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dandelionprints · 8 months

Text

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

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"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him.

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt.

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision.

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected.

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers.

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning.

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day.

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm.

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself.

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim.

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her.

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck.

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion.

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling.

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men.

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral.

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest.

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him.

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came.

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time.

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room.

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife.

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out.

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered.

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening.

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold.

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows.

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual.

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed.

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain.

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers.

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly.

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital.

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks.

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction

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ajortga · 1 month

Text

for i can't help falling in love with you

pairing: vada cavell x fem reader

summary: not only are you new and in almost all of vada's classes, but the more you get to know each other, the more you hang out. she starts to think maybe your friendship is more than what she thought it was, she's feeling something she knows that you shouldn't feel for a friend.

word count: 10.1k+

a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, this is fluffy and sweet, spent way too long on it but nonetheless, not regretful!

based off a request! this is for my vada <3ers

R transfers, V sees her almost all the time and eventually starts falling for R, V then embarrassingly asks R out for dinner! Just plainly puppy love, literally not much but I find these types of tropes sooo comforting, u can change some up a bit!!

It’s loud, bustling, chaotic every single day in the cafeteria.

As soon as the bell rings around the hallways and into the classrooms for lunch break, everyone slams into each other and sprints to the front of the lunch line. Vada even remembers while she walked with Nick some boy tripped in thin air and fell to the floor. She couldn’t help but laugh a little. That was until Nick and her found out he had to get stitches to repair his nose.

She laughed even harder, she couldn’t help it.

Vada slurped her slushy as she kicked her feet, talking with Nick who was drinking an iced latte.

“In a sense, slurpees are better than coffee. You don’t have to immediately shit diarrhea as soon as you plop on the toilet.”

He agrees, rolling his eyes, “Yeah but who would want slushies every day? They stain your mouth.”

“Well would you rather have a temporary colorful tongue that can be seen as cool, or stay in the bathroom while crying for help?”

It seems like as soon as she said it, Nick gagged as he held his stomach.

“You have 30 seconds before you're going to shit your pants,” she states, looking at him up and down. He wasn’t moving.

“Nick, go!” Vada yelled as she choked on a small giggle, watching Nick run to the bathroom holding his pants up to his sides.

As the baggy clothed brunette watched her best friend race to the bathroom, she clicked her tongue and shook her head. Vada slurped on her red slushy.

She was waiting for Nick until she noticed someone with a jacket wrapped around a tank top with her headphones on and book in one hand. You. She’s never seen you before and it was almost certain she’s seen everyone at least once before to know their name. She was bored, so she just watched.

You were folding a gum wrapper into a heart while you followed Mia into the girls restroom. Mia was always the one to give student tours when she could. You must’ve been new. But then you came back out without your jacket, holding it in the other hand as she saw Mia’s slushie spilled all over your jacket. She could almost hear how she was apologizing over and over again and you smiled it off, showing her how it was okay and you could clean up when you got home.

Then she took you back to her friend group, seeing the way your hair went side to side as you walked. Before she could watch you even more, Nick called out her name.

“I just took the biggest shit of my li- what are you looking at?”

She hears him but doesn’t turn his way,still looking a little, “Just someone who I think is new. Mia is giving her a tour.”

Nick said a small “ohhh..” in response, “Well what’s so exciting about that?”

“Mia accidentally spilled the slushie we bought this morning on her jacket by accident.”

“That’s so not cool, she must be cold having to take that off, was she mad?”

“No, she just brushed it off, smiled in a somewhat assuring way, and gave Mia the gum wrapper she folded before Mia took her back to her friend group.”

“Ooh. She’s patient then.”

“Yeah.”

After lunch passed, Vada realized you were in almost all her periods, well only the ones she attended. Sometimes she was late from Amelia hogging the bus. You kept to yourself, gave shy smiles as the teachers introduced you.

But as the next day rose she was back at school again.

Her favorite class was her film class, it was like a free period and she got to touch cameras and watch movies at least twice a week.

She sits in the corner of the room, she likes the way she can look out the window and see the sight of the sky while also seeing her own reflection.

FIlm class is oddly comforting, music always plays before the period begins. She places her phone on top of her desk.

So for the third time that day, she sees you walk through, with your backpack hung over one shoulder and the other with a book. She wants to feel surprised, almost strange how you end up in her class, but instead she almost feels a sense of gratefulness.

She doesn’t want to stare. But her eyes betray her, because in one second her eyes are on you. New students weren’t regular, well in her core classes, sure. But film? Almost never. She watches the way you wait by the teacher’s desk, waiting, unsure, not knowing if you should tap her shoulder or just wait until she notices you. Usually, Vada and Mia would sit together, but sometimes on bad days, they would have to move from talking and laughing too much. So they stuck to sitting diagonally and passing notes in the back of the classroom. Finally, the teacher notices you and the smile she gives you is almost too happy as she rubs your shoulder and stands up.

“Alright everyone,” she quiets down her music, “..usually during film I’d let the music keep rolling, but just for today I’d like you to greet our new student who just transferred here. Her name is Y/N.”

People around the class say awkward hi’s, random waves, some of the girls stare at you and awe, and even some of the well-known guys look at you, eyebrows raised and Vada can almost feel their want for you.

It makes her roll her eyes in disgust.

You do an awkward wave, wanting to shrink into the floor, a smile tugged at your lips.

“Okay sweetheart, there aren’t many options for seating since this class is more compacted than my others. But you can sit next to Vada.” Ms. Valentina points at Vada, “She’s the one in the very back, the open seat behind Mia.”

Your eyes almost light up when you notice Mia’s in your class, giving a small nod and trying to squish into the back.

Mia waves at you, shaking your shoulders to show her excitement as you sit down. Vada can almost smell the sweetness of your shampoo when you sit. It smells like ripe strawberries with the fulfilling scent of roasted marshmallows. She wants to sniff your hair, but you’re already pulling out your notebook from your backpack.

“Hey girl!” Mia whispers, turning around to face you as you smile.

“Hey slurpee stainer,” you joke, your voice is soft, airy, melodic. Not like anything Vada’s ever heard. Sure she’s heard many voices, but yours sounded like a lullaby to shush a baby to sleep if you wanted to.

Mia giggles, slapping your arm, “I said I’m sorryyyy. I’d say I’d take you shopping on the weekends! Don’t use that against me,” she scolds, and that makes you laugh, you cup your mouth to contain the giggles and Vada can hear an adorable squeak come out from it.

“I know, don’t be sorry, I was just joking, I’ll just wash it when I get home,” you whisper.

Before you two could talk again the teacher spoke, “Okay guys, it was a long day yesterday and I was planning on printing out some papers for assignments two days prior, but our school printer broke and the ink on mine is hanging on for dear life.” She pauses, everyone didn’t know where she was going with this, “So I’m just going to roll a movie, you guys can choose but I really don’t have much. You can talk, keep it low and hey, if you’re sitting around Y/N, lighten up the mood and get to know her.”

There were random okays and suggestions. As Ms. Valentina kept reading aloud the names, it was almost certain that Shrek was going to be chosen. For the third time this month. Until she spoke out a new suggestion, and everyone chose La La Land instead.

As she played the movie off the projector, Mia scooted to you.

“Okay, so no pressure, buttt my dad's gone today and I know you said you didn’t have homework. If you don’t want to, it's completely understandable, but me and Vada,” she gestures to the brunette sitting next to you, with her hands clasped together and looking at you with interest, “We sometimes go on pool runs or just drive to the nearest seven eleven. Honestly, it’s whatever. But if you wanna hang, I can give you a ride back home, let you drop off your stuff, and we can get to know each other more at mine. What are you thinking?”

Your lips tug into a thoughtful grin, telling Mia she doesn’t have to because she accidentally spilled her drink on you. But Vada kept staring at you. The blonde glanced at her, she saw her basically staring at your side profile, then back at you before giving her a light leg nudge that you didn’t notice.

“No no! Don’t feel pressured, just know that” Mia breathes and pats your forearm reassuringly, “..that I think we should hang out more, kay? You don’t know how many people don’t get mad when someone spills something on them. At least you’re someone who's patient as hell.” She makes you laugh as you think again.

“Okay, I’d love that,” you respond, simply.

“Then it’s set! Just meet us at that broccoli lookin’ tree, kay?”

As soon as the bell roars and everyone starts opening the gates like it’s the ones they’ll see in heaven, you squish into the crowd of people and look for this broccoli looking tree Mia was referring to. It didn’t take you long.

The only broccoli looking tree was the only tree that was stranded from all the poofy and leafy looking trees, and you could see her with the other brunette that you sat next to in class. You think her name was Vada. You didn’t want to ask, if you did and Vada wasn’t her name, you might as well crawl into a hole.

Mia immediately greets you.

Vada kicks at dirt beneath her, smiling a little foolishly, she realizes when she thinks how silly she might look to you. Her silly smile slightly fades to a more soft one to try and not seem weird. Instead you feel like she might feel uncomfortable with you, maybe she’s closed to people she meets at first. You hope that it doesn’t stay that way

“Get in!” The blonde smiles, and you swerve into the backseat as you drive off to the nearest seven eleven.

Mia’s car smells like flowers, you almost feel a little carsick from the leather and floral scent mixed together. You smell something else though, sweet plum and fluffy musk. You think it’s Vada, you can almost smell her shampoo from here.

It’s a little quiet, Mia talks to Vada, you try not to disrupt so you pretend you're looking at the window staring at literally nothing. It’s like the blue-eyed girl can see the way you try to keep to yourself and don’t want to be involved when you don’t think you should. So she bumps the music up.

Vada wants to talk to you. She can feel this urge for her heart to make her mouth open and speak. But for some reason she feels nervous. It’s weird, she’s usually open and starts off with teasing. Why can’t she speak now? Maybe it’s because.. Vada doesn’t even have a reason to know, she just doesn’t know.

“Dude, how is there traffic already to go to a fucking seven-eleven? We literally just left school.” Mia murmurs, tapping her shoes to the music.

Vada turns around, to look at the cars behind her, maybe to check how many are behind her.

That’s what Mia thought, but Vada wondered what you were doing. She's never met someone that tries to be considerate, to be polite and not wanting to interrupt anyone at any time

She notices the way you take the opportunity of the slightly opened window to take a breath of fresh air and let that small crack to let the small breeze blow through your hair. She sees the way you twirl your necklace up and down, side to side, then spin it around your fingers. She notices how you don’t notice her, so you don’t look at her, you look at the sky, the small baby cows, the cars.

It’s like a pencil is engraving into her mind to write all the details she sees. But she doesn’t know why.

Your figure slightly leans into the window, closing your eyes to rest. Maybe you’re thinking about Mia and what a good friend she is. Maybe you’re thinking about wanting to get to know her, Vada. Maybe you’re thinking of how long it’ll take for you to blend in into this place. Maybe you’re thinking how your place didn’t have many cows everywhere. Maybe you lived in the snowy mountains, or the coastal shorelines where you could take a dip in cool water every summer morning.

She sees your eyes flutter as the car slowly stops. Her body tenses and turns back to the front, you’re already at seven-eleven.

“It’s honestly kind of warm outside, I can turn on the AC on this thing if you don’t wanna go,” Mia says, finally turning around to look at you rubbing your eyes.

“No, no, it’s ‘kay, I’ll come, gotta exercise these legs anyway.” You say, opening her door and following suite with Mia and Vada. The small concreted rocks crunching beneath your shoes.

Mia obviously wants to check out the candy section, but Vada wants another slushy.

“Hold up, I think they have the candy they didn’t have when I checked the other time. Vadaaa you can just roam with Y/N. I’m not sure if you guys had seven-eleven where you lived.” She peeks into the candy section and with a spin of a corner she’s gone.

Vada stands there, awkwardly. She feels like if anything, you should be the one standing there like that. You stand there, looking at the slushies. Cola, blue raspberry, cherry, mountain dew, honestly you didn’t know if you should get one.

“Do you want to get one?” Vada asks, the first time you really heard her speak.

Your ears perk, turning to face her, “I’m not really a slushy person,” you speak softly, “I’m a little thirsty though.”

Vada smiles at that, “I like the cherry flavor and blue raspberry, but you gotta swirl it a certain way for it to taste the way I really like it, y’know?” She speaks, you nod, noticing her baggy basketball shorts and oversized shirt.

She walks closer, she can smell the same sweetness of your scent. Strawberries and roasted marshmallows. Your scent is oddly comforting, a scent where anyone would hug you longer and never let you go to smell it forever.

She stops before you can process anything, slightly backing away and focusing on the slushy dispenser.

“Okay. So like, I know you’re probably not supposed to do this but I just put my index and middle finger under the dispenser and,” she stops, looking at you, “make sure you wash your hands though,” she laughs. “But if you don’t know what flavor, just lick it off your fingers.”

Vada can almost sense you suppressing your laughter, “Seriously! I don’t give two shits about those security cameras. Honestly we go here so often we could get a free slushy and not pay.” She places her fingers under the dispenser of the cherry blast and presses the button, stopping it and licking it off her fingers.

It’s like she’s teaching you. She likes the way you’re interested and really looks like you want to learn.

“Do you want to try?” The slightly shorter brunette asks, her voice trying not to seem pressuring at all.

You think, looking at her fingers as she wipes it with a random brown napkin and throwing it away in the trash, “Okay,” your smooth voice responds before approaching beside her.

You use your index finger and place it under the blue raspberry one.

“This one?” Vada questions, when you nod she presses softly on the dispense button.

Your giggle from the icy cold makes her feel like the happiness she feels when she makes a small child laugh.

Vada turns to look at you and smiles, taking off her hand off the dispense button and watching you lick your fingers. (they were clean I promise)

“I like this one,” you say, making a small eye contact glance with her.

“Do you want it? I can pay.”

“It’s okay, I’ll see what’s at Mia’s home, I seriously don’t think I can finish the small one alone!”

Vada gets to know you more the more Mia invites you. She notices the way you open up, instead of trying to politely look out the window so you don’t disrupt conversations that you aren’t sure what their about, the car is lively,

Loud.

The music is always turned down now, giggles are filled, sometimes there are jokes about classes, teachers, people, the past.

Sometimes there are questions, family, hobbies.

Vada learns you have two siblings, a much younger and much older one, older brother, younger sister.

You like to read and write, play the guitar, bake, you love going on sunsetty and late night drives, it makes her interested in that part.

When you told her, a part of her wanted to tell you, ‘I like late night drives too.’ Maybe she’ll drive you around the freeway on a summer weekend in the future.

She likes the way you include her, how you always include people to make sure they never feel lonely.

She begins to notice the way your smiles aren’t shy anymore, they’re genuine. She can feel the way you’re opening up to her, from the way you look at her in a way she doesn’t remember. You look at her like she feels like she’s the only girl you’re looking at. She sees how your eyes soften in your irises the more you listen to her speak.

Vada never thought she’d experience jealousy for the first time in her life.

Sure she’s felt it before, when her fists clench when she had gotten second place when she was younger. It was like an ember. But this time, it was much stronger.

It was during some school event her high school came up with, couples day or what not.

You sat next to Vada and Nick during lunch, Mia with her friend group usually at this time. You were huddled up to Vada, munching on some chips with your hair up.

“Omph, I think jazz is better than rock honestly,” you say, muffled with chips in your mouth.

“Mmm, reasonable.”

After taking a long refreshing sip of water, you and Vada stand up.

“Nick, me and Y/N are gonna meet up Mia in the hallway, ‘kay? See you weirdo,” Vada walks along with you as you two laugh with each other over random gossip.

As you see Mia in the distance, wanting to wave her over, your friend Liam grabs you by the waist, his hands gentle, flowers in his hand.

You almost jump. You met Liam around the first week of school, he was sweet, gentle-man like. He offered to study with you in the library after school.

“Y/N, hey,” he says, his voice like syrup. Too sweet for your liking, “Sorry for pulling you away. I just wanted to tell you something.”

You saw how Vada stood on the side, awkwardly, not to mention how she was glaring at Liam.

You turn back to the curled hair blonde in front of you, “That’s ‘kay, what is it?”

Liam hands you the flowers he was holding, leaving you, almost confused, your face heating up.

“Look, I know I didn’t know you for long, but you’re sweet, you know? No one ever has to talk bad about you and to be in this school as a person like that is rare. I kind of, you know, like you. You’re pretty, really smart, and have a personality of gold. I know you don’t really like me, but I’d like to know what you think.”

You stare at the flowers held in your hands, your hands feel clammy.

“Liam.. This is really sweet. I appreciate.. You know, you thinking of me in that silver lighting. It honestly, in a sense, makes me feel proud. Thanks. I, I think I need some time, I never thought of you as the kind of person I’d be in a relationship with. But maybe with time if we get to know each other.. You know.. Gosh I’m sorry.” Your voice trails off, a tight smile on your lips, seeing the way Liam nodded immediately in understanding. You felt bad. Rejecting the sweetest boy you ever knew in this school, you just never saw him as something more than a brother.

“Don’t be sorry Y/N, that’s okay, I know what you mean, I just wanted to tell you before it got out of hand, but hey, now that I told you, as long as we stay friends that’s okay. That won’t change any friendship right?”

“I promise,” you assure, smiling a little.

Liam nods again, flowers in your hand as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and leans in to kiss your forehead.

He then walks away and you look down at the flowers in hand.

“Okay, that was cheesy as hell,” Vada says, her voice almost annoyed, maybe from waiting to see Liam’s monologue.

“I didn’t even know he felt that way about me.”

Vada rolls her eyes, “Of course you don’t,” you can’t help but feel almost hurt from her words. It’s like she was calling you oblivious, ignorant.

“Why would he even give you flowers? Gosh, he’s going wild for you, you barely even know him. He’s doing too much for someone like you right now,” she scoffed, slightly, not knowing why someone that you haven’t known for a while would give you flowers so early when you didn’t know him that well. But she worded it so wrongly.

Offended, almost wounded, insulted. Did Vada really think you were the kind of person no one would like? Did one of your closest friends find you in a sense, unlovable?

Vada saw the way your figure tensed, your eyes narrowing, before looking like they were about to cry.

Shit.

God she’s never seen you cry before. Vada felt her heart almost shatter, seeing the way your eyes were beginning to fill with tears. She didn’t mean it in a rude way, god now that she thinks about it, that’s one of the rudest things she could say.

She didn’t mean it, Vada doesn’t even know why she said it, maybe she just didn’t think Liam was right for you.

She felt jealousy, and she could feel it herself. Maybe she wanted a sweet guy too.

Or maybe she just wanted you.

“God Y/N, I didn’t mean-” Vada reaches her hand to your shoulder and immediately you shrug it off.

“You don’t think that I’m lovable enough to truly be loved, is that what it is Vada?” You say, your eyes sharp, “You don’t think I’m capable of deserve someone like Liam? How do you even see me?” You murmur, looking obviously, something Vada never wanted in the first place, in disbelief to even feel a tear slip down to your cheek.

“No, I swear I just-”

The bell had rang, and before she could try to apologize, and run after you, you squeezed into the crowd of people, heading for the class Vada knew was the only one you didn’t have with her.

Mia watched from a distance, seeing how tears poured from your eyes as you pushed through the crowds of people.

It’s tense, sort of, when Mia drives to her house.

You’re not talking to Vada, headphones are in, basically screaming that you’re closed off right now. Vada wants to talk to you, but she doesn’t know how to apologize for something she didn’t mean.

You look at the window outside and she feels like this might’ve gone back to stage one, it might take weeks for you to open up again.

But yet again, you’re Y/N, she knows you too well to know that you would never try to ignore her for that long.

Mia has to turn up the music again, something that hasn’t really happened for almost a few months, making small talk with Vada.

When you get to her house, Vada holds the door for you, you don’t look at her, just mumble a small, “thanks.”

“Shoot, sorry guys, if you guys are okay with staying here for half an hour or so, that’d be great. I completely forgot I had to stay after school and drop off one of my friends,” Mia immediately slaps her face, grabbing her bag for dance as she looks back, “Fridge is open if you guys want snacks, remote is in the cabinet under the couch, and all those joints ‘n stuff are in the back. K, love you, see ya,” Mia says, blowing a funny air kiss before shutting the door.

Now it’s awkward, out of all days of course Mia has a practice.

It’s quiet, your headphones are hung around your neck, kicking your feet against the carpet uncomfortably, you don’t know if you want to speak.

“Please, can you talk to me?” Vada pleads, making you almost flinch.

“I’m sorry for what I said today, I swear I didn’t mean it in a mean way towards you. I hope you know me well enough to know I would never mean it, okay? I was just getting a little upset over the fact guys would try asking girls out when they don’t know them that much, you know?.. Um.. Yeah. I guess I got a little overprotective. So I’m sorry. I hate when we don’t talk, it makes me feel like you hate me and stuff.”

You look at her, tugging your bottom lip between your lips, then you breathe, “I don’t hate you Vads. I promise. I just got a little taken aback and I honestly felt a little hurt from your words, especially since I knew you weren’t the kind of person to say those things in a mean manner. I forgive you. I really care about you, it was just weird today. I already felt bad rejecting a sweet boy I met and I wasn’t expecting to have my feelings hurt about it, I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I swear I didn’t, I just didn’t think Liam should’ve asked you so early, I didn’t even think you gave any signs.”

You giggle, making Vada’s shoulders relax from your icy facade beginning to melt, “You sound jealous.”

“Oh, nuh-uh.”

“Mm..” You mutter, not believing her, and making her groan.

Vada quickly changes the topic, realizing how red her face was.

“Do you wanna.. Um, go outside? Take a breather for a bit.”

“Okay.”

As you two close the sliding door, Vada sits down next to you, the silence is now comfortable. Her eyes begin to linger on the pack of cigars in front of her.

“I know you’re not the kind to smoke, but do you wanna share a blunt with me?” Vada asks, softly, it’s a question that you know if you say no, she’ll completely get it.

You hesitate, you never smoked before, let alone want to. But you look at Vada’s eyes and your head nods yes.

“Okay.”

You can see the excitement on her face, she makes a small squeal as she begins to roll the blunt, lighting it up with a lighter, you see her brush off some of the dust.

She places her lips on the cigarette, inhaling softly, before exhaling the smoke and a plethora of smoky fog wafts around you.

Her soft eyebrows raise, her eyes flicking to the blunt and your eyes, offering it to you.

Vada hears you breathe, she can almost feel your breath on her face as you look at the cigarette.

“A little help here?” You ask, voice tiny, shy.

