#i hope i drew him well but if not please tell me i don’t want to whitewash him

[tangyyrine]

Rictor/Shatterstar, requested by @kermit-coded!

[angelplummie]

ur art baby trapping fic is all i can think abt btw

but but but. what if after the first time it becomes a regular occurrence, and after the first few times, when he buries himself as deep as his long cock can go inside you and cums so hard he loses vision, you think maybe it’s time to be safe again. you’ve taken a few pregnancy tests, and it’s seeming like you’re getting away with the risky sex, but the risk is not worth the reward.

you saunter into the kitchen one morning, were art reads the news on his laptop, sipping a black tea. what a serious man you were dating. your arms snake around his neck loosely, and you kiss this top of his blonde head.

“i’m gonna order some more birth control. what’s that gynos number again? i know i wrote it down somewhere but i can’t remember.”

art stilled. he placed the mug squarely on a coaster.

“you don’t need that.”

he reached up to hold your forearm gently, to ghost the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

“well, i do a little bit. we’ve been lucky, but if we keep going raw we might be in trouble. then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

he hummed, stomach flipping. you were so close to figuring him out.

“that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“what?”

he kissed the peach fuzz of your arm.

“i’d like being stuck with you.”

you didn’t let go, but you didn’t move either.

“are you saying you hope i get pregnant?”

“no,” he lied softly,”but if you did, that would also make me happy. wouldn’t it make you happy?”

you inhaled, shocked.

“i guess. i don’t- i don’t know how i would feel. i haven’t given it much thought. have you?”

he moved to get up, and you stepped back, unfurling yourself from him.

the chair scraped against the floor, and you watched arts feet as he moved around it to get back to you. he turned to face you, beautiful face set in a knowing, subtle smile. he took your face in his long hands, one on either side of your jaw.

“i’ve thought about a future with you and being with you forever, and about having a baby with you.”

your lips parted slightly, that rosy feeling cresting your cheeks and nose.

“i love you very much. i want you very much. is it that strange to think i might want to start a family with you?”

a cloudy feeling, humid and twinkly, filled your head. you drew in breath, but before you could make any kind of reply he kissed gently on your forehead, which nullified the part of your brain that might have any problem with what art was saying ever.

“why is that strange baby?”

“it’s not strange.”

“that’s right.”

and he pulls you into his chest. your arms remain tucked to you, and he wraps himself around you. tenderly his chin rests on your hair, and your breath in his smell. art was so clean, and so smart and kind. and he loved you. he wanted to be with you. you were so lucky.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and that night, when he got you on top of him, cock buried deep in your tiny cunt, he made you feel even luckier. you were so wet it spilled down his shaft that split you open, down to his round full balls. his hands were clamped like shackles around your hips, preventing you from moving.

your hands splayed on his perky chest, you frowned in an effort to not fall apart, and he watched you with unbridled glee. you try to bounce, and your tits shake, but he holds you in place, all your leg muscles no match for the few at work in his arms. he watches as your titties settle still, his soft little angel.

“art please,” you dig your nails into his pillowy chest, but he doesn’t even flinch as you turn his pale skin pink.

“yes please,” you whisper. he smiles, thinly veiling his glee.

“you wanna ride me?”

your pussy clenches. even bellow you, he’s so far above. so much wiser and calmer.

“i’ll let you. on one condition.”

his fingers dug into your love handles, leaving white marks on your side. he readjusted himself, burying his cock inside your further, making you huff.

“tell me,” your cunt was so tight he had to pause as it squeezed him,” that you want me to get you pregnant. say the words.”

you blinked, trying to direct any of your attention away from the pseudo-pain of having him inside you still. his demanding tone alone makes your cunt throb, and wet his fat cock even more.

“what?”

“tell me you want me to cum inside you raw.”

your head tips back, and you swallow.

“i want you,” you say, thoughtless, desperate, so cock hungry it makes arts chest heave under your talons,” to cum inside me raw. get me pregnant please. please art, just fuck me.”

art grunted, and squeezed your hips even harder.

“yeah? you want that?”

and he drew you up on his dick, biting his lip hard enough to leave indents, to split skin.

he guided you up, so that only his pink tip stayed hooked inside your tight pussy hole.

yeah was the only word you could form, and you said it over and over like it was his name, like it was a prayer.

“ok baby. whatever you want.”

and he drove himself into you, holding you above him like an oversized fleshlight. you sounded like a fleshlight too, wet and soft and malleable to him. a wet schlick permeated the room with every thrust as he held you, suspended in the air, and fucked you like you weighed nothing.

your grip dragged up to his forearm, leaving a pink trail in your wake, jaw tipping open.

“art, art, art.”

as he moves sharply in and out, pounding your pussy, you legs turn to jelly, and you feel the distinct urge to writhe. you resist, and instead jerk with his every movement, moaning pathetically.

“you’re so tight. god,” he spits through gritted teeth. it’s like he’s angry at you, and he bullies your little cunt like he hates you. but he doesn’t hate you, he loves you very much. he can’t believe your his, he can’t believe you want to be his forever. he will make you happy. he will. you just have to give him a child.

his v-line and his hips crash into the softness of your thighs and make loud slaps. he grunts as he feels the tip split you open time and time again. you feel it, a deep thud inside you every time he presses down, and you whine absently.

