I'm in my late teens and have basically no social life. As weird as it may sound, I'm closer to my dad's friends than people my age. Have I been bullied for my loner lifestyle? Of course I have. But my dad raised me to not give a shit what people think - though it's not always that simple. I prefer headphones and hockey to most social interactions. I spend a lot of time shooting pucks in the alley near my house. Today is no different.
With my headphones playing music way too loud, I shoot my couple of street pucks towards a spare trunk my dad let's me borrow. Getting extremely consumed in the song, I accidentally fling the puck past the makeshift goal and into the street. At least there's no broken glass. I rush out of the alley to retrieve the hard disc.
I crouch down and pick it up, preparing to continue as usual. However, when I stand up, I notice a group of familiar hockey kids getting harassed by a trio of teens my age. Knowing how it feels to be in that situation - and my father's history - I refuse to stand idly by. Unbeknownst to them, I approach the cake-eaters from behind them, putting my headphones around my neck as I walk over.
"Leave them alone." I demand.
"What are you gonna do about it, freak?" One of them sneers.
"Gonna snitch to your dumb dad again?" Another spits.
"Yeah, it's not like you have any friends." The final one scoffs.
In a blind rage, I grab the second guy by the collar - gripping it so tight that my knuckles almost turn white. Using all my strength, I throw him against the nearby dumpster and shove his moronic friends at him - knocking them all to the ground.
"Don't you ever talk shit about my dad!" I shout.
"Let's get outta here!" The ringleader yells.
"Weirdo!"
As I stand with the group watching the trio flee the scene, I don't need a mirror to know I have a face like thunder. People can say whatever they want about me, but nobody gets to disrespect my dad.
"Thanks, Y/N." Evan expresses a collective gratitude.
"Yeah, thanks." The others scatter their thanks. I just give them a small nod of acknowledgement before putting my headphones back on and returning to the alley.
Cut to lunch the next day...
When I got home last night, I told my dad about the incident in the alley. It was a blast from his past as he showed his pride. Uncle Portman's mind was blown by the continuation of me proving to be my father's mini-me. Most teenagers rebel against their parents, but I have no real reason to - my dad is the best.
Despite my brief stint as a vigilante, school remains the same as every other day. With lunch rolling around, I sit alone at my regular table as per usual. As I eat my lunch and read a text from Guy about babysitting for him and Connie tonight, I sense that I'm no longer alone. I look up to see the young hockey team crowded around the table.
"Can we sit here?" Maya asks.
"Uh, yeah, I guess." I agree, caught off guard.
"Cool, thanks."
"Hey, thanks again for saving us yesterday." Evan speaks up as they all sit down.
"Don't mention it."
"It was so cool, you were like Batman or Daredevil!" Nick shows his nerdiness.
"We saw you practicing hockey - do you know how to skate?" Sophie questions.
"I'm not the best at it, but yeah, I can skate." I respond - still unnerved by the sudden social situation.
"You on a team?" Evan continues the line of questioning.
YOU ARE READING
The Mighty Ducks Imagines
FanfictionI may be late to the Ducks, but its better late than never. Enjoy the imagines that keep me occupied and distracted from reality. There's a lot of Fulton stuff.