“Okay baby,” Vada jokes, seeing the way your lips try not to smile, but fail miserably.

Vada scoots closer to you, so you two are huddled up and she takes your hand, “Okay, you always spin your led pencil in class, just hold the blunt similarly.” She feels the warmth of your hand and it makes her breath hitch. She puts the blunt between your index and middle finger, in which you make sure to hold with grip. Vada taps on your thumb, “Up,” her voice instructs, in which you support your thumb to hold it.

“Hey, now you got it!” she pats your shoulder, like a ‘yay’

She leans closer to you, your face is mere inches apart as she gently places the end of the cigarette in your mouth. Immediately the smoke fills your senses and you look at Vada, she coaxes you, “Inhale, not too much.” You inhale, wait for a moment, then exhale.

“There you go, you’re making me feel like a teacher Y/N,” she clicks her tongue.

She sees the way you exhale through your mouth, and the smoke fades in front of her face, you take another hit, this time you’re full on staring at Vada, with your doe eyes deep into hers.

The smoke wafts around her again, and when you pass it to her, you lean into her. Hearing how her breath hitches, your body pressed against her.

It goes like that for a while, puff, puff, pass. Where Vada offers the blunt to you, but instead of taking it with your finger, your lips part and your teeth nibble on the cigarette for a moment.

It’s like a game. She doesn’t know if it’s the humor you’ve grown, or the teasing. The teasing. But the way you make eye contact with her while your lips capture the blunt you two have shared makes her stomach stir.

While you smoke and you feel the ease of tranquility wash over your senses, Vada grabs some munchies, cookies, some donuts Mia bought the other day, and some potato chips.

She can’t see you. But she knows you’re staring at her, she can feel the way she senses she’s being watched.

You’re there, staring at her, looking down at her baggy clothing, then looking back up while she puts down the snacks. Your cheeks are flushed, you hear the way the music on your phone is beginning to fade, because you’re here, staring at her.

You think you may have taken too many hits, it’s a different kind of high. You just want to take the potato chips and grow wings. Fly away from this place and go to Italy.

Vada notices, you look spaced out, but you’re staring at her. Not as captivated as you were once before, so she nudges you and you immediately look back up at her. She’s high, she sees a glint in your mesmerizing eyes. A glint that makes her want to pull you closer.

“I feel high,” you state, you don’t notice how you sound till your speech is slurred.

“I think we’ve caught on to that,” Vada laughs, with a roll of her eyes as you snack on potato chips.

“I feel like you're prettyyy Vadss.. Pretty dope and badass,” you say, your fingers showing a peace sign and Vada busts out laughing.

“You have some nasty high that makes you use my kind of slang huh Y/N?”

You’re staring again, except the only difference now is she can tell what kind of stare it is. And this time it makes her feel weird, she can’t put her finger on it.

“Oh yeah, uh huh, yeppers,” you murmur, munching on potato chips and throwing it across the outside couch you sat on, “Can we have a cheese pizza instead with tickling my pickling pickle?..”

Flying. You feel like you’re flying, breathing out and in that smoke. Vada feels like she should be laughing but by the time she feels that she already is.

The cigarette in your hand gets twisted and her footsteps on it, cracking it.

“Think that’s enough for today Y/N, you’re not speaking from the heart.”

“Pickles?”

“No.”

“Dill.”

“No pickles!”

“Yes pickl-No!!!-okay..”

Finally, Vada drags you inside Mia’s house, carrying you to the couch and tossing you on it.

“WeeeEeeEEeEEE,” you’re acting silly. Vada has never seen this care-free, childish side in you.

“I think you’re gonna need to sleep this high off sleeping beauty.”

“I can’t sleeeeeep.”

“Well you need to sleep,” Vada forces, authority lacing her voice. You make a grumble.

“Okay fine,” the small cushion on the couch shifts from you moving around so much. Vada watches you in the corner of your eye, finding it a little cute the way you are right now.

She was going to buy some dill pickles while you closed your eyes, but you seemed like you couldn’t, making Vada sigh and approach you.

“Scooch,” her voice rings in your ears, rubbing your hair softly as you make a tired, grumpy sound and scoot a little, your body wrapped into a marshmallowy blanket.

She doesn’t think she would do this, but if she can make you shut up a little bit, and feel your warmth, maybe it’ll be okay. The shorter brunette feels the way you curl into her body and melt like putty. She doesn’t think much of it, what you two are sharing right now.

Vada feels fond, to let you feel safe in her arms, is something she will always cherish.

Her voice hushes you, pressing her lips to your forehead, while you murmur about pickles. The whispers begin to die down, like the ending of a symphony. She cuddles you, you nudge your nose into her chest, “Don’t go Vads..” your voice is barely heard, but she can hear it, “Stay.”

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky,” her pinky raises up and interlocks with yours.

“Okay.”

“Now sleep angel,” her voice is teasing, but part of it she feels like you’ve grown on her, this childish side that she finds sweet.

You don’t respond, of course you don’t, because as soon as she looks down at you asleep on her chest. And by the time she can even process, Vada is asleep with you.

Mia comes home seeing you two sleep together, taking 5 photos and even having the time to take 2 polaroid pictures of you two wrapped into each other.

“Those two are going to be together soon.”

It’s the fourth time you’ve watched Shrek in film class. 4 damn times for 2 months.

Vada is starting to tick, you giggle at it. But she finds Shrek so iconic, she can’t bring herself to hate it. Well for now.

“I fucking feel like I can actually memorize each line by now,” she mutters, it makes you and Mia laugh even harder.

“Why doesn’t Ms. Valentina choose the movies after that? It’s always just Shrek 1.”

Vada doesn’t even know by now.

The lights turn off, the only sunshine you can see is from the warmth of the sun that creeps into the blinds. The best part of having film in this period is that she always has it first on Fridays. Which means when the light switches turn off, it’s the queue where everyone pushes the desks and gets comfy, the desks stay on the side for the rest of the day.

After grunts and small clatter of water bottles falling down from people pushing the desks, everyone crawls to their spot in their own little friend group they have.

Vada already has the couch in the back of the classroom reserved, she doesn’t give no shits, if she’ll fight for it she will.

You find it a little funny, since you remember how people stopped trying to fight, she’s persistent.

She pats the seat next to her and you sit next to her. Mia sits next to you.

And for the rest of the period you three gossip, curl into each other, and chatter.

Once again, at the end of the school day, you, Vada, and Mia are laying together on the couch with several blankets and stuffed animals stacked on top of each other.

“Pass the popcorn please,” you nudge Mia, who’s holding the large popcorn box filled with buttery popcorn (that she kept when she ordered a jumbo sized popcorn box from the movies, that cost 10 damn dollars.) Mia passes it to Vada, which munches on a handful, then hands it to you. Of course with you ending up with some popcorn thrown into your hair.

You happy snack on the popcorn, munching and crunching. Vada and your hands dig into the bottom with the richer buttered popcorn. The brunette’s cheeks feel warm from feeling your hand. Maybe from the blanket. Maybe from the heat of the popcorn. Or maybe something else.

Mia regrets asking Vada for a movie recommendation. As soon as she sees Vada search up ‘Sh’ on the search bar, she groans, seeing how Vada clicked Shrek.

For the second, fucking, time, today.

As the movie begins to roll, the blonde whispers, “If I have children, I’m never gonna let them watch this. It’s been playing way more than enough and I am not risking having to play it every morning when I’m older.”

Vada snorts, “I’m going to tell your children that it’s a great movie, so great that they’ll play it morning and night.”

It goes like that for the next 30 minutes, you two are snug, with a fluffy weighted blanket draped over the three of you as the movie continues.

As the forty five minute mark surpasses, Vada is distracted in the movie. She’s seen it 4 times, yet she’s still watching it. She feels a faint pressure press against her shoulder, she brushes it off, she knows that it’s her brain signaling her to stop watching the movie.

She doesn’t.

But as the minutes pass, the pressure stays, if not stronger.

She feels curious, turning her head away from the projector to find you asleep peacefully on her shoulder. Vada’s eyes soften at the sight of your lips parted, gentle breaths blowing on her neck from your lips and the white of the blanket covering your chin. You’re asleep, and it brings her back to you two asleep on each other the other day. But this time it feels different. You two aren’t high.

You were curled up to her, with your legs tucked and faced to the edge of the couch. She’s seen you asleep before, when you were so tired one hung out that Mia lent you your room. Vada only peeked inside to see you asleep and still like a rock. You aren’t the kind to fall asleep easily, let alone snore. But Vada could hear a soft snore fall from your lips.

Vada can’t help it, but she feels a grin trying to form on her face, as you curl up to her, she tucks a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Now your hair is draped all over her shoulders, she sniffs it, nudging her nose to your hair. Your shampoo smells again like strawberries.

Except this time it smells more intoxicating.

It smells so lightly sweet. But it makes her feel dizzy, her nose to the top of your head, relying on your scent to comfort her.

You shift lightly, a soft murmur being made as your eyes slightly twitch, but fall asleep just as fast when she takes a strand of hair in her fingertips and curls it.

As you're asleep and Vada is focused on you, Mia mumbles against her, quiet enough to not wake you. The TV was already loud enough, plus you were all the way in the corner.

“You like Y/N,” she says, and it wasn’t an opinion, it was a rhetorical statement.

Vada slows down with her fingers curling in your hair, turning to face Mia.

She feels a stutter get caught into her throat, “Uh, w-wait what?”

“You like Y/N,” she says again, her blue eyes looking at Vada, searching for an answer. An answer she already knew, she just needed to hear it from her.

“N-no, what? Mia, what makes you think that?”

It sounds stupid to the blonde, a small laugh coming from her, she speaks quieter so you can’t hear her, although you’re knocked off asleep.

“Well, to start off, since she stepped into our film class for the first day, you couldn’t stop staring at her Vads. And when I invited her so we could get to know her better, I’ve never seen you so quiet with someone until you met her. You’re always so open to meeting new people. At first, I thought you were nervous,” Mia laughs, finding it almost unbelievable when she says it out loud, “and never thought the Vada Cavell would be nervous to meet new people. But you look at her like the missing puzzle piece you’ve taken years to find. You look at her like she’s given you the light to your universe.”

Vada wants to roll her eyes, tell Mia how insane she is, she wants to throw her hands in the air. But she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to wake you up, she just wants to press her lips to your forehead and tell you that everything is okay when you wake up.

But it all comes down at her at once. She can’t believe it herself. Well she knew she felt something. The the way she sees things now. Where she’d walk into a library filled with books and think, “Y/N would love it here.” Or when she’d smell the aroma in the air when Amelia and her mother would bake cookies together, and can’t help, but think about you.

Mia herself has a guitar, and when there are days when you can’t make it, Vada spends two hours as her best friend talks to her to practice. So maybe one day, when she sees you pull out her guitar, she’ll say, “I can play it too.”

And when your pretty eyes already reveal the yearn you feel to hear her play, she’ll play all the songs that she’s practiced while she eagers you to cuddle up to her. Then you’ll realize they are all your favorite songs. Because Vada spent every two hours when you’re not there to practice for you.

She hears Mia keep speaking, “You bring her up every time you can, okay? You’re reminded of her everywhere you go, and I’ve never seen you or her look at someone the way you do with each other. Remember that day you two first met? The whole car rode to seven eleven, you were staring at her staring at the window.”

“You’re falling for her day by day Vada,” Mia says, and the brunette can see the way Mia begins to smile, “You just don’t notice it until you realize how much she means to you. You used to refuse to take the extra guitar I had, but when you saw the way she played riffs, you took it and played songs that you knew one day you would want to play for her.”

Mia pauses, then speaks again, “You should’ve seen how shattered she was when you grew over protective of her and said some things that came out wrong. You didn’t see the way as soon as she left for 5th period she was going to cry. Come on, and you two fucking fell asleep with each other. It’s like I’m reading the slowest burn wattpad book in reality.”

The shorter girl is still stroking through your hair, as you’re asleep with soft snores coming out of your mouth every once in a while, still trying to process something she knew was true for a long time.

Vada doesn’t want to admit it, but she exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding, “I don’t know. I just feel really fond of her I guess. She’s grown really special to me and I think she’s someone I never knew I needed in my life. She’s there to you know, listen. Or be open to whatever..” Vada plays with the string of her oversized shorts while letting you nuzzle to her neck. “I guess she’s more important to me than I thought.”

Mia silently squeals, nudging Vada’s shoulder, “You can’t not convince me she likes you too, okay? Now you better fucking confess or I’m going to do a backflip and crack your neck open.”

Vada hasn’t felt nervous since she met you, but today she was nervous nervous. She bought sky blue, pink, ivory, and sweet apple tulips.

It feels so cheesy, but she’s fucking here for it.

She prepares a basket with everything she knows about you, lego flowers, a cow stuffy with some random coquette bow attached to it, (that she may have not asked your older brother what animal you liked.) As soon as she shopped, the cute little cow with the laced bow wrapped around it was calling for her.

She fills the basket with kisses, tears off the most beautiful, raw pieces of poetry, she read and thought of you. She tears the extra copies of the songs she played on the guitar because of you, and adds it as scraps.

And of course, she adds small fairy lights, then attaches all the photos she has with you. She has never been more thankful for Mia always taking 2 polaroids whenever you take one together, so she can keep one and add it to her memory book.

She’s anxious, picking at her fingers, it’s like when she first experienced the shooting. Except this is a hundred times worse.

Mia drops her off Saturday morning, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “The worst she can say is no,” and by the way Vada clenches the basket she has for you, Mia quickly adds, “Which is a .00001% chance. Trust me, I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

Vada rolls her eyes, clearly not helping easing her anxiety as she closes the door and approaches your door, knocking softly.

When it’s open, she’s greeted with the sight of a newly awoken you, looking sleepy, but she thinks it makes you even cuter.

You’re wearing the plaid pants she lent you, she remembers you couldn’t stop wearing it because it was so comfy. She let you have her extra fourth pair. She found it funny whenever she saw you waddling around in her oversized clothes.

“Mhh..” You keep rubbing your eyes, a yawn escaping out of you, “Vads it’s 8AM on a Saturday morning, what’s going o-” you finally open your eyes to have a nervous fidgety Vada with tulips, some Valentine's day throwup basket and a heart shaped balloon.

Vada takes a deep breath before pushing the tulips towards your way, “Okay, Y/N, I don’t know what to say. But I wanted to tell you for a while now. I notice the way I bring you up everyday, or how long my gaze lingers when you’re in the same room as me. Or how I find a way to bring our friendship up every second I can. I’ve grown the motivation to do the hobbies I’ve seen you once do. And.. I’m not the person to.. Get nervous when I meet people for the first time. But, you’ve been someone who I feel protective over, and you’re special to me in a way where you’re someone I didn’t ever think I needed in my life. But meeting you has really made you be the highlight of my day. I didn’t think it was possible to feel butterflies, let alone these fluttering sparks when you’re near. Or to realize the feelings I felt when Liam gave you flowers and wanted to ask you out was jealousy. It just feels right to have you with me, here. You’ve really distracted me from all the things I’ve found stressful, and no one has ever been able to do that. I didn’t even think it was possible. I-I don’t even know how, but it was like some invisible string tied us when I met you, but I’m so thankful you’re in my life. And it’s so weird to say this now..”

Vada pauses, catching her breath and trying not to make eye contact with you, but she can see your cheeks getting rosy. Your hands are full with her flowers. You certainly don’t look awkward like you once did with Liam. More like, overly shy now. You’re blushing. And this time your hands don’t feel clammy. This time, you’re so desperate to feel her hands on your waist and have your hands tucked around her to hug her.

Vada gulps and blurts out almost too quickly to comprehend, “But I like you. Will you go out for dinner with me this Friday night? I get if you don’t feel the same, and I just want you to know I don’t want our friendship to be ruined at all but-”

“Vada, I’d love to go out with you.” You interrupt, wanting her to shut up and kiss you. To do all the sweet things you thought of when you smoked with her, to fly with her and carry her home.

“R-really? You’re not just saying that?”

“No. I think.. I don’t know, I think we’ve grown really really close, in a way where I never had someone that I could rely on so much. I really didn’t think meeting you could, you know, make my day a hundred times better, and I always felt confused with my feelings, you know? In a way where I feel like friends shouldn’t feel the sweet way I think about you?”

“Yeah..” Vada murmurs, “Yeah,” she says, more understanding.

She turns to you, you look like spring. The season, with your hands filled with flowers, your hair perfectly ruffled and your hair curling in your ends. Vada speaks again, “Do you want to give us a try? You know, I just don’t ever want us to not be friends one day because we didn’t work out.”

“Please,” you whisper, and when you say that she immediately pulls you in for a hug.

This hug is just as comforting as all the other ones she’s given you in the past. But now, the thought of this hug being something more isn’t there anymore. Because it is something more. It makes you bury your nose into her chest.

Mia smiles in the distance, snapping a photo of you two hugging, “Those two love birds, I called it.”

Friday night

Here you are, in a black dress you remember you fell in love with when you went shopping. It was a simple dress where your shoulders were exposed, a laced neck and you put on some hoops.

The dress was not too short, but it stopped a little before your knees.

And of course, a string tying the prettiest bow on the back of your waist, you didn’t want to admit it, but you felt pretty when you looked at the mirror.

Your mother dropped you off outside of the restaurant Vada reserved.

She kisses your cheek goodbye, winking for good luck as you wave and watch her go. Now you kind of regret not bringing a jacket. You should’ve brought the leather one you were thinking about at the last minute, and decided not to.

Your headphones are plugged in, you’re 15 minutes early, and as the minutes tick, you feel colder from the sun beginning to set.

Cologne by beabadoobee is playing, you ruffle your curled hair, till you feel the music abruptly stop and your headphones being wrapped around your neck.

You can hear Vada’s voice, ruffling your hair, “Hi,” she says, not more awkward than you feel right now. You feel her gaze linger on your figure, and suddenly you feel hot, the cold you felt 5 minutes ago was completely gone.

She rubs your shoulders, and you can tell what you’re wearing just made her fall much more for you.

What she’s wearing is not Vada. Not her basketball shorts and oversized tees. This is Vada, in all black with the lightest makeup, you can still see the freckles you love. Her hair is half up half down, and you brush her bangs to the side.

“Vads,” you breathe, and the way you call her that makes her heart pound ferociously, “You look pretty.”

“I tried my best, how do I look, silly pretty girl?” Vada twirls her dress, making you laugh.

“Like something Vada would never wear, but I love it.”

“You’re the one to talk, all soft and shy girl wearing something that I would definitely not stop staring at this whole evening. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, come on Y/N,” she tugs your wrist slightly, noticing how your wrists are decorated with the bracelets you two made together in the past. It makes her smile while she points at it, “Good decoration choice.”

“Only for the best.”

As you two enter the restaurant, you reach for Vada’s hand, she can see the way you’re searching for her. Like a puppy whining for its mother. She drifts her hand towards you and interlaces it with yours.

The place is dimly lit. The only light is from the sunsetty view and the fairy lights that are hung.

It’s romantic.

And you feel all blushy, like some teenage girl in a friends to lovers book.

Vada feels the way you grasp onto her hands, your fingertips squeezing, she can already tell you’re nervous, she calms you down with a circle with her thumb on the back of your palm.

You two sit next to each other, looking at the menu.

It’s getting a little cold, and you shift, “Okay, not to ruin the mood, but I have no clue what in the hell I should get,” Vada laughs, the Y/N humor she knew was clearly showing.

“What about we share some alfredo and their bread? Their bread is so filling and to die for.”

You nod, to go with the flow, “Okay Vads, whatever you think is good must be yummy.”

You two order and spend the time talking, by the next 15 minutes of waiting, you’re cuddled into her, playing with her hair.

“Hey, you’re messing my hair up silly.”

“I like playing with it. It’s very smooth!”

Vada presses her lips to your temple, rubbing your cheeks to make your blush more apparent.

“Stop that.”

“Well I think it’s cute when your face is all pink.”

You make a quiet whine, Vada still smells your toasted marshmallow and strawberry scent. The scent she could never get tired of. The intoxicating sweetness.

A few moments later with cuddles and talks, your food arrives and you share the noodles, digging in. Vada drapes your hair back so it won't fall into the sauce. As you eat and munch, Vada twirls the noodles on her fork and brings it to your lips, looking into your eyes. You look back up at her, feeling tiny as you open your mouth and she feeds you. You feed her back, letting her rub the small speck of sauce on your cheek with her thumb.

“Stop being so shy,” Vada whispers, nudging your nose to hers.

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never done this before,” you whisper back.

“Well, it’s just me, nothings gonna change, I swear, maybe I’ll throw more pillows during pillow fights though,” she jokes, and that makes you nuzzle your nose more to hers.

You press your lips to her cheek and continue snacking on bread rolls and dessert.

“The stars are really bright today,” you say, your hand in Vadas as you two are staring at the scene above you, the sunset long gone and replaced with the light from the moon.

“Wellll, I think that just means that we’re amazing for each other, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“Nope, it’s a yes.”

“Yep.”

The heat you felt when you first saw Vada when your date began was gone, you were cold. No doubt did the girl not notice, seeing your slightly trembling figure. She drapes her leather jacket over you as you make a small noise of appreciation, sniffling your nose. The jacket immediately warms you up, you pull it to your shoulders more.

Her soft eyes look down at you, and she sees the way the stars reflect off your eyes, those eyes. She feels lucky to be able to be greeted by them every single day you’re around.

“Thank you for today,” you finally breathe, and Vada boops your nose.

“Well thank you for always being sweet and silly. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anyone else.”

You boop her nose back, sharing a slurpee that of course you got from seven eleven. It brings her deja vu. To remember how you first politely refused on buying a slurpee when you first met Vada. Then beginning to use the trick she taught you to poke your finger under the dispenser and lick your finger. Then buying your own small slurpee. Then to share it with one straw.

As you two reach her house, she twirls you on the porch and lifts you up, making you squeal and giggle. It’s quiet, comfortable silence as she looks down at your lips. And she knows you want her too. Your legs wrap around her, and you lean and press your lips to hers.

She feels sparks and a flock of butterflies stirring in your stomach when you’re around, but as she feels your soft, warmth of your lips on hers, she feels fireworks. Electricity shocking her whole body. She hears you make a soft moan of longing, something you wanted for so long. She wanted you for so long too. Her lips press against yours more, feeling your desperateness as she leans more pressure onto you. You taste like sweet strawberries, indulging on the way you make a noise of wanting more more more of her lips as her tongue runs over your bottom lip.