“art, hold me.”

“what?”

“hold me.”

immediately, he rises from his lying position and props himself up on his head board, yanking you to him again. and then you were face to face, with his tousled blonde hair and blue, honest eyes, and his beautiful face. just as you asked, he held you. two strong arms encircled you waist, pushing your tits up on his chest.

digging his heels into the bed, he began pumping, buried so deep that he could only work the last increments of his cock into you. your eyes are misty, are big and desperate. your open mouth

"you ok?"

"yeah. I love you."

"mm."

and he kissed you again, tongue pawing at the inside of your mouth, like a kitten at a ball of yarn. he moaned rhymically, with every beat of your little heart. every moment you lived as his was total pleasure. you inched your hips forwards and back, against the force of his thrusts and kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” he huffs,”you’re so pretty. i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

“please.”

“yeah, i know you want that.”

“yeah, i want it.”

you fuck yourself on him, and he kisses you again, harder, messier, noses smushing and tongues moving against each other.

“oh,” he says, and you know he’s close. so you say him what he wants to hear. what you know he’s wanted to hear this whole time. your clit presses against his pelvis, and as you tip over the edge you give him what he needs, like a good girl. friend. a good girlfriend.

“daddy, daddy.”

and it’s over. his grip tightens, pressing you harder against him so you can’t move at all in his lap. his hips stutter, and he lets out a grunting, groaning whine into your cheek, into your ear.

his balls tighten and twitch, and a fat load spurts inside you, clinging to your cervix and dribbling out of your spasming hole.

“fuck, god.”

one arms stays around your back, the other reaches up to your neck, to caress the skin and reach up into your hair. to stroke your jaw with his thumb as you both pant, slack jawed and satisfied.

“fuck.”

“art?”

“yeah?”

“i bet that did it. i bet i’m pregnant.”

“i bet you are. are you scared?”

you looked at each other and smiled, wide and goofy, forehead to forehead.

“no. are you? i really mean it, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“darn.”

[bookyeom]

whatever you say, baby - chs

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 1.1k warnings: none? the slightest bit suggestive at the end but like... it's nothing author's note: part two to this fic! i would recommend reading both for it to make sense :)

You haven’t seen Vernon in four days.

You haven’t seen him since he kissed you — and he’d kissed you a lot.

You’d barely managed to finish the movie without making out on his couch like teenagers. And when it was over, he hadn’t asked you to stay — but he’d kissed you again by his front door. 

You’d texted when you’d gotten home safe, as he’d requested. Then you’d woken up the next day to a ‘good morning :)’ text, which was swiftly followed by ‘today is so busy I might die’. And then the two of you had just… moved on. 

He sends a Shrek meme and then disappears for hours; you laugh react or send a meme in return. He sends you a picture of a “gnarly” squirrel he sees on campus; you send him a picture of a shitty doodle you drew during one of your lectures. Neither of you brings up what happened. You know he’s got a project due at the end of the week, so you don’t push when his texts are few and far between. Even though you so desperately want to. 

Is he thinking about it as much as you are? You can’t get the feeling of his lips out of your mind, and it’s driving you crazy. You want to kiss him again, want to run your fingers through his hair again, want to feel his hands on your waist again.

But you remain in limbo. You don’t ask for an explanation — he doesn’t offer one. And you don’t know how much longer you can ignore it. 

Vernonie [8:34pm]: INCOMING VIDEOCALL

Your eyes widen when your screen lights up. You quickly straighten from where you’d been lounging on your couch, tucking your hair behind your ears and hoping for the best. He knows what you look like, you remind yourself, but that doesn’t help the nerves when you finally accept the call. 

“Hey, stranger.”

He looks cute, and it makes you sick. 

“Hey,” you reply, and you can feel your cheeks heat up for no apparent reason. All he’s done is say hello, but you haven’t seen his face in four days, and the last time you saw him you were —

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you say, and then you can’t help but blurt out, “You’ve been busy.” It comes out accusatory, and you regret it immediately. 

Vernon looks surprised, and you watch as his eyebrows raise. “Yeah, I had that big project to finish, remember?” 

You nod, avoiding eye contact through the screen. “Right.”

He’s quiet again before he says teasingly, “If you missed me you can just say so.” 

You know it’s an attempt to lighten the mood, but it hits so deep all of a sudden that you think you might cry. Did he not miss you, too? 

You know it’s a cheap move, but you absolutely cannot look at him when he tells you that the kissing had meant nothing, that it was all a mistake. That you’re better off as friends. 

“Hey,” he says when you shift your phone so that your face is just out of sight. You can practically hear his pout. “Come back.”

“I’m just gonna go,” you say weakly, and you can see in your peripheral vision the way Vernon sits up straight. 

“Hey, no. Wait. Please come back? Let me say something.”

You bite your lip as the tears well up. It takes you a minute, but you manage to take a breath and set your phone back upright to look at him. 

