back as you help her find calm. the air remains quiet, words unspoken between you two. the tears have ceased their flow, leaving the both of you enveloped in stillness.

eventually, you break the silence, your voice soft yet laden with sincerity. "i'm sorry, chaewon."

she shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the ground as she responds, her tone carrying a blend of self-reflection and regret. "no, you were right earlier. we were just kids, we didn’t know anything. it wasn't your fault."

you release her gently and shift back, allowing her a moment to breathe. chaewon meets your gaze, her eyes telling a story of mixed emotions that her words cannot fully express. "in the end, it wasn't on us, y/n. i was hurting, but you were hurting too. we were both too lost in our own struggles to truly see each other."

you nod at chaewon’s sentiments. “we can’t change the past, but we can move forward from this.”

“here you go again with your corny speeches,” chaewon softly jokes.

"chaewon, please. we're having a moment," you playfully retort, noticing chaewon's soft laughter, a weight lifting from the atmosphere. "what i mean is, i want to see you as my teammate, even as a friend. i don't want to perceive you the same way i have since we were six."

"i know it won't be an instant change. both of us need to deal with the personal aftermath coach lim left on us. but maybe, we can face it together," you offer a smile to chaewon, met with one in return.

"can i still make fun of you?" chaewon's familiar playfulness returns. this time, her words carry humor instead of malice.

"if you didn't, i'd think you got abducted by aliens and they replaced you with someone else," you say humorously, following her lead.

chaewon's nose is reddened, her eyes and lips still puffy from crying - yours probably look the same. yet, in this moment, as the sunset's last light embraces you both, she appears more beautiful to you than ever.

"teammates?" chaewon extends her hand, a gesture of camaraderie.

"i thought you hated corny stuff?" you glance at her hand, raising an eyebrow.

"only when it's you," chaewon quips, swift with her reply. a chuckle escapes you as you shake her hand.

"alright, teammate." a brief pause envelops you both. suddenly, footsteps approach the court.

the shrill of yunjin’s voice breaks the moment, "y/n! i got some fried chicken for you! i wasn't sure about rice, but i thought you'd be hungry, so i grabbed you s-"

yunjin's words falter as she takes in the scene before her. confusion washes over her face, her eyebrows knitting together. "what the hell happened?"

you want to laugh at how comical yunjin’s expression looks, but you hold it in because you can feel that she’s extremely confused.

"just catching up with my teammate," you gesture to chaewon. getting back on your feet, you reach out your hands, offering help, and she clasps them to stand up.

"see you at the next practice," chaewon says, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.

as she disappears from view, yunjin grabs your arm and shakes you. "you have to fill me in on everything!"

"i promise i will. now, stop shaking me. you might give me a traumatic brain injury," you joke, walking alongside yunjin back to your dorm. a burden you hadn't realized was weighing on your chest and shoulders suddenly lifts.

as practices come and go, and the season progresses, your connection with chaewon slowly but surely develops. initially, it was a challenge to release the grip of your shared history. yet, the genuine love and passion you both hold for the game serve as a balm, easing the burden of the past and guiding your attention toward the present.

during a match against another university, you and chaewon face off against a less-than-pleasant pair of opponents. these girls exude snarkiness and rudeness, assuming that you both will be an easy match for them.

"let's get this match over. just by looking at you two, we can already tell this is going to be an easy win," one of the opposing players remarks, followed by a mocking laugh from the other.

"thanks in advance for helping us keep our winning streak," adds the second girl. chaewon's temper flares, her sharp retorts ready to be unleashed. having been on the receiving end of her biting words before, you know her response could easily escalate into a confrontation. swiftly, you place a hand on her shoulder, silently urging her to keep her cool.

"let's have a good game," you respond, refusing to engage in their negativity. as you and chaewon head back to your side of the court, you meet her gaze and offer a quiet reminder, "you and i both know it's not worth it to stoop to their level."

rolling her eyes, chaewon begrudgingly agrees, acknowledging your point. "you and i both know we're going to destroy them."

and she's right. you and chaewon breeze through the match, your synergy undeniable. at one point, chaewon powerfully smashes the ball onto their side of the court. unintentionally, the ball strikes the ground and hits one of the opposing girls square in the face.

you and chaewon quickly turn away, stifling your laughter. "talk shit, get hit, bitch," chaewon whispers, her humor evident. despite finding it amusing, you lightly swat her shoulder.

throughout the season, the team's bond continues to deepen, fueled by a shared passion for the game. following matches against other schools, the entire team, except for coach yoo, gathers at sakura's expansive home near hybe university for girls' night. whether it's watching movies, playing board games, or engaging in heartfelt conversations, being in their company brings you immense joy.

in your younger days, you viewed tennis as an individual pursuit, given the one-on-one nature of matches on the court.

however, now immersed in the warmth of your team and experiencing the genuine friendship between you and the other girls, you gladly embrace this sense of unity. your heart swells as you wholeheartedly include your team in your affection, a clear indication of how much they mean to you.

"come on, y/n, serenade us with a song," yena's enthusiastic voice rang out. the team had gathered at sakura's house following a spirited match, and the evening had evolved into a cozy karaoke session, with everyone donning their pajamas. 

though everyone had already taken their turn at the microphone, one person hadn't yet had their moment - you. while you had been joining in between moments, you had intentionally stepped back to ensure others took the spotlight.

"i've been singing along!" you defended playfully, only to be met with a chorus of playful boos from all around.

"technically, you need to hold the microphone to truly call it singing," chaewon interjected, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. seated beside kazuha with a snack in hand, she seemed to be the resident instigator.

"alright, alright," you conceded.

"oh, so if we want y/n to do anything, all we need is for chaewon to ask?" chaeyeon quipped, addressing the entire team and causing a ripple of amused agreement.

a collective "ooh" echoed through the room as both you and chaewon found your faces turning the shade of ripe tomatoes. in your attempt to recover, you sought refuge behind yunjin, hoping for a moment to compose yourself. to your surprise, she didn't offer any help and instead stepped aside, leaving you feeling all too exposed.

that night, you sang your heart out, surprising everyone. luckily, they all joined in, and soon, everyone was singing together.

the hybe university women’s tennis team qualifies for the national tournament, not surprising anyone. the blood, sweat, and tears poured out from every single individual on the team are what got the team here and what will help this team.

after one practice session, coach yoo gathers the team and announces, “great news, everyone. i just received word from the international tennis confederation, and they informed me that if we win the national tournament, we can get a chance to qualify for the international collegiate tennis tournament!” cheers erupt from the entire team, further fanning the fire of your determination to do well in the national tournament.

the opposing teams sense the pressure radiating from both of you whenever you step onto the court, causing your opponents to shake in their shoes.

in your final match of the tournament, the entire team relies on you and chaewon. your match will decide if the team reclaims the title of national champions and earns a chance at the international tennis tournament. despite the weight of this responsibility, it doesn't negatively impact your performance.

you score the winning shot, and the team's cheers overwhelm your senses. in the height of the moment, chaewon drops her racket and wraps you in a tight hug. sweat and muscle fatigue from the long game don't matter. you hug her back just as tightly, the past resentments and bitterness gone.

the sky painted a clear blue canvas, as if the entire universe was joining in the celebration of your team's victory. yunjin's eyes welled up with tears as she raced towards you after the win, enveloping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. the team, along with coach yoo holding the championship trophy, met on the court for a group hug.

in this moment, perfection hung in the air. you had just helped your team win a national championship, opening doors to an international title quest. better yet, your best friend shared in this triumph. in addition to all this, you had been gradually healing from coach lim's impact on your friendship with chaewon.

yet, nothing perfect lasts forever.

you're 19 when your first college year wraps up on a high note – acing your classes and clinching the national championship with chaewon for the team. after much persuasion from you and yunjin, your parents allow you to spend the summer on campus. 

before summer workouts start, you and yunjin explore the city, soaking in the sights, indulging in tasty food, and sharing laughter over anything and everything. having yunjin bring her car to campus has been a real blessing. without it, you wouldn't have had as many opportunities to go on outings together.

one day, chaewon texts, inviting you and yunjin to join her and kazuha for dinner at a local restaurant. approaching the restaurant, a message from yunjin pops up, saying she can't make it. disappointment arises within you, but your appetite wins out, so you decide to head inside anyway.

chaewon is seated alone. with a playfully exaggerated tone, you quip, "what's a pretty lady like you doing here all by yourself?" banter between you and chaewon has grown more comfortable over the school year and your time as doubles partners, sometimes hinting at flirtation. it's all harmless fun – at least that's what you tell yourself.

“lucky for you, i recognized your voice, or else i might've considered knocking you out," chaewon retorts. a faint blush colors her cheeks. "kazuha had to cancel. she's not feeling well."

"yunjin won't make it either, so it's just us," you let chaewon know, scanning the menu as you speak. detecting a moment of silence, you ask, "is that okay with you?"

chaewon mock coughs, grinning. "oh, i'm suddenly feeling under the weather too," she says playfully. "i’m joking, it's perfectly good with me.”

throughout dinner, you and chaewon enjoy each other's company. she shares that her time in japan involved training under "the best coach ever," coach minatozaki, a journey that elevated her skills even higher. kazuha trained alongside her.

afterward, the craving for dessert leads you and chaewon to a nearby ice cream spot. as you walk, your hands brush multiple times, each touch setting off a warm blush across your cheeks. in the midst of this, you spot a man on a bicycle hurtling down the sidewalk. swiftly, you grab chaewon's hand, pulling her closer to you just in time to avert a collision.

“that jerk!” you exclaim, failing to notice the telltale redness that colors the tips of chaewon's ears.

“i'm not sure what would hurt more, me getting hit by that bike or being yanked by your man hands," chaewon retorts with a sarcastic tone, though her actions give her away as her fingers entwine with yours.

you both stand by the entrance of your dorm, ice cream in hand. “thank you for inviting me out for dinner. i know it wasn’t supposed to be just the both of us, but i still appreciate it," you tell chaewon. "i'll see you at practice tomorrow?"

chaewon nods, offering a small smile. "absolutely. don't be late," she says before giving your hand a gentle squeeze and heading to her own dorm, leaving you with a heart that's surprisingly light.

as you step into your dorm, you're greeted by the sight of yunjin absorbed in a game in front of the television. "i thought you were busy?" you ask.

"i was at that time, but now i'm not," yunjin responds without hesitation. a mischievous smile dances on her lips. "so, how was your date with chaewon?"

heat rushes to your face, turning it as hot as a desert. "it wasn't a date!" you hastily grab a pillow from the couch and playfully hurl it at her, hitting her squarely in the face.

as the summer workouts begin, coach yoo tailors the training regimen to ready the team for the qualifiers of the international tennis tournament. with the team getting ready for this crucial competition, coach yoo makes the call to abstain from bringing in any fresh first-years to the squad. her focus remains solely on fostering the talents of the current players under her wing.

sakura lends a hand to yunjin and kazuha during their singles drills, closely observing areas they could refine. chaeyeon and nako train together, polishing their technique to be at their highest level. beyond being the team's chief motivator and wellspring of energy, yena tirelessly hones her swings, aiming for perfection in the impending competition.

with the rest of the team pushing their physical and mental limits to prepare for the upcoming competition, you and chaewon feel propelled to surpass expectations, determined not to let the team down.

while both of you, along with the entire team, acknowledge your status as the squad's best players, you see it not as an excuse to take it easy, but as a driving force that ignites your determination.

staying on the courts after everyone else from the team has left has become routine for you. yunjin no longer bothers trying to convince you to return to the dorm with her. chaewon would occasionally make her way back after heading to her own dorm, though not every night.

today unfolded no differently. you lingered on the courts until almost midnight, the moon illuminating the sky. chaewon didn't drop by for a visit tonight. you can’t quite put a finger on why that fact is bothering you. you start packing up your belongings and start making your way to the dorms.

en route, you reach a crosswalk. despite the campus being deserted at this hour, you quickly glance both ways to ensure no car is approaching. you begin crossing, but right as you're in the middle, the roar of a powerful engine reaches your ears. before you can react, the last sight imprinted in your mind is two blazing headlights.

you slowly come to, the world around you a haze of unfamiliar sounds and sterile scents. your vision blurs, but as it gradually clears, the stark reality settles in. you're in a hospital room, the faint beeping of monitors and distant voices of medical staff echoing around you. 

pain courses through every fiber of your being. the source of agony remains elusive. it's as though every inch of your body is engulfed in a relentless blaze of torment.

the remnants of a car crash flash in your mind—metal crunching, the tires shrieking, the overpowering impact. it's a puzzle with missing pieces, a story that seems disjointed and surreal.

with a heavy breath, you struggle to focus, to understand the gravity of your situation. tubes and wires snake from your body, tethering you to machines that are monitoring your every heartbeat and breath. your head feels heavy like a storm of confusion rages within it.

a face comes into view, a doctor jotting down notes on a clipboard. your parents stand behind her, concern etched across their faces.

"good morning, sweetie. i'm dr. chou. you've just woken up from a two-week coma," dr. chou explains. that would explain the dryness in your throat. "on a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being the worst, how bad is your pain right now?"

even in your dazed state, you don't need to think much about your answer. "ten," you rasp, the parched sensation in your throat intensifying.

"i'll give you some medication, but first i need to ask you a couple of questions," dr. chou informs you. "do you know your name?"

"yes, i'm y/n," you respond. your mother positions a cup of water by your lips to help you drink it, which you gulp down in a split second.

"good. you’re in the hospital near hybe university. now, do you remember what happened and how you ended up here?"

"not everything, but i do remember seeing a pair of bright lights and then waking up here," you explain to dr. chou. she proceeds to tell you that a drunk driver, a fellow student at the university, hit you. the driver was recklessly speeding late at night. thankfully, they were apprehended and would face the consequences.

dr. chou goes on to explain that yunjin located you when you didn't respond to her calls and texts. horrified by the sight, she immediately called for emergency assistance.

your heart aches at the thought of how yunjin must be feeling right now. you want to apologize, to express your gratitude, to tell her how thankful you are that she's your best friend. dr. chou tells you it's a miracle you're alive.

"how severe are my injuries?" you inquire of dr. chou.

"it's miraculous that your internal organs remained intact. however, your limbs bore the brunt of the impact," dr. chou begins. you gaze at your body and realize your arms are encased in casts, and one of your legs is too. you also feel a brace around your neck. hot tears well up as you take in the extent of the damage.

"i heard you're a tennis player at hybe university. that's quite an achievement. they say your team is the best in the nation," dr. chou begins softly. you can anticipate what's coming next. dr. chou takes a deep breath before continuing. "both of your arms were fractured during the accident, one from the car and the other from the impact with the ground."

the tears start to flow down your face. your chest feels heavy, and you're at a loss for how to process all of this. "your leg was also fractured, due to the collision."

"given these injuries, i can't provide an estimate of when you'll be able to get back on the court or if that will even be possible at all," dr. chou concludes, her voice carrying a gentleness, knowing that she just delivered the most devastating news.

sobs wrack your body. you're consumed by inconsolable grief. you can barely feel dr. chou's hand on your shoulder or hear her say, "i understand it's difficult now and it will continue to be for a while. just take it one day at a time." she looks at your family, your mother and father crying alongside you, "i'll step out now. just call if you need anything else."

the very essence of your existence, the labor you poured your soul into, had been mercilessly taken from you. it was a theft committed without showing even the slightest sign of remorse.

with tears blurring your vision and an agonizing weight engulfing your chest, you were left feeling like a hollow shell, drained of purpose and crushed by the weight of irreparable loss.

anger simmered within you. it was directed towards the world and the individual who had recklessly crashed into you on that particular night. however, your parents and teammates remained untouched by this anger. if anything, they became your anchors, keeping you steady through these trying times.

throughout your month-long confinement in the hospital, your teammates visited frequently. occasionally, coach yoo would accompany them. whether it was conveying their wishes for your swift recovery, bringing you your favorite snacks, or simply being a comforting presence, they stood by your side despite their own demanding training schedules.

the memory of yunjin's initial visit to your hospital room is still vivid. bursting into the room hours after receiving a text from your mother about your awakening, yunjin's presence remains etched in your mind. you recall her tears as she embraced you.

both of you find solace in each other's arms, tears flowing freely. the hug speaks softly, carrying murmurs of "i'm sorry" and "thank you."

when your teammates came to visit, they were aware of the sensitivity around discussing the sport. during their initial group visit, your parents had informed them about your situation beforehand, which led to tears from everyone.

particularly, chaewon chose to stay outside as the group entered your room, needing a moment to compose herself. she understood the significance of the sport to you, and its sudden absence affected her deeply as well. for a fleeting moment, she even contemplated not coming in at all.

that changed when kazuha went to find her and mentioned that you were looking for her.

as she stepped in, no words were necessary between the two of you. she sensed your pain, and you recognized that she was the one who could truly comprehend you. after all, she had been there from the start, witnessing your initial spark of passion for the game.

there was a time when she visited alone. your parents had gone home for a couple of days to attend to their careers and manage the house. you lay in bed, consumed by self-pity. the only yearning within you was to recover and step back onto the court, a dream that now felt as distant as the stars.

a knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. "come in," you murmured weakly.

chaewon entered, a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear with a heart bearing the words "get well soon" in her arms. "hi," she greeted softly, placing the items on a nearby table.

"how are you holding up?" her well-intentioned question fell flat as soon as it left her lips.

glaring at the wall, you struggled to maintain your composure. "i can't play anymore, chaewon." you paused, and the unspoken weight hung heavy in the air. "everything i've devoted my life to is gone." it took every ounce of strength to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"don't hold it in," chaewon urged gently, her gaze steady on you. confusion mingled with your sadness as you met her eyes. "i know you're furious, and i know you're hurting. so why keep it inside?" concern lined her expression.

at her words, your defenses crumbled. it had been weeks since you awoke in this hospital room, a place you longed to escape from. throughout those endless days, you had attempted to come to terms with the harsh reality before you—a reality where the sport you cherished had been ripped unceremoniously from your grasp.

once the torrent of sobs subsided, silent tears continued to stream down your cheeks. chaewon reached for a napkin, gently wiping away your tears.

"everything i've worked for," your voice quivered, "it's gone." a hiccup interrupted your words. "torn away from me."

"i wake up each day in this hospital bed, trapped in a nightmare i can't escape. the pain is relentless, chaewon, and i can't even move without feeling like i'm being torn apart." anger began to lace your words, burning with frustration. “i let the team down. i let you down.”

chaewon listened, her focus unwaveringly fixed on you. she fought back her own tears, determined to stand strong beside you. if you were holding on, then she would find her strength as well.

chaewon's voice was soft but resolute. "you didn't let anyone down, y/n. and don't you dare think that for a second." she leaned in closer, placing her hand gently over your cast. "we're a team, remember? this isn't your fault, and you're not alone in this."

your gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, the weight of your shattered dreams pressing heavily upon you. "i know you're trying to help, chaewon. but it's hard to see beyond this pain, beyond the loss."

"i might not be able to fully understand what you're going through, but i want you to know that you have the wholehearted support of everyone on the team, including coach yoo," chaewon's voice carries a gentle reassurance. "fuck what the doctors are saying. if they're predicting that you'll never get back on the court, i have complete faith that you'll prove them wrong. we'll get through this one day at a time."

a sigh escaped your lips, a mixture of resignation and a sliver of hope. chaewon's presence was a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. "i'm just scared, chaewon. scared that i won't ever be able to play again, that i'll be stuck like this forever."

“right now, the most important thing is your recovery. we'll explore every option, every avenue to help you heal and get back on your feet. and when you're ready, when you're strong enough, we'll find a way to get you back on that court,” chaewon reassures you.

after that day, chaewon began visiting more frequently on her own. she was a constant source of reassurance, firm in her conviction that you had the strength to overcome this obstacle.

while the rest of your teammates tiptoed around the subject of the sport, chaewon had no reservations. she understood that you wanted to hear about it, knowing that it would fuel your determination to recover.

chaewon eagerly shared practice schedules for the upcoming international tennis tournament, providing detailed accounts of each player's performance. her descriptions were vivid, her words laced with hope for your swift return to the court. she informed you that she's back to playing singles after coach yoo rearranged the team formation.

the accident had occurred at the start of summer, granting you two months to begin the healing process. astonishingly, the hospital's physical therapists marveled at your rapid progress. although you were far from fully recovered, you had made enough strides to move an arm without enduring excruciating pain.

prior to leaving the hospital and heading back to your dorm, after numerous discussions with your parents, dr. chou advised you to consider your second year as a time for recovery. this involved concentrating on both physical and mental healing, as well as working on muscle strength.

while you felt disappointed and angry about the situation, you couldn't deny that she had a point. the reality was that you wouldn't be able to play a significant role on the team this year due to your condition.

by the grace of the universe, your fractured leg was the first bone to mend, given that the brunt of the impact had been absorbed by your arms. it was weak, leaving you reminiscent of a newborn deer attempting its first steps. still, you found consolation in the fact that the wheelchair stint lasted only a month, sparing you from a year-long predicament.

you quietly resolved to make yunjin's upcoming birthday special, a token of gratitude for the times she had pushed you around.

with chaewon's guidance and the support of your friends and teammates, you eased into your recovery year. while the ache of not being able to actively participate in the sport still lingered, you channeled your energy into healing and strengthening. physical therapy sessions became a daily ritual, and each small achievement felt like a victory.

you sat on the bleachers, watching the practice sessions until they wrapped up. the girls had been incredibly supportive and kind throughout your tough journey, and now you wanted to repay their kindness in any way possible.

your second year kicks off with a wonky right leg and arm. writing proves to be nearly impossible, your arm strength is almost nonexistent. walking is equally challenging, as you wobble with every step.

you rely heavily on yunjin, often feeling guilty and apologizing for needing her assistance. however, she consistently dismisses your concerns, assuring you that it isn't a burden and that she's more than happy to help.

you continue to watch the practices. on one occasion, yunjin calls kazuha over for something, leaving you and chaewon by yourselves.

"i hate to ask, but could you assist me in getting back to my dorm? just in case i accidentally fall into a bush," you joke, aiming for a lighthearted tone.

chaewon hesitates, clearly taken aback by your humor in the midst of the situation. then, she breaks into a grin. "absolutely."

it turns into a routine. you join yunjin for classes and practice, where coach yoo has now arranged a shaded area for you. the gesture warms your heart. following practice, chaewon accompanies you back to your dorm, as yunjin and kazuha always seem to have plans afterward.

during the walks back to your dorm, you and chaewon talk about everything and nothing. from the latest updates on your recovery - "how's your left arm coming along?" she inquires.

"it's making progress, not as bad as before, but it's still lagging behind my right," you pause for a beat. "i suppose you could say i'm all-right now," you say, attempting a lighthearted joke.

chaewon narrows her eyes, though a suppressed chuckle escapes. "if you say another joke like that, i might just push you into a bush myself,” she counters with feigned sternness.

to sharing life updates - "do you remember my little sister?" she asks.

"eunchae? the last time i saw her, she was still a baby," you respond, attempting to recall her face.

chaewon nods, a fond smile playing on her lips. "she's a teenager now. a pain in the ass, but i love her." you catch a glint in chaewon's eyes, brimming with affection and admiration.

"that's cute. did something happen with her?" you inquire, struggling to keep up with chaewon's pace. she slows down, matching your steps.

she hesitates for a moment, her gaze averted. "we were video calling the other day, and she asked if i was in a relationship." a hint of exasperation laces chaewon's voice. "teenagers these days are so nosy."

your heart sinks, a surprising wave of disappointment washing over you. why did you even want to know? "well… are you?" you find yourself asking, your curiosity getting the better of you.

chaewon's face flushes with color, her embarrassment evident. "am i what?"

"are you in a relationship?" you muster the courage to ask, your pulse quickening.

chaewon stammers slightly, caught off guard. "no, no. i've been too focused on preparing for the international competition."

you nod in understanding, masking the emotions swirling within you. as you both arrive at the steps of your dorm, you offer a casual, "that's good to know." with those parting words, you turn away, leaving chaewon behind in a state of mild bewilderment and flustered surprise.

while enjoying dinner with yunjin on a weekend without practice, you find a question crossing your mind.