You both pull away, panting, cheeks flushed, your body feels like it’s flaming into oblivion, she grabs your waist tightly, then a small smile forms on both of your faces.

“I’m pretty sure you kiss during like.. Your fourth date.”

“Oh,” Vada says, faking to look sad before cracking up a grin, “Oh well, we’re too in love with each other and we broke that! Too bad, so sad.”

You giggle as she twirls you around and brings you into her room, kissing your neck along the way, she tosses you into the bed and you squeal, kicking your legs as she crawls next to you.

“Come here,” she whispers, you scoot closer to embrace and she wraps her arms around you, switching the fireplace on and playing some music in the background.

She spoons you, but you turn your front to be pressed to her chest, feeling her kisses on your neck and her fingers ghosting along your jawline.

“Pretty girl,” she coos, seeing the way you were a little tired, “Sleepy?”

“Yes.”

You bury your nose into her, her sweet, musky, coconut scent comforts you. The way your scent mixes and it just smells so… Your eyes are fluttering before you can come up with a thought. You stir in Vada’s arms, feeling her arms wrapped around your waist and your limbs tangled together.

“Don’t let go, stay,” you whisper, like you once did before in the past.

“I won’t, pinky promise, I’ll be here baby. Go to sleep, okay?”

You both begin to fall asleep, with polaroids hanging off you wrapped around vines around Vada’s bed. There was one with you two holding slushies and showing off your purple tongues, another one with you two in a group photo, one that Vada loved the most, where you two were cuddling.

miaa: you owee meee omg u guys r adorable, update me tmmrw vads

Your pinkies interlock and your cuddle up to her. She can see the way your eyes twitch from closing. She knows you’re asleep when she hears your breathing begin to even out. And she definitely knows she’s your comfort, because a soft snore slips out of you no longer than 5 minutes later.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n

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amakumos · 1 year

Text

kiss and cry — yang jungwon.

synopsis. At the age of 22, Yang Jungwon wants to retire. The ice, which was what he considered his second home, does not seem as welcoming as it used to be. Figure skating is no longer fun - the sport that he devoted his entire childhood to seems more of a chore, rather than a passion. He claims that this season will be his last as a competitive figure skater - that is, until he meets you, who somehow makes him fall in love with the ice (and you) again.

genre. fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, slowburn (?), figure skating au

pairing. figure skater! jungwon x figure skater fem! reader

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, coaching abuse and unhealthy training habits, jungwon is 22, reader is 21, and both compete for south korea. set during the 2025/2026 figure skating season. major character retirement (wait and find out)

word count. 22k

author's note. gosh. am i surprised that the most i've ever written is a figure skating fic? no, not particularly. i was watching so many of yuzuru hanyu's programs while writing this and oh god. only fanyus will understand the immense impact the beat drop into the chsq has in pyc seimei. fucking hell that's powerful. anyways, this fic is my baby and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ^_^ here's a playlist u can listen to while reading if you'd like and feel free to lmk what u think!

ONE. negative (goe.)

Where is home to Yang Jungwon?

Jungwon thinks that he has two.

First, he would obviously say his apartment. The plush couch, the comfort of his own bed, and sunlight peeking through the curtains in the morning – Jungwon is comfortable when he is home.

His second home, albeit a little bit unconventional – is the ice skating rink. His blades gliding against the smooth ice, cool air hitting his face as he skates, the chatter of his training partners ringing in his ears when he’s trying to focus that he finds annoying when he’s trying to focus.

But his second home seems a little less welcoming and comfortable lately. The passion that he once held for the sport that he loved seems to be diminishing day by day, like a fire that’s almost been put out.

Jungwon devoted his entire life to this sport. Maybe a little too much of it, even.

His childhood was seemingly swept away by the ice. Instead of running around the playground, making friends with other children his age, Jungwon was spending hours of his day jumping and spinning, wearing boots with blades on them.

At one point, even falling over on a jump that he’d have to repeat for hours seemed like something he could use as determination. I’ll be able to do it the next time I jump it, was his thought.

But now, when he falls, all he feels is that he wants to quit.

Jungwon knows that if he gave up that easily when he was younger, he wouldn’t even be half the figure skater he was today. Standing on top of that podium didn’t bring him the same amount of joy as when he stood there a couple years ago. A small smile would grace his lips, showing courtesy – but deep inside, Jungwon could only describe the feeling he felt as numbness.

Because what did all these medals truly mean to him? Success brought him joy a couple years ago, but now it only puts pressure on him.

Pressure to do better. Pressure to get the scores that he deserved. Pressure to show the other skaters that he was better.

Figure skating is no longer fun for Yang Jungwon.

The sport feels draining – as if every minute spent skating on that sheet of ice sucked all the energy out of him. The movements that he did with such vigour just a couple years ago now seem sloppy to him, even if they aren’t to the audience. His limbs move around robotically, without elegance or gracefulness.

Yang Jungwon feels like a robot.

Programmed to do this quad lutz at a certain moment. Programmed to execute the hydroblade to perfection a few seconds later. Even programmed to smile brightly, holding up the gold medal while standing at the top of the podium when he doesn’t feel a single emotion at all.

So, Jungwon thinks it’s time to hang up his skates.

Yes, 22 might be a little too early to end his career as a competitive figure skater, but Jungwon is done. He’s tired of the ice, which is something that he never thought he’d say, or even think. The ice doesn’t bring him joy, and competitions don’t bring the adrenaline and thrill that he’d used to feel. Winning doesn’t make him feel pride. Instead, he feels burdened.

“Next season will be my last season as a competitive figure skater,” he tells his coach, Irene.

Irene isn’t shocked. But she’s strongly against Jungwon’s decision. Jungwon knew she’d react like this.

“You’re so young, Jungwon! You still have a couple of years to go – you can make it to the next Olympics too. You’ll be 26 then, and you can… you know, retire after skating at the biggest stage.”

“I will be skating at the biggest stage next year, if I make it into the Olympic team. Then, I will be retiring at the biggest stage.” Jungwon tells her, lacing up his skates. Even tying the laces feels frustrating – and Jungwon knows that he truly does not want to do this anymore.

“But you have to give a reason, Jungwon. I know you’re tired, and you lack passion for skating, but why don’t you just take a break? Maybe you’ll regain your motivation, regain your passion for the sport. You’re already one of the greats – you could be even greater.”

Irene would consider Jungwon to be her star pupil. He’s stuck with her ever since he swapped coaches when he was 8 – and he’s never spoken a word about wanting to be coached by anyone else. In fact, Jungwon was one of Irene’s first students after she herself retired from competition. Jungwon was her first student to podium internationally, first student to land a quad in competition, and first student to make it to the Olympics in 2022, back when Jungwon was 18.

He placed 6th. Not bad, for his first ever Olympics.

Jungwon remembers the day when he was called up to the South Korean Olympic team. All he felt was pride. On every young athlete’s bucket list, being able to compete in the Olympics was at the top of that list, and Jungwon was no exception. He remembers being an emotional wreck, crumpling into tears of joy. The Olympics was a figure skater’s biggest stage. Skating on Olympic ice seemed unreal, until Jungwon found out that he would be doing exactly that.

Jungwon wants to feel the exact feeling he felt when he skated on Olympic ice. He wants to feel pride, passion, and joy – not emptiness. Jungwon knew that he was competing with the best of the best, and a medal at the Olympics would be incredible, but Jungwon just wanted to skate. The Olympics seemed to be like a mark for him – he’s made it. He’s skated at the biggest stage for an athlete, and no matter the result, he would be grateful and happy that he was able to compete on Olympic ice.

4 years ago, Jungwon just wanted to skate.

Now, Jungwon wants to leave the ice behind.

You could be even greater. Irene’s words have no impact on Jungwon. He doesn’t think he has any desire to become greater. If anything, Jungwon just wants to learn how to love this sport again – but he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to.

“That’s the problem, Irene. I don’t want to be greater anymore. I’m tired of this. I have no passion in what I do – why would I continue doing something that I don’t love?”

“Jungwon–”

“I don’t think anything can change my mind, Irene. I’m really done,” he sighs. Jungwon gives his coach a small, sad smile. “So… let’s make the next season great, hmm? I’ll go out with a bang.”

Irene gives Jungwon a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay.”

“I have music ideas already,” Jungwon says, and Irene nods. “Tell me what you have in mind, and we can go through it with Taemin.”

“I was thinking for the short program, A Walk In The Skies by Joe Hisaishi. From the Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack, and for the free, World Dreams. Also by Joe Hisaishi. A couple fans from a few years back told me that they’d like to see me skate to those songs, so… I’ve decided I will. They gave me a list of other options, but… I like these two the best.”

“Okay. I’ll talk with Taemin about them.” Irene says, and Jungwon notices the look on his coach’s face. He knows that she’s not happy with his decision, because Irene’s never really liked people who give up. Jungwon thinks that to her, his decision seems to be as if he’s saying that he’s giving up.

In one way, he is. But now that Jungwon thinks about it, does he have any other goals in this sport? He’s won Nationals. He’s won Grand Prix Final. He’s won Four Continents. He’s won Worlds. He’s been to the Olympics. The one thing he hasn’t done is win an Olympic medal, and maybe he’ll be able to do it next season. But Jungwon thinks that he’s checked off most of the boxes on his figure skating career goal list, and combined with the fact that he’s simply got no love for the sport left, he thinks hanging up his skates is the best idea.

He gives Irene an apologetic look, even though he feels like he doesn’t really have to apologise for anything. He then makes his way onto the rink, skating a few laps around to warm up.

He skates his program from last season as practice, first jumping a quad salchow that he lands cleanly. The sound of the blades scratching the surface of the ice no longer brings him comfort, but Jungwon continues skating around the rink as he enters into a back counter triple axel, landing it cleanly as well.

Jungwon executes the rest of the elements well, with no falls or underrotations on his jumps. He presses his lips into a thin line when he finishes skating his program, putting his hands on his hips as he sighs.

“That was good.” Irene said. “Gold medal worthy.”

“Thanks.” Jungwon replies. He would usually feel nothing but joy when Irene would compliment his skating like that.

But Jungwon finds that a gold medal is something he does not desire anymore.

TWO. triple double camel spin axel

The off-season is great.

The pressure of competition is gone, and you’re able to rest without intense preparation and training for a couple weeks before you’re back to your usual routine.

You do decide to head to the rink today though, just so you can get in some skating time with your new coach.

Irene Bae was your idol growing up. When you saw her skate at the Olympics from the comfort of your own home at the age of 4, you knew that you wanted to be like her. Graceful and elegant, yet powerful and strong on the ice.

Your parents enrolled you in skating classes at the age of 3, and it was like the ice was practically calling your name. Your first coach, Hyuna, had told your parents that you had talent — and encouraged them to let you continue skating.

And so you did. As the years went by, what your first coach said proved to be true — you did have talent. You won medal after medal, and you were said to be a rising star.

So when the opportunity arose for you to be coached by none other than your idol, you of course had to take it.

When she complimented you on your skating, you nearly screamed. Having the person you’ve admired for your whole life telling you that you were doing great gave you a huge confidence boost — and you’d like to think that her words encouraged you and made you do even better than you usually did during your free skate at Worlds.

Being coached by the Irene Bae seemed surreal. She won one silver, one bronze medal at the Olympics, was a 2 time worlds winner and a six-time national champion. She was even known for being an incredible coach, coaching skaters like Yang Jungwon, and Kim Jiwon — who would now be your training mates.

You feel nothing but excitement when you enter the Taereung International Skating Rink, and you hear the sound of blades across ice that brings a smile to your lips. You see Irene, standing rinkside with her arms crossed, and skating on the rink, is Yang Jungwon.

Yang Jungwon’s made quite a name for himself in the last few years. 6th at the 2022 Olympics, a great finish for someone who was only 18 at the time. He also just won Worlds, and was a five-time national champion.

Yang Jungwon is an incredible skater. His movements on the ice are as fluid and soft as water, but when he jumps, he’s incredibly powerful, like a rocket taking off. You’ve seen many people say that Jungwon’s one of the few ‘complete skaters’ — those who can combine artistry with jumping seem to be extremely rare nowadays.

He’s one of those skaters that can get you mesmerised the second he steps onto the ice, and when he finishes his program, loud applause resounds throughout the arena, with tons of people throwing cat plushies onto the ice.

Jungwon is incredibly talented. Thinking about the fact that you two are going to be training mates brings a smile to your face — all the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon went quite well. You remember his pleasant voice and his kind smile, the one where his eyes crinkle into crescents and could make anyone swoon.

You make your way over to Irene, who turns her head and greets you with a kind smile when she sees you. “(Name)!” she beams, wrapping you in a hug. “Nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Irene!” you say, and she smiles at you. “I’m excited to be working with you.” she tells you, and her words just fill you up with joy.

“Thank you so much,” you beam. “I’m excited to be coached by you.” A smile graces Irene’s lips at your words. “Jungwon’s on the ice right now, with Taemin. He’s just learning the last part of his choreography for his short program for next season.” she tells you, and you nod.

“Jiwon’s gone for lunch break, and Eunchae and Jongseob should be somewhere around here… you can go meet with them and say hi later.”

“Sounds good.”

“Irene!” Taemin, the choreographer, calls out to her. “Jungwon’s got this. He’ll absolutely kill it.”

You notice how Irene and Taemin’s smiles seem wider than Jungwon’s when Taemin says that. The smile plastered on Jungwon’s lips barely reaches his eyes.

“Why don’t you go lace up your skates? You and Jungwon can share the rink.” Irene suggests to you, and you nod. You find a seat, pulling out your skates from your skate bag as you take your regular sports shoes off, slipping into your skating boots. You tie the laces incredibly quickly — after all, you have been doing this for years.

You take off your skate guards, leaving them on the bench as you skate onto the rink, skating laps to warm yourself up as you put your gloves on.

Somewhere along the way, you find yourself accompanied by Jungwon, who catches up to you. “Hey,” he says. “Heard that Irene’s coaching you now.”

“Yeah,” you beam. “We’ll be training mates from now on, huh?” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Saw you practicing your short program for next season… you’ve started quite early. Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack?”

“Mhm,” Jungwon says. “I like to get started earlier, so I’m more familiar with it when it’s time to compete. Do you have any ideas for the music you might skate to?”

“Oh, I’ve got no idea. My friend told me to skate to Bolero, though.” you say, and you see Jungwon grimace at your words. You let out a loud laugh that makes Jungwon chuckle. “Bolero? Really?” he asks.

“Riki knows nothing about figure skating, but I think he goes on Twitter to find what music people hate seeing skaters skate to the most… Bolero is definitely one of them, which is probably why he recommended it to me.” you laugh. “Once he even asked me if I could do a ‘triple double camel spin axel’. Like what in the world is that?”

Your words make Jungwon burst into laughter, and you think it’s one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“A triple double camel spin axel? Your friend might just have invented a new jump.” he quips, and you nod. “Are you ready for the Olympics next year?” he asks you, and you shake your head.

“Who says I’ll make it?”

“Of course you’ll make it. Your skating’s great.” Jungwon says, and you thank him. “You’ll definitely make it. To next year and the one after. You’ll probably make it to the one in 2034 too.”

“Hah, that’s funny. But no, I won’t be making it to the 2030 or the 2034 one. It’s probably nice to think about, though.” Jungwon replies.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What? Why? I mean... maybe 2034 is a bit of a stretch, but surely the 2030 one.”

“I’m retiring after this season.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at his words. Yang Jungwon was going to retire? At the age of 22? Was he joking?

You almost can’t believe it.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like skating anymore.” he hums, and he says it so casually. “It’s more of a chore now, rather than something I love. I guess I fell out of love with the ice.”

You can somewhat understand how he feels. You had burnout too, but you never got to the point where you wanted to quit. You just wanted to take a break, to refresh your mind and to take care of your health and body.

But Jungwon sounds like he’s determined to quit. As if nothing will get him to change his mind.

“What would it take for you to fall back in love with it?” you ask.

Jungwon shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think anything would be able to change my mind at this point. Skating is just so incredibly… draining. I want to enjoy it as much as I used to, but I just don’t think I can continue competing.”

He sounds like he’s truly given up hope on finding love for the sport again, and it makes your heart ache. Yang Jungwon is undoubtedly one of the best figure skaters you’ve ever seen, and to see him possibly end his career because he just simply ran out of love for the sport saddens you.

And for some reason, you want to try and get him to fall back in love with the ice again.

So with a sudden burst of confidence and determination, you decide to ask him: “Are you free any time next week?”

Jungwon looks at you, puzzled. “Yes?”

“I’m going to try and get you to fall back in love with the ice.”

“(Name), I’ve made up my mind—”

“That’s fine. I just want you to enjoy skating again. No competition, just having fun. You know, I was in the audience the day you won the Grand Prix final two years ago. You looked so, so, incredibly happy — I want you to feel the same feeling you felt when you were skating on that ice.”

Jungwon looks at you hesitantly. “You’d do that for me?”

You nod. “We can get to know each other better too. What do you say?”

Jungwon pauses for a moment to think.

“Sure.”

You beam at him. “Cool. I’ll give you my number after practice and we can make arrangements.”

Jungwon nods, and you two end your conversation there, focusing on training instead.

As you land a clean triple salchow-triple toeloop on the ice, you add a new goal to your bucket list.

Get Yang Jungwon to fall in love with figure skating again.

THREE. seal skating aid

You meet up with Jungwon two days later at a public skating rink with a bright smile on your face.

He looks confused when he sees the amount of people who have come to the rink today. “How are we supposed to skate with this many people here?”

You smile, lacing up your skates. “We can still skate. We just can’t jump.”

Jungwon looks hesitantly at you. “But skating laps is boring,” he says. “How am I going to fall back in love with skating like this?”

“Because,” you say. “This was how you first fell in love with it as a kid. You didn’t know how to jump, how to spin, or how to do spirals. Sometimes doing simple things, such as just skating around the rink can be fun. There’s no pressure of needing to execute certain elements properly — look at everyone skating here today. They’re just here to have fun.”

Jungwon looks at the people skating on the rink. There’s a bunch of couples, holding hands as they enjoy their date. There’s also lots of kids taking classes, learning how to balance on their skates just like he did when he was younger. There’s also two or three people who do seem like they’re good skaters, and Jungwon spots one of them doing a Biellmann spin right in the middle of the rink.

And you are right. This was what the first rink Jungwon stepped on looked like. The rink he skated on wasn’t as busy as this, but sure enough, there were couples, kids that were learning to skate, and people like the girl doing the Biellmann spin was what made him think that he wanted to be able to do something like that.

You motion for Jungwon to join you as you step onto the ice, and he does. You two skate around the rink slowly — much slower than Jungwon is used to. He sees a couple of young kids who seemingly recognise you and him, pointing you two out to their friends.

“You’re famous,” he says, chuckling. “You’re more famous, Mr Placed 6th In The Olympics.” you reply, and he shakes his head.

“It’s still 6th. Not a podium finish.” he says, and you sigh. “6th is crazy good for an 18 year old. Plus, you were competing with the greatest of the greats.”

“That’s true, I suppose.” Jungwon muses. “I’ll just do better this year. Might as well go out with a bang, hmm?”

“I guess so.” you say.

Jungwon looks around him, seeing little kids who are seemingly learning how to skate for the first time struggle with their balance. He discreetly motions for them to put their arms out and bend their knees, to which they do. They seem to balance a lot better, and Jungwon gives them a soft smile.

Those kids remind him of himself when he was first learning how to skate. A helmet perched on his head with his knee and elbow guards on, and rental skates that Jungwon would never even dare to wear now. He ran onto the ice, falling over — then getting back up. Falling over, then getting back up.

When it comes to skating, Jungwon now feels like he’s fallen. And he can’t seem to just muster the strength to get himself back up.

Perhaps you will be able to get him to ignite the passion that he had for figure skating once again, but there’s a chance that it won’t happen.

Jungwon realised that it hurts to fall out of love with the very thing you sacrificed your entire life for. His childhood was spent at the rink, doing the one thing he knew best — skating. Now that he realises his passion for the sport has crumbled away, all he can ask himself is: was it worth it?

Jungwon wants to say yes. But he isn't quite sure if he believes that now, considering that the ice no longer feels like home.

“You’re thinking a lot.” you hum, and Jungwon nods. “I was just thinking about… how I started.

You motion for him to go on.

“I used to love skating. I loved it more than anything,” Jungwon says, staring at the ice. He once said that the boots on his feet somehow felt molded to his body, since he wore them so much. But now, these exact boots are uncomfortable — they are suffocating, and Jungwon knows that when he's under the pressure of competition, he’ll want nothing more than to take them off. “But now, I just feel emptiness. And I’m just thinking… what could’ve gone wrong?”

“I don’t think anything went wrong,” you reply. “I think you pushed too hard. Like you said, you devoted your entire life to this sport. Even the brightest of flames burn out. You just have to find the thing that’ll be able to light it back up again.”

“That’s poetic.” Jungwon says. “Being a poet was my backup career option, if this whole… skating on knife boots thing didn’t work out.” you quip, and Jungwon cracks a smile.

“This conversation got deep,” Jungwon says. “Sorry for bringing the mood down. I know we’re here to have fun.” he says, and you shrug. “It’s alright. Maybe letting out your feelings about it will help too,” you say.

“Maybe,” Jungwon says. “But I think I’ve been thinking about them too much lately. I need to try and rid myself of these emotions, because I’ll just end up overthinking and I’ll end up spiralling.”

You nod. “That’s fair.”

You then spot a seal shaped skating aid, and you look at Jungwon with a twinkle in your eye. You skate a little faster to get to it, and you bring it back to where Jungwon’s standing, and you motion for him to sit down.

“What?” Jungwon asks, confused.

“Sit down!” you beam. “I’ll push you around the rink.”

Jungwon reluctantly sits down, burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment. He feels like he’s 4 years old, with his sister pushing him around the rink. But he also remembers how fun it was, the cool air hitting his face as loud music played from the speakers in the rink. Christmas music, Jungwon remembered it being.

“I’m gonna push you now,” you say, and Jungwon nods. You start skating, and you begin to skate faster — your blades scratch across the surface of the ice as a small smile begins to make its way across Jungwon’s lips.

Jungwon never thought skating laps could be so… fun. It’s like he forgot this feeling — skating with no jumps, no spins, no spirals. Just moving forward. It was so simple.

Simple is fun, Jungwon realises.

Simply skating forwards seems more exciting than the intricate movements he has to make. He doesn’t need to worry about possibly falling on a quad, he doesn’t need to worry about underrotating a jump, or getting an edge call — he can just skate.