“Y/N,” he says gently, and you can see his soft smile through the screen. “Bro.”

You can’t help but smile a bit at that, and he takes that as a sign to continue. 

“Did you think I was avoiding you?”

You shrug. 

“You think I kissed you and then avoided you on purpose?”

Your heart stutters over itself a bit as he says the words out loud. When he puts it like that, you suppose it sounds a bit silly. Because it’s Vernon, and he would never be so cruel. You shrug again, but you still can’t find it in you to speak. 

“Kissing you is probably all I've thought about for the better part of the last few months,” he continues, and your eyes widen. “I wasn't deliberately avoiding you, I just... I was busy, that part’s true, but it seemed like a good time to give you some space anyway because I know you get into your head sometimes, so I thought that would give you some time to process…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair before he adds, quieter, “You know. In case you…” 

“In case I what?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken in a few minutes, and you can practically see the way Vernon’s shoulders relax at the sound of your voice again. 

He pauses, and then he says softly, “In case you regret it.”

Your eyes widen. “You think I regret it?”

“Do you?”

You shake your head, a bit dizzy as you return, “Do you?”

Vernon’s lip curls up at the side. “No, Y/N. I don’t.”

You’re processing, and he’s quiet as he lets you. He doesn’t regret it. He wanted to kiss you. He… 

It’s silent for another moment and then you say, voice small, “But you didn’t ask me to stay.” 

“Baby,” he says, and your eyes widen. “That’s definitely not because I didn’t want you to. Like I said, I was giving you space.”

“Baby?”

Vernon freezes. “Shit, sorry. Fuck—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, and he relaxes a little. 

“Yeah?” He breathes, and you nod. A smile spreads across your lips, warmth spreading through you as it really, truly dawns on you — Vernon likes you back. 

“Yeah,” you affirm. “I think I much prefer that to bro.”

“Yeah?” He says again, and you smile. You’re just realizing now that he seems nervous too, and it makes you feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside.

“Mhm.”

You stare at one another through the screen. Vernon’s grin spreads the longer you do, and even though you know your cheeks are flushed, you don’t stop the staring contest. He narrows his eyes, and you let out a giggle. 

“So…”

“So,” he repeats, and you watch as he adjusts to lie down on his couch. “I finished my project.”

That was not where you thought this conversation was headed. “Oh yeah? Good job, bro.” 

Vernon raises his eyebrows at the name, and you flush again. 

“It’s habit,” you whine, and he puts on an exaggerated frown. 

“That’s fine,” he sighs dramatically, “I was going to say that I can hang out with you now that my project is done, but I can see I’m the only romantic one here, bro.”

You gasp. “I can be romantic!”

Vernon grins, and you immediately know you’ve taken his bait as he teases, “Really?”

“I can!” You insist, and he just smiles even wider. 

“Want me to come over so you can show me just how romantic you can be, baby?”

TAGLIST: @tae-bebe @wheeboo @waldau @iluvseokmin @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @minisugakoobies @wqnwoos @gyuminusone @christinewithluv @darkypooo @lvlystars @bewoyewo

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Spoiled Brat Child Reader | Platonic Yandere Twisted Wonderland

“You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mom!”

It’s alarming for a child to be brought to a world completely different from their own

It’s just as alarming when that child is good at getting what they want

“Aren’t I generous–”

“This is it? What are you some poor old featherduster? Is this really all you can do for the child you practically abducted with your weirdo mirror ceremony un-believable.”

You fit right in at NRC

Stomping your foot and pointing your little gloved fingers 

You have way too much ease when it comes to confronting your seniors

Already surviving and rumored to have started Overeblots

Gathering rows of thralls friends that take it upon themselves to be the big brothers you need try and instill some disciplines

And oddly enough the ones to do it first surprisingly  are those at Scarabia

“Oh (Y/n)! Look at you in your little Scarabia clothes, it looks so good on you.”

“Hmph no it doesn’t I look poor. I wanna wear something else!”

“But you do look cute, promise!”

“I don’t care! Something else!”

“...(Y/n)...”

“Shut up you shouldn’t get to talk to me, servant!”

“(Y/N)!? Apologize!”

It’s really bad at first when rotations have you staying with them

Kalim like so many others is enamored by your cuteness and is usually at your whim

But the minute you take it too far with Jamil especially after his Overblot

Before the Overblot Jamil would just try to hypnotize you or play into your bossy attitude

He’s already watching an overgrown child so why not bratty one too

After his overblot though the guilt from endangering little you has him oddly quiet when you take your jabs at him too far

It’s Kalim who steps up

Doing something he didn’t even do when Jamil had plots to take over the dorm

Get Mad

“(Y/N) THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT OKAY! JAMIL DOES SO MUCH FOR YOU AND YOU ARE BEING SO UNGRATEFUL! YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE NOW.”

The dorm is absolutely quiet

As you nervously shuffle your feet

The thing about being bratty and spoiled is that you almost never get corrected 

Like ever 

So when one of your most avid spoilers turns around to lay down the law

It’s surprising

So surprising you just might cry

“I….I….I…Waaahhahhhhh!!! I’sorry Jamil! Sorry! Sorry! I love you still! Sorry don’t be mad at me!”