"hey, jin," you begin, capturing her attention.

"what's up?" yunjin responds, her mouth full of food.

"i was wondering, if i were to ask chaewon out on a date, do you think she'd say yes?" you casually inquire.

yunjin chokes on her food, causing you to widen your eyes in alarm. you quickly stand and start patting her back firmly to help her stop coughing.

"holy shit! yunjin, breathe!" you exclaim, continuing to pat her back.

yunjin manages to catch her breath. "i'm fine, i'm fine."

"what was all that about?" you ask, still in shock from witnessing your best friend nearly die.

yunjin tries to calm down after her near-death experience. "it's just, after all our years of friendship, this is my first time hearing you talk about dates or anything close to it."

"so, should i ask her?" you genuinely ask.

yunjin wants to scream. “yes!”

later that night, while you’re in bed, you overhear yunjin on a phone call in the living room.

"zuha, you will not believe this. it's finally happening!" you had no idea what yunjin was talking about.

the qualifiers for the international tennis tournament are just a week away. with the team's departure for france coming soon, their training sessions are intensifying. naturally, you observe it all, your eyes often drawn to chaewon's skilled movements on the court.

you can't help but admire how flawlessly she executes the game. while she started out aggressively on the court during your first year, she has incorporated elements of your gameplay over time. her style has grown more precise and strategic, a testament to her adaptability.

as practice concludes, coach yoo gathers the team for an announcement. "alright, ladies. our flight to france is tomorrow. please ensure you have all the necessary documents. practice is over; you're all free to go."

"y/n, can you hold down the fort for us?" coach yoo whispers to you. you offer her a reassuring smile.

"of course, coach." you would miss witnessing the team's practices, but you understand they are embarking on something significant. there's a faint ache in your heart, the knowledge that you won't partake in the tournament you played a role in securing. yet, through your teammates, you're gradually healing from the emotional aftermath of the accident.

before you get too lost in your thoughts, a tap on your shoulder interrupts you. "ready to head back?" you glance up at the source of the voice, finding chaewon offering her hand to help you up. despite your weak grip, you accept her assistance and manage to rise to your feet.

as you walk home together, your fingers remain intertwined with hers. along the way, she updates you on her life, shares gossip about a girl in her major, and recounts the tale of a cat scratching her face and leaving a scar on her lip.

listening to her stories with your hand in hers, a realization dawns on you. this is it. she's your person—the one you'd willingly give your heart to.

as you reach the steps of your dorm, you take a good look at chaewon. the moonlight delicately traces her features, leaving you breathless. her eyes glisten in the night, putting all the stars in the sky to shame.

"y/n, are you okay?" chaewon questions, still holding onto your hand.

you draw a deep breath, gathering the courage you need. "when you come back from france," you begin, "and after you secure our university a spot in the actual international tournament by winning the qualifiers, go on a date with me."

chaewon stammers, "what?" she's thankful for the night concealing her blush, hoping you won't notice how her cheeks burn.

"go on a date with me, after you win, of course," you smile at her tenderly. "i like you. a lot."

chaewon's mouth hangs open, your hand clasping hers providing a sense of stability. she lightly slaps your right arm, knowing its fragile state. "you can't just say that the day before i leave for another country!" she shields her reddening face with her free hand.

a chuckle escapes you, and you release her hand, already missing its warmth. "good luck, superstar. you're going to do great," you convey sincerely. before you turn and make your way back into your dorm, you lean in and plant a swift peck on her cheek.

for the next five minutes, chaewon stands outside your dorm building, attempting to process the whirlwind of emotions that just transpired.

as you step into your dorm, you're greeted by yunjin, who's frantically packing for the upcoming tournament in france. you offer your assistance, but she insists you need to rest.

while you're getting ready to get into bed, yunjin comes into your room, disrupting the short moment of peace you were enjoying.

yunjin's voice cuts through the air, "can you please enlighten me as to why zuha just called me up, telling me that chaewon has been screaming into her pillow for the past ten minutes?" 

the tennis team would be gone for two weeks. before yunjin's early morning departure, she entered your room, waking you from sleep and sharing a farewell hug. despite the irritation of being woken up at such an early hour, you understood the circumstances and hugged her back, offering your own words of luck.

over these two weeks, your phone is flooded with texts and pictures from the team, sharing their activities, tourist spots they visit, and their meals.

among them, chaewon's messages stand out. she doesn't bring up that night before her departure. instead, she provides updates on the opposing teams, your team's performance, and occasionally sends selfies of her trying on hats and quirky glasses from a tacky souvenir store.

you save each picture, creating a digital album of them all.

you yearned for complete healing, not just physically but also mentally. to achieve that, you knew you had to trace back to the roots of the problem.

on a bright and sunny afternoon, you dial your mother's number. with just a couple of rings, her voice comes through the phone, indicating her swift response.

“hi, honey. is something wrong?” your mother's concern is evident in her voice.

you chuckle at her quick worry. "can't i call my mom just to say hi?"

"you can, but you usually don’t, so forgive me for assuming," she responds with a playful tone.

you share a bit of small talk, catching up on each other's lives. eventually, you bring it up. "i've been considering switching personal coaches."

a momentary silence on your mother's end. "you're not satisfied with coach lim anymore? why?"

you proceed to explain your reasons: his toxic mindset, damaging ideologies, and dehumanizing treatment of his tennis players. while he may have imparted his knowledge of the sport to you, it pales in comparison to the emotional toll he's taken on both you and chaewon.

once you hang up, your mother wastes no time. she calls coach lim and informs him that his services are neither wanted nor needed anymore.

making the decision was undoubtedly difficult. you had been under that man's guidance since your early days in the sport. however, you understood that if you didn't break free sooner or later, the damage inflicted would only continue to grow.

during the two weeks that your team explored france, you found yourself back in dr. chou's office following a physical therapy session. your legs and arms had gained more strength, and the wobbling in your walk had diminished.

"y/n, how did the therapy session go?" dr. chou inquires with genuine concern in her voice.

"it was great, much better than the sessions right after the accident," you reply.

"that's wonderful to hear. how are you feeling?" dr. chou starts jotting down notes on her clipboard.

"i'm feeling significantly stronger. my walking is more stable now, and i've got a better grip with both hands," you honestly report.

dr. chou acknowledges your updates, her expression reflecting amazement. "i must admit, y/n, i've never witnessed such rapid recovery from such a severe accident."

in that moment, a glimmer of hope shines through.

"given the pace of your progress, i can project that you'll likely be back on the court around the middle of your third year if you continue with physical therapy and maintain your exercise regimen," dr. chou continues, offering more insights. however, your attention wavers, and tears quietly well up in your eyes.

following the agony and pain you faced from every single aspect, this present moment reveals the dream that seemed unattainable during your time in the hospital bed.

you waste no time in reaching out to your parents, eager to share the incredible development. their voices tremble with happiness over the phone, and your own emotions overflow, manifesting in tears of joy that you all share.

amid this heartfelt conversation, you make a silent decision to hold off on spreading the news to the team until their return from france, wanting to deliver it face-to-face when they return.

it’s 2 am and you're peacefully enveloped in the comfort of your warm bed, lost in deep slumber. the sudden buzzes from your phone jolt you awake, prompting a frustrated groan as you're reluctantly pulled from your restful sleep. with a reluctant glance at your phone, annoyance gives way to a rush of emotion. your heart quickens its pace, an involuntary fluttering as your lips curve into a widening smile.

text from: kim chaewon

you owe me a date

the team returns from france with victory under their belt. they've earned their place in the international collegiate tennis tournament set for two months down the road in the united states. when yunjin returns, you give her a massive hug, surprising her with your newfound strength.

amidst the tears of joy and celebration, you believe yunjin's tears might be because of the tournament win. but you're unaware that her tears are actually about you, about the slow return of strength to your once-broken arms.

you gather with the rest of the team as coach yoo calls everyone into a university room for an early morning meeting. it begins with rounds of congratulations, the team sharing tales of their time in france as both tourists and athletes in the tournament.

gradually, the atmosphere shifts to a more solemn tone as coach yoo delves into the rigorous training regimen to prepare for the upcoming international competition.

as the meeting draws to a close, coach yoo extends her gratitude to the team. "congratulations once again, ladies. while there's still a demanding journey ahead, we've come a long way and accomplished great things. let's continue pushing forward!" the room resonates with the team's spirited cheers, carried by coach yoo's motivating words.

"don't forget! victory party at my place tomorrow night," your captain, sakura, announces, eliciting even louder cheers from everyone.

"excuse me, coach," you speak softly, aiming not to disrupt the room's heightened atmosphere. all conversations halt, and all eyes turn to you, causing a twinge of embarrassment to sweep over you.

coach yoo's gaze fixes on you. "yes, y/n?"

"i'll be back on the court next year." the room falls so hushed that even the slightest sound could echo like a thunderclap. "my doctor confirmed it. she mentioned i'll be able to play again by the middle of my third year."

the following moments blur together, all you register are the joyful cheers and the flurry of hugs enveloping you. during the excitement, you catch sight of coach yoo's proud smile.

"jin, go ahead without me. i need to sort something out real quick," you inform your best friend while she gathers her belongings, getting ready to return to the dorm.

yunjin raises an eyebrow at you. "you could just say you want to talk with chaewon and go on a date with her. no need to lie," she says, rolling her eyes in amusement before waving you off.

"i think you owe me something," a voice chimes from behind you. you turn and find chaewon standing there.

with everyone else having already departed for their dorms or homes, the two of you are left alone. it's the first time you've spoken since her return from the tournament.

you don't reply. instead, you step closer, drawing her into a warm embrace. you hope she senses the depth of your emotions that words often fall short of expressing: happiness that she's back, relief that you could play again, and the overall joy you have for the entire team.

"i missed you," you murmur into the curve of her neck. heat rises to chaewon's face, and you can almost feel her heart beating against your own.

"stop being cheesy, it's just been two weeks," she retorts, yet her actions betray her words as she pulls you into a tighter embrace.

you let go of her and extend your arm towards her, offering your hand to hold. “let’s go on a date, shall we?” she gives your shoulder a light punch before taking your hand. 

you invested a significant amount of time brainstorming the ideal date concept for chaewon. you wanted something more exciting than a regular dinner but not overly grand, knowing chaewon would've hated that. the thought of a sunset picnic on a hill with a beautiful view under a shady tree came to mind and felt just right.

"you're not kidnapping me and taking me to the middle of nowhere just to kill me, right?" chaewon jests from the passenger seat of yunjin's car, generously lent for the occasion.

"don't start giving me ideas," you quip, your focus on the road. one hand is on the steering wheel while the other rests between you and chaewon, your fingers intertwined with hers. you feel her tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.

the remainder of the drive to your destination passes in silence, the simple pleasure of each other's company and the music filling the car. upon arrival, you park and move to open the trunk, retrieving the picnic essentials: a basket, a blanket, and a bouquet of flowers.

"here." you extend the flowers to chaewon as you both make yourselves comfortable on the blanket.

her eyebrow arches slightly. "and what's the occasion?"

"well, it's a date, isn't it?" you offer your reasoning with a playful grin. your words elicit a warm laugh from her, a sound that adds to the enchantment of the moment.

under the sheltering branches of a towering oak tree, you and chaewon find your secluded haven. the air is filled with a soft, balmy breeze that carries the scent of blooming flowers. the golden hues of the sunset cascade over the landscape.

the sky is a canvas painted with warm shades of pink, orange, and lavender, creating a breathtaking backdrop for your picnic. the fading sunlight casts a gentle glow over chaewon's features, highlighting the subtle flush on her cheeks. her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and contentment, mirroring the serene beauty of the scene before you.

as you both share bites of food, your laughter mingles with the soothing rustle of leaves overhead. playful banter dances between you, accompanied by shared smiles. with each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to fade away, leaving only the company of each other and the beauty of the present.

the moon has ascended high in the sky, and the picnic basket now sits empty beside you. both you and chaewon lean against a tree, your head finding a comfortable resting place on her shoulder.

"don't you think it's crazy?" chaewon's voice pierces the quiet around you.

"what?" you respond.

chaewon lapses into silence for a moment. "just everything, really. i mean, our journey. we started out under that... monster, our childhoods and youth stripped away."

"now, we're with coach yoo. i can't even begin to describe how much happier i am under her guidance. she's made me fall even more in love with the sport," chaewon admits, her words brimming with admiration.

you share the sentiment wholeheartedly. coach yoo is the antithesis of coach lim—equally ambitious and disciplined but also kind and empathetic. she views her athletes as individuals, not mere machines.

"don't tell me you have a crush on coach yoo now," you tease, provoking a laugh from her.

"please, don't be ridiculous. i'm just grateful," chaewon counters. you echo her sentiment. "you know, i never actually hated you."

lifting your head from her shoulder, you turn to fully face her. "where's this coming from?"

"just something i wanted to say. i've realized that while i've said hurtful things to you before, i don't think i truly meant them," chaewon confesses. "i think my own hurt and resentment towards coach lim made me misdirect my frustrations onto you."

"i think i can relate," you admit, your voice carrying a weight of shared experience. "he used to constantly compare me to you, and it cut deep. i thought i was harboring anger towards you, but it was him who fueled my anger and resentment, not you," you confess.

the two of you are now facing each other, still seated on the blanket. chaewon reaches for your hands, her touch both comforting and affirming. "i'm proud of us," she says, her gaze intense as she looks into your eyes. "we've come so far, and we've managed to heal from his influence." her voice is resolute.

with a tender gesture, she cups your cheek, her thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your notice. "i'm especially proud of you," she continues, sincerity evident in her words. "you not only survived a car accident but also managed to recover in record time. you could have given up, but you didn't."

her touch and words hold a deep sense of reassurance. "you've made it this far, y/n. you've overcome challenges that most people would have simply given up on."

"thank you," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of gratitude and emotion. you lean in, placing your forehead gently against hers, savoring this almost cinematic moment between the two of you.

beneath the soft moonlight, chaewon's voice barely reaches you. "i can't just say that i like you too," she starts, and you open your eyes, surprise evident on your face.

her hands still cradle your cheeks with a delicate touch, her thumbs gently brushing against your skin. "this feeling inside me goes beyond that," she continues, her voice carrying a sense of sincerity that resonates within you.

then, in a whisper barely louder than the rustling leaves, she confesses, "i love you, y/n."

"when i'm with you like this, it feels like everything's in the right place. like all the things i've been through were worth it, just to be with you.” chaewon pauses, seeking an answer in your eyes.

your heart's a jumble of emotions. you're on an emotional rollercoaster, uncertain where to land.

in the middle of the swirling sea of emotions within you, one truth shines like a guiding star: it’s her, only her.

“i thought you hated corny stuff,” you joke quietly, earning a soft chuckle from her.

her fingers graze your cheek, her touch feather-light yet electrifying. "i might hate corny stuff," she murmurs, her voice a mere whisper, "but i love you." and with that, her lips meet yours in a kiss that carries all the warmth, fondness, and hidden desires that have been swirling between you both.

her lips, soft and inviting, meld against yours with seamless grace—perfectly fitting against yours as if they were destined to be there. as your kiss deepens, you're aware of her hands gently shifting from your face to your neck, a subtle yet powerful gesture that speaks of her desire to draw you even closer to her. with each press, a spark of warmth ignites within you, spreading like wildfire through your veins.

you gently rest your hands on the sides of her waist, bridging the nonexistent gap between you two. your fingers trace along her sides, eliciting a soft sigh from her.

your senses intensify, capturing every detail: the subtle taste of her lingering lip balm, the synchronized rhythm of your heartbeats, and the gentle graze of her fingers against the nape of your neck.

you both ease back, the need for air breaking the connection, but your foreheads remain gently pressed together. "i love you too," you confess, witnessing a burden being lifted from chaewon's shoulders.

tears gather in chaewon's eyes. "good," she murmurs, then lets out a laugh infused with happiness.

a short silence envelops you before she breaks it. "you know, yunjin and kazuha made a bet on when we'd finally admit it to each other."

the following day, the two of you arrive at sakura's house hand in hand, your fingers interlaced. your teammates exchange knowing glances among themselves, a silent understanding passing between them. you make a mental note to address that curiosity on a different occasion.

coach yoo graces the victory party with her presence before things become too lively. just before she departs, she approaches both of you with a sly smile. "so, who said it first?"

you and chaewon share a puzzled glance, a momentary confusion crossing your features. nevertheless, you respond, "technically, i admitted that i liked her first, but she said 'i love you' first."

as the words hang in the air, a mixture of groans and cheers erupts from your teammates, their reactions varying from exasperation to celebration.

"i told you all y/n would confess first!" coach yoo announces triumphantly to the team.

you're left speechless, realizing even your coach had placed bets on you and chaewon. coach yoo departs with a knowing smile and a few extra dollars in her pocket.

you step away from chaewon to give her some time to socialize, and you join yunjin to catch up. after a warm hug with yunjin, you make your way upstairs to the balcony, seeking a breath of fresh air. the view from the balcony showcases the campus, its close proximity to the university apparent.

you gaze at the tennis courts in the distance, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. so much has unfolded, and though the future remains uncertain, you're not overly concerned.

your affection for the sport endures, but you've come to understand that your identity encompasses more than just your skill in a sport. with the support of your teammates, chaewon, and your family, you've embraced this realization.

you're pulled from your thoughts by the sensation of arms gently encircling your waist, and a chin resting on your shoulder.

"hey," chaewon whispers, her voice tickling your ear. "what are you doing up here? i missed you."

turning to face her, you lay your hands on top of hers. "just needed some fresh air. didn't know you'd be this clingy," you tease.

"shut up," she retorts, nestling her head against your neck.

a chuckle escapes you as you pull her into a tighter embrace. "the international tennis championship is coming up in a few months. you'll win, right?" you ask playfully, avoiding putting any more pressure on her.

but chaewon is chaewon, never one to shy away from a challenge. "of course, i will," she replies, drawing back to meet your gaze. "and our third year is approaching. you'll be back on the court, better than ever, won't you?" her tone matches the one you used earlier.

confidence brims in your response. "absolutely."

while your recovery is ongoing, you're farther along than anyone expected. with chaewon beside you, you have full assurance in your ability to conquer any challenges that lie ahead.

the seeds of resentment and bitterness that once existed have now blossomed into a garden of genuine love and admiration.

"i love you," chaewon declares, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. "so much."

"and here you were always giving me a hard time for being cheesy," you retort with a grin.

she playfully nudges you away, but you maintain your grip on her hips. "whatever.”

laughter rings out. this is it, the feeling that no trophy or title can match.

"i love you so much more, chaewon."

additional notes: could this have been done with fewer words? yes. but am i insane? also yes. in all seriousness, this is quite a long piece. if you’ve made it this far and read it all, i can’t begin to express how grateful i am that you gave my work a chance. i wanted to bring this fic to life just as i envisioned, which is why the word count might seem hefty for a one-shot. please let me know what you think by either leaving a comment or sending your thoughts through an ask! can y’all tell i never got over izone? did anyone notice the twice cameos? i just want to clarify that coach lim is not nayeon!  thank you one again for reading!

#le sserafim x reader #kim chaewon x reader #chaewon x reader #chaewon imagines #chaewon scenarios #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim #le sserafim scenarios #kim chaewon #le sserafim chaewon #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #blue’s pieces

[caapsiizzereads]

Tell me that I’m all you want

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Words: 3,8k

Warnings: language, angst, unrequited love (on both sides somehow)

Jamie Tartt coming back to Richmond was surprising news for everyone, including you, even though you learned about it a bit earlier than the others. You’ve only been working at AFC Richmond for a few months, so you haven’t actually ever met him, but his reputation precedes him. Fortunately, once all the legal bullshit is handled, he’s not going to be your problem to deal with.

Or so you thought.

Jamie has been back at Richmond for a few days now, and everybody fucking hates him. He can’t exactly blame them, but he’s trying his best here, and no one seems to give a shit.

Jamie comes in a bit earlier today. He wants to change and get out of the locker room before everybody else gets here. He’s tying his shoelaces when he hears the clicking sound of high-heeled shoes getting louder. He thought it was Keeley or, maybe, Rebecca, but instead he sees another familiar face. He doesn’t remember your name, but he recognizes you from the time you briefly met during the signing process. You’re like the club’s lawyer or something.

You didn’t expect any of the players to be in yet, so you’re a bit surprised when you see Jamie in the locker room. You knew that he started a few days ago, but you hadn’t crossed paths with him until now. Well, you weren’t exactly searching for him now either, you’re here to go over some stuff with Ted. So you nod at him in acknowledgment and turn towards the coaches’ office. There’s no one in there, though.

You turn back to Jamie, “Have you seen Ted?”

“I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“Shit. Um, can you tell him that I was looking for him when you see him?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.” You’re about to leave when Jamie speaks up again.

“Wait.” You turn around to look at him. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name,” he admits.

You don’t seem bothered by that at all. “Right. It’s (Y/n), I’m the club’s–”

“You’re the lawyer, yeah, I remember,” he smiles at you.

You nod at him, and then your attention is averted by Ted’s cheerful greeting.

“Miss (Y/l/n).”

“Ted!” you point at him with your finger, “you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.” The two of you walk away to his office.

The next morning, you’re walking in the parking lot when Jamie catches up with you.

“Morning,” he greets you.

“Morning.”

When you get to the entrance, he holds the door open for you. Both of your hands are busy, one with your handbag and the other with a coffee cup, so you appreciate the gesture.

“Thanks,” you smile at him.

You’re about to leave for your lunch break when you hear a knock on your open door. You’re surprised, to say the least, to see Jamie standing in the doorway.

“Hey. Are you busy?” he asks coyly.

“I was about to go out for lunch.”

“Awesome,” he grins and lifts his hand, a bag of food from the nearby restaurant in it, “I was getting lunch for myself and I thought that I could get some for you too,” he says it as if it’s not the fourth time you’re ever speaking to each other.

You look at him suspiciously, “I’ll never say no to a free lunch, but what’s the catch here?”

“Nothing! I just thought that we could have lunch together.” What you hear is that he wants company, and everybody else here wants nothing to do with him. You decide to take pity on him, your fucking empathy be damned.

“Alright,” you gesture for him to come in. A wide smile instantly grows on his face.

He takes the seat in front of you and lists the dishes that he got. You pick the one that sounds the most appealing, and he hands it to you.

“So how’s your day going,” he asks between chewing, obviously trying to start a conversation.

“It’s fine, just the usual stuff,” you reply. It would be polite to ask him back. He’s obviously trying here. He’s been nothing but nice to you so far. You sigh, accepting your fate. “How is it going for you back in Richmond? Settled in yet?”

“It’s fine, yeah. Yeah…” You both know that it’s bullshit, so you just stare at him with a straight face, waiting for the rest to come out. “It’s shit. Everybody hates me,” he gives up and then proceeds to go on a thirty-minute rant about his life.

You find yourself spacing out somewhere around minute fifteen. It reminds you of a few dates you had, if you think about it. You’re being polite to a guy once, and the next thing you know, he buys you a meal and spends an hour telling you his whole life story like you are his therapist.

Once Jamie’s done talking, he looks at you expectantly, like what you’re about to say is going to determine his foreseeable future.

“Let me check if I got this right. You were loaned here for a year, and you spent the whole time treating everyone like absolute shit. Then you got called back to the club that you loved so much, yet you still left them in the middle of the season to do some reality show, violating God knows how many contracts, by the way. And now you’re back here because, for obvious reasons, nobody else wants you, and you’re surprised that you’re not welcomed back with open arms?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but the irony is still apparent.

“But I apologized!”

You hum to yourself, your eyebrows involuntarily rising, impressed with how ignorant a person can be.

“What?” The look on your face obviously doesn't go unnoticed.

“You don’t have any friends, do you?” you deadpan.

Jamie immediately gets defensive, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“That you have no idea how human relationships work. You can’t treat people like garbage and then expect one “I’m sorry” to fix everything.”

