#I wrote most of this while drunk so I had to fix it

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re jealous and paige blows your back out to remind you she loves you.

warning (s): literally the nastiest thing I’ve wrote — smut, strap, pussy eating, finger sucking, choking, squirting, cervix play, dacryphilia, public stuff a little, nipple sucking, degrading, spitting, humping, drunk sex, Paige literally destroys you.

word count: 3k.

author note: been havin some terrible writers block so might be last post for a lil while — unedited, this sex is just so raw nd nasty I’m sorry bro I cannot pls read at own risk

You found yourself at the draft afterparty, separated from Paige, your girlfriend, but you hardly noticed as you knocked back drinks one after another. Time slipped away as you chatted with your two closest friends, Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Arnold, jokingly referring to yourselves as future NBA wives, with you as Mrs. Bueckers in jest.

As the drinks flowed, tensions rose. You were on your fourth shot in fifteen minutes when Aubrey's girlfriend remarked, "You know, I understand why you're so possessive, girl. If I were dating Paige, I'd be on edge too. She's quite the ladies-man." In your interpretation, her comment suggested that if she were in your shoes dating Paige, she wouldn't let Paige out of her sight. You had full trust in your girlfriend, without a doubt, but it was other girls you didn't trust. Knowing Paige's attractiveness and the constant flirtation she encountered throughout her life, you understood she might not always notice when a bitch wanted to fuck, leaving an opportunity for other girls to take advantage of the situation. Spurred on by the alcohol, you staggered to your feet and clumsily balanced on the chair you had just vacated. "Where is she?" you slurred.

"Over there," Aubrey's girlfriend pointed.

You spun back around, irritation evident on your face. "Oh, hell no," you spat, contemplating. "Should I go? Imma go!"

"Don't do it, girl!" your friends called out, but it was too late. Determined, you marched over to Paige, who was seated on the couch beside another girl, chatting and laughing, the girl's hand casually resting on her shoulder as she spoke.

There was absolutely no reason for her hand to be on your girlfriend. You were gonna crash-out.

"Paigeyyy!" you exclaimed, drawing most eyes in the party to you. "What... are you... doingg, babe?"

Paige smiled at you and exchanged words with the girl beside her, pointing in your direction. However, as you approached, her smile faltered, turning forced. You hovered over your girlfriend's form, pouting down at her. "Fix your face," she murmured softly as her hands found yours, holding them tightly. Your eyes darted towards the company Paige was keeping, silently hoping that after her subtle request to fix your expression went unheeded, she'd catch the hint as you focused on the source of your discomfort. "O-uhh, babe, this is Holly. She's my high school coach's daughter," Paige explained.

You smirked, subtly digging at her. "You're breaking a cardinal rule, Paige. Didn't they say the coach's daughter was off-limits?"

Holly's response hit a nerve, even more so if you were sober. "Well, that was back in the day," she said, still grinning politely.

You smiled, amplifying yours to mimic hers as you sat down. Not in-between them, however. You swiftly settled into Paige's lap, feeling her hands involuntarily wrapping around your waist, since she was still holding your hands before you sat. "So it's changed now, Holly? You're one for bending the rules?" you pressed. "When a boundary isn't visible, breaking it becomes effortless," she smoothly retorted, a subtle dig that undoubtedly rankled you, adding fuel to the fire of your annoyance. "Well, Holly, I'm right fucking here," you asserted firmly, the intensity of your words conveying both defiance and a challenge to her audacious remark. "Safe you made it in time. It was like I had a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode," Holly remarked, subtly implying that any further delay might have jeopardized your relationship.

Before you could speak, Paige intervened, diffusing the tension as she spoke up, "So, guys. Who can forget that buzzer-beater from last year's championship?" As Holly began to yap, you couldn't help but stir in Paige's lap. Your girlfriend always looked majestic, but especially now, under the spell of alcohol. You rocked your hips forward, feeling the stirrings of arousal. You were now horny. And while tipsy and horny, if there was one thing you didn't care to respect was the conversation. So, while Paige was mid-sentence, you turned and began to make out with her, your desire overriding any concern for the topic at hand. Paige kissed back at first, but with your chest pressed against her, she couldn't resist allowing a hand to brush against it, stroking your hardened nipples in the process. When she noticed your arousal, she pulled away slightly and whispered sensually, "We'll continue this later," before unashamedly turning back to Holly, seamlessly returning to the conversation.

Later? You were a wreck. If somebody who wasn't already in the loop with all the others had been at the party, they'd surely be filming this, and you'd be looking insane. Your drunken antics drew a bemused smile from Paige as you pressed your lips to her jaw while she tried to speak, your warm breath giving her chills. She gently tried to steer your body away, to steady your hips, but you had other plans.

It was as if you had forgotten you weren't in the privacy of your own home as your hand moved to your own chest, intending to let your tits spill from your top before Paige stopped you, concealing your intent with a quick, "Wardrobe malfunction?"

At her words, you remembered she had lips, and kissed them before whispering, "Want them off," into her ear, "Want your mouth on them." Her mouth watered as her fingers helped you fix said wardrobe malfunction, giving her an excuse to marvel at your hardened nipples through your dress, begging to be sucked. With a playful glint in her eye, Paige allowed herself to be swept away by the moment, ghosting her hands over them and eliciting a hushed whine from your lips. Reveling in the sensation of your bodies pressing together, the allure of the party gradually faded. Soon, she found herself leading you home, your fingers intertwined as you stumbled through the door, eager to continue the intimacy in the privacy of your own space. Once inside, the air crackled with electricity as Paige pulled you close, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. Your hands roamed eagerly over each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of exposed skin with fervent desire. "You know, I'm starting to hate Holly," you muttered against Paige's lips, jealousy prominent in your tone.

Paige leaned in, pleased, as she whispered, "Well, jealousy looks sexy on you, babe." Clothes were discarded in a frenzy of lust, and Paige found herself above you on the bed with her lips trailing a path of wet kisses down your neck and chest. With tender care, she teased your hardened nipples, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

Her hand trailed lower, down the curve of your stomach, before finally finding its destination between your thighs. With gentle strokes, she teased your clit, reveling in the slick wetness that greeted her touch. She brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean with a sinful groan before plunging them back into your eager cunt.

Deftly, Paige slipped a finger inside you, marveling at the way you clenched around her in response. But she wasn't content to simply watch from the sidelines. Leaning down, she captured your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue dancing with yours as she devoured you whole.

With hunger in her actions, touch, and eyes, she descended lower, trailing kisses along your thighs before finally finding her destination. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted your essence, savoring the sweet nectar that flowed from your core. With each stroke of her tongue, she brought you closer to the edge, her fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over. "More?" she asked, her voice breathy and gravelly, and you nodded eagerly from above her. "Please," you whispered, breaths catching in your throat. She smirked up at you. "Fuck, you're a slut." she moaned, pupils dilated as she arched her back, pressing her mouth flush against your pussy, closer, for a more precise to-the-clit angle. When you nod, "I am, mommy," you watch hazily as she indulges in you, her tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path from your clit down to your folds repetitively. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Your body trembling with pleasure, Paige knew that she had finally proven herself to you. She was the only one who could satisfy your deepest desires. She wanted to be the only one. For her to eat you like this, so unapologetically, it'd stole all those seeds of doubt from your mind that Holly had planted. "Wanna eat this pussy every day," she speaks tightly against your pussy, so deep in your folds, and your eyebrows furrow at the slight pinch of her teeth against your clit. But she swiftly distracts you by recycling the saliva and wetness on her lips, spitting onto you, further soaking your already dripping cunt. The feeling of being soaked, then getting lapped up like a dog drinking water, was making your head spin. You grabbed your tits, squeezing them like your own personal stress balls, and the sight caused Paige to moan. "Play with them like that, ma, fuck." she groaned, her fingers pumping into you ridiculously nice, the perfect tempo to match her tongue work.

Your toes curled. "M' gonna—"

She nodded like, "I know," and watched as your body writhed, surrendering to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Paige, please don't stop. You're amazing, oh shit," you moaned.

She didn't. Not for a second did she quit eating you like her life depended on it, and you cried out in pleasure until the moment you released all over her face and fingers, painting her in your cum. Your stomach contracted as she kept fucking her fingers inside you, pushing it all out. Not even a second later, she had turned you over on your stomach and whispered in your ear, "Looks like I need to show you your place again, don't I?" It might have been the alcohol in your system, but you swore you had never been this horny for anything or anybody before. There you were, sprawled out on Paige's bed, your legs spread apart with her in between them, to your utter dismay, the blonde doing absolutely nothing. You felt like you were about to burst as you nodded your head vigorously, turning back over to give her your puppy eyes. "Want it, baby," you whispered urgently.

She pressed herself flush into your body, her tongue eagerly exploring your wet lips, probing its way into your mouth as you whimpered desperately. Allowing you to speak, her tongue trailed up your neck, to your breasts, and as she sucked your tits gently, you whined. "Wanted this all night." "Please..." you pleaded, voice thick with need, "Please, Paige, don't make me wait any longer," begging for what you knew was merely inches away from your pussy, tucked away. Her finger, previously servicing you, found its way into your mouth, and she pushed the long digit into the warmth repeatedly, teasingly fucking your throat as you eagerly sucked and moaned around it, savoring the taste of your own arousal. It was so hard not to give in when you looked this way—just so fucked out and slutty, when nothing had even really happened yet. Breaking face, she pressed her lips against yours, and your tongues danced together in a manner that made you think Paige was genuinely trying to receive and keep your taste, eat you alive. By each passing moment, your bodies found themselves closer than before, deepening the connection between you involuntarily.

It was half-intimate and half-raw, and it felt all the way good. Way too good. When you finally felt the thick, hard piece of plastic against your pussy, you sighed into the kiss, tilting your head back as Paige began to grind it against you. Her hand, previously holding your thigh and pressing you into the mattress, trailed down your body with deliberate intent, settling at your hip. You tried to squirm away from the feeling below you both, but she effortlessly held you there, a showcase of her immense strength that only turned you on even harder. She continued to rut her hips against you relentlessly, dragging the member up and down repeatedly with slow, sharp thrusts of her talented hips. She groaned, the dildo on the other end vibrating, squeezing and fucking sequencly against her wet, warm, tight walls. "Feel that?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" It was all euphoria—you were too spent to reply, but you managed to murmur, "Inside," Paige held the base of it with her hand, groaning your name as she watched your pussy slowly swallow it all in with her piercing blue eyes. "Look how that just stretched you out, ma, feel it," she moaned, pumping into you so hard your entire body rocked, and causing the dildo to slide past her G-spot precisely, coaxing a throaty breath from her.

All you wanted was to please her. It meant good for you in the end. She was in awe watching your incredibly tight cunt be stretched that wide, so you complied, reaching your hand down and feeling it with shaky hands. "Fuck," you gasped, "So big, baby, god." She smirked down at you. "Play with your clit, baby, let me watch you." and like a puppet, your hand falls to between your legs, rubbing yourself hastily. You're still sensitive from your last orgasm, but you keep going, the deepness of Paige's cock feeling like a punch and stab to your guts each time she plows down. But the pressure inside you and the one you delicately place upon your clit feel so, so good that despite the overcapacity, you find your other hand coming to her back, then to her ass, squeezing it as you plead, "Don't stop!" You're crying now, tears staining your cheeks, and all it takes is for Paige to really look at your face, seeing how hard you're working for her right now before the tension begins to mount. She tries to hold out, but everywhere she tries to look makes it worse. Her head dips low to avoid your face, and you're sluttily playing with your clit. At your mid-section, your tits are bouncing in her face. And she knows if she looks at you one more time, it's over. Her body falters, and she lays on you as she fucks into you so carefree of anything in the world. You cry out whinily as you feel her deeper, the tip placing kisses to your cervix, and her weight on your lower stomach pressing the bulge the strap makes DEEP.

"So good," you whimpered, clenching around her with each drag of her stroke against the depths of your body. "Take me, Paige, take all of me."

She loses it at that, growling out, "Open your mouth, sexy," and you stick your tongue out to meet a hot, thick glob of spit into it.

Without needing to be told, you swallow, knowing it's what she wants. Her impending orgasm is evident as she speaks, her voice filled with urgency. "Fuck, bae, I'm gonna cum. You gonna—" she waivers with a grunt, then continues, "you gonna let me cum in you?"

Your arousal allows her to penetrate you insanely deep, even though she shouldn't be able to on a regular, non-drunk sex having day. "Yeah," you moan, your body ablaze with desire, "fill me up."

The room falls silent, save for the embarrassing squelching sounds of your cunt. The sounds your pussy makes are just embarrassing. Like pure water being swished, and you grip her dick so tightly it burns momentarily when her stroke falters back, but it meets your guts again within no time, and all feels way too good again. Your pussy's grip on her tightens, your body craving every thrust she delivers. Paige's hand tightens around your neck, restricting your airflow as she fucks the life out of you. She is genuinely killing you. Stabs inside your cunt, hand around your neck, toned body weighing down on you — petite below her. She's relentless, her motions driving the familiar knot in your stomach to form, but this time, with a little something different about it that you just can't place your finger on. You want to be concerned on why your pre-orgasm phase feels this way, but with each thrust, you can't help but surrender further into the pleasure, neverminding it.

As your climax approaches, you're overwhelmed. Your eyes shut tightly, your world consumed by white light. When you feel it coming, you want to scream, but you can't. Before you know it, your body is involuntarily pushing, and pushing, and when the intensity stops, blending into an orgasm, you realize you've just squirted all over Paige.

She's realized long before you, apparently, because she's left cumming herself with moans and exclamations of, "Aw, fuck, baby, look at that."

You guys have no time to tell each other you're cumming; it's just wet, hot, and heavy, both of your releases coating the sheets and the both of you too. Paige collapses on you, and now you really can't breathe, so you have to use your remaining energy the squirt took to push her off, the strap exiting you with the most empty feeling ever. Your hand, still on your clit, feels all the cum, and you exhale sharply, shocked. Both of your bodies are drenched, covered in sweat.

And as you catch your breath, Paige rolls onto her side, looking at you with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in her eyes. "Is that attitude gone?" she asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

You meet her gaze, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If I say no, will you fuck me like that again?" you retort, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Paige chuckles, reaching out to pull you close to her. "Guess you'll just have to find out," she replies, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

When you guys draw back, you're panting as you confess, "I can't believe I just... squirted."

Paige raises an eyebrow, offended. "I can. You doubtin' me?"

You've essentially been fucked back into sobriety and know not to test her. "Absolutely not," you assure her, and she relaxes at that. "You're gonna be hella sore tomorrow morning," she teases, "I literally went swimming in that pussy, deadass."

You smack her gently. "Stoppp," you protest.

She grins. "Ion feel bad tho. Maybe next time you get an attitude, you'll think about how dumb I just fucked you." And Paige Bueckers is absolutely fucking right. You will. Attitude or not.

MASTERLIST

A/N: might be some errors in posting and stuff!! i'll correct it later i'm rly tired now lol.

[earlysunshines]

love at your door

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you wake up on the couch to find out that it’s actually not your couch and oh my god why is your hot neighbor sitting across from you watching tv???

warnings: sana is a FLIRT ; reader is a loser ; sana is a losersexual ; pacing is iffy but it’s bc i wanted it to be short ; alcohol ; anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread so prob spelling errors idk i wrote most on my phone

a/n: based off the time i got drunk and fell asleep in the wrong room… anyways my love for sana will NEVER DIE guess who’s BACK.

you wake up with a groan, face smushed against a cushion that's definitely not yours, and the first thing that hits you—aside from the dull pounding in your head—is the faint sound of a tv playing in the background. 

slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. you finally realize you’re not in your room, and the couch you're sprawled out on… also not yours.

you sit up too quickly and regret it immediately, head spinning, the room around you momentarily blurred. but then it sharpens, and your heart nearly stops when you spot her. sana, your neighbor—your gorgeous, gorgeous neighbor that you’ve been eyeing since you moved in—sitting across from you on her armchair, completely unbothered with her legs tucked underneath her, eyes fixed on the tv but clearly aware you’re awake now. 

she’s holding a ceramic mug in one hand, and for some reason, that little detail makes everything so much worse.

because—how did you end up here?

you glance down at yourself and, of course, you’re still in your luigi costume from last night. the tight green tank top clings to you under the denim overalls (one strap purposely loose and falling off your shoulder because you’re desperate for attention in these trying times) which you had decided to wear in some ill-fated attempt to look “hot” while still committing to the theme. you had succeeded, at least you think, judging from the compliments you vaguely remember through the drunken haze of the halloween party. but now, under sana’s gaze, you suddenly feel a lot less confident about it.

“jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together what happened. “what—”

“morning sleepy,” sana says, finally looking over at you, lips curling into a small, amused smile. “you came stumbling in after the party. i figured it was safer to let you crash here than send you back to your place like that.”

this has to be a nightmare.

her voice is casual, like this isn’t completely mortifying for you. like this isn’t the exact scenario your sleep-deprived, engineering-major brain has dreamed up in countless fleeting moments when you’ve caught glimpses of her in the hallways (well, you figured you’d be in a less embarassing scene) but now it’s real, and your heart is thudding painfully loud in your chest, and you can’t decide if you want to disappear or if you never want to leave.

(the first option might be the smartest)

you clear your throat, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your hands. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean to crash here like that. i must’ve been drunk out of my mind i— fuck, nayeon, that bitch… im sorry my friends they’re—“

“don’t worry about it,” she waves off your apology, taking a sip from her mug, her gaze briefly dipping down to your outfit before flicking back to your face. “i never knew luigi could look this good.” she adds, a smirk playing on her face that renders you weak.

you feel heat rise to your face instantly, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just the aftermath of all the alcohol you consumed last night. her words hang in the air, teasing, but there’s something else in her tone that sends a jolt through you. something that makes you suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you feel, the snug fit of the tank top and the way her eyes had lingered on your exposed skin just for a second.

“uh—” you start, but your voice comes out strained, so you clear your throat again, scrambling for a response. “thank you…?”

she grins at your awkwardness, a soft, almost mischievous smile that only adds to the rising tension in the room. “you’re welcome.”

you force a laugh, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes your skin tingle. “right, well… thanks for, uh, taking care of me. and not letting me do something even more embarrassing.”

“more embarrassing than this?” sana raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. she gestures toward your outfit with a nod, and you can’t help but huff a laugh this time, the tension breaking just a little.

“point taken,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the couch to stand, only for a wave of dizziness to hit. sana’s on her feet in a second, steadying you with a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm.

“easy,” she murmurs, and you freeze, suddenly way too aware of how close she is. her hand lingers just a second too long, and when she finally lets go, you feel like you can breathe again—but it doesn’t stop your pulse from racing.

her eyes dart down to the base of your neck and the intensity of her gaze is amplified.

“quite a hickey, huh?”

“what?” you had to be drunk drunk. you can’t recall anything about kissing girls, you’re not the type to be like that when under the influence. “that’s— i can’t even remember.”

“had fun, didn’t you?” sana looks back into your eyes, making you shrink despite her smaller frame. you feel sorry, you want to apologize for something you can’t even remember—you have no clue why. she’s just your neighbor. she’s the neighbor down the hall that greeted you kindly when you had moved in to town. the same neighbor that you had to blink multiple times at before realizing she’s not a fairytale princess that’s creeped out of the books.

you glance at the door, needing an escape, even though a very large part of you doesn’t want to leave just yet. but standing in her living room in yesterday’s clothes with your head still buzzing is doing nothing for your nerves.

“i should, uh, probably go,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the door.

sana steps back, giving you space, but her expression shifts into something playful as she watches you. “right. but hey—if you ever need a place to crash again, my couch is always open.”

you blink, not sure if she’s joking or if there’s more to that offer. but before you can overthink it, you nod, mumbling a quick, “thanks, i’ll keep that in mind,” before heading for the door.

and just as you’re about to step out, sana calls after you, her voice teasing, warm. “hey, luigi.”

you pause, turning to look at her.

she leans casually against the doorframe, eyes glinting with that same playfulness, and she gives you a slow, once-over before her lips curve into a smirk. “seriously. never knew luigi could be this hot.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and all you can do is laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, before quickly slipping out the door, your mind buzzing as you head back to your place.

sana always caught your eye, but now… now you’re pretty sure you’re never going to stop thinking about her.

—

the whole day you’re quite literally losing your mind. as soon as you crash onto your bed when you get back home, you cringe at how much of an idiot you are, and at the fact that you accepted every single drink handed to you by nayeon.

and then the next day, you’re still replaying the entire morning in your head—how sana’s words lingered, the way her eyes had flickered over you with that teasing smile. it’s been driving you to distraction all day. you couldn’t focus during class, barely heard a word your professor said, and by the time your last lecture ends, you’ve come to a decision.

you’re going to do something about it.

(you’re undeniably an idiot, but everyone in your circle knows that anyway.)

so after class, you stop by the small flower shop near campus. it’s not something you’d typically do—flowers and chocolate, that’s so cliché, right? but somehow it feels like the right move. sana had caught you completely off guard yesterday, and maybe it’s time you do the same.

you have a small conversation with the florist, who recommends her favorite assortment of tulips. you don’t want to do too much, so you settle with yellow tulips, their petals delicate and bright. simple, but thoughtful (you hope).

next, you pick out a small box of chocolates, nothing fancy but enough to show you’ve put some real thought into this. because somehow, leaving things the way they were feels unfinished.

you can’t possibly just leave it like that, you can’t have the only real memory and meaningful interaction between you and sana consist of you flat out drunk and at a loss for words.

you’re already a loser as it is, and especially when sana is around—whether that’s when you two both end up at the mailbox together, with you losing the ability to speak when she simply smiles and compliments you; and also the simple greetings when you two arrive at around the same time on wednesday’s and thursdays (not that you take note of it—you definitely do). 

when you get home, you scribble out a short note on a small card:

hi sana,  

thanks for letting me crash on your couch yesterday. i’m really, really sorry. 

here’s a little something as a thank you. hope you like tulips.

and chocolate.