Crying into Jamil’s jacket for an hour or two before you’re sleeping 

Kalim is silently crying to himself as he’s certain you’ll never smile at him again

But he doesn’t plan to apologize either he doesn’t feel sorry for defending Jamil

He just hopes he can stand his ground

Jamil on the other hand is beyond amused

It doesn’t really hurt him when a child who stomps and whines about trivial things starts making fun of him

Even having just survived his Overblot he knows it’s nothing but hot air 

He already knows you like him because despite being a 'servant' you’ll follow him around to tell him about something silly Grim did

But the way Kalim actually spoke some sense into you suprises him a lot

He was just going to quickly hypnotize you to listen when he glared at you 

But this was so much better

It ended with you clinging to him promising you’ll behave and that you are grateful for him

“I really really really am, Jamil!”

“I know.”

“I really really really really am!”

“I know Habibi, sleep please.”

“Okay….only if you stay with me though.”

Come next morning you’ll shyly greet Kalim hiding behind Grim or Jamil 

Until its time for you to draw something for him while you sit a little bit closer

“Here…”

“Oh uh thank you.”

“It’s…a picture of us…Me and carpet drew it to uh…apologize for misbehaving. Do you…forgive me?”

“......”

“Kalim?”

“Waahaahha! Oh (Y/n) you’re a sweet angel yes I do!”

Kalim’s unbelievably happy and Jamil is so so prideful 

He is the one taking you hand-in-hand while you apologize for some of the more heinous things you’ve said or done

“I–er–well I…”

“Out with it, (Y/n).”

“O..okay. I’m sorry Ruggie for calling you poor.”

“Wow I didn’t think you’d ever do something like that. Are you sick?”

“I actually really like dandelions too…I tried one after I saw you trying it.”

“....(Y/n)! If you don’t mind being poor you can come home with me next break.”

“Really–”

“Ah-ah no you don’t.”

For this Crowely suddenly is much more willing to give the dorm a bit more leeway when it comes to taking care of you

But if the other dorms have anything to say about it that won’t be the case for long

[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ Finn ⇢ *- Taught To Please -* ⇠ Shelby ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) Finn Shelby x fem!reader

⇾ Summary: essentially a part two for ‘Better than any other man’ where the reader teaches Finn how to please a woman.

⇾ Warnings: NSFW, oral (Female receiving) fingering,

⇾ Part One

It was safe to say that when Finn Shelby saw his brothers the next day, they had a few things to say about the rather dark bruises on their younger brothers neck. While Arthur assumed it had something to do with the whore that had been hired for him, Thomas knew it was something else, something that his brother wasn’t ready to share with the rest of his family, so he decided not to crack on to the young boy about it.

Although over the course of the week, the rest of the family began to question what the youngest member of the Shelby family was doing when he’d disappear without a trace.

So, as Finn was leaving after a long day of work, Thomas pulled him aside and into his office. “What is it Tom?” The younger boy asked, sitting down in the chair at the desk as his brother pulled out a cigarette, passing one over.

“We’ve all noticed the hickeys. Aunt Pol says you don’t return back home most nights. If it’s whores then I hope you’re being careful.” Tommy said, getting straight to the point.

Finn gulped, putting the cigarette to his lips and inhaling the smoke. “It’s not.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s not whores.” He confirmed.

Thomas raised a brow, sitting across from Finn. “Then who is it?”

“My girlfriend.” Finn answered.

Thomas nodded his head. “Your girlfriend… and who is that.” He inquired, wanting to make sure that Finn wasn’t putting himself in a bad place.

“I don’t want her to be apart of our business, Tommy.” Finn said, sitting up straight, attempting to appear confident.

“Very well, but expect that we will find out eventually. I’ll let the others know that a whore will no longer be necessary.” Thomas dismissed Finn, letting him finally leave, although he wasn’t planning on returning home.

Like normal, Finn showed up at your house, looking to stay the night. “Tommy knows about us, we’ll not about you. But he knows I have a girlfriend. The others I think are suspicious about it too.” Finn said as sat down beside you in front of the fire, enjoying the heat that the flames gave off.

“I know you said you don’t want them to know about me for safety reasons, but I don’t mind if you do want to tell them about me. It’d be nice to actually go out with you instead of meeting up in secret.” You tell your boyfriend, hoping he was willing to give it some thought and allow the two of you to go on proper dates together.

You watched him as his facial expressions shifted, as if he was lost in thought. “I know you’d like to go out, but it’s not my family that I’m worried about. It’s the threats towards us. I’ve already lost a brother because of it, and I can’t risk losing you too.” It wasn’t the response that you were looking for, but it also wasn’t something you could be upset with, after all he was right. His job was dangerous, a constant threat to those he cared for, and you could understand his fear for allowing people to know there are others out there that he cares deeply for. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, placing a hand on your thigh and lightly caressing your exposed skin.

“S’alright, Finny. I understand.” You smiled up at him, resting your head on his shoulders. “Hopefully someday we’ll be able to show the whole world that we’re together.” You mumbled, staring into the fire.