“Wait,” Jungwon suddenly says, and then you stop.

“Let me push you,” he says, getting up. You nod, plopping yourself down onto the seat as Jungwon grips the handle on the skating aid, which is shaped like a seal’s tail.

Jungwon starts skating, pushing the skating aid forward. He skates around the rink, moving faster with each lap he makes, and you put your hands up as if you’re riding a rollercoaster.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” you ask.

Yes, Jungwon thinks. This is quite fun.

Despite just skating laps in a public skating rink, Jungwon thinks this might be the most fun he’s had on the rink in the last year.

FOUR. one ice show, two realisations

You see Jungwon two days later at the rink.

He waves at you from the ice, taking a sip from his water bottle. His phone pings with a message, and he picks it up to view the text.

His fingers fly over the screen as he types a response while you lace up your skates. “Who’s texting?” you ask, skating onto the rink.

“Oh, just Yuzu.”

“You’re talking about two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuzuru Hanyu?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah. We’re friends.” he says, placing his phone back onto the bench.

“What’d he say?” you ask — you don’t mean to be nosy, but Jungwon seems more than comfortable with telling you what the Japanese figure skater had texted him about. “Fantasy on Ice,” Jungwon replies. “The organisers wanted to reach out to me and ask me to join them on the tour, so he probably texted to give me a heads up.”

“You should definitely do it, Jungwon!” you smile, and Jungwon purses his lips. “I don’t know.” he says, and he seems hesitant to accept Yuzuru’s offer.

You cross your arms. “Remember, it’s not a competition. Ice shows are meant to be fun. It doesn’t matter if the performance isn’t perfect — as long as you're having fun, and the audience is having fun, then that’s all that matters.”

“Right.” he gulps. “I just haven’t done an ice show in a while.”

“It’ll be a good experience to have, Jungwon. You can get rid of the pressure to prepare everything for next season and just enjoy skating, and you can go make new friends too.” you say, and Jungwon seems to consider it.

“I only have one gala program prepared.”

“Choreograph a new one.”

“Taemin’s busy.”

“You don’t have to ask Taemin. Choreograph one yourself.” you suggest, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Jungwon, you’re an artist. You can come up with something.”

“It’ll be bad.”

“Have some confidence in yourself,” you say, patting his shoulder. “You won’t know if you’re good or bad at it until you try, right?”

Jungwon gulps again. “Right.”

“So are you going to take up Hanyu’s offer?”

Jungwon shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Make that maybe a yes,” you say. “Really, skating in an ice show might help you enjoy skating again. Trust me. The crowd hypes you up, the skaters are all supportive, and it’s just a really nice environment to be in.”

Jungwon ponders the idea for a moment. Maybe he should really do this ice show. He hasn’t performed in a non-competition capacity in a while, excluding the galas after competitions. Now that he thinks about it, it seems nice to skate without the pressure of competition.

But the little voice in his head tells him that he absolutely needs to work on his programs next season. He wants to go out with a bang — he can’t do that if he’s underprepared.

Then your voice rings in his head. Fuck it, he hears you say.

A few shows can’t possibly hinder his performance that much. And it’s not like he won’t get any practice time in, and he’s already learnt the choreography for both programs… so it shouldn’t be a problem… right?

Jungwon wants to love skating again.

Maybe an ice show is the second step out of many in his quest to possibly find his love for skating again.

“Okay.” he says, picking up his phone. He moves his thumb over Yuzuru’s contact, typing an ‘I’d be interested’ before sending it without hesitation. You look pleasantly surprised, a smile on your lips as he places down his phone before looking at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small grin.

“Nothing,” you say, looking down at your skates. “I’m just happy you’re trying to regain your passion for this sport.”

Jungwon hums. “Yes. I hope I will be able to.”

“I hope you can too.” you say. “This ice show might help you change your mind.”

“I just wanted to ask you — why did you offer to help me try and love the ice again?” he asks, and you purse your lips.

This conversation is not an easy one to have, you think.

“I guess it’s because I’ve been through something similar,” you start. “There’s a whole backstory to this, so I might as well tell you. I was 13 when I started being coached by Seo Minju.”

When you brought up Seo Minju, Jungwon knew that what you were about to say was not going to be pleasant at all. A couple of friends Jungwon had were also coached by Seo Minju, and had ended up getting multiple injuries — and some even had to retire early.

“I trained… way too much, to say the least. More than you do now. I was breaking my body and my mind from the inside out, training even though I was — excuse my language — fucking exhausted. There was a point where in the middle of JGP Courchevel, I felt like I’d black out after I did a triple axel.” you say, and pressing your lips together in a thin line as you relive the memories that you’ve always wanted to forget.

“And I was in so much pain. I don’t know how I still trained with that much pain — I guess it was Seo who tried to make me keep going. Then one day… I just fractured my ankle,” you gulp, as Jungwon looks at you with his eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes seem to be watery.

“The doctors said my career could have ended. That was the most terrifying thing to hear as a 14 year old kid. I had to rest, heal, and I couldn’t be on the ice for months. I swapped coaches, almost immediately after I got the diagnosis. And when I was told that I could go back onto the ice again, I was fucking terrified. I was scared that one wrong move would end my entire career for good.”

You sigh. “It took me months to heal. I still loved the ice — but my fear of it seemed stronger than my love for it. I had to relearn new techniques, get back my triples… that’s why I disappeared for a whole season. And when I managed to become comfortable with the ice again, I kind of just started thinking in a different perspective. I guess I kind of just want you to maybe think of the sport differently than the way you see it now. Because at the end of the day, when we decided to start, it was because we loved it, right?”

Jungwon finds that a tear trickles down his cheek after you finish speaking. “Don’t cry,” you say, a frown on your face. “I’m okay now.”

“I’m so sorry.” he says, and you smile. “It’s okay. I just kind of always have to remember to take more care of this ankle right here,” you say, pointing to your right ankle. “My problem child.” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Jungwon’s only gotten to know you better in the past few weeks, but he thinks that you’re the most incredible and most admirable person he’s ever met. And the fact that you would go out of your way to try and help him enjoy skating again — it makes warmth bloom across Jungwon’s chest and fills him with nothing but happiness.

He thinks he’ll be eternally grateful for you.

“Come here,” he says, arms held out to pull you in a hug. You skate closer to him, and he wraps his arms around you, and you do the same, wrapping your arms around him.. Jungwon’s hugs are comforting, and you feel nothing but warmth despite you both standing in the middle of an ice skating rink.

He smells like fresh linen, you realise.

You also realise that you don’t really want to let go.

FIVE. spiralling

You receive a message from the Fantasy On Ice organisers a few days later as well, asking if you’d like to join them on tour.

Of course you say yes.

Jungwon seems more cheerful lately. His mood dampens a little bit when he’s on the ice, but it seems barely noticeable to Jiwon and Jongseob — maybe you're just extra attentive when it comes to him.

Jungwon will admit that he is feeling a little bit better. Skating to a program that he knows he doesn’t have to compete with is freeing, fun even. But the little devil on his shoulder keeps pestering him, telling him that he has to focus on next season’s programs.

Jungwon tells the devil to fuck off.

He heads back to his apartment, the weight on his shoulders slightly less heavy than it was a couple weeks ago. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might get to love skating again.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised by his cousin, Wonyoung, who stands in front of the door with balloons in her hands. “Congrats on your Worlds win!”

She pulls Jungwon in for a hug. “You’re two weeks late, Wonyo.” he jokes, and Wonyoung scoffs. “I texted you, because I was in Paris and I couldn’t come watch you.”

“I know, I know.” Jungwon says, putting his skate bag away before he flops on the couch, Wonyoung sitting next to him. “How’s skating?” she asks.

“Terrible,” Jungwon responds. “Well, not entirely. But 90% terrible.”

Wonyoung looks surprised. “What? You just won a major competition though.”

“Yeah. I guess. But it’s not exactly fun anymore,” Jungwon sighs, and Wonyoung frowns. “I feel way too much pressure to be perfect. Every day of my life, it’s just training, training, training — I feel like I know nothing outside of figure skating.”

Jungwon’s phone rings, and he furrows his eyebrows before pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the caller ID. It’s Jangmi, his older sister.

“Hello?” Jungwon says, putting his sister on speaker mode.

“Why did we have to find out from Irene that you’re retiring?” Jangmi’s tone does not seem happy, and Wonyoung, who’s sitting beside him, seems shocked.

Jungwon sits up properly, frowning at his sister’s words. “Because I didn’t think that it was any of your business at the time, and probably because I would’ve told you when I was ready?” he replies. “Why do you sound so angry?”

“You’re like… 22. You’re way too young to retire.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Jangmi.” Jungwon says, sighing.

“Why are you even retiring anyways? It’s not like you’re injured or anything.” she says, and Jungwon frowns. “I just don’t love the sport anymore, Jangmi. I should be able to retire when I want to, and I think that I want to.”

“All because you don’t love the sport? You’re throwing away all those years of your training because you don’t love it anymore? You’re just finding an excuse to quit, Jungwon — and you know our family doesn’t like quitters.”

Jangmi’s words make Jungwon fume. He’s furious, and Wonyoung can tell from the way his expression immediately changes from frustration to one of pure anger.

“You would never understand, Jangmi. I sacrificed my entire childhood for this sport and I wish I fucking knew why I fell out of love with it but I just don’t know why, okay? I wish I could just suddenly start fucking love skating like I did when I was 4, but that’s not possible! I’ve gotten to the point where I simply just cannot continue because I’m not going to spend my days being miserable doing something that I don’t love.” Jungwon’s hands tremble as he holds his phone, tears welling in his eyes and Wonyoung pats his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him — it does not seem to work at all.

“Do your medals and titles really mean nothing to you? Do they not give you motivation to keep going? You’re literally Yang Jungwon, Olympian, 2025 World Champion, and a 5 time national champion!”

“They seem to mean more to you than they do to me.” Jungwon says.

“Jungwon, you can’t give up.”

“But I can.”

“Jungwon—”

“Jangmi, I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Call me when you can accept my decision.” Jungwon says, before hanging up. He sighs, leaning his head back on the headrest of his couch.

He blinks away the tears in his eyes, and he lets out a loud sigh.

“Are you okay?” Wonyoung asks, even if she knows that her cousin is anything but okay.

“I’ll manage.” Jungwon replies, and Wonyoung gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Jungwon gives her a stiff smile.

None of them say a word for a while, sitting in silence until Jungwon suddenly speaks up. “I just don’t know how this happened.”

“What?” Wonyoung asks.

“How I managed to start disliking the one thing I swore I’d love my whole life. I spent my entire life, I sacrificed my entire life just to get here… and now that I am here, I find that I suddenly hate skating. The passion I used to have seems like it just disappeared into thin air.”

“What Jangmi said was wrong.” Wonyoung says. “It’s your career. Do whatever you want.”

“But now that I think about it, do I really want to retire?” Jungwon lets out a sad laugh. “I was telling my friend, (Name), that I wanted to love skating again. Maybe that’s just all I want.”

Jangmi’s phone call somehow really struck a chord within Jungwon. He knew that his sister only cared about his titles — it’s been like that since they were kids. Saying I’m figure skater Yang Jungwon’s sister somehow gave her an automatic “cool” pass. Then it became national champion Yang Jungwon. Then, Olympian Yang Jungwon.

Figure skating is all Jungwon’s ever known. Saying that he wants to retire seems easy enough when he knows he hates what he does. But when his last competition rolls around, Jungwon knows that leaving the ice might be the most difficult thing he’s had to do, ever.

Jungwon might hate the sport he’s sacrificed his life for, but what he hates more is that he allowed himself to start hating it.

SIX. rental skates

After a few weeks of practising your gala performance and a little bit of your programs for next season, you and Jungwon are headed to Japan for Fantasy On Ice.

Jungwon hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately. You’ve tried to cheer him up, and it works sometimes, but he still looks exhausted and tired of it whenever he steps on the ice.

You hope the ice show will make him feel better. Sometimes performing to an upbeat and supportive crowd can help cheer people up (at least that’s what it’s like for you.)

You’ve given him supportive comments while you’re watching him rehearse his program for the show, and you manage to get him to crack small smiles while he’s skating — you know he’ll have to take this one step at a time.

You two are seated beside each other on the plane, and Jungwon settles into his seat comfortably, headphones propped on his head over a baseball cap.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask him, and he shrugs. “I haven’t participated in an ice show for a while. I really don’t know what to expect…. so I’m a bit worried.” he replies.

“Don’t worry. Ice shows are meant to just be for fun,” you say. “Skating is something you should enjoy with the audience.”

Your take is interesting. All his life, Jungwon has just been aiming for the medals — he never thought about how he was feeling while he skated. It was as if his mind was blank, only knowing that he had to do this certain element at this certain time.

Because getting medals was what would bring him joy, right?

That was what Jungwon used to think.

“Mhm.” he replies.

He doesn’t know why his sister’s words from weeks ago are still stuck in his mind. He goes quiet, lips downturned into a small frown that you notice.

“How’d you start liking the sport?” you ask Jungwon, noticing his mood to seemingly be less than pleasant. Maybe your question will help him take his mind off whatever’s been bugging him.

“My sister’s birthday party. We all went to the ice rink together. I remember just running onto the ice, and I fell a couple times. There was this one learn to skate class being held during it, and I just saw other kids my age having so much fun. Then, I saw this one girl do a Biellmann, and she did some double jumps too. And I thought — how cool would it be if I could do that?” he says, and he smiles a little when he thinks about those good memories.

“What about you?” he asks, taking a sip from his water bottle as the pilot notifies everyone that they’re about to take off.

“My parents just signed me up for skating lessons. But then I ended up really loving it after my first class.” you reply, and Jungwon nods.

“Now that I think about it, classes were really fun for me when I was a kid.” Jungwon says, and you crack a small smile. “We should do a learn to skate class for jokes,” you say, and Jungwon chuckles. “The coach would definitely ask us what we’re doing there. They’d be so confused.” he replies.

“Let’s wear rental skates.”

“Oh, god no.” Jungwon grimaces at the thought. “I swear the blades at the rink haven’t been sharpened for years.”

“You should try a triple in rental skates,” you joke, and Jungwon makes a face, wincing. “I can already feel the pain from that… I’d most definitely fall and injure myself.”

“No, you’d be good, Mr 2025 World Champion.”

“You try it, Ms 2025 Grand Prix Final winner.”

Jungwon thinks that he feels the most comfortable when he’s around you. It takes him a bit to warm up to people, but you two had formed a close relationship practically the minute you guys became training mates. Talking to you is easy, and fun – he doesn’t think he’s had a good laugh on the rink in years, and Jungwon realises that skating is more fun when you’re around.

Goofing around on the rink, taking practices seriously but also not at the same time is something that seems new to Jungwon, at least in the last few years. So seeing you find joy in practice, which is something he hasn’t been able to do for years, makes him think that maybe he could do that too.

You encourage him, as well, pulling him into your antics that make Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae laugh. Slowly but surely, all your training mates seem to realise that Jungwon’s loosening up – he allows himself to have fun on the rink, and he allows himself to take breaks.

During a conversation between Jongseob, Jiwon and Eunchae, Jiwon had mentioned that she thought that Jungwon would probably fall in love with you.

“She seems to make him happy,” was what she said. She’s not wrong, too – everyone’s noticed the way Jungwon seems to seem livelier and happier lately. Jongseob remembers the way Jungwon seemed to be constantly stressed, eyebrows almost always knitted together in worry, and never-ending sighs escaping past his lips.

Jungwon’s love for skating hasn’t fully returned yet, but he thinks that he’s starting to like it a little again. It’s not as draining as it was before, and perhaps it’s because you’ve taught him that above all, skating should be fun. Jungwon allows himself to have fun on the ice for the first time in a couple of years, and when he glides across the ice with not a single ounce of worrying about him needing to prove that he’s the best, all he feels is relief.

And he would be eternally grateful for you. For teaching him how to have fun on the ice again. To let go of all the pressure that’s been on his shoulders for years, and just to enjoy the sport.

Gold medals and countless titles might have brought him fulfilment years ago. But now, he thinks that simply just skating would bring the same amount of fulfilment, if not maybe even more.

SEVEN. side by side (quad toe)

Ice show practices are fun.

Everyone’s got a smile on their faces. The first thing Jungwon notices is how warm and welcoming everyone is. The minute he walks into the rink alongside you, he’s welcomed with a hug from Harua, a figure skater from Japan that he remembers having a few nice conversations with during competitions.

“It’s nice to see you again!” Harua beams. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jungwon replies, even though he saw him at Worlds just a few months ago. “I know right?” Harua says. “I’m glad you’re joining us this year, though! I remember the organisers wanted to see if you wanted to join us last year, but Irene told them you were busy.”

Jungwon brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, I was busy during the off-season last year. Preparing for competitions, you know… I thought I’d have a break from that and just join you guys this year.”

“Mhm,” Harua nods, and he hears his name being called out by someone. “I think I’ve got to run along, but it was nice seeing you! It’ll be lots of fun. Nice seeing you too as well, (Name)! Let’s talk more later.”

Harua runs off, as you give Jungwon an amused smile. “You guys seem close.”

“We’re not super close… we’ve just talked to each other a couple times at competitions. He’s a really nice guy, though.” Jungwon says, taking his skates out of his skate bag. He looks at the rink, and there are a few skaters he recognises just warming up.

“He does seem really nice.” you hum, sitting down next to him as you take your skates out from your bag as well.

“You ready?” he asks, standing up. You quickly finish lacing up your right boot before nodding. “Let’s go,” you say, linking arms with him as you lead him towards the rink.

You do it so casually that Jungwon needs a few seconds to process the action. He doesn’t know why his face starts feeling warm, and he doesn’t want you to let go of his arm.

The funniest thing is, the minute he thinks that, you let go, placing your hands into the pocket of your jacket.

“Hey, let’s do a side by side jump.” you suggest, and Jungwon nods. “Triple?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Nah, let’s do a quad. Quad toe?”

“Sure.” he says, and he starts skating, doing backward crossovers on the ice. “Should I count? How do pairs do this?” you say, as you skate beside him.

“Just count,” he says.

“Okay, one, two, three.”

And you both take off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing, completely synchronised. You look at Jungwon with a huge smile on your face, giving him a high five. “Nice.” you say.

“That was good.” Jungwon says, patting you on the shoulder. “New pairs team in the making!” you two hear Jongseob joke, and Jungwon lets out a chuckle.

You tell Jungwon that you’re going to practise your gala program for a bit, and he nods as he watches you skate off. You glide gracefully across the ice, Jungwon admiring how beautiful your jumps and spins are.

He doesn’t realise that his expression is one of awe until Harua points it out. “You look very enamoured, Jungwon.” he smirks, and Jungwon immediately snaps out of it.

“Huh… what?” he asks, almost as if he’s in a daze. He blinks a couple times, and Harua only chuckles. “Do you like (Name)?

“Of course I like (Name). She’s my friend.” he says, completely clueless to what Harua’s hinting at. “No, no, I mean like… in a romantic way.”

A romantic way?

It might sound a little crazy, but Jungwon does not think he’s ever had a crush on someone in his 22 years of walking on this planet. Skating was his number one priority — love wasn’t anywhere on his list of priorities. In fact, Jungwon doesn’t even think he’s thought about love at all.

So Jungwon isn’t quite sure how to tell if his feelings for you are romantic or not, because he simply just doesn’t know what having a crush feels like. He knows that you linking arms with him was nice. He knows that he didn’t want you to let go of his arm.

Was that the first sign of a crush?

Jungwon truly didn’t know.

He scratches the nape of his neck awkwardly. “I don't… think so.” he replies, but it comes out sounding more like a question, and Harua only smiles at him, amused.

“Cool. Cool… tell me that next year when you two are dating.” the boy says, and Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “We’re not going to… what?”

“You seem much happier when you’re around her, you know.” Harua says, earnestly. “At Worlds, you didn’t seem very happy. You seemed tense, as if you were always burdened by something.”

“But now, you seem like you’re feeling better. You’re smiling again.” Harua says, and Jungwon takes a few seconds to process his words.

“She… she’s trying to get me to like skating again.” Jungwon says, and Harua lets out a knowing ‘ah’. “I guess I have started liking skating more again… because she’s helped me learn to have fun.”

“That’s good. See, your relationship is like a whole Netflix movie plot.” Harua quips.

“I really don’t see the vision you’re trying to paint in my head, Harua.” Jungwon says, and Harua shrugs. “Just think about your feelings when you’re around her. I guess if you feel like… warm, and happy when she’s around, you like her? Or if you think about her a lot. Or if you want to kiss her, I don’t know. You should Google it. Ask Google how to tell if you like someone, or something. You know it has all the answers.”

Jungwon’s drawn to two parts of what Harua just said. One, the part being that Harua told him to ask Google how to tell if you liked someone, and two, the part where he told Jungwon to think about whether he wanted to kiss you.

Jungwon’s not going to Google to ask for relationship advice.

And Jungwon also doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or not. He doesn’t even know if he likes you romantically, either. All he knows is that you make him happy. Much happier than he used to be.

But when you skate up to him with a bright smile on your face, Jungwon feels his heart beat faster than it was just a few seconds ago. And he knows it’s not because he’s tired from skating, because after all, he has been standing still while talking to Harua.

Maybe he does like you.

Just a little bit.

EIGHT. let me entertain you

Tonight is the first show of Fantasy on Ice for this year, and you’re bursting with excitement.

You get dressed into the costume for the opening, and you raise an eyebrow when you see the dress. It’s not… terrible, but it’s not something you’d wear at all.

You leave the dressing room, looking into the mirror as you tilt your head. You walk towards the hair and makeup area, where Jungwon’s getting his hair done.

“Do I look okay?”

Jungwon thinks his heart skips a beat.

The costume is... alright, but that’s the case with Fantasy On Ice costumes every year. But, you make it look really, really good. Unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips, and you take it as a good sign.

“You look great.” he says, and you smile.

“Thank you, Won!”

You just called him a nickname. His smile seemingly gets wider as you scurry off, being called for your own hair and makeup to be done.

“Do you see what I mean, Jungwon?” Harua says, sitting in the chair beside him. “I really don’t.” Jungwon replies.

“You two are definitely going to fall in love. I’ve got great matchmaking skills.” Harua smirks.

“Who’s falling in love?” Yuzuru asks, overhearing Harua’s words, and Jungwon buries his face in his hands. “Jungwon! And… (Name).” Harua says your voice very quietly, in fear that you might hear him.