Jamie opens his mouth again, and before the words are even out, you know that whatever he is about to say – it’s above your paygrade. You are not about to explain basic human decency to a 24-year-old. It’s a good thing that there is actually someone in this building who’s getting paid to deal with this nonsense, and that’s exactly where you send him.

“Can we… be friends?” Jamie asks before leaving.

“Yeah, sure,” you wave him off.

You said it without actually expecting anything to come out of it. But Jamie keeps coming back. Sometimes he brings you lunch or invites you out, and a couple of times he brings you coffee with a dessert before his practice. And all you need to do in return is listen to him talk (complain) about his day. You think about sending him off to Dr. Fieldstone again, but you like having your little treats, and Jamie seems to be satisfied enough with your company.

Then Ted pulls some “Led Tasso” thing. You have no idea what that means, and Jamie isn’t very good at explaining, but whatever it was, it seemed to help him fix the relationship with his teammates.

You think that now that Jamie is in his teammates’ good books again, his visits to your office will stop, but he surprises you by showing up again two days later.

Jamie’s visits do become less frequent, but they continue to happen nonetheless. Except now it seems more out of habit, or maybe even preference, than a lack of choices. And you’ve gotta admit, he’s starting to grow on you. You even find yourself expecting his little visits.

Sometimes he just sits in your office after practice, waiting for you to finish your work, so that you can go out afterwards. This makes your productivity drastically go down because the man can’t sit quietly for fifteen fucking minutes, but you don't have the heart to kick him out, so in the end, you just give up and leave work early.

During one of your lunchtime chats, you mention to Jamie that you bought a new couch, but the guy who was supposed to assemble it for you keeps postponing the date, and it’s getting on your nerves now. Jamie right away offers to help you with it, and after a little bit of convincing, you agree.

Jamie comes over to your place, it’s the first time you’ve met outside of work circumstances. Jamie is definitely not as good at building furniture as he had claimed to be, but two hours and two beers later, you still manage to put the couch together.

As a thank you for his help, you make dinner, and you spend the evening watching “Legally Blonde” (Jamie insists that it’s only appropriate) on your new couch.

That night starts a whole new pattern of you two hanging out outside of work. You spend time with Jamie Tartt. Outside of your work hours. On your own free will. And you like it! Now you have no excuses left for yourself. This little asshole has really become your friend.

It’s a Saturday night, and you’re out in the bar with the Richmond team. They won a match and decided to go out and celebrate, and Jamie obviously invited you too.

You’re sitting on the table with your feet resting on the bench that you’re supposed to sit on. Jamie’s sitting right next to you, his body occasionally touching your legs.

He makes some stupid joke, and it makes you laugh, not because it’s so funny but because of how dumb it is. He props his chin on your knee and looks up at you, grinning, pleased with himself for making you laugh. You look down at him, and without even thinking about it, you gently brush away a hair strand that’s fallen on his face. He smiles at you softly, which makes him look cute so you smile back at him and– Oh no. No, no, no, no.

You spend the next few days telling yourself that you’re just bored, that it’s okay, and it will go away. But weeks pass, and it doesn’t. You are extra aware of every smile Jamie gives you, every laugh you get out of him, every casual touch you've become so accustomed to. This is getting frustrating at this point. It’s just a stupid fucking crush, (y/n). Just get over it, for fuck’s sake.

You get a reminder of how fucked you are when one day Jamie tells you that he’s not happy about how things are between him and Keeley and he asks for your advice on how to mend things with her. Which is a totally reasonable thing to ask your friend. Because that’s what you are – friends. And you’re going to put your own bullshit aside and act like one.

You and Keeley are close enough for you to know that if you were to be honest with Jamie, you would say that she thinks of him a lot less than he thinks of her. But he obviously needs some closure there, so instead you advise him to just talk to her and apologize, while also reminding him that Keeley is with Roy now and he needs to respect their relationship too.

You mentally pat yourself on the back for handling the situation with dignity.

It all goes to shit on the fucking Valentine’s Day. You’ve never been a fan of the day, but this year is just something else.

Jamie invited you to go to some party with him, arguing that since you’re both single, you can go as each other’s “dates”. The implication there was that you come together and potentially leave with other people.

You didn’t have any better plans, and you recently bought a sexy red dress that you were waiting for a chance to wear, so you thought why the fuck not.

You knew that the dress was worth its money when, upon seeing you, Jamie not so subtly checked you out. “You look good.”

“Don’t I always?” you smirked at him.

You’ve been at the party for almost two hours, and you’re starting to think that Jamie has switched his plan to get a hookup to getting wasted instead, as he’s currently on his fifth drink. Another hour later, you all but drag him into a taxi. He’s talking nonsense and laughing at his own thoughts all the way to his place.

You lead him inside and make him sit by the kitchen island while you pour him a glass of water. He’s going to thank you for that tomorrow.

Apparently he decided to thank you for that tonight because when you turn back to him, he’s standing right next to you, and before you can react, his hands are on you and he kisses you.

He kisses you. And fucking let him. For, like, a whole five seconds you let him. Then your brain finally starts functioning properly again, and you push him away. He just stares at you, like he himself doesn’t understand what just happened.

“You’re drunk.” You harshly put the glass of water on the counter, “Drink this and go to sleep.”

You’re out of the house before Jamie says anything.

Jamie wakes up with a terrible hangover. You told him he’d regret it tomorrow, and tomorrow has come. Once he collects himself enough to get out of bed, he starts getting ready for practice. He enters the kitchen and sees an empty glass standing on the counter. That’s when the memories of the previous night come back to him all at once. Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!

It’s only after the practice that Jamie finally mans up enough to face you. Maybe ‘mans up’ is not the most fitting word because what actually happens is him standing at the doorstep of your office with his tail between his legs.

You look at him, your face unreadable.

“Hi,” he starts hesitantly.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

“Since when do you ask?”

Jamie sits in front of you. You don’t say anything, so he takes it as his que to start groveling.

“I’m sorry. I was drunk, I didn’t think.” Obviously.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you seem mad.”

“Well, I am not. Can we just forget about it and move on, yeah?” It comes out a bit too harsh, but you really want for this conversation to end.

“Yeah, sure,” he sounds very unsure.

Jamie really didn’t expect you to be so mad about it. He fucked up, yeah, sure, but it was a stupid drunken mistake, surely you would understand. If anything, he expected you to say something along the lines of “I told you so” and tease him for it for another year. But it seems like you never want to speak about it again. Was him kissing you really that appalling to you? You would’ve pushed him away faster then. Why didn’t you? You weren’t that drunk. Unless… No. You can’t– You don’t– No way.

Jamie has never thought about you in that way. Okay, that’s a lie, he totally has. But you were right when you said that he didn’t really have any friends, and at that moment of time he really needed one a lot more than he needed a hookup, so he buried all the sexy thoughts about you and put all his efforts into befriending you instead. That was working out well for him until now.

One thing about Jamie, he always has everything written on his face. So when the next day he comes into your office with that weird look on his face, you know exactly what’s going on here. You pray that he at least won’t say anything because there’s only so much awkwardness that you can deal with. You stick with acting like nothing happened, and it seems to work because, thankfully, Jamie doesn’t say anything, and you keep talking as usual. Eventually, things go back to normal.

You know that Rebecca wants something from you when she knocks on the door before letting herself in to your office. This clue never fails because she asks you to be her moral support plus one to some charity event for rich people. She says you have a knack for dealing with pretentious assholes. You’d argue that it’s actually more of a professional skill. But either way, you have a weakness for beautiful women asking you to go to fancy events with them, so obviously you agree.

Little did you know.

You notice him for the first time around twenty minutes after you get there. A man, seemingly in his mid-thirties, very handsome. He’s talking to some couple across the room. You watch him for a while before he looks away from his companions and your eyes meet. You look at each other for a few seconds before he turns back to the couple. Throughout the next hour, your eyes find each other in the crowd four more times, until you finally get a chance to talk.

He introduces himself as Jason, and you chat for some time, getting all the small talk out of the way. The waiter approaches you, offering you another glass of champagne, but you decline.

“There’s only so much champagne a girl can have on an empty stomach,” you joke.

“Fancy a dinner?” Oh, that’s smooth.

“Right now?”

“I know a good place.”

“Lead the way then.” You hope Rebecca will forgive you for dumping her.

He offers you his elbow, and you readily wrap your arm around it. You wave at Rebecca on your way out, letting her know that you’re leaving. She smiles at you and nods approvingly, she’s glad that at least one of you is having fun.

The place is, in fact, good, and the dinner goes really well. So well that it turns into breakfast and exchanged numbers.

Jamie’s sitting in your office rambling about the upcoming match while you’re eating your lunch. He’s been speaking for about five minutes when he notices the unusual amount of enthusiasm in your reactions.

He gives you a suspicious glance, “You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

It looks like you think on it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that you are indeed in a particularly good mood. Something along your train of thought makes you smile, but you choose not to elaborate and just prompt Jamie to go on.

A week later, Jamie comes to your office to wait for you to finish your work, only to find you already on your way out. He asks you where you’re leaving so early, and you smile at him mischievously and tell him that you have plans.

The next day, Jamie’s at your office the first thing after practice, ready to interrogate you about those mysterious plans of yours. You tell him that you met a guy at that event you went to with Rebecca and you’ve been going out with him. You sound pretty excited talking about the guy, which makes Jamie feel some weird type of way, but he brushes it off. He’s glad you’re having fun, however long that lasts.

It’s been two months since you first met Jason, and it just might be the happiest you’ve ever been in a relationship. Because that’s where you two are at right now – a relationship. No matter how busy he is at work, he always finds time for you. You go out on dates to all kinds of fancy places, he sends you fresh flowers for your office every week, and when he’s away for business, you get surprise dinner deliveries. Sometimes you even go with him, having already visited New York and Rome. There was also one time where you mentioned being tired of the constant London rains, so he took you to Sicily for a weekend. You have been over the moon.

Jamie met him for the first time when he wanted to hang out with you after work, but Jason beat him to it, as he was already waiting for you at your office. After that, Jamie saw him when he came to the matches with you or when he was picking you up from work. For some reason, Jamie found himself being unreasonably skeptical of the guy. But no matter how hard Jamie tried to find something wrong with him, he couldn’t. Jason treats you in the best way possible, he makes you very happy, and everybody else likes him: Rebecca, Keeley, even Roy shook his hand.

You and Jamie are hanging out at your place with your usual program of takeout, beer, and a movie. Except that Jamie hasn’t been paying attention to the movie for a while now, too preoccupied with other thoughts.

“So it’s serious, between you and Jason?”

You’re a bit taken aback by the question that seemingly came out of nowhere, but then you nod in answer, “Yeah, I think so”.

“Do you… like him?” Jamie can’t bring himself to use any other word.

You chuckle, and a soft smile remains on your face, “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Good, yeah. That’s good,” Jamie smiles at you. It’s not good. It’s not good at all. It fucking stings.

You don’t dump Jamie. You spend less time with him, yes, because now there is someone else you want to spend time with, but he’s still your friend. So why does he feel like he’s lost you?

He knows why. The same reason why when you happily tell him something about your relationship, Jamie feels a lump in his throat. The same reason why he feels a little too disappointed when you can’t hang out with him because you have plans with Jason. The same reason why he’s been coming back to your office this whole time. He is in love with you. He is in love with you, and he’s been too much of a fucking idiot to realize it before it was too late.

Richmond has won the last match of the season. They are being promoted back to the Premier League. That calls for a celebration. Everyone is rightfully cheerful, getting drunk, singing Richmond chants, dancing.

Jamie’s sitting by himself with a drink in his hand, and his eyes are fixed on you. You’re standing with your arms around Jason’s neck and his arms around your waist, your faces are inches apart. You murmur something to each other between smiles and kisses. You two look annoyingly in love.

Part of Jamie is happy for you because that’s what you deserve. To be valued, and appreciated, and loved wholeheartedly. Another part of him wants nothing more than to be in Jason’s place right now. To be the one being loved by you and to love you with all he has in return. To tell you every day how wonderful you are and to be able to make you smile like that.

He did it to himself, didn’t he? If only he wasn’t so stuck in his own bullshit to see what was right in front of him. But that chance is gone now, and all he can do is watch.

A/N: and I’m in the corner watching you kiss her oh-oh-oohh

A/N 2: i started hating this fic by the time i finished it...

A/N 3: will there be a part 2?? who knows…

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fic

[choke-me-joey]

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, violence, smut.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 3

The following Wednesday, you were called into a meeting with your coach, which meant you missed the second half of your English class that afternoon.

Eddie found you immediately afterwards as you were coming out of the coach's office.

"So, what's the damage?"

"Well I'm not getting kicked off the squad. Turns out Anderson has been harassing girls for months and several people saw him basically trap and grope me at the party and came forward to say something so...my spot is safe. Anderson however is on the verge of being expelled, definitely kicked off the football team." You said with a smug smile, adjusting your uniform skirt.

"Do you...actually enjoy it?" Eddie asks, completely not what you were expecting him to say. "Like the whole-" he makes a limp gesture as if he was waving pom poms around. "-thing?"

You chew your lip for a second. "Yeah, I do actually. I just don't buy into the whole cheerleader stereotypes. We're not all self obsessed airheads who only care about boys and whether or not our lip gloss looks good, y'know?"

"I never thought that about you." Eddie admits, leaning against the wall of lockers. You smile, placing a hand on his cheek as the bell rings. You sigh.

"I gotta get to biology. I have practice tonight but-"

"Want me to pick you up?" Shit, he was shooting his shot, he guessed. "I just got the new Metallica record, i could drive us up to the lake, we could hang out and listen to it. If you want."

"Eddie Munson, are you asking me on a date?" You smirk. "On a school night?"

He held his hands up. "Guilty."

You shook your head, jokingly tutting at him. "Think you could hold off on listening to it until Friday night? I have a shit ton of homework and extra practice this week, handsome, I'm sorry."

"Ah, how could I ever stay mad at the babe who beat down a football player for me? It's all good sweetheart, I can wait. But, you can bring the pizza, I'll bring the beer and the comfiest fucking van bed you've ever laid on."

"A bed?" You smirk, your eyebrow cocking.

"What, you wanna sit bolt upright in the front of the van all night? Be my guest." Eddie shrugs. "I, however, will be comfy as fuck in the back, hogging all the beer and pizza."

"Well, I guess I'll have to join you in the back then, won't I? See how comfy this bed really is." You grin. "I really gotta get going or Mr Clarke is gonna have my head. See ya, freak."

"See ya, airhead." Eddie chuckles, winking at you. You suddenly stop dead in your tracks, a very convincing but entirely pretend worried look on your face.

"Wait, how does my lipgloss look?" You're not even wearing lipgloss, it's just chapstick, but he plays along.

Eddie barks out a laugh. "Uh....glossy?"

"Perfect." You dash back over to him and stand up on your tip toes, placing a kiss on his cheek before darting off down the hall. He touches the chapstick residue on his skin and can't help smiling to himself like a fucking idiot.

***

By the time Friday rolls around, you and Eddie are both desperate to see each other. You had to miss Hellfire Club this week because of extra cheer practice and Ms O'Donnell had been particularly stern about people talking in her classes this week, so your time spent together was minimal.

You bounce up to Eddie, who is waiting for you by his van in the parking lot when the final bell rings on Friday afternoon, wearing a Black Sabbath shirt, sinfully tight jeans and your grubby Converse, looking every inch the not cheerleader.

"Hey stranger, miss me?" You smile, nudging him with your arm.

"Hmm, did I miss the pretty girl in my life who makes my English class a little bit more tolerable and somehow always thwarts my incredibly thought our DnD campaigns?" Eddie pretends to think, tapping a finger on his chin.

"You totally did."

"What about you, airhead? You miss me?"

"Always, oh, Eddie the days without you are so long!" You fake swoon, back of your hand pressed against your forehead like the actresses of those black and white movies your grandma used to watch. You drop your hand, both of you laughing. "Duh, of course I did. Extra biology homework and extra tumbling drills will never be as fun as your Vecna campaign."

"I knew it." Eddie pumps his fist in the air. "I'm the best dungeon master of all time, you can go ahead and say it."

You smirk, deciding to toy with him. You moan out, loudly.

"Oh, dungeon master, you're so good, oh yes, dungeon master, don't stop with your long and hard camp-" Your fake moaning is muffled by Eddie's hand clamping over your mouth. A few disgusted looking students are looking over at you both, but you don't care. You smirk under his hand.

"Are you done?" He says, laughing softly although his cheeks are bright red. How he had enough blood to flush his cheeks when the rest of it was busy heading south was beyond him. Apparently he had a thing for you calling him by his title, who knew?

And the hand across the mouth? That was totally doing it for you too. You nod. He removes his hand from your face much to your disappointment. "Get in the van, airhead."

"Yes, dungeon master."

"Stop."

***

"I've gotta learn this," Eddie states, as the solo for Master of Puppets fills your ears for the 4th time that evening. "I've been dying to learn something new to play. And this is metal as fuck."

"You play guitar?" You ask from your spot on the, indeed comfy as fuck, bed in the back of Eddie's van. He nods, grinning. "That's hot. And cool as shit."

"Come and see my band play at The Hideout one night," Eddie offers, passing you another beer. "We've recently upped our fan base from 5 to 8 drunks, so we're a pretty big deal."

"Oh my god, you're practically famous! Don't forget me when all those groupies are throwing themselves at you." You tease and Eddie rolls his eyes, cracking open his own beer.

"Well, unless they're a DnD playing, Ozzy loving cheerleader called Y/N, I'm not interested." He admits and you smile coyly.

"Cute," you say, trying to play it off like there weren't a million butterflies participating in a mosh pit in your belly right now. "And, uh, if they were a DnD playing, Ozzy loving cheerleader called Y/N, would you take as long to kiss them as you have with me?"

Eddie freezes, blinking at you. You sit up, shoulder to shoulder with him. "Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"Now would be a really good time to kiss me." You whisper, smiling, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"You know I was planning on doing that later, right?" Eddie chuckles softly, placing his beer down. You shrug.

"I'm impatient."

"I can tell you're gonna be trouble." Eddie's voice is low as he turns into you, his lips inches from yours. You smile softly.

"Maybe. I can be really good, too." You mumble and Eddie, with a hum of amusement, finally, finally leans in and presses his lips to yours, his hand coming up to hold your jaw.

It's a soft, innocent kiss at first, but you feel your entire body tingling at his touch. He goes to pull away and you pull him back in with a "nuh uh, nuh uh", and he smiles against your mouth, his tongue flicking along your bottom lip. You open your mouth immediately, allowing him to taste you properly. You both groan softly, your tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths.

The kiss grows deeper, heavier, hotter, and you allow Eddie to lay you down onto the next of blankets and pillows, moving his body on top of yours.

"Hey, hey, hey, is this okay?" Eddie breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy and voice sounding a little strained as Welcome Home (Sanitarium) wails away to itself.

"More than okay," you try and pull him into another kiss, but he hesitates. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, god you're...fucking perfect, you're so beautiful." Eddie smiles softly down at you. He then grunts, doing his best to subtly shift his jeans, his cock straining painfully against the zipper.

"Do you not want to...?"

"God I fucking want to, sweetheart. Look, I don't know about you but...this isn't just some hook up for me. I really, really like you."

Your face softens and you brush some of his hair back. "Eddie...I really, really like you too."

He smiles. "Good. So I don't wanna do this in the back of my shitty van, at least, not the first time."

"But it's so comfy!" You grin, wiggling on the blanket making Eddie laugh, dropping his head down on to your shoulder. He peppers kisses along your neck and jawline. You let out a soft moan. "If you don't want that first time to happen in your shitty van you better stop that."

"Okay, okay, but you're really pretty though, s'hard to stop kissing you," Eddie grins, pecking your lips once more. "M'sorry I made you wait so long."

"You should be, you made me miss out on kisses like that for weeks?! God damn, Munson." You giggle and he laughs softly, diving in for another kiss. It's like you needed each other to breathe at this point, your lips brushing over and over each other. "God, I really want you to fuck me," you breathe against his mouth and he groans into yours, the hardness in his jeans aching.

"I know, baby, fuck you have no idea how much this is killing me but I wanna do this properly, okay?"

"Yeah? Gonna buy me flowers and dinner and lay me down on a bed covered in rose petals before you make love to me?" You tease, both of you sitting up.

"I can do all of the above apart from the making love part," Eddie laughs. "I don't think I have the patience for that sweetheart."

"Good, cos neither do I." You wink at him before climbing into the passenger seat giggling as Eddie smacks your ass. "Come on, lover boy, let's go get some pizza."

Taglist

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#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things eddie munson

[dontexpectmuch]

part 2 - [Lost in Madrid]

-

author note: jude is annoying but whats new + im too lazy to proofread. hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think about it!!

-

series.masterlist // part three

-

“but, how do i know what participle form to use?”

you turn around to face adriana, one of your students in this course, “well, unfortunately you actually have to learn those.”

at your response, you could see hear shoulders sack a bit, muttering a spanish curse word under her breath.

“but,” you speak up again, hoping to lift up her spirits, “you’ll know them in no time, they’re easy to remember.”

nodding, she smiles at you before continuing to work on her report that she needs to wrote by the end of the month, something to monitor her progress in class.

sighing, you look around the class room, eyes focusing on the windows. it has been almost a month of you being here, teaching and helping around the center, and though it’s still a bit slow, you surely find different aspects to nite down for your thesis.

“hey, pretty teacher!” a voice appears by the door, making you tear away your eyes from the trees outside to look at the person.

“ah, lorenzo, buen día.” you smile at lorenzo, a new friend of yours.

you guys have been introduced to another by hernan, who claims that since you are in the same age range, you would get along even better than with others in the center. and he wasn’t wrong. even if you haven’t known lorenzo for a long time, you still find yourself enjoying his presence quite a lot, feeling comfortable enough to talk about various things with him during your lunch break. however, señor lagarde is still your favorite person, him giving you the feeling of an uncle that is also a father figure.

you walk up to him, looking at your students briefly before placing your attention on him.

“are you done with your group?”

lorenzo nods, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms in front his chest. they looked bigger this way, really good even, you admit. but you try to focus on his brown eyes instead, which are already looking at your face.

he turns his head to the side, smiling slightly, “i only had the younger ones today, they work fast. how about you, linda?”

you mirror his smile, “yeah, almost. they started their reports today, that is why it’s taking a bit longer.”

your gaze moves up to the clock on the wall, eyes widening as you see the time, “guys! you can already pack and leave for your practical lessons, the coaches wanted to start earlier today!”

choruses of “sí”s and “gracias”s are heard throughout the class, everyone is packing up and leaving the room, but not before wishing you a nice day.

“shall we go home together?” lorenzo pushes his body off the door frame, hand going through his dark hair to push it out of his forehead.

you move back to your desk, quickly packing your stuff, “can’t, i promised señor to watch his team play today.”

“want me to stay with you?”

smiling at his offer, you shake your head, kindly declining, “it’s fine, señor and i get along really well.”

“pero, what if that guy bothers you again?” his eyes sharpen and his lips are drawn into a straight line, though you can’t help but chuckle a bit at his behavior.

“no one bothers me! it was an accident!” you explain, putting your bag on your shoulder and walking out the room.

lorenzo is hot on your heels, not satisfied with your answer, “was that thing during lunch also an accident?”

thinking back, you pause a bit, unsure of what to say, “well, i don’t know? maybe he didn’t see me.”

scoffing, he shakes his head, “if you say so, but let’s get lunch outside next time, yes?”

“yeah, we’ll see.”

you bid your goodbyes and start to walk to the open field, thinking about the situation lorenzo was referring to,

“it’s so hot today.” you groan, moving along the line with your plate at hand.

“wait til it is august, it’s even worse then.” lorenzo replies, a smile dancing on his lips.

as you move up to the place for your drinks, you get yourself a coffee and some fruit, balancing them on your way to your seat.

but, right before you arrive at your table, someone bumps into your shoulder, causing the hot coffee to spill over your hand.

“ow, fuck. shit shit shit-“ you quickly put the coffee and plate down, shaking your hand for some relief.