– luigi 

you read it over twice, fighting the nervous energy bubbling up inside you. it’s playful, casual, but maybe—hopefully—it’ll make her smile. you take the flowers, chocolates, and the note, placing everything neatly in a small brown paper bag before heading down the hall.

when you reach her doorstep, your heart is pounding. you place the bag gently on the ground, adjusting the flowers one last time so they look perfect. then, you take a deep breath and knock, firm but quick, before spinning on your heel and rushing back to your own place.

you barely make it through the door before the nerves fully hit. your heart races, and you lean back against the door, letting out a heavy breath. what if she doesn’t like it? what if it’s too much?

but before your thoughts spiral too far, you hear the faint sound of her door opening down the hall, followed by the quiet shuffle of her picking up the bag.

there’s silence for a bit before you hear the door close again, earning a sigh of relief.

if your friends were to find out literally everything that had happened in the span of less than forty-eight hours, they’d tease you until you had to move out again.

—

the next night, you’re at your desk, buried in the engineering assignment youve been given that same day. something about fluid dynamics, a dense problem set that has you scribbling equations and checking graphs on your laptop. it’s not exactly easy to focus—your mind keeps wandering back to sana, the flowers, the chocolates, and really just everything about her. every time you think about her, a small smile tugs at your lips, despite the headache that’s building from the workload.

then, out of nowhere, you hear a knock at the door.

you blink, glancing at the clock. you’re not expecting anyone, and for a second, you wonder if you imagined it. but when the knock repeats, you push your chair back, setting aside your notes. still a little distracted by the assignment, you take your time getting up, stretching briefly before finally heading to the door.

when you open it, there’s no one there. just silence, the hallway empty. but as you glance down, you spot something on the floor—a folded piece of paper. your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but grin as you bend down to pick it up, already knowing who it’s from.

you unfold the note, and sana’s handwriting greets you:

so, you’re kinda cute even in that luigi costume—i couldn’t stop thinking about you

(i think you’re cute in uniform and not) 

though i have to ask—what’s with the hickey? did luigi have a little too much fun?  ;)

anyway, i liked the flowers. i liked the chocolates too. 

but i think i like the person giving them more.

you should come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. i mean, you weren’t that shy the other night ;)  

– sana <3

your face heats up instantly as you read the hickey line, hand instinctively reaching to touch your neck. there’s no way, right? you don’t remember—

then it hits you. fuck. it wasn’t a hickey. nayeon had bullied you about how you ran into something that night at her party, some broom? wall? maybe momo elbowed you? or something. you’re not the type to just fuck random girls, not when you’re loyal to your neighbor that you utter maybe three sentences a week to if you’re lucky. but the thought of what had happened that night isn’t even important because now your mind’s racing, thinking about how sana’s teasing you. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you all giddy and nervous.

you reread the note, feeling that familiar nervous excitement grow. come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. your pulse picks up. there’s no way you’re saying no to that.

without bothering to change out of your hoodie and sweats, you grab your keys, locking the door behind you as you head down the hall. your heart’s still racing, and your mind’s swirling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you stop in front of sana’s door.

when she opens it, she’s standing there with that same playful smirk—sultry, seductive, and somehow so cute at the same time. her eyes gleam like she already knows exactly what’s going through your mind. 

"took you long enough," she says, stepping aside to let you in, her voice warm, teasing. "for a second, i thought you’d be too shy to show up."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head as you walk inside, glancing around her apartment again. “i’m– i’m not.” it sounds unconvincing, but the woman in front of you thinks it’s adorable.

she quirks a brow, then smiles at that, closing the door behind you. "good to know." she says, handing you a small glass of wine and suddenly everything is a little bit too intimate. 

the two of you end up sitting on her couch, the tv still softly playing in the background like it had been the other morning. the conversation flows easily—there’s that natural comfort between you now, even with the teasing tension that lingers under the surface.

she talks about herself and you talk about yourself too, piquing both your interests. small talk grows into something bigger and you two enjoy the newfound information you’re both learning about each other. you’re breaking the ice, maybe easing into the cold waters in comparison to splashing into it.

“so, about that hickey,” she says, leaning back into the couch, her grin widening as she glances pointedly at your neck. her leg crosses over the other and she holds the glass in her hand near her lips, a small smirk tugging at one corner. “i’m just saying, it looks a little suspicious.”

you roll your eyes, your face heating up again. “it’s not a hickey. i swear.”

“uh-huh,” she teases, clearly not letting it go. “sure it’s not.”

“apparently i hit a broom or wall—something like that.” you shake your head, laughing lightly, but there’s an undeniable pull between you two. 

the way she looks at you, the way her smile lingers a little too long, and the way her knee brushes against yours every now and then—you have to hold yourself back from saying and doing a lot of things. it’s in the way her voice lowers when she speaks, soft and reeling.

you spend the next hour just talking, laughing, sharing random stories about classes, her teasing you about your engineering homework, and you teasing her back about her terrible taste in tv shows. every time she smiles or laughs, it feels like a small victory, something you want to keep chasing. and every time you speak her eyes are in deep contact with yours, spiking your heartrate without fail.

eventually, the conversation lulls, and there’s a moment of quiet where she looks at you, her eyes softening just slightly. “you know,” she murmurs, “i’m really glad you came over. this… was nice.”

“yeah,” you say, smiling back, your heart racing in your chest. “it was.”

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says before sipping on her white wine, “but i’m not a chaser.”

“is that right?”

“unless you count me responding to your apology, then yes.”

you laugh, setting the empty glass down. 

“well,” you begin, biting your lip. “i like to pursue.”

“quite forward isn’t it?”

“you invited me over for wine, it doesn’t get more forward than what you’ve brought to the table.”

“is that so?” sana hums, tilting her head. she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “i think it can get more forward.”

your breath hitches in the slightest and you can tell sana’s noticed when she lets out that signature chuckle. 

“well, i think it’s time to end the night. you were working on assignments prior, no?” you frown at the suggestion.

“i— yeah, you’re right.” 

there’s a knowing smile on her lips, but you ignore it and stand up with her as she walks you to her door. 

“i had a great time pretty girl,” she puts her hand on your forearm while saying it, her touch burning your skin. “hopefully we can be much more forward next time.”

you laugh. “i like the sound of that.”

“mhm, goodnight.” she says, grinning at you before meekly closing her door.

you purse your lips before walking down the hall and reaching your door. your hand lingers on the doorknob before you turn it and head in, feeling a sense of regret.

…

sana hears a knock at her door ten minutes later, turning off the sink and drying her hands before walking over to see what’s up. 

the moment the door opens and sana sees you standing there, the look on her face is priceless.

“what—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused, but before she can finish, you step forward, your hand reaching out to grab her forearm gently. you pull her just a little closer, your heart pounding as you look at her.

“i want to be more forward,” you admit, voice low, the question hanging in the space between you.

for a second, she just stares at you, wide-eyed, before a soft laugh escapes her. she gets it now. “oh, we’re moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “take me out to dinner.”

you grin, and she hesitates for a beat, but then she nods, and it’s enough—enough to send your pulse racing, enough for you to lean in. before you can close the distance, though, her hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing the base of your neck, and you feel her shiver as she touches you.

“you say that like,” you pause, observing the surprise and allure in her features. “like you didn’t eye-fuck me the other night.”

her cheeks flush as her fingers linger on your skin, and you catch the way she bites her lip, trying to hide her own smile. you don’t wait any longer.

you lean in and meet her lips with yours, melting into it just as she does. 

it starts soft, just a gentle press of your lips against hers, but it quickly deepens as sana lets out a quiet, surprised sound that turns into something more—something she’s clearly enjoying a little too much. her hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the way she kisses you back sends a thrill through you.

before you know it, she’s dragging you inside, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other guiding you back toward the couch. the door closes behind you, but you barely notice, too focused on the way her lips move against yours.

when you finally pull back for air, she’s breathless, grinning like she’s just won something. “you should’ve been this forward earlier,” she teases, her thumb brushing against the side of your neck.

“yeah?” you ask, a little breathless yourself, but you can’t stop smiling.

“yeah,” she murmurs, eyes flickering down to your lips before she leans in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. sana is a great kisser, the type of kisser that leaves you wanting more and more. after a moment, she pulls back, just enough to whisper, “maybe you should stay a little longer.”

you can’t help but laugh softly. “you sure you can handle that?”

“please,” she says, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous look. “you weren’t that shy the other night.”

“well i was drunk and—“

before you can even finish your response, she’s kissing you again, and this time, you’re more than happy to let her pull you even closer.

[starrydragoness]

Content: Jiyan x F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI! More under the cut

Content: soft sex, creampie, cockwarming, pretty vanilla tbh, live laugh love dragon man, wrote this sleep deprived and didn't proof read, so if there are any grammar errors I'll fix them later, trust.

“Come up here-” 

Jiyan panted, breathy words falling from his lips with effort as he fought down soft sounds of pleasure as he grinded his hips into yours. His hand cups around your nape and brings you into his lips, reddened and bruised as they were - he needed more, more of you, more of your taste and touch and love. The unending well of need is insatiable, always open to welcome you in and swallow you whole, cradling you against his chest.

A thin sheen of sweat sits on top of his skin, his chest rising rapidly with each short breath, and you slowly squirm, pushing his shoulders down so he is now laying on his back and you throw one leg over his hip, effectively straddling him. From here, you have quite the sight of the General of the Midnight Rangers, lying beneath you, and so pliant to your affections, but most importantly - he is your dear husband, one you missed too much and all of that love is coming to boil over at this very moment. 

You lean down, kissing across his collarbone, climbing your way up to his neck and you can feel him suck in a breath as you graze your teeth across his pulse point. Your teeth leave faint little red marks across his pale skin, lips sucking here and there until purple blooms in soft petals. His hands are pawing at your sides, feeling your warm flesh in his palms before he claws down at your hips, pushing you  down against his length that is stuck between your two naked bodies, your naked cunt grinding against it. It feels like it has been ages since you began teasing and feeling one another up, taking off clothing, piece by piece until both of you were desperate for more and more.

“Love- hah.. “ Jiyan curls his fingers into your hips, his head thrown back onto the messy bed with covers strewn about.  “Let me feel you- no more teasing” he whispers into your ear and you couldn’t agree more. Sitting upright you gaze into those eyes of molten gold, looking up at you as if you were the work of finest marble and divinity. Embodiment of beauty and peace.

Jiyan’s lips parted slightly, eyes glued to yours until your line of sight led him down to your wet hole. He swallows the lump in his throat as you take his shaft in your hand, pushing yourself up to your knees before guiding his tip to your hole, all while his hands anxiously massage up and down the  sides of your thighs, anticipating eating him up alive. And once you finally sink down his eyes roll back into his head, eyes fluttering shut as he feels your warm walls squeezing him and welcoming him in. A guttural moan rumbles through his throat and he can’t help but buck into you, and the next thrust has your hands sprawled ontop of his chest, searching for stability as he began to fuck himself into you.

He was nothing if not careful, attentive, he still wanted to appreciate you and show you how much he has missed you too, yet as both of you began to lose yourselves in carnal desires, he found himself getting rougher. 

Each thrust had your tits bouncing, right in his face. Your pretty and glazed eyes looking down at him with all adoration one could hold, and your flushed  face and reddened lips threw him in a daze. He was hypnotized. Enarmored.

“My love- you feel so good, you have n-no idea how much I missed you” he groaned  after pushing himself into you to the hilt, simultaneously pulling you down and for a moment he went still, savoring the fluttering of your walls around him. You moaned his name, lust clouding not only your vision but your thoughts as well. So drunk on him.

One of his hands travels up your sides leaving warmth in its wake, trailing all the way up to your shoulder and then down to cup one of your hands in his, pulling it up, towards his lips until he could kiss your palm. He ruts into you all the while, another lingering kiss following the first one before his teeth nip at the inside of your wrist. 

You can feel your insides burning, slick oozing out of your hole and coating his shaft with each thrust. You can feel him so deep within that it drives you mad, making you cry out for him. And he hears you loud and clear, half lidded eyes drinking you in like the finest liquor. 

The hand that held yours flew down to where your bodies joined together, finding your clit and rubbing it in the rhythm of your thrusts, sending electric shocks up your core, all through your spine and up to your shoulders and down to your toes. Whining you squirm on top of him, both of you losing your rhythm as the tension in your bellies threatens to burst.

“Mmm- I’m so close, Jiyan” you mewled, and goodness, your voice alone was enough to make him chase that high with even more fervor. 

“I know, love, I know- come with me..hah.. look at me. Oh, how beautiful you are-” he muses out loud, a flicker of a smile lighting up his lustful eyes as pounds into you from below, pushing moan after moan out of you, making you sing for him.

Your orgasm blinds you, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins as your muscles seized and your walls spasmed as Jiyan filled your greedy hole, spurting deep within you until he had nothing more to give. His face became more red before he released a throaty groan, his own muscles finally slacking from the intense orgasm, just in time to wrap his arms around you after you collapsed onto his chest. His cock remained buried within you even as it grew soft, comforted by the heat and slick. 

The two of you panted, working slowly but desperately to catch your breath. His calloused hands traced up and your naked back,  holding you close to him. 

“I love you.. mm.. I love you so much” you coo at him, picking your head up only to place several kisses along his jaw before kissing his sweet lips. A kiss he gladly returns despite the faint burning in his lungs. “I love you too, dearest” he breathed back,  watching you settle your head against his chest, hearing the quick drumming of his heart. 

Ⓒ starrydragoness. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Lightly possessive!reader x Logan. I wanna see him flustered about it too >.< Could do a 5+1? I adore those <3

Ideas:

hand on thigh

hand on waist

possessive/pointed kiss in front of someone trying to hit on him (save him!)

put space between him and another person (again, that was flirting with him)

👏stand👏up👏for👏this👏man👏

Okaythankyoumightcomebackbyeeeee

-🌸👸

Okay I loved this! I did a 4+1 instead of a 5+1 (I ran out of ideas) I hope that's okay! Request for Logan are open! Lmk if you want to be added to Logan's taglist!

A/N: The reader has a mutation where they can yell really loud and like shatter glass and stuff lol

1. Hand on his thigh:

It was your annual date night, and you decided to just do casual this week. The two of you sat next to each other in the booth, you were looking over the menu and Logan was watching the hockey game that was playing on one of the TVs. Since he was distracted, he didn't notice the waitress coming over to take the order, you leaned over to order more clearly since the music was loud and to steady yourself you ended up putting your right hand on his upper thigh without even thinking. As you ordered his brain malfunctioned. His eyes widened slightly, a faint blush dusted his cheeks, and he swears his ears started ringing. All he could think about was how close your hand was to his - "Oh, thank you so much! Lo, sweetheart what do you want?" He finally snapped out of it, he looked over at you and then the waitress before clearing his throat and ordering his food.

2. Arms around his waist: (I had two ideas, so I just wrote both)

You found Logan standing by the back door watching a group of students practice their hand and eye coordination skills. You'd been looking for him all morning, he sneaked out of bed before you could even get up and you decided to sneak up on him. Well sneak up on him as much as you can sneak up on someone with super senses.

He was so focused on the students that he jumped at the feeling of smaller arms wrapping around his waist. He looked down and relaxed into your arms when he noticed your hands, "Hi princess" he muttered and focused back on the students as he held your arms in place. The two of you stood there for a few minutes in quiet, he rubbed your arms, softly trailing his fingers up and down your skin. He was so relaxed that he nearly forgot that he was supposed to be watching the kids train until someone started yelling that their nose is broken. "Oh fuck" He muttered and left your hold to go check on the kid.

2.5 Arms around his waist:

He was half asleep standing in front of the coffee pot, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. He had just rolled out of bed, hair still all over the place, nothing but sweats on. Fuck is that not the best sight to see first thing in the morning.

You walked up to him and leaned up against him, pressing your chest against his back and wrapped one of your arms around his waist to steady yourself as you grab your favorite mug from the top shelf. He has to bite back a whine feeling your chest press up against his back, feeling you against his skin makes flash backs of the night before flash before his eyes. You whisper in his ear "Morning handsome," before kissing his cheek. You get to steal the coffee pot from him and get the first cup of coffee while he is trying to recover from the kiss.

"G'mornin indeed darlin" He smiles and says groggy, drunk off the feeling you give him.

3. You stand up for him:

It was clear that he didn't see eye to eye with Scott all the time. Today the most recent argument was over the mission plans that Scott swears by and for some reason Logan's gut is telling him it was going to end badly.

"I'm telling you this is a mistake! It'll be a blood bath if you don't fix your shit plan" Logan growled as Scott tried to walk away from him. Logan grabbed Scott's arm and made him stay in the room; Scott yanked his arm out of his grasp. "This is the plan! There will be no changing it I know what I'm doing. My team will be safe, some of us protect our loved ones." He left before Logan could get another word in. Logan was ready to just give in, if Scott didn't want to believe him then it'd be blood on Summer's hands not his, but you tensed up after hearing what he said, and you couldn't drop it.

"How could he talk to you like that?!" You scream making Logan cringe slightly, he moves closer to you to try and calm you down, but you escape the room before he could get to you. Oh, fuck Logan sighed and left the room to go find you before you seriously hurt Scott. He heard glass shatter from how loud you were yelling at Scott, and he couldn't help but get flustered and hard knowing not only are you sticking up for him, but you're using your mutation for him too.

4. That's your man

The entire team wanted to go to a bar, and you thought there would be no harm in the trip. You were wrong.

There was this tiny blonde who tried to latch herself to Logan as soon as you guys walked through the door. Logan stayed close to you the entire night, but you separated yourself from him for five minutes to get him another whiskey and you another vodka cranberry. As you went back to the table you saw Logan alone with that little blonde and all of your teammates were out either playing pool or ordering food. Oh, fuck no you mutter to yourself as you stomped over to the table. You didn't care that a girl was flirting with your Logan, look at him. He's so pretty. You were mad because he clearly looked uncomfortable, and you had been there when he told her no the first three times.

"Hey barbie" You greeted her sarcastically as you handed Logan his whiskey, "Here you go baby" you say loud and clear as you sat in his lap. "Thank you darlin" he response with a smirk. He knows how you get when you feel extra possessive, he also knows you're going to get pouty because your attempts at leaving hickies on him will fail once again. He wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you on his lap and he takes a sip of his drink, enjoying the little show that your sarcasm will be giving him. However, the girl doesn't seem to take a hint, and he can see your jaw clenching more and more.

"Baby?" he asked quietly, growing concerned of the situation, "Let's just head home." Before he can tap your thighs to signal you to get up you glare at the woman and grab his dog tags making his eyes widen, he stumbles slightly as you pull him even closer, and he nearly moans against your lips as you kiss him with more passion than ever before.

When you pull away barbie is finally gone.

5. That's my girl

Logan has been looking for you all afternoon. It was finally a nice cool day, and he thought you would enjoy a walk to your favorite little cafe before the sun set but he couldn't find you. "Where the fuck is she? The mansion isn't that big!" He was quietly ranting to himself as he wandered around the property. He heard your laugh coming from one of the spare rooms and he couldn't stop the smile from growing.

'Oh, her laugh is amazing, if she's laughing that means she's smiling and if she's smiling it means she looks like she's glowing and-'

As he was thinking about you, he rounded the corner, and his smile dropped. Fucking Jean. A sharp glare graced his face as he watched the red head push hair away from your face, he knew you were working with her on a project and it's not that he didn't trust you, you were his everything. He didn't trust her with his everything though.

You looked over at the door and he watched your face light up when you saw him "Oh my handsome man!" You cheered and skipped over to him before wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and smirked when he saw Jean's face drop slightly. He kissed your head and asked you out on the little date he had originally planned, you squealed and told him to give you five minutes as you go grab one of his your jackets. He gives you a nod and a smile and watches you leave the room, when you are out of sight his smile drops and he goes back to glaring at Jean as he walks out of the room.

Taglist: @mahi-tamashi @100percentlazybonez @lanassmarty

@misscrissfemmefatle

[hiddenlife-manager]

Lando Norris x fem reader

cw… Oral, story ish, vagina, sex, condom, cumming in condom, aftercare, clit rubbing, slightly cocky lando, fuck buddies, and more

notepad… HAPPY NEW YEARS well kind of. It isn’t New years yet to me. I’m on EST but it is about to be in like five hours. I wrote this quickly as a thank you to all who support me. I know I have disappeared but I have a post coming up for that.

In a room full of absolute strangers, you were sitting in a corner, sipping some of the complimentary wine. The party was full of rich people flaunting their money, and here you were drinking wine and enjoying small talk. A party full of Formula One drivers all enjoyed each other's company for a good year of racing. Full of people congratulating the champion, Max Verstappen. Yet you were just a measly mechanic, someone who worked on the cars whenever the drivers worked out. You worked for Williams, a considerably smaller team but a good one.

You knew all the drivers by memory; it was expected, but you never worked during the days of racing. You were stuck in the garage on boring days, and here you are bored talking to millionaires. You were not like them; you couldn't understand them. So you got up and escaped to a hallway in a corner. You slid to the floor and continued to drink your glass of free wine.

Suddenly, a man tripped over your legs, and you set the wine glass down and looked at who it was. Lando Norris, you took a deep breath.

"Sorry about that." You said this to him and sighed. "I would offer you a hand, but I'm on the floor already." He chuckled and nodded.

"It is fine." He fixed himself up and looked at you. "Took my spot, I see." He let out another laugh and sat up, staring at you. "Getting away from the rich people I see." You nodded and sipped your wine. "If I wasn't like them, I would do the same, but I got away from them for another reason."

"Why is that?" You raised the glass up to your lips and tilted your head, looking at him.