“Oh?” Yuzuru says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys would be cute together. Did you guys get closer recently?”

“Mhm,” Jungwon nods. “I don’t think I'm… in love though.”

“You’re married to the ice like Yuzu, huh?” Harua quips. “I said I wanted someone who would benefit my skating or be very supportive of it.” Yuzuru replies.

“Elsa.”

“Enough.”

“No, but I just haven’t thought about love, you know?” Jungwon says. “Skating takes up my whole life… I don’t exactly have the time to think about it.”

“Valid.” Yuzuru hums. “But seriously, you two would actually be really cute together. Harua says he hasn’t seen you smile genuinely in years.”

Jungwon thinks Harua might be exaggerating a little. He would smile at Harua (genuine smiles!) after he finished skating. It was just during the skate, during the Kiss and Cry, and during the podium where Jungwon would do the smile that never quite ended up reaching his eyes.

“You’re making me sound emo!”

“You are though?” Harua replies, laughing. “Wait, no… not anymore.” he nods his head in the direction of where you are, and Jungwon rolls his eyes.

“I’m not falling in love.” he says, before getting up from his chair. He hears Harua say Whatever you say! teasingly, and Jungwon just shakes his head as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says, greeting you as the makeup artist swipes a pretty pink colour on your lips. You look up at him, waving (because you can’t exactly smile right now.)

“Hi! You’re lucky you’ve got a puffer jacket on. Man, it’s freezing here.” you say when the makeup artist is done, shivering slightly. For someone who’s on the ice almost all the time, your tolerance to the cold isn’t exactly high — but in your defence, they did have the aircon on in the room.

“You can just take mine,” Jungwon says, unzipping it. He drapes it over your shoulders, and the action suddenly makes your cheeks start feeling hot.

You’ve heard about this feeling before, but you don’t think you’ve ever really experienced it. If those movies and books were right, you think you might just have the tiniest crush on Yang Jungwon.

You think that becoming friends with Jungwon might’ve been one of the best decisions of your life. He’s kind — always caring about you even when he’s feeling down in the dumps. He’s funny too, but he doesn’t seem to show it to anyone other than you. And, he is undeniably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.

Him lending you his jacket just makes your heart flutter.

“Oh, thank you.” you say, and for the first time, you find yourself at a loss for words when you’re talking to Jungwon.

“It’ll keep you warm until before the show starts.” he says, and you nod. “You ready?” you ask, and Jungwon shrugs.

“I don’t know. I’m a bit scared. I hope I do well.”

You take his hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “I know you’ll do well. And just remember that this is for fun. It’s not a competition. You’re here to have fun, you’re here to let the audience have fun.”

“Okay.” he says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll make sure to have fun.”

“Loosen up, Wonie.” you beam at him. “The crowd will love you, I’m sure of it.”

You see everyone starting to line up in order of their appearance for the opening, and thankfully, you’re behind Jungwon, so you two can continue your conversation.

“I just wanted to ask.” you start, and Jungwon hums, motioning for you to continue. “Do you think you’re starting to love skating again?”

Jungwon is silent for a moment.

“A little bit. Because now I know that skating is meant to be fun, above all.” he says, and you smile.

“Cool.”

“Thank you.” Jungwon grins at you.

“For what?” you ask.

“For helping me with liking skating again. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to find my love for it again. I guess I just thought that if I trained harder and got better results, I’d be happier with my skates… but I was wrong,” he replies. “I needed to learn how to have fun again. I needed to remember why I started loving the sport in the first place.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Won.”

“No, but I do. I know I wouldn’t have done this ice show if you didn’t convince me to. And from what I can tell and the cheers I can hear, I think it’ll be a lot of fun.” he smiles. “So thank you. For pushing me to loosen up. For pushing me to learn to have fun.”

“You’re welcome, then.” you smile. The organiser tells Jungwon that he’ll be up next. “You’ll kill it out there.” you say.

“So will you.”

Jungwon thinks that deciding to join this ice show might be one of the best decisions he’s made.

NINE. ice days

Jungwon has never felt so happy to perform.

The crowd is loud, lively and cheers him on, applause sounding throughout the arena after he lands a jump. The atmosphere makes Jungwon excited to skate on the next show.

It’s been a while since Jungwon felt excitement towards the ice.

Cheers resound throughout the arena when he finishes his program, and he finds that he doesn’t have to plaster a smile on his face — he already is smiling. A huge, genuine smile.

He doesn’t see you until the group number at the end, and when he spots you, he skates a little faster in order to catch up with you. “Hey, Won! You did great.” you say when you notice him skating beside you on your left.

“Thank you,” he says, a smile on his lips. “You did great too.”

“Was it fun?” you ask, playing with the coloured scarf tied around your neck. You notice that you and Jungwon have the same exact one – they’re both orange and pink (a colour combination that you’re not quite sure you like too much.)

“Yeah. It was really fun.”

“What’d I tell you?” you say, grinning brightly at him. “There are a lot more shows after this, so you’ll get to experience all this over and over again.”

“I’m glad you made me do this,” he says, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun on the ice in a long, long time.”

“That’s good. Do you think my quest to help you love the ice again is working?” you ask.

“I think it is.”

You take his hand and squeeze it. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Jungwon doesn’t notice the crowd seems to get louder after seeing your action. He thinks that someone must’ve done a cool trick, like Jongseob doing a backflip.

“That’s enough, lovebirds!” Harua says, skating up to you two. “We’re about to leave the rink.”

All the skaters skate to the centre of the rink, and Jungwon does too, with you following him. You all link hands, bowing at the audience before each of you leave the rink, one by one.

As Jungwon’s hand is in yours, you can’t stop thinking about Harua calling you two lovebirds. Obviously, you and Jungwon weren’t together, but now you can’t stop thinking that perhaps there could be a possibility, provided that you managed to figure out all the mixed feelings you had and if he reciprocated.

But strangely, something about Jungwon just makes you feel at home.

There is something so comforting about his presence. You feel at ease with Jungwon — it’s easy to talk to him, it’s easy to crack jokes when he’s around (you realised that you do it more often when he’s around just so you can see him laugh.)

It’s also easy to just sit in silence with Jungwon. Usually you’d feel compelled to fill the awkward silence, but with Jungwon, sometimes words don’t need to be shared. You feel like you’re able to understand him, and he’s able to understand you, despite only growing close during the off-season.

You’d like to think that he’s the closest friend in your circle of skater friends.

When you’re finished getting changed out of the costume and remove your makeup, you try to find Jungwon in the packed room, but to no avail.

“Who are you looking for?” Kaori asks, and you turn around to face her. “Oh! Jungwon.” you say, and Kaori points in the direction she saw him go in. “He’s just over there, with Harua.”

“Thanks!” you say, grinning at Kaori before heading in the direction she pointed at. Sure enough, Jungwon’s sitting there, typing away at his phone.

“Won!” you say, and he looks up, a smile immediately on his lips. “(Name)! I was waiting for you.” he says.

Your heart flutters. Harua smirks whilst trying to stifle a giggle. Jungwon shoots a pointed look at the boy.

“Oh?” you ask. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel together.” he says, standing up from his chair.

“Of course!” you reply, nodding. “Cool,” he says, placing his puffer jacket into his bag. “Harua says there’s a good ramen place around here.”

“Yeah. It’s really good. I would go with you guys but then I’d be third-wheeling.” Harua says, still seated in his chair. Your cheeks flush pink at his words, whilst Jungwon furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you be third-wheeling?”

“Oh. Just because,” Harua says, a smirk on his lips. “You guys should run along now. They close pretty soon,” he checks the time on his phone.

“Well! We should hurry then… see you tomorrow, Harua.” you say, and Jungwon waves at the skater. “Bye!”

Have fun on your date, Harua mouths at Jungwon. Jungwon rolls his eyes in response.

“The crowd were cheering really loud for you tonight,” you tell Jungwon. “Oh, really?” he asks — he thought they were just as loud with everybody else.

“There were less people in the audience during the last ice show I did, but yeah. They were really loud — they seemed to really enjoy your performance.”

A small, proud smile makes its way to Jungwon’s lips. “I’m glad they enjoyed it. They seemed to like your performance too. I know I did.”

Goddamn Yang Jungwon. His words were making your heart beat as fast as it was when you were competing on the ice.

Your cheeks feel hot, and you fan your face with your hand to try and stop them from getting warmer. Jungwon seems to notice your actions. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” he asks.

“What?”

“The weather.” he says, pulling out his phone. “It’s 32 degrees right now.”

Thank god Jungwon is dense when it comes to any aspect of romance. You understand why though, because when he was younger, he was fully devoted to the ice. You don’t think he even gave any attention to the people who were chasing after him and yearning for his affection — because it was like his heart belonged to the ice.

“Oh. Yeah, it is.” you say. You think you dodged a bullet there. You and Jungwon arrive at the ramen shop soon after, and Harua is right — the food is absolutely delicious.

Speaking of Harua, the ramen reminds you of him mentioning that if he came with you and Jungwon, he’d be third-wheeling.

Somehow you feel… giddy at the thought of that. Not Harua third-wheeling, but the idea of you and Jungwon on a date.

Wait, was this dinner a date?

No. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. Jungwon only sees you as a friend.

But the idea of you two possibly being something more seems to now be engraved in the back of your mind, and while eating ramen in 32 degree weather with Yang Jungwon in the streets of Makuhari, you realise:

You like Jungwon.

TEN. 4Lz (ur, fall)

Jungwon finds that Fantasy on Ice ends faster than he thinks. It was nearly two months of touring — time really does fly when you’re having fun.

He thinks he’s starting to enjoy skating again. He’s found a new appreciation for his craft — and with the knowledge that his skating is able to make so many people happy, he thinks that he should be able to make himself happy with his own skating.

He returns to the Taereung skating rink with a bright smile, and Irene notices the change in his demeanour the second he walks in the door.

“Welcome back, Jungwon.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Hi, Irene. Thanks.” he replies, placing his skate bag on the floor before taking his skates out. He takes off his usual training shoes, putting on the skating boots that've been with him every day for the last 3 years.

“How was FAOI?” Irene asks. “Good. It was fun.” Jungwon says, finishing lacing up his skates.

“That’s good. Are you ready to practise for next season properly now?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. “Yeah.” he says, skating onto the rink.

“You remember the choreographies, right?” she asks, and Jungwon nods. He thinks he remembers them, but now that she asks, he’s not too sure if he remembers them completely.

“We’ll do the short program first.” Irene says, pressing play on her phone as the music plays through the speakers.

Jungwon glides on the ice elegantly, his movements as fluid and soft as water. He spins and turns on the ice, doing backward crossovers as he prepares for the first jump — a quad lutz.

He’s usually confident in this jump. He takes off, spinning in the air — but as he’s about to make his landing, he falls. Irene makes a noise just as Jungwon gets up, and he presses his lips together in a thin line. It’s fine. Jungwon thinks.

The next jump is a quad toeloop-triple toeloop combination, and Jungwon thinks he’ll do fine, and he lands the quad well, but he feels the landing on the triple is a little shaky.

Doubt fills his mind. Did he get worse somehow while doing the ice shows? Sure, he didn’t do as many quads when he was in Japan, but he thought he’d be okay. Or maybe he’s just having a bad day. He’s done three jumps. Two of them he wouldn’t consider done well.

Flying camel spin. Jungwon’s spins are always done well, and Irene nods in approval — but every thought in Jungwon’s mind is telling him that he shouldn’t have done that ice show. He slacked off, and now he’s not doing as great as he was before.

Final jump for his short program, a triple axel. He lands it cleanly, but he feels little satisfaction for it. Dread is what Jungwon feels. He shouldn’t have gone. He should’ve listened to the devil on his shoulder telling him to stay — he needs to train. He needs to practise.

Spin combination. Jungwon does them well as usual. Then the step sequence, which as he’s skating, he hears Irene make a small hum in satisfaction. But Jungwon does not feel any satisfaction from his performance at all.

The last element of his program, a sit spin, is completed perfectly.

Jungwon is surprised he remembers the entire choreography when he’s in his finishing pose. He sighs, skating around the rink with a frown on his face.

“You didn’t have enough height on your quad lutz.” Irene says, and Jungwon nods. “I know.”

“Train that for a bit.”

Jungwon listens.

And he falls more than he usually does.

The more he falls, the more his brain tells him that he should have stayed. He notices you entering the rink, and that lifts his mood slightly — but as he attempts another quad lutz, and falls, he’s just completely tired.

He motions to Irene that he’s going to have a break. He leaves the rink, putting his skate guards on as he heads towards an empty bench, burying his face in his hands.

You immediately notice the dejected look on Jungwon’s face, and you hurry over to him to ask him if he’s okay.

“What’s wrong, Won?” you ask, sitting down next to him. “Nothing. I’m frustrated.” he replies with a sigh.

“You can talk to me.”

“I spent too much time having fun. And now I think I forgot the choreo to my free skate, and I can’t land my quad lutz — usually, I’d be way ahead in terms of preparation. And I’m just scared that I won’t do well next season.” he says, his voice shaky, and you frown.

“I’m not blaming you for saying I should’ve gone to the ice shows, by the way. I enjoyed the ice show. But now I feel underprepared.”

“It’s okay. But Jungwon, Grand Prix is like in… September. It’s July.” you say, in an attempt to reassure him.

“I know. I know. I’m just… worried.”

“You have plenty, plenty of time. And hey, maybe it’s just a bad skate day. I get those sometimes.” you say in a soft voice, placing your hand on his shoulder, and Jungwon thinks your words make him feel a little better. “Doing not as well on one day doesn’t mean you’re terrible now, Jungwon. You have lots of time, and you’ll only get better. Don’t stress, okay?”

“Okay.” he says, sighing.

“You’ll do great. I know it.”

Your words are able to comfort him. Jungwon is thankful for that. But he feels this blooming feeling in his chest that he doesn’t really think he’s ever felt before. The words Harua said a month ago pops back into his mind. You two are definitely going to fall in love.

Love may be a bit of a stretch for now. But Jungwon thinks he certainly does like you. He feels warm and happy around you. He thinks about you a lot. And the possibility of being something more than friends has started to linger in the back of his mind.

“Thank you. You will too.” Jungwon says. You give his hand a tight squeeze as encouragement, telling him ‘fighting!’ — which makes him crack a small smile.

Shit, maybe Harua is right. Jungwon thinks. He heads back onto the rink, deciding that he should try the quad lutz again. Maybe it’s just a bad day.

And as he lands one that he thinks is the cleanest one he’s ever done, he decides that perhaps taking Harua’s advice to ask Google how to tell if he likes someone isn’t the worst idea.

ELEVEN. octuple flip

Grand Prix assignments roll out two weeks after you and Jungwon’s return to the Taereung rink.

You’re assigned to Grand Prix de France and NHK Trophy, and Jungwon’s assigned to Skate Canada and like you, the NHK Trophy.

You’re glad you’ll at least be able to see him at a Grand Prix competition. You tell him that when he’s at Skate Canada, you’ll be watching him skate from the comfort of your home. He tells you that he’ll be doing the same when you’re at Grand Prix de France.

You and Jungwon get even closer during training for the Grand Prix competitions. Like you had said, that day when he fell on the quad lutz multiple times was just a bad day. You’ve seen him do both his short program and free program cleanly multiple times now.

Jungwon thinks he must’ve been having fun during training, because Skate Canada rolls around faster than he thinks. But of course with you around at training, it’ll always be fun.

He did not end up asking Google for relationship advice. He instead asked Wonyoung, who had asked him to text her about you and just simply describe you and how you made him feel. He had originally texted ‘nice to me.’, but then Wonyoung told him that he had to elaborate.

Needless to say, after his long paragraph about you that he sent to Wonyoung (she skimmed over it, the first two lines of the text were all she needed to know), she had established that Jungwon liked you.

And with that thought in his mind, Jungwon does realise he has started to act differently around you more recently. He’s more attentive to you, he’s always by your side when you’re around, and he finds himself sometimes wanting to just hold your hand.

As you send him off to the airport, a bright smile on your lips and a cat plushie in your hand that you give to him, a pink blush tints his cheeks, even if he doesn’t know it. And if he did, he’d blame it on how hot the coffee in his hand is.

Unbeknownst to Jungwon, your cheeks are heating up too when you see the look on his face after you give him the stuffed animal.

There’s just something about Jungwon that makes your heart do flips. Triple flips, quadruple flips — even quintuple flips.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You think it just did 8 rotations. Not humanly possible.

But, your heart just does an octuple flip.

You text him every day too, when he’s in Canada. He responds almost immediately (if he’s awake, because of the damned time zones), and he sometimes even sends you pictures of himself on the ice too. There’s one where he’s holding up the cat plushie you gave him, a smile on his lips. You find that there are butterflies in your stomach after you see the message.

Time zones are horrible, but you set an alarm so you can remember to open up your laptop and watch him skate.

You send him a goodluck message, that he doesn’t read immediately because he must have his phone in his bag, since he’s about to skate soon.

And when the commentator announces Jungwon’s name, you see him skate out onto the rink. You murmur You got this! but obviously, you know he can’t hear you.

“Now, obviously Yang Jungwon is one of the most anticipated skaters at this Grand Prix competition. He delivered a sublime skate at Worlds last season, securing him the title as world champion.” you hear the commentator say, as Jungwon skates around the rink before getting into his starting position. “Yang Jungwon with the music: A Walk In The Skies.”

The music starts, and Jungwon moves across the ice in a way you’re most familiar with now. You’ve seen him do this program hundreds, maybe thousands of times — but at a competition, Jungwon’s got his A-game on. His movements are delicate, elegant and beautiful.

“First comes the quad lutz.” the commentator says, and you watch your screen intently as Jungwon takes off, spinning four revolutions in the air before landing cleanly. “Yes!” you say, pumping your fist.

“Absolutely stunning.”

You agree with the commentator wholeheartedly.

“The quad toe-triple toe.” Jungwon lands the quad toe the second the commentator says that, and takes off into the triple toe — another clean jump.

You smile. He’s doing great, you think, as he does a flying camel spin. He looks happy as he skates as well. He seems to be enjoying the sport more and more each day.

Jungwon skates his entire program cleanly, with all green boxes on the left hand corner of your screen. His technical score is the highest among all the skaters, and he was the last to skate — you think that he’ll definitely place first in the short program.

“Yang Jungwon at his best, everyone.” the commentator says. “Yang did absolutely wonderful tonight, and I’m sure it will reflect on the scores.”

He bows, a genuine smile on his lips — one that he hasn’t shown in a long time at competitions as the cat plushies fall from the bleachers and onto the ice. He picks up as many as he can before leaving the rink while the flower kids pick up the rest, as the camera pans to him giving Irene a fist bump.

You think he’ll break 100. There’s no way he won’t.

As he sits in the Kiss and Cry nervously waiting for his scores, you sit at home on your couch, just as nervous as he is. The camera faces towards him, and Jungwon smiles at it, holding up one of the cat plushies he had received and mouthing a thank you.

“The scores, please.”

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon of South Korea is 111.45, his season’s best and currently puts him in first place.”

The crowd erupts into cheers, and you push your laptop off your lap and onto the couch, jumping up in excitement.

You watch as Jungwon pumps his fist up into the air before hugging Irene with pure joy on his face.

Jungwon doesn’t think he’s been this happy to place first in a long, long time. He had fun skating today. He also skated well today. And he’s currently in first.

Having fun and winning can coexist. Jungwon finds that out today as he bows once more before leaving the Kiss and Cry.

Jungwon thinks that he’s just a few steps away from loving skating again.

TWELVE. you, me (?) and the ice

Jungwon wins the men’s category of Skate Canada.

You welcome him back to Korea with a huge hug at the airport, slightly startling him but he hugs you back nevertheless. “You did so, so good!” you say, and Jungwon smiles.

“Thank you.” he says. “I haven’t felt this happy to win gold in so long.”

“You know I cried watching your free skate?” you say, and Jungwon looks at you, eyes widened. “Really?” he asks, as you lead him to your car.

“I was really proud. And happy. Because you looked like you liked skating again.” you say. “I did like skating there. I haven’t enjoyed skating competitively for so long… and I feel like I just did better when I enjoyed it.” he hums.

“Jungwon, you broke a world record, and you had fun while doing it.” you say.

“I did.” he replies. “If you had told that to me at the beginning of the year, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

You load his luggage into the trunk of your car, motioning for him to get into the front seat. He does, and when you slide into the driver’s seat, he surprises you with a cute stuffed toy of an adorable polar bear — which are the plushies that your fans throw onto the ice after you skate.

“I saw this in a store window when I was heading back to the hotel, and it reminded me of you,” he says, handing it to you. “It’s so cute, Jungwon! Thank you.” you say, taking the toy in your hands. “Look, I even got it skates.” he says, pointing at the skates attached to the polar bear toy’s feet, making you chuckle.

“That’s so cool.” you say, setting it aside so you can drive. “I’m putting this on my nightstand.”

You do actually want to put it on your nightstand, but you decide to bring it with you to France. You pack it in your backpack the night before you leave. “You’re my good luck charm now,” you tell the stuffed toy.

And this time it’s Jungwon’s turn to send you off.

Like what you did when Jungwon was in Canada, he texts you as much as he can, updating you on the little things that go on at the rink, such as telling you about how Jiwon bought a hot dog, or Jongseob doing backflips on the ice nonstop.

He keeps his promise of watching you skate. He watches your short program on his bed, his dog Maeumi curling up beside him as he watches in anticipation. You skated clean in the short program, and as if Jungwon was actually in the arena right now, he erupts into applause.

“Look, Maeumi. (Name) did well.” he says, showing his dog the screen that showed the rankings. Maeumi only blinks at the screen.

When the time to watch your free skate rolls around, Jungwon drops everything to watch it. He ends his call with Wonyoung, when they’re talking about the family gathering next month that Jungwon doesn’t think that he’ll be able to make it to. “Sorry, Wonyo — something important just came up, I’ll call you back later.” he tells her, ending the call swiftly.

He sees you in the last group of skaters warming up — you’re going to skate last, because you placed first during the short program. He watches as you land a triple loop cleanly, and unconsciously, a smile makes its way to his lips.

He watches the other skaters skate before you, and they all do pretty well. There’s a couple of falls, and Jungwon winces when one of the skaters hits the ice particularly hard.

And when your name is announced, his eyes are immediately drawn to the screen, diverting his attention from Maeumi, who now also seems to be drawn to the laptop.