“Hopefully.” He repeated.

His hand had subconsciously shifted up, unaware of the state it put you in as his caressing drew closer and closer to your lower region.

You hadn’t noticed at first, that was until you felt the tingling sensation going straight to your core.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You placed your hand on top of his, Finn thinking nothing of it until he felt you tug his hand further up your thigh. He glanced over at you, wondering what you were doing, when he noticed the hint of a smirk on your lips while you nudged him closer and closer. He didn’t say anything, opting for allowing you to do your thing while Finn silently observed.

When his hand disappeared beneath your skirt, and his fingers met your underwear, his breath hitched. “Y/n, what are you-”

He was cut off. “Remember when I said I would teach you about pleasuring me?” You asked, waiting for his nod of agreement. “Well… I was thinking we could do that today.” You suggested, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly.

His eyes brows raised at your suggestion, head cocking to the side. “And what is it you want me to do?”

“You know what.” You replied, feeling a sudden warmth hit your face as you grew shy.

Finn, taking note of the change in demeanor, started to smirk. “No, actually. I’m not sure.” He teased, thumb softly rubbing as the skin of your thigh.

You let out a huff in defeat, “I want you to touch me,” you pouted. Finn said nothing more as he allowed for you to press his hand over your underwear, grinding into him, “please,” you begged, pulling your skirt up so he could see the positioning of his hand.

“Oh shit,” Finn cursed, watching as you pulled aside your underwear, “uhm- what do I do?” He asked, unsure of how to actually please a woman as that was never something that he brothers brought up.

“Just touch me,” you stated grabbing his hand, “right here,” his fingers came in contact with your clit sending a shockwave of electricity through your body, “and rub,” you added.

Slowly, he moved his finger around the small bud of your clit, watching the way that you physically reacted to the stimulation. “Faster!” You begged.

Finn picked up the pace.

His confidence grew alongside your moans, feeling encouraged by the sounds you made for him.

At one point, his fingers grew slippery from your wetness, causing his finger to accidentally slip into your hole, to which Finn pulled his hand away and apologized. “S’okay, Finny. Your meant to do that too…” once again you grabbed his hand, pushing all but one finger down and pushing it as your entrance.

His finger slipped into your wet hole with ease, feeling the warmth of your inside and wishing it was his dick instead.

He pumped his finger in and out, even as you grabbed his wrist and dug your nails into his skin. “Finn- I’m close!” You moaned, eyes rolling back.

You reached down to rub at your clit, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your legs shook as you attempted to keep them open, until your high ended and the sensitivity came, then you clamped your thighs around his arm, stopping him from moving any more.

“That seemed easy, I thought there was more to it,” Finn commented, pulling his hand away from your core, unsure what to do with the wetness on his fingers.

“There is more to it,” you replied, placing his finger into your mouth and sucking off the juices.

Finns eyes widened at your action, thinking of the very first time you gave him head, and then it hit him.

A smirk grew on his face as his eyes dropped down to your closed legs. His hands landed on your knees, shoving them apart to make room for himself.

You let out a squeak as he dragged you down the couch and closer towards him, this way you were laying down.

Finn got off the couch, kneeling down on the ground and hunching over so he could be eye level with your core, looking up at you to gather your reaction.

You ran a hand through his hair, nails softly dragging across his scalp, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, usually men don’t like doing it,” you told him, but Finn was adamant in returning the favor.

He lightly kissed your thigh, trailing them up until his nose was almost touching your pussy, when he used his fingers to spread you apart, taking notice of the cum that had dripped out.

Finn thought back to how you started off giving him head, how you licked from the base of his cock to the tip, and kept that in mind. His tongue darted out, touching your hole and tasting your cum, before flattening it and licking up to your clit, feeling the little pearl flutter beneath his touch.

The way you gasped has Finn thinking he did something right with licking at your clit, so he kept at it.

He sucked and licked, listening and paying attention to your reaction with every little thing he did.

He could never grow tired of the noises you made.

Your legs were closed around his head, but Finn didn’t mind, nor did he try and open them, he just kept his focus on pleasuring you, and pleasuring you was what he was doing.

The hand you had in his hair was tugging softly, your hips gyrating against his mouth, “oh- Finn! Feels so good…” you moaned.

Due to your sensitivity from the previous orgasm, it wasn’t long before your orgasm happened once more.

You came on his tongue with no warning other than the rather high pitched moans and harder tugs to his curls. “Shit!” You cried, body shaking.

You were breathing heavily as Finn pulled away from your core, a daze expression on his face matched with a bright smile, happy to have made you cum twice without having to use his cock.

“Should have told me to do that sooner,” he joked, sitting up and leaning over you, placing a kiss against your lips, “you taste nice,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[josiesullysblog]

Not so Small Now?

~AGED UP Neteyam x Na’vi reader

~Fluff, breast play?, touching

~Proofread?-yes

~Summary-You are older then Neteyam by a year, Neteyam is a love sick fool and you tell him the only way you mate is if he grows taller then you.