"Everyone is comparing themselves and boasting about their skills. I like doing that, don't get me wrong, but I am too drunk to deal with it. Don't tell anyone that, though I stated I didn't like alcohol before." You chuckled, looking down at your hands, and shrugged.

"Your secret is kept with me."

You were on his hotel bed, kissing him as you began to unbutton his shirt. You two were desperate for each other. Who would have known you and one of the most popular stars in the grid were about to have sex.

"This is kept between us." You cried out as he bit your neck, sucking on it. He groaned as he removed his expensive pants and threw away his belt, and you nodded. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a condom. You two had to be one with each other; there was no need for foreplay.

He pushed up your dress and used his knee to spread your legs open. Noticing you were wearing a lacy pair of panties he groaned. He opened the condom and put it on. He bent down to your level, removing your panties with his teeth, and was right there at your leaking entrance. He placed his tongue on your clit sucking at it as he pulled moans from you.

"So perfect." He praised you, and from the bottom of your lips and up to your clit he licked your pussy and you gripped the sheets and wrapped your legs around his head. His hands were on your thighs, and he pushed them open. His cock was so hard, he needed to be inside you. So he pulled you towards him by your legs, and he olaced his cock at your entrance.

"I hope you don't mind." He joked as he shoved himself into you, causing your body to slightly bounce. He placed one hand on your clothed breast and the other on your clit. His thumb circled around your clit causing your pussy to clench on his cock. He began to go back and forth as you felt the coldness of the lube that came with the condom.

"So good." You cried, gripping his one hand that held your clothed breast. He went back and forth, and the hotel room began to get steamy. You gasped out, moaning, while Lando moaned in a higher pitch, but it sounded like heaven. He loved how your face contoured into a face of pure pleasure.

"I'm your favorite millionaire now." He gloated as you nodded, unable to let out any noise but moans. Your body was sinful, and the lewd sounds of your wet pussy echoed in the room as he went in and out of you. He loved it, and he felt himself get so close. You felt so perfect for him. He found pleasure in how you didn't want anyone to know about what was happening right now. Yet you were so loud, he was sure the whole hotel floor could hear you and him.

He kept his thumb pressed against your clit and there he rubbed it in circles, and instead of moans he heard sharp gasos come from you. He knew you were close and kept his perfect pace, knowing how to treat you. In minutes, you unraveled in his very arms, shaking as your legs shook from the sudden orgasm. He continued to thrust, hearing you cry out louder. He felt you tighten, and right then he pulled out and rubbed his cock up and down, cumming in his condom.

You two caught your breath as Lando got off the hotel bed and removed his condom far from your exposed body. He grabbed a towel and wiped his body off. He grabbed a fresh one and walked over to you on the bed.

"I got you a warm towel." He climbed back on the bed and began wiping you; he was chuckling. "I know we said this once, but how about we continued this?" He asked, and you looked at him. You sat down, grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him.

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (1)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, Age Gap!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 17.4k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), talks of a bad car accident, talks of drunk driving (please drinking responsibly), more than likely wrong swimming terms and poor understanding of how the Olympics actually works (I did so much research, pls be nice to me lol), strong language, lots of mental health discussions, reader has mommy and daddy issues, Older reader, Jimin is a complete sweetie, the tamest chapter of them all A/N: Well, well, well, look who came back. I first wrote Waterlog back in 2021, and while I enjoy the premise, I hate the finished product. I wanted to go back and edit/fix what I originally had, but when I tried it became so different, I was better off rewriting the entire thing. I hope you guys like this mini-series. If you would like to read the original go to my blog archive. Thank you for reading!

masterlist || next || playlist

Staring at the pool, I managed to calm myself with relative ease. Jin had been right, physical therapy had made things easier. The water glistened prettily in the lights, and I waited with bated breath for my trainer to come in. 

Emery was a sweet guy, pretty with a lip ring and tattoos, but with a surprising amount of shyness it was laughable. His softness was offset by his powerful muscles, and I enjoyed his never-ending sense of humor. Unlike Dr.Maddox, Emery treated me like I was a normal person. Not an Olympian who almost lost her leg in an accident, or the woman whose fiancé died. I was just Y/N, and it was a relief to be around him.

Running my fingers along the scars on my leg, I mindlessly drew patterns around them in the silence. It was not normal for Emery to take this long, but his assistant had said he was running behind due to another patient, so I was unbothered. I had planned my entire day around this, so I was in no rush.

Finally, the door swung open revealing a disheveled Emery. Breathing heavier than usual, he rolled his eyes at me in frustration before saying his pleasantries. Whoever it had been had gotten him worked up.

“Rough morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I hope that woman never comes back here.”

I laughed, “We all have that someone. Don’t feel too bad.”

Shaking his head, I could tell it took restraint on his part not to rant and rave about the woman who had left. Emery and I were more friendly than most. I had been seeing him for over two years now, but we still kept a semblance of a professional relationship. Especially Emery.

“How’s the kids?” He asked, making small talk as we started getting ready for a swim.

I was the coach of a high school swim team in town, something I talked about quite a bit, and Emery always liked hearing about. He was a great water polo player but chose to go into physical therapy while he was in college. After seeing one of his friends get injured and how much physical therapy had helped him, Emery decided to change his major. Four years later, he says he could never see himself doing anything else.

“They’re doing well,” I said honestly. “We got a couple of freshmen on the team, but they’re doing a lot better than I thought they would.”

Emery hummed, offering me assistance getting into the pool. While walking had been mostly figured out, the obvious limp aside, I still had some trouble with getting in-and-out of things. Even my bathtub had to be switched out since I was unable to step over it. I still used the medical chair while in there, too.

The water was cool against my skin, and I felt instantly relieved. The dull aches and pains left as soon as I got into the water. Swimming to my usual spot, I waited patiently for Emery to join me.

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

Going to the edge of the pool, Emery grabbed a set of barbells and handed them to me. Taking them, the two of us went over the workout plan for the day. Pulling himself up on the pool’s edge, Emery picked up his stopwatch and told me to begin.

Getting on the interstate, I sang along to the radio as I made my way to Hoseok’s. The two of us had been friends since high school, our mutual love for swimming making it impossible to keep apart, and only growing with time. He was one of my biggest support systems after the accident. Both of us had retired years ago now, but I remembered our days as Olympians fondly. Those were the best years of my life.

A small group of our friends were getting together at his house to watch the summer Olympics this afternoon. The women’s swimming finals were happening today, and I knew two of the girls competing. Turning on my blinker, I quickly got off the interstate.

Pressing around my car’s radio screen, I went to my contacts and pressed Andy’s number. She was off today and in charge of getting everything together. Hoseok had tried to do it himself, but always seemed to forget who should do what and ended up buying everything himself. She picked up after the fourth ring.

“What’s up, sugar?” Andy greeted, her voice soft and light. Her Memphis accent was thick and brought a smile to my face. Everyone had made jokes about her being southern when we first met. “Don’t tell me you’re missing Nationals.”

I shook my head even though she could not see me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied. “What should I pick up? I completely forgot.”

Andy sighed, “You’re just as bad as Jin.”

Seokjin was Andy’s husband. The two of them had been together whenever they moved to Colorado, married before I ever met them, and became quick friends with Hoseok when they moved to the Springs. That was how I had met them. Whenever their daughter Dani was born, Andy had asked me to be her Godmother and I sobbed in her lap. They were my closest friends next to Hoseok. Jin was indeed very forgetful, though, and the jibe made me chuckle.

“Cut me some slack,” I argued. “I’ve been working out for two hours straight.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just get some pizza or something. We’re picking up some wings and Hobi’s in charge of the drinks. Minho and Tilly are bringing… something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Fully laughing now, I saw a Little Ceasars up ahead and got into the correct lane. Minho and Matilda were loose cannons when it came to our parties. While sweet, and fiercely loyal, I found myself wondering why I hung out with them at times. We were night and day personality wise, but I loved them dearly. Minho would probably bring some Korean side dishes from home, and Matilda would pick up a few packs of ramen from the store. Andy was stressing over nothing again. I hoped she was getting proper rest on her days off.

“I’m at Little Caesars,” I told her, parking my car. “I’m going to get the basics. How many things of Crazy Bread should I get?”

She thought for a second before replying.

“Five?” She was definitely unsure about her answer.

It was hard to gauge just how hungry everyone would be, and Jin was a bottomless pit.

“Sounds good,” I said instead, already thinking about getting more.

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Andy,” I unplugged my phone from the charger.

Pressing it to my ear, I pressed my start button and turned it off. I climbed out of my car and started walking to the store.

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

“Love you, too,” I replied. Opening the door, a worker greeted me with a smile. “I’m about to order.”

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I gave the worker an awkward smile before telling him my order. I ended up getting seven bags instead of five. Just in case. Dani really liked the stuff and Jin could smash an entire bag by himself. While I waited for the cheese pizza to come out of the oven, my phone started ringing.

“Hello?” I answered, unable to check the caller ID while the cashier shoved the crazy bread into my arms.

“I heard from a little bird that you’re thinking about competing again.”

I grinned and thanked the cashier as she handed me my other pizza. 

“Hello to you, too, Frank,” I replied. “And your little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Hoseok, would it?”

Frank and Sarah Boone had become a part of my life after the accident. They ran a local support group to help those affected by drunk drivers to get connected with resources and therapy. The two had lost their son when he decided to drive home drunk from a party and used the group as their own coping mechanism. They were wonderful people and owned their own joint coffee shop and bookstore in Denver. 

“Won’t say names,” He chuckled, “But it might have come from a certain part-timer. So, is it true?”

I placed the boxes in the passenger seat and rounded my car. This was not a conversation I was expecting to happen today. I had brought up the idea to Hoseok since the Olympics were coming up next year, but I was not committed to it. I was enjoying my new job coaching and did not think I was in any condition for competition. When he brought up the Paralympics I laughed. Those competitors were in better shape than I was, and I doubted I would qualify. I was disabled but my disability did not (as far as I knew) carry over into the pool.

“I was just talking shit, Frank,” Backing out of the parking space, I put in Hoseok’s address and started to drive. Switching over to my car’s phone, I put my phone down and looked at the road. “You know I’m happy with my life right now.”

He made a grunting noise that told me he did not really believe me. No one did. All of them were sure I was miserable about my career ending far before its time, and while that may be true, I felt more loss about the life I was supposed to have than winning medals. I missed Namjoon more than any medal. Frank and Sarah understood that.

“I know that,” He cleared his throat, and I could hear the congestion. Frank had come down with a nasty case of walking pneumonia two weeks ago and was still recovering. “Just got a little excited is all. It would be nice to see you putting yourself back out there.”

It would be nice to see myself back in the pool, I could admit that. I had dreams of it at times. Being a competitor was a part of who I was. From the first time my dad took me to my swim classes when I was six all the way until I claimed my eighth Olympic medal, everyone had said there was nothing I hated more than losing. I was fiery, free-spirited, and kept my eyes on the prize. It was the thing Namjoon loved about me the most. That made me frown.

“I left a champ,” I forced a laugh. “Need to save some gold for the rest of them.”

Hiding behind humor was a pastime. 

Frank laughed, oblivious to the hollowness in my tone. “Heard they have a new guy taking your place.”

That made me snort, “He’s not taking my spot. Totally different competitions, my friend.”

“Winning gold like you, that’s for damn sure.”

It must be Jimin Park. The kid turned up on the scene a year after my accident. He was a very, very talented swimmer. Fast as a bullet with the best butterflies I had ever seen, Park was a force to be reckoned with in the men’s league. It was a joy to watch him swim and this year would be his first Olympics. Hoseok and I were very excited to watch him.

“If you’re talking about Park,” I chuckled. “He’s far from new. He’s been competing for a few years now. First Olympics, though.”

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

Truthfully, I did not know how old he was. I remember the buzz around how young he was when he first broke out on the scene. He was eighteen when he took home gold all season before a family emergency took him out of the Olympics last minute. No one knew what really happened, but his team had said his brother was in an accident, tragically losing his life, and Jimin was prioritizing his family. He’s competed every year since and with the Olympics next year, I was certain Park would be there. He deserved it.

I was parked in front of the house now and from the cars outside, I was the last person to arrive. Frank and I talked for a few moments. It was cute how much he had learned about swimming so we could be buddies. Sarah was the only person who recognized my face when I first started going to the meetings and her husband was determined to get me to open after weeks of sitting in bitter silence in the back. 

We hung up after I promised I would make it to the meeting next Thursday. Frank was not happy about me skipping the past two weeks, but understood I was taking some time to myself. My boys were going to compete this year, I had fought tooth and nail for that funding, and the extra hours at school were exhausting. Jeremy and Evan showed promise, but they knew how to drive me up the wall with all of their simple mistakes.

As I suspected, the party was in full swing. Matilda and Minho were laughing loudly on the sofa, Hoseok sporting a beer in the recliner next to them, and Dani practicing her gymnastics in the middle of it all. I could hear the commentators talking animatedly about the girls, who they believed would come out on top and highlights from the night before, but I never really paid them any mind.

“Pizza’s here!” Minho boomed, practically running to greet me.

I laughed, handing over the boxes, “Need help carrying the rest in.”

Matilda offered, happily taking my car keys and leaving the house. Minho had disappeared into the kitchen. Dani spared me enough attention for a smile and wave before launching into excited pleas for me to watch her new moves. 

“Super cool, babe,” I smiled sweetly after her handstand. Dani was not particularly good at gymnastics. She started later than the other girls, rarely did anything she was actively afraid of, and hated her coach. Andy was already looking for a better gym, but I just thought she should start pointing her in another direction. Dani loved dancing and she would be a wonderful ballerina or figure skater if given the proper training. The Kim’s, however, seemed fine watching her deal with gymnastics and cheerleading. “You’re getting better.”

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

Flipping the right way around, her hair coming out of its messily tied bun and falling down past her shoulders. Brown, loose waves made her look so much younger than her eight years, her small stature only selling the illusion even more. Her skin was smooth, and she always looked as though she had been playing outside in the sun, a constant tinge of pink beneath her sandy skin. Her features favored her father, large eyes, long face, and plush, pillow-like lips, but after meeting Andy’s parents, I could see her grandmother hidden within the mischievous glint in her eyes and too small ears.

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked. 

She continued to babble away as I made myself more comfortable, kicking off my shoes and tossing my hat onto the small buffet table that sat above the shoe rack. Matilda came back inside, her arms filled with bags of bread, and I took two from the pile. With a thankful, thin-lipped grin, she also complimented Dani’s moves before disappearing around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.

“Dani,” Hoseok seemed to have finally grown tired of hearing the girl talk. I would imagine this was all he had been hearing since he arrived. “Do you want to color with me?”

The little girl clapped happily, her eyes bright and shining, before abandoning her mat to gather a few coloring books and her massive hoard of crayons. Hoseok looked at me then, a sly smile on his face before winking. I chuckled and shook my head. He always did that to make her shut up. 

I left the living room before Dani came back. I loved her dearly, but I could admit she talked too much. It was a good thing for a kid her age to be so social but that did not mean I wanted to hear her every waking thought. Andrea and Seokjin were the only parents in our little group, and I imagined it would stay that way for a while. Even if my dreams of children were still alive, I did not have anybody I wanted to take on that responsibility with.

Minho was eating the pizza, as expected, while Matilda had already claimed her own bag of Crazy Bread. Andy and Jin were snuggled up at their dining table, his arms securing her to his chest, and she curled into him. I loved watching them together. I had grown up in a house with two people who hated one another, barely kept up a facade of civility before my mother skipped down to be with her new boyfriend in Florida leaving my dad and I behind in Pennsylvania. We made it work but things were never the same after that. It made me happy to know little Dani would feel the love radiating in her home as she grew up. I had never seen two people so enamored with one another in my life- not even Namjoon and I.

“How was therapy?” Minho asked after we exchanged pleasantries. “Hoseok said you were talking about competing next season.”

I laughed in disbelief. That man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. I said the same thing I told Frank over the phone, and he scoffed. Minho never truly laughed, if I was honest. It was always a snicker, scoff, or chuckle. He was a man of little words and even fewer outbursts of joy, and I found his versions of those things just as reserved as the rest of him. He was the most expressive when he smiled, but those were just as rare as a genuine laugh. Dani managed to squeeze more out of him than anybody else. 

“Stop meddling!” Andy scolded the other man from her spot in Seokjin’s lap. 

“Never,” My friend replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Never!” Dani echoed, voice louder than Hoseok’s. She was giggling happily alongside him, and I rolled my eyes. He was her favorite. “Never!” She repeated again, pleased when Hoseok laughed. “Never!”

“That’s enough,” Jin’s voice was even and smooth.

Dani did not shout again but we could all hear her and Hoseok attempting to cover up their laughter. Andy smiled fondly. Their little friendship had warmed her heart. After Dani, Andrea had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It had come back six times before her doctor said she needed to get a hysterectomy. She grieved the children they would never have, the large family she dreamed of stolen from her, but once Dani was old enough to walk, she had been glued to Hoseok’s hip.

Hoseok for all he spoke about never wanting children, he adored Dani. His family was small, he and his sister the only children, but they were extremely close. She lived in New York City as a fashion designer and got married last year, and I always had the feeling Hoseok felt lonely without her. Dani was a welcome break from routine and made him feel special. It was sweet but I hoped my friend would find someone to share his life with someday. 

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

It was a great day for the U.S. Opal Simmons was one to look out for. She was the oldest woman on the team, a shocking 24, but she could out swim a vast majority of them. Her freestyles were amazing, earning her a gold with Japan just a few points behind. I was hopeful she would be able to come out on top in her distance swim. While not the fastest in the pool, the girl knew how to pace herself. The cameras cut to the shot of one of her coaches smiling triumphantly at the performance.

He was a good friend of mine, Oswald Bunch. He had been heavily involved with the Olympics for years now, promoted to one of the lead coaches back in 2020, but I remembered when he was still competing. A few years older than me, Ozzie was known for his backstrokes and long-distance swimming, and we bonded whenever we got the chance to meet in London back in 2012.

That was my first Olympics. I was a fresh-faced 20-year-old on a mission. My team at the time was stoked to have me around and I was excited to be there. I had built up a solid reputation over the course of two years, winning seven medals my first adult-competitive season, and the high was incredible. Back then, I was always the one to beat at the breaststroke and therefore, the medleys were in my favor as well. I walked away with 4 golds that year, and again in 2016. The accident happened a year later, but I left the competitive world with 8 gold Olympic medals and 19 world champion gold medals. Katie Ledecky held the record now, but for a time, I was the most decorated female swimmer in history. I was excited when I was finally passed up, happy for the younger woman.

Ozzie was the man, but sadly never got out of Michael Phelp’s shadow. It was not his fault. That man was insane in the water and would become the most decorated Olympian ever. Bunch was a great swimmer, but I did not know a single person who could compare to Phelps. Hoseok, maybe, but he only had 12 gold medals. Phelps had 23.

“Simmons looks great out there,” Hoseok praised, a large smile on his face.

“Her butterflies could use a little work,” I murmured back, already seeing how I could fix it with some extra exercises. “It’s slowing down her freestyle. What else is she scheduled for?”

“I think she’s doing the 200-meter freestyles and the medley relay,” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Bunch is banking on her pacing.”

“She won’t win those,” I was positive. “She’s just going to get tired. Breaststrokes are obviously not her thing.”

He laughed, “You’re the breaststroke queen, Y/N. No one's as good as yours.”

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

“Never said she wasn’t,” He sipped. “Her freestyles are killer. Girls could never beat you in breaststroke or a medley. You’re untouchable there.”

It made me smile despite myself. Hoseok was right, those were my competitions. Even if Katie had surpassed my record for most gold medals ever, I still had more Olympic medals than she did, and they were in completely different events. I could have kept my title had the accident never happened. I would have. Even if we were friendly, Ledecky would have been my competition, and I would have fought hard to keep the record.

“What’s Jimin doing this year?” Matilda asked as the women’s scores were posted. Opal would be a strong contender. “Anyone know?”

I nodded, “I haven’t watched every competition, but he’s sticking to what he does best. Didn’t he swim the 200 yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “He’s skipping out today and doing his individual tomorrow. Swimming back-to-back after that. Kid’s a fucking animal in the water.”

I couldn't agree more. As I stared at Opal’s smiling face, her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I wished I had been able to watch Jimin instead. She was cold and impassive even with a large, perfectly white grin that took up most of her face. In fact, I found her quite boring outside of the water. No flair or features that set her apart. Just a tall, well-built blonde with a nice smile. Ozzie would have to work hard to make her memorable.

“Simmons did well,” I yawned. “It’s getting late, though, and I have work in the morning.”

The goodbyes were quick, and Dani made me promise to take her roller skating soon. There was a girl at school making fun of her and she wanted her “super cool” and “famous” aunt to tell them off. We all laughed, and I told her we could go this weekend after gymnastics practice. 

My drive home was uneventful. It was already dark out, something that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud, and I never turned on the radio. I preferred to drive in absolute silence, eyes and ears glued to the road. I had only started talking on the phone recently.

I was much worse after the accident. I refused to get inside of a car for weeks and if I did, I was a mess. No one was allowed to be a distracted driver either. No radio, no phone, no conversations. Nothing. Jin had been the default chauffeur during that time and put up with my anxiety better than the others.

It was close to a year before I tried to sit in the front seat again. Another five before I got behind the wheel. For hours I would sit in the garage with my hands on the steering wheel staring off into the distance. I was still in a wheelchair for most of my daily activities and a very obvious limp made me too self-conscious to be seen. Isolating was easy. Keeping the others away was more difficult.

My drives started with me just backing out of the driveway. I went around the block a few weeks later, hands shaking and Andy trying her best to soothe me in the passenger seat. I did not drive past the Whole Foods two minutes away from my house until after the second year. Things were easier after I ditched the wheelchair and got more open to the idea of therapy.

