#I'm in such an emotional state that this chapter really might make me cry

[llycaons]

Wei Ying was the youngest, so he prepared tea while servants brought food.

even this work obviously written by someone without a lot of experience had research and care put into it...what's the excuse of the rest of these bitches

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (3)

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, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 12.2k+ 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: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), talks of bad parental relationships, abandonment issues, some PTSD, prescription medication use, mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, writing this is so comforting even when its angsty lol, i think that's it, let me know if I missed something A/N: Hello hello. Probably my favorite chapter to date. Bad news is that I think this series might be a little longer than originally intended. My inability to just get to the point has things moving a little slow, but I'm trying my best. We'll have to see, though! Hope you enjoy reading :)

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Time went by quickly. Wednesday and Friday morning, Jimin and I met up to train for a few hours and then got breakfast together. When he asked if I wanted to work out with him in the evenings, I agreed. In the beginning, I had given him pointers, but after the second week came to a close, we had started exercising in silence. We spotted one another, made small talk, and went to dinner on the nights he did not go home to be with his parents. We got along and I was happy my overwhelming attraction to him had slowly calmed down.

I was still aware of his presence, the way he smelled, and how often he smiled and laughed, but I had grown used to seeing him walking around in barely anything at all. Hoseok called me a cougar whenever we had time to chat while Andy kept telling me to talk with Jimin about how I felt, but I had gotten very good at deflecting. Things were better and I was taking my wins whenever I could get them. Even if those wins meant I went home sexually frustrated and aching for someone to make it better.

Jimin was packing up for the night and I was getting ready to head out. He had plans with a large group of his friends, so I would have to figure out dinner by myself this time. He invited me but I politely declined. I could vaguely recall how rude his friends from that restaurant had been, and that one girl's mean glare. I had no interest in repeating that.

Giselle waved at me on her way out which I returned with a smile. She was a very sweet, college girl and getting to know her was fun. Her brother moved out here six years ago and was the only reason she left Memphis. In-State tuition and a rent-free bedroom was all it took to convince her to spend some quality time with her big brother and his dog, Lucky.

She and Sam were the closest, but I would often see her eating lunch with Megan when he was with a client. Everyone was making bets on when they would eventually hook up, but I was convinced that had already happened and they were keeping it a secret from the nosy staff.

"See you tomorrow," Yoongi called out from across the room, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

He was out of eyesight before I could reply.

"Bye Yoon," Giselle sing-songed anyway, shoving her ear buds in and leaving before the door could close behind Yoongi. "Night guys!"

As the young woman said, Yoongi and Megan were the two most important people to befriend. Not just for massages either. The both of them were hilarious and kept the back fridge stocked with our favorite snacks. On the mornings I did not have time to eat breakfast, Megan stopped and got me a muffin and coffee from her favorite cafe. If I needed someone to help me out in the pool, Yoongi was always happy to offer himself for the job. It was challenging for me to focus on my swimming when Jimin was around, and I would often come in early to get a quick work out in before he got here.

“You okay getting home?” Jimin asked.

We had come together tonight, and he had offered to drive us in his truck. I had grown very fond of the green machine, which Jimin affectionately called Fiona, and I jumped at the chance to get in his passenger seat. We were usually riding around in my car since it was better on gas.

“Yeah, I’m riding with Sam.”

Sam and I had grown close as well. He was super funny and always down to hang out with me if I showed up by myself. On the odd Sunday I felt like getting out of the house, I found myself at the gym with Sam. I was currently attempting to teach him how to swim and always filled in for Yoongi on the weekends.

Jimin nodded, “Good. See you this weekend?”

I smiled, “Can’t miss your big party.”

Jimin’s 24th birthday was on the 13th and his family liked to go big. Eloise was clearing out an entire section in their restaurant for all of us, and I had found myself teamed up with Taehyung to help with the planning. Na-Yeon put everything in his hands since she was not feeling up to the task this year. I only agreed to help when I realized just how overboard the snowboarder would go if no one was there to reel him back in. So far, I had placed the responsibility of decorating, music, and organizing the gift table on my shoulders. James had pulled me aside and thanked me when he found out. Apparently, he was also worried about Taehyung’s enthusiasm. 

“It should be fun,” He nodded. “I’m going to head out.”

“See you tomorrow,” We had finally started coming 5 days a week. "We're working on your turns. Butterflies, too. Be prepared.”

He groaned, “You’re torturing me, coach.”

I laughed, “Is the baby upset?”

“Very,” He winked. My mouth went dry. Sometimes I felt silly for getting nervous around him, especially when I knew he flirted with everyone. I was not special. “See you Saturday.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled as I stared at his retreating back. “See you.”

Jimin’s birthday passed quietly. We had a great time and ate well. Taehyung got drunk enough to suggest karaoke once we cleared out the place for the night, and he and Na-yeon had all of us cracking up. I finally met Jungkook’s girlfriend, a pretty girl who did not talk very much, and I could feel the tension between the two of them. Jimin said that was just how they were and to ignore it.

After Jungkook successfully shoved Jimin's face into his cake, we opened presents. The boys got him tons of workout clothes and gear, Eloise bought him a new blender, and his parents both chipped in to get the new video game he had been talking about picking up.

I gifted him a bottle of his favorite cologne after Na-Yeon mentioned he was out. Jo Malone was the most distracting thing in my life right now, its scent clinging to the passenger side of my car most days and driving me insane if Jimin stood too close. Still, it was something I did not think I could part with now. Jimin was happy with the present and hugged me after opening it. I was positive I had this stupid grin on my face for the rest of the night.

By Halloween we were in the gym every day, save Sunday and the occasional Saturday when Jimin needed some time to rest. We both kept our word, our conversation at the restaurant we went to with Jungkook and Taehyung sticking better than I thought it would. Overtime he got more confident when asking for a break and I was a professional at picking up on his body language. We were a good team, and I was confident he would be in great shape for the Olympics.

It was mid-November now and Taehyung had finally gotten around to getting us together for the sushi date in Detroit. I had just gotten out of the shower when Jimin messaged he was going to come along. His mom had a rough Sunday and could not go to their usual dance class, so he had stayed with her instead. He looked worn out when he walked inside the pool room Monday morning so instead of training, I just sent him home. We were meeting back up on Wednesday to get back to work, but it seemed Jungkook’s nagging finally convinced him to come out with the rest of us.

My relationships with his friends had also started to improve. Taehyung had added me to their group chat a few weeks back and I had tried to keep up with them as often as I could remember to. It was not difficult. They text so often I had to silence notifications for the chat, but I had to admit they were really funny. Jungkook especially.

I was happy to spend time with everyone and getting out of the house sounded nice. Violet and Calvin were great, and I did enjoy eating dinner with them sometimes, but I would be lying if I said they would be my first choice to spend time with.

I had grown close enough with Taehyung during the partying planning that his bubbly, over the top personality had become more endearing than overwhelming. We had gone to lunch a few times together, his boldness only increasing with each meet up, and he could hold me hostage for hours if I let him. Milo was typically my saving grace, and Taehyung would leave with a wet kiss to my cheek and promises of the same time next week.

Tae: Y/N should pick you up

Jimin: Why???

Kookie: Your truck is ass

I chuckled and sent off a text of my own before going to my dresser to find something warm to wear. 

Me: I don’t mind driving

Me: Don’t hate on the truck. I like it.

My phone chimed a few times but I ignored it for now. I knew I wanted to wear a pair of dark, navy jeans. It was freezing outside so a long sleeve was a must, but I could get away with just two layers. My hands found a mustard-yellow turtleneck and I smiled. I could wear my brown boots with it. Happy with my outfit, I checked on the chat.

Jimin: U sure?

Tae: The truck is GREEN

Tae: Already a crime

Kookie: It can’t go over 60

Darcy: omg stop blowing my phone up 

Darcy: just ride with her dude

Jimin: Y/N?

I rolled my eyes. I hated when he did that. Jimin had the habit of double and triple checking in with someone. It was sweet but it also drove me insane. There was nothing more I disliked than repeating myself, especially if I already agreed to something. 

Me: I’ll pick you up in 30, k?

Jimin: Thanks

Darcy: Was that so hard?

I frowned. So, Darcy was in a bad mood then. Shouldn't take it out on Jimin, I thought. Even if she was having a bad day, something that seemed to be a reoccurring theme with her, it doesn't mean she can just talk to people like that. Fighting the urge to give into my annoyance and call her out, I tossed my phone on my bed and made myself finish getting ready.

Walking into the living room, I went on a hunt for the jacket I wanted to wear. It was the same color as my leather boots with sherpa trim. It would tie everything together and, I hoped, would keep Taehyung from complaining too much about the “offensive” color of my shirt. He had a hard time accepting anything in the yellow or green family. Finding it on the sofa, I nodded and left it be. I would grab it on my way out. 

It took me more time to get my hair figured out than anything, but once I gave up and did the same thing that I did every day, it worked itself. After that, I put on a little bit of makeup since I figured it would not take me very long. This was a casual outing with friends and the dim lights of the sushi place would give me some grace if things were not perfect. A nice base, simple eye look, and a layer of mascara already had me looking more awake than I had in months. After applying a layer of lip gloss and a misting of setting spray, I was out of the door, jacket keeping me warm, and purse tucked under my arm. 

I drove in silence, like I always did, and pulled onto the curb of Jimin’s house. Sending a text to the chat, I waited for him to come out. I was a few minutes later than I said I would be, but Jimin found a way to be late for everything, so I did not feel that bad about it. Taehyung and Milo were already on leaving Ann Arbor, and Jungkook and Darcy riding with them. They would only beat us there by fifteen minutes or so, but I hoped he would hurry up and come outside. Taehyung worked hard for those reservations.

My phone vibrated and I stared at the little device in my cup holder. It was weird how my anxiety fluctuated on a daily basis. Back home, I could talk on the phone and hold a conversation behind the wheel, but ever since I came to Michigan it felt like I had taken three massive steps back. Taking a few deep breaths, I told myself that I was safe. I was parked, completely stationary, and no one was around. No traffic meant no accidents. Sucking in a harsh breath, I picked it up.

Jimin: Be out in a sec

Jimin: Just making sure mom is okay

He had not left his mother’s house in days. I was worried about Na-Yeon, but I had to believe that Jimin would tell me if something was seriously wrong with her. I had truly started to feel connected with the woman. We joked over dinner and I found myself helping her out more and more each time I came by. It would devastate me if she passed away without me knowing how bad it had gotten. 

Me: Take your time

He came out only two minutes later. Wearing a heavy, black puffy jacket and tight pants, Jimin leisurely walked over and got into the car. His cologne hit me as soon as the door opened, and I bit my lip, trying to hide the deep inhale I took. Jo fucking Malone.

He smiled at me but otherwise kept quiet as I drove. He knew I had a difficult time behind the wheel and tried his best to keep conversation light. While I normally appreciated the sentiment, I did not want to make him sit in silence for 45 minutes. Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I struggled to come up with a good conversation topic.

We often bounced from idea to idea, mostly sticking to swimming and music, and I always found our little talks to be very insightful. Movies and tv shows had been fun to bond over, a small generational gap introducing us to shit we had never heard of before. There were so many things I could bring up, things that Jimin would jump at the idea to talk about. Still, I could not find my voice.

“So,” I started, awkwardly, trying to push past the blockade of anxiety. “Is this place as good as Tae says or is he going off on one of his rants again?”

Jimin chuckled softly. “It’s pretty good, but it’s still just sushi. Taehyung finds a way to make everything sound extravagant.”

We shared a quiet laugh. 

“It was nice of him to invite me,” My hands gripped the wheel tighter. We were starting to approach more populated areas. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Jimin snorted childishly, the sound relaxing me ever so slightly. If there was one thing I hated was driving at night. I was lucky the snow had stopped falling yesterday afternoon and the roads were clear, but a part of me wished I had asked Jimin to drive.

Traffic in Saline was lighter than any town back in Colorado, and driving around was a breeze in comparison. At home, you were lucky if there was only one accident a day, but more times than not I had been stuck on the interstate for hours because of multiple car crashes. Michigan felt less hectic; safer. Not safe enough to let my guard down, but safe enough to listen to Jimin when he spoke.

“Taehyung is just that kind of guy.”

I nodded; eyes glued to the road. I wanted to say something and keep our conversation flowing, but the more cars around us the more I tuned him out. My eyes flickered between my rearview mirror, side mirrors, and windshield rapidly as I drove. Once we were out of Saline and on I-94, I loosened my grip on the wheel. We would not hit much traffic until we were closer to Detroit.

Jimin stayed quiet and looked out the window. I wanted to thank him for being so understanding, but I knew he would not want me to. I kept my thoughts to myself and focused on the road. Jimin began to hum an unfamiliar tune.

My hands were shaking when we pulled up to the restaurant. Traffic had gotten pretty bad coming into the city, but we had picked a good day to come out. Jimin hummed and sang underneath his breath for most of the car ride, and we had a few small sporadic conversations when I felt the knots in my stomach loosen for a few brief moments.

"It's been forever since I've come here," Jimin said to himself, going to unbuckle his seat belt. "It looks pretty filled up."

Bash was a sushi place across from Wayne State University's football field and was one Taehyung’s favorite restaurants. He bragged about how delicious their food was for weeks before finally wearing me down with the promise of picking up the tab. He made reservations for their omakase, or “chef’s choice,” and promised I would get his obsession.

When I talked to Megan about it, she had said it was an expensive meal, so I was going to try and force myself to enjoy it regardless of my own personal feelings. Jimin seemed to like it here, and we usually enjoyed a lot of the same foods, so it made me feel a bit better about things.

I had to park down the street and spotted Taehyung’s Mazda a few cars away. Instead of getting out, I took a few moments to gather my composure. Jimin sat beside me patiently. He had grown used to my traffic anxiety. We had driven together so many times now, and he had gotten a taste of the worst of it a handful of times.

He had only asked about it the first time we rode to the gym together, completely frazzled and unsure of himself as I hyperventilated in the driver's seat. My hands trembled violently as my palms sweat profusely, and I let myself shed a few tears once we were parked. He reached out, placing a hand on my back, and quietly asked me what was bothering me.

“Red light,” I managed to wheeze out. They were doing some construction on the main road and things started piling up. I had gotten stuck in the intersection for just a few seconds, but it was long enough to send me into a blind panic. “Anxiety. Sorry. Need a minute.”

He helped me calm down, calming down to help me through my panic attack. We played a game of I-Spy, Jimin picking out the most obvious shit and saying the most random things to point out in order to make me laugh. When I felt a little better, he got out of the car to help me get out. After that he kept quiet about my obvious driving discomforts, but stuck close just in case I needed the support, and always offered to drive.

“Ready?” He asked when I grabbed my phone out of the cup holder.

“Yeah.”

We walked inside and the hostess made light conversation while she walked us to the back. Taehyung's laugh could be heard from the other side of the room, and his bright blue hair and vibrant eyeshadow stuck out like a sore thumb in this place. Milo was dressed in all black, his arm draped around his fiancé's shoulder, and a smile on his face. Jungkook was beside him scrolling through his phone, but Darcy was nowhere in sight. Glancing at Jimin, he seemed exasperated.

“Trouble in paradise,” He murmured, leaning down so I could hear him. I had to imagine their relationship was very exhausting and took its toll on their friend group. I knew how much it sucked being caught between Tilly and Hobi back in the day. “Here we fucking go.”

Taehyung jumped out of the booth when he caught sight of us, his fluffy, white cropped top riding up, revealing even more of his tanned skin. The snowboarder wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled my hairline, showering me in compliments. Gold hoop earrings tapped my forehead, and his belly button ring was cold against my ribcage. He was happy to see me “dolled up” for once and forgave how ugly my shirt was since I looked “so cute.”

Milo gave me a slight wave, eyes never leaving Taehyung's bouncing body as he embraced Jimin, and Jungkook put his phone down to greet us. Darcy had gone to the bathroom and from the look on Milo’s face, Jimin’s was right about trouble in paradise. Whatever was going on, we were all about to fall witness. It made my stomach churn just thinking about it.

Our waitress brought a new pot of tea, asking us if we needed anything, before leaving with the promise of the first course coming out soon. Darcy almost slammed into the poor woman on her way back to our booth, her annoyed huff making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When she sat down beside her boyfriend her entire body was rigged and face pulled together tightly. She did not spare us a glance as she sulked.

Darcy was a very beautiful girl and it made sense why Jungkook liked her so much. Tanned skin, green eyes, and black hair, the girl had one of those bodies most women would pay thousands of dollars for. Like Taehyung had said, she was a pleasant enough person, and we did not along well enough to hold a conversation, but there was no hiding the fact that Darcy was not a nice girl. In fact, I would venture to say she was very, very mean.

I saw it firsthand at Jimin’s birthday party. I had a moment where I felt myself panicking. Overwhelmed with all of the noise and people, I excused myself and called Andy to get my head back on straight. The women's restroom was tucked away in a small hallway and allowed me the space to shed a few tears. I was just starting to calm down, Andy's words of encouragement getting back to some sort of baseline, while I rubbed cold water on my neck. That was when I heard Jungkook on the other side of the door.

He was angry and when I told Andy I needed to go, I had every intention of going out there to talk to him, but another voice beat me to it. Darcy had been in a bad mood since she walked through the front door, her shitty attitude bringing down the party every time she opened her mouth. At first, I just brushed it off as an off night, something I could feel empathy towards, but then she opened her mouth and stopped those thoughts in their tracks.