“didn’t see you there.” a familiar voice behind you says, making your eye twitch.

“usually,” begin, turning around to face the british footballer, “one would apologize, instead of saying something like that.”

however, jude just nods, eyes focused on something else as he already begins to walk away, “yeah, ‘m sorry.” is all he says before he moves to the table to sit next to his friends.

scoffing, you looking down at your hand, which still feels hot, “stupid fucker.”

that trip down memory lane makes you scoff and you try shaking your head to get out of it.

but you also didn’t want to think too badly of someone you didn’t know, because who knows? maybe he has had a bad day that day? maybe he wasn’t feeling well?

instead of focusing on that, you try to focus on your view ahead, a happy señor lagarde that was explaining something to the players lined up in front of him.

in order not to bother him, you quietly move to your seat, a bit further away from the field than last time, just to be safe. you put your bag on the ground and rest your hands on your hips, eyes still looking at the people on the field. this time, there are more players than before, from different age groups and all of them play professional football here in madrid.

everything goes according to the schedule for a while, nothing too exciting. the sun is still high up in the sky, its rays heating up the entire place, resulting the players to sweat excessively during their training. you try to stay professional, you really do, but seeing some of the elder players running around the field, their shirts clinging onto their body and the sweat rolling down their neck, just makes you appreciate you internship a little more than necessary.

your daydreams come to an end when you hear someone call out your name, making you tear away your gave from the grass on your feet.

“can you bring us some water bottles?” you hear the british player - what was his name again? - yell at you, voice booming over the entire pitch.

you open your mouth, wanting to yell back, something along the lines that you aren’t some water bottle holder or whatever. but, you hold back, deciding on being mature about it and doing what he asked [demanded] you to do.

you get up, grab the bag with water bottles and start walking towards the group of people. opening the bag, you let each of them grab out a bottle, hearing small “thank you’s” as you pass them. as you turn around to walk back, you feel something around your foot, causing you to slightly trip, though it is nothing major and you catch yourself immediately. you turn around, looking at your feet first before your gaze moves up, staying locked at the face of the british player, whose eyes look everywhere but your direction.

you bite your tongue, trying your best not to say anything you might regret later. you continue your way back to your seat, leaving the now empty water bag next to it.

as practice slowly comes to an end, you start to pack up your book and pen, thinking about what you could cook for dinner when you arrive home.

“are you a new coach here?”

looking up, you see jaden - at least that is what you think his name was - looking down at you, a towel slung around his neck and hands resting on his hips. his dark eyes look directly into yours, creating a weird feeling in your stomach.

are you getting sick? due to the weather changes perhaps?

“no,” you shake your head amd get up from your seat, his eyes never leaving yours and watching every movement from your side, as if you’re some kind of prey.

weirdo.

“i do an internship here, something with languages.”

the expression on his face morphs into one of enlightenment, “yeah, makes more sense.”

offended, your eyebrows draw together, getting ready attack this guy in front of you, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’” he throws his hands up in defense, “but, like, c’mon, y’know what i mean.”

“no, no i do not know what you mean,” you take a step forward, “why are you so rude?”

“‘m not rude! just trying to start a conversation.”

“well, you suck at that.”

now, he is the one offended, mouth open in shock, “no i don’t?” his accent was thick, maybe because he was getting worked up, “you suck at getting a conversation going!”

“no, i don’t!”

“you do, though.”

rolling your eyes you move away, making your way to the exit, “go away, jaden.”

he follows you, “it’s jude.”

“that’s what i said.”

“wow, you’re rude.” jude says, coming to a halt when you arrive at the door.

“me?” your eyes widen in anger? or is it frustration? you aren’t sure, but this guy surely knows how to awaken these emotions in you, “you’re the rude one! you never properly apologized for what happened during lunch!”

“i did!”

sighing, you close your eyes for a second, your nerves running thin, “listen, i gotta go-“

“want me to come with you.” his smirk makes you want to crave out his eyeballs, though you hold yourself back.

he is just a boy, he is just a boy, he is just a boy-

“woah, are you that happy that you forgot how to talk?” he speaks up again, smirk widening.

“have a nice day.” you monotonously reply, opening the door and closing it abruptly behind yourself.

———————————————————

you always liked to say that fate was mostly by your side due to your positive thinking and avoidance of negative attitudes. but that luck must have come to an end.

after that talk with jude - not jaden, you really have to start remembering names better - you hoped to avoid being around him as much as you could, not because he did anything wrong, but just to safe yourself from another [annoying] conversation with that guy.

as already mentioned, however, fate seems to enjoy to throw you into situations where avoiding him was nearly impossible.

whenever you walked onto the pitch during your weekly practical classes, he was already there, yelling inaudible things at your direction and laughing at every mishap that happens to you. whether it was spilling the water because you got scared by a loud noise, or because your phone slipped out of your hands.

during lunch breaks, he seems to make it his very own mission to stand in your way, taking away the last piece of cake or taking extra long to choose a meal option, and what not.

at first you thought that he might just want to tease his teammates, they have always had a playful relationship amongst themselves, not a second passing without a laugh or giggle. but every time he did something that annoyed you, his eyes were already focused on yours, teasing smirk almost inviting you to punch it away.

“i just don’t understand what he wants from me.” you decide to rant to one of your colleagues during your break, expression sour.

“well,” she begins, chuckling a bit, “maybe he wants to get to know you?”

you feel like laughing, not believing the words coming out her mouth.

“yeah? and that is why his shots always ‘accidentally’ hit my legs?” you point out, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, “i just want a relaxing internship, dealing with a child was not on my bingo card.”

amanda, your colleague, laughs at your comment, leaning against the table, “that is how footballers flirt! you should give him a chance-“

“give whom a chance?” lorenzo interrupts your conversation, taking a seat next to you, his arm behind the back of your chair.

“no one.” you answer, looking at amanda knowingly, “i was just telling her about some dude.”

“who?”

“irrelevant.” you dismiss the topic and look at the time, eyes widening when you register what time it is. “i have to go, señor lagarde needs my help today.”

as you leave the room, you hear amanda shout at you, something along the lines to enjoy your time.

“ah, linda! great timing!” you are greeted by señors deep voice as soon as you step onto the pitch, your bag now left by the benches.

“i’m here to help!” you reply, laughing as he puts an arm around your shoulder.

his eyes focus on the players on the field, all of them shouting something in spanish, sometimes more curse words than actual commands.

“so,” señor begins, bending down to grab a football, “all you have to do is throw the ball and they pss it back with their head, yes? and i will tell them to either go high or low.”

nodding, you take the ball from his hands and walk towards one of the cones that are spread on the field.

blowing his whistle, señor gathers the players around you two, explaining the next exercise in spanish.

“i will do the younger ones, you have older.” he tells you, also grabbing a ball.

“okay, sure.” you look up, though your smile immediately vanishes are you are met with a smiley jude at the beginning of the line.

“miss me?” his teasing made your ears bleed - not really, but you are pretty sure that it would happen soon enough - and you bite back a groan.

“alto.” your voice is low, eyes focusing on throwing the ball the way you need to.

and of course, of course, jude has no problems with passing it back, his technique almost flawless.

this routine goes on for another ten minutes, with jude always throwing sneaky comments in between the times when it is his turn.

at one point, he even stops standing in line, deciding to stand next to you and criticize the way you throw the ball, your pronunciation, the way you stand and you are pretty sure that if he could, he’d also criticize the way you breathe.

“no, no, that was too low, how is he supposed to get that?” - “higher, you gotta go higher!” - “why would you round your back like that?”

you are about to open your mouth, or maybe throw the ball against his face, but fate seems to favor him these days, since your thoughts are interrupted by señors final whistle.

“finally.” you throw your head back and begin to walk to your bag, the heat of the sun finally getting to you.

or maybe it was your nerves that are on the brick of giving up if you have to hear judes horrendous accent any longer.

“we should totally do that again!” jude jogs up next to you, matching you pace as you continue to walk.

you - sarcastically - smile at him, shaking your head, “no need, thanks.”

“no, but, you are shit at throwing the ball properly.”

“or,” you are getting provoked, you knew it, but it was so hard not to, “or maybe you just suck at passing the ball back? maybe you should be the one practicing your technique?”

lies, lies, lies, no matter how awfully you threw the ball at him, jude never made you even take one step to the side, perfectly delivering the ball back into your hands.

he chuckles, “you know that ain’t true.”

“you ain’t true.” your reply is dry, but you couldn’t help yourself.

today was exhausting and judes annoying comments didn’t help either.

“what are you? a kid?” he asks, not getting the hint of leaving you be.

you side eye him, “i’m older than you.”

“yeah i can tell.”

mouth open in surprise, you do the first thing that comes to your mind, which is hitting his back with your flat hand as hard as you could.

jude just giggles, though, finding amusement in your behavior.

“asshole.” is the last thing he hears you say before you walk out the door, not bothering to say any kind of goodbye to him.

“don’t miss me too much, yeah?” he shouts after you, the only reaction he gets is your middle finger, triggering a laugh out of him.

————————————————————

the sound of a spanish pop song softly playing through the speakers is heard through the entire store, accompanied by the sound of your sneakers rubbing against the ground.

saturdays in madrid are definitely your favorite, you think, the heat of the sun, the sound of children playing on the streets and the shouts and cheers from your neighbors around your block all contribute into that homey feeling you have gained during your first month here. you still struggle to speak the language, the different dialects around town not really helping, but so far you have only met people that are kind enough to offer you their help, regardless of their level of english skills.

the sun starts to set outside, aurora rays shining through the windows, creating a calm and relaxing atmosphere in the store.

you hum along the melody of the song, eyes going through the different snacks that are being displayed in the aisle.

bending down slightly, your finger finds it ways to your lips, tapping it lightly, “where is it?” your voice is low, only for you to hear - or that is what you think.

“you should try the olive oil chips, absolutely slaps.” his voice booms from behind you, startling you and ruining the current vibe.

you turn around, frustration slowly creeping onto your face, “what are you doing here?”

“wow,” jude puts his hands on his hips, teasing smile already present, “not even a hello? how are you?”

“are you stalking me?” is your second question, but you have to admit that it is really childish of you. he might be here to get some snacks, just like how you are. but his presence just triggers something inside you, something you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to.

jude scoffs, smile never leaving his [annoying] face, “you wish i was, huh?”

“i’ll sue you, or whatever!” you threaten, already getting worked up.

“for what? being too handsome?” a smirk dances around his lips, a kind of smirk that you want to slap out of his face [do you really?]

“is said handsomeness with us in the room right now?” your voice is monotonous, making judes eye twitch at your comment.

“maybe get some new glasses, grandma.”

you open your mouth for a comeback, but are interrupted by a new, soft voice.

“honey, did you get the snacks?”

judes eyes move to your face, “‘m tryin’” he winks at you - at least he tries, but it mostly looks like him blinking in a weird way.

you focus on the lady coming up behind judes right side, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this woman is his mother. jude looks like her a lot, and without wanting to compliment him in any way, you have to admit that she is beautiful. kind smile, warm eyes and beautiful aura surrounding her, you would entrust her your deepest secrets without a second thought.

“mum, this is my friend.” jude tells her your name, repeating the same process of telling you her name, denise. you want to tell him off for calling you his friend, but leave it out for another time.

you smile, stretching out your hand to shake hers, “it is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

she shakes your hand, smiling at you, “no need to be so formal, dear, denise is enough.” she tells you.

she turns to face jude, giving him her wallet and telling him something you can’t really make out. facing you once more, denise tells you goodbye and adds that she would like to have you over for some dinner sometime, you can’t really resist and tell her, yes, you’d love to come over and eat dinner. she walks off, disappearing behind another aisle without another word.

now, you focus on the guy in front of you again, his stupid smile making your eye twitch this time.

“why are you standing there?” well, maybe you are rude, and shit do you hate this feeling. jude never did anything too bad for you to treat him this way. you can’t even explain your dislike towards him, it is just something you can’t control, like when you start to dislike a person before even meeting them, not bothering to get to know them anyway. maybe because he made your first few weeks at the center harder than necessary, ticking you off for no reason.

with his mothers wallet in his hand, jude steps closer to you, picking up a snack that is on a shelf behind you, kind of caging you between his body and the shelf. you hold your breath, but his parfume still manages to find its way to your nose. his eyes stare at your face, and though this moment does not last longer than a few seconds, it surely feels like hours, everything going in slow motion.

“we should hang out sometime.” is the first thing he says after he takes a step back, now snack at hand and smile back on his face.

maybe he means well, genuinely interested in a friendship with you, however you still feel the need to get away from him as far as you could, a weird feeling spreading in your stomach after that little moment the two of you had. so you do what you have always done so far, pushing him away.

“not interested, thanks.”

you try to step forward to another aisle, but you way is being blocked by judes body, “no, but like, i am quite fun to be around, maybe you’d finally get a good humor yourself if i influence you enough.”

you roll your eyes, distaste not in the dark, “you? showing me how to have a good humor?”

he nods, a small agreement leaving his lips.

“and, your humor is what? bumping shoulders of others, hitting their legs with footballs,” you pause, recreating a think pause, “hm, what else?”

chuckling, jude mirrors your pose, “well, i think also being a smooth talker?”

that statement tickles a laugh out of you, the sound spilling from your lips clear. your eyes are closed, you won’t see it, but hearing you laugh causes judes smile widen, his cheeks even start to hurt. your smile brightens up your face, your cheeks look full and your pearly whites are present, all an addition to your radiant prettiness.

the warmth he feels is short lived, though, you calm down and simply tell him to get going, starting to walk away yourself.

you hear his footsteps follow you, but decide to not say anything anymore. there is no point of arguing with him any longer, he will be the same annoying jude that you have got to know over the past month. you won’t let him ruin this beautiful evening, everything has been going way too good for that - well, until you met him in the store.

“so,” jude is now walking beside you, grabbing some snacks and drinks on his way, “my place or yours?”

“i don’t want to fuck you, jude.”

“no, no!” he quickly denies, eyes wide, “i mean, we should definitely hang out more, y’know, strengthen our friendship.”

“no, thanks.”

“c’mooon.”

-

you open your apartment door, frustration painted on your face.

“just,” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “just take off your shoes and put them next to mine.”

you turn to face the footballer standing behind you, excitement vivid in his face. you don’t know how, or when he did it, whether he just followed you here, but before you could notice it you have had led him to your home. he is just so annoying, winding you up at any given chance, that is why you didn’t notice that he followed you home - or this is what you’d like to tell yourself.

you walk into your kitchen, watching jude who follows you put your groceries onto the counter.

“you still didn’t have to carry them, y’know.” is all you say, a silent ‘thank you’ in your unique way.

jude simply smiles, “my mum would’ve make me sleep outside if i’d let you carry ‘em.”

you push yourself off the counter, moving to sit on your couch as you look up at him, “well, now that you’ve seen my apartment, you can go now, right?”

“no way!” jude decides to take a seat on the other couch, “we still have to eat the snacks i bought and play games!”

you lean your head back against the couch, sighing, “jude, c’mon. ‘m tired.”

“don’t care.”

he gets up again, and you hear some rustling from the kitchen, assuming that he is probably getting the snacks from the bags. you don’t bother to open your eyes when you hear him put bowls onto the coffee table, he will do whatever he wants anyway.

you decide to lift your head up to look at jude, only to find his face inches away from yours.

“what the fuck!” your instincts kick in and you do what first comes to your mind, you, well you slap him, hard.

his face flys to the left, eyes wide open in shock as he stands up straight, his left hand now covering his cheek, “bro, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

“with me!” you put your feet onto the couch, pressing your upper body against its back, “what the hell is wrong with you! why would you even be so close to me!”

“you had something on your face!” is his excuse, scoffing as he sits back on the couch, grabbing a drink from the table.

you shake your head in disbelief, not even bothering to answer him. you grab a bowl and put one of the chips into your mouth, testing the ones jude bragged about when you were still at the store.

“does your mother know that you are currently sitting on the couch in the home of a stranger?” you ask, looking at him.

“wait til she finds out you slapped her precious son, no more dinner for you.” he responds, taking a chip from your bowl even though there is a second one on the table.

“boo-hoo, cry me a river.”

“well, did you know that we live pretty close to each other?” jude skillfully changes the subject, taking another sip from his drink before setting it down, “we should definitely go home together after the practice sessions.”

your eyes wander around your living room, going over the different pieces of furniture around, “another friend of mine already walks with me.”

“ditch them.”

“no? why would i do that?”

“to hang out with me!”

“nah.”

jude crosses his arms in front of his chest, lips pouting slightly, “it’s always the elder ones that are so rude.”

“and you expect me to be friends with your childish self?” with how you much have been rolling your eyes ever since you met jude, you’re scared that they might get stuck one day.

“at least i’d keep the spirit of our friendship alive!”

“i pass.”

and though you don’t notice it, a small smile creeps its way onto your lips, gradually growing the more time you spend with jude sitting in your living room, eating snacks and listening to the different stories he has to tell. you didn’t think that you would spend your saturday evening sitting in your home, listening to some guy with a horrible accent talk about whatever came to bis mind, but it feels relaxing, not having to use your brain for something.

you also don’t notice your eyes feeling heavy, slowly but surely falling shut as you continue to listen to jude, his voice deep but softly telling you about his time in germany and how the people there would treat him.

as soon as he sees your eyes shut and head leaning against the back of the couch, he slowly gets up, careful to not make a sound, and grabs a blanket from the chair in the kitchen, draping it over your sleeping figure. he takes the bowls and drinks, leaving them by the kitchen counter before he moves to the door, putting on his shoes. he looks back one last time, just to check if everything is done, his eyes staying longer on your face than necessary. after a final look, he turns the doorknob and leaves your home, carefully shutting the door behind him.

#jude bellingham #football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #LostinMadrid

[goldenseresinretriever]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 20

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, pure fluff actually, swearing, dead parents, mentions of major character death, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

A/N: I’m gonna cry, y’all

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist

That night Jake calls for a team outing and Bradley is surprisingly not begrudging as he agrees to tag along despite the fact that usually he’d point out that he’d rather spend the evening with you. There’s one more game on New Year's Eve but the coaches are cutting the guys some slack since it’s the holidays. That’s how you find yourself glaring at your boyfriend as you line up next to each other and you strongly consider accidentally dropping your bowling ball on his foot.

It’s boys versus girls in neighboring lanes and you and Bradley have been tied for the better part of the game. Sure, Jake’s ahead of him, but this competition between the two of you supersedes the overall game. You’d be playing better but Javy had implemented a rule that dictated that you take a shot if you land a gutter ball and you’re more tipsy than you’d like to admit. Bradley, despite his multiple gutter balls, is built like a brick wall and therefore the shots have had little to no impact on his game. You’re beyond arguing the skewed fairness of the game and you’ve descended into quiet rage. You still lead the girls but that means nothing to you if you can’t beat Bradley and as you watch every pin in the lane next to you clatter to the floor with a satisfying crack you’re wondering how good you’d be at shotput. He turns to you, a cocky smile on his lips that dares you to match him.

Sure you and Bradley have a softer relationship but you both have a natural competitive edge that comes from growing up in the world of sports. Yours manifests more often in the form of your stubbornness but when a game does happen to be on the line you’re determined to win. As you scowl at Bradley you catch sight of Mickey smirking behind him. He knows better than to goad you when you’re in competitive mode. You take a deep breath in a poor attempt at collecting yourself. The alcohol is starting to dull your senses so when you release the ball in your hand it veers left, just barely clipping the furthest pin and saving you from another shot.

“You can still spare,” Bradley remarks and you glare daggers into him as you line up again. The sound of his soft chuckle only makes you frown harder and Mickey calls out from behind him.

“Hit them with the trick shot!” You turn around, your attention now on him as you consider his words. The trick shot in question is something you coined back in college when you and Mickey were out with his team and someone challenged the group to a round of bowling with a catch. Every shot had to be embellished in some kind of ostentatious and ridiculous way. The game had quickly devolved into chaos but you’d patented what went on to become your signature move.

“Trick shot?!” Javy exclaims. “Now we have to see it!” Then there’s a chorus of drunk hockey players chanting at you to show off the trick shot and you roll your eyes before you step back and slide your bowling shoes over the slick floor, testing the resistance. You should be able to pull it off even though it’s been years. You take a deep breath and bring the bowling ball up to your chest as your friends start to cheer. Despite your tipsy state, in college you mastered being able to keep alcohol from affecting your skating technique so as you push into the spin that’s almost a pirouette letting the weight of the ball steady your center of gravity before you slide forward on your shoes across the slippery ground, extending your arm clutching the ball in a ramrod straight position and releasing the ball. You watch as it takes the speed your spin charged it with and barrels straight down the center of the lane before colliding with a satisfying crack and you smirk as the pins tumble in a wave. Behind you, the guys are going crazy and the girls are cheering. You’re about to turn and rub it in Bradley’s face when he scoops you up from behind, burying his face in your neck as he whispers into your ear.

“That’s my girl,” and you feel your cheeks heat as you lean into his touch before leaning up to whisper back in his ear.

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” His laugh vibrates through his chest against your back.

“Challenge accepted, Honey. What do I get if I win?” You can hear the tease in his voice as it rumbles against the shell of your ear and you suppress a shudder.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” you say, voice saccharine sweet, batting your lashes up at him. “Of course, the same goes if I win.”

“Deal,” Bradley says before turning you in his arms so he can kiss you and you can taste the alcohol on his tongue. You hear wolf whistles from behind you that you’re sure are Javy and Mickey as your cheeks heat slightly. Bradley rolls his eyes and pulls you back so the next people can take their turns, not letting you out of his arms quite yet.

***

You smirk across the packed booth at Bradley where he’s sulking over a beer. You’d moved on to a local karaoke bar you’d been to with Mickey and Bob before after the bowling concluded. Jake won for the boys and you won for the girls, Bradley trailing you by a measly two points. He was currently soothing the loss with alcohol as the others excitedly made their karaoke selections. His ruddy cheeks tell you he’s made up for his lack of shots during bowling and you gaze at him fondly thinking of the last time you saw him drunk. You bring a hand up to rub at your long-since-healed jaw and you catch Bradley’s eye as he flushes deeper at the memory.

“Zam, what are you going to sing?” A drunk Mickey interrupts your moment, thrusting the list at you but Bradley plucks it from his grasp, scrawling down his suggestion as your eyes widen with surprise. He’s drunk enough to let his guard down. You’ve heard him sing before, of course, but that was in the privacy of his car and along with the radio. You never pegged Bradley as a performer when it comes to music but absently you remember the baby grand piano in his living room that you’d written off as merely ostentatious decoration. He gets to his feet without a second glance and takes the list back up to the front, ignoring Mickey’s protests that you haven’t signed up yet. He pushes over to where Jake and Javy are arguing over who’s going first and takes charge of the kiosk as they gape at him. You're all watching Bradley with varying degrees of surprise as the alcohol in his veins fuels this bout of confidence.

He grips the microphone, ascending the small stage next to the bar you danced on the last time you were here as the familiar opening guitar riff of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meatloaf fills the bar and he fixes a hard gaze on you as you realize what he has in mind and you smile, nodding at him.

“Well, I remember every little thing as if it only happened only yesterday,” your crowd of friends erupt into rowdy cheers as Bradley croons into the microphone. He reaches out to crook a finger at you and you bounce to your feet, reaching him just in time for him to lean down with the microphone so you can join the harmonies.

“Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light.” He reaches his free hand down to you to help you onto the stage before passing you the microphone.

“Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed, 'cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed.” You sing as he grabs the second microphone. You know it’s an almost nine-minute song but Bradley doesn’t show any signs of slowing as you join the performance, your friends going wild from the table.

Mickey brings you both a glass of water as the spoken interlude takes over and the two of you refresh before the next part of the song. You hand him back the glass just in time for you to take the lead.

“Stop right there! I gotta know right now! Before we go any further! Do you love me?” You meet Bradley’s eyes with a fiery gaze as you crow the lyrics. “Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?” You see something shift in his eyes through the alcohol-induced haze as you continue. “Do you love me!? Will you love me forever!? Do you need me!? Will you never leave me!? Will you make me happy for the rest of my life!? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife!? I gotta know right now. Before we go any further, do you love me!? Will you love me forever!?” You step up to him, getting into his face as a part of your performance as your friends lose their minds and the other patrons cheer. Bradley nods softly and it steals your breath as he takes over.

“Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning. Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning. Let me sleep on it baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning.” The intensity in his eyes as he falls to his knees is at odds with the words he’s singing and you know he’s promising the opposite of his words as you continue to play your part, tossing the words from earlier back at him in a back and forth.

“Will you love me forever?” You demand.

“Let me sleep on it.” He begs.

“Will you love me forever!” You can’t keep the grin off your face.

Bradley gets off his knees and you feel your heart catch as he crows the next part, his voice blowing you away. “I couldn't take it any longer, Lord I was crazed. And when the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave, I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave that I would love you to the end of time. I swore that I would love you to the end of time!” Your heart flutters at the sweet words falling from his lips as you watch him with awe and you wonder if this is the Bradley that Logan, Alex, and Wyatt knew in Philadelphia. “So now I'm praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive 'cause if I gotta spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive. I'll never break my promise or forget my vow, but God only knows what I can do right now.” His amber eyes burn into you and you can’t help but simply stand in awe of him. “I'm praying for the end of time, it's all that I can do. Praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you!” The crowd does wild and you join them before joining Bradley for the last few bars as the song faded away in true 70s fashion. The crowd in the bar roars as Bradley takes you in his arms and kisses you hard, dipping you in front of the crowd and the whoops and cheers echo off the walls. This feels like a beginning, a new chapter and you’re excited to see where it goes as your teammates storm the stage, tackling the two of you with hugs and more cheers. You laugh and you don’t remember the last time your heart felt so light. Looking over at Bradley you can see the same thing expressed in his eyes and you feel like you’re finally home.

***

“It’s pink,” Bradley says for what must be the fifth time and you nod yet again. He’s gazing at the fabric spread out on the bed.

“Technically it’s salmon,” you point out and he just gapes at you. You shrug, not an ounce of mercy in your eyes. “A deal’s a deal, Brashaw.” You watch the fear grip his features before you push up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re going to look amazing.”

It’s New Year’s Eve and spirits are high at the arena. The boys are playing their last game of the year tonight and the locker room is buzzing. The boys have tomorrow off since the only game on New Year’s Day is the Winter Classic. You’re waiting patiently outside the locker room for Bradley. You hear a crow of pure delight from Javy on the other side of the door and you smirk as you imagine his reaction. A few moments later the door swings open and Javy’s wearing a feral smile as he wraps you in a hug.

“I love you, you know that right? It’s like Christmas all over again!” You roll your eyes as you hug him back. The door swings open again and Bradley appears, his cheeks ruddy and matching the salmon suit that makes him cut a dashing figure. His eyes widen as he sees that you’re dressed in a similar shade, the suit new, and you smile at him shyly.

“I thought we could match,” you say with a shrug and he smiles softly for the first time all night. He’s forgone a tie and his shirt is slightly open, exposing his throat and a sliver of his chest that makes your heart flutter in your chest. His curls are perfectly styled and his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides let you know he’s making an active effort to not run them through his hair. “You look so handsome,” you compliment him as you cross over to wrap your arms around him and his cheeks turn red for a different reason. His relaxes a little under your touch but you can tell he’s still uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable,” you whisper so just he can hear, guilt gnawing at your chest slightly even as you’re elated that he complied. After losing at bowling the other day, Bradley was at your mercy to do whatever you wanted. Likely he expected it to be something sexual as the two of you can barely keep your hands off each other these days, but you’d surprised him by asking him to let you choose his suit for their next game. You claimed it was retribution for how much he used to hate your suits, to which he reminded you was no longer his opinion on them.

He wraps his arms around you in return, burying his nose in your neck as he strokes your back gently. “Are you happy?” He asks and it’s genuine. You nod against him.

“Very,” you feel his lips tilt up into a smile against your skin.

“Then I’m okay.” He says and your heart aches. He pulls away and bumps your nose against his, gently. “Shall we go?” You nod, and the locker room door swings open and the other guys start filtering out in their suits. Jake’s eyes soften as he takes in the two of you.

“You guys look adorable,” he compliments, fishing out his phone to snap a picture and Bradley doesn’t argue.

“Oh my god, you guys!” Bugs exclaims as he comes around the corner, hearts in her eyes as she takes in your matching outfits.

“We have to do that sometime.” Jake agrees as he finishes with his pictures. Bugs agrees enthusiastically. “And you need to wear his jersey sometime,” Jake points out to you.

“Oh don’t worry, I have,” you say with a cheeky smile that makes Javy whoop with excitement even as Bradley squeezes your waist. The guys start moving to go get their photos taken before the pre-game press and you lean your head against Bradley’s shoulder. “Good luck, tonight.” You murmur and he leans to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have my good luck charm, I’ll be fine.” You giggle at that and he pulls you close.

***

Laughter and music are echoing off the walls of Jake’s house. The living room is full of teammates and their families with a combination of children and animals weaving between legs. After the game, everyone met up here to welcome the new year before they’ll eventually head out to enjoy having New Year's Day off. You’re standing in Bradley’s arms, listening to Bob explain the myth of Alaska having six months of darkness. You glance up and you can tell that Bradley’s far away so you gently tug on his sleeve and lead him out the back door to get some air. Jake’s backyard opens out onto a semi-private beach and you slip your hand into Bradley’s as the two of you make your way across the sand. You ditched your heels by the door ages ago and the sand feels cool under your feet. You can’t help but remember the last two times you and Bradley found yourself on the beach as you’re drawn towards the water.

The water is cold as it laps as your toes and you skirt back as Bradley stares wordlessly out at the sea. “Everything okay?” You ask softly as he turns at your words. There’s something you can’t place in his eyes and you’re about to push him gently for an answer when he drops to one knee and your eyes widen. “Bradley. Bradshaw.” Your voice is shaking as you admonish him. His eyes are soft as he squeezes your joined hands.

“I’m not proposing,” he assures you and you let out a shaky breath, “not yet.” He says with a brazen, boyish grin and it steals the breath from your lungs. “But I do want to make you a promise, because you’re it for me, Honey. There’s no one I’ve ever loved more than I love you and like I told you, you’re my family. I will always stand by you and protect you. You’re my everything, and one day I’m going to ask you to be my wife.” Your eyes are full of tears as this perfect man is once again on his knees for you, offering you the whole world. “There’s nothing in my life that’s more important to me. Not myself, not hockey. I don’t believe in fate, but I feel like our moms masterminded this and sent us to each other. I’ve never been so thankful, that I get to love you in this lifetime. A few months ago I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to live anymore and now I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather do than spend every single day I possibly can with you.” He lets go of your hand then, reaching down to shape the damp sand beside him and you smile through the tears cascading down your cheeks as he makes the little sandman, shaping the body and then scooping up twigs and fragments of shells to adorn it. The surf licks up, dampening his pants where he kneels but he’s undeterred. When he finally dusts off his hands after, he stands taking both your hands in his. “You’re my dream, Honey, and I think it’s going to be the sweetest one I’ve ever had.” You smile at him and as he kisses you, you think he might be right.

A/N: Aaaaaaa it’s over!!! It’s over???? I can’t believe it… what a ride this has been… Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this crazy journey… it feels insane to think that we’re at the end. To think that this is the length of a novel blows my mind… YCMBWH has gone through so many changes and I’m so proud of what it became. Hearing all of your love for the series truly helped make it what it is and I’m thankful to every person that read it. I know a lot of new people have joined us on this ride through this fic and I’m so happy to have you all aboard! I hope you’ll hang around for what else the SDDU has in store. I’ll never get tired of writing about these characters 💚💛🩶

#you catch more bees with honey // sdd #ycmbwh // sdd #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters hockey au #top gun maverick hockey au #san diego daggers hockey au #tgm hockey au #top gun Maverick #top gun #TGM #Bradley Bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley rooster Bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x you #no use of y/n

[daegutowns]

svt as your hogwarts boyfriend

tags: hogwarts au, gn!reader

gryffindor: seungcheol, hoshi, chan 

seungcheol: quidditch team beater, quidditch team captain

prepare to be sick of him!! 

very competitive, so match days are always so big for him

if you’re not dripped out in gryffindor colors (regardless of which house you’re in), it’s over. he’ll be so pouty and whiny

“baby, it’s match day. why are you not wearing your custom made quidditch jersey i made for you?”  

“don’t talk to me, you’re wearing [house other than gryffindor] colors. nope, obviously you don’t wish me good luck.” 

big bad quidditch team captain has nothing on his lover 

says he plays better when you’re cheering for him 

claims he’s mcgonagall’s best student

he’s actually very good at transfigurations

he wants to be an auror one day, so this is just a step in the process

mcgonagall actually does adore him

very protective of his quidditch team members and would gladly start a fight to defend any one of them (hot-headed but won’t admit it) 

always says he’ll buy you anything, no matter how many galleons he has to spend

actually gets upset if you try to pay for your own chocolate frog on the train

the type to always want to sit next to you if you share a class together (except potions)

hoshi: quidditch team chaser 

he is mr. horanghae…. mr. quidditch is in my blood…. mr. tiger chaser 

his plans are to become a professional quidditch team player

the british national quidditch team coach has already scouted him out

genuinely a quidditch prodigy, since he’s a muggleborn wizard. just picked up a quaffle and was an instant baller 

mcgonagall’s pride and joy…. she lives and breathes quidditch 

he has nothing else going on for him academically, really -- just trying to pass and that’s it lol 

snape hates his guts. didn’t even have to do much, really 

only asks for quidditch stuff for his birthday

he loves when you shout out nonsense stuff like “get ‘em tiger!” or “horanghae!” or “tiger’s gaze!” during the quidditch match. it’s soooo embarrassing for you but it actually gets him fired up 

the type to fall asleep in class and then ask you for notes afterwards 

chan: 

he wants to be on the quidditch team starting line so bad, but he’s been benched… then injured… then benched again… 

but he’s, like, lowkey highkey very good at defense against the dark arts??? 

like, conjured a patronus at the age of 12 kind of good

comes from a family of aurors (his dad’s side), so this kind of just runs in his blood 

he offers to tutor you in it because it’s his greatest passion in life 

of course, he’ll need some tutoring in all the other subjects…. snape has lit his ass on fire (metaphorically, for legal purposes) due to many badly made, strange potions he’s made 

hufflepuff: dk, mingyu, seungkwan, vernon 

mingyu: quidditch team beater 

of course this big puppy is a hufflepuff! but, he’s the most gryffindor-like hufflepuff ever

even the sorting hat had trouble placing him in the correct house, but ultimately chose hufflepuff 

he honestly didn’t even know if he should be trying out for the quidditch team, but dk brought him there and he barely even had to struggle at tryouts

his big frame and strong arms make him an excellent beater

he still has a fear of heights, he just forgets about it during quidditch (like what)

he loves when you praise him for his quidditch skills, especially after a particularly hard practice or grueling game 

he just wants to be held in your arms near the fireplace, is that too much to ask for ?!?!?!!?!!

surprisingly very smart at most subjects too, especially potions

the only thing he struggles with is herbology (like wtf would he be doing near all these screaming plants or oozing flowers????) 

kind of based for a hufflepuff to not be good at herbology bc of professor sprout but alas…. 

he loves care of magical creatures, because he’s like a dog -- just friends with everyone 

he’s kind of like the cedric diggory type ngl -- well liked, friendly, athletic, smart 

the type to want to walk around the castle holding hands all the time 

deekay: quidditch team chaser 

the most stereotypical hufflepuff ever 

so kind, so loyal, so hardworking, so….. 

the happy virus, sunshine, rainbows shooting out of his ass kind of guy

seriously, there’s not one hufflepuff that doesn’t love him 

he plans on becoming a charms professor at hogwarts one day! 

he’s soooo good at charms 

so much so that girls around hogwarts giggle and call him a charmer

like he got people blushing n shit 

turned down the offer to become captain because it was a lot of pressure! he is still going to be the next quidditch team captain next year. 

he simply did not have a choice in this matter 

loves going to hogsmeade and sitting in the three broomsticks with his friends laughing because it’s so cozy. he wants to live in that feeling forever 

the type to send you a love letter by owl on valentines day to watch your reaction while you sit with your friends 

seungkwan: hogwarts choir soprano 

he is THE boo seungkwan of the hogwarts choir! 

professor flitwick (the conductor of the choir) is always amazed at his performance ability. seungkwan has never Not had a solo in the hogwarts annual christmas choir performance 

likes to watch quidditch practices while he does his divination essays 

he feels like it gives them a certain vibe while he makes up dreams about his imaginary rabbit dying for trelawney 

if dk was everyone’s crush, seungkwan is everyone’s friend

there’s no table he’s not welcome to sit at, and definitely no house that would turn him away

the most social butterfly in hogwarts, even more so than the weasley twins

his networking capabilities is insane, but necessary for his life path 

he wants to work in the ministry of magic, close to the minister of magic 

this requires lots of connections! he wants to collect those wizard society inductions like pokemon cards 

the type to ask you to come to his birthday party as a special guest but he actually invited half the castle and dumbledore 

vernon: 

he’s just here for the vibes 

very seriously collecting all the chocolate frog cards. if you see one, please check with vernon to see if he has it or not. he’ll give away the ones he doesn’t need and is always willing to trade

please help him. this is his life’s goal right now

is really good at quidditch but doesn’t really vibe with organized sports, so he just comes to tryouts to play with other people

tried to start a recreational interhouse quidditch team to play outside of the house matches but it turned messy so he gave up 

really good at herbology and care of magical creatures! he just understands 

not sure what he wants to do in the future, but he’s honestly down for whatever

the type to ask you if you’re free for a date and then forget, so you both end up just asking the house elves in the kitchen for food 

ravenclaw: jun, wonwoo, woozi

jun: quidditch team chaser  

another person who is just here for the ride

just naturally gifted at a lot of subjects, so he doesn’t really study that much for the exams either. it really makes other people mad

once you asked him for help in a class (“jun, why is this the right answer?”) and he just gave too vague answers (“that’s just the order the things are put in.”) that you just kind of gave up 

will definitely be asleep in class if you let him 

history of magic is spent 90% of the time with his head on the desk sleeping away zzz

sometimes just gets really sleepy, what can he say???

a really good chaser, but just plays quidditch because it’s fun

he goes to practice because games/matches are more fun when you’re actually good at playing 

self-dubbed “arthur wen of quidditch”

what does it mean??? you will have to ask him yourself

the type to sneak you into his bed on friday nights so you can spend all weekend cuddling together

wonwoo: prefect  

what an absolute heartthrob

he’s not really a man of many words, so he was genuinely surprised when he became a prefect for his house 

is actually a very understanding and caring prefect

he doesn’t really like taking points away from other houses or giving out detentions and only uses it as a last resort 

you can usually find him reading novels/writing essays in the library (madam pince is very enamored with him) or playing wizard chess in the ravenclaw common room

he’s VERY good at wizard’s chess

if he could be a professional wizard’s chess player, he would.

ron weasley has nothing on jeon wonwoo

a lot of younger ravenclaws like asking him questions because he always explains things so thoroughly and patiently

tutors younger students in other houses for extra money -- fellow ravenclaws free of charge! -- and sends it to his family 

wants to be a professor at hogwarts but still isn’t sure which subject he wants to teach. he figures he could be a librarian like madam pince if he were allowed to be

the type to gift you a new book on christmas every year and highlight/annotate things that reminded him of you 

woozi: 

also legendary in the hogwarts choir

he arranges all the pieces for both the choir and band

wants to be a professional wizard producer and music writer

once got to meet the weird sisters and got a random muggle t-shirt signed by them that he carries like his most prized possession

other than that, he just like hanging out with you, his friends, and going to the quidditch matches whenever ravenclaw plays 

he’s not really that interested in other house matches unless it’s an important one that affects ravenclaw 

he tries to be interested in your house’s matches too (if you’re not a ravenclaw) but you can tell he would rather not 

tends to befriend a lot of gryffindors (like seungcheol and hoshi) for some reason unknown to even himself 

the type to write poems to you when he gets bored in class 

slytherin: jeonghan, joshua, hao

jeonghan: prefect

oh, don’t even try to mess with him, because he will get you back and worse 

definitely takes advantage of his prefect status way more than he should, but rules are meant to be bent 

sneaks you into the prefect bathroom because “you shouldn’t have to take a bath with the rest of the normies” or so he says. 

likes pranks and practical jokes, so he often turns a blind eye to the weasley twins when they stir up trouble 

they have an unspoken partnership

weasley twins don’t prank him, jeonghan doesn’t snitch on them 

it’s honestly a win-win for both of them. 

he’s really good at charms

this is mostly because it teaches you shortcuts of how to do everyday things but just faster and lazier with magic 

his favorite is using the duplication charm to make copies of polaroids he took with you so both of you can have a copy of it 

he likes messing with the younger students and getting them to loosen up (like what are they always so serious for?) with him + reminding people when to have fun (but also when to buckle up!) 

the type to ask you on a date to three broomsticks and then prank you into thinking he forgot his wallet in his room 

joshua: head boy 

classic head boy vibes from a gentle sexy. jk he is so chaotic, but no one really expects it from him until after he gets all these privileges 

you want a permit to paint a brick pink? just a single brick? okay done.

you want to rearrange the quidditch trophies by most to least impressive accomplishment? okay done. 

you want to take a date walking around the castle while he patrols the hallways? okay done. 

he lives for the things that are ambiguously not breaking the rules but definitely not abiding by them either 

kind of athletic (grew up playing quidditch in his neighborhood around the other wizard children) but never liked it enough to actually play for the team

it’s way too competitive + he wants more time for you. it’s already hard enough with all the head boy stuff 

also was in the hogwarts band but then it was too much work so he only did it for a year 

very gifted in potions and transfigurations! 

he always wants you to teach him the more boring subjects like history of magic since he always finds himself doodling instead of listening or dozing off in that class

his dream is to become a healer at st. mungo’s hospital for magical maladies

likes to tease you that you’re mrs. head boy 

he treats you like you’re the first lady and he’s the president. it’s a very american way of thinking, but then again, he is american. 

if he catches you doing bad stuff, you’re legally required to write him a love letter. it’s the rules. no detention, no points taken away from your house. just a nice love letter. 

the type to let you dress/style him for all your dates because he wants to have matching outfits always

hao: quidditch team seeker

he’s actually one of the most popular people in slytherin house due to his insane skills as seeker

his catch rate is insane, like he can sniff out the snitch on the field

he’s already set to play for the national team in the U20 league and for the montrose magpies (the british-irish quidditch league team with the most wins)

his knack for flying was discovered during their first year flying class with madam hooch. after the class, she spoke with snape and set him up to shadow the quidditch team to be on the starting lineup starting his second year

he pretends like he doesn’t care if you come support his matches or not but is always visibly happy when you do

the times when you can’t because you’ve got a big essay due the next day or you’re sick is when he pretends he doesn’t mind (because you gotta focus on yourself too!) 

his favorite subject is divination (because he really vibes with the tea leaf readings)

but, his best subject is astronomy. he’s the best student as has been the best student in astronomy out of your entire year (all 7 years!) 

the type to ask you if you want to share your scarf while you walk around the castle together 

#daegutowns #svt hogwarts au #hp au #seventeen #svt #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #slytherin #kpop hogwarts au #vaguely golden trio era #svt quidditch team players #kind of obessed ngl #svt boyfriend au #this is supposed to be in britain still #svt x reader #svt x y/n #svt x you

[operationslipperypuppet]

Naddpod Carnegie based on what I can remember, post-show euphoria comedown. (That’s more for me so I can remember it later)

The music was played by a quintet, and the director was Emily’s brother, Brian. They were incredible.

Music started early and people talked through a lot of it but it was all incredible. When they played Kingshammer, everyone lost their shit after one note. When they finished we freaked out. We were correct to do this.

The whole two crew was dressed up and looked so great! Murph’s jacket was bedazzled.

The band stayed on stage for the show and played music under moments of it as it happened.

We started with the Boobs. They were nominated for the hit awards show, the Batubies, 5 years after the fall of Thiala. Bev was wearing a too-tight bow tie and grew a bad mustache. Hardwons outfit matched what Jake was wearing. Moonshine wild shaped just her torso into a penguin (still with huge boobs). Paw Paw was covered in hair gel and grew a perfect mustache. They were all gunning for pawpaw to win, and the photographers only wanted to photograph him.

Balnor was the host. He was possessed by a joke book, dungeons and laughies. He had veneers and Hardwon and Moonshine wanted some as well. Hardwon filed his teeth down to prepare, Moonsshine opted to wait for a dentist. The boobs HATED Balnor’s jokes. He hissed at them when they tried to take his book. Moonshine admitted to maybe being attracted to hissing Balnor.

The awards show started with an in memoriam to certain villains they’d killed. They were described: Josh - thrown out a window by Moonshine, The Crag - beheaded by Bev after a beheading song/dance (I do not remember lol), Galad - beheaded by Hardwon and then resurrected and beheaded by hardwons mom (jake blows kiss to Lydia), The Bear Prince - killed by Moonshine then brought back as a zombie so he could be killed by Hardwon, who was trapped in honey the whole fight, Thiala - eaten by Moonshine.

Awards were as follows: A best dramatic acting - they played clips from the actual pod; Hardwon finding out about his parents, Bev trying to resurrect Erlin when Thiala killed Pelor, Moonshine’s “child has a duty to his father, hero has a duty to the world”, and Donkey Kong’s recap of the wars - DK won. The audience was confused. Moonshine and Hardwon were angry because “that wasn’t canon”. DK sent in a video acceptance speech. Pendergreens won best redemption arc and gave a speech about how good Bowflexes are, and then Ren won a free bow flex. Coach Bortram won best smite, murph thought he remembered his voice. He did not

Best hero was the boobs rescinding their nominations so Paw Paw could win. Balnor, possessed, gave it to Galad, resurrecting him. Paw Paw was the only one to escape a restraining spell, and fled the theater, chosen knights in hot pursuit. The Boobs were annoyed with Balnor and when he died onstage were called out by Cobb and MeeMaw for being mean. It was nice to have Cobb.

Outside, he found the Triplets and Keychain, who were arguing with the astral worm bouncer because they weren’t on the list and Onyx dressed as one of the “Stranger Kids” cast to try to get in. (Murph still DMing, Caldwell as Keychain.) They wanted to kill Paw Paw (thought he was a weird dog) and were ready to fight the Chosen over it. Paw Paw rolled a nat 20 initiative, and ran again. Nyack killed 2 knights, Onyx killed 3 others. They got VIP passes and headed inside the theater, Onyx hitting on the astral worm along the way.

Paw Paw then found the Third Mates in a bar. Zirk drank windex, poisoned himself, and Fia and Hank also drank Windex. They talked about having Windex visions and seeing Windex Goblins. Paw Paw was familiar with the ladder. Bukvar could talk to Paw Paw and translated his distress to the Third Mates. He also asked why they drank Windex. Murph said that the bartender said “this only really sounds like one of you” and looked past zirk, very clearly calling out human man Caldwell. It was beautiful. They were ready to act, healed from poison by Paw Paw giving them water. Balnors evil book attacked, and Hank and Shank took it out in one turn, doing over 100 damage with an action surge. Murph was pleasantly shocked. Fia was able to use the disenchanted book to learn the spell to free everyone in the theater They then followed Paw Paw back to the theater.

Inside, everyone discovered that the Boobs had been kidnapped by Galad, who intended to use their blood to bring back Thiala. The only witnesses to this were our beloved Duck Team, who did not get restrained but didn’t help because they were busy playing smash on a DS.

Balnor, back alive, asked everyone to come help. There was some discussion over whether the triplets would go.

He took all the heroes in the Stormborn to the mountains of Irondeep. The triplets took over the captains quarters and claimed they already had rewards accounts. They tried to order chicken caesar salads from Calder, who could only find lettuce. Hank was steering, worried about gunk in the wheel. Fia was warming up the canons, Callie was in the crows nest. Sol was in the sails, Zirk got stuck in the engine. It was glorious.