Moving out of Denver was the best decision I ever made, the Springs were easier to drive in and the traffic was not as awful. Andrea and Jin bought in Black Forest once I was settled in Briargate, so loneliness was never an option.

Matilda almost moved in after the housewarming party Andy threw for me. She said it was far too big for one person and the neighborhood was to die for. I laughed her off at the time not really wanting to admit how nice it sounded.

Nestled in Fairfax, my house was a beautiful piece of architecture. The striking brick and wood front exterior provided a warm welcome, with teal trimmings bringing a fresh feeling to the otherwise plain color scheme. With five bedrooms and four bathrooms, I dreamed of the day I was able to fill them all. A dream that I hoped would come before I hit 35.

 Pulling up to the house, I waved to Chika next door. The old woman raised her hand, still nursing a large mug of what I assumed to be tea and smiled. They were lovely people and we often helped one another out whenever we could. Chika liked to bring over food if she cooked and I paid my landscapers to keep with their lawn.

“Late night?” Chika called out from her front porch. 

“Went to a friend’s house,” I replied.

“Good,” She meant it. “Glad to see you getting out of the house.”

I smiled but was not sure how well she could see my face in the dark.

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

I showered quickly and sipped on a cup of chamomile tea before heading off to bed. After taking my night medications, one to force myself to sleep while the other blocked the never-ending nightmares, I climbed into bed. I was able to play a single game of solitaire before they both kicked in. I fell asleep with the sound of gentle rain humming in the background.

“Let’s go, guys!” I yelled, blowing my whistle.

The twelve boys waited, their small talk coming to an abrupt end. We had just finished warming up and I allowed all of them a short water break. I was a huge advocate for rest periods. No one needed to pull a muscle or fatigue early due to over working. I had a 2800-yard routine prepared, 800 of those done during our warm-ups, and the rest divided between our main set and cooldowns.

Jordan, our captain, was smiling happily. He was such an excited kid, and his positivity was contagious. While some of the boys were disappointed when I first chose him to replace our old captain after his graduation, I was sure his spirit would do everyone some good. It did not take long for the others to come around and he was beloved.

“Alright, so we have a 1600 main set. In between each of our reps, we will be doing a switch out of easy breast and backstrokes. Clear?”

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

“Alright. That's what I like to hear,” Flipping through my clipboard was more for show than anything. I used to rely on it heavily when I first started teaching since brain damage messed with my short-term memory, but I had been doing this long enough to know what was happening. Now it was just a way for me to write notes about their performances. “We’re starting with a 4x100 with 15-second rest; the first 25 butterfly. 3x100 with 10-second rest; again, first 25 butterfly. Following?”

No questions were asked, and a few guys voiced they were good for me to keep going.

“Good. Then we have a 2x100 with 5-second rest. First 25?”

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

“Thank you, Abbot. Okay, and we’re finishing up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy.”

All twelve of them began to prepare to take their mark. One by one they stood on their blocks and waited for me to make the call. I admired them all for a moment. You could see the difference in each one of them. Those who were confident stood tall, their shoulders squared, and head held high. Newcomers were still figuring out their place on the team but were eager to prove themselves. Two of them would be leaving us this year, Gabriel and Marcus, and neither one of them were continuing to swim after graduation. It was a sad thought, but I was happy with how they carried themselves. They had both come a long way.

“Take your mark,” My voice echoed. Each boy got into their starting position as I watched them like a hawk. One of the freshmen, Phineas, needed major work on his form. I would talk to Jordan about it. Grabbing hold of my stopwatch, I took a deep breath. “Go!”

Marcus was the first in, like always, and I ignored him. I knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Phineas was the weakest link in my chain right now. He was struggling, his arms growing tired and his speed nonexistent. The other freshmen, Tobias, or as the guys called him, Twig, was not much better. He had more strength, but I chopped that up to his size. I would need to really start working some more beginner drills to get them in shape. Jordan and Gabriel would be more than happy to give up a Saturday or two to help out. 

Marcus was the first one finished and I marked his time. Still a tenth of a second faster than Jordan. After Jordan came Gabriel and then Joseph and Anthony. I was disappointed in Jett’s time, but I would invite him to the weekend practices with the others. He needed some foot and hip exercises. Twig came in before Phineas, but every other boy was already out of the water by the time they made it back. Phineas was visibly upset, and I made a note to pull him to the side after practice to cheer him up. 

Practices typically lasted two hours and the boys swam hard. Phineas did, in fact, perk up after I told him I was noticing tons of improvements in his performance. Twig just seemed happy he was not the worst guy in the water. After talking it out with Jordan, we decided on a good weekend time for extra practices, and I stayed behind to print off a poster and signup sheets for the rest of the boys. I had a feeling almost everyone except Marcus would show. He had a part-time job now and his weekends were full. 

Sitting in my office, I poured over my observations and timecards. With a team this large I should have an extra set of hands to help with timing. I sent an email to the principal asking about helpers and got back to the nitty gritty. 

All of them could work on something. Phineas might have needed the most work, Twig not far behind him, but my most seasoned swimmers had room for improvement. Jett was still struggling with maximizing propulsion, Anthony and Milo needed to get better water balance, and Gabriel’s pull could be better. Even my best swimmers, Jordan and Marcus, could use a bit of refinement in technique. It was nitpicking but they were too talented to give up on their potential.

It was close to nine when my phone began to ring. I knew it could not be any of my usual calls. Andy was working nights this week and Jin was fast asleep at home with Dani. Minho was in bed by eight, Matilda would never bother me this late, and Hoseok hated phone calls. Checking the caller ID, I was shocked to see Ozzie’s name.

“Hello?” I answered tentatively, afraid he might have called me by accident.

“Otter,” Ozzie greeted me happily. He seemed so delighted that I answered, I smiled even though I hated the nickname. “How’s life going?”

I chuckled, “Rockin’ and rollin’. Saw your girl last night. Looks great, Oz.”

“Appreciate it,” He was so dismissive of it I became interested. This was not a catch-up phone call or else he might have hooked onto the bait. My stomach twisted in anticipation. If it was not for pleasantries, then it was for work and that was something to be excited about. “Still teaching high school?”

“Mhm,” I fiddled with my pencil, papers forgotten. “My boys team is strong. I only have three girls that signed up so we’re just training during P.E. and hoping some more join.”

We chatted a bit more about the team. The longer it went on the more knots I had. Oswald was fishing for something, and I wanted to figure out what. After telling him about Phineas, I asked what the random call was about.

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

“Alright, you caught me,” Ozzie sighed. “Look, the Olympic team is looking for another assistant coach and your name came up a few times.”

My mouth went dry. I had heard about Tiara Marsh leaving to focus on her family. She had a baby and stepped down a few months after coming back from maternity leave. I respected the decision and messaged her my congratulations. Ozzie had taken the lead coach position three years ago with Todd Packer as his partner. The other assistant, Drew Jones, was a sweet girl from what I heard and working with her would be a dream. 

Still, it was an impossible task. Trying to imagine myself on the sidelines, coaching the next big names in sporting history with a massive squad behind me made my stomach queasy. I doubt any of them respected me. My leg was ruined, my career burned out just as quickly as it started, and I never had the chance to reach my peak. Now I am a 30-year-old washed up recluse. Just thinking about the media frenzy made my breathing get a little heavier. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oz,” I murmured.

“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” He replied, unsurprised. “They’re going to approach Storm Kline instead.”

“Oh,” Now I was confused. “Why’d you bring it up then?”

“Because I got to thinking,” I braced myself. Ozzie was known for his big, bright, dumb, impulsive ideas. “I knew the Olympics would be asking too much of you. Cameras and interviews are the last thing you want after the fucking circus you went through last time.”

That was an understatement. Circus did not even begin to describe the absolute hell the media put me through after the accident. So many speculations and insensitive remarks managed to ruin any peace I could have gotten during that time.

While I was in a coma, no one knowing if I would ever wake up again, the news thought it wise to harass my friends and family. My old coach, Victor Stanley, was assaulted whenever he left the hospital. When news got out that Namjoon was pulled off life support, his mother and father were so sick and tired of people parked outside their house they packed up and moved away before I even woke up. I wanted nothing to do with the media after that.

“It’s a little different but I think you’d be a great fit for the job,” Ozzie continued. “One of my boys, Jimin Park, is in need of a personal coach. His mom is sick and he’s wanting to stay in Michigan for as long as he can before coming out to the Springs to start training for Paris.

“I almost called Jung, but I don’t think the two of them would get along well enough for this to work. You’re the only person I know I can trust with him, and from what I’m hearing, you’re one hell of a coach already.”

This was somehow even more nerve wracking than the assistant position. I had never trained one-on-one before, at least, not long term. I was sure I could do it, but a high schooler was very different from an Olympic athlete relying on me to keep him in shape for the season. 

“What happened to Hamilton?” I asked, still unable to wrap my head around the situation. “I thought he was Park’s personal trainer.”

“He was but the two fell out when Jimin decided to stay in Michigan. You know how Matt is.”

That I did. Matthew Hamilton was a massive asshole, and that was putting it lightly. He was one of the best trainers around and got results which was why he still had a job despite his rotten attitude. I had the misfortune of running into him quite a few times over the years and my distaste only grew with each passing. I could imagine that conversation not going over particularly well.

“But what about my team?” I asked, staring at my desk. All of my plans and strategies were mapped out and I was ready to put them to use. My boys were counting on me and leaving them felt wrong. “I don’t want to leave them high and dry, Oz.”

“Ask Hoseok to cover for you,” I rolled my eyes at his blase attitude.

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

I hated that I understood where he was coming from. Most of my boys would never go off to swim professionally and their skill set was not on par with anyone out right now. They were not committed to the strict regime that would take and I did not get paid well enough to justify the extra hours. Jimin, however, would pay me extremely well and I would get that experience under my belt. I might even learn a few new things to add to my own drills.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” I finally conceded. “And set up a phone call, or meeting, or something with the kid. Need to make sure we’re on the same page before we waste one another’s time.”

Ozzie laughed, “I think you’ll get along just fine, but sure. I think he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Nothing of much importance was said after that. We hung up with promises of talking soon and then I was alone once more. My office was still just as messy and swamped with paperwork as it had been before, but it all looked different. It felt like I was already gone, and a deep homesickness settled in my chest. I stared at the papers in front of me and sighed before shooting a text to Hoseok.

As I expected, everyone had told me to jump at the opportunity. Hoseok even said if I didn’t, I would be the biggest idiot he had ever met. Matilda asked if she could come (I told her no), and Dani just seemed bummed that we could not hang out anymore. Andy and Jin were the most supportive of the situation while Minho the most cautious. He was worried about the media catching wind of something and causing a frenzy. After Matila pointed out how old news I was, I felt a little less afraid of that possibility even if it was a hit to my ego.

Ozzie seemed pumped when I told him I was open to the idea if Jimin and I seemed to mesh well. I was firm in my decision to talk to him before making any concrete plans, and from what Ozzie told me, my future student was extremely receptive to the idea. I also learned that Opal was jealous of her fellow Olympian, but I tried not to let that puff up my chest. 

That was why I was sitting in my home office, hair nicely styled and a light layer of makeup on waiting for Jimin to join our Zoom call. I wore blue since Ozzie said it was his favorite color, but the material was slowly driving me insane. While the color was nice, deep blue and sparkled whenever the light hit it, it was scratchy and irritated the skin around my chest and shoulders. I almost got up to change but a small icon with the letters ‘JP’ in the center popped up before I could.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

“Hey,” I replied with an awkward wave. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

Cursing under his breath, Jimin apologized for the tech issues. I adored how nice he was to listen to. It was unique, gentle and raspy, but also feminine in its softness. There was no bass or hardness, every sound and syllable light and airy with self-depreciating laughter after every insult he threw at himself. Apparently, Jimin was not great with technology and always had a difficult time with cyber meetings.

“This is fine with me,” I tried to reassure him. “I don’t need to see your face to talk.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s a little awkward for you to have your camera on and mine’s off.”

I could hear him clicking around. “I’ll turn mine off, too, if that helps.”

He shut that down immediately and continued clicking and typing. After a few more minutes, he found his problem. Then the icon was gone and there he was.

His face was round, his cheeks plump, and chin soft. The first thing I noticed about him was his lips. They were rounded and plump like a baby duck with a soft, heart shaped cupid’s bow that led up a small, button nose. Everything about his face was soft except his eyes which were almond shaped and flicked outwards like a cat’s. His hair was pitch black and parted down the middle, framing his face and making his pale skin look like snow. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the camera a large smile took over his face and I felt the wind get knocked out of me. 

“Can you see me?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.”

Neither one of us knew what to say for a moment. He swirled around in his chair in search of his water bottle. He stood up, excusing himself for a moment. He was also wearing a blue shirt, a pair of black pants, and seemed just as nervous as I did. He left the room while I sat and thought about him.

There was one word to describe Jimin: pretty. His soft lines and tiny waist made him look so much smaller than I had imagined him. All of the years seeing him on the tv did nothing to compare to watching him walk around a little room in his home. Without a cap and goggles, Jimin was angelic, and I felt uneasy. How was I supposed to work with someone I found this attractive?

“Sorry,” He was back now, a large Yeti cup in hand. “I should’ve made sure I had this already.”

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

He sat back down, and I finally noticed the large oval necklace he was wearing. I did not know what it could mean to him, but I had seen him with it a few times at events. It was simple and silver, no gem in the center of the pendant, and sat directly over his heart. He took a sip from his cup, snapping me back to action.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked. “Ozzie told me she wasn’t well.”

His expression saddened me, and I hated that I brought it up. I knew how much I did not enjoy talking about Namjoon’s death, and while his mother was still alive, she was not well. Unfortunately, I could not take the question back.

“I’m not sure how much you know,” He started, leaning back in the leather computer chair. “She has melanoma and isn’t doing chemotherapy anymore. I’m staying in Michigan so I can spend as much time with her as possible.”

My heart ached for him and his family. Cancer had a reputation for ripping families apart and I could only imagine how this was affecting the young swimmer. My own grief was long and drawn out, guilt and shame hanging over my head for years before I was finally able to let it go, but the death itself was swift. Joon was dead and buried before I woke up from the coma, but I could recall every detail of that hospital room when Victor told me what happened. I hated to think about watching the life slip from him, knowing he would die, and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“I understand. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I knew it was inadequate, but I did not know this man well enough to say my thoughts out loud. Maybe later, after a few weeks of training together, I could get the courage to let him know I would be there if he needed someone to talk to. I knew all about navigating grief and I would happily help him stay motivated through this horrible, tragic time. Jimin stayed quiet so I took it upon myself to get the ball rolling again.

“I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I just want you to know that I get it and I see you. If we work together, I will make sure your mental health comes first. Whatever you need, whatever your family needs, will always come before getting in the pool.

“You were working with Hamilton before this, and whatever happened between you two- I don’t know, that’s none of my business, but I can promise you I will try my best to make sure our professional relationship doesn’t reach that point. Just tell me what’s up and I’ll make it work.”

Jimin smiled a small, sad smile that paled in comparison to that blinding show of teeth earlier. My eyes could not help their roaming and I felt guilty. There was a chance we would be working together, and I could not feel this way about him if that time came. I could only hope that if we did decide to move forward with this arrangement, any affections I could have for him would get buried. I would have to talk to Hoseok about this.

“I have to take her to appointments once a week,” He replied, voice small and eyes staring at something off camera. “She’s not getting her chemo anymore but still goes to see her doctor often to manage symptoms as best she can. She also has a dance class every Sunday morning and I will be going with her.”

I nodded, “I can live with that. As long as you’re still putting in work you can take your mom anywhere.”

He took a deep breath and finally looked at the camera again. The vulnerability I found there took me off guard. Jimin must be someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve, and I would have to learn to nurture that. Namjoon always told me I needed to work on being more sensitive to others, a skill I had yet to master. 

“Matt didn’t like how much time I spent out of the pool. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m hoping we can come up with a training schedule that works well for the both of us. I feel bad enough pulling you away from your life, and I don’t want my personal shit to bleed into what you’re going through.”

It was a kind gesture, one I appreciated, but he needed to get over it. I told him in so many words that I was happy to help him.

“Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t want to do this then we wouldn’t be talking.”

Jimin seemed to like my bluntness and I was fond of his over-analytical anxiety. The way he fidgeted reminded me of Namjoon, his forward and direct confrontation of his emotions and needs so strikingly similar it made it nearly impossible for me to dislike him. I don’t think a person alive could dislike this man. 

“I can be in Ann Arbor next week,” Jimin had gone on another rant about inconveniencing me and I shut it down. “Everything here is already squared away. We can discuss it more later, how does that sound?”

He smiled wearily, his nerves causing him to squirm in his seat. 

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

I hoped my expression looked as sincere as I felt, “I’ll take care of you, kiddo.”

Pulling a face, Jimin laughed heartily. Triumphant, I smiled brazenly, his laughter contagious. I made a note to pull out a few age jokes now and then if it meant making him smile like that. 

“I’m an adult man, I’ll have you know,” He was still laughing.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

“We’re going to get along just fine,” He seemed more confident than ever, and it warmed my heart. “Let me know when you’re expected to get here. Do you have my number?”

We exchanged our contact details. After days of talking over email, I finally found a smiley face emoji in my notifications, a Michigan area code attached. Saving his number, I replied with the old woman emoji earning myself another laugh. 

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

I left the meeting, my chest much lighter after talking to him. He was a sweet man and not half bad to look at. I was a few years older but not disgustingly so, and he was more than available from the sound of things. Realizing the direction my thoughts were going in, I stood up from the chair to start writing out some drills and scheduling prototypes. Before I could get out of the door, however, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

Me: I’m flying in on Tuesday. Know a good place to stay?

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

Jimin: One of my neighbors has their mother-in-law suite for rent. I could probably cut you a good deal with them.

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart. 

Me: Thank you. And no deals. I can pay for myself.

Jimin: My mother would be very upset if I didn’t at least try.

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

I laughed out loud, thoroughly amused. I had a feeling he was testing the waters after I poked fun at him earlier. Jimin was probably used to the stick stuck up Hamilton’s ass. He was in for a treat. At the pool I was cool and collected but I could cut up with the best of them. 

Me: Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of my hip breaking

I was practically giddy with excitement waiting for his response. It had been such a long time since someone joked around with me like this. Hoseok tried but he was awful at taking a joke, so I stopped poking the bear. It was refreshing and all too familiar. 

Jimin: I’ll get you one of those life alerts just in case.

Was he flirting with me? Did I care? Shrugging, I went along with it. I would remain strictly professional while we worked together, but if things developed after that I would let them. Happily. I barely knew this guy, but I remember this feeling. It was the first time since Joon’s death that it showed itself to me and I wanted to hold onto it.

First work then play, I told myself. 

Who knows? This little bit of infatuation could fade just as quickly as it came, and I would leave Ann Arbor with a new friend instead. Might even be able to score a steady job with the kid if things worked out. My life in Colorado would remain untouched, my friends happily accepting a new kid in the group when he came to visit, and my house just as bare and empty as it always had been. The years continuing to pass me by.

I tried not to think about why that thought made me want to cry.

“I told you I’m fine,” I sighed into the phone, waiting at the baggage claim for my things. “You’re in rare form today.”

Andrea laughed, the sound slightly hysterical and I winced. That was the wrong thing to say, but she was driving me insane. I had traveled around the world multiple times, and she was acting like Michigan was going to kill me.

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Andy bit back, her tone clipped and harsh.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved one of my bags off the conveyor belt. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I promise you I’m fine Andrea. You’ll be my first phone call if that changes.”

The other bag finally popped up and I quickly snatched it. Slinging the large duffle bag over my shoulder, I adjusted it until it rested comfortably on my shoulders. Lifting the handlebar off my large suitcase, I drug it behind me while I followed the signs for the exit. Jimin said he arranged for someone to pick me up but did not specify who. He was busy with a few interviews this morning and could not get me himself. He had been very disappointed about it.

“I know I’m nagging,” Andy groaned. “Scratch that. I’m acting like a total helicopter parent.”

I laughed, “Your husband had been even worse. The man tried to book me a charter flight because he was worried about my leg in an airport. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November. 

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother. 

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade. 

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently. 

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself. 

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips. 

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

 That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer. 

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others. 

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway. 

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment. 

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices. 

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me. 

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible. 

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled. 

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job. 

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched. 

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself. 

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again. 

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company. 

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease. 

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more. 

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up. 

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out. 

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice. 

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family. 

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that. 

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags. 

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage. 

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long. 

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely. 

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down. 

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him. 

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same. 

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it. 

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Fire and Blood | Benjicot Blackwood — pt v

Synopsis: The Brackens retaliate and send their own men to the frontline and into Blackwood territory four days to the wedding, causing some concerns amongst the members of the Blackwood house. 

Kermit is summoned into the rooms of Blackwood's councilman as Samwell and Benjicot as they ready their men for the frontlines for another bloody feud. Benjicot impulsively takes things into his own hands and mistakenly escalates things.

masterlist | playlist | backwards | forward

A/N: I wrote a majority of this on my phone at a festival while i was drunk, i am going to be one hundred percent honest, so idk how it turned out and i am sorry but anyways! we are just about half-way! I tried to connect this sort of to the universe of “to strangers” but there is a small mistake in how Rodrik is related to Aeron that I have since fixed

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexually suggestive content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 7.1k

Fingers grazed up the spine of the dress — snug around her hips and lower than she was used to as they worked, ensuring the laces were tight enough that the dress’ bodice clung to her body in a way that was flattering enough to accentuate her womanly curves. The white fabric reached the ends of her toes as she stood above them on a pedestal, swallowing her while her hands remained at her waist, too scared to move in fear of tumbling over and crashing into the floor beneath her as the handmaidens tirelessly worked at her feet to pin the fabric and fix the hem — meanwhile, an additional pair of hands were at her shoulders and adjusting the cape of deep red and blue, embellished with gold thread, fixing it over her shoulders. 

