Felt great before my jumprope workout. After a month of injuries and a lingering cold, where they kept me both off the mats and from working out regularly, I’m aiming for workout consistency. Even if it means jump roping for only 10 minutes or even 5, I want to establish consistency. I’ve discovered that consistency makes finding excuses much harder to do and keeps me more honest with holding myself accountable. Plus, with consistency comes results and progress.
namjoon x writer/reader (if you’d like to read it from your POV 😌)
info: FELLOW ARMYS!! this is actually possibly a scrapped drabble from a longer story ive written, one in my POV (but i hope when i have the courage to share it with you guys after it’s done, maybe you’ll be able to identify with it! if not hopefully you’ll still enjoy the story). i’m in the sport of MMA and wanted to write around that so here’s a sneak peak even though this part may be discarded. let me know what you think.
side note: still accepting requests if you have any! my inbox is open.
tags: fluff, aggressive sport, blood mention, curse words
My eyes were burning, my mouth was dry. I could see the sickly red color spread across my sunken knuckles the longer I struck the heavy bag before me. I could sense my hands begging for leniency, the sensation of pins and needles building up. But, fury and shame filled my belly and spread to my chest like a starving wildfire hunting for fuel. I couldn’t stop, and I didn’t want to stop.
Perhaps I had become too competitive in all my years of unruly training. To be gassed and worn out so quickly, especially with all those cameras flashing around in unison because they had shown up to the tournament and news caught wind. A recipe for distraction and failure, the sound of relentless fans screaming not for the sport, but for the boys still resounding in my head.
“What a fucking joke.” I hissed under my breath, starting to slow down unwillingly once I noticed my skin had broken, and blood began to trickle down towards my wrists. I had acquired boxer knuckles over my many years of training, and yet I seemed to surpass the healing in all my anger.
Alone I stood there, sweat stinging my eyes, lost solely in replaying the loss in my head.
The sound of the old gym door snapped me out of my self pity, strained eyes lifting to focus in on the unwelcome guest. “Who’s there?” I demanded instantly. Nobody would have been coming back to the gym after the tournament, not unless coach needed something out of his desk drawer. I waited in painful, short silence as I watched the shadow of a lanky figure enter the room. Fight or flight barely took hold of me, it was pure rage ready to attack whoever dared intrude on my solitude.
“Sky?” A low voice penetrated the heavy atmosphere, and as the figure moved closer to the dim lights only offering low visibility on the mats, I finally realized who it was.
“What do you want, Namjoon?” My question was a snarl, feeling my hands curl up instinctively, lowering my head like a wolf ready to defend itself against its enemy.
“I, uh….” He drags out a sigh, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw you storm out of the competition.” His eyes refuse to meet mine, and I take this as a slight sign of submission. My stance softens ever so slightly, allowing my burning extremities to loosen once more.
“You sure?” Namjoon is nervous, it can be felt easily. He finally gathers the courage to look directly at me, in all my wrathful, sweating glory. He begins to welcome a smirk, almost chuckling to himself but he resists, attentive to my obvious irritation.
“Yep.” I turn my back to him, ready to walk off to the other side of the gym. Two steps foreward and suddenly I feel myself yanked by the wrist. I released a surprised sound, turning back to see him towering over me. His expression has shifted once more, one molded with genuine concern. I try to reclaim my arm, glaring intensely at him as a fair warning, but he puts up a fight back, lifting my hand up to his view to look over my broken skin.
“You’re a terrible liar.” He lifts his free hand to gently place mine against his palm, examining it carefully. My teeth audibly grind together, feeling the intensity of tears stinging at the back of my eyes as I’m denied release. “What does it matter to you? It’s your fault.” I misplace the blame, the fame and popularity that follows him loyaly causing the distraction that cost me victory. Or so I tried to convince myself.
But… who was I truly angry at?
Namjoon isn’t intimidated by my fury, that much is certain when he doesn’t flinch at my posture or heated words. Instead he keeps me close, shaking his head. “I’m sorry it got so chaotic in there. If you want to blame me, go ahead.” A shrug of his shoulders follows his voice. It takes me a minute, maybe two, but I feel my body begin to relax and my gaze shifts to the floor. Namjoon wasn’t to blame for my failure. I knew this. But, I always had a habit of seeing things in red before seeing them calmly.
“Right.” Despite my realization, I couldn’t muster out more than one word. As the adrenaline began to wear off, the heavier my body felt, and the stinging in my hands began to grow more relentless, punishing me for the abuse I put them through. I winced once the pain coupled with Namjoon’s grip on me became more apparent, and he must have noticed because the tension began to loosen, but instead of dropping my hand, I watched him bring my wounded appendage up closer to his mouth and he gently, carefully planted a kiss to the side of it.
“I’m sorry again.” He whispers before finally releasing me. My eyes feel wide, absently watching him began to trail back towards the door, fed up with my aggressive behavior towards him despite his compassion. Once I snap out of my daze, I clear my throat, taking a step forward as if to chase him, but I don’t move farther than that.
“Wait!” My voice is a bit hoarse, but it does its job, stopping Namjoon in his tracks. I try to search for a reason to keep him there, not entirely surrendering my tense feelings but at the same time, a sudden warmth entered my chest. He raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to continue. It’s a few more quiet moments before I feel a smirk spread across my sweat covered cheeks, lifting a hand to motion him back towards me before pointing to the mats below.
There are 5 belts each with 4 stripes before passing to the next belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Now to be technical there is also the red belt but that is more of a symbol of transitioning beyond the realm of the sport and almost becoming an ambassador of the sport. There’s the white belt which i currently am with zero stripes. I am a baby in this world. Then comes the blue belt where most people end at or drop out. Purple belts who have their techniques down and their fundamentals are solid. Then come the brown belts who have their game down solid and are developing their own game tightening their skills and becoming monsters in the process. Then come the belt blacks who are so good it doesn’t even appear that they are doing the same sport as me.
This is hard and humbling experience. I can handle myself pretty well against the untrained. I was never afraid of a fight really always kind of thought of it as checking where i was at in terms of position in life. Like if we all lived in tribal society would i be a hunter/warrior or some other role. I’m currently awaiting my muscle strain to heal so that i can return to the mats and roll again. Until then I’m side lined watching them on Instagram wishing i was there learning, improving, making progress. I’m dying to get back in the game.
A belt black normally takes about 10 years of consistent training to achieve. I’m a month and a half in and half of that i been out with my back issue. This is one of the hardest things i have ever attempted. I want to be able to complete this and show my children look after all the time and dedicate to a craft i have achieved this bench mark in terms of my ability. That’s all I’m looking for is new challenges. New ways of improving. Striving for greatness in all forms. Right now I’m just a white belt dreaming of a black one……
#Nogi #Grappling is really effective in real life situations
we are using most effective methods from #Judo #aikido #hapkido #Taichi #kalari #systema #bjj #jujitsu
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