The two of them were serial cheaters, and Jimin had alluded to that being their main issue when I asked about her attitude problem earlier that night. Eloise was the person who gave me the whole story and was not afraid to voice her dislike for the older girl. This was different from Milo, a guy who she clashed with due to their night and day personalities. Darcy had actively picked on and made fun of her growing up, and bullied her older sister while they were in school together.

Darcy, according to Eloise, started the back-and-forth cheating when they were in college. Instead of going their separate ways, something I doubt anyone would have blamed Jungkook for doing, he chose to get even. After fucking one of her sorority sisters, Jungkook made his way through the entire house within the span of three months. In retaliation, Darcy slept with a couple of guys from the NHL, something she still did to this day.

On the night of the party, she was still fuming over catching him with another woman a few days prior. Trapped in the bathroom and too afraid to let them know I could hear them; I suffered through five minutes of a couple’s quarrel I had no business being in the middle of. It was an eye opener for sure and made me avoid getting too close to either of them.

Darcy was very mean and spiteful, her words meant to cut him deeply with little care about how it would make him feel in the long run. She even brought up screwing one of his rivals to get back at him, something she had done on numerous occasions, and went as far as to compare the two men in bed. It helped to explain why Jungkook hated Jackson Wang so much.

Jungkook, despite how much I enjoyed him as an individual, was just as awful. He spent most of the argument defending his bad behavior by bringing up her own and took no accountability for his actions. He could have sex with all of Michigan and it would be justified because she cheated on him first. It was all very juvenile, and I tried my best to avoid them for the rest of the night.

“Bet they can’t go ten minutes without fighting,” Jimin mumbled in my ear.

I fought back a smile, leaning into his side. Physical touch was the swimmer’s love language and I had slowly grown accustomed to small touches here and there. So, it did not catch me off guard when his arm came around my shoulders, resting just above my head, hand gently brushing against my neck. The voice in my head often wished he would do it more often.

“She won’t start something before the food gets here,” I reasoned, stealing a look at the couple. Jungkook seemed fine, but from the look on Darcy’s face that might change soon. “I’ll say twenty.”

“What are we bargaining for?”

I laughed awkwardly, “Whatever you want.”

Taking a second to think, Jimin eyed the couple across the table. Taehyung and Milo were obviously extremely aware of the couple's awkward tension and tactfully ignored them, instead giggling about some inside joke. They were a very sweet pair. My weariness about Milo had dissipated over the last few weeks, but I could understand why he and Eloise could not get along.

Lou herself had admitted to being a bit of a stuck-up teenager back in the day, and Milo was the typical small-town stoner. They constantly butt heads when they were in high school, and just drifted apart with age. Taehyung and Jimin's friendship were the only reason they were in the same circle anymore, and the two just never spoke to avoid pressing buttons.

“I want to do something together,” Jimin finally said, I smiled, trying to ignore the snarky comments Darcy was making. The arguing was starting, and I felt my neck growing hot. Did they have to do this in public? “Get dinner or something.”

“We do that all the time,” I countered, half-heartedly paying attention to him.

“Denny’s doesn’t count," He mumbled.

The waitress finally came back with a large tray of sushi in her hand. That seemed to break up the argument momentarily, but Darcy did not seem pleased to be interrupted. Stuffing a large piece of ahi sashimi in my mouth, I sparked up a conversation with Taehyung to keep myself from having another meltdown. Beside him, Milo sent me a grateful look.

The rest of the table was silent, waiting for the fight to resume. Taehyung kept smiling painfully, but I could see the panic bubbling in his eyes, and for once I saw a small crack in his otherwise well-crafted facade. 

“I didn’t mean just getting food,” Jimin finally continued when we hit a lull, and it took me a few seconds to remember what he was talking about. “I meant… going out.”

I looked at him, eyebrow raised. His cheeks were puffed with scallops and I wished we were alone. This was not a conversation I wanted to have in front of the others, especially if he was insinuating what I thought he was. I did not want to jump to conclusions, but I was sure he was asking me out on a date. Even if it made me feel jittery thinking about it, I had a difficult time finding the voice to say yes. Saying no felt just as impossible, though, and I wished he would have picked a better time to bring this up. Whatever the hell this was.

“What are you asking me?” I whispered, taking another piece of fish off my plate, sneaking a look at Taehyung and Milo.

They were too wrapped up in one another to being listening in on us. I did not even bother checking in with the other two. I knew for a fact they did not care about anybody else but themselves.

“You know,” He replied.

Dating was not off the table, and I was more than happy to indulge myself, but I was worried about crossing this invisible line I had drawn. What would people say if they found out? A coach and her trainee, and even worse, the older woman and her much younger man. I could see the headlines now and it made my palms sticky. That would not be a good look for either one of us, and I did not want our personal relationship to affect Jimin’s career.

Putting my chopsticks down, I leaned away from him. “Can we talk about this later?”

He nodded, meeting my eyes, and I was relieved to see he was not upset. I had seen him angry a few times now, and he wore it on his sleeve with pride. Jimin was not afraid of his emotions, something I found extremely attractive, and it was nice that all I could see right now was understanding. Whatever happened he would hear me out, and I had to hope he would be understanding. I just had to be sure I did not fuck anything up.

Across the table the bickering had started again. Our waitress brought out the rest of our meal, sans desert, and seemed happy we were enjoying the food. She eyed Darcy wearily and left our table in a hurry. I felt horrible for the wait staff who had come to our table. They were all getting the nastiest looks from the dark haired beauty.

“Do we really have to do this now?” Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair roughly. His face was red and expression tight. “In front of my friends, dude? Are you serious?”

I cleared my throat, grabbed my tea and took a long sip before sinking into the booth and praying no one could see me. Jimin’s arm dropped, and he squeezed my shoulder in comfort. I let myself melt under his touch. It always felt nice when his hands were on me, his warmth burning hot like a furnace even in below freezing temperatures. Taehyung’s eyes were bulging out of his head now, his bottom lip trembling as he tried his best to keep the conversation between the four of us light. He had stopped trying to include the other two.

“You two seem close,” He gritted, fakeness coming from him that I had never encountered before. “Glad you were able to sort that out.”

I looked over at Jimin and saw his cheeks had gone pink. So, Taehyung knew something I didn’t. It would make sense for the childhood best friend to get the scoop before the chick he’s known for two months, I had definitely vented to my friends on more than one occasion, and my curiosity was peaked.

“I'm working on it,” Jimin replied, taking a big gulp of water. “Thanks, Tae," He breathed, rolling his eyes.

I stifled a laugh. He was so cute when he was embarrassed. I made a mental note to ask Tae to explain what he meant when we had a chance to get lunch. I had a feeling the snowboarder would be more than happy to divulge that little piece of information. 

“Talking about me to your friends?” I teased, trying my best to ignore the ever-growing argument across from me. The butterflies in my stomach were a helpful distraction. “Good things, I hope.”

He cracked a smile, face and neck flushed. “The best things.”

Such a flirt.

I bit my lip and looked away. Eating was a nice way to interrupt the electricity that was enveloping us, and I gorged myself on octopus and tuna. Whatever the hell these dishes were, I had to admit the sushi here was the best I had ever had. I would never doubt a recommendation from Taehyung again.

The conversation started flowing easily after that. Jungkook and Darcy were at a stalemate and were relatively quiet on their side of the booth. With the atmosphere lightening, Milo felt good enough to start telling us his latest work stories. He was a firefighter along with all three of his brothers. His father was promoted to chief about five years ago but was coming up to his retirement. The only one of his siblings to avoid the fireman fate was his baby sister, but had still managed to find a job at the station.

"You guys must be close," I laughed in disbelief.

“It’s the family business,” He joked. "Rosie is our new EMT."

Taehyung spoke excitedly about his upcoming competitions and was really hopeful he would win enough to qualify for the Olympics this year. Milo and Jimin both reassured him multiple times while I tried my best to keep up with everything he was talking about. I had very little knowledge of snowboarding, so I was having to constantly interrupt and ask for clarification. No one seemed to mind, and eventually Jungkook joined in to talk about his upcoming hockey games.

The Red Wings were having a good year, and he was proud of his team for working as hard as they did. As a goalie, he did not do a lot of skating, but his job was one of the hardest on the team. From what I knew after watching a few games on tv with Jimin's family, Jungkook was one of the best goalies in the NHL who was highly sought after. He had been offered millions to transfer to the New York Rangers, but out of loyalty he turned them down.

“I’ll take you to a few matches if you want,” Jimin offered. “Kook can get us tickets whenever.”

I smiled, “That sounds like fun.”

“Milo and I go all of the time so we can sit together,” Taehyung interjected, his shoulders relaxed for the first time since we got here.

Darcy was quiet and stayed on her phone. Jungkook was pretending she was not here, and it helped keep the arguing from starting again. I was not sure how long the truce would last, but I hoped they could hold it together long enough for us to finish eating.

“So Y/N,” Milo mused, taking a piece of fish from Taehyung’s plate. “Have you ever thought about competing again?”

I laughed nervously, “For a time, maybe. My injuries make it hard for me to swim the way I used to so I decided to keep it as a hobby.”

It was not a complete lie, but I knew I might be able to get back into competitions if I put in the time and effort. I hated the thought of being back in the spotlight, cameras shoved in my face, only to lose and give them more to talk about. I was still recovering from the trauma they inflicted on me after the accident. My leg injuries just gave me the perfect excuse to keep my distance.

He nodded, eyebrows knitted, “I didn’t know you had medical leave. What happened?”

Jimin tensed up beside me. 

“I was in a car accident,” I replied. Talking about what happened did not bother me as much as it used to, and Milo seemed genuinely interested in the answer. “I had to get a full knee replacement on my left side, and a full hip replacement. I should have lost my leg, but the doctor on staff recognized me and brought up my profession.”

Milo whistled, giving me a sympathetic look. “Leg? You could have died.”

“Well,” I breathed, finishing off my last piece of fish. “I pulled through though, so it wasn’t all bad.” I fiddled with my shirt, pretending to smooth it down as I played it cool. "Anyway, I have nerve damage in my leg that makes me get really horrible cramps and twitching if I overwork my muscles. It sucks but coaching is really fun, so I can't complain."

Blatantly lying wasn't something I did often, but I truly hated reliving the months of physical therapy. Unable to walk or talk, I was stuck in that hospital bed for weeks and then got sent home to watch my closest friends wait on me hand-and-foot. When I wasn’t in physical therapy, I was with my SLP. When I wasn’t with her then I was in bed, crying into my pillow, and wishing I had never woken up. It was an extremely dark time in my life, one filled with chronic pain and overwhelming depression, and talking about it made me emotional. 

“Anyway,” Taehyung sent his fiancé a pointed look. “Kookie’s next home game is in two weeks.”

Happy to be out of the spotlight, I began to talk with Jimin about changing our schedule around so we could attend the game. Taehyung was excited to get me some Red Wing merchandise, and Jungkook quickly began to boast about his prowess on the ice. Darcy scoffed beside him and I felt the group tense up.

“You’re so cocky, Ian,” She taunted, eyes glued to her phone. “I heard Avalanche was doing really well this season.”

I knew from the group chat that the Red Wings and the Colorado Avalanche had a long-standing rivalry. It had started all the way back in the mid-90’s and reached its peak in 2002. While the intensity had dissipated over the years, it had recently spiked up again due to Jungkook and Jackson Wang’s ongoing feud. The only reason Darcy would bring that up would be to piss her boyfriend off. 

“Hm,” Jungkook smirked, chuckling darkly. “Who told you that?”

I held my breath, already guessing where this was going. The tension from earlier was thicker than ever as we fell silent. Darcy put her phone on the table, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked Jungkook in the face as she replied.

“Jackson.”

It was dead silent for a few seconds. Then, without waiting for a response, Darcy kept digging the knife in and twisting. She called him ugly, said he sucked in bed, brought up all of the ways Jackson was better than he was, and went as far as to bring up his father's affair. Jungkook could not get a word in as her silky voice dropped lower and lower, words cutting deeper and deeper, and eyes growing brighter as she watched his expression fall. I learned something tonight. Darcy enjoyed hurting Jungkook.

"Why are you doing this, dude?" Jungkook's voice was thick with emotion. "You're acting like a fucking child. It's embarrassing."

“Holy shit,” Milo groaned as their voices got louder. “Are they being forreal right now?”

“Babe,” Taehyung scolded, the forced smile still plastered on his face. “Language.”

“You weren’t embarrassed when you fucked that girl” Darcy screamed and I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably. “Why should I feel bad about airing out my dirty laundry? Everyone here knows how much of a whore I am anyway, isn’t that right, Ian?”

“Keep your voice down,” Jungkook hissed, eyes glassy. “You’re causing a scene.”

Taehyung and Milo looked as mortified as I felt, both of them staring at Darcy in horror. The entire restaurant had gone silent. Eyes were glued to our table as they argued. She shouted about him getting his dick sucked in their bed, and Jungkook was just angry she was acting like this in public. It was Jimin’s birthday all over again only this time they knew people were watching and did not care. Taehyung’s smile was finally gone and replaced by trembling lips and fidgeting hands.

“Take that shit outside,” Jimin cut in, voice cold and hard. Darcy glared daggers in our direction. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

Darcy opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by the waitress coming back and demanding our party leave. Taehyung began to apologize profusely while Darcy stormed out of the restaurant, bumping into numerous people roughly without looking back. Jungkook was hot on her heels, breathing heavily, and eyes glossed over with unshed tears. She shouted that Jackson was outside and for Jungkook to go fuck himself. Jungkook didn’t reply but I knew he was not expecting the other man to be here. I sure the fuck wasn't.

An arm wrapped around my shoulders, “Hey, calm down. Breathe.”

I had not realized I had been holding my breath. Turning my head, I was taken aback by how close Jimin was. Our noses brushed together, his breath hot against my cheek, and I jerked away, heart racing. The butterflies were swarming now, and a shiver went down my spine. His arm dropped and I immediately missed its warmth. Flustered, I scooted out of the booth and kept my head hung low. I was so embarrassed, and I could hear Taehyung’s voice starting to wobble as he handed over some cash to the waitress for the trouble. No one was going home happy tonight. 

“I’m so fucking pissed off,” Jimin grunted, keeping in step with me. Milo was attempting to get a now hysterical Taehyung calmed as they followed behind us. “I don’t know why Tae invites the two of them anywhere.”

I shook my head, “It’s not his fault. She needs to get some self-control, though. That was so rude and uncalled for, and for what?"

“They both owe him a fucking apology,” He sighed harshly.

The guests of honor were already in a very heated screaming match when we finally made it outside. Whatever had been brewing inside had clearly reached its peak, and neither one of them was willing to back down. Jimin’s arm was back around my shoulders as he tried his best to shelter me from the strong winds that were kicking up. Looking at Darcy and Jungkook all I could see were my parents and it caused me great discomfort. Maybe I should try to call my dad again and make sure he was alright? He rarely answered but at least it would cut some of the edge off of my anxiety.

“Why are you acting like this?” Jungkook shouted, pulling at his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”

“You!” Darcy shrieked. “You! You! YOU! You’re the problem. This is all your fault!”

Jungkook called her a crazy bitch and Darcy slapped him across the face before stomping off. A sleek red convertible was waiting for her on the curb, a well-groomed man behind the steering wheel. He smiled and waved at Jungkook before speeding off, Darcy already attaching her lips to his neck and not sparing any of us a second glance.

“What the fuck!” Taehyung shouted, sobbing and clinging to Milo. 

I was surprised he was able to hold himself back for that long. He seemed hellbent on strangling Jungkook as soon as he was able. I stepped to the side watching a man I had never seen upset shove Jungkook backwards. Any resemblance of a smile was gone now, replaced with a snot-nosed, red eyed man with bared teeth. Jungkook stumbled, barely keeping his footing before shoving the other man back. Milo was quick to defend his fiancé, pushing Jungkook so hard he stumbled, fell on his ass, and cried out in pain. 

Jimin’s arm gripped me tighter as he stared at the scene unfold in silence. His clenched jaw, however, told me how angry he was. I briefly wondered what he would be doing if he was not so focused on keeping me warm.

“That was so fucked up,” Taehyung cried, wiping his face roughly. “I told you both to keep that shit at home or don’t come!”

“She started it! It’s not my fault-”

“Dude,” Milo shook his head, wrapping his arms around Taehyung. “It doesn’t fucking matter. That’s your girl.”

As the three of them argued, I tried to decipher the look on Jimin’s face. He was angry, that was very apparent, and I felt my own anger finally start to rise. He had been dealing with so much shit and on his first night out in ages this happens? It was unfair and ridiculous, my frustration over the entire situation making me want to go over and push Jungkook around, too. However, I knew that was not the way to handle this. Truth was, he was not the only person to blame for how badly the night had ended. Darcy was the main instigator.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jimin, stepping away from his tight embrace. His arm was still around my shoulders with no sign of moving. “I’m sorry everything got so shitty.”

He nodded, face softening when he looked at me. “Just worried about Taehyung. He was really excited about tonight.”

The yelling was finally starting to calm down and I was happy that they were talking things out. I did not think I could handle the screaming for any longer. I had been a bundle of nerves since I left my house, and my fingers trembled at my sides. I could hear my mother’s voice echoing in my head, though I was positive it was distorted after so many years. Sometimes when her and dad fought, she would find me hiding in my closet and pull me out, hands leaving my skin tender from the harsh grip she had on my arms, before telling me to clean up the broken dishes from off the floor.