Serra had never been fond of dress fittings, as it was an experience she found discomforting and overwhelming — with all the hands on her, the whispers as the women poked and prodded at her. Being placed up on a pedestal, put on display, and being made a spectacle of, did not help the matters. It was painfully awkward having so many eyes on her, critiquing how the dresses fit her, and the closer she had come to being of age to marry, she found they worsened — less bearable as the emphasis at one point or another was placed on her bust, mutters about whether the dress was flattering enough. With age, there was more focus on ensuring she appeared more mature than she felt; wifely and alluring enough for a man’s gaze, and unlike most women of her age who had their mother by their side to talk them through the transition from young, girly dresses to womanly dresses that dipped lower, fit tighter, Serra was not fortunate enough to dawn that privilege. 

When she first reached ten-and-six, Kermit, who had then been only a year older than her at ten-and-seven, had tried to sit in on the sessions and talk to her to distract her from the process itself at first. He tried to provide her with conversation and company, as it could become long and drawn out, however it only lasted for a short while before she sensed his discomfort — soon enough, he had begun politely excusing himself with some grumble about not wanting to ‘intrude’ and explaining that he did not feel it proper of him as a man to get in the way of a woman’s business — instead, he had his tasks as a man of the house to tend to but promising that he would check in soon. Though, he hardly did. 

This particular session was gruelling, though. She felt as though she had been there all day and worried it would never end; drained and ready to retreat to her room for the next two days as her head was nudged forward by gentle fingers that adjusted the neckline there. Her hair was guided over her left shoulder and neatly splayed down her back, her gaze fixed out the window that overlooked the yards as she listened to the distant sounds of Raventree. She could make out the sound of men arriving at the gate, returning with supplies ahead of the wedding, the gates a never-ending revolving door of men coming and going these days; the fingers on her left hand absentmindedly reaching to twist a finger on her right, “You may step down now.” The elderly woman to her right instructed, reaching out a hand to offer to help her in stepping down. 

She turned her head, turning her eyes to her hand as she accepted it, and slowly stepped off the stool, her left hand lifting her skirts out of her way. Her steps were slow and tentative, cautious as to not fall face first as she clenched her jaw with anxiety, only relaxing once both feet were steady on the floor, “Your father has requested the neckline not be brought any lower, we have fixed it to be as low as he has approved.” Orpheus, the elderly septa, explained. 

She wordlessly listened to her as she adjusted the skirt around her legs, removing a pin that had been forgotten and circling her, “Your father has suggested you wear a piece from your mother’s jewellery for the wedding.” She said from behind her. “He has provided us with two necklaces he would like you to consider—”

“My Lord.” 

The words were sudden and sharp in the soft atmosphere, Grace’s voice high-pitched and bordering shrill as she curtsied from her spot near the wall, the fabric in her arms clutched to her chest, her gaze pinned to the floor. The previous hum of mutters ceased, the room falling silent as the other women followed suit in curtsying in the direction of the doorway behind her. She turned, looking over her shoulder first before she turned, the door now open for the young man who stood there; green eyes watching her with a blank expression as if he was trying to figure out a reaction, “Lord Blackwood.” She announced, his eyes shooting to her face at the words. Serra moved to face him, curtsying to him with a flushed appearance. 

His head nodded to her, the women in the room remaining silent. Serra watched as his gaze scanned over her dress, skimming her head to toe and taking in her appearance, and suddenly she felt foolish; face hot and embarrassed as she nervously adjusted her skirt with her hands; his gaze lingering at her hips and chest, taking in the very little skin that was exposed, “You look…” he began to say, voice quiet and pausing, searching for the word, “it suits you.” 

Her expression appeared perplexed as her head tilted, mouth opening with a question as she caught the small smile on Grace’s face at the interaction when her head turned to look at her briefly, “I mean to say you look nice.” Benjicot quickly added, explaining himself and stepping forward into the room, though he stopped and remained stuck at the edge of the room, his embarrassment clear on his face as his eyebrows furrowed with a worried frown and reddening. 

Serra found herself reminded of his youthfulness, boyish as he glanced towards where Alistair found respite in the corner of the room and cleared his throat, the guard looking at him from the corner of his eye. She was again reminded that despite the tough exterior and his imposing presence, he was still a boy in some ways. She smiled, soft and shy, while smoothing her hands over her bodice, “Thank you, Benjicot.” She sweetly said. 

His head nodded again, again allowing a silence to fall over the room before he once again spoke, “I do not mean to intrude…” he said, barely in the room as he took two more steps forward and stopped, “I’m just on the way to meet with your father. I just figured I would stop by.” Benjicot explained, his hands clasping around the hilt of his sword, his fingers drumming absentmindedly. 

Serra’s shoulders relaxed with a deep exhale, the first time all morning as her hands brushed down the sides of her skirt, “That’s kind of you.” 

He released a hum in response, his eyes shifting from her face as though he was avoiding her gaze — and though the dreary weather outside, with its clouds, didn’t do her sight justice, she could make out the flush of colour that reddened his cheeks whilst his mouth pressed in a tight line.

“We were just about to pick out some jewellery— some necklaces my father picked from my late mother’s collection.” She suddenly announced, breaking the silence. “Would you like to help me choose?” 

His eyebrows shot up, his gaze coming back up to her face, mouth opening in protest, “Oh, I’m not a man with a taste for such things, I don’t think I would be of any help.” He replied. 

“Nonsense. Just pick whichever you think is prettiest,” she insisted, gesturing him to come forward as she turned then to look to Orpheus who stood nearby, “Show Lord Benjicot and I what father has chosen.” 

A look crossed Orpheus’ features, mouth pressed into a line and twitching for a moment as she glanced towards Benjicot, who reluctantly approached. He slowed as she turned to retrieve two cases from a girl behind her, sighing as she faced the couple and presented them to Serra, “Your mother’s wedding pendant— a homage to her natural born house, Mallister. Your father had it commissioned for her as a gift.” The septa explained, allowing Serra to reach out and brush her fingers over the silver eagle pendant with curious fingers. She carefully picked up the necklace, holding it between her fingers as Orpheus watched her, glancing once again at Benjicot.

She presented the second, its gold chain a striking contrast to the delicate ruby flowers that circled it and caught the light in the corner of her eye. She looked up and away from the silver pendant, perking up at the sight of it, “Oh! I haven’t seen this in years.” She exclaimed, her voice pitched and eager like an excited child as she quickly returned the silver pendant to Orpheus’ hands and took the gold chain from her. Beniicot, from her left, watched in silence, his expression still as he allowed her a moment to assess the piece with trembling fingers. His gaze briefly caught the elderly woman’s, drifting up to her and inhaling, met with a small flash of a smile that was polite. 

“This one.” 

Both Serra and her septa looked at him as he spoke, the younger woman looking at him with wide eyes, “It’s pretty.” He explained, referencing her earlier suggestion. His shoulders rolled, squaring as he stood upright. “You also look like you care for it.” 

It was a simple observation, but a meaningful gesture that brought a smile to her face nonetheless as she looked up at him. She turned and nodded to Orpheus, who withdrew with the cases, Serra keeping the necklace as she turned to him, “Could you?” She asked, holding the necklace towards him. 

He looked between her and the chain, visibly hesitating before he took it from her fingers with a gentle hand; a contrast to their rough, calloused state from years of training. Her back turned to him, moving her hair out of the way with her right hand to make the task easier — on cue, Benjicot stepped forward until he was close enough that she could feel his warmth radiating, hear the subtle swallow. He cleared his throat from behind her, his hands reaching over her shoulders and around to the base of her neck, letting the necklace rest there against her collarbones, his hands brushing her shoulders as they withdrew to her nape; her hand replacing his to hold the necklace. His fingers fumbled to do the clasp, brows furrowed in concentration and breath fanning across her neck, “There you go.” He said, his right hand briefly planting on her shoulder. 

She turned as his hand dropped back to his side, stepping back from her. Her hand reached up to the chain, one of the little flowers between her fingers as she looked down at it, a moment of silence falling over the room. 

“Your mother used to wear it all the time.” He stated, seemingly recalling the distant memory from her last visit there — Benjicot had to dig deep, pulling it deep from the catacombs of his mind, faded with time, but still lingering there all those years later. He could still vaguely remember the image of her, curtsying to him and his father, the light catching the rubies as the sun shone in through the windows of the hall, a young Serra at her side — he remembered the gentle nudge she gave her daughter as a reminder to follow her suit. His brows furrowed again at the memory. 

“You remember that?” She asked. 

He let out another hum, gaze still fixed on the chain as he nodded. Benjicot looked up to her eyes, the dimple in his cheek prominent as he chewed at the inside skin, “Yes.” 

He remembered her as kind and warm, a loving and doting mother and wife. He remembered her likeness to her daughter — he remembered rumours that his father had almost vied for her hand, though the venture was short-lived after hearing of her betrothal to Elmo. Sometimes, Benjicot wondered what would have happened if things had taken that path — how different things would have been. Would they still be in this position? Would Benjicot be any different? Would a mother’s kindness have changed the outcome? 

He was overcome by guilt at the thought. He remembered his mother as a kind woman with good humour from the memories he’d had of her from childhood, he had just never had the fortune of being able to have that same type of relationship with her that the Tully siblings had with their own. His mouth pursed, his hand absentmindedly wandering on its own to gently touch her cheek, Serra’s expression one of surprise and confusion as she froze. 

It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing, his hand quickly withdrawing and stepping back from her, “I’m sorry— I don’t know…” he stammered, his mouth snapping shut and blinking rapidly a couple of times. “I should be on my way, I shouldn’t keep the council waiting too long.” He muttered, his hand disappearing under his cloak and to his side as he spun on his heel to hurry out of the room. Her gaze watched him, still frozen in place and trying to process the sudden mood swing that made her head spin, her mouth opening.

“You mentioned he was an odd man,” Orpheus spoke from behind her. 

Serra glanced at her, taking a sharp inhale of air as she looked back toward the door, “Yes, odd.” She said, drawing out the word. The room remained silent for a moment, feeling Septa Orpheus’ eyes on her. 

“You forgot to mention how comely he was, however.” She said, her voice lilting a subtle and playful tone. 

Serra let out a soft laugh, embarrassed as she turned to find the septa at her side now, “Come, let us finish your fitting. I imagine you would like to get done with this.” Orpheus warmly said, guiding her back towards the stool. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot sat, nauseous and picking at the skin around his nails as the meeting drew on. He’d spent the past two hours in silence, hardly contributing to the conversation other than short hums or grunts whenever called upon, eyes only lifting for those brief moments. Otherwise, he wallowed in his horror and humiliation for his prior conversation with Serra and avoided any eye contact where he could. It had only dawned on him that afternoon how much of Serra he could see in Kermit’s face when he had arrived to find the eldest Tully, standing outside the doors and expectantly waiting for him. 

They hadn’t spoken in the days following their last conversation — the exchange relentlessly haunting Benjicot since, as he’d had nightmares about his mother, who at times blurred with images of her. Instead of his mother at the window’s ledge, he saw Serra, looking back at him. The first time it had happened, he had jumped awake with a gasp as he looked around his room; it had then taken him a while to fall back asleep, scared he would be forced to watch it all over again — watch as she slipped from the ledge with a terrified gasp. 

He was thankful that Kermit didn’t say anything when they met, Benjicot still out of it as he approached him. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact detail on him that resembled his sister — maybe it was a twitch in his face or a mannerism, but it was her. He cringed internally and walked in silence to their chairs, being greeted by Elmo. That daze had lasted all morning, only picking out little comments here and there from the conversation at the table, distracted by his own hands. His gaze briefly lifted as Samwell reached across the table from his seat at the head, gently swatting his hand with his own, sucking in a sharp, startled breath and looking up at his father, “You’re not present, Benjicot.” Samwell muttered, his gaze still down the table and not looking at him. 

“I am.” He softly sighed. 

“No,” Samwell sternly said, his eyes turning to him. “You’re not. I can tell. You’re not here right now.” 

It took everything in Benjicot not to snap back and argue, knowing it wasn’t worth it to start a fight over something so minuscule as the frustration crawled up his throat. His hands released one another and dropped onto the table with another sigh, “I’m just…thinking. I apologise.” He replied in a quiet voice. 

His father was silent for a moment as he stared at him, eyes briefly glancing towards where Elmo circled the chairs towards a conversation happening on the other side of the table, “Where are you?” He asked, looking back to his son. “Where is your mind?” 

He hesitated to reply, his gaze shifting as he tried to muster a reply that would suffice, “It’s nothing, this is more…” 

“It’s not nothing if it makes you unable to concentrate on the bigger issue.” He pressed, leaning forward in his seat, his gaze unwavering. “I ask as a father, Benjicot. Tell me.” 

The use of his name urged him to look up at his father, blinking a couple of times and opening his mouth, attempting to stammer out some reply — he wanted to tell someone, but Benjicot hardly understood it all himself. He’d yet to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. 

The doors slammed open suddenly which finally caught his attention, watching with tired eyes as the guard by the door was shouldered and jostled for a moment as the source of the commotion entered; a group of young men and cousins that Benjicot slowly picked out one by one — his gaze found Emrys strolling in behind the group, his face streaked with dirt and wiping at a bloodied nose as their eyes met. Benjicot watched as his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, shaking his head at his older cousin and looking towards where the leader of the group rushed in, dagger in hand. 

Ser Eryn rushed forward from his corner place towards the young man who approached the table, eyes wild and snarling as the men who had gathered near the end of the table quickly dispersed in various directions to get out of his way; the guard drew his sword and extended a hand towards his arm, grabbing his elbow. 

“Get your bloody hands off of me.” The boy snapped, shoving Ser Eryn’s hand off him and stumbling a step. 

“Davos.” Samwell firmly said, standing up abruptly to address the boy who was visibly seething — Davos stopped at the end of the table, tossing the knife onto it, the weapon clattering. 

“Those Bracken cunts have breached our land.” He said through gritted teeth. 

The room fell silent, their attention collectively drawn towards the knife on the table embellished with the Bracken’s sigil. Benjicot leaned forward in its direction, “What do you mean?” Samwell asked. 

“They’re on our fucking land!” He snapped, shouting. His father shot his cousin a look, prompting him to clench his jaw, taking a breath to ground himself before speaking again, “We ran into them this morning when we went to survey the boundaries last night as you instructed. They have set camp on our land.” He explained. 

The senior councilman, a grizzled veteran Ser Myles Rivers, slammed his fist on the wooden table, his voice gruff and filled with frustration. "Damn it! What have you two done?" His sharp eyes darted between the young lord and his father, his face etched with lines of anger and worry.

"We warned you about pushing too far, about provoking them. And now look! The Brackens have taken it upon themselves to set up camp on our land, challenging our authority, and threatening our people. This is exactly what we feared, and you’ve given them the excuse they needed."

Ser Myles shook his head, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "This isn’t just a skirmish anymore; it’s a declaration of war. The Brackens want blood, and they won’t stop until they have it. We’re in a dangerous position, and all of Raventree is at risk."

Another council member, Maester Edric, interjected, his tone calmer but no less grave. "We must tread carefully now. Retaliating further could lead to full-scale conflict, something neither side can afford. We need to consider our options—diplomacy, subterfuge, anything to avoid plunging our houses into ruin."

Ser Myles cut in, his voice hardening. "But if we don’t act, we’ll appear weak. The Brackens will think they can encroach on our lands without consequence. We have to show them that Raventree won’t back down, even if it means bloodshed."

"Samwell," he said, his tone carrying the weight of years of service to the Blackwoods, "you’ve always been the voice of wisdom in this hall. We’re on the edge of something that could consume us all. The Brackens are daring us to strike back.” 

He paused, searching Samwell’s face for guidance. "What do we do? Do we meet their challenge head-on and risk plunging the Riverlands into chaos? Or is there another way—one that spares us from a conflict that could bleed us dry?"

The room fell silent, every eye on Samwell, waiting for the elder Blackwood to speak, knowing that his counsel could either steer them toward war or guide them toward a more measured path.

Samwell’s gaze settled on Ser Myles. "I understand your frustration, Ser Myles, and I share it. But if we retaliate now, we risk a full-scale war that will stretch our resources and endanger our people. We must show restraint, even if it means appearing weak for a time. We will not act in haste. Instead, we will plan and prepare, ensuring that when we do make a move, it will secure our position without dooming us to unnecessary conflict."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Benjicot adjusted his riding gloves as he and Emrys attempted to hurry down the halls before anyone could see them and question where they were going — he knew the minute he was found out, his father would be notified within minutes and know of his plans. With very little room for error, their pace was a brisk shuffle of feet as he clenched his fist, attempting to break in the leather gloves that felt snug around his knuckles, the halls barely lit by the few torches that remained in this part of the castle. 

“Ser Eryn has readied the horses, they’re just waiting beyond the gates for us.” Emrys quietly explained, Benjicot’s eyes lifting to look over at his cousin, “Are you sure you want to do this? Do you think it will work?” Emrys asked, looking at him. 

“It will,” Benjicot replied. “What of Davos and his men?” 

“They have returned to the borders and will meet us there.” His cousin stated, the two men walking shoulder to shoulder as Benjicot vaguely made out the sound of a horse whinny from the gates — his head turned towards the windows of the hall that overlooked the yard. Through the limited light, he saw the gates open a crack — just enough that one of the guards standing post could speak to someone on the outside. 

“Your father is going to be furious, you know.” Emrys suddenly teased, a grin on his face. 

“He will come to understand.” He muttered, hands dropping to his sides, “He wanted me to take initiative and act as a lord for the people— if he will not act, I will.” He said, walking ahead a few paces as they reached the stairs, beginning to descend towards the doors as Emrys snorted. 

“Atta boy,” Emrys whispered, nudging his shoulder from behind and bringing a grin to Ben’s face finally, the buzz of excitement and anticipation coursing through him. “I can’t wait to wipe that smug fucking smile off of Aeron’s stupid little—” 

“Wait- sh, down!” Ben interrupted as a door creaked open behind them, dragging his cousin down a few steps by his elbow and urging him to kneel out of sight on the stairs; concealed and hidden. There was an awkward moment of clamouring and the rustle of their clothing as they ducked, waiting in silence as Emrys nearly tumbled down the stairs; only catching himself by grabbing the wall. 

The hallway fell into silence as the minutes passed, the two men completely still as they listened carefully, Ben’s gaze turned to look up towards the top of the stairs trying to peer through the dark to see who it was that had come out of their room at this hour. 

“We need to go, it’s probably nobody,” Emrys whispered after a minute. 

Benjicot hesitated, hushing him again and growing impatient the longer they were trapped there on the stairs, “Just…wait.” He quietly instructed, releasing his cousin’s arm. His movements were slow, attempting to avoid making too much noise as he stood from his knees and slowly lifted his head to look into the hallway, his eyes scanning. 

“Benjicot?” A voice whispered in the dark, his eyes darting up to find Serra standing a few feet away from him. Her head lowered, squinting to look at him and visibly still bleary as he assumed they had woken her, despite their best efforts to be as quiet as they could. And if they had woken her, he realised, there was no doubt they had probably woken others and had drawn too much attention to themselves; it was only a matter of time before they started to pour out into the hallway, alerting the guards and his father.

“Shh.” He quickly replied, standing upright and stumbling up the few stairs that separated them, his hand planting on the ground to push himself upright. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards a nook in the wall, his eyes darting over her head and scanning their surroundings to check for anyone else in the hall. The torch above them provided enough light to see her face as he looked at her, her eyes wide and confused, “You shouldn’t be out here, what are you doing?”

“I…I was cold.” She quietly explained, “Alistair was supposed to get some more wood for the fire.” 

“How long ago did he leave?”

“What?” 

He gently shook her, “How long has it been since he went to fetch wood?” He asked, looking down at her. 

She winced, shrinking back against the wall, “I don’t know…a few minutes before I heard you. I thought- I thought you were him,” Serra explained, her hands crossing over her chest. “You’re hurting me, Ben, please.” She quietly pleaded. He watched her eyes dart behind him, his head turning to find Emrys slowly standing to watch, ready to lunge forward towards the pair with a look of confusion on his face as he saw Serra. 

Benjicot released her elbow suddenly, only then realising how tightly he was holding her and sucking in a deep breath. Serra cradled her arm towards her body, hand rubbing over where his had previously been moments prior and frowning with her mouth slightly ajar, “We don’t have long, Alistair is out.” Benjicot said, turning to look at Emrys. 

His attention turned back to Serra, taking in her appearance — her hair slightly ruffled with sleep and cheeks flushed, still visibly exhausted but much more alert now as she looked up at him. His gaze absentmindedly dropped further, becoming aware of what little she was wearing; the fancy gowns of her house colours long since retired for the night, and left stripped down to a thin, loose cream-coloured chemise for sleep; a scarf hung around her shoulders to provide some warmth amidst the cool night. His eyebrows furrowed, Serra shifting uncomfortably under his gaze — Ben took a step to the left, shielding her from Emrys’ gaze, which lingered from behind him. 

“Sorry, my lady, we did not mean to wake you.” Emrys politely said, her head popping up over Benjicot’s shoulder to make eye contact with the younger blonde boy who hovered near. 

“Where are you going?” She asked, settling back on her heels as she looked up at him. 

Benjicot sighed, “Nowhere. It’s time you go back to bed.” 

She grabbed his wrist, lifting it in front of them and eyeing the gloves he wore briefly. He yanked his hand free, “So do you frequently just skulk around in your riding gear?” She asked, her voice quiet. 

He frowned, head shaking, “No— and it does not concern you. Do not stick your nose where you have no business putting it.” 

“It does concern me,” She insisted. “It will concern me, Benjicot, when we are married. Where are you off to?” 