You were 365 and one whole days older than Neteyam. So, your whole life you felt like you had an advantage. In your tiny four-year-old mind you could tell him what to do because you are the oldest. And he blindly listened, “Neteyam go fetch me some beads for my hair!” He’d send you a toothy smile, “okay!” “Neteyam can you find me the biggest fish, please!” “okay, Nova!”

Now, Neteyam was in love with you the minute he met you. Always followed behind you, you were the only person he let walk all over him. You found it fun having the boy wrapped around your fingers, but you never asked too much of the boy.

When you were nine and he was eight, he brought you a handful of flowers, “my Nova!” You had been playing with some older kids when he came running. The older kids started snickering as they noticed his eyes were glued on you, “are these flowers for me?” You smiled and took them in your hand, “can you be my mate?”

Hope was laced in his eyes as the kids behind laughed harder, “she can't mate with you!” You shot them a glare, “I can do whatever I want,” you walked off with the flowers in hand and Neteyam on your trail. “So, does this mean we can mate?” you shook your head, “thanks for the flowers, but we can't mate! We are far too young!” Neteyam frowned, “when we get older will you mate with me?”

You pretended to think a bit, “I’ll mate with you when you become taller than me!” He smiled big, “I've found a mate! I’m going to tell Lo’ak!” he ran off quickly while you sighed, in your little mind he was never gonna become taller than you because you were older.

Neteyam ran all the way home with the biggest smile, “I’ve found a mate!” Neytiri turned quickly looking at the boy crazy, “son, you are far too young to think of such things,” Neteyam shook his head, “I and Nova are promised in the stars! I just have to become taller than her!” Neytiri snickered a bit laughing at the boy. “Well, I can't wait for that day,” Neteyam nodded before finding Lo’ak and telling him the same thing.

Long story short, you were wrong. Very wrong. You had completely forgotten about the bet. You had picked up many new hobbies, one being drawing, so your mind was moving too quickly to even stop and look at the boy. To notice the now twenty-year-old is no longer a child, but a man. Neteyam didn’t forget, he was waiting till after his ceremony to trap you. Not in a weird way, just when you two can be alone. So he can finally confess how he truly feels. How for the last year, since your ceremony, that no man attempt to court you. Your beauty to him was something he only should cherish.

As the months came by quickly, Neteyam’s ceremony was coming quickly. You didn't think much of it, but for some reason, a pain hit your heart when you thought of Neteyam with another. But that's crazy because he was just the boy who followed you around. Right?

You sat in complete silence as you drew the scenery around you. Besides the movement of the wind and the slight rustle of the trees, you were in such a peaceful state you didn't notice Neteyam lurking. You got up leaving your work on the floor to go get some water by the river. You hummed a song as the boy matched your pace, unbeknownst to you.

You bent down carefully feeling the water, you sighed with contentment, “feels good?” Neteyam said coming out from the bushes. You quickly turned as you heard the familiar voice, “teyem I told you to stop scaring me!” the boy simply smirked as he joined you, “well, that wouldn't be much fun.”

Your eyes stuck on the boy as he took his place next to you. Was this the same boy you grew up with? Because the boy in front of you made a slight blush cover your face, and your heartbeat go up a little. “What are you doing this deep in the forest anyway? Don’t you need to be preparing for your ceremony?” you gave the boy a playful smile. “I wanted to see you,” you stood up causing the boy to. He gently grabbed your arm pushing you onto a tree. It was then that you noticed how much the boy had grown. How he was much stronger than you, how held be able to do anything to you.

He chuckled as a noticeable blush covered your face, “not so small now, huh?” you looked away from the boy who was quick to grab your chin. “Aw, the baby can’t keep eye contact?” you crumbled under his gaze, “shut up, Neteyam,” his gaze only intensified, “I've been quiet about how I've felt for the last year, baby.” his hands trailed down your body as he spoke, causing small gasps to fall out. “For the last year, ever since your ceremony, I���ve prayed to Ewya that you may never find another. Or I don’t know what I'd do,” his words caused a feeling in between your legs. His hands stopped on top of your breast, softly touching the nipples, he squeezed the nipple hard, a loud moan coming out as a result. “Dear Ewya, even now I'm so tempted to bend you over and fuck you.”

He dragged your hand over his hard cock, “feel this? This is what you do to me, pretty girl,” your eyes were locked with the boy’s as he continued his assault on your breasts, you gently placed a hand on his face bringing it closer to you. “If you don’t stop now, we’ll get in trouble,” your words of reason were true, but you wanted him to continue going.

“Listen to me, the minute we are finished with that ceremony, I'm going to fuck you.” he let go of you, helping you off the tree. The whole walk home, your mind was going crazy. You could not wait till after that ceremony.

***

Lazy ending ik:( I’ll definitely try and update this, but thankfully I was able to write! I have an important test coming up so I won't be able to write till this weekend but hope you enjoy it!!

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (1)

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

masterlist || next || playlist

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

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

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

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

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

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thought for a second before replying.

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

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

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

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

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

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

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiding behind humor was a pastime. 

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

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

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

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

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

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

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

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

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see me?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

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

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

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

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

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

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

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

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

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart. 