“Come here you little shit!”

She hated me; hated being a mother. I could remember how much I wished she would hold me like the other kids' moms held them but was too afraid to ask. One time I drew a picture of her at school and she never even looked at it. Instead, she smoked her cigarettes at the dinner table and watched Law and Order. If I really thought about it, she threw the drawing away. It was too dirty. Just like I was too dirty.

Mom had germaphobia and considered me one of the dirtiest things she had ever seen. I was not allowed in their bedroom because of it. Dad went along with it like he did everything else. When he wasn’t drinking, he was sleeping or in the garage. I hoped he was doing okay. Danielle seemed to be just as controlling as mom had been.

“Where’d you go?”

I startled, whipping around to find Jimin staring at me. His expression was gentle and calm, and I was suddenly aware of the harsh chill nipping at my wet cheeks. I had not noticed I was starting to cry. Strange. It had been a long time since those memories had been brought up.

“Are you okay?” He asked, rubbing my arm. “You looked lost.”

I nodded, quickly reaching up to pat the tears away. It was a good thing my mascara was smudge proof or else I might look even more pathetic. I am 31 now and it felt stupid to cry over things so far in the past. Things I had not had to deal with in well over 20 years. Dr.Wolfe would disagree with me, but she wasn't here.

“Yeah,” I nodded, voice thick. “Just zoned out for a second. Eyes must have dried out.”

It was a bad lie, but a lie he accepted. Squeezing my arm one last time, he finally moved away to give me a bit of breathing room. That was another thing that I always appreciated about the guy. He never overstayed his welcome, even if he wanted to. Taking a second to compose myself, I mindlessly fixed my hair and adjusted my clothes. Nervous habit.

“I think everyone’s heading home for the night,” Jimin said, nodding his head toward the other three men. “They seem cool. You ready to leave?”

I shrugged, “If you are.”

He nodded and walked over to the ground. I gave myself another moment to gather my thoughts. The worst of it was over and I doubted those memories would make themselves known again. With the screaming over it would not take long for my head to get itself straightened out. I might ask Jimin to drive us back, though. I was exhausted, and frankly, I did not think we would be safe if I was behind the wheel. Nothing worse than an anxious driver.

Jungkook was ashamed of their behavior tonight, and when I joined the others, he was quick to throw a million apologies in my direction. I accepted them all easily but knew it would take me a few days to fully forgive him. Tonight was a lot. Hopefully I could speak with Taehyung privately and ask him not to invite the couple out with us. If I never had to see Darcy again it would make my stay that much easier.

“I think we’re going to go home,” Milo said once Jungkook walked away. He was planning on calling an Uber so Tae could have a bit of space. “My little flower is burned out for the night.”

I smiled sadly, “Are you sure? We can always try something else.”

Taehyung’s head snapped in my direction and I wanted to scoop him up in my arms. His face was puffy from crying and eyes still misty. He was quick to nod his head and reached out to take hold of my hands.

“You still want to hang out with me?” He whimpered.

I had only said it to cheer him up not thinking that he would actually go for the idea. I had never seen him so distraught before and Milo seemed convinced that he was over having fun. Stealing a look at the blonde, he gave me a grateful smile but otherwise kept a watchful eye on Taehyung.

“Of course I do,” I finally replied, squeezing his large hands. “Tonight wasn’t your fault.”

His lower lip started to wobble again and next thing I knew I was in a very tight, warm hug. Taehyung cried into the crook of my neck. He was worried I would not like him anymore because of the fight. I awkwardly hugged him back, hoping my calm reassurances would soothe him. We really needed to get from outside the front of this restaurant before they called the cops. 

“It’s alright,” I said, trying to gently remove his arms from my waist. “We’re still friends, I promise.”

After another minute of crying, Taehyung was back in Milo’s arms. His face was red, and his nose was running, but the sobs had stopped. Jimin placed a hand on my lower back and started to bounce a few ideas off of Milo. It was late, but from the sound of things, our get together was not over. I could not say for certain if this was a good thing or not, I did need to have that talk with Jimin. If we were out too late there was no way for me to promise I would not pass out in the car.

“Uh,” Jimin thought for a second. “If we’re still hungry there’s Pie Sci and Woodbridge is right down the street. There's also that park a few blocks away."

I shrugged, “Whatever’s the best?” Looking at Taehyung, I made sure that he was feeling well enough to hang out. “I won’t be upset if you want to go home. It was a rough night for all of us.”

He sniffled and nodded. “I’m just really tired.”

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple. 

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him. 

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening. 

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Turning on the blinker, Jimin switched lanes smoothly. He was probably the best driver that I knew and always made sure to keep my little quirks in mind during our rides. He had even gotten used to leaving the radio off when I was around, something that I appreciated more than words could ever say. Recognizing that I was stalling, I cleared my throat and tried my best to get my jumbled thoughts across.

“As much as I would like to go on that date,” I started, voice weak, “I’m just a bit concerned with how that might affect our ability to work together.”

There we go, I thought to myself mentally patting myself on the back. That was not as hard as I thought it would be. Leaving out a few details would not hurt anybody, and it was the main cause of concern for me. My age was definitely up there, but I doubted Jimin would understand my perspective. To him I was just older, but to the rest of the world I was this cougar on the prowl for young men to help me relive my glory days. Even my own friends thought it was funny to make fun of the age gap.

“Is it only because of that?” Jimin pressed, his voice telling me that he was still reacting positively to whatever was coming out of my mouth. I was refusing to look at him, fearful that he would see through me. “Or is there something else bothering you?”

“W-w-well-” I stammered, “There is the media frenzy to think about. Sejin is already dealing with the press and your ‘out of character’ seclusion this season. Then there’s the age gap. I just-” I struggled to find the right words. Having let my insecurity slip out, I lost my flow and scrambled to get back on track. “Look, I haven’t done this whole dating thing in a really long time, and I don’t want that to get in the way of being a good coach. Ozzie put me in charge of you, and my reputation is on the line.”

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Mouth dry and palms sweaty, I forced myself to look out of the window as I spoke. Anxiety had been something I dealt with for as long as I could remember, and it only got worse the older I got. My hands and fingers trembled in my lap as I tried to steady my breathing. 

In all of the dreams I had about Jimin, and there had been quite a few at this point, this moment had never felt so real and raw. We were always in these picture perfect pieces of heaven, sunshine beaming down on us, and the words I desperately wanted to say fell from my lips with ease. It was simple and sweet, and yet profound and beautiful. I could wax poetics and put myself thoughts together so eloquently he had no choice but to say yes to me. 

Reality was different. Here I was stumbling over my sentences and stuttering my way through words. Instead of taking his hand with mine, I was fidgeting with shaking fingers and desperately hoping he could not see just how uncomfortable I was. I knew he did. He always noticed. My heart was racing so fast I was afraid it would burst. Had he turned the heart up? It was boiling.

“I just want to know how you feel about me.”

“Hm?” I squeaked, unable to form any real words. My mouth was too dry. 

“I’ve thought about all of the same shit,” Jimin continued, voice as smooth and calming as ever. “I don’t care about any of that. All I want to know is how you feel about me.”

“You know,” I replied, wheezing. Talking felt impossible. “You know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Taking in a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and began the mental countdown. My therapist taught me the technique years ago and I always found it to be helpful. I did this a few times until I felt calm enough to open my eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded, finally feeling my heart rate slowing. “A little anxious.”

“Don’t be,” He placed a hand on my knee. “It’s just me.”

And he was right. It was just Jimin and I in my car, but that was also the reason I felt so suffocated. There was nowhere to run or hide in here, and if things went south I was stuck with him for half an hour. Trying not to let those pessimistic thoughts send me back into a panic, I began to mentally point out things in my car.

Air freshener. It's green. It smells like pine and lemons. I want a new scent. Jimin likes to buy this coconut and mango one that smells like candy. I will buy one like his. I love the smell.

I let out a heavy breath. Everything was fine. He was not upset. He just wanted to know how I felt about him. Nothing more nothing less. My heart was settling, and my fingers were no longer shaking.

“I like you,” I choked out, placing my hand over his. “But you already knew that.”

He gently laughed, flipping his hand up to intertwine our fingers. 

“Yeah, you’re a terrible actress.”

I groaned, leaning my head against the window. As much as I tried kidding myself, there was absolutely no way he did not see the way I looked at him. I always knew when his flirting took on a more serious edge, like when he called me beautiful after seeing the scar on my leg for the first time, so it should not have been surprising that he picked up on a thing or two. Still, it did not make it any less embarrassing.

“How long have you known?” I asked, peeking at him through my lashes.

“I mean, I had a feeling when you first got to town, but I wasn’t completely sure until that first training day.”

He laughed at my embarrassed groan, holding my hand tighter. I knew I wasn't subtle enough. Poker face champion, my ass.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He cooed. “You’ve been my dream girl since I was, like, 15.”

“That's not helping the age gap thing,” I tittered as I played with his fingers. Then, because I could not help myself. “Dream girl, huh?”

Picking up on the teasing tone in my voice, Jimin chortled. 

“Okay, big head. Calm down.”

“Big head?” I guffawed, pulling my hand out of his grasp. “Who are you calling big head, shortstop?”

“You, big head,” Taking back my hand, Jimin pinned it down and kept a tight grip. “No take backs.”

I always loved it when Jimin was in a good mood. He was so playful and full of energy, and all signs of those dark days were in the deepest parts of his mind. It was impossible to keep myself from playing along which only served to egg him on.

“You never said yes or no.”

“Yes or no to what?” I questioned. 

Jimin started rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“To that date.”

Saying yes felt wrong, but saying no felt impossible. No matter what I said someone would be upset, and I had to decide who that would be: Jimin or America? I turned my own hand around this time and put my fingers through his. They fit together awkwardly, his hands just a bit too large, but I still found it perfect all the same.

“Do you have any ideas?”

His shiteating grin was contagious and a burst of butterflies began to flutter in my stomach. Hands clasped, Jimin started to list off all of the places we could go, but I was not fully listening. I had a date with this guy. I was going on a date with my trainee. 

“What do you think?”

I blinked rapidly, hoping he could not tell that I had zoned out. 

“You pick,” I breathed. “Surprise me.”

The rest of the drive back home was spent making small talk and discussing food preferences. Jimin was a dinner and a movie kind of guy, while I would rather do some sort of activity. What type of conversation could we have in a theater? Jimin seemed excited to plan out a fun night and I was just happy he was this into me. The feeling was most definitely mutual.

“Do you mind if I go to my house tonight? Mom needs some space and I know my dad is tired of having me breathing down their necks.”

I had yet to go over to his house. The days that we drove together were when he spent the evening with his parents. When Na-yeon and I talked about it, she was more upfront about her health situation than the men of the house. James spent most of his time taking care of his wife and their son enjoyed giving him a break every now and then. James would go on a fishing trip with his friends while Jimin stayed back to keep an eye on his mother. 

“Is it closer to town?” I asked, nibbling on my lower lip. 

I had yet to drive through downtown Ann Arbor. The Park house, and by proxy the Anderson’s, was a thirty minute drive from the bustling city. Nestled in the smaller town of Saline going towards Manchester, I had rarely had to leave the small town. This trip to Detroit was the farthest I had gone since arriving in Michigan, but I had a feeling the traffic in downtown Ann Arbor would be a bit much for me to drive through alone.

“Yeah,” I felt even more nervous by his nonchalant tone. “I used to live downtown, but I got tired of the noise. I bought my house in Eberwhite last summer, so there’s a little less foot traffic.”

“How’s the drive back to Saline?” Even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.

“Less than twenty,” Rubbing the back of my hand, his voice took on a sweeter tone. “We don’t have to. My truck’s at my parent’s place anyway.”

“Maybe some other time?” I forced myself to laugh, hoping to make the awkward tension leave. “Preferably when it’s not dark outside.”

I relaxed into my seat once I started seeing familiar landmarks. Saline was a very small town with a little over 2,000 residents, but downtown still had a way of attracting a relatively large crowd. Stoney Creek Brewery was packed and Jimin pointed out Sam’s car as we pass by. 

“Looks like he came out with Otis and Skye,” He murmured.

Otis was another personal trainer at the gym, and Skye was responsible for marketing. They had been going out for a while now and made plan to move to Ann Arbor once Otis graduated from school. He was getting his masters in movement science at the University of Michigan. They had planned on moving out there when he graduated last year, but neither of them could find a job that could pay their bills. Otis was hoping the master’s would give him a competitive edge while Skye saved up enough money to start her own advertising firm.

“Think Gigi is with them?” I wondered.

“Probably not. She’s busy studying for an exam. I saw that she requested time off tomorrow and the day after, so I don’t think she has the time to go out for drinks.”

Giselle was getting her bachelor’s in dental hygiene at UM, and everytime I spoke to her she was swamped with work. I had no idea she needed to request time off, though. Must be an intense program.

“Did you ever go to college?” I asked Jimin. 

He nodded, “I got my bachelor’s in psychology.”

Well, I had not been expecting that. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I never went back to get my master’s,” We turned onto the long road that led to his parent’s house. “I might after the Olympics.”

It was interesting to hear about his goals post-swimming. I never had those. My entire life was going to be swimming, and then, once I could no longer compete, I was opening my own swim school. After a couple of years of coaching under my belt, the plan was to start training professional athletes until I could join the Olympic coaching team. The accident was a very traumatic and eye-opening experience for me, so most of those plans ended up getting changed and modified over the years.

“What about you?” Jimin asked, pulling up to the curb.

“I went through an accelerated program at UCCS. Just graduated with my Masters in Athletic Training back in April.”

Neither one of us seemed to be ready to break the bubble we created. Even if we were just talking about school, it felt too intimate to leave. Holding hands in my car was new and I was worried if I opened the car door all of this would turn out to be a dream. The date, the confession; all of it. 

“I should get going,” Jimin sighed, still not moving his hand from mine. “It’s late and I have to drive home.”

I was the first one to move away. He was right. It was almost midnight and I had a really difficult time tonight. All of that yelling really took a toll on me. Jimin did not move until he heard the click of my seatbelt unfastening. 

“See you tomorrow?” He asked when I rounded the car. Getting out of the car, he held the door open as I slid inside. “I know we were out later than we thought we’d be.”

I nodded, “We can have a late morning. 8:30 instead of 6.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

He closed my car door and jogged to his truck. It was parked in the driveway today. I pressed the button to roll my window down. 

“Drive safe!” I called out.

Looking over his shoulder, Jimin grinned and threw a hand up. I watched him climb into Fiona and tried to keep myself from worrying too much. It was so dark outside and he could be exhausted behind the wheel. Who knows what could happen to him.

He caught me staring and waved at me again. I returned it with a small smile. The truck stopped for a second and his phone was his hand. My cell phone vibrated in the cupholder.

Jimin: I’ll be okay

Jimin: Text you when I get home, k?

Looking back at the truck, I found him already looking at me. I nodded my response. He smiled at me again, waved, before finally backing out of the driveway. I did not move until I could no longer see his truck in my rearview. My phone buzzed one more time.

Jimin: At the stop sign on Woodland and Ann Arbor-Saline

Jimin: Go home. I’m here. I’m fine.

I hesitated texting him back when I knew he was driving, but decided that I would just have to trust he would not open it until it was safe.

Me: Get out of my head, kid

Finally putting my car in drive, I threw my phone back in its spot and made the ten minute drive down the road to the Anderson house. All of the lights were off when I pulled up and I was as quiet as a mouse walking to the backyard. 

I was beyond tired but still needed to get my nighttime routine done. Stripping out of my clothes, I turned on the shower and took off my makeup. Tonight wasn’t a wash night, so I was not in the shower for long. I heard my phone vibrating as I put on lotion and I quickly threw on a night shirt and went to my bedroom.

Jimin: Who says you aren’t in mine, meemaw

Jimin: I’m home now so you can get some sleep

Jimin: Night, geezer

I snorted. That was a new one. Crawling into bed, I got comfortable under my blankets and thought about a good comeback.

Me: Thank you

Me: Geezer? That’s such an geriatric thing to say, you whippersnapper

Jimin: LOL night 🫰🏼

Me: Night 🌜

I quick sent Taehyung a text to make sure he and Milo go home safely before putting my phone on the charger. Jungkook sent a text to our group chat an hour ago to let us know he was in his apartment back in Detroit. He was in Ann Arbor so often since Darcy lived out here, but he had bought a multi-million dollar home in Corktown when was first signed to the Red Wings in 2019. Milo was the one to reply to my text, signing his name at the bottom, since Taehyung passed out in the car on their way back home.

I took my medications and started up a game of solitaire while I waited for them to kick in. My psychologist had sent me to Michigan with a three month supply. I was planning my first trip back next week so I could see the boys in time for their first big competition of the season. While I was in town, I would pick up another three month supply. We were making the arrangements work as best as we could, and I was lucky I had a large group of people willing to support me during this transition.

Finally I felt the sleeping pills kicking in and I went to my white noise app. I hated falling asleep in silence and Emery had suggested the app while we were in a session. I paid for a yearly subscription and never regretted the fifty bucks. It had been a huge help in lulling me to bed.