“For your good, Serra, please-” 

“You’re off to go fight with those Bracken boys, aren’t you?” Serra pointedly asked, her voice firmer than Benjicot had ever heard it before, her tone knowing. It startled him, hearing her so serious and clear; her eyebrows furrowed in a displeased frown. He let out a breath, shoulders slumping as he deflated, stepping back into the wall behind him. His eyes rolled, looking away from her. “I overheard Kermit earlier.” She stated, her voice softening.

“Do you often eavesdrop on the matters of men?” He asked, his voice barely above a mutter. 

She hesitated, “Only when it matters.” Serra paused, “Only when it affects me.” 

He chewed his bottom lip, that same annoyance and frustration that had lingered in the back of his head that day creeping back up as he huffed, “It is my duty to protect and fight for my house.” 

“Yes, it is,” She softly said. “But there are men for that.” 

“It is just as much my responsibility as it is theirs— I am equally as trained.” He bit back. 

“I know you are,” Serra said, voice smaller now. “But you are also the heir— what should happen if harm comes of you?” 

Benjicot’s jaw clenched, mouth snapping shut for the first time during their conversation as his gaze dropped. He was left unable to argue that she had a point, but he had grown restless just waiting for action to be taken, watching while other men fought in place of him. 

“It does us no good if you die so soon in this war.” 

“What makes you think I would die?” He asked, his gaze still down and muttering like a boy. 

“You are not invincible, Benjicot.” She sighed in reply. 

The two stood silently, several moments passing before Emrys spoke up again, “I do not mean to interrupt, but if we are going, we must go now. Alistair will surely be back any moment now.” He quietly said, earning a glance from his cousin who inhaled a deep breath, sighing. 

“I need to do this— it is what is best for all of us.” He stated, voice more confident and self-assured as he looked her in the eye again, “You do not have to believe me, but I ask that you let me do this and keep this to yourself…just long enough that we make it to the boundaries at least.” He pleaded, his voice low. 

Serra eyed him, visibly contemplating his words with a tilted head, sceptical in trusting him; shoulders rising and falling with a breath, as she clutched the fabric of the scarf around her shoulders. Her gaze briefly lowered to his chest, swallowing. He could now make out the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall and coming around the corner, his eyes lifting from her face and attention turning towards the sound as his heart raced, growing increasingly anxious the longer she remained quiet; caught like a terrified deer in the woods, “Ben, we need to leave now!” Emrys harshly whispered. 

She sighed and released her hold on the scarf, sliding it from her shoulders, “I cannot change the mind of a man set in his stubborn ways.” She mumbled, grabbing his wrist to press the thin fabric into his palm. “Take this.” She quietly said. 

His eyes shifted to glance down at the balled-up scarf, soft and delicate against his hand as she released his wrist, her eyes on his face. Benjicot looked at her, blinking rapidly a couple of times. He could hear the shuffle of feet as Emrys hurried to ascend the stairs and come up behind him, grabbing his shoulder as the flicker of flames bounced off the walls, Alistair’s shadow visible now, “Benjicot, come on.” 

“For fuck sakes, just wait!” He snapped, his voice a whisper as he shook off his cousin. Benjicot moved to quickly tuck the scarf in his belt, securing it there snugly against his hip as his cousin huffed with a curse and hurried towards the stairs; leaving him behind to descend towards the front door. 

“Be safe, come back to us.” She instructed, beginning to slide out from the nook and back in the direction of her room, but stopped by his hand around her wrist that pulled her back.  His hand lifted to grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his head ducking until his nose brushed hers — he paused, feeling her sharp inhale of breath, before pressing his mouth to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss; her lips soft on his. He felt a hand of hers reflexively come up to his chest, confused and exploratory as if she wasn’t sure what to do or how to respond to the brief kiss. He withdrew after a moment, eyes scanning her features and noting the deep crimson blush that spread up her neck and into her cheeks. 

“I promise to return.” He muttered, stepping back and hurrying down the stairs as Alistair rounded the corner; finding Emrys bouncing on his toes by the front door

He could hear as Alistair called out a confused, “My lady?”

The sound of muffled conversation was distant and too quiet for his ears as he approached his cousin, who eyed him suspiciously. He wordlessly brushed past him, slipping out the door that Emrys held open before he felt him on his heels with a shut of the door. The two men bolted across the yard, the rain pouring down on the house as they ran towards the gates -- Benjicot squinted through the rain as he yanked his hood up and over his head, struggling to make out the shape of Ser Eryn who waited for him from the doors; the sound of water splashing with each step the two young men took. 

“My lord.” Ser Eryn shouted over the rain, bowing his head to Benjicot as he neared, hand reaching out already towards the saddle of the horse the guard held in place by the reign. He quickly mounted the horse who stumbled around a couple of steps, adjusting comfortably on the saddle as he tugged on the reins to pull the horse back and steady it. He watched as Emrys hopped up and mirrored his actions, pulling himself up onto the other horse’s back, looking down at Ser Eryn, “Everything is ready for you. You should reach the rest of your men within the hour. The fields will be slippery, so be careful!” 

“Aye.” Benjicot nodded, swaying with the horse’s anxious movements. “You’re a good man, Ser Eryn.” He stated. The guard gave another bow, muttering a ‘thank you’ to the boy lord who stood in front of him. 

With a snap of his reins, the horse took off underneath Benjicot; Emrys in tow as the sound of hoofs pounded against the ground. 

The rain came down in relentless sheets, soaking the earth and turning the narrow forest paths into a treacherous mire. The moon, hidden behind thick clouds, offered little light, leaving the night to be illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning. The world was dark, wet, and unforgiving—a fitting backdrop for the grim task ahead.

Benjicot rode at the front, his horse’s hooves squelching in the mud with every step. His cloak was soaked through, the heavy wool clinging to his shoulders, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, on the border ahead, where Bracken men had been seen trespassing on Blackwood land. This wasn't the first time, but it would be the last if he had anything to say about it.

Beside him, his cousin Emrys rode with equal determination, his jaw set in a grim line, "Do you think they'll be there?" Emrys asked, his voice barely audible over the drumming rain.

"They'll be there," Benjicot replied, eyes fixed on the path ahead. 

Emrys nodded, gripping the reins tighter. The path began to slope downward, leading them toward the river that marked the boundary between Blackwood and Bracken lands. The river’s usual gentle flow had turned into a roaring torrent, swollen by the storm, the water crashing against the rocks with furious energy.

As they neared the border, Benjicot signalled for them to slow down. The faint glow of torches flickered through the trees ahead, confirming what they had suspected. Bracken men were indeed on Blackwood land, and they weren’t even trying to hide it, face-to-face with Davos and his men. 

"How many do you think?" Emrys asked, peering through the darkness.

"Enough," Benjicot said, his voice a mutter. 

He drew his sword, the steel gleaming briefly in the dim light. Emrys followed suit, the sound of metal slicing through the rain-soaked air.

They urged their horses forward, emerging from the cover of the trees into a clearing by the riverbank. There, illuminated by the torches, were half-dozen Bracken men, armed and armoured, standing defiantly on Blackwood soil.

One of them, a tall man with a grizzled beard, stepped forward; a familiar face that Benjicot recognized as an elder cousin to Aeron — a boy Benjicot had encountered several times before,  "What’s this? Blackwoods come to play in the rain?"

"You’re on our land," Benjicot said, his voice carrying authority despite his youth. "Leave now, or we’ll make you."

The Bracken men laughed, their leader taking a step closer. "And what will a boy like you do about it?"

Benjicot’s eyes narrowed. "You’re treading thin ice, Bracken. Turn back and leave now, and we might spare you and your men."

Rodrik, the leader of the men, barked a laugh, “Don’t be foolish. Surely, you don’t truly think you’re anything to be feared, Benjicot.” He spat, taking a few steps in his direction, “Or did you come to meet my dear sister?” He taunted, his tone mocking and spurring a blinding rage deep within Benjicot, the taste of bile potent on his tongue. 

“You’d be lucky if you see her face again anytime soon,” Rodrick continued. “Though I doubt that is of any concern to you…seeing that I hear you are to be married to that pretty little Tully girl, aye? What’s her name again?” 

Benjicot twitched, his mouth turned into a snarl as he readjusted his grip around the hilt of his sword, his gaze watching the Bracken man like a predator does their prey, “Serra?” He slowly said, the name drawn out and followed by a sickening laugh, “Lucky man, Blackwood. You know she was almost a Bracken -- her father offered her for Aeron first before you.” 

Rodrik slowly sauntered towards Benjicot’s horse, the men behind him tense as they watched in silence; Benjicot’s eyes briefly tearing away to glance towards the Blackwood men, Emrys stood beside them and waited for any signal to advance, his blade drawn and ready -- meanwhile, Rodrik stopped once he was within arms reach of his horse. 

"Tell me, Blackwood," Rodrik sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice, "how does it feel to have a Tully as a prize, yet know she'll never be yours in spirit? Serra may wear your colours one day, but she'll always think of the strength and power of Bracken men. You can dress her in Blackwood finery, but deep down, she'll remember the better match she could have had—someone worthy of her station."

He leaned in closer, his voice a low, taunting whisper. "Enjoy her cold embraces, Benjicot. But remember, when she looks at you, she’ll be seeing the man she could’ve had."

He finally snapped. 

With a sharp cry, he spurred his horse forward as Benjicot’s sword struck with precision, cutting through the defences of the Bracken man as his blade found its mark, cutting him down with a swift strike. There was a gasp as the remaining Bracken men, seeing their leader fall, began to retreat, stumbling over the muddy ground as they fled back across the river; Rodrik’s body slumped against the ground, with his face down in the mud with wide, lifeless eyes. Ben’s gaze remained pinned there upon his body as the men withdrew, unmoving. 

Benjicot didn’t pursue them. He reined in his horse, breathing heavily, wiping the blade clean of blood off on his pant leg as Emrys came to a stop beside him, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Ben, what have you done?" Emrys hissed, his voice barely audible over the storm. His eyes were wide, but there was no judgement in them—only concern. "We weren't supposed to be here, let alone... do this."

He glanced around nervously, expecting Bracken reinforcements to appear out of the shadows. "You've just killed Rodrik Bracken. The Brackens won't let this go. This will start a blood feud, one even the gods can't stop."

Benjicot looked at him, blinking rapidly as the realisation of what he had just done dawned on him; suddenly feeling sick as shaking hands sheathed his sword and gripped the reins.

Emrys stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We need to think quickly. We can’t let them know it was us, not now. We need to get back to Raventree, and we need to make sure no one can tie this to you, to us. We can’t let this spiral out of control. The whole Riverlands will burn if this gets out."

The young lord nodded a stiff movement that oozed uncertainty. 

He paused, searching Benjicot's face for a response. "You did what you had to, Ben, but now we must do what we must to protect our house."

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When You Know, You Know

Azriel x Reader! Note: I may have gotten drunk and listened to Margaret by Lana del Rey. Here is a little blurb I wrote while doing that:) Summary: Y/N is scared of love, but a certain Shadowsinger throws those fears out the window. Word Count: 1015

When you met Azriel you just… knew. 

It was over. All of it. Every single piece of yourself was handed over to him whether you liked it or not. Because every single piece of bone and flesh, every drop of blood, every nerve in your body yearned for him. 

You had met Feyre at one of her painting classes in Velaris, one which you had taken your niece to. You had decided to stay with your niece during the painting, and when your sister came to pick her up, you had offered to help Feyre clean up.

The painting with your niece became a weekly occurrence. And over the course of time, the classes got busier, and Feyre had asked you to work for her. Organize the classes, help clean up, just simple tasks that were too much added to her plate along with her High Lady duties.

They were also simple tasks you were paid way too generously for. 

It was on one of those days, simple and peaceful, when Azriel walked through the doors of the studio and wrecked your entire being. 

Everything you knew, everything you had been taught, everything you loved had a new meaning. And that meaning was turned into the being of the elusive Shadowsinger. 

Because, gods damned, he was beautiful, and charming, and he was everything you should avoid. But all you wanted to do was know him. 

You contemplated the last time a person had ever made you feel that way, or ever at all. Had you allowed yourself to get that close to someone? Ever allowed yourself that vulnerability of loving someone like that?

No. The answer was no. You knew what love could do. How it could destroy one’s entire being. How it could make the most intelligent of people look so… stupid. But you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe just this once. Maybe it would work. 

Maybe you knew. 

And all your self restraint was gone when you peered up at him from the sink, washing paint off of the last class's brushes. You couldn’t just sit there like an idiot. You had to say something. 

“If you’re here for Feyre, she just left. But if Rhysand sent you here to get information on her new assistant, that would be me.”

And from there it was history. 

What you did to earn the Shadowsinger’s love, you didn’t know. And you never dared to ask. You gripped onto what you were given so hard, you were sure it had claw marks, but you did not care, did not think, and yet every day you were scared that all that was left of your love would be those claw marks forever embedded into the fiber of your being. 

Scared, you were so scared. You had yet to love like this, yet to have allowed yourself to feel as deeply as this in a long, long time. 

You had sort of loved, once long ago. Almost fifty years ago. And it had ended so tumultuously that you had barred yourself from ever loving again, from ever allowing yourself to feel the kind of pain you had felt when that love had left you in the dirt. 

“Are you just going to stare at me all night, or are you going to watch what this party’s actually about?”

You blushed, tearing your eyes from the Shadowsinger and finally aligning your gaze with the night sky. 

Starfall. It was Starfall. And there was nothing you’d rather look at than the male before you. 

“I’ve never actually watched Starfall from a rooftop before. Or at a whole party dedicated to it.” You answered, eyes still fixed on the stars. 

“Really?” Azriel mused, coming behind you and wrapping his arms around your body. “And why is that?”

And you let yourself sink back into his chest, allowing yourself to enjoy the warmth of him behind you. “I don’t know… Starfall parties are common. I guess no one’s ever invited me. I guess I had never gotten close enough with someone to invite me to one.”

Azriel bristled, but kept his arms around you. “And why is that?” He rested his chin atop your head. 

You sighed, gaze still fixed on the sky, waiting for the first star to careen through the air. “I think… I think I was too scared to give someone room to hurt me. To give someone that ability. It's a lot, to hand someone a piece of your heart and to trust them with it.”

Azriel sighed, and there was a long pause before he spoke his next words. “And with me? Do I have a piece of that heart?”

“Yes, for a very long time. Longer than I’d like to admit.”

“You’ve had a piece of my heart as well, my love. Ever since you accused me of spying on you.”

You laughed, as bubbly as the wine in your hand. “I barely remember saying those words. I was so stunned by you. You were the most beautiful male I had ever seen. You’ve had my heart since you walked into Feyre’s studio. And it’s scared the shit out of me ever since.”

“Scared you?”

“Scared me. I had never felt so drawn to someone, never wanted to know someone so badly the way I wanted to know you. Like I said, it’s a lot to give someone a piece of your heart and to trust them with it.”

“You really wanted to give me a piece of your heart? Right then and there?” Azriel smiled.

“Yes, I did. I guess, when you know, you know. And I’m glad I did. And I’m glad my sarcasm swindled you.”

Azriel laughed, placing a kiss on your head. “I will protect that piece of your heart with every fiber of my being.”

Tears filled your eyes as the first star shot through the sky. “I love you.”  It was the first time you had said it aloud, a small secret you kept  to yourself for the past months.

Azriel placed another kiss upon your forehead. “I love you too.”

[thinkingofausername]

Micah Bell headcanons:

He's only ever seen sleeping after he's gotten drunk so I imagine he has nightmares (aside from the fact he has extreme trust issues and can't let his guard down enough to sleep)

He didn't have a relationship with his mother or she died when he was little or she was abused by her husband. He never mentions her, we don't know anything about her. We know what his view on women is like. I imagine he got it from his father. He definitely wasn't born out of love

He took the majority of his father's wrath. We know firstborn Bells are traditionally named the same, so I believe there was a lot of pressure there

He's actually not all that cynical. He wants to be. All that talk of "nothing matters" is him trying to convince himself

He secretly wants companionship. It's been confirmed that he wanted Dutch to be a part of some sort of family of his. I don't think he's as much of a lone wolf as he wishes he was

He has abandonement issues. His brother left him and made another family and it affected Micah. It's seen in the fact he wrote to Amos as well as his behavior after his brother's answer. After Amos cuts ties with him for good he says "I want tomorrow to mean more than today. I want this whole damn shitshow to have some kinda meanin I haven't understood". He secretly resented his brother for doing what he never could - make a connection. He can only talk to people if he's riling them up

His father definitely forced him to perform his first kill. Probably when he was very young, so he would "toughen up"

In theory, I can see him having a somewhat good relationship. If his partner was tough they would have his respect. Trust would definitely take a while, vulnerability even more so, but I think he would show care in his own way - being posessive and protective, letting them handle his guns and horse (peak trust). We know how much he cares for his belongings. There would probably be passionate, adrenaline-filled sex after action, patching up wounds, cleaning guns together. A "partners in crime" sort of thing

He'd probably like bites and scratches during sex. Marking up his partner as well

He gave into the "hardened outlaw" life because he believes those are the cards he was dealt and the only ones he would ever have. He probably never thought he had a chance to be anything else

He definitely has a phobia of dogs or something similar. He very avidly reacted to Cain every time he got close, he even flinched one time

He genuinely laughed with Javier when they were drunk. He even said "I love you fellas". There was definitely a humane side of him, very deep down

His father never held any pride for him, god forbid praise. He craves hostility because it's the only thing he knows. He purposefully riles people up and laughs off every insult he receives

He obviously held genuine respect and admiration for Dutch. He wasn't just using him or manipulating him or buttering him up for betrayal. I genuinely believe he was looking for a place of his own. He never really showed an authoritative side or desire to lead. He said it himself that he's a survivor. It wasn't ambition, it was just searching for shelter and stability. That's why he ratted - the stability was gone

He died miserable. I could go on and on about his death but the main points are - he calmly accepted getting shot, he shrugged and silently fell to his death. That was not a man who saw a future for himself

I left the most biased headcanon for the end. Not to be the "I can fix him" girl but I genuinely believe a softer side of him could've been drawn out. I believe he could've had a "ride or die" person of his own. Two survivors, watching each other's back, suspicious of others but not each other, enjoying the uncertainty and freedom of life, two loose ends but tied together

[yourreliablenarrator]

“Displeasure”

⇢ Leon Scott Kennedy x Fem reader

[Contains: Profanity, some suggestiveness, drinking (mostly wine and whiskey), this is Leon from RE4R (after the mission with Ashley).]

Trope: Enemies to lovers(?).

Word Count: Idk (I’M SORRY Y’ALL 💀)

Note: This is my ever first attempt to make a small, little one-shot. Of course, there are going to be some errors and mistakes in my work, and it’s been a while since I last wrote something. This also my first time writing and posting it public, so I am both nervous and excited all at the same time! <3

P.S.: Also, if you have any criticism or concerns about what I write or how I wrote in this oneshot, please don’t hesitate! I really don’t mind any criticism since that will help me to write better and more efficient! Thank you so much!

(Edit (7/22/24): Forgot to mention that I did rush this and I do promise not to do this mistake again since I want for people, like you, to enjoy content like this. 💛)

He couldn't figure out why he agreed to attend this party organized by his colleagues. He wasn't really into parties, unless they offered drinks to help him forget about his own emotions and problems.

The music pumps through his ears as he navigates the crowd. Every sense was bombarded by various stimuli, especially from the partygoers. Nevertheless, he persists in pushing through the throng of people.

All he was going to do was have a few drinks and then leave without uttering a word. Or, well, that's what he planned in his mind, and he hoped not to have any interruptions from any of his coworkers.

As he walked up to the bar, muttering a request to the bartender to give him two shots of whiskey. The man behind the counter only gave Leon a nod in response and walks away to fix him up some glasses.

While he was waiting, more like spacing out, he notices that someone sits next to him. Yet, he decided to pay no attention to them as he keeps his gaze trained to the wood counter.

However, the person’s voice next to him catches his attention.

“Fancy seeing you here, Leon.”

Quickly, he turns to look at the person next to him, only to realize that it was you. Of course it had to be you out of anyone in this building.

You and Leon didn’t have the best relationship with one another. You both bicker and make snarky comments to each other. Every time you teamed up in a mission, you and him always left with the most annoyed look on your faces. No one knows what happens during those missions, but at least you both get the job done.

You were wearing a red, skimpy dress—something to catch his eye and makes his face redden. He almost wanted to look up and down your body and make a flirtatious comment, but he hated you—right?

He lets out a tired scoff, turning away from you the moment he realized that his small cups were already in front of him. He grasps one of the shot-glasses with narrowed eyes, his teeth gritted together.

“What do you want?” He grumbles in a low, displeased tone, taking a quick sip of his whiskey.

“Why do you always think I want something from you?” You responded with another question, he could feel your eyes trailing up and down his body, almost making him want to shiver.

“Because whenever you’re around me with that cocky, little grin, you either want to annoy the hell out of me or you’re that drunk and you want to make out with me.” He explains, which only made you feel more amused.

“Touché,” you mutter with a bigger smile, trying to keep yourself from laughing.

Leon only rolls his eyes in response, taking the last sip from his second shot of whiskey. When he places it down on the counter, his eyes were now on your face, which had a big smile.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle you or kiss you senseless.

“Can you leave me alone?” He asked, adverting his gaze from you once more and looks back at the bartender who gave him a third glass.

“Well, can we talk?” You ask him with a raised brow, leaning your chest against the counter to try and catch his gaze, but it was a futile effort.

”’Bout what?” He asked, looking down at his small cup.

“About us.”

Confused, Leon’s face immediately turned towards yours once more, realizing that you weren’t joking about this. It was slightly surprising since, well, you weren’t exactly a girl that would take anything seriously as much as he does.