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

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

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

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

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

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

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

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

First work then play, I told myself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

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

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like we have company!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hope the concert was nice.”

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

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

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t look very impressed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I put your stuff in your room.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I felt like an asshole.

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

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

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

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him. 

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

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

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

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “See you.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Likewise," I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

[clairdelunelove]

Things Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Finds Attractive About You Pt.II

simon 'ghost' riley x reader, mentions of soap, price, gaz, and alejandro 

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing 

synopsis: a couple more cute quirks that you possess that ghost can’t get enough of! headcanon edition! 

a.n. was this on your christmas list?? if it was then santa’s back in town babes :P but seriously, I hope that the holidays have been treating you well. stay warm! if you can, pls consider checking out my kofi and thank you for your continued support <3 

-

-

-

when you glance at him and smile 

you were doing it again 

it was the fifth time ghost caught your bright eyes glancing in his direction 

and it wouldn’t have come to his attention, after all eye contact was given in accordance to common courtesy if you were discussing matters with someone, but you were lounging halfway across the room 

ghost sat alone at the main table 

a couple members surrounded you,, occupied in light banter and small talk 

alejandro lightly nudged your shoulder, murmuring a casual joke that has soap roaring in laughter 

their boisterous voices carry throughout the room which causes ghost to peer up at them 

he couldn’t afford to lose concentration,, needing this alone time to debrief about the previous mission (i.e. which formation was most efficient, how many soldiers he still had left, if there were enough food rations) 

but 

taking a sneak peek couldn’t hurt 

fiddling with the strap of his holster, he wordlessly tightens the garment along his waist and watches as the corners of your lips curl into a polite smile while engaging in small talk with the group 

he spots soap place a gentle hand on your shoulder, the male twisting himself closer to you, as a way to balance himself while heaving over in laughter at another quip that alejandro shares 

before he can think better of it, a ragged breath leaves ghost’s lips at soap’s blatant display of physical affection toward you 

fortunately unfortunately his balaclava doesn’t muffle the noise of disdain which causes soap’s attention to snap to him 

“somethin’ you want to add, Lt.?” soap challenges with a raised brow, “might need to come closer so we can hear ya.” 

soap graces a sly smirk, inadvertently mentioning how ghost was literally the only one that strayed away by being halfway across the room 

and soap’s attempt at pestering the other male is glaringly obvious,, especially from the way his hand still lingers around your shoulder 

there’s a soft chorus of chuckles that erupt from the rest of the members but you simply await the lieutenant's reaction to the lighthearted prod   

ghost doesn’t take the bait though 

“I’ll bear it in mind,” he bluntly acknowledges while readjusting in his seat  

he wasn’t entirely against the idea of mingling but found that restocking/readjusting his equipment was the first priority 

the lieutenant’s casual response leaves the squad speechless,, most expecting him to reprimand soap from the insinuation and their astonished gazes are fixed on him 

ghost, however, continues to nonchalantly estimate the amount of ammunition left in his weapons 

that is– until a subdued giggle fills the empty air 

and he’s aware of that specific sound, doesn’t need to glance up to affirm his belief because it always tugs at his heart in an unfamiliar way

yet, his dark gaze still deviates to find yours 

“my apologies. it was just really quiet.” 

your voice is meek in comparison to earlier now that ghost’s scrutiny is trained on you and the detail leads to him raising a light-toned brow 

the top of his balaclava crinkles due to the action,, a small humane feature that you desperately cling onto 

soap also dropped his hand in response to your small outburst and satisfaction creeps up at ghost 

he nods once, ease swelling within him at the sight of your untouched shoulder, before returning to concentrate on the equipment in front of him 

“yer aff yer heid, bonnie,” soap whispers to you once light chatter erupts again, “I’d sure fix his problem.” 

“what’s his problem?” 

“the mask,” the scottish male huffs like it was obvious, “it’s always on–” 

“I quite like it.” 

you quickly interrupt soap’s rambling and he groans upon seeing your infatuated smile and usual faraway glint in your eyes that you adorn whenever you stare at ghost 

much like you were committing now 

“it’s the mystery,” soap wildly runs his fingers through his mohawk while attempting to explain your interest in the lieutenant, “that’s why the bonnies like him.” 

“well,” ghost’s listless eyes reach yours and you finish your confession in a wishful exhale, “I don’t blame them.” 