Once in irondeep, they found Galad looming over the tied up boobs, stealing Rosaline back. They rolled initiative based on the highest dex of any of their characters and could choose one to take a turn as. It was dope as hell. Order was Galad, Jake, Emily, Caldwell.

Galad used his first turn to kill Jens. Turned him to dust. Murph demanded a sad song play for his death, and he got Valiant Ol’ Cobb. (Beautiful orchestration. Un fucking earned). The remaining triplets then explained his best moments to Balnor, including asking Keychain if he was a blender and watching Friends with headphones but the subs on so others could read it. Nyack shot at Galad. Onyx smacked the shit out of Galad (with the help of a chronal shift). Galad used legendaries to hit and then power word kill Nyack. Nyack blamed Calder due to the fact he didn’t have chicken on his salad. The familiars freed the boobs. Zirk helped Bev use a “blue smite” (Windex reference) on Galad. Galad attacked and crit on Onyx. Hardwon smacked the shit out of Galad and killed him once again.

Paw Paw was then given the divine power Galad had and Murph said the audience could decide if he resurrected Nyack and Jens. It was a split vote. In the end, only Nyack was resurrected.

We then ended the show with a One Big Bed singalong. It was so wonderful and sweet and perfect.

All in all, it was a great fucking show. What an absolute gift. Here’s to 5 more years.

#naddpod #sorry for main tagging this but people might want to see it?? I did the read more for a reason. this long as hell. #naddpod Carnegie

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Chapter Three

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): strong language, suggestive language, guns/gun violence, death, gore/medical gore, blood, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I think this is my fav chapter so far, lemme know what y'all think... sorry if it's medically inaccurate but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ also the bastard finally has a name !!

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | playlist | ao3 ver. ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Vaded

“Squeeze trigger slow, don’t forget to breathe.” His fingers are overtaking yours, contorting yours so they’re using the proper form.

Even if you wanted to make a mistake, his frame was caging you in, stomach pressed deeply into the curve of your back. You do just that, firing at the glass jars lined up several feet away. Not a solid hit, but closer than the others.

Simon steps back, lowering the cock of the weapon for you. “You’re hesitating. There’s no time to hesitate or you’re dead.”

“I know that.” You spit back. The fluster of continually missing, as well as being dragged out here nearly every day was getting to you. Not to mention the heat of the sun beating down on you, successfully blinding any shot you take.

“Then do it properly,” He stands near the jars in front of you now, crossing his arms over his chest in impatience. “You think I have time to ponder when I’m holding a gun to someone’s head? I don’t. I shoot first.”

Such a prick—an insufferable prick at that. His words only escalated the sour mood you’d had during this whole morning of make-shift boot camp.

You raise the pistol again, lining up the sights and tracing along his figure being outlined by the rays of sunshine. You exhale like you’d been coached, jerking the sights to the jar closest to him and squeezing the trigger.

The mason jar explodes, laying askew on the pallets he’d set them up on. He doesn’t jump in surprise, or lose his composure.

“Better. You might actually have a chance… If he’s a statue.” His lack of reaction only pissed you off more, practically wiping any form of a smirk you had after your first lucky bullet. You switch the safety back on, for his well-being as much as your own, and toss the iron to him.

He catches it without a second thought, returning it to the sack of weapons he’d brought to train with. A week, and you’d just barely made it to pistols. Not to mention, on your toes the entire time because there’s been nothing but radio silence on your spouse. Not a letter, not a piece of mail, no sign of a tail—nothing.

He begins the drive back from the countryside, somewhere about an hour out of town where none of the trigger pulls would be heard. His eyes are glued to the unpaved road in front of him, as usual. One hand on the top of the wheel, and the other taking up the entirety of his center console, leaving you little room to breathe.

“I’d say, you’re ready to carry one.” Simon’s words nab your attention. “Just don’t shoot at me again, or you’re shit out of luck.”

You don’t doubt the power of carrying, but it’s new nonetheless.

Perhaps his harsh feedback held weight, and you ‘might’ have a chance in hell of defending yourself. Might—as in, nearly none at all.

Thank the stars for that insufferable prick, then, because whether you want to admit it or not, his services are needed.

—

The weight of the piece is something you’ll have to get used to.

You refused the hip holster, to Simon’s annoyance, of course. Instead, it’s going to remain tucked into your waistband, the icy metal of the .38 revolver digging into the soft flesh of your tailbone.

He’s in the shower now, where he usually spends about two minutes anyways, despite you packing now. Bullets were your words now, if necessary. This situation was past legalities, or forms, or numbing and intrusive questions in the courtroom.

Three sharp pounds on the front door, and you’re already at your feet. The shower shuts off, and Simon has walked out with a towel concealing his waist and already started for the door.

“Wait.” You’re looking through the peephole only greeted with the sight of a badge and an impatient officer. Simon steps back a bit, watching the encounter from the hallway as droplets run down his frame.

Once you’ve opened the door, the officer holds out some sort of form. The prospect of an officer at your door has prevented you from hearing his introduction or caring to take a look at the badge. The only words that find you are ‘husband’ and ‘defamation’.

He doesn’t bother to let you respond, just shoves the form onto the entry table and gives Simon a sickened glare. At first glance, probably thinking Simon is your side piece showering off after a night of adultery.

The officer has retreated down the steps of the complex, leaving you unable to process anything. Simon doesn’t say a word, just retreats to his room to finish dressing, as if there wasn’t almost a dead cop laying in the foyer.

Your hands shiver as you skim through the document, seated at the kitchen table. You couldn’t believe the bastard—cops and judges already on his payroll, coming up with some bogus claim of defamation—all while you’re left with no evidence of the latter.

He’s returned quickly, resting his palms on the table as he soaks in the information. “You’re not going to that trial.” The paper is taken from your fingers, forcing you out of your discomposure.

“I’ll go to prison if I don’t show, Simon.” You respond quickly, wondering what the hell he’s getting you roped into.

“No, you’ll be dead.” He leads, the palms on the table turning to tight fits. “Once you’re in the courtroom, he’ll have access to you, or whatever shitty motel you’ll be staying in for months. You’re not going.” His commands are nearing that of a hardened soldier.

“This is my life you’re talking about. I can’t just pack up and run from the federal government. He’s not going to kill me, he’s going to try and put me in jail, then throw away the key.” Your tone has heightened, but his hasn’t.

He takes a few steps back from the table as if trying not to blow his top. “You’re hiding out in a shitty apartment, sobbing in the middle of supermarkets, and you’re confident in that assessment?”

“If he wanted you in jail, he would’ve planted evidence on you. I’ll repeat myself. You’re not going.” Simon sighs sharply, trying to calm himself again. “We need to get out of this apartment for now, before more police poke around and find you packing heat.”

The lack of decor, luggage still in the corner, non-perishables you’d bought—all for the inevitable moment he finds you. That moment was here, and now you were packing it all away. Somehow the place looked less pitiful with it all packed away and stuffed into his backseat.

—

You were somewhere in the countryside, only in the opposite direction of the shooting range you were at that morning. He hadn’t stopped once during the long ride and wasn’t planning to. You were in a small town before you knew it—someplace you’d never heard of, and probably with a population that doesn’t reach triple digits.

The barren landscape you were passing in the near forties seemed to continue forever. The endless crop and winding paths would provide cover, but the scenarios playing in your head depicted worse.

The entirety of the town was in a cluster—a few gas pumps, a motel, a pharmacy, and a diner—all of which much older than you’d been alive, visibly decaying under years of neglect.

His truck rolled to a stop, parking in the empty lot of the motel. You two seemed to be the only ones rooming in this apocalyptic townlet, and you were grateful for that, at least. He retreated into the office and returned holding a key to your room.

You climbed out, retrieving the duffel that had your entire life packed into it. His bag of weapons was slung over his shoulder, and he carried it as if the weight had no effect. He’d stayed quiet the whole trip, and it continued well into entering the shared space.

Two beds, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Nicer than you expected, albeit the exterior painted a different picture earlier.

Your stiff limbs freed themselves when you sprawled out on the bed you claimed, remaining in disbelief of the situation at hand. You were on the run again, but this time not from him—from the law. How long could this go on? Living in motels, with an overbearing male roommate? Especially one without a sense of humor; the spiteful cherry on top.

He closed the curtains with a jerk, forcing you to stare at the dated floral pattern they had, instead of the secluded view outside. There was no time for error, especially when it was someone other than the law to figure out you’d skipped town.

Just when you’ve begun to close your eyes, he’s loudly rifling through the luggage sitting on the floor, muttering curses under his breath. You sit up in bed in a huff, glaring into his back. Finally, he pulls out the bottle of Kentucky, pouring himself a generous glass, before thumping it down onto the faux-granite counter.

“Seriously?” You sigh, sitting yourself up on your arms.

He takes a few seconds, savoring the burn running down his throat. “Gonna need it. Helps me focus.”

“We’ll need to pick up a few things at that pharmacy, so get up.” There’s no chance in hell he’s leaving you here alone, despite the store only being a few blocks away. Bickering only greeted you with an icy glare, so you grumbled to your feet, slipping into the jacket you’d removed only minutes before.

In usual fashion, he’s a few steps behind you, watching the few people that are out and about at the moment, most of which are retirement age.

You’re inside the pharmacy now, practically tapping your foot at him as he grabs the supplies you two might need. More non-perishables as well as a small kit used for camping. It was clear to you this little “road trip” wasn’t going to end soon—and he was quite used to being on the run.

As soon as he’s placed the bills on the checkout counter, you’ve exited the store, nearly skipping back to his truck. He begins the short drive back, but his eyes keep darting between the rearview mirror and over his shoulder.

“We have a tail.” He snarls, continuing to divert further from town. “I’m gonna make sure we lose it.”

His words make your hairs stand, whatever the hell he meant by that was nothing pretty. He was getting further from town, so whatever his plans were needed absolutely no witnesses.

“Gun?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at the black Mercedes creeping closer.

He nods, still frantically assessing his four corners. The road signs have disappeared again, and you’re back to crops and trucking warehouses. You lift yourself off the seat a bit, retrieving the revolver you previously had tucked away. You check the cylinder, indeed seeing six bullets loaded inside—bullets he’d filed X’s into the tips himself—they “blew a nastier hole” that way, according to him.

It’s in your lap now, as you bounce around from his speed increase. The tail does the same, nearly bumper to bumper with his trunk now. Simon diverts, trying to ensure it can’t clip it, but the unpaved road before you is already unsteady enough when you’re going straight.

The Mercedes clips into the side of his truck, but the size difference between the cars only causes it to swerve. Simon turns abruptly, making the tail believe he’s taking a right. In reality, he swerves left, causing the confused driver to go straight into the metal fence lining the road.

You only see the wreckage briefly; crushed hood, steam rising from the hood, and no further movement from the driver.

He slams the brakes, pulling off to the side. He pulls out his much larger caliber pistol, slamming the truck door behind him. He’s gone to make sure he finishes the job.

Your fingers find the lock button, about to hear that click, when the passenger door is whipped open, and you’re face down in the gravel before you know it. Your gun is askew somewhere, having been ripped from your hands.

The assailant's fingers dig into your scalp, forcing you to kneel on the sharp pebbles. He’s surely one of the men your husband hired. His nose is busted, and there are small shards of glass embedded in his face that he’s too determined to mind.

This was the moment fate caught up with you, just like you’d thought it would. Either with you dead in your apartment, or staring down the barrel of a gun like you are now—disarmed and on your knees execution-style.

He cocks it, pressing the metal into your temple.

The unmistakable crack of a gunshot echoes through the countryside, causing both of you to jump in surprise. Had Simon been ambushed? Was he already bleeding out in the dirt?

He seems to think the same, a lordly smirk spreading, revealing his bloodied teeth. You snap your eyes to the stars above you. His leer is not going to be the last thing you see—the night sky would be.

The ring in your ears is louder than the gunshot itself. Warm sprinkles have splattered across you now, dripping down your neck. But you’re not dead. Not clenching a bullet hole either. You have to look down to be sure, examining your body with sanguine hands.

Instead, it’s the man with a hole in his head crumbled in front of you, still your pistol in his dead fingers. The ringing subsides, but your eardrums are muffled slightly like you’ve just had your head underwater.

“Bastard got me,” Simon stumbles back, making you sigh in relief, “—came out of the fuckin’ backseat, didn’t see him.” He’s sputtering, putting a flat palm against the stab wounds on his stomach, while the other is against the door of the truck.

You use the truck for support as well, feeling the stray pebbles that were still digging into your knees, not to mention the crimson seeping into the fabric of your clothes, sticking to you. You snatch your pistol back, stuffing it back into your waistband.

He’s barely upright now. An uncanny sight at best, seeing him struggle to hold his own weight.

“We need to… Clean this up…” He takes his palm off the truck, but it’s returned when he nearly stumbles again. He’s fighting himself, forcing himself to be the one in charge here. Simon glowers down at his abdomen, lifting the saturated fabric. It’s worse than you expected, not in the deepness of the punctures, but how much blood he lost in the scuffle.

You can tell he wants to speak, to give you some sort of instruction, but the pants coming from him are too severe. He slides down the truck, leaning against the large tire for support. He’s gone even paler than usual—you can tell through the eyes of his mask.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, at least. But it won’t be soon if you don’t do something.

It’s a blur; grunting and using all your might to put the dead man into the bed of the truck. You open the door to the backseat, finding the foil blanket in the camping kit Simon bought. You cover the bed, so his corpse looks like nothing more than a lump of firewood, or hay, or something other than what it is.

The skinny flashlight finds its way between your teeth, as you scoop and kick the dirt around to cover up the blood. The storm clouds forming are your only hope of washing away any evidence of this bloodbath. You shine the light on the side of the car, where some of the splatter had cast. You wipe it away with your sleeve, leaving only small traces of it.

Finally, it shined on him. A half-conscious Simon, who you can barely lift into the truck. He gives a little way, but your arms are putty by the end of the ordeal. He’s slumped in the seat, and you haven’t bothered to buckle him in.

You climb inside the driver’s seat, reversing quickly to make it back to the motel. The lack of guests will make patching him up easier, but the prospect of what unfolded is not providing much comfort. You’re speeding down the strip of unpaved road, eventually greeted by the few street lights illuminating the town.

You slow when you reach the parking space, claiming the one directly across from your room, so transporting Simon is easier. Luckily, the few residents that live there have retreated in for the night, leaving no prying eyes around.

You palm his pockets, locating the room key. There’s no time for slippery fingers or trembling hands. You make way for yourself and him by opening the door first, then pulling him out of the truck. He’s putting as much weight on himself as he can, but you’re left to do most of the literal heavy lifting.

Simon was otiosely dropped onto his bed, left to writhe only for a few seconds while you grabbed the rest of the camping kit from the backseat. When you return and lock the doors behind you, you’re quick to dig through the luggage for pieces of clothing. Ones you can put underneath his torso to prevent the mess his wounds are going to make.

You fish the knife he kept in his pocket out, cutting through the soaked t-shirt fabric. It glides off easily, allowing your amateur eyes to feast on the punctures. They aren’t deep, clearly not done with enough force to do serious internal damage, but there’s enough for the blood loss to be his biggest problem.

Simon must’ve finished him off before he could rough him up more—you could tell by how jagged the last stab was—like the man’s blade had been ripped away hastily.

“The bourbon…” He murmurs, bringing the bottle to your attention. Something you’ll be able to use. The self-medication that was slowly killing him might just be his saving grace.

You zip to the counter, unscrewing the cap from the bottle. He nods his head, bracing himself like he’s been through his a hundred times. He probably has, for all you know. The fawn-tinted liquid sizzles at his wounds, both disinfecting and irritating the reddened, puffy flesh.

He’s gritting his teeth under the mask, clenching one of the towels you laid out for dear life. Still, handling the pain better than you expected. You, on the other hand, were minutes from spewing.

The blood was coming out faster than you could keep up with, and no matter how many times you dug through that camping kit, it was only small bandages and ointment. You had no choice, you had to get to that pharmacy.

First, you’re hunched over the sink, scrubbing away the crimson coating you. You take off your jacket, ridding yourself of your bloodied clothes. One of his hoodies will have to do, and it will cover the remnants remaining in your hair. From how squeamish the sight was making you, you could swear you were paler than the man actively bleeding out.

Next, you’re out the door again, darting down the slick streets. Those storm clouds you saw earlier had begun to rain down on you. Good for the crime scene miles away, but not for your joints. That taste of blood, pinching in your side as you forced yourself to keep going, closing in on the pharmacy eventually.

Heaving in the first-aid aisle, grabbing any sterile gauze you see, then a box of gloves. Of course, the selection is limited. The townsfolk probably aren’t playing mob doctor like you are right now.

Once you’ve made uneducated guesses on what to get, it’s like you’re reminded of the dying man in your hotel room. There’s no time to pay, and no active cameras—no time to question the logistics of it all. Besides, the geriatric clerk barely gave you a passing glance when you stormed inside.

You’re out the back door, looping around the building until you’re back on the sidewalk again, racing with the supplies hooked under your arm. You’ve only been away minutes, but those were precious minutes where he could’ve hemorrhaged even more.

The rain putters heavily, coating your lashes like it did in the parking lot of the supermarket, daring you to stumble in disorientation.

You fiddle with the key, nearly kicking the door down when it struggles. It gives way eventually, and you’ve slammed it, already sitting on the edge of the bed. He kept a hand on his wounds while you were away, luckily, but he’s starting to slip again.

You peel Simon’s large fingers away, then look at the supplies before you. You rush to the sink and sterilize your fingers, darting your gaze from the sink back to him.

You look down at it—the engagement ring you haven’t been able to take off all this time.

“Fuck it.” You mutter, tearing it off your finger. It clatters somewhere in the sink, and you leave it there to get back to Simon. You tear the cardboard encasing the gloves, slipping them onto your trembling fingers—partially from the cold rain, as well as the know-nothing decisions you’re going to make to treat him.

Stitches are out of the question, so you’re going to have to pack the wounds—something you've seen on a medical show once. You unravel the roll of gauze, cutting off small sections of it with the knife, and then get to work.

He’s lucky he’s knocked out because he’d probably cringing right now—from your medical care, not your fingers digging around at his wounds.

You loop the bandage around your index finger, trying to recall the steps. You push it deep enough to prevent it from bleeding through, stuffing the gashes in a zig-zag pattern. One by one, you move to the next wound until they’re all packed.

If these stabs had been any deeper, there would be two bodies in the bed of the truck right now—one of which would be the owner. Opportunely, they hadn’t bled through the gauze so far.

The exhaustion caught up with you quickly, but you were determined to keep an eye on him. Without him, you were screwed, plain and simple. He wasn’t going to die and leave you with this unexplainable mess, one that he got you into when he took you on this hellacious joyride.

—

You must’ve dozed sometime in the night because the sunrise was peaking through the gaps of the curtains when your eyes opened. Not to mention, Simon was shoving you away from him, grunting as he was finally able to sit up.

He peered down at the evidence of the unpractised medical attention you’d given him. His fingers found the bottle of Kentucky still on the nightstand, and he took a slug from it, feeling the tension release a little bit.

The sight of the room surprised him a bit—the medical supplies and luggage thrown around, the clothing laid out below him, and not to mention the blood still dried on your fingers.

He finds his footing, despite the frazzled expression you’re maintaining. He’s been here before, in fact, been closer to death many times. This was nothing to Simon—“just a scratch” as he’d say. He grabs one of the only clean shirts left, slipping it on to cover himself.

After he’s taken another drink, he turns to you, standing above you with authority. This was no longer a game of cat and mouse, it was past that now. He had bigger problems, like the corpse in the bed of his truck, and the prospect of more of those men coming.

He finally finds the words when he sees you’re no longer wearing your ring. “What’s this bloke's name, the one who sent his dogs on us?”

You shake your head in confusion, but his clenched jaw is persistent and only going tighter. You’re forced to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You, too, can tell things are changing, and it’s become more personal for Simon than he’d like to admit.

 You utter his name, as he’s forced you to reveal it. “Cal. His name is Cal.”

He takes a sharp inhale, taking in the information. The hands that were resting at his sides have now turned to fits. “After we take care of that problem in the back of my truck, we’re gonna find this bastard.” You could swear steam would be coming out of his ears by now.

He grabs his truck keys off the table and starts towards the door, growling something under his breath that you didn’t make out,

“I’m gonna find this bastard…”

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011

#mw2 fanfic #mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

[spicy-apple-pie]

Fuck it, Harry du Bois and co headcanons

- Harry naturally has rosacea but his alcoholism made it worse.

- when he was a PE teacher he would occasionally come wearing the worst clothes for physical activity. Full disco bell bottoms, his shirt unbuttoned to his belly button, and two inch heels.

- he coached girls rugby and la crosse and was so protective of his team. He would call them his girls in passing and if you didn’t know him, you would be concerned.

- Harry got Kim a disco Elysium equivalent to Lego model of a racing MC. Kim was like “👀 why did you get me this?” And Harry was just like “because you like cars :)”. And Kim externally was really cool and chill about it, but internally he was freaking out because he never actually got a meaningful toy from anyone as a kid. (He got gifts donated to a charity. Which included things like glue sticks and half used pencil crayons). He invited Harry over to help build it with him.

- when Kim was a teen, going through his “I’m so angry at everyone and everything around me.” He got semi adopted by a drag family. They drifted apart when he joined the RCM because most of them were old enough to remember the raids that would happen at gay bars. Kim was adamant that he was joining to actually make a difference in the community and he would be one of the good ones. He still visits occasionally, when he’s not bone tired from working.

- Kim and Judit instantly became allies to each other. Being two of the only visible minorities in the precinct, they instinctively gravitated towards each other. They’re not best friends, but fairly close. They back each other up if they notice the other is being talked over or disrespected.

- Harry has a ttrpg campaign with Kim, Cuno, and sometimes Jean. Kim has always wanted to play this long form of board game but has never had any close friends to play with (and yes, his close friends here are literally two of his coworkers and a 10 year old but whatever). Jean acts like he doesn’t like it, he’s really bad at role playing and understanding the rules. But he genuinely misses Harry sometimes and likes to know that he’s okay. Cuno on the other hand, LIVES for the game. He loves the storytelling, worldbuilding, and roleplaying. Harry’s helped him with a few one shots that he played with his school friends (they didn’t like it, called him lame. But him and his pig made it, so what do they know.) He’s working on writing their next campaign and he’s so excited about it and won’t like Harry know what it is.

- Harry adopted a stray cat outside his apartment and didn’t know that she was pregnant until she gave birth in his closet. There was 4 in total, 1 didn’t make it, Trant took one, and Harry couldn’t find homes for the two left so he kept them and mama. Even though mama loves Harry, her favourite person is Kim. Whenever Kim comes over, Harry calls for her “It’s Kim!!” He calls and she shoots up and cries at his feet. Kim won’t admit it, but he finds her adorable and loves her.

Uh, yeah, I don’t think I’ll make it a habit of posting DE stuff but I’m bored lol.

#disco elysium #DE #harry du bois #harrier du bois #hdb #kim kitsuragi #Cuno #cuno de ruyter #jean vicquemare #judit minot #trant heidelstam #Headcanons #cutie pies

[leupagus]

I haven't read all the meta yet, BUT

One thing I find really interesting is the relationship Ted has — and has had for the duration of the show — to anger, namely his notion that it's always a bad thing that should be suppressed or at least ignored at all costs.

We've only seen him show anger a handful of times (off the top of my head I can think of the shouting he does at Jamie in season 1 when Jamie's being a shit; then — tellingly — his anger at Rebecca when she sends Jamie back to Man City, even though at the time he thought it was an innocent mistake rather than deliberate sabotage; and of course his very confrontational second session with Sharon in season 2) and he hasn't yet admitted to feeling angry about anything. Not at Michelle for divorcing him, not at Rebecca for hiring him under false pretenses, not at Trent for writing and publishing the article about his mental health, not even at Nate for betraying his trust in such a shockingly awful way by telling Trent about said mental health.