“…Like what?” He added, shifting his body so he didn’t have to keep his heard turned while his body was towards the counter.

“Well,” you began, shifting closer to him on your seat, “we’ve accidentally been at each other’s throats ever since we first met. I don’t think that we should… well, y’know, be enemies, I guess?”

“You guess?”

You only shrugged your shoulders in response.

Hesitant, Leon ponders at the prospect at being friends—or at least allies—anytime you both went on missions. It did seem tempting, but he was clearly reluctant since this was so sudden.

“Look,” he began with a sigh, shaking his head. “If it’s just because you want to sleep with me, then I don’t really care about being on good terms with you.”

“Nah,” you answered.

He exhales sharply, gripping at his small shot of whiskey in his grasp.

“Alright,” he answered, turning his gaze back onto the counter in front of him. “Only on one condition: you stop giving me those weird looks like you are right now.”

He doesn’t want to admit, but those “weird looks” were making his heart flutter and his pale cheeks more flushed with color.

“Deal.” You responded before raising your cup up with a smile. “Cheers to a new friendship.”

He scoffs at first, but finally raises his glass before he quickly chugs it like he hasn’t drank anything for a week.

“Damn,” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side. “Calm down, Leon. Does that whiskey even touch your tongue?”

“Yeah, but I don’t give a shit.”

…

Hours passed, most of the people who were here for a good time were starting to leave. Yet, you both were still there on the same seats you were on for the last few hours.

You both were pretty drunk, and Leon usually had a high tolerance to alcohol and could hold in his liquor, but he was probably on his fifth drink of the night besides the first few whiskeys he had at the start of the night.

He was starting to loosen up to you.

Well, he already was, but maybe a bit too comfortable around you.

He was rather a bit touchy when he was drunk, and you didn’t really expect that from him. In all seriousness, most people would assume that he was a sleepy drunk or maybe even an idiot when he was drunk, but not this flirtatious.

Yet, you didn’t really mind this.

It was finally time when you both decided to part ways for the night; or that’s what you planned to.

Just as about you were head to the door, something came over Leon that almost made him want to shout stop and ask you not to leave. Instead of doing that, his subconscious thought immediately went to grasp your wrist. It was firm, but gentle.

When you turned to him, his face was flushed, but you weren’t sure if it was because how much he drank… or if this was something else?

“Hey,” he began in a low, gentle manner.

“Yeah?” You asked with a small grin, trying not to snort at how his words were slurred together.

“Do…” his voice trails off, as if he was afraid of being rejected by you. “Do you wanna come over to my house tonight?”

He was caught off guard by what he just had asked. Yet, he still did it anyways, and now he was holding his breath and waits for your response.

Then, you finally gave him a sweet, sultry smile in the process. You took a small step towards him before pushing your lips against his, pulling him into a passionate, warm kiss.

When you both pulled away, you look at him with a chuckle.

“Sure,” you replied. “Hope you don’t mind staying up late.”

He laughs in response. “Don’t mind.”

He pulls away from you before he takes your hand into his, intertwining your fingers with his. Finally, you both start to leave the party with big, excited grins on your faces.

It seems like neither of you were going to get any sleep tonight.

[teatreeoilll]

|| Temptation (Satoru Gojo X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

While hoping to be reinstated in the Jujutsu world, you meet with the teacher you had a crush on in your school days.

I wrote this while drunk, I think that says it all.

Image credits to user blueparadis.

"Why'd you call me Sensei?" Gojo chuckled, his long fingers reaching his blindfold, holding it up to let one eye peek from under it. You take a seat across from him. "I was only your teacher for a year, and that was ages ago."

He was right, of course, but the air of his office and the familiar smell of the chrysanthemum bushes outside the window had brought back too many memories of your last year at Jujutsu High; your mind had no trouble flashing the images of late nights and talks with your then best friends.

2009

"I think I might fail this year," you'd laugh, covering your mouth with your hand, thinking it would hush your uncalled-for remarks you'd whisper in the middle of training sessions, "I mean what is he, a few years older than us?"

On weekend nights, the few students in your grade would gather in one of the rooms, trying to muffle the 'tsssk' sound the opening of the drinks they managed to smuggle for these occasions would produce. At most of these gatherings, the tougher subjects would be tactfully avoided, no talk about missions and curses, or mentions of horrible past incidents were allowed.

There wasn't much left to chat about after the rules were unanimously established, and so most nights your classmates would group together laughing at the feelings you've managed to develop for your new teacher. The running joke had always made your cheeks flush red. "Oh, Gojo-Sensei, your eyes are so blue!" A boy from your class would make a lousy impression of your voice that would always elicit laughter from the group, "Oh, Gojo-Sensei, could you tutor me?"

Even at that age, you liked to think that no one apart from your friends could observe the crush you've steadily developed. However, especially when hearing your whispers, your teacher had always felt that was an insult to his self-proclaimed skills of deduction. Gojo would make sure to pause his enthusiastic explanations to put a large hand on your shoulder just to watch you blush, and your classmates giggle. He was far too determined to take advantage of each lesson to bask in the feeling of your attentive gaze.

present day

"I'm sorry," you mutter, "Old habits." His limbs are sprawled on the shiny leather of the chair as he talks ; "Are you thinking of returning to the Jujutsu world? If so, I think there are more suitable people to talk to." He noticed your gaze shifting downwards, he didn't mean any harm with his words, but you couldn't help but feel unwanted in the room.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, I just thought that -" "Ah, I'm sorry. You probably just came to visit your old Sensei you used to crush on." He snickers. Getting up from his seat, he walks around the large desk, just to put a hand on your shoulder the way he remembered would make you blush. "What? I -," You struggle to find the words, your gaze still fixed on your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I - I never had a crush on you."

Your words seemed to him as a personal challenge. The determination to make you admit it excited every cell in his body as he kneeled before you, the grin widening on his face when he grabbed your fidgeting hand to hold gently, the sudden touch making you raise your eyes to glance at him.

He hardly changed, you thought, his mannerisms still as shameless as they were back then, his touch still making your stomach flutter. "Nothing to be ashamed about," He declares, "It was your last year, and this young, attractive man comes in -" "Gojo Se-" you stop yourself from saying the word that so easily excited him to go down this path, "Gojo, I'm really only here to talk my reinstatement."

His thumb moves slightly over the back of your hand, the walls of the room closed in on you when the heat from his hand runs straight to your head. "Sure," He lets out another small chuckle before putting on a serious expression, "Just as soon as you'll admit it."

He watches your brows furrow. "I see you've learned nothing. The first rule of Jujutsu is that honesty makes you more powerful," The snarky comment makes you cross your arms. You yank your hand back, and the chair scratches the floor under you when you get up.

"That's childish," You inhale a sharp breath, but his immaturity, as most spiteful characteristics, rubs off on you. "Might you be so stubborn because you're the one who had a crush on me?" You spew, stunned at your own unsophisticated comment.

"Who says I didn't?" He gets up from his knee to face you once again, his unwavering enthusiasm makes it hard to control your pent-up urge to both pull him to you, and shove him away. Huh?

"Never mind that," He suddenly says.

"What do you mean, never mind that?" You cock your head to the side, confused at the sudden change of heart he displayed. "I don't need you to admit it anymore," You watch the corners of his mouth twitch lightly before widening back to a broad grin, "You already did, little tomato."

Your hands shot up to feel your own cheeks, the heat radiating to the palms of your hands. You were sure you looked like you'd just run a marathon. "Alright, little tomato, you can ask about the other things now," He smiles, leaning back on his desk. A thought crosses your head that even Alexander the Great didn't beam like that when bringing the Persian Empire to its knees.

"Don't call me that," you protest. With each response he'd evoke from you, he'd find himself more captivated, seizing the moment to push himself off of the desk only to stand closer to you. "Why not, little tomato?" He'd found himself too fond of the new nickname, his face so close to yours you couldn't ignore it if you tried. His blindfold sat peacefully at the crook of his neck, his hair splayed on his forehead, eyes agonizing to look at; looking half at you and half through you.

The childish-like oblivious manner of your feelings had disappeared as soon as his lips brushed on yours, the pit of your stomach spinning and swirling at the fantasies you thought you'd left behind years ago. He snorted a little when you pressed your lips against his, his hands impulsively gripping your thighs.

He groans between the kisses; "I really see I've taught you nothing, little tomato," He murmured, "The second rule is never letting your opponent know he's got the upper hand."

[neoballsucker]

DIVE INTO YOU

Summary : you and your co-workers/ friends decided to go on a trip for a vacation from work what else could happen?

Genre : friends/ coworkers to lovers

Pairs : doyoung X fem!reader X Johnny

Waring : Smut , fluff at the end , threesome , Double Penetration , if there any else pls lemme know 😭🙏

WC : 1.8k

A/N : it's kinda quick cuz I wrote that when I was half asleep I'm sorry 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

You always dreamed of a man to fit the standards your standards tall handsome face muscular body a sweet smile smooth voice talented can cook can take care of you and understand you and show you love as much as you do you tried dating multiple times it never worked out you really thought you were the problem you never lasted with any of them while they find the love of their life getting married and even having kids you didn't really care children and marriage weren't really your thing being the hopeless romantic you are , you went to the bar after work , you worked in a really big company and you were getting paid really well , you never complained about anything in your life

I'm the bar you sometimes go with your workmates but most of the times you go alone, the job was alot so you go to get drunk and maybe get laid if you're lucky enough

“The usual or something new this time?” The bartender asked you

“Nah get me the usual or do you have anything special ?” you asks and rolls her eyes

“Then the usual” he chuckles and disappears

You look around the bar you notice some familiar faces but you weren't really interested in any of them until your eyes were fixed on doyoung and Johnny

They were from the office you worked at they were everyone's crush , when someone try and flirt with any of them they just smile and nod simply, some people thought they had girlfriends some thought they were gay and dating cause they always stick to eachother and hang out together

You were kinda interested in them they were handsome and so gentle and kind with everyone but you didn't really wanna date someone from work

“Here's your drink miss” he taps your shoulder

“ah thank you” you take the drink from his hand as you turn your back you find a muscular body Infront of you…well two of them actually

“Oh hey y/n right?” It was a familiar voice you looked up to see the two beautiful men from your office the voice was coming from doyoung

“Ahh yes you're right that's me” you smile and nod slightly

“You look stunning by the way” the other older man says with a sweet smile

“Oh well thank you you look great as well” you smile back at him

“Oh let's go take a seat” doyoung noted and both you and Johnny nod in agreement all three of you walk over to the nearest table

The three of you talked and got to know eachother more it was really nice talking to them they were nice and had a really stable life both of them were gentle with you had a really sweet smile the night ended with all three of you drunk everyone barely could walk on their feet

The next day when you woke up you found both of them checking if you went home safely it was really sweet of them

Days after days weeks after weeks you developed a really good friendship

Months passed and you decided to go on a vacation it was nice to go on a beach trip after working most of the year right?

After a long trip everybody goes to their room and rest til the next morning

“Good morning y/n !!” A text from doyoung was sent

“ahh good morning doyoung did you sleep well?”

“Oh yes I did wanna head to the beach?”

“Oh yeah sure just wait until I get ready”

“Yeah alright then see you soon”

You smile at his text and go to change and get ready you wore your 2 piece swimsuit and did your hair and wore some sunscreen after that you got out of your room heading to the hotel's gate and met doyoung and Johnny there

“Good morning princess did you sleep well?” Johnny asked while smiling

“Oh yes I did , did you sleep well ?” You smile back at him

“Of course I did” he chuckles softly as you roll your eyes

As both men sit in the front seats you sit in the backseat

“i had to reserve the beach” doyoung says

“What ? Why did you do that there's literally nothing special about it” you ask confusedly

“Well that beach is really famous and it has alot good services so it was worth it y/n” doyoung says trying to convince you

“Yeah we will also stay the whole day there they has some house Infront of the beach so don't worry about it so much” Johnny added to the younger man's words

“Oh well…at that point it's fine I guess “ you can hear them both chuckles after about 30 minutes you finally arrived to your destination

“C'mon y/m we arrived” doyoung says

Johnny was more flirty than doyoung he always flirted with you it's not like you're the only one he always flirted with people it was something he does while doyoung was more serious while talking he didn't like being really flirty or anything but never complained about any of them it's their nature

You got out of the car grabbing your bag and tried helping them taking out the things they got but they refused

“Let me guess you didn't grab any clothes to stay here did you?” Doyoung asks you and chuckles

“And how was I supposed to know we're staying here? Nobody told me”

“Well luckily I got extra pajama in case something happened or whatever”

“Aww thank you doyoung “ you hugged him for few seconds and pulled out

“Anyways love birds are you ready to have fun?” Johnny says and rolls his eyes

“Oh stop Johnny you're not funny anyways let's go” doyoung chuckles and grabs few things like towels sunscreen sunglasses etc

You all headed to the beach it was fun Johnny tried showing off his skills but failed trying some tricks you saw on the internet it was fun you laughed talked time passed really quickly everyone got out showered and slept for about an hour

“Wake up sleepy head” you feel doyoung shake you off

“I'm awake doyoung” you said In a sleepy tone

“I can see that” he tsks as you feel his face closer to you

You tried to keep distance

“Are you trying to kiss me or what?” You ask jokingly

“Oh is it that obvious?” He chuckles and got closer to you, it was kinda surprising to you cause doyoung wasn't the type to flirt at all you panicked as he got closer to you

You felt his lips on yours you didn't know what to do that moment but you gave in and kissed him back you can feel his hands around your waist pulling your body closer against him as you wrap your hands around his neck the kiss last for few moments until you hear someone clearing his throat both of you and doyoung pulled out and looked at johnny awkwardly

“uhh well…Johnny it's not like th-”

“Wanna join us?” Doyoung cuts you off

“Oh well hell yeah dude you know I'm in” Johnny sits next you and now you're stuck between both of them like a sandwich

As you feel Johnny leans in and kisses your lips you didn't resist it this time you actually returned the kiss immediately after few moments you feel doyoung pulling you to meet his lips he kisses your lips passionately and gently you feel Johnny taking off his shirt revealing his toned body and tattoos he then pulls you to kiss him again as doyoung takes off his shirt as well , it was like a dream of yours you didn't fantasize about them before you alway saw them as some friends from work you never expected it to end up like that

Kissing doyoung then Johnny then doyoung again it kept going like that for a while until doyoung throws you on the bed as both of them take off their pants you take off your shirt and pants as well being only left in your laced underwear and bra they both get on bed and Johnny captures your lips in a kiss while doyoung kisses your neck you moan in Johnny lips and you feel your bra being ripped off revealing your breasts Johnny let go off your mouth and puts one of your nipples in your mouth and doyoung takes the other one in his mouth you rub your thighs against eachother as you feel wet you feel hands on your thighs taking off your panties carefully both of them inserts one of their fingers inside you you moan loudly as your eyes roll back due to the pleasure

“O-oh fuck I want b-both of you of fuck” you could barely talk due to Overstimulation

“There is no condoms in here y/n” doyoung says

“It doesn't matter just…just fuck me” you

“As you wish princess” Johnny says and looks at doyoung

“C'mon doyoung stop being so boring I know you're hard too” Johnny say as you hear doyoung sighs

“Fine I swear I don't know how this will turn out” doyoung finally gives in

They both get up

“You sure you can take both of us babe?” Doyoung says as him and Johnny settled between your legs

“Yes I can just please do it” you begged them

As you feel them in you already

“Oh fuck you're so tight oh my god” Johnny says his voice was much deeper and low

Doyoung was quiet moaning his moans was like music for your ears they both try to move in sync adjusting themselves as you moan loudly hips thrusting the sound of your moans the whole thing seemed like a dream to your vision was blurry as you can barely breathe you feel your release as your eyes close tightly gripping on the sheets as you feel their seeds in you , you moan loudly and roll your eyes they both stop and throw themselves next you on both sides and the three of you just fall asleep

You wake up the next day you found yourself sleeping by yourself you just go shower and head to the kitchen you found them both there talking

“Good morning y/n” doyoung smiles

“Oh good morning doie” you smile back and hug him awkwardly he returns the hug he usually doesn't do that something was wrong but you didn't mind it

“So me and Johnny were talking..and well would you want to be my…well our girlfriend”

You look at them for a while

“Oh well yeah sure you guys are great but can you both share” you chuckles and hug doyoung even tighter Johnny joins and you three end up making love on the floor”

[buckysxgal]

Sweet Flame - Heat x Reader

Picture I got from Pinterest - it's a screencap from One Piece

Summary: Heat’s partner (you) gets separated from the Crew when Kaido lands on the island holding the Kid Pirates Hideout.

Word Count: 1,694

Details: Set in Wano Country Arc. Kid and Heat may be OOC but idc lol. Established relationship. Just a sweet little fic about Heat and his sweet partner. Tried to keep it as GN as possible, if I missed something let me know and I will fix it! I've never written Heat before, hopefully I wrote him well!

Also posted on AO3

Floral Banner and Support your Creaters banner from @saradika

You weren’t with the Kid pirates very long when you had encountered the King of the Beasts.  When Kaido landed on the island where the Kid Pirates Hideout was, it was discovered that Apoo was already aligned with Kaido. You had been standing with Emma and House at the time, on the right side of the hole created by Kaido’s fall when Kaido locked eyes on me and reached his arm toward me, grabbed me and brought me closer to his face. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He said with a malicious grin.I struggled against within his hold and could vaguely hear the Kid Pirates shouting for Kaido to let me down but my ears were focused on Heat yelling out for me. Kaido brought me closer to his face and I could smell the Sake on his breath. 

“I’m going to have fun with you.” He said as he squeezed a bit harder, my vision getting darker by the minute.

Getting separated from the rest of your crew was not easy, especially seeing as you weren’t as good a fighter the rest of the crew. By no means were you a bad fighter, but your skills lay more on the medical side of things. 

Kaido had you on a leash, figuratively and literally, after you landed on Onigashima you had been forced into a Beast Pirates Costume. The leash hung on the wall, right outside of the cell that was dug out of a rock wall facing a chair that the King of the Beasts often sat on while getting drunk. You weren’t completely alone, your captain being in the cell with you. 

Every once and a while, when the Beast Pirates had a party, you would be dragged out of the cell by your leash and paraded around with Kaido, usually attached to the arm of his chair or trailing behind him with the extra long leash hooked onto his belt. They would take the leash off and throw you into the cell, more often than not throwing you into your captain, who would break your fall. 

It was truly humiliating and every time you were brought back into the cell room you would see your captain’s look of pity before the expression shifted to a glare staring at whatever lackey brought you back into the room. It still shocked me to this day, as a newer member of the Kid Pirates, how protective Kid and the Commanders were of the female crew members. For the most part, they saw all of you as little sisters, the exception being Heat and myself. Of all the commanders, I saw Kid as the brother I never had. 

“If I had my powers, those bastards would be dead.” Kid grumbles quietly, shaking his wrist, seastone cuff clanking in the quiet dungeon. I huddled inside of his coat, the Beast Pirate Costume not keeping me warm whatsoever. He sighed and pulled me in closer. 

“I swear, I will get us out of here and get you back to Heat.” I nodded and drifted off to sleep against his arm. 

I was woken up harshly, with screaming and rustling surrounding me. I looked up from the ground, eyes still bleary from sleep, to see some of the Beast Pirates dragging Kid out forcefully. I stood up quickly, making to rush towards him when two more members stood in front of me, blocking my path. 

“You can’t go where he’s going Kaido's pet.” Beast Pirate #1 sneered out at me before backing out of the cell and slamming the door shut. 

“I’ll be back for you!” Kid shouted from across the room. 

“So stay alive until we get back, you got that punk?” Tears began running down my face, clouding my eyes further. I fell down to my knees, hunched over and tears spilling on the rocky floor. I was truly alone now. 

Time Skip to the Raid on Onigashima

It had been a hellish few weeks since Kid had been dragged out of the cell you shared. From overhearing conversations between the Beast Pirates is that Kid was brought to Udon prison and had since broken out. They also spoke of a Raid meant to happen tonight on an attempt on Kaido and Orochi’s life, but from the sounds of it they found out, ruining their plans.

Since it was the night of the Fire Festival, I was once again out on display, being made to kneel in front of Kaido’s chair, currently with all of the Tobiroppo all standing in front of me. Black Maria occasionally would lean down and coo at how ‘Sweet’ I was, asking Kaido if she could ‘keep me’. I shivered and kept my eyes staring forward. Her fake sweetness making my skin crawl. 

I tried not to pay attention to the conversation, not particularly interested in the whereabouts of Kaido’s son until I heard my name being mentioned. I noticed that the Tobi Roppi were gone, all that was left in the room was myself, Kaido, King, Jack and Queen. 

“Did you hear that pet?” Kaido leaned down closer to me, the stench of alcohol filling my senses. 

“I’m going to make my son the new Shogun of Wano, and you his pet.” He said with an evil grin as I looked up at him in shock. My blood went cold, where was Heat, where was Kid, the rest of my crew. I quickly looked back down to the ground, eyes clouding up with tears once again, tears I could not let fall.

Heat’s POV

“Where did you say they might be?” I asked Kid while we were running through the banquet hall, now thrown into chaos thanks to the strawhats. Kid turned towards me, fist curled 

“They're either in the dungeon or they are leashed up being paraded around by that bastard.” I turned towards my captain once more. 

“Paraded around?” Kid nodded. 

“That sick fuck has them on a leash and in one of those damn costumes.” My eye twitched slightly, and I moved my head looking around for that asshole as Kid continued.

“Because it’s a big gathering, they are likely hooked onto the arm of his chair, or if he’s walking around they are attached to his belt trailing behind him.” Kid glared ahead of him. 

“They always brought them back and just tossed them into the cell, never gave them anything but that damn costume to wear. Thankfully they didn’t take my coat away, kept her warm enough but I don’t know what happened to her after I was taken away to Udon prison.” He looked at me.