Lights out and blankets wrapped snugly around my body, I closed my eyes and thought about everything that had happened. Jimin liked me back, asked me on a date, and told all of his friends about his infatuation with me before I even realized something else was going on. I was his dream girl. That put a lazy smile on my face. Then, I could no longer think about anything and was plunged into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae @adventures-in-bookland

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

[ninothebirb]

WE WERE ONCE ONE

Content Warning: Angst, fluff, implied sex, gn!reader, one sided love, minors dni, cheesy stuff?, mental trauma, etc

Please read the previous chapters (1, 2, 3) and the prologue if you haven't already!

Chapter 4: You and me

Might be the last chapter I think.

You spent the next few weeks locking yourself up, refusing to interact with anyone. Jing Yuan would visit you everyday, only to be told by Bailu that you weren't taking any visitors. Until he snapped, and snuck into your room from the window instead.

"Jing Yuan- seriously?" You threw the pillow you were clutching onto, on his face. "Hey, I can't stand seeing you like this." He rolled his eyes, shrugging off the pillow and walking over to your bed. "I'm pissed at you. So much." His tone changed almost immediately, it was somewhat a mix of worry and frustration.

"Why are you angry? I should be pissed at you, not the other way around." You glared at him, those gorgeous orbs of yours were hurt. He could see it, he could see the pain behind them. "Fuck (reader) you don't get it...you just wouldn't move on! You- went ahead and blindly depended on his existence- without considering any fucking factors!!"

This was the first time you had heard him raise his voice, and your natural reaction was to flinch. "Do you have any idea- how much I care for you- how much I worry every time for your mental fucking state. I wish that we would go back to them time when you trusted me with your life!" His hands were gripping your shoulders tight by now, trembling and shaking.

You were speechless, Jing Yuan, the smug general was on the verge of tears in front of your very eyes. "You refused to- to even hear what I had to say a-and- you left me alone- I hate you so much for that, but I fucking love you too." The intensity of the moment was eating you up, you thought he was the one without any suffering. Turns out this man had been going just as crazy as everyone in the post high cloud quintet.

"Y-You- you what?! Jing Yuan- you know I've devoted my whole being to Dan Feng how could you ever-" You were suddenly interrupted by him pulling you close to his heart, and you could hear his sniffles and sobs. "Please...give me a chance-" Nothing could describe the amount of emotions you were feeling. Confusion? Anxiety? Whatever it was, it was incomprehensible.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, his heartbeat was loud and his crying had fainted away. "You're an idiot." You mumbled against his chest softly, not sure how to respond to what he had just said. You gently retracted from the hug when you got no answer, only to find out he had fallen asleep.

The thought of Jing Yuan liking you all this time led you to a plethora of confusing thoughts. He had been your best friend- but you never saw him in that way. But- your heart worked in a different way. Being so deprived of affection and the feeling of being wanted for all these years made you have second thoughts.

You placed a blanket on him, and walked over to your balcony, indulging in the unsolved puzzle that your mind had turned into. You glanced back at Jing Yuan, going into a completely different relationship wasn't the best idea- but it was something you desired deeply. Dan Feng had moved on- going so far as to change his name. He didn't do it on purpose however, his memories had been wiped out.

Maybe...you needed some change. Maybe you could give this a chance and let yourself go for the time being. After all- you could never had predicted at that time what a future could uphold, so you couldn't predict it now either.

After a few hours, Jing Yuan had woken up with you sitting by his side. "I'm sorry..." He whispered softly, getting up. "Why?" You placed down the book you were reading, he was about to leave. You immediately grabbed a hold of his hand, making him stop in his steps. "I really shouldn't have said all that I-"

Your lips were now connected in a soft and sensual kiss, it was a gentle touch between you two. As if nothing mattered in that very moment except for you and Jing Yuan. He was left gaping after the kiss- completely jaw dropped. "I...thought about it- I s'pose...we can try.." You spoke so gently, walking up closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you once again- keeping you in his embrace. But this time it wasn't for comfort- it was to share what you had made. Together.

And that very night you guys fuck. Be top or bottom you can imagine whatever you want.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH.4

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

EXTRAS: Vomiting, alcohol !

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

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*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 concrete of the garage with its bleak fluorescent light, I speed towards Bella's car getting inside as if someone was chasing me.

What was I thinking? Unbidden and unwelcome incoming tears make my eyes water.

Why am I crying? I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. I hide my face in my hands and wipe a stray tear off my cheek.

That is so embarrassing. I embarrassed myself out there thinking that we were going to kiss. I'm so stupid, being sad of something I never had. How ridiculous. Something that never was – my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

I have never been on the receiving end of rejection. Okay… so I was always one of the last to be picked for basketball or volleyball – but I understood that – running and doing something else at the same time like bouncing or throwing a ball is not my thing. I am a serious liability in any sporting field.

Romantically, though, I’ve never put myself out there, ever. A lifetime of insecurity – I’m too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated, my long list of faults goes on. So I have always been the one to rebuff any would be admirers. There was that guy in my chemistry class who liked me, but no one has ever sparked my interest – no one except Christian damn Grey.

Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Paul Clayton and José Rodriguez, though I’m sure neither of them have been found like me inside their car in a dark parking lot.

I should go home, do my studying. Forget about him and stop all this self-pitying, crap!!!

I take a deep, steadying breath and start the engine. I will not think of him again. I can just chalk this incident up to experience and concentrate on my exams.

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Bella is sitting at the dining table at her laptop when I arrive. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me.

“Y/N/N what’s wrong?”

Oh no… not the Isabella Clark Inquisition. I shake my head at her in a back-off now Bella way – but I might as well be dealing with a blind, deaf mute.

“You’ve been crying,” she has an exceptional gift for stating the damned obvious sometimes. “What did that bastard do to you?” she growls, and her face – jeez, she’s scary.

“Nothing Bella.” That’s actually the problem. The thought brings a wry smile to my face.

“Then why have you been crying? You never cry,” she says, her voice softening. She stands, her green eyes brimming with concern. She puts her arms around me and hugs me.

I need to say something just to get her to back off. “I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist.” It’s the best that I can do, but it distracts her momentarily from… him.

“Jeez Y/N/N – are you okay? Were you hurt?” She holds me at arm’s length and does a quick visual check-up on me.

“No. Christian saved me,” I whisper. “But I was quite shaken.”

“I’m not surprised. How was coffee? I know you hate coffee.”

“I had tea. It was fine, nothing to report really. I don’t know why he asked me.”

“He likes you Y/N/N.” She drops her arms.

“Not anymore. I won’t be seeing him again.” Yes, I manage to sound matter of fact.

“Oh?”

Shit. She’s intrigued. I head into the kitchen so that she can’t see my face.

“Yeah… he’s a little out of my league Bella,” I say as dryly as I can manage.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh Bella, it’s obvious.” I whirl round and face her as she stands in the kitchen doorway.

“Not to me,” she says. “Okay, he’s got more money than you, but then he has more money than most people in America!”

“Bella he’s– ” I shrug.

“Y/N! For heaven’s sake – how many times must I tell you? You’re a total babe,” she interrupts me. She’s off on this tirade again.

“Bella, please. I need to study.” I cut her short. She frowns.

“Do you want to see the article? It’s finished. José took some great pictures.”

Do I need a visual reminder of the beautiful Christian I-don’t-want-you Grey?

“Sure,” I magic a smile on to my face and stroll over to the laptop. And there he is, staring at me in black and white, staring at me and finding me lacking.

I pretend to read the article, all the time meeting his steady gray gaze, searching the photo for some clue as to why he’s not the man for me – his own words to me. And it’s suddenly, blindingly obvious. He’s too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. His words make sense. He’s not the man for me.

This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to accept… almost. I can live with this. I understand.

“Very good Bella,” I manage. “I’m going to study.” I am not going to think about him again for now, I vow to myself, and opening my revision notes, I start to read.

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It’s only when I’m in bed, trying to sleep, that I allow my thoughts to drift through my strange morning. I keep coming back to the ‘I don’t do the girlfriend thing’ quote, and I’m angry that I didn’t pounce on this information sooner, when I was in his arms mentally begging him with every fiber of my being to kiss me. He’d said it there and then. He didn’t want me as a girlfriend. I turn on to my side.

Idly, I wonder if perhaps he’s celibate? I close my eyes and begin to drift. Maybe he’s saving himself.

Well not for you, my sleepy subconscious has a final swipe at me before unleashing itself on my dreams.

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I put my pen down. Finished. My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face.

It’s Friday, and we'll be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! I’ve never been drunk before. I glance across the sports hall at Bella, and she’s still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the end. This is it, the end of my academic career.

I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again. Inside I’m doing graceful cartwheels around my head, knowing full well that’s the only place I can do graceful cartwheels.

Bella stops writing and puts her pen down. She glances across at me, and I catch her sly smile too.

We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Bella is more concerned about what she’s going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys.

“Y/N/N, there’s a package for you.” Bella is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown paper parcel. Odd. I haven’t ordered anything from Amazon recently. Bella gives me the parcel and takes my keys to open the front door.

It’s addressed to Miss Y/N Y/L/N. There’s no sender’s address or name. Perhaps it’s from my mom or Ray.

“It’s probably from my mom or dad.”

“Open it!” Bella is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our ‘Exams are finished celebration Champagne’.

I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card. Written on one side, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:

Why didn't you tell me there was danger? Why didn't you warn me?

Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these trisks...

I recognize the quote from Tess. I am stunned by the irony as I’ve just spent three hours writing about the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no irony… perhaps it’s deliberate.

I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I open the front cover. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:

‘London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.’

Holy fuck - they are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who’s sent them. Bella is at my shoulder gazing at the books. She picks up the card.

“First Editions,” I whisper.

“No way...” Bella’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Grey?”

I nod. “Can’t think of anyone else.”

“What does this card mean?”

“I have no idea. I think it’s a warning – honestly he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It’s not like I’m beating his door down.” I frown.

“I know you don’t want to talk about him, Y/N/N, but he’s seriously into you. Warnings or no.”

I have not let myself dwell on Christian Grey for the past week. Okay…I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and his wonderful fragrance from my brain. Why has he sent me this?

He told me that I wasn’t for him.

“I’ve found one Tess first edition for sale in New York at $14,000. But yours looks in much better condition. They must have cost more.” Bella is consulting her good friend Google.

“This quote – Tess says it to her mother after Alec D’Urberville has had his wicked way with her.”

“I know,” muses Bella. “What is he trying to say?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t accept these from him. I’ll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book.”

“The bit where Angel Clare says fuck off?” Bella asks with a completely straight face.

“Yes, that bit.” I giggle. I love Bella, she’s so loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. She hands me a glass of champagne.

“To the end of exams and our new life in Seattle,” she grins.

“To the end of exams, our new life in Seattle, and excellent results.” We clink glasses and drink.

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The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. José joins us. He won’t graduate for another year, but he’s in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all.

As I down my fifth, I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.

“So what now Y/N/N?” José shouts at me over the noise.

“Bella and I are moving to Seattle. Her parents have bought a condo there for her.”

“But you’ll be back for my show, right?”

“Of course, José, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I smile, and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

“It means a lot to me that you’ll be there Y/N/N,” he whispers in my ear. “Another margarita?”

“José Luis Rodriguez – are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it’s working.” I giggle. “I think I’d better have a beer. I’ll go get us a pitcher.”

“More drinks, Y/N/N!” Bella bellows.

Bella has the constitution of an ox. She’s got her arm draped over Levi, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on her student newspaper. He’s given up taking photos of the drunkenness that surrounds him. He only has eyes for her. She’s in a stunning red dress that hugs her curves perfectly with black high heels and curls that reach her back elegantly.

Me, I’m in my usual skirt outfit but Bella made it more 'club like' and I love it, I feel very comfortable.

I move out of José’s hold and get up from our table. Whoa. Head spin. I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila based cocktails are not a good idea.

I make my way to the bar and decide that I should visit the restroom while I am on my feet.

Good thinking, Y/N. I stagger off through the crowd. Of course, there’s a line, but at least it’s quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line.

Hmm… Who did I last call? Was it José? Before that a number I don’t recognize. Oh yes. Grey, I think this is his number. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is, maybe I’ll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the crypticmessage.

If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial. He answers on the second ring. “Y/N?” He’s surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I’m surprised to ring him.

Then my befuddled brain registers… how does he know it’s me? “Why did you send me the books?” I slur at him.

“Y/N, are you okay? You sound strange.” His voice is filled with concern.

“I’m not the strange one, you are,” I accuse. My courage fuelled by alcohol.

“Y/N, have you been drinking?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m...curious. Where are you?”

“In a bar.”

“Which bar?” He sounds exasperated.

“A bar in Portland.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I’ll find a way.” This conversation is not going how I expected.

“Which bar are you in?”

“Why did you send me the books, Christian?”

“Y/N, where are you, tell me now.” His tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak.

He's a freak. The thought makes me laugh.“You’re so… domineering,” I giggle.

“Where the fuck are you?” He asked angrily.

Christian Grey is swearing at me. I giggle again. “I’m in Portland… s’a long way from Seattle s'a long way from your bizarre ass.”

“Where in Portland?”

“Goodnight, Christian.”

“Y/N!”

I hang up. Ha! Though he didn’t tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplished. I am really quite drunk - my head swims uncomfortably as I shuffle with the line. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I have succeeded. This is what it’s like – probably not an experience to be repeated.

The line has moved, and it’s now my turn. I stare blankly at the poster on the back of the toilet door that extols the virtues of safe sex.

Fuck, did I just call Christian Grey? Shit. My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise. “Hi,” I bleat timidly in to the phone. I hadn’t reckoned on this.

“I’m coming to get you,” he says and hangs up. Only Christian Grey could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.

What the hell. I pull my skirt up. My heart is thumping. Coming to get me?

Oh no. I’m going to be sick… no… I’m fine. Hang on. He’s just messing with my head. I didn’t tell him where I was. He can’t find me here. Besides, it will take him hours to get here from Seattle, and we’ll be long gone by then. I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror.

I look flushed and slightly unfocused. Hmm… tequila.

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*𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙉'𝙎 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

The bar is crowded, full of students determined to have a good time. There’s some indie crap thumping over the sound system and the dance floor is crowded with heaving bodies.

It makes me feel old.

She’s here somewhere.

Elliot has followed me in through the front door. “Do you see her?” he shouts over the noise.

Scanning the room, I spot Isabella Clark. She’s with a group of friends, all of them men, sitting in a booth. There’s no sign of Y/N, but the table is littered with shot glasses and tumblers of beer.

Well, let’s see if Miss Clark is as loyal to her friend as Y/N is to her. She looks at me in surprise when we arrive at her table.

“Isabella,” I say by way of greeting, and she interrupts me before I can ask her Y/N’s whereabouts.

“Christian, what a surprise to see you here,” she shouts above the noise. The three guys at the table regard Elliot and me with hostile wariness.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“And who’s this?” She smiles rather too brightly at Elliot, interrupting me again. What an exasperating woman.

“This is my brother Elliot. Elliot, Isabella Clark. Where’s Y/N?”

Her smile broadens at Elliot, and I’m surprised by his answering grin.

“I think she went outside for some fresh air, she responds, but she doesn’t look at me. She has eyes only for Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em. Well, it’s her funeral.

“Outside? Where?” I shout.

“Oh. That way.” She points to double doors at the far end of the bar.

Pushing through the throng, I make my way to the door, leaving the three disgruntled men and Clark and Elliot engaged in a grin-off.

Through the double doors there is a line for the ladies’ washroom, and beyond that a door that’s open to the outside. It’s at the back of the bar. Ironically, it leads to the parking lot where Elliot and I have just been.

Walking outside, I find myself in a gathering space adjacent to the parking lot—a hangout flanked by raised flowerbeds, where a few people are smoking, drinking, chatting. Making out. I spot her.

Fucking hell. She’s with the photographer, I think, though it’s difficult to tell in the dim light. She’s in his arms, but she seems to be twisting away from him. He mutters something to her, which I don’t hear, and kisses her, along her jaw.

“José, no,” she says, and then it’s clear. She’s trying to push him off. She doesn’t want this.

For a moment I want to rip his head off. With my hands fisted at my side I march up to them. “I think the lady said no.” My voice carries, cold and sinister, in the relative quiet, while I struggle to contain my anger.

He releases Y/N and she squints at me with a dazed, drunken expression.

“Grey,” he says, his voice terse, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to smash the disappointment off his face.

Y/N heaves, then buckles over and vomits on the ground.

Oh, shit!

“Ugh—Dios mío, Y/N/N!” José leaps out of the way in disgust.

Fucking idiot.

Ignoring him, I grab her hair and hold it out of the way as she continues to throw up everything she’s had this evening. It’s with some annoyance that I note she doesn’t appear to have eaten. With my arm around her shoulders I lead her away from the curious onlookers toward one of the flowerbeds.

“If you’re going to throw up again, do it here. I’ll hold you.” It’s darker here. She can puke in peace. She vomits again and again, her hands on the brick. It’s pitiful. Once her stomach is empty, she continues to retch, long dry heaves.

Boy, she’s got it bad.

Finally her body relaxes and I think she’s finished. Releasing her, I give her my handkerchief, which by some miracle I have in the inside pocket of my jacket.

Thank you, Mrs. Jones.