“Last to skate is (Name), representing South Korea. Now, (Name) had a wonderful season last year — placing 1st at the Grand Prix finals, and 2nd at the World Championships. Placed first in the short program, she’s surely aiming for the top of the podium here today.” the commentator says.

Jungwon chews on the inside of his cheek nervously as your music starts.

Every time you skate, Jungwon is in awe, and today is certainly no exception. You glide on the ice as smoothly as a flowing river, every movement of yours from your arm all the way to your fingertips controlled delicately.

Quad flip, Jungwon thinks at the same time the commentator says that out loud. You land it beautifully, and Jungwon nods his head, murmuring ‘nice’. Maeumi looks at Jungwon’s laptop screen, just as transfixed on your skating as his owner is.

Being able to watch your skating is a gift in itself, Jungwon thinks. Your performances are absolutely mesmerising, and Jungwon knows he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. You are a master at combining technique with artistry – without a doubt, it is clear to everybody that you were born to skate. As you continue with your program, Jungwon’s eyes follow your figure on the screen.

He has watched you do this program a million times. Every single time, he gets chills – every single time, you do it better than the last time. Everything is executed to perfection, and there is one thing Jungwon notices clearly as you skate. It is your passion for it.

You skate as if it'll be your last skate ever. You give your all, expressing every single emotion you feel and sharing it with the audience. You aren’t showing off your skills – you are telling a story. A tale of you and the ice.

You once mentioned to him that you had always wanted to fly. You might not have wings, but you have your skates. Aim higher. Soar higher. Despite how difficult figure skating is, and the injury that almost took you out of the sport — never once, have you thought to quit. Never once have you wanted to give up on your dream, and never once have you ever imagined a world without you skating.

Jungwon wants to skate with as much passion and love as you have for the sport. He has much to learn from you, and it is only when your music stops that he realises that a single tear drops from his eye.

You have single handedly changed Jungwon’s entire perspective of skating. You managed to help him fall back in love with the sport – and he knows he’s not fully there yet, but he’s close to it, and your encouragement played a huge part in it. He knows he would be miserable on the ice if you hadn’t.

And when your scores are announced, with everyone in the arena and everyone watching online hearing how you had broken a new world record, Jungwon jumps up from his bed with joy, a huge grin plastered on his lips.

Nobody deserves that gold medal more than you do.

THIRTEEN. thin ice

With each skate and each reminder that he should use the ice to release all his pressures and burdens, Jungwon enjoys skating more and more now.

Irene notices how Jungwon finds skating more exciting. Being subjected to only frowns and sighs of disappointment only for the past few years, she thinks it’s certainly a nice change – and deep inside, she hopes that Jungwon will change his mind about retirement.

He has been seriously considering it now. With him now being able to enjoy skating competitions, Jungwon finds himself wanting to compete next season, but still, a little part of him still wonders if he should let his first love go.

He thinks he’ll decide after the Olympics (that is if he makes the team, of course.) Jungwon knows he’ll have to put out a really good skate at Nationals in January. Despite that little devil telling him that if he doesn’t train morning, noon and night, he’ll lose, Jungwon decides to ignore it. He finds that he skates better when he’s having fun anyways.

NHK Trophy rolls around soon enough, and it’s both yours and Jungwon’s last Grand Prix assignment before the Final. You two are finally travelling together for the first time since the ice show, and you don’t forget to buy a cat plushie to hand to him after his free skate (you know he has plenty of them, but one more couldn’t hurt.)

Jungwon does the same, buying a polar bear plushie for you that he stuffs into his suitcase.

The competition goes well for both of you, with both of you winning silver medals and gaining a spot in the Grand Prix Final.

You both fall once in the free skate, with the winners of the competition skating cleanly for both programs. The Jungwon a couple months ago would be terribly upset about it – but now, Jungwon is happy about silver. He podiumed whilst skating happily. Something that he didn’t think he’d be able to do again.

When Jungwon hands you the polar bear plushie after your free skate, he doesn’t realise that a camera goes off the second you take hold of it in your hands. And when you hand him the cat plushie after his free skate, another camera goes off as well – you both don’t find out until somehow Dispatch releases an article about it.

First of all, Jungwon wonders why you two are on Dispatch anyways. You two aren’t idols, and you doubt that the public would really care about either of your romantic lives, but Jungwon finds that he is very wrong after reading some of the comments from netizens. Second of all, he wonders why he didn’t notice the camera flash when both incidents happened. Third of all, he examines his face closely – and he thinks that the smile he’s giving you is one of the brightest ones of his that’s been seen on camera.

Harua texts him a ‘invite me to the wedding’ with a link to the article and too many emojis that it gives Jungwon an eyesore. Jungwon replies with a no and a middle finger emoji. Harua knows well enough that you and Jungwon aren’t together.

Yuzuru texts him ‘Are you two finally together? Congratulations!’ with perfect capitalisation and a link to the article. Jungwon replies with another no, but this time with a smiley face instead of the middle finger. Yuzuru texts him a thumbs up. His follow up message reads I’m sure it’ll happen soon though, and Jungwon just sends back a ‘hahahahaha’.

And you’re subjected to merciless teasing from Riki, who spams the article link in your chat. You honestly think it’s much worse than the comments from some of the netizens you read. But honestly, what the netizens say isn't even that bad. Except for the comments from the ones who want Jungwon to be theirs. Those ones you just laugh at, because honestly, they’re quite hilarious. You’ve never read such creative insults directed at you.

But the articles make Jungwon think.

About the possibility of being in a relationship with you. He’s established that he thinks he likes you (or at least his feelings for you do fit what Wonyoung and Google have said about what liking someone is like), but Jungwon has never thought about… dating.

Quite frankly, Jungwon thinks that he’d be scared to tell you about his feelings – because he knows that once you confess, that relationship would be changed forever. You can’t go back to just friends when the other knows that you want to be more than that. And what happens if the relationship doesn’t work out? Do you just act like the whole thing never happened? Or do you just cut the other person off completely?

The latter option is absolutely not possible considering that you and Jungwon are training mates too.

This is complicated. And thinking about it makes Jungwon’s head hurt.

But then he looks at the cat plushie on his bed that you had given to him after he finished skating his free program. The joy that fills his heart is immense, and he can’t stop the lovestruck grin from spreading across his lips.

Is this what the movies and books described as being struck by Cupid’s arrow? Because if so, Jungwon thinks that Cupid shot an arrow straight through his heart, with your name engraved on the tip of it.

Jungwon can’t stop thinking about you. His day is instantly made the second he sees you walk through the doors of the Taereung ice rink, and he looks at you as if you've got the whole universe in your hands. Every single move you make, every single smile you send his way makes that blooming feeling in Jungwon’s chest get warmer, warmer, and warmer.

Jungwon likes you. He thinks he really, really likes you.

And coming to that conclusion doesn’t make him as afraid as he thought he'd be. He’s calm, and he thinks his conclusion just seems right. As if the final piece of the puzzle is put into place, Jungwon’s feelings for you are finally sorted out.

Jungwon doesn’t need Harua, Wonyoung or Google to tell him that he likes you.

He just knows it.

Confessing is a whole other story, but Jungwon thinks that when the right time comes, he’ll do it. He doesn’t know much about love, with his entire life practically being devoted to the ice – but he knows that when it feels right, it must be the right time.

So, Jungwon comes to two conclusions that night.

One: he really likes you, and he doesn’t need anyone else to confirm it for him.

Two: he can’t believe that a Dispatch article made him realise that he really liked you.

FOURTEEN. public skating session

You ask Jungwon if you’d like to skate at another public rink after the Grand Prix Final is over.

He immediately says yes.

He doesn’t take you up on the offer to wear rental skates though, so both of you lace up your skates on the bench, Jungwon putting your bags into a cubbyhole.

“Let’s go, Wonie!” you say, and he finds his heart fluttering at the nickname. He follows you onto the rink like the first time, and you two skate side by side, at a way slower pace than usual to be mindful of the other skaters at the rink.

“How does it feel to be the 2026 Grand Prix Final champion?” you ask him, and he smiles at you. “Hmm. I don’t know,” Jungwon replies. “I should be asking you that.”

You and Jungwon both winning in your respective categories were amazing for the media. Yang Jungwon and (Name), figure skaters rumoured to be dating win Men’s Grand Prix Final and Women’s Grand Prix Final was the headline. But at least Dispatch can add more to their article, and you and Jungwon get to go home with shiny gold medals.

“Feels pretty good. Two years in a row,” you say, and he pats you on the back. “You deserved it,” Jungwon says. “Have I ever told you how in awe I am whenever I watch you skate?”

“Thank you,” you say, chuckling as your cheeks turn hot at the compliment. “Your skating is amazing as well — that step sequence in World Dreams? Gave me actual chills. I saw a tear drop from a woman’s eye when I was seated in the crowd.”

“Really?” Jungwon asks, and you nod. “She was bawling by the end of it, I think.” you say, and Jungwon softly smiles. “I’m glad my skating made her feel something… hopefully all good things though.”

“Most definitely good things. She threw 5 cat plushies onto the ice. I think she’s a hardcore fan.” you reply. “She might’ve dethroned my spot as your number one fan.”

“Hey,” Jungwon says, pouting. “You texted me when I was at Skate Canada saying that you’d always be my number one fan.”

“Yeah, but she was like a diehard fan,” you say. “Don’t worry though, I’ll throw out 15 cat plushies when you skate during Nationals. I’m taking my spot back.”

“I’ll throw out more than 15 polar bear plushies when you skate at Nationals. I’ll throw out 16.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, a smile never leaving his lips.

“We can just be each other’s number one fan.” you say, and Jungwon nods. “Deal. So can I get your autograph?” he jokes.

“Sure thing,” you say, playing along. You motion for him to hold his palm out, and you trace your autograph on his hand. “There you go!” you say, tracing a smiley face and a heart as well.

“I’ll treasure this forever,” he quips.

“You better.”

You two fall into a comfortable silence as you both skate laps around the rink, observing the other people there. Like last time, there are couples on dates, there are little kids learning to skate, and there’s people who actually figure skate, doing spins in the centre of the rink.

“Right, I was going to say. You seem way, way more happier on the ice than you were before,” you tell Jungwon, who nods. “Yeah. I think I actually like skating again. I mean… I can’t exactly say love, because you know… sometimes I just revert back to the way I used to think whenever I fail at something.” he replies. “But competitions are a lot more fun. The ice doesn’t drain me of all my energy anymore, and winning medals sort of brings me fulfilment again.”

“That’s amazing, Won.” you say.

Now that you think about it. Jungwon wanted to retire because he didn’t love skating anymore. But now that Jungwon enjoys it again, you’re left wondering if he’ll still continue competitive skating.

It’s as if Jungwon’s able to read your mind. “I’m not sure if I’ll retire or not. On one hand, skating is fun now… and I’d like to continue at least maybe for a little longer, but I’m also wondering if I should just… let go. Explore things outside of skating, even though I know I’ll probably come back to the ice every time.”

You let his words sink in for a moment. “I think… you don’t have to decide your future plans this early. You could decide at the Olympics, after you skate. Or you could even go to Worlds after the Olympics and decide then.”

“Yeah. I could do that.” Jungwon breathes out. “I’m just… indecisive and unsure of everything right now.”

“No, I get it,” you nod. “You have time, Jungwon. Don’t rush things.” you tell him.

Jungwon agrees with you. Thinking about too much and thinking too far ahead were two of the many reasons why he fell out of love with figure skating. Now that he’s slowly started to enjoy it again, he knows he has to rid himself of his bad habits.

“Okay. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to retire. If I was, I would’ve already done it by now.” he says, smiling. “And if I don’t retire this season, I’ll probably just retire in 2030. I can still fulfil my dream of leaving at the biggest stage.”

“I feel like I’d do that as well, if I’m not gonna lie.” you say, and Jungwon tilts his head. “So are we retiring together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… if you don’t retire during this Olympics, then probably. But do what feels right, Won. Don’t do it because you feel pressure from others to keep going. If you love the sport, you’ll always find a way back to it, like something like professional skating, or coaching, or doing commentary. If you think it’s time, then it’s time.”

Jungwon can always count on you for giving him great advice.

“You’re right.” he says. “Anyways… enough about that.” he spots a penguin skating aid in the corner, and he skates up to grab a hold of it. He pushes it as he skates, and you can’t help but find the mere action adorable.

You pull out your phone to record him, and you chuckle as you see him skate faster towards you. “Cute,” you say, and Jungwon’s cheeks flush pink. If you ask, he’ll blame it on the rink being cold.

“You use it,” he says, pushing the skating aid towards you. You gladly take it, grabbing ahold of the handles, pushing it as you skate with Jungwon by your side.

Talking to Jungwon is easy. He tells you about how he stores his medals in ziplock bags when he needs to take them to interviews, to which you propose a better idea: using socks (a trick you learned from none other than Yuzuru Hanyu himself.) He also tells you about his dog, Maeumi, who apparently had watched your Grand Prix de France free skate with him – Jungwon says that Maeumi was absolutely mesmerised by your performance, and it’s interesting how every single thing Jungwon says is able to bring a smile to your face.

You tell him that you’d like to meet Maeumi, and he tells you that you’re welcome over anytime. Your heart flutters at the invitation that you accept warmly. “In fact, you could come over after we leave.”

“Really?” you ask, and Jungwon nods. “It’s not like we’ll be spending more than an hour here anyways. We already spend most of our days at another rink – we’d get way too bored if we spend hours here like everyone else.”

Jungwon is right. After 20 minutes of more skating and just talking to each other about your lives (as if you didn’t learn nearly absolutely everything about him during the off-season), you and Jungwon head over to his apartment, where you meet Maeumi.

And as you play with Maeumi, gushing over how cute he is, you notice the fond smile on Jungwon’s lips as he watches you two from the couch.

You don’t know why, but that look on Jungwon’s face makes you think that perhaps you two could be something more than friends.

FIFTEEN. last nationals skate (?)

Jangmi calls Jungwon the day before the short program for Nationals.

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she tells him. “It’s your career, not mine.”

Jungwon sighs. “It’s fine. I don’t think I know what I want to do with my career either. Retiring is an option, and competing… also is another option now.”

Jangmi somehow sounds happier at the sound of Jungwon’s words. “That's… good,” she says, trying to not make it obvious that continuing to skate is still an option for Jungwon. “What changed your mind?”

“I started liking it again.” he says, gazing at the sheet of ice in the Uijeongbu ice rink. The ice finally feels like home again, and instead of bringing him dread, Jungwon feels at ease at the rink now. The pressure is no longer something that drags him under – it is now something he uses to allow himself to skate better.

Now when he skates, he feels his passion for it again. “Even the brightest of flames burn out,” you had said. His flame dimmed, nearly being put out entirely – but he’s more than happy to have been able to ignite it again.

And as his music starts playing for the short program, Jungwon realises something as he glides across the ice elegantly.

If he retires, this will be his last ever Nationals.

This crowd, this rink, this atmosphere – it’ll be the last time he ever gets to experience this. He stays completely focused on his program, but this thought lingers at the back of his mind when he lands the quad lutz.

The audience cheers, and Jungwon’s eyes catch sight of the banners that fans have made for him in the crowd, with encouraging words that bring a smile to Jungwon’s face.

When he finishes his short program, Jungwon pumps his fist into the air, more than satisfied with his performance. He skates around the rink as the audience throws stuffed animals onto the ice, picking some up as he thanks the crowd.

He bows before leaving the rink, Irene pulling him into a hug after he puts his skate guards on. “You did amazing.” she says, and Jungwon smiles. “Thank you,” he replies, as he makes his way to the Kiss and Cry.

As he waits patiently for his scores, he can’t stop thinking about how if he does decide to retire at the end of this season, that was his last ever short program at Nationals. He didn’t think this far ahead when he told Irene that he wanted to hang up his skates at the beginning of the off season, and now that he realises that he may be nearing the end of his career, Jungwon suddenly starts feeling a wave of sadness.

He was nothing but sure about his decision when he told Irene that he’d be retiring. But now, sitting in the Kiss and Cry at quite possibly one of his last competitions ever, Jungwon thinks he might just want to hold on for a little longer.

“The scores, please.” the announcer says, ending Jungwon’s train of thought.

“The short program score for Yang Jungwon is 112.36, which currently puts him in first place.”

The crowd erupts into cheers at his score, and Jungwon smiles in satisfaction while Irene claps. “Good job,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her. He stands up, bowing once again before leaving the Kiss and Cry, and everything just slowly starts sinking in.

If this was his last short program ever at Nationals, at least he did well.

But Jungwon doesn’t want this to be his last ever Nationals. The feeling of wanting nothing more than to just leave the ice has completely disappeared in a matter of months, and Jungwon now just wants to stay.

Maybe it isn’t time to hang up his skates.

After finding his passion for skating again, Jungwon just wants to feel the thrill of competition. He dreaded competitions months ago, but now his feelings towards the ice have completely changed. Winning medals can finally bring him satisfaction again – he’s being acknowledged for being good at something that he loves.

He can now look at the cameras while standing atop that podium with a genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t feel like he’s a robot anymore, with every move he makes when he skates programmed into his brain – he feels like he’s a writer, or a poet, telling his story on the ice.

He changes out of his costume, putting on a hoodie and some sweatpants before leaving the locker room. He checks the time, realising that there’s only an hour until the women’s free skate – he promised you that he’d be in the crowd.

With 16 polar bear stuffed animals that he currently does not have.

He rushes to the nearest toy shop, asking the staff if they have polar bear plushies still in stock, and luckily, they do. The shop assistant helping him looks slightly concerned when he asks for 16, but still brings them all out in a basket. “Is this for (Name)?” she asks, and Jungwon furrows his eyebrows, confused as to how she would know that.

“Yeah… how’d you know?”

“Bunch of people came in asking for polar bear stuffed toys to throw onto the ice for her.” she says, scanning all the polar bears. “Oh. That’s nice of them.” Jungwon replies.

“You bought the most.” the shop assistant says, putting all of them into a large shopping bag for Jungwon, noticing how he only has a backpack that most certainly won’t fit 16 polar bear toys.

“Oh, cool.” he says, swiping his card on the reader. The transaction goes through, and the shop assistant smiles at him before handing him his receipt. “Good luck to both you and (Name) on your free skates,” she tells him, and Jungwon thanks her before leaving the store.

He makes it back to the Uijeongbu ice rink just in time, with Jongseob saving him a seat. “That’s a shit ton of polar bears you’ve got there,” Jongseob says, holding a plushie of Artemis from the Sailor Moon series to throw on the ice after Jiwon skates.

“Yeah.” Jungwon replies, putting the shopping bag onto the ground.

“You’re a dedicated boyf– fan!”

“Enough.”

There’s five groups of skaters, and you’re the last to skate. Jungwon cheers for each and every skater, but his cheers will definitely be the loudest for you. Jongseob yells as his life depends on it when Jiwon skates onto the ice.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to skate. You look at the crowd, spotting Jungwon and Jongseob sitting together and you flash Jungwon a smile, whilst a shit-eating grin spreads across Jongseob’s lips. “Good luck,” he mouths to you, and you nod as a way of saying thank you.

Your program goes well, for the most part – aside from falling on a quad toe loop and stepping out on a triple lutz. Jungwon knows that you’ve done enough to secure a podium spot – and a spot on the Olympic team, and it seems as if you know that too, tears streaming down your face the minute you finish your program.

You’re going to the Olympics. You’ve finally achieved your lifelong dream.

Cheers and applause resound throughout the rink, with tons of polar bear stuffed toys being thrown out onto the ice by fans, and Jungwon is one of them. You see him throw out polar bear after polar bear from the shopping bag he’s holding, and a sweet smile spreads across Jungwon’s lips as he sees your surprised face.

“16?” you mouth at him, and Jungwon nods. You can’t help but clap your hands over your mouth to hide your laughter, and as the announcer calls your name again, you skate into the middle of the rink, bowing once again before leaving.

Eventually, it is you, Jiwon and another skater named Kim Chaeyeon who get named to the Olympic team.

Like how Jungwon bought 16 plushies for you during your free skate, you buy 17. It’s a funny coincidence how you both end up going to the same toy shop, and the shop assistant gives you a smile when you enter. “Could I get… 17 cat plushies?”

“This is for Yang Jungwon, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“He said the same thing when he came in yesterday to get 16 polar bear plushies for you,” she says, taking the toys and putting them into a basket. You have a nice conversation with her before you leave the shop with a large bag holding exactly 17 cat plushies.

You notice multiple things when you’re in the audience. Jiwon has a stuffed animal of a tiger in her lap that she throws out onto the ice when Jongseob skates. She also gives you a look as if to tell you not to tease her about it. You also see tons of people holding cat plushies, ready to throw onto the ice after Jungwon skates, and you’re one of those people too.

You also notice the passion Jungwon now has for skating. He commands the ice, moving fluidly across the rink – Jungwon is a phenomenal skater. Goosebumps rise up on your skin, and you don’t think any other skater has been able to convey emotions to the audience this effectively.

Like you, Jungwon qualifies for a spot on the Olympic team.

He gazes at you as you throw cat plushies onto the ice, and a fond smile spreads across his lips. “17?” he mouths at you, and you nod.

Jungwon wonders if your heart’s beating as fast as his.

Little does he know, it is.

SIXTEEN. born to skate

Just being able to go to the Olympics is truly sensational.

You weren’t even able to fully process it until you saw a staff member walk up to you and hand you your Olympic security pass. Your name’s on it, along with the 2026 Milano Cortina logo on the right – and under your name, it says athlete.

You can’t believe a security pass might actually make you burst into tears.

Jungwon hangs his security pass over his neck, and then turns to look at you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “It’s just kind of crazy. I’m going to compete at the Olympics – Wonie, oh my god. I’m an Olympian.”

“You are,” he says. He takes your hand, locking his fingers with yours and gives your hand a tight squeeze. The mere action makes your face feel hot, your heart beating in your chest incredibly fast. “You’ll do great, don’t worry.”

“You will too,” you say, beaming at him. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Jungwon doesn’t want to let go either.

He only let go when Jongseob and Jiwon were walking towards you two.

That aside, time seems to go by faster for some reason. You arrived in Italy 2 days before the men’s short program event, and today’s already the day. Jungwon changes into his costume, and zips on the South Korea team jacket before he leaves the changing room.

“You ready?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I'm a little nervous, but it’ll go away when I start skating.” he replies, and you smile. “You’ve got this, Won.” you say, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Before he starts skating, Jungwon looks into the crowd to spot where you’re seated. You give him a thumbs up, and he smiles softly before getting into his starting position.