And in episode 3.1 we see Ted resist the temptation of anger, of "fighting," several different times — instead he sinks into depression, or makes jokes at his own expense, or quietly ignores it. In part it's because he genuinely is someone who wants to be positive, but I think there's also some deeply fucked-up notions he has about anger as both an emotion and a behavior — notions that I suspect he got from his father (haha, bad fathers continuing to be the theme of this show!).

I think anger frightens Ted, in a way: he sees anger as a loss of control in and of itself, which it certainly can be! But no more than any other emotion, I don't think; and given the way Ted has seen anger turn to violence (not just from his father's suicide, but from his past as an American football coach, a sport where anger is often used as a weapon rather than a tool) I think his reticence to show so much as mild annoyance has a lot of fascinating implications.

TL;DR — I think at some point Ted is going to actually figure out how to be angry, and it's gonna be amazing.

#ted lasso #I keep thinking about ted just standing there while nate said the most vile shit to him #and NEITHER of them addressing nate's horrific betrayal of him MERE HOURS BEFORE #but ted trying to apologize and to reach out even after nate walked out of the room #ted has never been angry at nate — at anyone — who truly earned his anger #YET #and like... honestly I feel like trent #I just wanna dissect him #(lovingly) #theodore lasso #believe mothereffers

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Bryce/Jared, Holden, Canucks; the bad place

For the prompt: What Bryce said to Holden in the box

Jan can’t say he ever considers being in the penalty box a good thing, but some times are worse than others. Typically, being sent to the box as a proxy for someone else is the best case scenario: he didn’t do anything wrong so his coach isn't pissed at him, and he might just get a breakaway on his way out the door if he’s lucky. There’s a reason they put Jan in if they have to pick a dude: he’s fast. If he gets behind the play, there’s a good scoring chance for him at minimum, and it isn’t like he’d be playing regardless, because they don’t use him on the PK. So what if he has to sit in a plexiglass box rather than on the bench? A seat's a seat.

This should be the best case scenario. But Jan is not having a good time right now. Neither is the penalty box attendant, he imagines. Jan thinks anyone except maybe Math would prefer not to be anywhere near Bullet at the moment, literally shaking with anger beside him. Jan can feel the vibration through his knee, before Bullet’s twisting around, knee knocking Jan's, and yelling, “You’re a fucking dead man!”, temporarily deafening Jan in the bargain.

He accidentally meets the eye of the penalty box attendant, who gives him a commiserating look. Jan’s sure he’s heard worse, but he also suspects Bullet isn’t going to restrict himself to that, and unfortunately he is right.

He didn’t hear what Chase said to Bullet, and he doesn’t want to ask — he thinks it’d only make Bullet angrier, and frankly Jan doesn’t think he needs any help — but whatever it is, he crossed a line, and Bullet is letting him hear it. And hear it. And hear it.

“There are children right behind you!” Chase yells, when Bullet finally stops long enough to take a breath.

Jan didn’t peg Chase as a ‘think of the children’ type even before he goaded Bullet into the box by saying presumably shitty things about his husband, and judging by his smirk when Bullet quiets, he thinks his instinct is correct. Jan also doesn’t think any parent who bought tickets directly behind the penalty box has the right to be particularly offended by any violence or profanity their children may hear. He’s fairly sure, in fact, that many who pick a seat near the box do it hoping for this exact occurrence.

Jan would tell Bullet all this, but he thinks he and the attendant deserve the temporary break.

Jan doesn’t know if Bullet comes to the same conclusion as he did, or if he simply can’t restrain himself — it’s a toss up, considering he’s still shaking with fury, the air practically vibrating with it, his knee actually vibrating against Jan’s.

Jan looks up at the clock, sighing when he sees a full minute remaining. They always seem to go to commercial after a penalty. He knows it’s just because it’s a stoppage in play, but he thinks they should have some sympathy for the players serving the penalty. But considering it’s a punishment, he supposes they don’t.

Jan didn’t even do anything wrong.

*

“—and learn to play defence, you fucking pig fucker!”

“Pig fucker,” Jan says faintly.

“I don’t know where that came from,” Bryce admits, then yells, “Never mind that last part, but I stand by the rest! You suck at D! The hockey kind, not the — you fucking suck, Chase!”

“Pig fucker,” Jan repeats.

“I took it back!” Bryce says. “What do you want me to do, here?”

Jan just shakes his head. “You suck at D too,” he murmurs.

“I’m getting better at it!” Bryce says.

*

“I don’t have to tell you not to go after him again, right?” Gabe asks.

Bullet’s mulish face says that isn’t a correct prediction, and Gabe internally sighs. Besides holding the obvious position of not wanting one of their top scorers in the box for extended stretches, Gabe doesn’t like the idea of Bullet going back and forth with a dude so soon after getting off the IR, especially twice. And he really doesn’t like the idea of how cranky Jared will get if Bryce gets injured. When Jared’s in a bad mood, he emanates displeasure until everyone around him is too.

“Can you let the refs do their jobs?” Gabe asks, without much hope, and Bryce’s face gets…Gabe is pretty sure ‘mulish-er’ is not a word, but it’s still the best way he can describe it. Stubborn doesn’t do it justice — there’s too much simmering anger in it for that. Apparently beating the dude up and then calling him a pig fucker didn’t get the rage out of his system.

“Jan doesn’t have to tell everybody about that,” Bryce complains.

“Not condemning it,” Gabe says. “Just impressed with your creativity.”

“I ran out of stuff,” Bryce says. “And repeating myself seemed, you know.”

“Pedestrian?” Gabe asks, and Jared, beside him, snorts. He’s ‘not talking’ to Bryce right now, but he’s practically sitting in Gabe’s lap, he’s eavesdropping on their conversation so hard, so Gabe doesn’t even think Bryce is buying the act.

Bryce looks confused as well as mulish now, probably wondering what the hell walking has to do with anything. Dima raises his eyebrows and gives Gabe a thumbs up behind Bullet’s back. He wasn’t actually trying to distract him, but Bryce is quiet for the moment, and he doesn’t try to rip Chase’s head off, the next shift they’re on together — possibly because they only overlap briefly, but Gabe decides to be optimistic.

Nobody needs to take matters into their own hands: the refs seem as done with Chase’s shit as Gabe is. Canucks fans are too — a decidedly mocking cheer goes up when Chase goes to the box for the third time tonight. Gabe knows Stephen was planning on watching this one, and he bets he’s sitting on the couch laughing his ass off right now.

Gabe does not laugh, because he knows there’s a chance it’d twist into some ‘poor sportsmanship by Canucks as refs unfairly target Holden Chase’. Doubly so when homophobes are trying to find any chance to hate on Bryce and Jared without giving themselves away.

It’s difficult, though. Even more difficult after Gabe looks across the ice, where Chase appears to be arguing with the penalty box attendant, because of course he is, and he hides his face in Dima’s shoulder for a moment, so the cameras won’t catch his grin.

#fic snippet #SOTM #bryce marcus #jared matheson #holden chase #gabe markson

[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (3.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, oral, penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 7.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Oceans Apart by Secret Nation; Let it Go by James Bay; Already Gone by Sleeping At Last; All I Want by Kodaline || Playlist 🎶

A/N: This one’s a pretty hard one. Please take care and reach out to anyone if it gets too much. So Far Away and Snooze would be good companions for this chapter as well.

7 years ago 

You stand in front of the mirror and gaze at the woman looking back at you. Donned in a blush dress, pearl earrings, and a cream-colored scarf as a headband on your hair, you think you look pretty great. Elegant is a word you could use; you always took after your mom’s style and people described her as such. Some of your instructors think the same, but all that matters is what one specific man thinks. 

Your phone beeps to tell you he’s arrived, so you grab your bags and head out the door. 

“Going out again?” Your father’s voice stops you, but you sense only curiosity in his tone. 

“Yup, and I’m sleeping over at Tae’s,” you lie; he’s the perfect alibi, really. “Bye!”

You turn away and skip outside, towards the car that’s parked across the street. Routinely, Yoongi drives away immediately in case your father decides to check who’s picking you up, and it’s on the first stoplight right as you exit your neighborhood that you turn to the man next to you and kiss his cheek. 

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you smile. 

Yoongi’s eyes trace your face and your body as he smiles back. “Happy anniversary, jagi. You look really beautiful.”

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Your boyfriend usually compliments you when his head’s buried in your neck since he tends to get shy, so when he says those words while he gazes at you, you can’t help but feel flustered, an effect he just has on you. 

It’s been a year since you both admitted your feelings for each other and you get to celebrate that today with a stay-in movie afternoon and dinner at the restaurant where he took you on that first fancy date. 

Yoongi says he was supposed to cook for you for lunch but decided instead to go to the cafe you went to after that spin-the-bottle make-out session. 

“It’s where it all started,” he says as he pulls up at the place. 

“Where it started was actually Jungkook’s apartment,” you correct him. 

“Technically, it started in the gym where we had our game,” he counters. 

“Right. Where you got hit by the ball because you were so smitten by me,” you tease. 

“Yah,” he pouts. “You have broken my trust because you told Taehyung about that.”

“It makes me giddy, I couldn’t help it,” you giggle. 

You go through lunch with your usual stories and banter and then head to his apartment, which looks much cozier than you remember it being 2 days ago when you were last here. There’s a vase with marigolds on the dining table, throw pillows on the floor, and comfy blankets on his tiny couch. There’s even a popcorn machine and mood lights that he got for the occasion.

“Baby, what’s all this?” You smile, pulling him close. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he shrugs. “Just thought I’d clean up a bit.”

“It’s perfect,” you say, embracing him for a deep kiss. 

You make yourself comfortable on the couch as you curl into him. You finally decide your choice of movie to be Love and Other Drugs, which makes you bawl your eyes out, and that’s followed by Yoongi’s choice of Love and Basketball, which makes him quite emotional. 

Once you’ve both sorted your feelings out and kissed until you ran out of breath, you head to the restaurant for dinner and eat something fancier than what you had the last time. When Yoongi asks for the bill, the server informs him that one Mr. Min has settled it. 

“My dad?” He wonders out loud. 

“Yes,” the server replies. “We just called him as instructed and it’s all been paid for. He wishes both of you a happy anniversary.”

Yoongi smiles to himself and sends a message to his old man. A simple thank you would do even if there’s more for him to say. 

“That’s so sweet,” you gush. “I’ll visit him tomorrow and give him the biggest hug. I just love how supportive he is.”

Yoongi agrees and thinks of the times his dad let him off work early or not at all to be with you when you’d visit or when he’d go to Seoul for you. He remembers the small smiles and words of encouragement when you’re mentioned. He remembers all the ways his dad has shown that he’s happy for his son who’s found someone who loves him the way you do. Yet even then, there’s a bit of sadness at the thought. 

“He’s like that with my brother and his girlfriend, too,” Yoongi shares. “I think he’s just happy that we get to have a relationship like this, you know? Maybe it reminds him of what he lost. He constantly tells us not to screw it up.”

His mom grew up at a farm and worked hard at their family’s business. But she always dreamed of the big city life as a career woman and always wanted to be somewhere at the center of things. She wanted the fast pace and glitz and glamor and little luxuries that she couldn’t have here. She put those desires on hold when she met his dad; fell in love immediately and made a life here that seemed to override whatever dreams she had. 

He did his best - worked extremely hard at the shop, built her a house she wanted, took her to Seoul regularly for the thrill she sought. She did his best, too - returned his love and affection, took care of the family they created, and stayed every time he asked her to, even if she wanted more. He didn’t want to let go of his life here. Neither did he want to lose her, but he eventually did, after the last time he asked her to stay and she said she no longer couldn’t.

Yoongi doesn’t know why his dad didn’t do more, but then again, he thinks he shouldn’t have asked her to stay that first time. If she wanted him at the end of it all, then losing her temporarily would’ve been better than trapping her in this life where she wasn’t completely happy. Being with someone while dreaming of another - better - life just isn’t sustainable, and Yoongi wishes he was old enough to tell that to his old man. 

“Well, if we’re adding to your dad’s joy, then that's wonderful,” you say. “At least we’re not the only ones happy.”

You finish the sumptuous meal and head back to Yoongi’s apartment to continue the celebration. There’s a gift you want to give, you say, and he says that so does he. 

You sit on the floor with him and retrieve the Yamazaki whiskey from your bag to his confusion then delight, saying that you snuck it out of your dad’s liquor cabinet and it’s one of many. 

“This isn’t the gift though,” you say, as he pours each of you a glass. “This is.”

He opens the box that you hand him and softly smiles. He stares at it for a while before feeling the material, smelling it, and then unfolding it. 

It’s the vintage Allen Iverson jersey he said he’s been saving up for, and you’re glad that your few months’ salary from acting and being the assistant to the production assistant of the show you did an extra for were enough to afford this. The way his fingers trace the threading and the hem tells you he likes it. 

“I love it when you talk about basketball even if I don’t always understand it,” you smile. “I hope you keep sharing it with me.”

“Thank you, jagi,” he whispers, feeling like there’s more to say that he can’t find words for, so he kisses you tenderly instead. He knows he’ll be wearing this as often as possible. “Now, I went a bit personal with my gift,” he says, placing a box on your lap. 

You excitedly open it to find a floral silk scarf that looks incredibly elegant, and you squeal in joy at how pretty it looks. 

“Baby, this is so beautiful. I’ve been looking for something like this.”

“Good,” he giggles. “There’s one more thing, though.”

You remove wrapping paper and see a notebook underneath. The cover looks pretty ordinary, but you feel the tears form once you flip through the pages. 

It’s like his diary for the past year, with as little as one-sentence entries to as long as a whole page. 

We watched A Moment to Remember for the 5th time and she cried again. Wish I got to hug her 

She fell asleep on video call and talked in her sleep. Cute 

She spent our whole drive to Busan talking. Some stories she’s told me already but it’s okay. I can listen to her talk everyday and not get bored 

I arrived at her apartment late and she was upset with me even though she kept denying it. I knew because she didn’t kiss me until the second hour. But I should’ve kissed her sooner 

She rushed from her filming to get to my graduation on time. I wish I knew the right words to express how much it meant to me. I’ll always remember it 

I told her I love her first and she giggled. Yah, I couldn’t stop smiling! 

You use the notebook to cover your tear-stained face; you’re ugly crying by now and you’re too shy to show him, but he’s why you’re like this in the first place. 

“Jagi, that gift is supposed to make you laugh because it’s cringey,” he says, pulling your arm so he could see you. “Is it really that embarrassing?”

“What are you saying?” You cry some more. “It’s the sweetest thing ever. Baby, you don’t tell me these things.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “I get shy and weirded out so I just write them down. Being away from you is hard and I don’t know if I get to express enough when we’re apart and even when you’re here, so… yeah.”

“Baby, you express enough in other ways,” you assure him. “But this is so, so special. I will read this everyday and imagine it in your voice and your soft, shy smile.”

Yoongi groans. “Just don’t show Taehyung, okay? That’s a super-secret, for-your-eyes-only, once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

You laugh at the way he pouts, and it prompts you to position yourself on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You won’t be doing this for our second anniversary?” You ask. 

“Well, my plan is to say more this time,” he mumbles, “and not just write them. I… I know you need to hear the words, too.”

“However you want to say them is however I need to know them,” you respond, kissing him deeply. “You love me, that’s what matters. Whether I hear it or read it, as long as I feel it,” you continue. 

You nibble his lip as the tension starts to build. With desire in your eyes, you kiss his cheek down to his jaw. “And I really wanna feel it.”

The words affect Yoongi immediately, and he pushes against your clothed cunt to tease. “Well, do you feel it?”

You giggle your yes in his ear, a sweet sound he likes hearing no matter how turned on he is. 

Yoongi lays you on the floor, ensuring there’s a blanket to rest your head on. Propped up on one arm, he kisses you, soft and teasing the way he likes, while he unbuttons your dress. He cups your cheek like he always does, his thumb detouring to your mouth for you to suck gently, and his dick throbs at the sight. But he pushes on - pulling down your bra, flicking your nipple, and smirking when your back arches already when he hasn’t even done that much yet. 

His fingers reach your sopping cunt and they play you like his favorite game - skillfully, confidently, revealing that cockiness that only comes out when he does something he knows he’s good at. 

You smile through the pleasure, pulling him for a kiss in between your moans. You try to reach for his dick, mumbling how you want it in your mouth so he switches positions, kneeling to your side to be swallowed by you while still pleasuring you with his hand. 

The sounds you make are obscene while he maintains his groans and hushed curses. He just wants to ingrain this image in his mind to remind him of how perfect you are for each other. The way you make each other feel isn’t something that can be replicated. Even with barely any words, he knows that you know how he feels, especially once he shifts again to enter inside you now, letting you feel how hard you’ve made him. 

It’s slow but intentional at first. He wants it intimate, with him hovering over you and kissing down your jaw. But as your moans intensify, so does his pleasure, so he gets on his knees and pulls your legs apart, giving him the perfect angle to thrust into you roughly. 

“Fuck, baby, ye—” you keen. “Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.”

Yoongi doesn’t. He lets himself get lost in the feel and sound of you, gripping your waist as he pushes deeper and deeper. Your shaking legs signal that it’s close to too much, and with a few flicks of your nub, you come crashing, and at your pleas for him to come with you, he crashes as well.

He lays next to your side and pulls you in his arms. 

“Oh, baby. You’re such a freaky romantic,” you tease, cupping his cheek this time and planting a soft kiss on his lips. His look softens. “Day 1, year 2. We came so hard and then she giggled and kissed me,” he narrates, causing you to laugh again. “She’s so adorable when she looks so soft. I love her so much.”

Summer ends too soon for you. By the middle of it, there were less of the lazy days at Yoongi’s apartment and more of the cafe runs before his training with a developmental team. It’s the usual next step, as the draft for the professional teams is still a few months from now, and this is where players get scouted. It’s basically their time to show the big league what they’re made of; the media hypes the players up as well and that adds to the anticipation of their eventual debut on the national stage. 

Your support for Yoongi didn’t waver. Once he passed the tryout for the best team in the area, he spent a lot of time on the court. You’d wake up to an empty bed next to you because he’s off to morning training; some afternoons were spent in another city where the game was being held. But whenever he was back at home with you, it was all cuddles and kisses and inside stories and excitement from him.

There’s this joy he has whenever he plays. It’s not as obvious because unlike his teammates, Yoongi doesn’t react much. But since you watch him and not really the game, you notice how he always looks around the court before every match. You see the tiniest of smiles whenever he makes a shot or a good pass. You feel his focus when he’s seated on the bench, watching his teammates and then whispering something to them after. 

He was their college team’s captain not because he was the most vocal, but because he was the most observant. He knew every team member’s individual strengths and highlighted those, and this time was no different. He always said he’s a student of the game and would spend entire days just watching play-by-plays and analyses. 

But you enjoyed every day you got to watch him train or play. You snuck in a smirk or two when you’d caught his attention, and he took his revenge by gazing at you after a made-shot until you felt hot all over. He really is a confident one when he’s on the court. 

You left in tears as you did the year before. You knew it was gonna be harder this time - he’d be more focused with training and getting drafted while you’d be in your final year of university. But you promised you’d still see each other as much as you could and you stayed true to that.

Months pass and though less frequent and shorter, the visits continue. So do the regular calls and texts, even if your exhaustion shows more and his frustration over losses hits harder. But the care and love remain.

He assures you of being fully with you after he gets drafted - wherever that may be; he said he hopes he’ll be based in Seoul - and you assure him the same after you graduate. The life you never even thought you’d want is slowly shaping up. You imagine the nice house in the big city and days of his basketball games and your movies. You imagine the mornings and evenings together, all the talks and the lovemaking, and all the hurt from your past being let go. 

It was all good until it wasn’t. All it took was one bad fall, a broken kneecap, and a shattered dream to change everything.

6.5 years ago 

The bell over the door rings, signaling a customer, and Yoongi smiles at the sight of you entering.

“Hey,” you greet, kissing him as you walk behind the counter, careful not to hit his casted knee. “I’m sorry I’m late. The agents took a while to inform us on who got the extras for this series. Couldn’t leave until then. Are you okay?”

“Did you get a role?” He asks, wanting to know how you are instead of him constantly saying how he’s been, which is pretty much the same this past week.

It’s been 3 months since the injury. He got a steal and went for a fast break, got inadvertently hit by an opponent, and then fell on his knee. It was a serious one, he’d been told; it would require weeks of bed rest and more of physical therapy. The mental side of it wasn’t something the doctor warned him about, though, and Yoongi thinks it’s been the worst.

He spent \days in bed with nothing to do, wishing he was on the court to train and play as draft day neared. He had this crazy thought that he’d still make it on time, but when his coach visited one day and told him bluntly - as Yoongi requested - that no professional teams are willing to contract an injured player, he felt his life crash down. It didn’t help to learn that the Seoul Thunders planned on signing him; that would’ve been the perfect path for him so he could be with you. 

He moved back with his dad, a knot forming in his heart every time because Yoongi doesn’t like being taken care of, especially when as an adult, he feels like it’s his job to watch over his old man. 

He loathed himself for not being there for you, too. Agencies usually start getting senior acting students, and you got rejected from your first 4 choices. You tried to mask your dejection during your video calls, asking instead how he’s been doing. He shrugged things off, saying he was okay, the same thing you were doing, and he felt that both of you were just trying to protect the other, or even yourselves, knowing that the comfort you both badly needed wasn’t an arm’s reach away. 

When you finally got that call from a small agency, which you became ecstatic about after learning that they really seemed to care about their talents, he celebrated with you through the screen. He felt you play it down, though, and he knew you didn’t want him to feel bad. The restrained smiles hurt him more than he could say, though, and he wanted badly to just see your joy again.

“I got a role, just a small one,” you smile now. “And you, Mr., why are you out of the house? Being in a cast and cleared to move doesn’t mean you should be doing it all day.”

Your crossed arms and pouty face endears him, and he can’t help but chuckle. 

“I’ve been stuck in my old room for months, jagi. I’m sick of the bed and staring at the NBA posters on my wall and all the awards I’ve won,” he says, his voice and his face falling. “It’s… it’s not a good place to be.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, kissing his hand. 

The front door opens and Mr. Min enters, who’s just as surprised to see his son manning the shop. 

“What are you doing here!” He scolds. “You’re supposed to be resting at home!”

“I’m trying to get the business going so we could earn and pay for my medical bills,” Yoongi answers, his face hardening now at the reminder of the sacrifices of his dad just so he could get the best care. 

The developmental team and the insurance could only cover so much. Jungkook and Namjoon even gathered their friends to raise funds just to help, and much as Yoongi didn’t want to accept it, he knew rejecting the offer would bury his dad further in debt.

“That isn’t your job, son,” Mr. Min counters. “It’s mine.”

“It is, after I made that fast break knowing I’d get fouled. It was unnecessary. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s a play you’ve done so many times before. You wouldn’t have known how it would end. There’s no one to blame for this,” his dad huffs.

You can tell this conversation has happened before, and as you look at Yoongi’s dejected eyes, you know that he’s feeling much more than he’s been telling you, and you curse at yourself for being too tired and preoccupied to see behind his smiles. 

“I just…” he starts, then shakes his head. “I just wanna do something else that isn’t lying down and feeling sorry for myself. I need to be productive. I’m just sitting here on the counter; I can stay here while you work on some pieces.”

“Fine,” his dad sighs. “But you’re off by 5.”

You stay with Yoongi until then, talking about how your days have been. He insists you tell him stories and you do, indulging him for now. Mr. Min drives both of you to their house and prepares dinner, and you notice that as time passes, Yoongi gets more quiet.

You remember the date and your heart breaks for him even more.

“Mr. Min, I’m sorry to ask but is it okay if I stay with Yoongi tonight?” You say, as you help him clean up in the kitchen. “It’s draft night and I don’t want him to be alone.”

The man stops his movements and glances at his son whose eyes that have lost the life in them stare at the ceiling. As a father, there’s no such pain like this. He thought that witnessing his sons lose their playfulness after he couldn’t get their mother to stay was hard enough, but it wasn’t as painful as seeing his child lose his drive and passion over a crushed dream. He knows there’s not much he can do but you do, so he agrees.