Wiping her mouth, she turns and rests against the bricks, avoiding eye contact because she’s ashamed and embarrassed. And yet I’m so pleased to see her. Gone is my fury at the photographer. I’m delighted to be standing in the parking lot of a student bar in Portland with Miss Y/N Y/L/N.

She puts her head in her hands, cringes, then peeks up at me, still mortified. Turning to the door, she glares over my shoulder. I assume it’s at her “friend.”

“I’ll, um, see you inside,” José says, but I don’t turn to stare him down, and to my favour, she ignores him, too, returning her eyes to mine.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, while her fingers twist the soft linen.

Okay, let’s have some fun.

“What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“The phone call, mainly. Being sick. The list goes on,” she mumbles.

“We’ve all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you.” Why is it such fun to tease this young woman? “It’s about knowing your limits, Y/N. I mean, I’m all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?”

Perhaps she has a problem with alcohol. The thought is worrying, and I consider whether I should call my mother for a referral to a detox clinic.

Y/N frowns for a moment, as if angry, that little v forming between her brows, and I suppress the urge to kiss it. But when she speaks she sounds contrite.

“No,” she says. “I’ve never been drunk before and right now I have no desire to ever be again.” She looks up at me, her eyes unfocused, and she sways a little. She might pass out, so without giving it a thought I scoop her up into my arms.

She’s surprisingly light. Too light. The thought irks me. No wonder she’s drunk.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“I need to tell Bella,” she says, as her head rests on my shoulder.

“My brother can tell her.”

“What?”

“My brother Elliot is talking to Miss Clark”

“Oh?”

“He was with me when you called.”

“In Seattle?”

“No, I’m staying at The Heathman.” And my wild-goose chase has paid off.

“How did you find me?”

“I tracked your cell phone, Y/N.” I head toward the car. I want to drive her home. “Do you have a jacket or a purse?”

“Er…yes, I came with both. Christian, please, I need to tell Bella. She’ll worry.”

I stop and bite my tongue. Clark wasn’t worried about her being out here with the overamorous photographer. Rodriguez. That’s his name. What kind of friend is she? The lights from the bar illuminate her anxious face.

As much as it pains me, I put her down and agree to take her inside. Holding hands, we walk back into the bar, stopping at Bella’s table. One of the young men is still sitting there, looking annoyed and abandoned.

“Where’s Bella?” Y/N shouts above the noise.

“Dancing,” the guy says, his dark eyes staring at the dance floor. She collects her leather black coat and purse and, reaching out, she unexpectedly clutches my arm.

I freeze.

Shit.

My heart rate catapults into overdrive as the darkness surfaces, stretching and tightening its claws around my throat.

“She’s on the dance floor,” she shouts, her words tickling my ear, distracting me from my fear. And suddenly the darkness disappears and the pounding in my heart ceases.

What?

I roll my eyes to hide my confusion and take her to the bar, order a large glass of water, and pass it to her.

“Drink.”

Eyeing me over the glass, she takes a tentative sip.

“All of it,” I command. I’m hoping this will be enough damage control to avoid one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

What might have happened to her if I hadn’t intervened? My mood sinks.

And I think of what just happened to me. Her touch. My reaction.

My mood plummets further.

Y/N sways a little as she’s drinking, so I steady her with a hand on her shoulder. I like the connection—me touching her.

She finishes her drink, and retrieving the glass, I place it on the bar. Okay. She wants to talk to her so-called friend. I survey the crowded dance floor, uneasy at the thought of all those bodies pressing in on me as we fight our way through.

Steeling myself, I grab her hand and lead her toward the dance floor. She hesitates, but if she wants to talk to her friend, there’s only one way; she’s going to have to dance with me. Once Elliot gets his groove on, there’s no stopping him; so much for his quiet night in.

With a tug, she’s in my arms.

This I can handle. When I know she’s going to touch me, it’s okay. I can deal, especially since I’m wearing my jacket. I weave us through the crowd to where Elliot and Bella are making a spectacle of themselves.

Still dancing, Elliot leans toward me in mid-strut when we’re beside him and sizes us up with a look of incredulity.

“I’m taking Y/N home. Tell Bella,” I shout in his ear.

He nods and pulls Clark into his arms.

Right. Let me take Miss Drunk Bookworm home, but for some reason she seems reluctant to go. She’s watching Clark with concern. When we’re off the dance floor she looks back at Bella, then at me, swaying and a little dazed.

“Fuck—” By some miracle I catch her as she passes out in the middle of the bar. I’m tempted to haul her over my shoulder, but we’d be too conspicuous, so I pick her up once more, cradling her against my chest, and take her outside to the car.

“Christ,” I mutter as I fish the key out of my jeans and hold her at the same time. Amazingly, I manage to get her into the front seat and strap her in.

“Y/N.” I give her a little shake, because she’s worryingly quiet. “Y/N!”

She mumbles something incoherent and I know she’s still conscious. I know I should take her home, but it’s a long drive to Vancouver, and I don’t know if she’ll be sick again. I don’t relish the idea of my Audi reeking of vomit. The smell emanating from her clothes is already noticeable.

I head to The Heathman, telling myself that I’m doing this for her sake.

Yeah, tell yourself that, Grey.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She sleeps in my arms as we travel up in the elevator from the garage. I need to get her out of her skirt and her shoes. The stale stench of vomit pervades the space. I’d really like to give her a bath, but that would be stepping beyond the bounds of propriety.

And this isn’t?

In my suite, I drop her purse on the sofa, then carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. She mumbles once more but doesn’t wake. Briskly I remove her shoes and put them in the plastic laundry bag provided by the hotel. Then I unzip her skirt and pull it off stuffing the piece of clothing in the laundry bag.

She falls back on the bed, splayed out like a starfish, all pale arms and legs, and for a moment I picture those legs wrapped around my waist as her wrists are bound to my Saint Andrew’s cross.

I sit her up and she opens her eyes. “Hello, Y/N,” I whisper, as I remove her jacket slowly and without her cooperation.

“Grey. Kiss,” she mutters.

“Yes, sweetheart.” I ease her down onto the bed. She closes her eyes again and rolls onto her side, but this time huddles into a ball, looking small and vulnerable. I pull the covers over her and plant a kiss in her hair.

Now that her filthy clothes have gone, a trace of her scent has reappeared. Apples, fall, fresh, delicious…Y/N. Her lips are parted, eyelashes fanning out over pale cheeks, and her skin looks flawless. One more touch is all I allow myself as I stroke her cheek with the back of my index finger.

“Sleep well,” I murmur, and then head into the living room to complete the laundry list. When it’s done, I place the offending bag outside my suite so the contents will be collected and laundered.

Before I check my e-mails I text Welch, asking him to see if José Rodriguez has any police records. I’m curious. I want to know if he preys on drunk young women. Then I address the issue of clothes for Miss Y/L/N: I send a quick e-mail to Taylor.

•••

From: Christian Grey

RE: Miss Anastasia Steele

Date: May 20, 2023 23:46

To: J B Taylor.

——

Can you please find the following items for Miss Steele and have them delivered to my usual room before 10:00.

Skirt: Black Size 4

Shirt: White. Pretty. Size 4

Boots: Black Size 7

Socks: Size 7

Lingerie: Underwear—Size Small. Bra—Estimate 36C

Thank you.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

•••

Once it’s disappeared from my outbox, I text Elliot.

Y/N is with me. If you’re still with Bella, tell her.

He texts by return.

Will do. Hope you get laid. You soooo need it. ;)

His response makes me snort.

I so do, Elliot. I so do.

I open my work e-mail and begin to read.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nearly two hours later, I come to bed. It’s just after 1:45. She’s fast asleep and hasn’t moved from where I left her. I strip, pull on my pajama pants and a T-shirt, and climb in beside her. She’s comatose; it’s unlikely she’s going to thrash around and touch me.

I hesitate for a moment as the darkness swells within me, but it doesn’t surface and I know it’s because I’m watching the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest and I’m breathing in sync with her.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. For seconds, minutes, hours, I don’t know, I watch her. And while she sleeps I survey every beautiful inch of her lovely face. Her dark lashes fluttering while she sleeps, her lips slightly parted so I glimpse her even white teeth.

She mutters something unintelligible and her tongue darts out and licks her lips. It’s arousing, very arousing. Finally I fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

🖤 + ship of your choice?

kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

I keep thinking "I'm so bad at writing angst and anything upsetting, I hate leaving my stories as anything but lighthearted :/" but then I consistently end up writing angst into everything, including fic chapters that are supposed to be comedic and fluffy so uhhhh lets see how I do when deliberately going for emotional devastation :D !

And since I've been thinking about it lately we'll go with a premise of:

A Jason who knows he's come back from death many times but has no guarantee he'll come back from death again volunteering for a suicide mission and Tim knowing this might be his last chance to confess

There's nothing graphic, but this is all hurt no comfort, angsty as fuck sad shit with an ending that leaves it ambiguous as to whether or not this death sticks. Hope y'all enjoy!

Jason states in a flat, calm tone, "It needs to be me."

They all turn to look at him, their bodies backlit by the glow of the reactor's slowly worsening meltdown.

"What the hell are you talking about," Dick asks, while Tim's blood turns to ice in his veins.

"I didn't survive that plane crash into the meteor. I didn't survive that fall into the ocean. I didn't survive the warehouse. I've been killed over and over and come back from it every time, so if one of us has to die tonight it needs to be me."

"A terrible argument," Damian declares resolutely, standing firm despite his trembling, "We have no reason to suspect that those instances were anything other than circumstance. Random chance and dumb luck runs out. What we need is certainty, and... and Father would bring me back again. We all know it. I can take it."

"I did not come back just to throw another kid to their death! Maybe when you're gnarled and grey and about three hundred years too old to live without a lazarus pit we can talk, but until then I am not about to let you die in my stead."

Damian backs down quietly. He looks relieved, and guilty.

"Then let me do it," Tim demands, trying and failing to sound light and fearless, "Everyone else has had a turn with death, seems a little unfair doesn't it? Hogging all the afterlife experiences for yourselves?"

Jason says with quiet vehemence, "If that's how fairness works, then I will be as brutally unfair to you as I can be."

A long silence stretches between them as they stare each other down. Tim fights to keep the lump in his throat from spilling out into tears and Jason struggles between the need to see himself grieved and the yearning to comfort him and make this all easier somehow.

Finally Dick breaks the silence, "What would you like us to do for your funeral this time?"

"I want to be cremated on the bank of the Ganges with proper rites. Mild preference for a Shaivite or Shakta sect, but I'm not really picky."

And that was it. His fate was sealed.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Tim grabs his hand before he can step into the airlock leading to the reactor's emergency maintenance tunnels.

Jason glares at him, "You aren't stoppin-"

"I know!" Tim lowers his voice to a whisper, "I know..."

"Then what...?"

"I'm sorry if this isn't anything you want, but I can't let you go without saying it. I- I love you. I'm in love with you."

He looks stunned, shocked, almost hurt. Then he kisses Tim fiercely, pressing every bit of affection he can into him with the slim moments they have left. Salt stings their dry lips and they cling to each other with vain desperation until their arms ache.

When he finally pulls back Jason roughly scrubs the tears from his eyes, "Fucking cruel of you to give a dying man something to live for."

"Promise me, please, if you can, if you get a choice, if you're at all able to, please promise me you'll come back?"

"No. I love you more than bread and wine, but my death is mine and I utterly refuse to allow your feelings or anyone else's to sway me in this. However..." Jason's voice grows soft, and he lifts Tim's hand to tenderly kiss at his palm and wrist, "If I am brought back? I swear that it will be you I come back to. I swear that I will give you my heart and everything else you ask of me; this will be the only thing I ever deny you."

Tim grips him tight, squeezing his eyes shut, tears and sweat rolling down his cheeks as the reactor burns itself ever hotter. Then he shoves Jason away, into the airlock chamber.

"I hope it's quick," He knows it won't be, "I hope it doesn't hurt," He knows it will, "I hope you get what's best for you," Just as long as it's not the end you want.

"Goodbye Tim. I love you."

"I love you too. So, so much..."

The blast door swings shut between them.

[stressedemoblackbratz]

pretend

pairing: shuri x singer!black reader

warnings: swearing and fading relationship between reader and her boyfriend

a/n: as you can tell, i was definitely inspired by Zay’s own writing (the title has magically excused itself from my brain (i’m thinking lemonade, but i don’t wanna fuck up) my apologies, but i’m gonna blame that on finals). i loved the chapters and it inspired me to write something after a year. those euphoria requests wore me out lol. also, i don’t mention the death of anyone in this story. it didn’t happen…okay? okay! i might do a backstory to this? I’m not really sure, but we’ll see. i hope you enjoy babes!

words: 1.4k + not proofread

let's pretend we never met. a good excuse to play forget. let's pretend you never lied, so i can give it up all night, swallow my pride, and learn to forgive. when i'm looking for love i pretend it's you. a love that never ends.

the bed was cold, your lace band was on snug, and the food you cooked for your boyfriend of 2 years was cold.

and after all that damn cooking?

he could throw away the food and clean the dish he didn’t get to eat.

2 years and this was life. you used to bask in each others presence, go on dates, write poems together, make appearances, but now?

now you barely saw him because he was rehearsing lines with his new costar and you were trying to finish your album.

he didn’t look at you the same anymore, the house was cold, and those i love you’s we’re definitely empty.

you were perfect and just like that it was gone.

pretending like you were fine was the only thing you two had in common.

you remember one morning darius got a call stating he nailed his audition and filming would start soon. that night you two attended a movie premiere then at the after party you met t’challa and he introduced you to his sister, shuri.

now it was forced smiles on the red carpets, powdering your face after cry sessions, lying for him, and him avoiding questions about you slyly.

real enough.

now shuri, your producer for your upcoming 3rd studio album, she knew better.

she watched you write the songs, cry mid recording, consoled you when you came in with puffy eyes and swollen lips, fed you when you realized it had been some time between your last meal due to the fast paced life…she picked up the pieces.

and she hated it because she’s in love with you.

“okay! okay! but sza? ctrl literally raised me…sos is gonna eat.” you proclaimed to shuri one night after recording one song and touching up two others. it was crunch time and your label and fans wanted the album soon.

laughing at your seriousness she put the pho she had ordered down. the light you got in your eyes while speaking on the popular album was so cute to her.

you loved this shit as much as she did.

you were raw. letting each emotion out in each song and showcasing your life to shuri before showing it to those who supported you and your craft. you didn’t put on a facade in front of her even after you had been pretending for awhile.

“for me uh…” shuri paused to think after her giggles died down. she licked her bottom lip before flicking her eyes to yours. “definitely ego death by the internet. they raised me and i hope that their next album isn’t their last. i’d scream out to bast.” she started giggling again with you joining in.

two beautiful women discussing a mutual love.

“hey y/n. listen baby, i’m gonna be late, but i promise i didn’t forget.” you could hear aeva, darius’s costar, giggling in the back. “see you soon, love you.” he quickly said before the recording clicked in an ending.

according to him he wasn’t with her intimately, but you knew him. he was drawing away for awhile, way before this role. you wanted the peace of not caring or wondering what he was doing. wondering if what he once felt for you was what he felt for her just times ten.

in that moment, with tears in your bottom lash line and legs criss crossed sitting in the large black satin bed, you knew him coming home in a few hours, waking you up with sex and sorry’s you’ve learned not to believe wouldn’t cut it this time.

it hurt so bad to know that you were done.

it hurt more to know you gave up, not that the love died. you had already grieved on that. you tried so hard, but it takes two.

but you were so happy because you’d be able to address those growing feelings you had for a certain wakandan producer.

those feelings you suppressed to honor what was left of your expiring relationship.

all of that was over. you decided it.

climbing out of the king sized bed, you made your way to the bathroom. after cleaning up your face and sighing at the water clumped lash extensions, you decided you needed to shower to sooth the ache you felt simmer in your heart.

while rinsing the soap off of you, you realized your bedroom would make you feel suffocated. you needed to leave.

the only place close by though? shuri’s studio.

quickly drying off, moisturizing, putting on deodorant, and changing into a light pink crochet top, panties, black shorts, and the most beat up pair of crocs you owned, it was almost time to go.

a purse and jacket on one arm with your phone and keys in the other hand led you downtown.

shuri was up playing with beats. you needed one more song on the album before your label would review it and decide on the next steps.

she didn’t want the hard work you had done to not be cleared. this final beat would put you and her in the spotlight. this album was your baby and in a way, hers too.

she hadn’t heard griot announce your presence as she nodded her head to the beat, but she acknowledged your existence when she smelt your signature scent overwhelm her nostrils.

you definitely noticed her. she smelt so good and looked even better. her curls hung in front of her face, different vibranium rings across all 10 fingers, wearing low hanging sweats, and a tight beater that helped show off her lean, but muscular frame.

“y/n?” she called turning around. by the look of your eyes her heart dropped, but she could notice a different kind of look on your face compared to what she usually saw associated with that feature.

“what’s wrong, entle? kukho into ayenzileyo?” she asked stopping the beat, queuing a different track, and grasping your hands.

you smiled at her urgency. she was always so sweet to you.

“shuri you know i’m still learning. i only caught you calling me beautiful.” you teased with a smile. her heart didn’t feel as heavy anymore with that look. it wasn’t forced, just playful.

“kukho into ayenzileyo, i asked did he do something?” shuri said with a light smile and knowing eyes. yours darkened a bit before you looked away and contemplated on the best way to tell her.