Jungwon has missed the Olympic ice.

In the crowd, you notice how Jungwon’s skating even better than he did at Nationals. He skates with pure emotion – as if this skate could very well be his last.

Then the realisation hits you like a truck.

If Jungwon did decide to retire, sticking with his original plans – this would be his last competitive short program, ever. And now every move he makes on the ice seems to have a whole new meaning for you.

He skates like he’s got everything on the line. Time and time again, Jungwon tells the audience that he was born to skate – but this performance proves it. Every jump, every spin, every transition, every choreo sequence and every step sequence is executed to absolute perfection.

Yang Jungwon is a master of his craft. Nobody can doubt that.

Nobody will doubt that after this performance.

Jungwon has sacrificed hours, days, months and years to produce a performance like this. He has never felt such fulfilment, such satisfaction after skating – the only word he can use to describe how he feels after his skate is that he is proud.

He is proud that he was able to put out a performance like that. He is proud that he’ll be recognised for an impeccable short program. But most importantly, he is proud that he delivered a program of such quality whilst enjoying every moment he had on that Olympic ice.

And when the scores are announced, saying that he is currently in first, Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier. Irene hugs him tightly, and Jungwon’s practically shaking in disbelief.

Nobody beats his short program score for the night. Jungwon knows the medal is just within his reach.

Feeling victory finally feels good, and Jungwon hasn’t even won yet.

When you rush up to him immediately after he exits his changing room, you wrap him in a huge hug, and at first, he’s startled by your action. But he immediately hugs you back, his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink that he knows he’ll get teased about if Harua sees it.

“Won, that was incredible!” you could gush over his performance for hours and hours on end. “You were absolutely mesmerising. The image you were painting inside my head – all of our heads! It was so vivid. I felt like I could feel what you felt as you were skating. Everyone was blown away. You’re absolutely sensational.”

Jungwon thinks of you in an incredibly high regard. So hearing these words from you makes his eyes well up slightly with tears, and you immediately notice.

“Don’t cry!” you say, wrapping him in another hug. “I just needed you to know how incredible you are.”

Jungwon needs you to know how incredible you are as well.

He feels nothing but warmth as he’s in your embrace, and truly, perhaps this is what Jungwon thinks he might call love. Because you care for him in a way that nobody else has. You didn’t know him well at the time, but still offered to try and get him to enjoy skating again. You push him to be a better skater, and a better person – and Jungwon didn’t think he knew what love was.

But now he thinks he does.

Quite simply, love is you.

And he cares for you more than he cares about anyone else, even if he thinks that he is terrible at showing it. He isn’t the best when it comes to love, or relationships – but he’s learning. He’s learning all because of you.

In less than one year, you have changed Jungwon’s life entirely.

You’ve taught him how to have fun skating again. You’ve taught him to allow himself to loosen up, and not let pressure define him. You’ve also taught him what it’s like to be loved. And how to love.

Jungwon doesn’t know if this is a stretch, but he feels like you might’ve quite literally saved him. Jungwon is forever grateful for the fact that you walked into his life the moment he needed someone like you.

And Jungwon is more than sure that he indeed does love you.

Jungwon feels relief when he finally admits it to himself. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knew that he loved you all this time – he just didn’t exactly confront himself about his feelings.

With you by his side, Jungwon feels like an Olympic gold medalist already.

SEVENTEEN. olympic ice

The free skate rolls around faster than Jungwon thought.

But he thinks that he’s prepared. He’ll give it his all tonight. He doesn’t even think about the upcoming decision he has to make about his career – he personally believes that the idea that he could possibly win Olympic gold feels a little more important than that.

He knows you’re in the crowd, watching him. It gives him an extra boost of confidence. Jungwon doesn’t realise this until now, but he seems to skate better when you’re in the audience. Perhaps you’re his lucky charm.

He’s last to skate, being first in the short program. Jungwon’s fully focused during the couple minutes of warm up, jumping a triple axel that he manages to land well, and a quad toe that he finds is a little shaky on the landing, but he’ll try and land it cleanly in the actual program.

Over the speaker, it’s announced that the warmup time is over. Jungwon and some of the other skaters leave the ice, and the first person skating in the group starts his program.

Whilst the other skater performs, Jungwon runs through his entire program in his head. He can’t let the pressure get to him – he knows he’ll do worse. He reminds himself to have fun. He’ll be skating on Olympic ice for possibly the last time ever, so he knows that he’ll have to make this count.

Your words ring in his head as he waits for the skaters before him to finish performing their programs. Skating is something that is meant to be enjoyed with the audience.

Jungwon decides that he will enjoy every minute and every second of it.

Irene gives him a thumbs up before he skates out to the centre of the rink. “You’ve got this, Jungwon. Stay focused, stay calm.” she tells him, and Jungwon nods.

“You go kill it out there.” she says, smiling at him.

Jungwon skates off, and Irene just has the proudest look on her face. She knows that this could very well be the last competitive skate of Jungwon’s life. No matter the result, she would be proud – Yang Jungwon has accomplished so much in his career at the age of 22.

“Last to skate: Yang Jungwon, of South Korea!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, Jungwon raising his arms above his head. He lets them fall back down by his sides, doing a couple twizzles around the rink before skating into the centre.

He gets into his starting position, and the music starts.

He’s done this program tons and tons of times before. He knows exactly what to do at the exact second, twirling across the ice gracefully. First, is the quad lutz.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he sets up the jump, taking off – and he lands it.

With one jump, Jungwon makes the crowd go absolutely crazy. Their shouts die down soon after, allowing Jungwon to listen to the music so he knows when and what he needs to do next.

He successfully lands more jumps, including a quad salchow-quad toe loop combo that he’s able to land flawlessly. Everything is going well, Jungwon thinks.

As he skates beautiful transitions on the ice, you catch his eye. You’re gazing right at him with the softest look on your face, and Jungwon thinks his heart might melt. You nod at him, as a way to tell him that he’s doing great.

Jungwon doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, but in the middle of his Olympic free skate, he feels more compelled to confess his feelings for you than ever.

He knows that he just has to tell you.

When he realised he liked you, he decided that he had to wait for the right time to confess. He didn’t exactly know when the right time would be, or if he would ever even find the right time. He also certainly didn’t expect it to be right in the middle of his free skate.

But everything is crystal clear. Jungwon knows it’s the right time, and he can’t exactly shout out that he loves you when he’s currently preparing to jump a triple axel, but he knows the second he’s able to, he will.

It’s as if time slows, and you’re the only one in the audience. Jungwon only sees you. You two are just in your little bubble – just you, him, and the ice.

Jungwon skates with so much power, and so much emotion, trying to express every word he wants to say to you, but with his skating. The crowd’s cheers get louder every time Jungwon lands a jump, and it only gives Jungwon motivation to keep getting better and better.

Olympic gold is so close. If he just reached up and grabbed it, the shining gold plaque would be right in his hands – and Jungwon knows that he cannot let that slip away between his fingers. His whole life has led up to this moment. Falling in love with the ice, then finding that he had let himself hate it, and then trying to ignite that love and passion he had for skating once more. All of this, allowed for him to skate the cleanest program he’s ever skated at the world’s biggest stage for figure skating.

The music ends, and the crowd erupts with cheers. Jungwon stands there, shocked and still in his ending position. He feels like he can’t move.

He can’t believe it.

Did he just win Olympic gold?

Countless cat plushies fall onto the ice around him as Jungwon just bursts into tears. Irene’s crying as well, tears of joy streaming down on her face as she claps. Jungwon tries to spot you in the crowd, and when he does, he sees you jumping up and down excitedly with Jiwon, and you just look so incredibly happy for him.

After the toughest years of his career, fighting to try and keep going in a sport he loved no longer, Jungwon is finally able to love figure skating again, and he might have just won Olympic gold in the process.

He’s still in shock when he leaves the rink, and Irene pulls him into the tightest hug she’s ever given him, as Jungwon cries into her shoulder. “You did it.” she says.

“I did it.” he says – he can’t even believe the words he just said. He heads to the Kiss and Cry with Irene, pulling out tissues from his tissue box nonstop to wipe his tears away.

Jungwon waits in the Kiss and Cry for his scores – he knows that he’s won. He just needs the scores to confirm it.

And sure enough, mere minutes later, Yang Jungwon is announced as the 2026 men’s Olympic figure skating champion.

Jungwon can’t stop crying. Tears just keep falling down his cheeks as he bows to everyone. He can’t even use the word joy to describe what he’s feeling. He never thought he could feel this happy after winning a competition.

If you told Jungwon months ago that he’d be crying tears of joy after winning a competition, he most certainly wouldn’t have believed you.

The venue ceremony is soon. So soon to the point where Jungwon isn’t even able to come up to you and tell you how he feels. He’ll do it as soon as the ceremony is over.

As Jungwon steps onto the highest block on the podium, he’s still in disbelief. It isn’t until the medal actually gets hung around his neck, and he touches the shiny golden plaque. He’s not just Olympian Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 2025 World champion Yang Jungwon. He’s not just 6 time National champion Yang Jungwon.

Now, he’s also Olympic champion Yang Jungwon.

Falling back in love with skating was hard. Sometimes he felt like simply just giving up was the easier option – but now with the Olympic gold medal right in his hands, Jungwon knows that pushing through it was the right thing to do. He’s never been more sure of that.

Jungwon has also never been more sure about the fact that he loves you, and he desperately needs to tell you. As soon as the venue ceremony is over, Jungwon rushes out of the rink, quickly changing from his skates to his regular training shoes – he doesn’t even bother to change out of his free skate costume.

He finds you standing outside of his changing room, and before you can say anything, he wraps you in the tightest hug ever. He holds you like you’re oxygen, and he’s struggling to breathe.

When he pulls away from the hug, with the gold medal dangling around his neck, he grasps ahold of your hands. “Jungwon, you did it.” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“I have to tell you something.” he murmurs. He opens the door of his changing room, pulling you in with him as he shuts the door. “What is it?” you ask.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen.

“I have never, ever known what it’s like to love someone. Even figuring out that I liked you was so hard – because I knew that I felt differently when I was around you, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it on what it was. Then, I was told I had a crush on you. I liked you. And that seemed right. Liking you seemed right.” he says, as you let his words sink in. “I was going to wait until I found the right time to tell you that I liked you. But two days ago, I realised that my feelings towards you seem to be more than like. Love. Yes. I love you.” he says, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Saying it sounds right. Saying it now feels right. And I don’t know if you would feel the same way – but I just saw you in the crowd as I was skating today, and I just knew I had to tell you.”

Jungwon can’t exactly read your reaction until you pull him into a hug.

“I love you too.” you say.

Jungwon feels like he’s on top of the world. Four simple words managed to make him even happier than he already was after winning the Olympics – he feels like his heart is about to burst at the seams, and he can’t hide the bright grin on his lips.

“That’s… that’s nice. I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” Jungwon confesses, and you frown, cupping his cheeks as you wipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same way, Jungwon?”

“I don’t know.”

You smile softly at him. “I realised that I liked you after we went to the ramen shop that Harua had suggested to us.”

“You realised earlier than me, then.” Jungwon chuckles.

“I guess so.”

Jungwon can’t believe he only just realised the close proximity between your faces. Your gaze travels to his lips, before you look back up at his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Jungwon whispers back.

You lean in, connecting your lips with his, and warmth just blooms across Jungwon’s chest, his cheeks, and all the way to the tip of his ears. He can taste the mint flavoured lip balm that he always sees you put on, and it’s only when you pull away that Jungwon realises that it was his first kiss.

You smile at him brightly, and Jungwon mirrors the expression on your face. It’s hard not to smile when he sees you – you just make him so incredibly happy. Jungwon knows that you make him happier than any Olympic gold ever would.

The sweet moment is cut short when Jungwon’s whisked away to the press conference, and you tell him that you’ll be seated in the crowd to watch. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek before running off, his cheeks tinted bright red as you chuckle at his reaction.

“How do you feel after a wildly successful season like this, Jungwon?” a reporter asks, and Jungwon thinks about what is the best way to answer his question.

“This was… a tough season for me mentally.” he says into the microphone. “In all honesty, I fell out of love with figure skating quite some time ago. Going into this season, I was certain that I was going to retire after the Olympics.”

Every single person in the room looks at him with wide eyes.

“But, during the off season, I was lucky enough to meet someone who helped me start enjoying it again.” he says, looking directly at you. “They taught me that above all, I should be enjoying myself while I skate, instead of focusing on the pressures to win and do well.”

“I don’t think I expected to do as well as I did all season,” Jungwon says earnestly. “But I realised that the more I enjoyed skating, the better I did. I think coming into the Olympics, I just tried to focus on having fun and showing the audience my best. Because of this, I think that’s why I was able to do well.”

“So will this be your last competition?”

Jungwon presses his lips together in a thin line, as if he’s still unsure about what decision he’s going to make. But when he locks eyes with you, it’s like everything clicks into place. He knows what he wants. He wants to skate.

“It’s not my last competition,” he says. “I’m going to keep competing. At least for a little while longer. I realised that I can’t exactly let go of the ice this soon when I’ve just started loving it again.”

As he says that into the microphone, Jungwon knows that it’s the right call. There’s a proud smile on your lips, and Jungwon returns the gesture.

The ice finally feels like home once more. But, Jungwon also realises that home is also wherever you are.

#enhypenwriters #kflixnet #enhypennetwork #k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon oneshots #jungwon fluff #jungwon angst #jungwon scenarios #jungwon au #jungwon x reader #⛸️ kiss and cry!

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abiiors · 3 months

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red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you.

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him.

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like.

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time.

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place.

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly.

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry.

“come in,” you offer and he nods.

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance.

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby.

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless.

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past.

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name.

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room.

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head.

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame.

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through.

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby.

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door.

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe.

you don’t need a third.

you only need her.

matty doesn’t give up.

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside.

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day.

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it.

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens.

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting.

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times.

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter. i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out. i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once. i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future. i’m leaving that decision up to you. there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again. till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia. love, matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right?

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too.

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up.

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words.

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest.

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days.

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right.

this is not about you. this is about your daughter.

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it.

gone. winked out of existence just like that.

and then you open a fresh new thread.

hi matty, hope you’re well. got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone.

half a minute later, three dots dance in response.

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you.

sunday works. see you then.

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery.

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get.

the more you feel fear grip your chest.

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life.

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat.

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option.

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again.

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache.

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps.

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around.

fuck.

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning.

absolutely no one who will even answer.

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand.

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side.

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it.

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries.

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all.

as if this was all his dream.

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly.

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point.

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before.

something about it makes your heart stutter.

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread.

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest.

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly.

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer.

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away.

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally.

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery.

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat.

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever.

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden.

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it.

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest.

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed.

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song.

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it.

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes.

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks.

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum.

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls.

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen.

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes.

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him.

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up.

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this.

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face.

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye.

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo.

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back.

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest.

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation.

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince.

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father.

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod.

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother.

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard.

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer.

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out.

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights.

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it.

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours.

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence.

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity.

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil.

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter.

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares.

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth.

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours.

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now.

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between.

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support.

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly.

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw.

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter.

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear.

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair.

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank.

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter.

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all.

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face.

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right.

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin.

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head.

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights.

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head.

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that.

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue.

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt.

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid.

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod.

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room.

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again.

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place.

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss.

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge.

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world.

you’d die if he were to let go of you now.

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming.

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it.

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out.

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge.

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin.

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit.

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you.

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes.

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst.

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it.

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest.

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

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teecupangel · 6 months

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@thedragonqueen1998's reply to this post

That new tag actually is an idea/AU i've thought of lately. XD Where Desmond gives birth to Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton before being kidnapped. I've personally had him just suddenly become pregnant, no sex needed to lean more into the "Desmond is the Chosen One". XD Plus, we need more Dadmond tbh.

Virgin Birth.

Desmond had never even heard about it until he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

This is, according to Wikipedia, different from Immaculate Conception.

Desmond would like to reiterate that he was not the second coming of Virgin Mary.

… as far as he knew.

Not only that, he had been a virgin before he gave birth, having enough trust issues to fill a goddamn dam at the moment.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how sex feels like.

It was more that he was still scared that his father or someone his father sent would come find him and take him away from this freedom.

He can’t go back.

He would never go back.

Especially now that he had three sons to think of.

They were born on December 21, 2005.

At least, that was what Desmond believed.

The morning of December 21, his stomach started hurting so badly he couldn’t leave his bed. The pain ebbed and flowed from paralyzing pain to almost unnoticeable, giving Desmond a chance to text that he wouldn’t make it to his shift because of ‘stomachaches’.

His boss assumed he had diarrhea and told him to stop eating weird cheap shit.

Desmond was pretty sure that wasn’t it but it wasn’t like he could go to a clinic and get this check out.

Clinics meant asking questions about who he was and his history.

Clinics left tracks that William Miles can find.

Desmond knew how the game is played.

And fuck that. Desmond wasn’t going to give up his goddamn freedom because of a stomachache.

It will come to pass.

Like every pain Desmond ever felt.

So he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling, timing his breathing to the ebb and flow of the pain.

By midday…

Desmond fell asleep.

He didn’t know if the breathing helped him fall asleep or if he had passed out from the exhaustion and pain.

When he woke up, the sun had started to set and…

The pain was gone.

His bed was a lost cause, covered in blood, but Desmond’s attention was focused on the three small forms lying on the bed between his legs.

His sons.

Three bloodied (and, Desmond was being honest, wrinkly newly born ugly) babies who were all staring at him as they make cooing sounds.

That was the day Desmond became a father.

And also the day he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

They were… low maintenance boys, Desmond supposed.

They only shout when they needed to get Desmond’s attention and they weren’t fussy over their drinks. They seemed a bit disgruntled every time Desmond had to change their diapers but they didn’t cry.

They rarely cry.

They only truly cry at times when they were asleep and Desmond believed that they would have nightmares during those times.

His boss was strangely alright with Desmond suddenly appearing with three babies, only looking at him with a frown as he told him that this should be his wake up call to use condoms.

Even his coworkers believed that the one day that Desmond said he was out because of ‘stomachache’ had been code for him freaking out because an ex had left him with three sons as a big fuck you or something.

The most support Desmond got from them though was letting the babies stay in the office.

He had to buy the collapsible playpen though but it was fine.

It gave him an excuse to get more shifts just to pay for his and his sons’ living expenses.

One of his coworkers asked why he didn’t just give them up for adoption. It was clear that he wasn’t ready for it.

And Desmond couldn’t explain it.

He wanted them.

They might have been a surprise but… they were his.

And…

Whenever he felt tired or felt like everything was becoming too much… just feeling them in his arms was enough.

It was enough.

Miles’ kids were strange boys.

They didn’t make any messes and they were polite… most of the time, anyway.

He knew it was bad to let Miles use his office to keep the kids. Hell, this bar was not a good place for kids and Miles should really just get a babysitter but he didn’t mind.

Miles was homeschooling them… in a way.

It wasn’t his place to give parenting advice anyway so he stayed out of whatever Miles planned for his kids. As long as they don’t hinder business, they could stay.

Altaïr was always on that second hand battered laptop that always made loud fan noises when it was turned on. They mostly kept it on because of it.

At first, he thought Altaïr was just playing in his laptop but… he was studying. Every tab he could see was either educational or… well… Wikipedia pages. Even the YouTube account Desmond shared with his sons were filled with educational videos, mostly something connected to history or engineering or technology.

Desmond liked to say that Altaïr was a genius and had been saving up to buy him a better laptop for the past year now.

Ezio, on the other hand, was more of a people’s person. He liked to talk to Desmond’s coworker before the start of their shift and he was a charming little bugger. Charming enough that many of Desmond’s coworkers started to give them food and juice boxes, saying they made too much or their parents or grandparents gave them too much food and there’s no more space in their fridge…

He was pretty sure that was Ezio’s plan from the very beginning. Build up a network of helpful adults.

Then there was Connor.

He had a different name that Desmond and his brothers use but it was hard to pronounce so he just let everyone else call him Connor.

He followed his father or one of his brothers most of the time, quiet by their side.

Observing.

He was the one who helped out the most, always following Desmond and helping him whenever they were doing their final clean up before closing for the day.

When he was with Ezio, he was always earnest with his questions, taking everything the adults tell him seriously.

When he was with Altaïr, he would lean close and read with him quietly. They would share the earbuds that they had with tape on the right wire because the casing had broken apart and watch videos quietly.

They were… nice kids.

Desmond was a good father dealt with a bad hand.

He supposed…

Buying Desmond a cheap laptop would be cheaper than raising his pay this Christmas.

Would save him more money in the long run, that’s for sure.

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squishytenya · 29 days

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choose your own path <3

pairings - readers choice x gn!reader

warnings - forced proximity quirk, crying, quirk accidents, exact warnings on each character post (each character's chapter will be linked at the bottom of this post when they are written)

welcome! I've kind of always wanted to do one of these so here it is! it's kind of soulmate au inspired and each of the choices is based on a popular romance novel trope :) hope you enjoy

I have a few specific characters planned for each imagine but if there is any you would like to see - lmk and I'll write it <3

The dust flew up around your face, sitting thick in your throat and causing you to force out a cough. This was certainly not how this was supposed to go. A simple patrol, one of your first since becoming a pro, it was supposed to be nothing more than dealing with a few muggings. Instead, the shrill cries of a young girl had pierced through the night. You and your partner had shared matching looks and flown down the street as fast as you could towards the noise with your hearts racing.

As it turns out, it was not the girl you would be saving. The screaming changed as you grew closer - morphing from fear to frustration and a hint of anger. Well, as much anger as a tiny five year olds body could muster. She was running frantically around, tripping on the rubble that she had somehow pulled up from the ground with her tantrum. And she seemed to be… tapping people? Not slapping per say but placing her tiny hands on people anywhere she could reach. Every time she placed her small palm on another person's skin, her little shoulders dropped in what you realised was relief. Unfortunately, the people she had tapped in her frenzy seemed to absorb the pain. Within seconds, almost everyone in the crowd around her had been sent to their knees, groaning in agony.

You shared a look with your partner and nodded at them - stepping towards the volatile child.

“Hey sweetie, it’s okay” you attempted to comfort her apprehensively.

“what’s your name?”

There was no indication, to your shock, that anyone else had tried to even converse with the toddler. The way she froze in her movements caused you to step back, until she turned her gaze on you and her brown eyes filled with tears. Her trembling body made your heart ache. Obviously, this was some kind of late quirk manifestation that had taken the poor girl by surprise. Yet, you still couldn’t understand why nobody seemed to want to get near her.