“I told her to stay alive, that we’d be back for her.” I nodded at Kid.

Reader’s POV

I was left alone in the room where Kaido sat when a green haired man rushed into the room. I stared in shock as he processed what was in front of him. 

“You OK?” I stared at him wide-eyed and shook my head.

“Are you one of them?” He asked, pointing at the logo on my costume. I shook my head again.

“Do you need me to get rid of that for you?” He asked, pointing towards my collar, which I nodded quickly at. 

“Please.” I whispered. He unsheathed one of his swords and lined it up with the leash attached to my collar. I pulled it tight, trying to get as far away from the sword as I could. I felt the pressure slack as he sliced through the metal cord. I sighed in relief at being able to move around freely. I stood up and stretched my legs. The green-haired man turned to walk away before he stopped and turned back to me.

“Do you know where the Banquet Hall is?” I blinked at him and nodded, getting in front of him to lead him down the path I walked many times. As we ran towards the hall in silence, I decided to risk a question.

“Are the Kid Pirates here?” I whispered, almost scared of his answer.

“Jaggy’s crew? Yeah.” He muttered. I smiled and kept silent for the rest of the run.

As we were almost to the Banquet Hall I noticed a fight happening ahead of us with a familiar head of light blue hair. I let out a cheer, alerting the man running beside me. 

“HEAT” I yelled out, I watched him turn around quickly, interrupting his conversation with the warlord Jimbe. His mouth stretched into a large smile.

“Flame!” He let out in a breathy whisper. He began running towards me, arms opening as he got closer. I jumped up and encircled my arms around his neck as he lifted me up, hands under my thighs and encouraged me to wrap my legs around his waist which I did. I nuzzled into the side of his neck and hugged him tighter. He pulled away from the hug and looked me over. 

“You OK? He didn’t hurt you too bad did he?” I shook my head as he let me back down on the floor. The green-haired man from before came up behind us, drawing Heat’s attention away from me for a second. His eyes narrowed at him and he tensed up, his grip on my waist getting tighter. I placed my hand on his chest, just above his heart, his eyes shifted back down to me.

“He cut my chains off. I was showing him to the Banquet Hall.” The tension Heat had in his shoulders visibly lightened and he turned to the man once more.

“Thanks man.” The green haired man grunted in response.

“What way is the Banquet Hall?” He addressed me. I pointed to the left.

“Down that hall, you can’t miss it.” He nodded and left quickly. I looked back up at Heat and hugged him once more. Heat’s hand came up and cupped my chin. 

“Stay with me, my Sweet Flame, don’t want to lose you again.” He mumbled before placing a soft kiss on my lips. I smiled into the kiss and laced my hands with his. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I squeezed his hand tighter.

“I promise.”

[teatreeoill]

|| Temptation (Satoru Gojo X Reader) ||

While hoping to be reinstated in the Jujutsu world, you meet with the teacher you had a crush on in your school days.

I wrote this while drunk, I think that says it all.

Image credits to user blueparadis.

-

"-Sensei?" Gojo chuckled, his long fingers reach his blindfold, holding it up to let one eye peek from under it. You take a seat across from him. "I was only your teacher for a year, and that was ages ago." He was right, of course, but the air of his office and the familiar smell of the chrysanthemum bushes outside the window had brought back too many memories of your last year at Jujutsu high; your mind had no trouble flashing the images of late nights and talks with your then best friends.

"I think I might fail this year," you'd laugh, covering your mouth with your hand, thinking it would hush your uncalled-for remarks you'd whisper in the middle of training sessions, "I mean what is he, a few years older than us?" On weekend nights, the few students in your grade would gather in one of the rooms, trying to muffle the 'tsssk' sound the opening of the drinks they managed to smuggle for these occasions would produce. At most of these gatherings the tougher subjects would be tactfully avoided, no talk about missions and curses, or mentions of horrible past incidents were allowed. There wasn't much left to chat about after the rules were unanimously established, and so most nights your classmates would group together laughing at the feelings you've managed to develop for your new teacher. The running joke had always made your cheeks flush red. "Oh, Gojo-Sensei, your eyes are so blue!" A boy from your class would make a lousy impression of your voice that would always elicit laughter from the group, "Oh, Gojo-Sensei, could you tutor me?" Even at that age, you liked to think that no one apart from your friends could observe the crush you've steadily developed. However, especially when hearing your whispers, your teacher had always felt that was an insult to his self-proclaimed skills of deduction. Gojo would make sure to pause his enthusiastic explanations to put a large hand on your shoulder just to watch you blush, and your classmates giggle. He was far too determined to take advantage of each lesson to bask in the feeling of your attentive gaze.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, "Old habits." His limbs are sprawled on the shiny leather of the chair as he talks ; "Are you thinking of returning to the Jujutsu world? If so, I think there are more suitable people to talk to." He noticed your gaze shifting downwards, he didn't mean any harm with his words, but you couldn't help but feel unwanted in the room. "I'm sorry to be a bother, I just thought that -" "Ah, I'm sorry. You probably just came to visit your old Sensei you use to crush on." He snickers. Getting up from his seat, he walks around the large desk, just to put a hand on your shoulder the way he remembered would make you blush. "What? I -," you struggle to find the words, your gaze still fixed on your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I - I never had a crush on you."

Your words seemed to him as a personal challenge. The determination to make you admit it exciting every cell in his body as he kneels before you, the grin widening on his face when he grabs your fidgeting hand to hold gently, the sudden touch making you raise your eyes to glance at him. He hardly changed, you thought, his mannerisms still as shameless as they were back then, his touch still making your stomach flutter. "Nothing to be ashamed about," He declares, "It was your last year, and this young, attractive man comes in -" "Gojo Se-" you stop yourself from saying the word that so easily excited him to go down this path, "Gojo, I'm really only here to talk my reinstatement."

His thumb moves slightly over the back of your hand, the walls of the room closed in on you when the heat from his hand ran straight to your head. "Sure," He lets out another small chuckle before putting on a serious expression, "Just as soon as you'll admit it." He watches your brows furrow. "I see you've learned nothing. The first rule of Jujutsu, is that honesty makes you more powerful," The snarky comment makes you cross your arms. You yank your hand back, the chair scratches the floor under you when you get up. "That's childish," You inhale a sharp breath, but his immaturity, as most spiteful characteristics, rubs off on you. "Might you be so stubborn because you're the one who had a crush on me?" You spew, stunned at your own unsophisticated comment.

"Who says I didn't?" He gets up from his knee to face you once again, his unwavering enthusiasm makes it hard to control your pent-up urge to both pull him to you, and shove him away. Huh?

"Never mind that," He suddenly says.

"What do you mean, never mind that?" You cock your head to the side, confused at the sudden change of heart he displayed. "I don't need you to admit it anymore," You watch the corners of his mouth twitch lightly before widening back to a broad grin, "You already did, little tomato." Your hands shot up to feel your own cheeks, the heat radiating to the palm of your hands. You were sure you looked like you've just ran a marathon. "Alright, little tomato, you can ask about the other things now," He smiles, leaning back on his desk. A thought crosses your head that even Alexander the Great didn't beam like that when bringing the Persian Empire to its knees.

"Don't call me that," you protest. With each response he'd evoke from you, he'd find himself more captivated, seizing the moment to push himself off of the desk only to stand closer to you. "Why not, little tomato?" He'd found himself too fond of the new nickname, his face so close to yours you couldn't ignore it if you tried. His blindfold sat peacefully at the crook of his neck, his hair splayed on his forehead, eyes agonizing to look at; looking half at you and half through you.

The childish-like oblivious manner of your feelings had disappeared as soon as his lips brushed on yours, the pit of your stomach spinning and swirling at the fantasies you thought you've left behind years ago. He snorted a little when you pressed your lips against his, his hands impulsively gripping your thighs. He groans between the kisses; "I really see I've taught you nothing, little tomato," He murmured, "The second rule is never letting your opponent know he's got the upper hand."

[acheronist]

woah it seems like i missed the first eleven words of your post but in spite of that would it be okay if i asked about what you think thomas armitage and henry peglar spent four years doing while they were sailing around the equator on the gannet together

LET THE RECORD SHOW THAT IT IS THE YEAR IS 1834. it's also early april. cool and crisp but sunny one could assume. we are boarding the hms gannet (an 18 gun brig-sloop), and we are signed on for four years, sailing across the atlantic and then working in service of the british navy in north america + the west indies. henry peter peglar was born in 1812 and is at this point twenty two years of age. thomas middlename armitage is born in 1805 . much less information about thomas is readily available to me so we're really entering crazygirl speculation, but we know he's at least 28 but probably closer to 29. i love it when the least problematic thing about a couple is their age difference.

i don't know what thomas was up to, besides allegedly being married for eight years and having some kids and then fucking off to the navy instead of being a father (closeted deadbeat dad backstory? married young just to appease family backstory? lavender marriage backstory?) but in the last few year before this henry had: worked under a captain who was notorious for lashing his men, said Yikes this guy sucks i don't want to be lashed, wrote for a discharge, got on a new boat. new boat was captained by the same crazed captain as before, so he bailed again, and ended up on a ship he'd previously been on before, and then got lashed for being drunk and mutinous under the old-new captain anyways. my poor boy. the takeaway from this is when he's getting onto the gannet as captain of the foretop, his shoulders are covered in barely healed over scars.

good news is tho he got a promotion!!!! a few, technically!! henry's captain of the foretop, now, and likely spends his days up in the ropes and rigging, climbing around and fixing the sails. he's good at this and does an excellent job. this is also his first time as a senior petty officer aboard a ship, plus he was acting as coxswain AND working gunner crew when necessary. (shoutout to his childhood in his dad's gunsmithing workshop)

thomas armitage is rated as an AB right now iirc, and with only so many men aboard, surely their paths must begin to cross. thomas has got a pretty good coverstory of Marriage, but henry's never had any romantic affairs recorded thus far and has been pretty career focused for most of his life so far as far as i can tell. oh you've been in the navy since puberty? mm. mhm. okay.

well anyways no one would blink twice at some fellow crewmates who run in the same social circles sharing a meal every now and then. lots of people do that. and henry likes to write, has always liked to write and keep a journal! the atlantic is clear and beautiful but to make good pace, henry doesn't get the time to write until late into the evenings. men aboard see him writing constantly in his spare time, and he gets a reputation for it. once, maybe during a meal, the ships boys nervously ask him if he'd mind helping them with their letters. he laughs and says his spellings not very good, he's not much of a teacher, always been a sailor, but he'll help of course, if they'd like that. thomas can't help but overhear and remembers how it felt to sign his marriage certificate to cecelia with an X, not even able to scratch his own name out across the line. maybe that was better though, he hadn't really signed anything, and it felt like he wasn't truly tied to her, not in a way that was real. marriage consummated, sure, but he didn't know his children. wasn't in their lives. much preferred the company of his fellow sailors, the ease and routine of a crowded ship. sent most of his money home, of course, and never saw them. couldn't send any letters home, couldn't read any letters that managed to reach him, either.

still, if someone aboard was offering to teach, maybe it'd be worthwhile to speak to him more. try and learn. so he strikes up a friendship with mr. peglar. easy easy easy. he's funny, he's clever. gets silly after too much drink, freckles easily under the clear sunlight, works hard and his company is pleasant. he's strong and competent and good at his job-- jobs-- and there's not much to dislike about him. lots of men like him, but even on the hottest days as they sail south, when men strip down to their skins, henry still walks about the decks with his shirt buttoned all the way up. it's a nice thing to see-- thomas has always appreciated it when a shirt is well worn. when a uniform is respected and kept in order. you understand, of course.

so maybe, on a quiet night, one where henry's lingering up in the crow's nest with his pages again, tom gets the nerve to climb up. scares the hell of out henry on accident, and they both laugh it off. make room for each other in the cramped space. talk about the view, the waves and how they stretch out to the horizon, clear and gorgeous. tom hadn't realized the height would make such a difference. henry agrees, explains its part of why he likes to hide up in the heights of the ropes so often. they talk, and talk, and talk until the stars come out. tom doesn't even remember that he crawled up the ropes in the first place to ask henry if he could teach him to write, not until theyre both down on deck and henry's folded his pencil and papers away.

anyways... henry's often busy-- working. always working. its hard to pin him down but thomas begins to seek him out. gets scant minutes of each day to grip his shoulder, friendly-- NORMAL-- and smile. talk. nothing salacious-- of course not, one has to be careful aboard ships lest he wants rumors to start. but still. when henry begins seeking him out as well, it's a good feeling. sometimes the sun shines so bright and thomas gets to crane his neck up, picking out henry's dark silhouette against the blue sky and gets a few seconds to watch him work in the rigging.

and finally the ship gets a land break. a short one, mind, but a break nonetheless. the ship's docked in trinidad, henry practically begs thomas to join him off to a party. friends of someone on board throwing the whole thing over on the beachfront. spoke awful loud about it that morning, so it's not quite an open invitation, but seems informal enough that if they arrive at the right time, no one will notice they hadn't been properly invited. thomas wasn't expected to get drunk under the table like this, but apparently henry's much better at handling his alcohol, and its late-- or very early, depending-- when they finally stumble back out to the beach. its cooler out here and its lovely-- dark and salty and sweet and exotic. thomas hadn't ever been to a party like this. he has to twist his fingers into henry's shirt collar to keep upright, and maybe that's the first time he properly notices the lines of scars peeking out from below the collar. wouldn't ever see them if he hadn't pulled henry's shirt out of sorts while they stumbled over the sand-- giggling like boys and splashing barefoot along the shoreline before they returned to the gannet. and thomas wouldn't bring it up no no no that's far too forward especially because it wasn't something he was meant to see anyways but he keeps it in mind. he keeps it sooo in mind he kind of begins to suck at his job once daylight and the hangover hit him because all he can focus on is wondering how far down henry's back the scars go. what he could have possibly done to be lashed in the first place.

so he doesn't ask. he doesn't ask and he doesn't think about it, just struggles through the alphabet that henry has him copying down and thomas kind of hates himself but he copies his shaky letters down and does his job and keeps a nice distance but still... if he takes every meal with henry across the table then that's fine. they have to go over thomas's terrible alphabet practices and have a billion other things to talk about .

and the gannet moves along, so does thomas. so does henry. and its all well until the ships docks again-- cumana this time, and some men get permission to leave the ship. they'll be back on the sea again for a long while after this so the officers aboard allow it and henry just wants to walk so thomas is fine to walk with him. and it wasn't like they'd planned to find a party again, this just seems to be a joyful part of the world. and it's hosted by some americans this time, so they don't even need to struggle with the language barrier too badly! and thomas tries not to drink so much, wants to be there to take care of henry this time. and stays in the back a bit-- watches henry become best of friends with these strangers and he sings and dances alongside them, and isn't it nice how his face lights up when he spots thomas still there against the wall, so unabashedly pleased that he'd not disappeared while henry hadn't been paying attention!! and well maybe henry stumbles out of the crowd and pulls thomas into the thick of it, his hands all warm from the weather here and calloused from work and a bit sticky from spilled drinks, and brings thomas into the crowd to dance. and gets thomas to sing too because when everyone else is loud, no one really notices them specifically, and its okayyy its okay! its okay. theyre nobody here, it barely matters. just come dance. and thomas does follow after him and he does sing and he does dance. and they rent a room for a few hours before anyone notices they've not made it back to the gannet yet, and thomas gets to peel henry out of his clothes and do up every single button again after, like they'd never been undone in the first place. glances around the room one last time, and couldn't believe henry nearly left his wallet on the bureau top-- tucked it back into henry's pockets himself before they left minutes apart to avoid suspicion. but they got away with it which is THRILLING. and they keep on like this-- a cycle of working with their heads down and indulging away from the ship when they could manage it. halfheartedly teaching thomas his letters, which never quite sticks but that's alright, and seeing the sights and wonders every day, side by side, seeing the turtles swim slowly by and basking together in the heat and excitement of a new place with a strong sense of anonymity.

and its two and a half more years of this, of catching each other's eye between the ropes and Knowing it'll never last, things like this never do, but isn't it nice to have it now? and it's two and a half more years of this, and thomas does get to see the long, gnarled scars that trace down over henry's shoulders and spine, once, twice, three times, more and more until he begins to lose track. and its two and a half more years of secreting affections away up in the crows nest at strange hours when no one would notice. and its two and a half more days until they both get their discharges and the gannet docks again at sheerness and they hadn't talked about it, about what's next, because isn't it obvious? there's nothing next. this wasn't more than an affair, but it was a lovely one. it might even be one that hurts forever.

and it's february 1838 when they meet up at a pub in kent-- thomas kissed cecelia's cheek before he'd and said he was off for a pint with a friend-- and it's in a crowded pub when henry has to lean in across the table to tell him he's signed onto hms temeraire, just because he can't bear to stay in one spot. not anymore, loves the sea far too much to be on shore for very long. and thomas has to tell him that's good-- that's best for him. has to tell him to be careful in the ropes, he won't be there to watch out for him this time. and henry knows better than to ask if there's an address he could write to-- thomas wouldn't give that, and thomas wouldn't be able to write back either way. he'd still never gotten the hang of making his letters blend together gracefully into words, not in the way that henry always could. so they shake hands, fingers digging in a little bit too tightly, until they let go and that's all. thomas armitage and henry peglar go on their separate ways, resigned to the fact that they'll likely never see each other again.

and its seven years until they DO see each other again, running into each other, completely unexpected. isn't it so odd? isn't it so funny how things work out like that? do you think fate's real? well it must be, surely the navy's bigger than this to just be happenstance. they both needed jobs again at the same time, is all. heard the same rumors about john franklin's arctic expedition, whispers of optimism trickling down to even the most common gossiping circles of sailors. both couldn't resist the idea of it. both walked the chatham dockyard with their things in tow, keeping an eye out for hms terror, talking again as if no time had passed, about what to expect from the sandwich islands, if it'd be at all like the west indies... and well, they might be, once they make it that far.

who can really say, though. they're older this time. it'd be different, surely. maybe it'd just be best to be pleased for a friendship-- a more steady, meaningful companionship as they got through the passage. who can say. who could know.

[ask-icancraft-it]

Vanilla

(( A slightly NSFW short story, which alludes to a definitely NSFW fic I wrote a while back: 'Plus One'. A somewhat drunk Felix lets some things slip about his early days in the arcade. ))

---

“Alright,” Tamora interjected, taking another swig of her beer. The Niceland New Year’s party had wrapped hours ago, and all who remained sitting among the streamers and bits of confetti were her, Ralph, and Felix. Vanellope was also present, but had fallen asleep some time ago. 

Sitting up to place her drink on the coffee table, the sergeant had a pink hue on her face as she formulated her next question. Ralph had already turned towards her on the adjacent couch, but Felix remained still, head on the armrest, looking close to joining Vanellope in dreamland.

“You two have been around for thirty-something years–”

“Thirty-three,” Fix-It muttered.

“Right. You’ve been around for thirty-something years; you’ve seen it all…Who takes the title of sexiest man in the arcade.”

“These questions are feeling more and more like we’re high schoolers at a slumber party,” Ralph chuckled. He was buzzed, but in far better shape than the couple. “I’m going to have to think…”

“Luigi,” Felix mumbled upwards to the ceiling, pulling the brim of his cap up from over his eyes. “No contest.”

“No contest— are you kidding me?” Ralph looked dead into the handyman’s sleepy eyes. “Luigi?”

“Yyyep,” Felix replied smugly with a pop. 

“Yeah, well, I guess that figures. He’s seems just about as vanilla as you.” A defiant laugh rumbled in the fixer’s chest. “Oh, Ralph…Vanilla may be my favorite flavor of cake, but not my taste in pixels.”

The wrecker opened his mouth for another retort before a tiny cushion collided with his face.

Across the way, Tamora held another pillow at the ready.

“Elaborate,” she commanded, leaning towards her husband. She was very interested in what he had to say.

“Honey, that man can touch you in ways that will make you feel like the most special person in the world, and he’ll do it all while serenading you in Italian. He is unbelievably sexy…what?”

As he spoke, Felix caught Ralph and Tamora’s wide-eyed stares.

“Well that all seems very specific,” Wreck-It smiled, wagging his eyebrows. “I think you may have a biased opinion.”

“N-no, I don’t!” Felix’s face turned bright red, realizing just how revealing his explanation was. 

“More like an informed opinion,” Tamora joined in on the ribbing. Embarrassing the handyman was a pastime she and Ralph would regularly bond over. “He take good care of your pipes, Fix-It?”

“It was a long time ago…” he admitted, delighting his companions.

“Wait…what about Daisy?” Ralph questioned. “I thought she and Luigi have been a thing since forever.”

“She was there too.”

“What?!” Ralph was aghast. “Both!? At the same time?!”

“It was the 80’s…” Felix chuckled. “Not so vanilla now, am I?”

“I could have told him that,” Tamora raised her eyebrows and took another sip of her beer. “Time’s up, Wreck-It; your answer?”

The wrecker’s face flushed as he wrung his large hands. “Zangief…”

“Oh, talk about a bias,” the sergeant cackled, knowing full and well the crush Ralph has on the Street Fighter. 

“Shut up,” the large man growled. “You asked for our opinions; he’s hot, alright?”

“He is,” Felix smiled, nodding. “You’ve got great taste, brother.”

Ralph squinted at the handyman, dubious. “Is there something else you’d like to tell us? Should I be worried?”

Felix shrugged, ending off with a playful wink as he pulled the brim of his cap back over his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” the wrecker mouthed to Calhoun as the handyman settled back into the couch cushions. What bothered him the most was that he didn’t know if the little guy was pulling his leg or not, given what he’d learned. Who was this person, and what had he done to the innocent good guy who danced the night away just hours before? 

All Tamora could offer up was a shrug of her own, a hearty chuckle escaping her lips as her husband began to snore.