“he promised he wouldn’t miss dinner again, he did and it’s because he wants to be with her.” shuri frowned at his actions.

“i can’t take this anymore so i’ve decided when he comes home i’ll let him know we’re done. i’m going to make sure he gets a good mover for his items and i find a good locksmith so he can’t come back.” you revealed. saying it out loud made you feel lighter.

“i’m giving it all up. i choose me and my happiness.” you whispered as she brought you into her chest. the slight jolt she endured as a result of you slamming into her made her bump the play button and start the last song you recorded together.

let’s pretend that we bout to break up…to catch the feelings so we can make up…

“i’m…i’m proud of you! this whole album was you baring it all and finding yourself…this might be the end of a chapter. you’re stepping into a new book.” shuri spoke to you. she was tired of picking up the pieces he broke. she was tired of seeing you try to fix them.

let’s pretend i ain’t your friend so we can get it on again.

“ndiyakuthandana.” she whispered her love to you.

so we can get it on again. let’s pretend we never met, a good excuse to play forget.

“nam ndiyakuthanda” you whispered right back.

i pretend it’s you…that i’m in love with…

a tattooed hand gripped the side of your face before shuri questioned you.

“you mean that shit?” she lowly whispered.

you looked into her dark eyes and thought about everything. the first session, your recent session, the parties, the conversations, the outings, the meals you ate together, the secrets you told, the feelings you shared, everything you’ve experienced with her or because of her you wouldn’t trade.

you did mean it.

a thousand times you’d say yes.

with a nod from you shuri lifted your head from her chest and kissed you.

she’s been waiting for it.

that kiss was one of many that night. clothes left on the soundboard, seven mixed calls and a few texts left from darius ignored, the sun started to come up, and a new life was brewing on the horizon.

pretending led you to what you really wanted.

shuri.

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Implied NSFW. Goodbye toe. Hello Kraken.

Edward's heart is broken. Stede, you bitch (affectionately), come get your boyfriend!

Season 2 chapters coming next week!!!

Chapter Nine - Changing of the tides

♡♡♡

Both of you free from mutiny, Izzy goes on to see to his captain. He was elevated to see Edward back onboard. He should have known he would escape even the King.

You made the crew get to work. They did so no questions asked.

You wait for Izzy by the captain's door. When it opens he steps out, he closes the door behind him and turns to you.

"Well?" You ask softly.

"He's, uh... yeah, he's okay."

You look at him a bit more expectantly.

"He's depressed, but he should be okay in a few days..."

"Izzy."

"Apparently he was going to escape with Bonnet and go to China, but Bonnet never showed up. Ed waited all night."

"Shit..."

"You know, I didn't expect that from Bonnet." Izzy sighs.

"How are you?" You ask.

"Fine."

"Izzy..."

"I'm fine. Really. I'm just glad to still be onboard and... and that you're okay too."

You smile at him.

"I'm still trying to accept what you were going to do."

"Izzy, I'm not letting you leave me again."

Izzy watches your face closely as he takes a step forward. He goes to take one of your hands, leaning in a little, but he pulls back when loud crying from the captain's room can be heard.

You both sigh.

♡♡♡

You sit on deck whittling away on a barrel. The crew are mostly pottering about. The ship was as ship shape as could be. Nothing put if place, a clean deck, tidy rigging, polished canons.

Izzy exits the captain's cabin and stands in front of the crew, a cup in his hand.

"Gentlemen! Blackbeard is in fine spirits this morning, and he sends... his regards."

Izzy and yourself had agreed to cover up Edward's depression as much as possible from the crew. There was only so much you could deal with while Edward was in this state.

"He's still a... tad under the weather, but he will be back amongst us soon."

"So, he's sick, but doing well... is the news?" Franchise asks.

"Exactly, yes! And, um, in the meantime, maybe, you could, you know, polish things, or swab the deck." Izzy tried suggesting.

"We already polished twice today." The Swede says.

"Aye, the deck's as swabbed as she gets," Buttons adds in.

Izzy takes a swing of his drink and then spits it out on the deck. "Well, you missed a spot. Have at it, chaps! Dismissed!"

Izzy turns to face you. You offer him a little smile. He sighs.

"Not you, Mr Spriggs." Izzy catches Lucius' arm as he goes to walk past him. "Blackbeard has requested your services. So, no matter what you see or hear, you do not breathe a word under pain of death. Understood?"

"Yeah," Lucius agrees, feeling less than comforted.

"Good. Fuck off."

Lucius walks over and Izzy takes a sip from his cup, looking back at you again. This time you sigh.

♡♡♡

You stand by Buttons who sails the ship. You're watching the horizon when Izzy comes up the steps.

"You got a minute?" He asks.

"Yeah."

You follow Izzy right to the back where you two cam chat quietly alone for a bit. You can see Izzy's tension building in his shoulders.

"How is he?"

"He's stopped crying."

Izzy keeps his eyes out at sea. His hands rest on the railing of the ship, but you can see his knuckles turning white.

"I need to tall some sense into him."

"Be careful, Izzy. I can't pinpoint Edward's emotions. He might lash out if we're not careful."

"Careful?" He chuckles dryly. "Blackbeard is still in there somewhere. I just need to get him out."

"Izzy..."

He turns to look at you. "I have dedicated my life to Blackbeard. My life," he hisses, "and I not about to make it all for nothing."

Izzy pushes off the railing of the ship and walks off. You watch him go.

♡♡♡

Standing on deck watching Ed sing was not what you expected to happen, but you are. Then again, Lucius did say he had been asked to write down some lyrics.

It wasn't the most cheerful of songs.

At least he was out of the cabin now, wearing one of Stede's old robes, but you'll overlook that.

Izzy is sitting next to you. His face full of confusion. You're not sure anyone here understood what was happening.

The crew awkwardly applaud his song.

"That's, uh, really great stuff, Ed." Wee John tells him.

"His name is Blackbeard, or Captain!" Izzy yells.

"Izzy, no, Izzy." Edward stands. "Actually, I do want to be called Edward from now on. And thank you, you guys. It's pretty difficult to lay yourself bare in front of others."

The conversation goes on about others expressing themselves. Buttons sings a note to express himself and Edward gets excited.

"The sheer amount of talent on this ship! Why are we even pirates?" Ed smiles. "You know what? We should have a talent show."

The crew get excited.

Izzy tenses again.

♡♡♡

You head down to Izzy's cabin and see him sitting there with his head in his hands. He had gone to have a word with Edward alone in his room.

After that strange occurrence in deck, Edward had seemed more lighthearted. More open. He had gone back into his room to clean up.

Izzy had taken his chance to have a word with him, showing him who Blackbeard was supposed to be.

Edward got angry, but Izzy was pleased. Blackbeard was still in there somewhere.

"You okay?"

Izzy looks up and sighs. "Fine."

"You gotta stop telling me that. I don't believe you, you know?"

He looks up at you. His eyes look a little tired. It's been a long day.

"Is it too much to want to go back to the way things were?"

You walk over to him and sit down on the bed beside him. Since Edward came back, Izzy had taken back his old cabin. You had returned to sleeping with the crew, but Izzy couldn't deny wanting you to stay.

"Not exactly. I know where you're coming from, I do. But I also know that Stede made him very happy. Doesn't everyone have the right to be happy?"

"Yeah, but what I mean is, we're pirates. We don't get that kind of happiness. We do what pirates should do."

"But can't have love?"

"You can't have both," he says.

You frown as you gaze at the end of your boots. "What of you can?"

Izzy looks at you. You left your head and hold out your hand. Izzy drops his gaze to your palm and finds himself frozen for a moment.

A wooden sparrow.

"You remade it."

"Yeah..."

Izzy reaches out slowly and takes it from you, his fingers gently tickling your palm. He handles the sparrow with care. This one is a little smaller than the last, but it's still as good as the other one.

"Thank you," he whispers.

You look at him. His eyes are still on the sparrow in his hand, but his head is facing to enough to really look him over.

"Izzy, I care about you."

He lifts his eyes to meet yours.

"I always cared about you. Before I became a ghost story, during the entire 6 years I was apart from you, and even now after everything."

A pause. Only the sound of his breathing.

"Izzy, what if we can still be pirates and love someone? Wouldn't you want to know what that feels like? To have what they did?"

He swallows, the muscles in his neck moving under collar.

"I don't want to be weak," he says quietly.

"Who said it would make you weak?"

"Look at fucking Edward."

"You're not Edward. You're Izzy Hands. And I'm not Stede Bonnet."

You can see the way Izzy slightly shudders.

"Izzy, I've been in love with you for years. Figured it didn't mean much in this lifestyle, but I'm taking my chance. I never left you on purpose before, and never plan to. I'm sticking around for as long as you will have me, and nothing about our lifestyle on this ship would change a God damn thing."

A shaky breath escapes past his lips.

"Izzy, if you feel even a slight bit love for me, please share it, because I don't want to go another day without knowing. And if you don't, tell me now. We can go back to how we were."

He shakes his head, eyes glossy, lips parting to day something. No words come out.

You want to reach out and hold him, but he moves first. His lips are on yours before you can even fully comprehend what's happening.

You kiss back eagerly, hands grabbing at anything they can. You pull him closer, needing Izzy Hands as physically close as possible.

Izzy can't let go.

All these years he's been waiting for a moment like this, and now it's here. Finally he has you in his arms. Your lips against his. Your fingers in his hair. Your flesh against his palm.

Never had he thought the day would come when he could have you like this. Those impossible dreams made reality.

Izzy Hands loves you.

You love Izzy Hands.

♡♡♡

Late that night. Izzy and yourself are curled up together in his bed, both naked and tangled in each others limbs. Love in it's moat intimate form between two lovers.

This was supposed to be the best night of his life so far. The day he got to kiss you, hold you, love you.

It all came crashing down.

He had pushed Edward just enough. Just enough to awaken the Kraken.

It was Izzy's gasping scream that woke you. Blackbeard hovered over him. You panicked and screamed as Izzy's little toe was shoved into his mouth. Blackbeard covered his jaw, forcing Izzy to eat it.

"Eat up. That's it. Don't forget to chew."

You cover your mouth, watching. Izzy does as he's told.

"Threaten me again, ever... I'll feed you the rest," Blackbeard states. "Understand?"

"Yes! Yes, Blackbeard. Yes." Izzy nods.

"OK. Clean yourself up and come find me. Much work to do."

Izzy nods.

"And you," Blackbeard looks at you. "Get out. Don't let me catch you with Izzy again."

Blackbeard leaves.

You stare at the door and then turn to Izzy. He loses his smile and rests his head back against the pillow.

Blood stains the bed.

♡♡♡

Everything that belonged to Stede Bonnet is thrown off the ship. The crew made to gather and dispose of everything.

Izzy hobbled around with the help of a cane, his foot bandaged up, and gave out orders. Blackbeard kept you close to his side.

"Blackbeard is himself, again." Izzy spoke proudly to the crew.

Yes, Blackbeard was back. But at the cost of everything else.

You watch Izzy make his way across the deck, yelling at the crew to hurry up. Blackbeard stands menacingly over them.

Your heart aches to hold Izzy again, but you cannot. No. Love is forbidden.

Pirates must be pirates.

♡♡♡

A majority of the crew from the Revenge were taken to a small island in the middle of nowhere, basically.

Frenchie and Jim were the only ones being kept behind. Blackbeard was recruiting for his new crew.

Izzy took them all out there under the impression that was where the talent shown was going to be held.

They fell for it.

Izzy returned to the ship.

You stood beside Blackbeard as he had Jim knocked out, and Frenchie came in.

"I heard you can sew."

Frenchie got the grasp of what was happening and nodded.

Things were falling into place.

♡♡♡

Blackbeard stood at the top of the ship, you on one side, Izzy on the other. It took everything in you not to look at him.

Izzy was in much the same predicament.

Blackbeard drew one of his guns from it's holster and pointed it at Frenchie. The new flag was raised.

Blackbeard was back.

If only Izzy had known. If only there had been a warning for what would happen once Blackbeard returned.

Maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to love each other properly like you wanted.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana - @the-shenny-of-azkaban - @cool-ontherun-world -

[night-heron-writes]

My Thoughts on Spy x Family Chapter 75

Warning: This post contains spoilers for Chapter 75 of the manga

Firstly, the stellas were very much deserved all around. All four of them were very brave the entire time, and even though I think Anya and Damian each deserved an extra stella for the bomb collars around their necks, I wouldn't be surprised if Eden has a policy of not giving out more than one stella at a time to each student.

Becky wanting to use the event to launch her singing career is hysterical and honestly a very 6-year-old thing to do.

Now for the parents' reactions:

Mr. Blackbell wins 2nd place in the Most Concerned Parent Contest. He was literally ready to go to war for her and started bawling the moment she was safe.

The Anya/Yor reunion was sweet and went down pretty much as I expected. I am glad Anya got to break down and cry now that she and everyone else are safe.

Twilight's reaction was kinda underwhelming, but I'm banking on him just absolutely breaking down once he gets back home. He's probably still running on adrenaline and hasn't really processed anything yet.

But Melinda. Holy shit. This woman is complicated. Where do I even start with her?

I'm noticing how the positive, caring thoughts/emotions come first, and then are followed by the appallingly cold stuff. It's like her first, instinctual reaction is to love and worry for Damian, but she's desperately trying to convince herself she doesn't care.

Interestingly enough, the way she's talking here makes me wonder if she is Donovan's second wife. Not once has Melinda ever mentioned Demetrius, even with the Mommy Club. She did, however, bring up Damian in conversation with Yor.

If she is indeed Mrs. Desmond No. 2, then I'm very curious ab what might have happened to her predecessor. Her being Donovan's second wife would potentially explain the seemingly large age gap between Demetrius and Damian.

It also seems like she didn't want children, or at least didn't want to have children in this particular relationship. Given what we know of Donovan and what we now know of Melinda's psyche, I think its safe to say he is at the very least emotionally abusing his family and quite possibly doing much worse. He seems like the type to pull some messed up psychological shit. It would make sense imo for Melinda to not want to bring kids into that kind of household. But I can imagine her wishes not being respected, partly bc of societal pressure and partly bc Donovan doesn't seem to care what anyone else wants.

That might explain her abrupt attitude switch, if she has loads of Donovan-related trauma. She literally went from Yuri-levels of devotion to and obsession over her son to wishing he'd died in the hijacking within like 0.1 seconds after Donovan was mentioned. She even calls him "that man" instead of "my husband" or "your father", which is honestly very telling.

I wonder if Melinda trying to convince herself she doesn't care about Damian is so that Donovan can't use him against her. If this is the case, then Donovan getting wind of her actual feelings towards Damian could be disastrous for them both. This of course doesn't excuse her behavior in the slightest, but is one interesting theory to explain her mental and emotional state.

Melinda seems to think that Damian's existence traps her in the Donovan household. She both loves him because he's her son and resents him because he keeps her tied to a waking nightmare, hence her wishing he'd died in the hijacking. She probably thinks that if he'd died, they'd both be free. If she didn't have him to worry about, she would likely run away to the in-universe equivalent of Italy or something. I can't imagine her being happy in her current situation.

All in all, I'm starting to think that living in the dorms is really the safest, healthiest option for the Desmond kids. They may face ridiculously high expectations, but at least they have a solid routine and aren't in a house where they have to wonder if their parents actually care for their well-being.

I think it would be fascinating if at some point Melinda suffers a breakdown and ends up a patient of everybody's favorite psychiatrist, Loid Forger. What other kinds of issues lurk beneath the surface of her mind?

[princess-of-the-corner]

Goooosh, I just has such a fun outline in my head for a ML/Yu Yu Hakusho sort of not fusion exactly, but more like inspiration.

OK, so canon & season 1 are as normal, but in Despair Bear, after Adrien & Chloe's falling out she finds herself walking the streets brooding, fretting, ETC. Encounters a kid & manages to be 'nice' to them, maybe Mannon for simplicities sake. Then ends up saving her life ala Yusuke by running into traffic to push her out of the way.

Ironically if she hadn't intervened the driver would have veered right & Manon would be fine.

Cue ghost!Chloe being extremely pissed off, before encountering a Ferrywoman who explains Chloe's spirit was supr out of whack, partially cos ofher own issues, partially cos left over Remnants from Hawk Moth, there was a spark & well.

She's not quite 'dead' even if she appears that way currently.

She cam come back to life, with the expectation she'll be an medium on Earth in exchange for the help. But her trial to prove she is reliable is caring for a spirit egg. If it has emotions with a bad origin point poured ino it the creature will eat her, if they are positive it will help her return to life and be her companion.

Chloe almost gives up early.

Spying on her father to try and get some "Positive vibes" she encounters him & Audrey talking and.. Well its not great. Audrey doesn't give a shit & Andre muses Chloe was becoming a handful, still he is sad, but Audrey offers him Zoe as a replacement & he's OK. Her guide is pretty sympathetic & convinces her to try her very public, big event wake to see if there's anyone worth returning for.

"The Wake", does change her mind.

Adrien's basically catatonic crying & has to be hand held out by Nathalie. (Really Gabriel, you couldn't even turn up for this!?)

Sabrina has a full on breakdown, because what is she supposed to do now? She needs Chloe, Chloe was supposed to be there for her! (I did not realize I mattered that much)

Miss Bustier tears into anyone slightly rude (Some students & teachers) before expressing regret as she saw Chloe just needed a helping hand & feels she didn't do enough. (Stop making me feel bad, I'm dead!)