“Of course, my dear,” he smiles sadly. “Thank you for being patient with him. I know it hasn’t always been easy.”

“It’s all I can do,” you hum. “I just wish he doesn’t keep all the pain to himself.”

“I remind him that he shouldn’t, but it’s something he just does,” Mr. Min sighs. “Just give him some more time.”

“I will,” you nod, walking back to your boyfriend who smiles faintly when you say you’ll be staying the night. 

You watch a rom-com and curl into him the entire time, laughing against his chest, intertwining your fingers with his, and nuzzling his neck to give him some form of comfort and distraction from what’s going on in some hall in Seoul. Wrapped in his arms as you prepare to sleep, you whisper words of love and encouragement, relaying what his dad had told you - that it isn’t the end, that he’s too young to think it is, that he has time after he recovers, and that he’ll be back strong soon enough.

Yoongi hums, kissing your forehead to tell you that he appreciates your positivity, that he wants to believe in your words, that your love has been the only light during these past 3 months of darkness. He lets your soft breaths sing him to sleep and he kisses you again - in apology this time, for keeping all his pain from you, for letting you see him suffer, for not loving you as he should, and for thinking that despite all the support you’re giving him, he’s not quite sure how to get through all this.

6 years ago 

The pain from a broken dream is something that’s hard to comprehend. You tried to understand it once, when your mom told you about her own injury that had her retire from ballet early. It wasn’t just the physical pain, she said; the way the heart and soul hurt is indescribable. It wasn’t as simple as trying again after recovering; the fear of a re-injury is paralyzing, the missed opportunities are haunting, and the unwanted encouragement was jarring. 

“It crushes something inside of you and you’re just lost,” she told you. 

You think about her words as you look around Yoongi’s room, void of the love for the sport that used to burst out of him. You’ve just arrived from Seoul after a day of celebrations after your graduation yesterday, a milestone that your boyfriend wasn’t a part of because he hadn’t been feeling well; he’ll celebrate with you back home where it’s just the both of you, he’d said, not feeling like he’s ready to be around other people.

He's been feeling that since the injury, you sigh to yourself. Even after he removed the cast and could walk and run again, you two have barely gone out of the house every time you’ve visited, which is almost every week. Never mind the auditions you missed and the late nights; you had to go see him every time because he couldn’t, and you’re not sure if he was more upset that he’s not able to go to you, or that you were the one who had to see him every time. You can’t really tell; Yoongi hasn’t been open and expressive in a while.

The walls are now bare, with tape markings from the posters that were once displayed. There’s a trash bag next to his bin, and you find all his trophies and medals thrown inside. You fold the clothes on his bed and put them in his cabinet, finding that all his school and NBA jerseys are messily placed at the back, including the Allen Iverson one that you gifted him over a year ago, the one he once wore almost everyday.

“You don’t need to do that,” he hums, closing his closet door. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” You bravely ask. “Are you?”

“I don’t know how else I can answer that differently from the way I did last week, or the week before that, and before that,” he says too dryly. “You ask every time and I answer the same way.”

Yoongi watches your eyes lose their sparkle that was already faint in the first place. It’s been like that for a while. He supposes it’s the exhaustion from having to take the long trip every weekend to see him; once, you even came here for just a day because you learned he had a breakdown and wouldn’t stop crying. He doesn’t tell you that it still happens every few days, knowing that it would worry you even more. 

You’re also probably just tired of having to deal with him - of missing out on the little things that he used to pick up so easily, of not telling you much about his empty, monotonous days, of not initiating or barely returning your affection. He can’t blame you, and though he knows of the extent of your love that would weather all this for and with him, he also knows you don’t deserve this broken version of the man who’s been unable to love you the way you’ve been needing him to. 

It wasn’t always like this. He was optimistic at one point, but the hope of getting back on the court slowly faded when the healing process took longer than expected, as the presence of his friends and family became too suffocating, as the love he once had for the sport turned into fear. 

He was cleared to move around and do light physical activities the other day and he decided to head to his favorite court at the park for a shoot around. Everything was unfamiliar. The feel of the ball in his hand didn’t feel the same, the movement of his legs were off, the open space made him claustrophobic. 

But he pushed through. He tried to take shots but would freeze whenever he had to jump. It’s like he couldn’t move, and that’s when he knew that the fear had taken over - he’s afraid he’s no longer the same, that he’ll get injured again, that the sport he committed himself to no longer has space in its world for him. 

The breakdown wasn’t intense like the first few times. It was silent but heavy, controlling his limbs to go back to his house, rip the posters from his wall, throw all his trophies in a trash bag, and hide everything else that reminded him of basketball. He slept well that night, thinking that it’s how it is to let go of a dream, but he woke up the next day feeling all the pain and fear and regret and sadness over something he’d lost, and all he wanted was to be able to hold you.

But he’s hurting you and he knows it, and he doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t know how all the broken parts of him could comfort and love you when he’s hurting himself. He doesn’t know how his broken dream could support you. You loved him for his passion, for his kindness, for the way he looked at life; he doesn’t know what’s left after all of those have gone. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really know what to say,” he continues after the tense silence. “But you’re here and we’re celebrating your graduation. This is all about you. I had food delivered. It should arrive soon, let’s go.”

“Okay,” you whisper, turning away and walking ahead. 

He sees you try to engage but your smile fades quickly. You feel distant at night when you don’t curl into his body like you normally do and he knows why, as he sees through the light from outside - you’re crying in your sleep, and for the first time, he doesn’t think he’s enough to make all your hurt go away. 

The next few weeks fly by in a blur. After the trip back home where you tried to celebrate your graduation with Yoongi, only to feel helpless at not being able to comfort him like you used to, you’re unable to visit until the next month. The roles you’ve been trying to scoop up just to get exposure and build networks have been taking much of your time, including the hostess job at a restaurant that you decided to take just so you could pay the bills.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind though; he doesn’t look for you the way he used to. You’re unsure if it’s the time spent apart, if it’s him getting tired with this arrangement, or if it’s that part of him that’s still suffering that’s why your relationship is suffering, too.

Much as you want to just confront him about how everything’s affected the both of you, he doesn’t seem to be open. He’s detached most times, disinterested in what’s going on in either of your lives, and just drained of energy. It’s hurting you more than you’d like to admit because this can't possibly be more difficult for you than it is for him. 

So you keep it all in - how you miss his smile and his kisses, how you wish he could let you share his pain, how you want to just pause your life in Seoul so you could be with him until he’s better, until he’s able to love himself again, until he can love you again the way he used to.

You cry on the morning that his dad calls to tell you that he’d found Yoongi at 3AM, asleep in his car that was parked near the court where he used to play. Mr. Min had been so worried and drove around town to find his son who wasn’t picking up his phone, and Yoongi had only muttered an apology and barely spoke after they got home. 

You take the first train you could back to Daegu, rushing to his room once you arrive. You hug him tightly, tempted to express all your anger and disappointment and apology and desperation over how things have been for him and for both of you. 

“Talk to me,” you beg, looking at him with tears in your eyes. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. It’s been hard tiptoeing around you, guessing what you’re feeling and not knowing how to comfort you. Let me know how I can help.”

Yoongi merely looks away, seeming as if even as you plead for him to let you in, he just doesn’t want to. 

The silence is deafening; it never felt this heavy, this scary, nor this painful. 

“How did it get so hard to love you?” You finally cry out, feeling your heart burst out of your chest at the words that have been swimming in your head. 

You never thought it would ever get this bad. You know he needs you and you’re willing to be there even if there’s so little of you to give, but the distance has gotten too much; no matter how hard you reach your hand, he’s just not willing to take it. 

“Then stop,” he says pointedly, surprising you. “You’re not the only one having a hard time.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He does, in ways he can’t explain. Maybe in ways you won’t ever understand. It’s hard to love someone when he knows he’s lost himself; it’s not easy to believe he still deserves you when he can’t give you everything you deserve. 

“It’s hard but you still do. You still love me, I know it,” you argue. 

Yoongi looks away. That’s how you know you’re right. It’s in the longing in his eyes that he doesn’t want you to see. His quivering lips tell you he’s holding back, that there’s more of that pain in the rubble of the dream that was once so strong and so real. 

“This hasn’t been working out,” he says, a thought you’d only let live in your head for fear that voicing it out would signal that you’re giving up on a love that’s meant the world to you. “It’s a miracle we even made it this long after what happened. I had plans for us - playing for a team, living with you, sustaining us… But all that’s gone down the drain and I can’t… I can’t keep living like this - being so far from you, worrying about you worrying about me, waiting for the day that I’ll get over myself just so I could give you a fraction of what you give me. The distance has just made everything so fucking hard.”

“So ask me to stay,” you tell him, walking towards him so he could see in your eyes how serious you are, that you’re willing to give things up for him so you could love him better, so that could make him heal faster. “Let me stay here with you. Let me be with you.”

Yoongi gazes back at you and so many memories flood his mind.

He remembers the first time. The first conversation he’d overheard when his dad asked his mother to stay. And how she did. 

He remembers the second time and the third. 

He remembers how the joy was fleeting, and how miserable she looked days later, like something was missing. Like the people in the home they built stopped being enough. 

And he remembers the last time - the last time his dad asked her to stay, and how for the first time, she said no, and she took her bags and walked out the door. Yoongi remembers the tears in her eyes and her whispered apology, but that she looked like something he’d never seen until that day. That day, she looked free. 

“I can’t ask you that,” he says in a hushed tone as he looks away, like the words aren’t his, like the words hurt just as much. “I can’t ask you to stay. I won’t let you.”

“But you’re here. I belong where you are.”

“Not here. You never belonged here.”

“If you think that pretending you don’t want me anymore will convince me that you don’t, then you’re wrong. I know that’s not true. Just ask me to stay. I need to hear that you want me to stay.”

“I’m not pretending. I do want you. So much. But so will the rest of the world, and that’s what you deserve,” he answers. “There’s nothing for you here, ___. One day, I’ll stop being enough and it will be too late.”

“You don’t know that,” you insist.

“I do.”

“I’m not your mother, Yoongi. And you’re not your dad.”

“Exactly. You dream of something more than just living in the big city. You dream of something you can and you will achieve because you’re destined for it. You’re not her. And I’m not him. Because I’d never ask you to give up anything to keep you here.”

“Then come with me,” you plead. “Seoul is big enough for the both of us.”

“It is. But you’ll be bigger,” he says, cupping your cheek now. “You belong there while I… I have my own broken dreams that I need to piece back together. And I can only do that here. I won’t let them hurt you like they’re hurting me. I can’t love you right with the broken parts of me. So please, ___. Don’t stay. You and I both know you won’t be happy here.”

You remember your mom’s words as she described what emptiness felt like after she stopped dancing. Not only did she lose her capability but she lost her drive, too; she lost herself in the pain of it all. And that haunted her. It was like a ghost that she let live with her even after you and your sisters came along, and you all had to suffer because she forced herself to be okay and love the people around her even if everything else hurt.

You’ll never know what it feels like but you understand. And so you concede, dropping your head to rest on his chest and hugging him as you sob.

“I’m so sorry, jagi,” he whispers in your ear. “I thought I was strong enough for this but I’m not. What’s left of me just can’t… it just can’t love you the same way anymore.”

You hold onto him tighter in response, not able to say just how much it hurts, but that you’ll suffer through it on your own and let him go like he wants. 

Maybe this is what he needs. And loving him the way you do, maybe giving him up is how you could love him even more. 

5 years ago 

The start of spring usually brings with it new beginnings, with the colors coming back and the sun shining a lot brighter this time. You’re finally able to take a day off from your hostess job at the restaurant after working there for 6 days, with your last acting gig having wrapped up just last week. It’s still tough starting out, and while your extra role had you in ⅔ of the season’s episodes, it’s still nowhere near the break you badly need.

You’re looking forward to today though, as Jungkook and Namjoon promised to treat you to a fancy lunch after their game against each other; they were drafted by the Seoul and Incheon developmental basketball teams respectively, in time for the draft in a few months. You’ve seen them at least 3 times since they both moved out of Daegu, and every time has been full of laughter, with both of them asking to be set up with your actor friends.

The topic of Yoong still comes up, with you asking how he’s been doing. He’s been fine, they say. He showed up at their graduation and joined the celebration after they got drafted. It’s a far cry to how their captain was not long ago - distant, angry, and completely rid of anything that reminded him of the sport. 

Both men show up at the restaurant with their usual smiles, and after ordering so much food that you wouldn’t have been able to afford, you have your usual chat - about life back in Daegu, about your friends, and about basketball.

“And Yoongi?” You ask. “Is he still doing okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you repeatedly before nodding and downing his soda. “Uh-uh,” he hums. 

He doesn’t follow it up and instead nudges Namjoon, who adds that yes, their captain is doing better; they visited him the other month after they both went home for the weekend. 

You eye both men as they hyper focus on their food and try to change the subject.

“You’re both terrible liars, you know that, right?” You frown at them. “I know we’ve been broken up a while but I’d still appreciate it if you told me how he’s really doing. Is… is he feeling down again? Did something happen? Is it his dad?”

“No. Yoongi’s, uh,” Namjoon sighs. “He’s doing really well, ___. He’s just…”

“Namjoon,” you huff, “you’re scaring me.”

“He has a girlfriend,” Jungkook blurts, earning him a shove from his friend.

“You could’ve softened the blow,” Namjoon groans.

“You were stuttering,” Jungkook argues. He turns to you and gives you a sad look. “It’s… it’s been going for like, a few months. She’s a local musician and she’s nice. She seems to be treating him well. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, nothing to apologize for,” you smile, meaning it. “As long as he’s doing okay, though, right? And I’m really glad that he is.”

The men sigh in relief, perhaps thinking you’d take the news worse than this. 

You try to maintain your composure and control the tears that are about to fall as the meal goes on, a skill you’re close to mastering. You’ve wanted nothing more than for Yoongi to heal and feel alive again and he seems to be; maybe finding someone who could be there for him physically and emotionally was what he really needed. Clearly, that wasn’t you. And clearly, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize that. You have no doubt that your breakup hurt him, but you also didn’t think he’d move on from it like this and this soon, considering how it ended. 

Hoseok, your agent, calls and cuts your lunch short, as he says he got to book you a walk-in audition for a supporting role in a mini-series, with the directors wanting someone new and having a certain innocent, youthful look about them.

You bid your friends goodbye, with them hugging you a little more tightly than earlier, saying that they wish you all the happiness in the world and that maybe, this audition will get you closer to what you’ve always wanted. 

You wait a few hours for your turn to audition, reining in all your emotions so you could translate it during your few minutes of time in front of the panel. You’re not sure if it’s the best thing for your heart that the scene is one where you’re watching the man you want to be with be with someone else, but after you put in your all and notice the small smile of one of the woman in front of you, you think that maybe allowing yourself to be this vulnerable wasn’t so bad.

Hoseok treats you to a late dinner and tells you that it seemed like you did well. Maybe the payoff to the hurt from today will materialize one day, maybe it won’t. But nothing changes the way your heart breaks at the thought of Yoongi moving on. 

You cry yourself to bed and decide that it’s time for you to move on, too. You wake up the next morning and tear the photo of the both of you that’s still on your bedside. 

What’s left of you has nothing left for him, too. You hope you’ll get over this soon enough.

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#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi #bts suga #yoongi series

[maochira]

Hi hi hi! I looove your writing! And I’d love to request for platonic!male reader who’s new to the Bastard Munchen team with Ness and Kaiser?

Thank you! I ended up writing about some other BM characters as well :] also, if you don't have ü on your keyboard, it's spelt Bastard Muenchen! (ü can be spelt as ue)

Masterlist - (new) taglist sign-up

Tags: male!reader, reader is new in Bastard München, this is like a year before Blue Lock, Kaiser doesn't have a that big ego (yet) so he's not an ass here, Gesner makes one dick jokes (nobody is surprised)

It's been weeks since you received a letter from Bastard München, and you immediately agreed to join that club - it's been your dream for years, after all. But now that the day of your first practice with your new team is coming closer, your anxiety about it has been rising as well.

You're used to being the best player on your previous team, but you're well aware of how you're skill will only be seen as average among your new teammates.

And knowing the Michael Kaiser will be one of those teammates doesn't help your anxiety at all.

But surprisingly, the moment you enter the practice field, all of your anxiety is gone and has been replaced by confidence. You don't exactly know why, but it's nothing to complain about.

The coach isn't there yet, so you're just cluelessly standing around. A few of your teammates are on the field already, but none of them are paying attention to you so far. They probably noticed you already but don't know how to approach you, or simply don't want to.

Well, until two other teammates enter the field.

"No one told me we have a new one!" One of them yells excitedly while running up to you. The other teammate follows him, but he seems rather worried about how this interaction will go.

You know almost everything about Bastard München, so their names are no mystery to you. These are Erik Gesner and Benedict Grim.

"Hey, new one", Gesner reaches his hand out for you to shake. "What's your name?"

"(Y/N)", you answer during a somewhat awkward handshake. The only thing that makes it awkward is that Gesner is continuing it way longer than a handshake regularly is.

"Wow, nobody told us we're getting a new teammate", Gesner finally lets go of the handshake, "I'm Erik, and that's BeneDICKt", he points at Grim, who's only been observing the situation until now.

While Gesner laughs at his pun, Grim lets out a little sigh before turning to you. "I'm Benedict, but you can call me Ben." Then, he turns to Gesner and says "Also, I already told you to not introduce me like this anymore!"

"I don't care. It's funny. He probably thinks it's funny as well", Gesner says while first pointing at you, then he looks at you again, "You also think it's funny, right?"

"I guess...?" Is all you manage to answer before the rest of your teammates and the coach enter the field.

Your coach briefly introduces you to everyone, and then practice starts. It's a lot more difficult and exhausting than what you're used to from your previous team, but you're enjoying every second of it. After being the best for so long and slowly getting bored, now there are new challenges coming towards you.

But throughout the entire practice, you can't help but feel like none of your new teammates is actually interested in you being there. None of them talk to you and they don't pay much attention to you either. Well, except for Gesner and Grim.

It's only at the end of practice when two other of your teammates finally approach you.

"Hey there", Kaiser's voice immediately startles you. Out of everyone, he's the last person you would have expected to talk to you. And as always, he's accompanied by Ness.

You don't manage to get a word out, so Ness continues the conversation. "Welcome to the team! Your name was (Y/N), right?"

You're about to open your mouth to respond, but then Ness pulls you into a short but tight hug.

"I've got to admit, you did very well during practice", Kaiser continues speaking, "You seem to fit into the team, skill-wise. What's your position again?"

It takes a short moment for you to gather the right words to respond. "I'm usually a midfielder, but I've also played as a forward on my previous team."

"Great, that means we'll work together on the field!" Kaiser smiles and starts walking towards the locker room, so you and Ness walk along with them.

While walking, you continue your little conversation about positions on the field, which helps you get more confident around Kaiser and Ness. Just as soon as you enter the locker room, that conversation gets interrupted.

"Guys!" Gesner says excitedly and walks up to you, Kaiser and Ness. Kaiser's expression immediately changed to a less happy one.

"We're having another team hangout at the restaurant of Ali's parents later, are you coming as well?" Gesner continues and gestures over at Ali, who's currently packing up the rest of his stuff.

After Ness and Kaiser (slightly reluctantly) agree, you accept the invitation as well. After all, it sounds like a good way of getting to know your new teammates. Since most of them didn't seem interested in you during practice, you figured maybe it'll be different in a different setting.

And you were absolutely right about that. Hanging out with the team in the restaurant feels almost as if they're an entirely different group. It's much easier to talk to them and they show genuine interest in who you are. Although, a few of them (Igor, Bachman and Birkenstock) aren't participating in the conversations much. Sometimes they even seem annoyed, but only when Gesner makes another cock and balls joke. That's also something you're going to have to get used to.

But this was only your first day with the team, and you already feel very comfortable being with them. Joining Bastard München was the right choice.

#💟 maochira writes #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #alexis ness #erik gesner #benedict grim #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you #erik gesner x reader #erik gesner x you #benedict grim x reader #benedict grim x you #bastard münchen #bastard muenchen

[foreverformula1]

F1 hard truth:

Lando Norris’ hardships in basic academics as shown in Grill the Grid isn’t solely the fault for training for F1 and dyslexia but also probably his lack of interest regarding educating himself and/or how he was academically educated growing up.

Because it’s interesting how this argument comes up only when it’s about Norris and sometimes some others too. But all drivers are pretty much average and Verstappen who is known for being the Top 1 at the moment, has a shocking pre F1 victory strike since Karting days (LITERALLY NEVER ARRIVING SECOND!) , countless stories about his hardships with his father coaching him since he was about 3 years old and making F1 all of his life, is often one of the best at these same games.

Fernando Alonso and Sabastian Vettel too.

The truth is that one might not me much intelligent and that’s about it, I completely understand it and struggle with it myself even when I was pushed academically more than my classmates.

But it becomes inexcusable when you don’t know where your country is. Something a 7 year old can do. He, like the others, travel the world as a job, even in their karting days.

We can sympathise with it and him, but don’t make excuses ,come up with theories or put the blame on motorsport. It shows that you are trying to sugarcoat it because you are aware that there’s no defence for it. He’s just … uneducated on basic geography but you don’t want to think about it because you like him. But you don’t have to “unfollow” him because of it. You can still like everything else about him while admitting that it can be better and surely without shaming him!

I believe that formal institutionalised academics are to ensure a certain level is reached. You actually can learn everything alone but of course, can’t or are not allowed to do some things without certification, for everyone’s safety. So it doesn’t make sense that just because someone didn’t complete high school, they are illiterate and completely stupid. As someone who comes from countries with actual illiterate people and is the daughter of one (who is now literate but you can see the struggle when one reached a certain age and the brain has harder times correcting some errors). So please stop theorizing that just because he or other drivers haven’t attended university or maybe have not finished high school, they are uneducated.

Edit: I saw the replies and rechecked my post, you are right and I modified the term. But I want to explain that I did not mean that he is actually stupid. I was just lacking of words and terms to explain what I meant. Now I replaced it with “Uneducated on basic geography” because I know very well he has other theological knowledge that would be hard to me. The “illiterate” part is misunderstood, I meant that as a way to indeed say that I believe the contrary: People can be literate without high school. I added it there because a pet peeve of mine is people actually being convinced that without a minimum of 3 years of university makes you illiterate all of a sudden. It’s a silly mentality to me, and it’s always an ick when a “fan” of him uses this “excuse”. I wanted to be understood but I messed up and I am sorry, but I hope you people understand what I meant in general with the post. I did not make it to shade him or point it out unlike many people in various social medias and comments under these videos;

I made this post to tell people who overanalyze and over-excuse him to just let it be. That’s it. It’s backhanded to put so much energy into this and prove otherwise when it’s plain simple (and other factors could play a role in it too, I know). But some people want to gaslight themselves into thinking that a celebrity of their liking is not as amazing(according to their personal standards and values) as they wish they were. People do this with other celebrities too, pushing the narrative that one is “secretly intentionally chaotic” or the contrary, just an example. People need to accept their celebrities without the guilt for one thing that turns them off. Or at least respect it and not force said narrative. People will gaslight themselves into changing the smallest details about celebrities to “vibe” better with them. Especially females (or maybe I notice it more with them because I am also one?), for example they will make hundreds of posts to show that they appreciate the female star’s natural voice when in reality it’s just simply at its’ deepest. I think it’s tied with the “not like the other girls” preference. Because they act like they have super high pitched voices when they simply are…ladies with an average feminine voice+feminine (sometimes hyper) style and persona. And all feminine things are now being called “cutesy” and childlike. When sometimes they are simply feminine /+and pretty. Because many times they are not even obnoxious at it. You’d think that they are talking about an anime girl voice, but it’s just a lady. They just don’t vibe with her voice and will gaslight themselves that she’s pushing it , ‘but that’s okay to them’.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #mine #lando norris #mclaren formula 1