That was, until you noticed a pale yellow glow emitting from her palms. The young girl seemed to be just as panicked at this as you felt and started to move, as if to shake the glow from her palms. Her futile attempts only caused her breathing to pick up its pace again and she stumbled.

“We can help you” you spoke soft and slow, gesturing to your partner, “you just gotta come here okay? Tell me what's got you so worked up”

The brunette girl sniffled, rubbing her face with her glowing palms. Pain curled in your chest at the sorry sight. Reaching forward, you moved your hand onto her shoulder and gripped it softly. It had been taught to you in training that younger civilians reacted well to physical contact, as it often reminded them of their parents. Not that you had paid much attention in that section of class, but you did remember some useful things. You would have to thank midnight for the tip once this is over.

Wailing, she curled in on herself and her head rolled back. Tear-filled eyes bore into yours and she started stuttering out apologies, the soft yellow glow growing more intense. The light emitting from her hands seemed to heat up as it intensified and the air around it started wobbling like the sun on a hot day. Squinting, you moved towards her to attempt to stop her touching another person. It didn’t seem to cause too many issues but you needed to keep the public away from the girl’s grasp until you knew the full extent of her quirk.

“I’m sorry” she screamed, in obvious pain now

“Sorry- I can’t stop it! It hurts! Want it to stop”

Before you could stop her, she reached towards your arm with her glowing fingertips outstretched. Your partner let out a shocked sound and shot forward towards the two of you.

It was no use, her tiny hand closed around the exposed skin of your wrist.

And… nothing.

Reaching behind you, you waved your frantic partner off. It wasn’t that bad, just a bit of heat. Certainly, the civilians around you were just reacting dramatically to the heat emanating from the little girl's hands. A slight tingle, sure, but nothing more than that. Honestly, you didn’t know what the other people in the area were making such a fuss about. It could probably be explained as a small energy quirk mixed with growing pains. It happened to the best of you.

You smiled warmly at the young girl again, despite your heart pounding in your chest. Oddly enough, light and that warping heat still remained on the hand that hadn’t touched you. Hmm you thought, maybe the quirk separates in her body? The girl's squirming seemed to confirm your theory - not quite the agonising pain you had witnessed a few seconds earlier, but definitely not comfortable to her.

Once again, your partner stood beside you and quirked an eyebrow. You shrugged in response.

“I don’t know what the big deal is, it was a bit warm but that’s pretty much it” you explained.

“No!” the young girl in your arms protested, “it doesn’t work like that-”

Your partner, shocked by her sudden outburst, moved closer to you. His action seemed to shock the girl huddled in your embrace and she reached towards his chest with her glowing hand. The entirety of her hand pushed against his chest, sending him reeling back at her surprising strength. Your eyebrows almost hit your hairline. That was certainly ammo to tease him with later on in your patrol, you thought to yourself.

Blinking, you set her on the ground. The warmth emanating from your wrist sharpened, causing you to clench your fist and shake your arm. The attempt to lessen the feeling proved futile. Burning sensations travelled up your arm, engulfing the rest of your body in the curling flame. You grunted as the scorching heat flowed through you like a flow of lava in your veins. Gripping your chest now as the burning seemed to swirl around your heart, you glanced over to your patrol partner and observed he seemed to be fairing the same way you did.

Desperately, you reached for your radio, dropping the now hysterical girl to the ground as gently as you could. Murmurs picked up in the crowd around you, obviously shocked at the immediate effect of the quirk. The metal of your radio was a cool relief against your feverish skin.

You gasped when the receiver crackled to life.

“Help requested” you almost sobbed, “two down in the market square… there’s been a quirk incident - we need help”

Bursts of the flame sensation flickered up to your head at this point. It felt like your whole torso had been set on fire. Sinking to your knees, you grasped your head in your hands and bit back a scream. Your chest heaved under the strain. Frantically, you gestured for the crowd to move away from you and your partner but made no attempt to move closer across to him.

“Ayami!” came a frantic voice from across the clearing.

“Mommy!”

“Sweetie, what have you done?”

“It was an accident” the little girl was in tears now and you reached to comfort her in earnest.

Not getting far, you clutched your hand to your chest as the flame feeling engulfed your eyes - spreading bright yellow into your vision. The young girl's cries were still ringing in your head as your eyes closed and you hit the cold ground.

Your head was swimming. There was no way of telling how long you had been out but your body held the same exhaustion as it did when a fever had just broken. The light above you was industrial and way, way too bright for your very tired eyes.

“They’re awake”

You grunted.

“Wish I wasn’t”

A familiar snort rang out across the space you were in.

“At least we can rule out a change in their charming personality.”

“Fuck off Katsuki”

You raised your middle finger in the general direction of the comment, eliciting a snort once again. You supposed you had to get up and face the world at some point. If you were safely in hospital, it most likely meant that the young girl from the night before had been contained.

“The girl,” you murmured, “she okay?”

The person next to you (mina, you assumed by the smell of her perfume) kissed their teeth - a less than comforting noise. You groaned again, this would probably require way more paperwork from you than you were prepared to do right now.

“Yeah, she’s fine - the old lady’s got something to tell you though.”

–

“You’re shitting me right?”

Recovery girl cast you a look over the rim of her glasses. Cringing, you began to apologise to the smaller woman but she cut you off.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but you will have to remain close to him” she explained, “we don’t know when the quirks effect will wear off, none of the civilians are back to normal yet”

You huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. This was just your luck really, exactly what you needed after a week of night shift patrols and shitty takeout dinner. The poor girl in the street had some kind of tethering quirk, none of the civilians hit had been able to separate themselves from each other for longer than five minutes without that burning sensation coming back full force. Each time she touched someone with one other hands, whoever she touched with the other was stuck with them until someone could figure this quirk out.

They’d been essentially sorted into pairs by the girl’s quirk. Like the game snap! Your brain helpfully supplied. The maximum distance they could go without hurting each other was a mere 8 feet.

8 feet was not enough space for you.

You and your partner had only patrolled together twice and now you were stuck within a room's distance of him the whole time. Sure, it was better than whatever that feeling was - but you were less than happy about it.

Knock knock.

Speak of the devil and he appears. You knew he was due to come in because the warm, mildly painful, tingle had started up again on the same wrist. Brilliant, this is my life now.

You looked up and made eye contact with your partner…

bakugou part one // part two

#bnha imagine #mha imagine #choose your own path #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #kirishima x reader #kirishima iamgine #aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #iida x reader #iida imagine #todoroki x reader #todoroki imagine #midoriya imagine #midoriya x reader

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 7 months

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Thinking about You... | JJK

Summary: Jungkook has been thinking about your future together Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook Word Count: 1.5k~ Warnings: No real warnings just some cute fluff and a little bit of suggestive comments. Author’s note: Just a little Drabble that I came up with last night after I had seen Jungkook live <3

I've been missing Jungkook like crazy that I feel almost a bit neglected. I know he's been busy working overseas but it seems like he hasn't really had time for me. He explained that he has a lot of things he has to accomplish while he's there but I can't help but miss him even more.

I feel like my hormones have been all out of wack for the past few days so that probably what's caused me to feel so needy, and with neediness that isn't taken care of comes insecurity. I kick my feet in frustration laying in the middle of our bed and pout for the zillionth time today. "I miss you" I say aloud hoping he might hear me.

*buzz buzz*

My train of thought is interrupted by the sound of my phone vibrating on my nightstand next to me. I flip over to check who it might be and quickly answer without a second glance.

"Kook!" I say so happy but still feeling upset at the fact that he can't be here. "How's my girl doing?" he says with a calm tone but still smiling, happy to see me too. "I miss you" is all I can say not really wanting to say how sad I've been but he can probably tell by my body language.

"Aw baby I miss you too" he says setting the phone down on the table in his hotel room and taking a seat. "Have you eaten yet?" I ask seeing how worn down he looks. "No I skipped my meals today" he says owning up to his negligence.

"Baby! You can't be doing that!" I scold, upset that he hasn't been taking care of himself. "It's okay, we had a huge company dinner last night and I also had to go out to lunch with a few of our clients before that too so I've been eating plenty, don't worry" he says with a sluggish smile.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I question again still concerned for him. "I'm fine love, I promise, I'm just really tired from all the work that we've been doing here. Plus my boss said that if I finish up with all of the tasks that I've been assigned that I could probably come home a few days early" he smiles as he sees my eyes light up at the thought of him coming home.

"Really?" I question, so hopeful that that'll be the case. "Really really" he says admiring me as much as he's able to through the screen. "What time is it over there?" I ask too tired to check my clock app where I had saved the timezone he was in this time. "It's pretty late" he says simply, not giving a clear answer.

"Well shouldn't you be going to bed then?" I say now concerned that I might be keeping him up. "No no I'm okay, I wanna talk to my girl for a bit. I've been so busy lately that I haven't been able to call you these past few day" he says pouting at me. "I hope you know how much I think about you" he says playing with his fingers on the table, feeling shy at his sudden confession

"Baby..." I let out about to tell him the same but he continues. "You know that I'm doing all of this for you right? You're my number one priority, don't forget that" he says tilting his head and paying close attention to me again.

"Are you trying to make me cry over here?" I say laughing as I feel myself start to tear up at his sentiments. "No that wasn't my intention but you know I think you look so pretty when you cry, especially when you're laying under me and I-" "Jungkook" I say getting embarrassed by his sudden switch up.

He chuckles a bit at my reaction and continues "Sorry love I just wanted to make sure you weren't really gonna cry" he says smiling at me cheekily. "Anyways I have a surprise for you when I come home!" he says with a big bunny smile.

"A surprise? What kind? You know you don't have to get me something every time you go away right?" I say giggling at his clear excitement.

"Trust me you're gonna want this one" he continues scrunching up his nose. "Cryptic but okay" I say and laugh it off and changing the subject.

"What have you guys been doing over there? Is everything running smoothly?" I question laying on my side and propping the phone up on the nightstand so I can lay down comfortably.

"Yeah everything is fine but I don't wanna talk about work right now, I wanna know how you're doing. What have you been up to?" he asks and grabs a mug of ice and starts to poor himself a Highball, no doubt in an effort to help him wind down.

I start telling him about the things I've been doing since the last time we spoke, I don't really get up to much except for the part time job I got not too long ago at a little boutique downtown. I insisted on getting it so I could have something to occupy my time even thought he didn't like it.

He has assured me time and time again that I don't need to work since he makes enough money for the both of us but I said I wanted to at least be able to take care of any personal expenses I may have like when I go out shopping on my own, it's the least I could do.

I'm not a gold digger and I don't intend on living off of my boyfriend even though he always tells me that he wishes I would rely on him more.

"You really like that job don't you?" he smile sleepily. I nod my head "Yeah the ladies that work there are so nice and the customers are so sweet as well! It's nice to be able to get out of the house and be productive with my time" I say and snuggle under the covers even more.

"Well what about if we decide to have a baby? Would you still want to work there?" he asks out of the blue.

"I'm sorry what?" I say jolting up and fully facing my body towards the camera. "I'm just asking hypothetically if we had decided to have a baby one day would you still want to work or would you finally let me take care of you?" he clarifies.

We've talked about having children in the past but it's been a few years since that topic has been brought up. "You want to have a baby together still right?" he asks now sounding a bit insecure.

"Oh my gosh baby yes, yes of course I do! I'm sorry you just caught me off guard that's all" I say rushing to answer, not wanting him to feel like I don't want the same thing.

"Remember though marriage first then babies" I say and he laughs at my old fashioned ways. "I know I'm just checking, we haven't talked about that stuff in a while and it's been on my mind lately" he admits.

"What made you suddenly start to think about it?" I question, curious to see where his head is at. "I don't know, I think I've just noticed a lot of young couples with kids lately and it reminded me how much I want that for us" he says starting to get a bit shy with the alcohol clearly taking it's toll on him.

"We would make some pretty cute babies huh?" I say going to lay back down. "Yeah we would" he says nodding in agreement, "I'm looking forward to the process of making one with you though more than anything" he says sporting a cheeky smile yet again. I give him a glare, clearly not amused with the taunting since we aren't able to act on it yet.

"Jeon Jungkook" I say in a warning tone, "Okay that's the last one I swear I won't tease you anymore" he says giggling clearly satisfied with my reaction.

We continue on with our call for a few more minutes before Jungkook makes his way over to his bed and mirrors me once he finally lies down. We continue on mumbling sleepily to each other before he decides we should call it a night and we end the call after a few 'I love yous' and 'sweet dreams'.

Jungkook gets up to check on the surprise one more time and crouches down on the floor to unzip his carry on bag and dig for the little box sitting at the bottom of it.

Opening it he sees the gorgeous engagement ring he had ordered for you months ago and ended up being one of the many tasks he had to carry out over seas. It worked out in his favor that his business trip ended up being in the same city that he had to go to to pick up the ring.

"Please say yes" he pleads to himself, desperate to hear your answer, but in his heart he knows that you want nothing more than to spend the rest of your life together.

Wanna see the proposal? Read Thinking about Us <3

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lucy90712 · 5 months

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omgg girl YOU HAVE TO DO this enemies to lovers fic with pedri where they're lowkey known to hate eachother in school but then one day the reader comes out of the classroom and and has blood on her face and is crying becasue this one dude messed with her and hit her and pedri sees her and is furious and asks her "who did this to you" and the reader refuses to tell him but then eventually gives in because of how mad he is and pedri beats the dude up like really bad, then the reader and pedri are at the nurses office and she asks him why he did that and pedri finally confesses his feelings for her and so does she and they like kiss in the end ?

you're writing style would slayy this prompt soo muchh so pleasee do write itt!, anyways take care of yourself!!, love youu

A/n: I changed up the idea a bit but I really like it so I hope you do too

WC: 2.2k After going the whole year waiting and celebrating all my friends birthdays it's finally my turn as it was my birthday during the week so now my friends are hosting a party for me at one of their places. All week I've been looking forward to this party as I haven't been out in a while because I've had other things to focus on with school and work. I went out and brought a new dress for tonight and everything because I want to look and feel amazing. I'm always the friend that just wearing casual clothes as I'm always too busy to get dressed up but not tonight I'm going to be the one getting all the stares and attention tonight. Usually I would say I don't care about getting attention from guys but tonight I want to prove someone wrong.

Pedri. That asshole football player. I met Pedri when I first moved to Barcelona as he was friends with the friends I made and ever since he's been around. He's like a fly that just won't leave you alone every time I think he's not going to show up he sneaks up on me and my night is ruined. I know for a fact that he will be there tonight because he's part of the friend group and everyone else is always trying to get up to get along but we just don't. For whatever reason Pedri took an instant dislike to me, to begin with I thought he was attractive but any feelings for him other than disgust quickly went away. He's always calling me names or just generally saying awful things to me but to everyone else he's an angel and the sweetest guy ever. The last time I saw him I had gone straight from an 8 hours shift with 4 hours of classes before and I heard him say to someone else that I never look good which is exactly why I want to prove him wrong tonight.

This morning I took myself to get my nails done and I got my hair cut for the first time in a while and now I've just got out the shower after having washed my hair and shaved. I feel like a whole new person and it feels amazing I don't know why I didn't make more of an effort sooner. The first thing I did was put my dress on then I did my hair and makeup which took a while as I wanted everything to be perfect but eventually I did it and everything couldn't look better. Looking in the mirror I almost didn't recognise myself but I lied the version of me I saw much more than the usual tired mess I usually see. My friends were all going crazy over the picture I sent in our group chat which gave me the boost in confidence I needed to go along with my new look.

Seeing as I plan to drink tonight I got a cab to my friends place where their party was happening. I purposely arrived a bit late because I want to make an entrance seeing as it's my birthday party and I put all this effort into my appearance I want everyone to notice well I want Pedri to notice. The door was unlocked so I just opened it and walked right in straight away everyone turned to look at me it felt like I was in a movie and for once I was the main character not a background actor. All of my friends immediately made their way over to shower me in compliments but all I was interested in was Pedri. It took me a second but I eventually I caught his gaze and I could see his pupils were dilated and his jaw was slightly open but as soon as he noticed I was looking he turned away. My mission for tonight is already complete now it's time to have fun and channel my hatred for Pedri into the best night of my life so far.

My best friend got me a drink and then took me off to go and dance with her. She made a playlist of all my favourite songs which she put on and we started dancing together. As we were dancing I had another drink or maybe two so I was definitely on a high but I wasn't drunk nowhere close to it. Somehow I lost my friend and ended up just dancing on my own which was fine until I guy I hadn't met before came over to talk to me. At first he was nice but then he got overly flirty and I just wasn't feeling it, I didn't come here to go home with a guy I just wanted to have fun and let loose.

Despite my best attempts the guy would not leave me alone and he was really starting to test my patience. His hands were all over my body which made me really uncomfortable but every time I tried moving them his hands went back to where they were if not lower. Once he started squeezing my ass that was enough for me I pulled away but the guy grabbed my arm and held it really tightly. I could tell it was going to leave a bruise but that's was the last of my worries all of a sudden all I could feel was intense panic flowing through my veins I felt as though I hadn't had a drop of alcohol I was so aware of every little touch on my skin. I've never been so scared in my life I've never felt this weak either, usually I'd stand up for myself without any hesitation but right now I can't get any words out and I can't make my body move even an inch. My whole being is now controlled but the fear of what this guy is going to do to me.

"You know you look super sexy in this dress" the guy whispered in my ear as he put a hand around my throat

"G-get off m-me" I managed to choke out

"What you don't want me even though you are practically begging for attention dressed like that" the guy taunted

That was enough for me I managed to free myself from his hold but I wasn't able to move quick enough to avoid him slapping me for presumably not wanting to sleep with him. I flinched at the pain but I also braced myself for more but it never happened. Suddenly there was someone else stood in front of me who punched the other guy just as I looked up. Everything happened so quickly but time seemed to slow down as I watched the guy that has been harassing me get punched in the face multiple times, even though it wasn't me doing it I felt great knowing someone had my back.

Once time went back to normal speed and the guy was finally escorted out of the house I finally got to see who had come in to protect me. That someone who I was thanking in my mind just a few seconds ago was Pedri. For once I saw a different look in his eyes instead of disgust and hatred I saw concern and worry. He cared although he has never acted like it he cares about me. That thought sent butterflies through my stomach, for some reason owning that deep down Pedri didn't really hate me made me feel relieved happy even.

There was a lot of thoughts swirling around in my mind not just about what happened but also about my feelings for Pedri. I was soon brought out off of my spiral though when I noticed Pedri turn towards me and reach his hand out to touch mine which sent a shiver down my spine. I could move as he looked at my wrist which was already starting to bruise and then studied my face which suddenly made me aware of the fact that I could feel something running down my face.

"Are you ok?" He asked

"Yeah I'm fine" I replied

"We both know that's a lie now come with me I'll clean you up" he said

He offered me his hand so I took it and he lead me through all of the people around who had just gone back to doing whatever they were doing before after watching what unfolded just a few minutes ago. Pedri lead me to the bathroom upstairs which was empty luckily so we went straight in and he locked the door behind us which made me a little nervous all of a sudden. As Pedri looked for the first aid kit I just stood there watching him as I was starting to realise that maybe my attraction towards Pedri hadn't disappeared and had just been buried deep down inside me instead as I was starting to feel the nerves I felt when I first met him again.

After a while of just staring at him Pedri finally found what he was looking for and turned back to me. He told me to sit on the counter in front of him so I made my way over ready to haul myself up on the surface but instead Pedri put his hands on my waist and lifted me into the counter. Having his hands on my waist felt weirdly comfortable it was as if this had happened a million times before I felt safe almost with his hands on me. He kept one hand on my waist as he gently cleaned up the cut I had on my lip which stung but every time I winced Pedri just squeezed my waist and apologised which somehow made it all better. As he worked to put cream on my lip and wrist I was completely captivated but the way he was sticking his tongue out fully concentrated on making sure he did everything he could to make me better.

This was the first time I noticed how perfect his face was. His hair, his eyes, his lips and his stubble that was beginning to form were all just so perfect. His hair looked so soft and fluffy. His eyes looked so caring and kind. His lips looked so kissable. Those thoughts had never crossed my mind before but thats simply because I wouldn't let them, I've always been attracted to Pedri but I didn't allow myself to feel these feelings as until today I thought he simply just hated me but this situation has made it clear that he doesn't hate me quite as much as I first thought.

"There we go, does that feel any better?" He asked

"It feels a lot better thank you" I replied

"Now tell me how are you actually feeling and please be honest" he said

"I'm ok still a bit shaken up but I'll be ok" I said

"I'm sorry this happened to you that guy was wrong to do that don't think for a second you deserved it because you don't no matter how beautiful you look" Pedri said which took my by surprise as I never expected him to call me beautiful

"Thank you it means a lot hearing you say that" I said

"I have to ask why did you help me I thought you hated me" I said

Pedri just stood there for a few seconds which made me regret actually asking him and not just thinking about the many possible answers. All of my anxieties quickly disappeared though when Pedri closed the gap between us and attached his lips to mine. The feeling of having his lips on mine was out of this world I don't know how to even describe it it almost felt like a void was filled that I didn't know was empty before. Where my lip is cut it definitely stung kissing Pedri but it was so worth it and I'd deal with much more pain if it meant I could kiss him again. Sadly the kiss eventually came to an end but Pedri stayed close to me and wrapped his arms around me even after he'd pulled away.

"I'm sorry I should've asked you first before doing that but I just couldn't resist" he said

"It's ok I enjoyed it but you didn't answer my question" I teased

"I never hated you I hated the fact that I found you so beautiful I told myself that I needed to focus on football and not dating so when we first met I thought it would be easier if I just acted like I hated you but it really didn't help and I just can't pretend anymore" he admitted

"Well I'm glad you don't hate me as that would've made this all very awkward" I laughed

"I know I've been awful to you but can we start over?" He asked

"Of course all is forgiven especially after you helped me out there" I said

"How about we get out of here and maybe we can talk over some ice cream" he suggested

"I like the sound of that" I replied

With that Pedri gave me another kiss which he apologised for as he realised it probably hurt me which it did but I happily kissed him again as he grabbed my hand to lead me outside to his car. I felt a bit bad for leaving my own birthday party but at the same time getting to know Pedri and exploring these newfound feelings sounds a lot more fun.

#pedri imagine #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri imagines #football imagine

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raaorqtpbpdy · 3 months

Text

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off.

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

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