Chloe resolves to come back, even if it means having a job when she does.

Also she is definitely going to have words for her 'father' & some of her classmates, oh yes- wait positive thoughts positive thoughts haha.

Some chapters would involve seeing Chat Noir breakdown over her death to Ladybug & reveal himself & Visa versa, they agree to keep it a secret.

(Her death made Adrien reflective on how/why Chloe was like that)

She does some dream therapy with Sabrina & grudgingly encourages her to make friends with others over holding onto grudges for Chloe.

She wants to do dream therapy with Adrien, but the Agreste manor is super warded against ghosts for some reason.

She might do some dream therapy with Marinette.

Then Kagami turns up (Early) beats Adrien but is unsatisfied & Chloe spends the fight heckling her, then being annoying afterwards until Kagami addresses her.

Yup, Kagami can see ghosts & is none to fond of Chloe & ends up AKumatized (Oh come on!!)

Kagami: Your existence taints both my failures and my victories!

Basically, Kagami's mom is a spiritual power house & the one sent to train Chloe. Kagami' worked her whole life to awaken her spiritual powers & just by dying, Chloe is going to be at her level, minimum & Adrien was off his game cos he was still grieving.

Still, they resolve things, & Kagami helps protect Sabrina from some vengeful bullies maybe? Or passes on a message from Chloe to Adrien.

Anyway things seem to be going well, when Hawk Moth decides to posses her body!

Oh right, so the explanation for Chloe still being "Alive" is some lingering magic from when she was Akumatized putting her in a "death state". The Lucky Charm couldn't change it one way or the other though so she's comatose.

Suffice to say everyone, but especially Chat & Chloe are pissed.

Hawk: Any empty vessel wouldn't do for this possession, but this girl always had so much hurt and rage inside her. Now bereft a mind to hinder me she will be the ultimate Akuma! My AKuma!

Chloe: Land Lord, you're evicted!

Its more dramatic than that & she technically sacrifices her chance to come back by handing her egg off to Kagami. (who uses her spiritual skills to keep it alive) so she can stop HK from killing the heroes as Chat won't Cataclysm Chloe's body & the Akuma is her body.

So Gabriel is evicted, Chloe briefly wakes up but fades & is now semi tethered to her body & waiting to pass on.

Adrien brings Kagami to visit her the next day & there's brief talk of how if she were awake Chloe might joke about needing a princes kiss to wake her up.

Kagami leans into a bit and Chloe is getting increasingly flushed. Then Adrien has to step away for a moment & Kagami reveals the egg is alive, being kept so by her spirit and she returns it to Chloe.

Then reveals she has been charged to wake Chloe up, offering some of her own spiritual energy via a lip transfer.

Chloe (OO)

Then she just taps Chloe's lips.

Chloe: That! That was what you had me all worked up about!?

Kagami: Did you want me to kiss you?

Chloe: MAaaabbbyyyeeeeee (Wakes up)

There's tears, reunions, resolutions, death staring at her dad anytime he tries to use her for a press conference. "Physical therapy" with Tomoe & the hatching of the spirit beast which is technically both Chloe & Kagami's now. (Feathery dragon) Actually managing to chill her shit when bantering with some students who she was justly pissed off at.

& after that not sure XD

Oh that's a hot mess of a haunting but it works out great!

[alena-reblobs]

Trigun Bookclub Trimax Vol13 Part2

Vol01: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  | Vol02: Part 1 | Part 2

Trimax: Vol01 Part 1Vol01 Part 2 | Vol02 Part 1Vol02 Part 2 | Vol 03 Part 1 | Vol03 Part2 | Vol04 Part1 | Vol04 Part2 | Vol05 | Vol06 | Vol07 | Vol08 Part1 | Vol08 Part2 | Vol09 Part1 | Vol09 Part2 | Vol10 Part1 | Vol10 Part2 | Vol10 Part3 | Vol10 Part4 | Vol11 Part 1 | Vol11 Part2 | Vol12 Part1 | Vol12 Part2 | Vol12 Part3 | Vol13 Part1 | Vol13 Part2

Review for chapters 4-6 under the cut!

Chapter 4:

Oooh Elendira is removing her under gear! (is that the term? the restraints, as she said)

djsfas their height and body differences. If they weren't trying to kill each other they could be so cute together (they still are, just in a very deadly way)

It was long overdue that we really got to see how good Elendira really fights when she's giving it her all! Very cool pose.

I might just have not read so thoroughly, but I wonder where they got their information about the planet's state? Like, knowing about Luida...

...but also about Vash? Is this information they got from the hivemind look into Knives' plant amalgamation, or have did they have other resources I forgot, like listening to radio frequencies, or stuff? I'll be waiting to see if any of you guys have any better idea about this.

Oooh and he can feel Vash's aura. Really cool that you are first only shown Legato's reaction and the fog...

...and THEN the destroyed Legato-gadget (Legadget) which even makes him flinch.

AND BAM banger of a page. It's Vash with his black coat. I love love the idea to also turn the coat black, to change that design for this moment, to really show he's that much closer to death. And the pose oh my. Still...well not really standing. But head bowed low. Holding onto himself like in pain. Gun cast downwards like his power has lost him. And the myriad of bullets lying around him to depict how much he just used... I really just love black coat Vash. It's giving me emotions because it's the embodyment of his lowest point in life. It's so tragic... (and it also looks so cool)

RAZLOOOOO YESSSS ♥♥♥♥

Chapter 5:

Trimax is making me sometimes think my reading comprehension is bad but is...Razlo owing the debt to Livio? Is it not Livio who is alive thanks to Razlo?

Don't mind me, just putting these into my Crimsonfang collection.

My boy is having fun!!! <3

I really hope that they'll have Elendira grown up in season 2 of stampede (looks like that going by drawings we have seen!) and be her just as intimidating an opponent as here in Trimax.

Only high quality pages here, damn.

Chapter 6:

With how good of a fighter Razlo is, this must be one of the very few, if not the first occassion he's feeling something like fear for his life...

The vial!! The vial from Wolfwood! The vial given by Vash to save Livio! Wolfwood's vial!

Anytime Wolfwood appears after vol10 it deals -20 instant damage.

On the next pages Elendira states that they switched personalities again, so I tried to pinpoint the moment, as this looks like it! Razlo's eye is fading out, but in the next panel we have the eye on the reader's left, Livio's metaphorical half, being shown! Nicely done artistically!

Little emote Raz <:3

Aaah it's so cool that with vol10 the Razlo thing isn't just over, but we get more and it's being addressed again!

Aw I'd like to think that Razlo is crying because he's moved...like this is a big and important conversation for him too, and it probably means a lot to him that Livio apologizes again. And Razlo saying he's not good at this feeling stuff! Daww.

Not necessarily an intended parallel, but a nice one still: Both times judgement being cast from above. Wolfwood was struck by Chapel's gun fire afterwards but Livio can evade Elendira's nails! Not that I'm drawing a connection between Elendira and Chapel, I just think it's neat how we have these similiar pages for Wolfwood and Livio.

What I also really enjoy is that Livio manages to get back into the fight and keep up against Elendira not by miraculously getting stronger, but by teaming up with Razlo! It feels important to his character arc that this is what helps him in this most important battle. Before they'd done everything seperately, but now..!

Whoopsie. Elendira seems to have something up her sleeve that even Razlo isn't sure he'll be able to help. Now all he can do is trust Livio that he'll be the one to finish this for once!

Next and last chapters for this volume in the next post!

[sayakxmi]

[Magi rewatch] Episode 14: Alibaba's Answer [Part 1]

Alrite, let's get the party started. I kept telling myself I'll watch it today for the past week, and, well, then I didn't, obviously. Certainly doesn't help that I was jumping around the series a little, just because I felt like rereading certain parts, whoops.

I need you to understand that this is what stares at me whenever I go back to that player in the tab, awaiting its moment.

Her

Weird magic shit

Done with the monkeys

Bro, I still think about the fact that most of the fight was an anime-exlusive thing, god damn

,,,that first one kinda looks like it's crying over the (most likely) dead guy, I'm kind of sad.

Sadly, no cool "social anxiety metaphor" with all these eyes, I thought it was neat, but oh well.

You don't understand, he's walking so slow, it looks kind of silly, but also he's leaning forward a little like he's about to punch the bitch (not yet)

Also, there was no cool Alibaba telling people to think carefully abt the whole slave nation thing. Tho maybe it'll happen a little later?

Like, I think 23rd's reaction was really cut short in general.

Also, there's no Alibaba placing himself between Sahbmad and 23rd, god damn it, the anime is just so adamant about skipping these moments. And I find them such an interesting trait of Alibaba - he constantly places himself between the people he cares about (or feels somewhat responsible for, like Aladdin in the 2nd chapter) and danger, literally putting himself in danger in the process. It's... sweet, but also a bit concerning, obviously. Because it's not just a few times, it's an actual habit of manga!Alibaba. He might not always be able to fight, but he still wants to protect others, to the point of risking his life. You get why I say it's a bit concerning?

There will be a scene later on, not in the anime, god fucking dammit, of course it won't, but in the manga, where after getting his shit wrecked by the attackers after leaving Zagan, and also shielding Morgiana at that time, he still drags himself to shield Sharrkan after he gets cut. Like, Alibaba can't even stand, and he still makes himself a human shield. Good thing Sharrkan was still mostly fine, cuz Alibaba was about to take that stab.

I will definitely get back to it when it happens, but, anyway, the anime annoys me for skipping all of that. It happens far too often for it not to be a pretty important character trait.

Anyway, I feel like as he walks, anime!Alibaba looks more... hm, openly angry I'd say? In the manga he keeps his cool, which I think is neat. Like, in the anime he argues, in the manga he states a fact kind of thing?

But then in the moments where he's supposed to look more emotional it feels a bit flat for some reason. Might be because of the artstyle, tho.

I wanted the machete-grab, but the screen ended up looking kind of silly, he looks like he's like 5 years younger than he actually is, which is somewhere past 17. He's still 17 when he leaves Sindria and there's that age thing with Pisti, but I think he's said to be almost 18 then. I'll correct myself I'm I'm wrong, but that would mean he's 17 now (he spent 6 months in Sindria. Which was timeskipped. Of course.)

Bitchslapped as he deserved to be. Also, love how unbothered the guy in the bg looks. Eh, just your regular coup d'etat, it do be like that sometimes.

Oh, but looking closer, he might be actually thinking "god, fucking finally somebody slapped that moron".

Asdfghjkl, how hard did Alibaba hit him for him to spin around like that

Again, anime!Alibaba feels a bit more expressive, while in the manga he seems to be completely calm. Maybe even a little sad that things had gotten to this point.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a bit overly-judgemental with these expressions and shit, but, honestly, I do think it matters. You get different impressions of the characters, even if you don't realize that. Manga!Alibaba is empathetic but fair, gets overwhelmed easily, but he can keep his cool once he gets a moment to breathe and figure things out in his mind, and then he puts all of his focus in the task at hand. Anime!Alibaba feels more openly emotional, which isn't that bad, but they don't really draw him with the same form of poise Manga!Alibaba is capable of, he's more hasty, too, while in the manga he's more willing to try things like deception rather than fight right away. And while he's still empathetic, he comes off at a bit weird at times, like empathizing with Jamil in the Dungeon, while in the manga he was like, sucks to be you, anyway. All in all, I'd say that Anime!Alibaba simply comes off as more shounen-like than Manga!Alibaba.

And, as I've said numerous times, it's not just him. Sinbad is even more of a hypocrite, and frankly, the anime kind of loses the fact that he's insanely charismatic and good at social stuff in general - he also comes off as more hasty than the manga one. Manga!Sinbad knows how to play the long game, Anime!Sinbad just wants to get shit done immediately. And also tries to get people to fight, while in the manga he more lifts their spirits up, and does support their (well, mostly Alibaba's) attempts at talking it out.

I won't lie, Anime!Morgiana comes off as a bit of a meathead at times, all too willing to just kick stuff right away, while Manga!Morgiana only restores to violence when she isn't given other options. Though the anime does give her more screentime, I'll give them that.

And Aladdin, for the most part, lacks the agency he has in the manga. He's even more of an innocent child, which makes him terrifying, when he does get himself involved with stuff. He doesn't really have a moral compass, it's just, if I like you, I'll help you, and if I don't, I won't. It makes him seem so insensitive, which very much isn't like Manga!Aladdin who, while somewhat confused at times, means well, and is quick to at least try to help, when there's trouble.

Anyway, I'll keep comparing that stuff. Back to the ep.

My beautiful daughter.

Weird magic shit, but also

Ja'far: Oh come on, what is it now?! Woman: Wow, so pretty :D Masrur: (read at 6:15)

Masrur just couldn't care less, beautiful.

Ok, fine, he looks surprised a moment later

These shiny eyelashes, lmao

And he's there

That's creepy as fuck. Awesome.

"That's the guy I'm supposed to marry?"

King?

No king.

I love her face here, lmao.

God, I just love them

No more Kingdom

w hat

Why is Notre Empire playing

REPUBLIC!

Srsly, why Notre Empire

Bro's late, but to his credit, it's for a good reason.

Technically he doesn't look happy and all, but all Alibaba'd said was "Sorry I left, but this is my answer", so it kinda doesn't work all that well :/

[tavina-writes]

oh i just saw your chapter lengths excel and as someone who’s wishing they could write longer chapters, do you have any tips for how you write/outline? like how did you decide the projected word count and stuff?

Hi nonny!

I'm not entirely sure I have good suggestions for this since my chapters have always tended towards being long, and my outlining is uhhh "well, it happens?" but I do have several thoughts that might be helpful!

The thoughts got really long, so they're now under a cut!

I only really think about the projected length as a benchmark, based on how "big" a story idea I think I have. For the fic that you're referring to, I knew that it was a setup I really enjoyed (arranged marriage) and that it would cover a number of years (so stuff has to happen in those years), and I thought it would work better in a four act structure (in the beginning) so I thought like "oh it'll probably be four chapters with 10k per chapter, so that'll be a 40k fic!"

As things progressed this obviously became not the case given the absolutely giant status of the chapters and the fact that three act structure worked a lot better with where I saw the ending going so there's four parts in each "act" as it were hence 12 chapters. (Originally I was going to do a fairly long epilogue type situation focused on Xichen and Ningning's descendants in "act four" but I've since yeet that into the sun bc I didn't like it lol.)

I adjust the projected length based on having finished chapters since my chapters tend to be pretty evenly split length wise (give or take a few thousand words), so since the first act was ~90k it's probably going to be closer to 270k than 250k but I'm currently in denial about that bit lmao, so really! after you have the first couple chapters, and you have a forecast of how many chapters it's going to take, projecting a project length is fairly simple math to do!

Okay that said, how do I actually project/outline/do the writing process? This is complicated because I'm very much a chaos writer who uh, doesn't write in order and doesn't finish scenes and doesn't start scenes at the beginning or finish at the end (I tend to write scenes in thirds or parts and then stitch them together so, that's the state of affairs here lolsob. I don't think that helps anyone very much.)

BUT: I find it really really helps to have goals, sometimes multiple per scene and to check back on those after I think the scene's done. The goals can be:

plot related -> introduce character A, introduce motivations for character A, provide a transition from setting A to setting B, further the conflict between character A and character B, etc

character emotion related -> establishing that Character A has changed since a previous scene, Character B introspection, filling in background on why Character A or B believes x or y or acts in a certain way

details and research related -> this for me is generally related to time period, setting, time of day, time of year, what the characters are physically doing in each scene and how they're oriented in relation to each other, etc which I find really important to like, decreasing white room syndrome and grounding the characters in a real place as they talk or fight or have a sad cry in the bath or whatever, so after the plot and character emotion related goals are through I also check like "hey is his bathtub floating in some undisclosed location or?"

So basically I "outline" by breaking each chapter down into "okay: where do I want all the characters and their various subplots to be by the end of the chapter vs the start of the chapter?" and I go backwards and fill in all the scenes I think would make sense to get characters from A to D or however, and then after I do that (or tbh as I'm writing) I shove in more scenes that explain how characters get from like, A.5 to A.7 which I didn't initially think needed explaining and back and forth until A->D has been achieved. This also means (for me and how I write) normally if all the other chapters have been 21-24k and I "finish" a chapter that's only 19k I've dropped a plot point somewhere and need to go back and spackle it back in.

Another really helpful longfic tackling thing that I have going on is where I keep a "notes" or "character index" document where I periodically update with like: new OCs and their details, new setting details, that one nice source I found about incense burners, the music I was listening to for x or y vibe, my meta thoughts about how or why a certain character might be acting a certain way...etc etc.

For example, my most recently completed novella-length fic (after court, returning to different doors; 39k) had this as its original "outline"

Then, after I got a fair ways into that I made a new set of notes about what I wanted to achieve based on what was going on with the scenes I'd written and what I still needed to fill in:

and then while I was writing the mountain ghost thing I stopped to type this down about WZL:

And then I filled in the situation at the Yunmeng Discussion Conference with Hints Of A Past, etc.

Basically I think your outlining should be whatever you think will help you remember what goes where, and it's really helpful to have goals about what you want to get done every chapter rather than "I need x amount of words per chapter." Some fics want long chapters! some fic want short chapters! some fics are long! some are short!

[procrastinatorproject]

I'm back! :D Today's entry comes courtesy of @regionalpancake (by way of @jazzfic's original prompt. Yes, still.)

I was talking about how all the writing I've been doing has essentially just been the same story in so many self-indulgent repititions. To which Pancakes, rightfully, pointed out that many people will, say, watch reality tv that is essentially the same story week in and week out and extremely self-indulgent, too. "[And] they don't even have warp cores!"

So, of course, my brain immediately grabbed onto that and I had to pen another chapter in this ongoing saga...

Context: This takes place a couple weeks or so after the big showdown on Coppelius. As many people, myself included, have pointed out, the crash on the plantes' surface must have knocked out all of La Sirena's Emergency Holograms, which is why they didn't activate during the ample emergencies Picard and Agnes ran into during the climax of season 1. @thelaithlyworm actually wrote a lovely little story about this issue (it makes me cry every time!), and this snippet happens in the aftermath of all of that.

---

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

There was a flash, a bang, and then a rain of sparks followed by a puff of smoke.

“Jesus sufferin’ Christ!” Ian crawled out from under the injector assembly and glared at his colleague. “You do not sneak up on a man when he’s handling live circuitry! I could have blown up the ship!”

The EMH was utterly unfazed. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t be working on live circuitry in your current state.”

“Ach.” Ian waved a dismissive hand and adjusted his hat. “I told you I’m fine. And the injectors have been acting up all week. What if we need to make a quick getaway and suddenly the warp core goes offline?”

Emil raised his eyebrows and gave his colleague a judgy look. “The captain doesn’t seem worried about it.”

“The captain,” Ian said as he got to his feet, “has other things on his mind.” He tucked his hands under his arms and practically dared Emil to find a way of denying that.

To his credit, the EMH didn’t try. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t be working. You shouldn’t be in here at all.” He made an expansive gesture before shoving his hand back into his pocket.

Ian looked around Sirena’s small engine room. Apart from the relay he’d just blown out, every bit of machinery was in acceptable working order. But between all the recent battles and chases and trans-warp conduits, not to mention a full-on crash landing without any power, a lot of routine maintenance had been neglected. To Emil and the captain, everything might look fine at first glance, but Ian could practically feel all the little problems that had been accumulating over time. Sure, a .078° misalignment in the injectors might not sound like much, but it had almost doubled since the last time he’d managed to check on the assembly., The growing discrepancy was like an itch at the back of Ian’s algorithmic mind.

“I’ll be done in a tick,” he said imploringly. “Just let me finish this wee bit of maintenance and then —”

“You nearly blew up the ship.” Emil sounded almost offended. “Do you really think I’ll just let you continue fiddling with highly sensitive engine parts when you’re so clearly unfit for duty?”

Ian’s emotional algorithms shifted slightly towards defensiveness and he pulled his arms more tightly around himself. “I dinnea mean that. I wouldn’t have blown up the ship. You startled me, is all.”

“Yes and that’s exactly the problem!” Emil took a deep breath, then he continued a little calmer: “Don’t you always say that you optimized your input buffers so much that no unexpected sound or sight could ever overload them?”

Ian could tell where Emil was going and a part of him knew that his colleague was right. Still, he wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “It’s a minuscule lapse in compression efficiency. Barely noticeably. It only means that my responses have slowed down to the same baseline as all of yours.”

Emil didn’t dignify that with a response but simply gave Ian a Look instead.

“Besides,” Ian continued quickly, “there’s no guarantee that shutting down now is going to help. That fundamental field-replicator the synths gave the captain might work wonders on hardware, but it has thrown the computer maintenance routines for a loop.”

Once again, Emil knew better than to argue with the facts.

Ever since Dr Jurati had brought the holograms back online a week ago, they had all felt the lingering effects of both the damage Sirena had taken when the Orchid drained her power and the wonderful new synth tool that was only partially compatible with the ship’s patchwork systems. Raffi Musiker, Dr Jurati and the captain had been trying to get things back into working order, but with everything that had happened over the last month, Ian could understand that none of them had a lot of time on their hands right now. And what little time they did have, they chose to spend together or with their new friends, and who could really blame them for that? After everything they’d been through, they deserved to finally enjoy this bit of connection.

“Ian.”

Emil’s hand on his elbow made the EEH jump again. He blinked, surprised to find the EMH standing much closer than he had been.

Emil’s face no longer showed his typical exasperation, but instead was brimming with deep sympathy. “I know you feel responsible for the ship, and you can’t bear it if you feel like you’re neglecting her. But you’re an essential part of Sirena, too. And right now, that part needs your attention and care more than any of the others.”

“Ach.” Ian grabbed the front of his hat and pulled it down over his eyes for a moment, trying to escape Emil’s unbearably kind look. But he knew his colleague was right. Of course he was. And if Ian hadn’t been so run down, he probably would have seen it a lot sooner, too.

With a sigh he shoved his hat back in place and put his hands on his hips. “Aye, you’re right. I’ll shut myself down for a few hours and let the computer run some maintenance. Just let me finish this bit and then I’ll —”

“Now, Ian.”

“Yes, yes, fine, now.” Ian cast another look around the engine room. The warp core was humming away, its harmonics ever so slightly off from where the EHH would like them to be at rest, but close enough that it still sent his diagnostic subroutines something akin to reassurance. “You know,” he mused, staring at the swirl of colours, “given our recent troubles, maybe I shouldn’t shut off all the way. If I keep my matrix running and merely put all higher processing into standby, it won’t slow down the maintenance subroutines but I can access my cache and restart much faster in case of an emergency.”

Emil made some disapproving noise, but after a moment he huffed: “If that’s what it takes, fine. But I’m putting Enoch in charge of deciding what constitutes a real emergency for at least the next twelve hours.”

Ian looked at him over his shoulder. “Eight. That’ll be more than enough to —”

“Ten,” Emil said calmly, “and that’s final.”

For a moment, they looked at each other, the air bristling with tension, but then Ian’s lips twitched and he chuckled. “All right, you win. Ten hours.” He stretched and simulated a yawn. It seemed appropriate, somehow. “And I’ll set up additional monitoring so I’ll wake up if the computer’s maintenance cycle gets interrupted.”

Emil gave him another long look.

“So it’ll alert Enoch if the computer’s cycle gets interrupted and he can fix it,” Ian emended.

“Good.” Emil clicked his fingers, and suddenly, the large pile of holographic pillows and blankets that was usually reserved for sickbay was settling in a colourful heap against one of the walls of the engine room. The EMH gave Ian a knowing look. “I’d suggest finding somewhere less noisy to sleep, but knowing you, this actually constitutes a ‘restful ambience’, doesn’t it.”

For a brief moment, Ian rested his hand against the gently thrumming warp core. “Aye,” he said, more to himself, “this’ll do nicely.”

[carletes]

3,5,29 :)

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits?

I think ¡Revolución! because it has done everything I wanted it to do. I get the most emotional about this story because it’s truly truly truly a labor of love and hope. Maybe that’s cheating because I only finished revolución this year, I didn’t start it this year, but yeah. I keep going back to it fearful that maybe I’ll find smth about it cringey, but I don’t, and that makes me feel soooo proud and happy! Not to be super self-aggrandizing, but idk if I’ve read a fic like it before. And idk if I’ve read fiction like it either??? IDK IDK tell me if I’m delusional!!!

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

HONESTLY. HGIFTBN. I GENUINELY didn’t think it was going to be as widely loved as it is especially because I wrote it in a fugue state and it was LITERALLY inspired by a fucking TikTok so the fact that it might genuinely be the thing I’ve written that people reread the most is WILD.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

UGH. there's quite a few. but what i'm really really proud of is the tension at the end of chapter 7 of tsor (also a lot of the battle scenes, b/c i didn't know i could write battle scenes!!). long excerpt below:

There was silence, but the silence did not take the place of the odd coiling within Lando - or perhaps uncoiling - nor the place of something heavy in the air between them. Lando’s senses seemed amplified. He felt Carlos’ fingers, long and sinewy, flex against his side. Nerves? He could hear his own heart, of course, ridiculous, ungodly in its volume. But there was also something beyond sense, beyond traditional perception, urgent and- hungry? Hungry.

That non-perception only intensified as they drew closer to Carlos’ rooms. Lando’s rooms were further ahead. 

“I can walk you to your room first,” Carlos said as they drew closer. Lando wanted to say yes. Just to spend more time with him. But, instead, he shook his head regretfully. 

“I-it’s okay. I can- walk myself.”

“I am sure you can,” Carlos said, and his voice also sounded…something. Oh, his thumb was stroking Lando’s side. Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess, why did that make Lando want to cry. 

They reached the door to Carlos’ rooms. Carlos took a breath, oddly deep, and opened the door with the hand that was erstwhile against Lando’s side. He stepped through the threshold and turned to look at Lando. Lando just stood there, feeling unmoored without Carlos’ touch. He could not bring himself to move. They stood like that for several moments, gazing at each other. Even though they had parted, they were not far apart - Lando could reach out and touch Carlos’ chest, and even then not have fully extended his arm. Then, Carlos said, and he was whispering - why was he whispering?:

“You can come inside, if you want. For…cards. Or just to talk.”

Lando bit his lip, then shook his head. “No. It’s- I should. I should go.”

Unknowable One take him, Carlos looked disappointed. Lando hated himself. He hated that he was the cause of such a horrible expression on the prince’s face, that wonderful man, that beautiful, gentle man. But Carlos nodded and said, “If you want.”

And he stepped closer to Lando. Lando’s breath hitched. There was barely any space between them, but there was space, and Lando found he could not bear it. He placed his palm, tentative, fearful, against Carlos’ chest. Carlos’ eyes flickered; then he touched Lando’s cheek, and Lando leaned into the touch, the pads of Carlos’ fingers steady even though the rest of his hand shook. 

“You’re cold,” Lando whispered. Carlos shook his head, his eyes still on Lando, his lips parted and eyebrows slightly raised in - anticipation? Hope? Lando swallowed. “I should, right? I should…go?”

And Carlos whispered, as though pained, as though it killed him to say, “I can’t make that decision for you, Landito.”

Landito. Lando closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened his eyes again it was because he felt Carlos’ forehead against his own, Carlos’ nose against his, and he had forgotten how much he adored this proximity, how amazing it had been when Carlos had done this last, pressed their faces together. Lando wanted to cry. As it was, he was tearing up, the hand on Carlos’ chest plucking and plucking at the fabric of his jerkin. Carlos took a shuddering breath, his lips lingering so close to Lando’s. Lando felt that breath, felt the hesitation, he felt every barely-there span that separated them. He hated it. He hated every millimeter between them.

“Goddess,” Lando whispered, and it felt like a sob. “Goddess. Carlos, do- do you want me to go?”

Were their lips brushing? Lando didn’t want to be cognizant of that fact if they were, didn’t want his heart to break in either case: if they weren’t brushing, why not? If they were- was this all? Was it all he and Carlos would get to have? Lando clenched his free hand at his side, and it shook, and Carlos laughed shakily and shook his head, and oh, their lips were brushing-

“Carlos,” Lando begged, “Should I go?”

And Carlos said, and Carlos said with his own perfect mouth, full of ache, “Stay, please stay-”

Lando sobbed, and Carlos gripped his face, hard and needy, and his lips were against Lando’s, and Lando sobbed again as he parted his lips against Carlos’, and it was fevered, and it was graceless, and there was nothing to it but desperation and that hunger from earlier, as Carlos groaned into Lando’s mouth, his tongue against Lando’s, and Lando clutched at Carlos’ jerkin, his hair, pressing his own body flush to Carlos’, and Carlos groaned again as he reached behind Lando to slam the door shut and push Lando against it, press his body back against Lando’s - and Lando realized, amazingly, he had not known before what it truly meant to be Faithful.

Goddess, thank you.

[wednesday-fall]

06.24.23

Unlocking the new hundreds and the to the new journey! Happy 304th Days my sunshine, the light of my life and my ride or die!

As what I've always said, we knew each other not so long and not so short. I don't know what waits us ahead love but atleast we knew how we creatively share moments together offline and online. I had always been thank you to you love for making the possible good person. lol *thinking i was really that bad. Really felt bad to those nights I made you cry and overthinking. I feel so guilty everytime I hear you being sad but what can I do? I'm really sorry for the times I badly wanted get mad at you because you were too protective and obsessive in very cute way, in which drives me crazy.

But yah, I am hopeful to those years that we will learn with each other and fighting the odds together. You are the truly gift mylove and an answered prayers or manifestations by God. I wasn't asking Him to meet a guy like you, and then He just gave me you. I promise ro cherish and love you unconditionally eventhough I was the reddest red flag ever. That's why thank you so much for your patience mylove and for every little things we shared. Thank you for being with me in times I was at my weakest state. I loved you so much more than you could imagine. I love you how you act in every efforts you take, you lethal charm, your physique and your smell captivates me. How I wish I could hug and kiss you always m, that won't do as I wished hahaha.

Hoping for our new journey to be as wonderful as our friendship and love story. May we always stay together no matter how tough life might be. That's partof my manifestations, as I always said, I can't lose you mylove. You are the shining silhourtte in my the sunrise and sunset. You made my life more lighter. It was you the reason of my dopamine and serotonin releases and maybe this wpuld explode into real butterflies. Oh, how i loved you dearly.

Always remember to stay control. Do not let your emotions be the reason to hold you into things of overthinking. You can do it love. Be strong always. I will be here for you through day and night when you'ew feeling down. I congratulate you for you achievements and rooting for your great success. Keep on mylove. You are far from it yet closer to dreams. I love you sweetie pie!

We' re going there for a new chapter love! Hold on a bit longer. You will always be the best thing had ever given to me love.

I miss you already mylove. 🖤

I love you so much mylove, my light and my shining silhouette. 🥰

P.s: If my grammar was wrong maybe kay gadali ko ani love.

Manifesting Paris for you love!

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

hello! i really liked your post regarding izaya and ASPD! izaya is a character that i love even if i don’t necessarily understand him, so i appreciate how you approach criticism of certain portrayals of him without being overly pretentious. i’d love to hear more of your thoughts about our little meow meow, as the poets say, and thank you for shizayaposting in the year 2022. hero.

hihi!! and thank u! i understand him to a concerning degree and i'm glad you didnt think i was pretentious because i did kind of slip into my "i am writing a personal essay that is going to be published in a magazine" style near the end there. but maybe my essays arent as pretentious as i think, too!!

and hmm... thats a broad topic, "more thoughts," but i do share the sentiment that izaya is a very lonely person and that he loves shizuo- but the sensation of love is very different for someone with ASPD, so he might not even recognize it at first! emotions can be very dull and unrecognizable with ASPD, and i only cared about love because i personally wanted a partner! the idea of having someone who i knew i could wholeheartedly rely on, who fit perfectly with me... it was very enticing :) the safety, familiarity and the care called to me- after all, you can do whatever you want as long as you have a safe place to go back to... and a safe person there to welcome you home :)

(i am happliy engaged- it has its difficulty considering my fiance is my emotional opposite- he's hyper empathetic and possibly dependent- but it's a happy engagement nonetheless)

so my point being, i think it would take quite a lot for izaya to recognize feelings of love, but loneliness is a different beast altogether! it's easy to identify haha

and i think izaya is big on appearances- he's a powerful information broker, so he needs to have the penthouse. never mind that it feels too big and empty and impersonal, like he's a guest at a hotel! and he knows there's something that makes him different from other people. he's not stupid. i'm not sure if he knows what exactly it is, but it's there.

and.... sometimes people stereotype themselves.

i'm going to paint a target on my back and admit something: i'm self-diagnosed. put the damn pitchforks down, i have a therapist and he supports my decision. but before i came to terms with it, i would constantly stereotype ASPD. stuff like "ah, i can't have aspd, i cried at a dead cat!"

(i love cats)

and similarly, i would go "well, if i do have aspd, i can't cry at dead cats, because it means i have emotions and everyone knows sociopaths can't feel emotions! they dont cry at movies or anything!!"

(i later read confessions of a sociopath, and in the very first chapter, the author admitted to doing the same thing. get out of my head etc etc etc)

and i think izaya would be the same. he knows he's different. he sees expressions of emotions as contradictory to his base nature- it would prove him wrong about himself, prove that he's just another human. whether he thinks he's a god or a waste in that instant, it would still prove him wrong. he's not above emotion and he's not above hurt. and if he craves companionship, that means there exists something he desperately wants but can never, ever get. no sane, comforting human would accept him the way he is. and if he loves shizuo, the feeling is tenfold. he would want something with all his heart and wanting would never be enough. there would never be anything he could do to get shizuo to fall in love with him.

(except, according to fanfics, get brutalized and left to die, causing shizuo to stumble across him in a vulnerable state, finally seeing izaya as a person, izaya's masks forcibly ripped off as shizuo sees him for who he is)

(i wonder if izaya would ever be so desperate as to get himself brutalized for this outcome. if he ever acknowledged his feelings, the lack of control over the situation might get to him enough that he's driven to do this)

and that's why i think izaya masks everything. he's scared of his own humanity. because gods have everything they want, and humans have wants they can never have.

izaya is not a god. he's a human that is fundamentally broken in a deep, perverse way that nobody around him mirrors. he doesn't know why or what it is. all he can do is pretend to not suffer from it, pretend that he doesn't want, pretend that he isn't forever reaching for something that he can never have.

and i will shizayapost till the end of time my friend o7