and ghost recognizes the look you’re casting him 

that bashful yet alluring glimmer in your stare that has him placing down whatever equipment he was holding so he could rightfully return your gaze 

and of course he hears your breathy disclosure,, revealing more than he’d bargained for 

but he’s steadfast, not planning on tearing his gaze away, when you abruptly break eye contact with him 

ghost blinks– once, twice, three times– upon losing your heated scrutiny an emptiness threatens to swallow him,, his body maneuvering to repose in your direction

legs stretched in front of him, he edges closer to where you stood while crossing his hulking arms  

but you’re caught in conversing with someone and his finger taps idly on the table to patiently await the moment your gaze sweeps over to him again 

it’s almost pathetic how he waits for your eyes to fix on him 

however, when it does, he almost lets out a frazzled breath from beneath his mask 

restocking his equipment could wait for another time because you grace him with one of those beguiling smiles that beckons him over– inviting the tempting risk and enticing danger that accompanies ghost wherever he goes 

he catches you red-handed when you give him a slow once-over,, dragging your half-lidded eyes across the expanse of his massive physique but finishing your scan with an appreciative simper 

and that’s when he finally moves 

firmly pushing out the chair from beneath him, his robust legs carry him towards you in a resolute stride 

a knowing grin dances on your lips due to his advancing,, the sight as clear as day when ghost shoulders past the members surrounding you 

he doesn’t mumble any apologies 

instead, he presses himself so close to you that he can distinguish your rapid heartbeat from beneath your fitted shirt and the cadence causes his head to tilt 

his ebony eyes narrow upon seeing the growing blush, a shade of rouge, overtake your cheeks and the innocent reaction would’ve fooled him if he didn’t know what you secretly were 

a vixen 

he dips his head lower and the next words he utters drips from his tongue like smooth ambrosia 

“see somethin’ you like, doll?”

-

your voice 

ghost had a love/hate relationship with missions 

on one hand, he was going in blind about the amount of recruits he’d lose

It was a constant risk of precious lives, one’s that had family/friends/people waiting for them back at home, with every mission 

yet, leading the squad through missions kept his mind still,, rendering him too busy focusing on basic survival than fighting the incessant thoughts within his mind that strangled him during his free time 

the loneliness, mental exhaustion, and emptiness eating at him until he could no longer stand it 

but there was also you 

“bravo 0-7, how copy?” 

filtering through the radio’s static, your voice is carried through as a gentle melody in ghost’s tactical headset 

the question cuts through the debris that he crushes beneath his heavy boots 

he recognizes a heavy exhale from one of the recruits following behind him and he raises a hand to silence them 

hearing your voice directions is crucial 

but secretly, he’s glad that the higher ups invested in the latest technology so he could hear your voice clearly 

especially the soothing inflection of his alias 

“this is bravo 0-7,” he replies, never one to delay his responses to you 

“lieutenant.” 

and he’s familiar with that pleased tone that’s shared in the troop’s comms 

the teasing purr of his rank visibly causes some of the newer recruits to freeze in their movements,, mind straying to less than innocent scenarios from the way you uttered it 

before he can control himself, he casts an annoyed glare at them that (of course) goes unnoticed by you 

his haunting eyes narrow considerably to wordlessly serve as a threat for their childish behavior 

“(y/n),” he directs his attention to the seedy enclosure before him, “give me a reading.” 

there’s a minute of silence, which ghost anxiously listens for any background noise that indicates if you’re in danger, before your voice crackles, “enemy ground cluster spotted. wiped them out asap.” 

“atta girl.” 

unbeknownst to him, your finger hovers above the communication button so the shaky exhale you let out from his praise isn’t heard 

and he’s aware you had to excuse yourself due to his subtle approval 

“target destruction confirmed,” captain price’s authoritative voice reminds ghost to refocus on the task at hand, “heading to the next destination.” 

the squad synchronizes their movements to head south, in accordance to the enemies’ location 

“where are your sights at, (y/n),” ghost implores while readjusting the mic so it sits snugly over his mask 

unfortunately, his finger unknowingly bumps against his equipment and puts the two of you in a private channel 

which you decide to take full advantage of 

he casts a cautious glance in all directions before gesturing to the recruits to fall in behind him 

it’s silent besides the branches that ghost prods away while he trudges through a clearing 

steadying the throwing knife in his hand, he recognizes the cool metal while the weight of the weapon is slight in his grasp 

as light as a feather 

he’s more than accustomed to the ridges, grooves, and feel of the knife,, using it in necessary combat situations

but his dependable grip, the one that’s effortlessly shoved the weapon into countless enemies, falters when you answer his inquiry in a breathy voice 

“my sights are locked on you, lieutenant.” 

and it’s a line that could be taken two ways: you were watching ghost’s six or you were solely engaged on him for personal reasons 

the fact was– your gaze was trained on him 

it causes satisfaction,, scorching hot which spreads through him and keeps him warm in the chilly weather 

and your utterance is as sweet as sugar that ghost is certain that you spout liquid honey when you part your lips 

he reasons that’s probably why your lips are always so glossy whenever he sees you 

ghost shifts, eyes trailing to the distant watch tower that you’re situated at, and slowly shakes his head 

you were up to no good 

“you’re trouble,” he reprimands but there’s no bite in his tone, “be good, will ya?” 

“and if I’m not?” 

there it is again, the sultry tone that drips from your voice to infer that there’s a double meaning 

he halts to a stop, dragging a gloved hand over his face in an attempt to regain his self-control, and fights back a strangled groan 

“come here then, pup,” his voice is so low-pitched that it serves as an inviting taunt, “say it to my face.” 

and his self-restraint is thinning, becoming nonexistent because of the dangerous game you were playing

the desire to remind you of the high risk that accompanies cheeky comments floods within him 

turning away from the other recruits to maintain some privacy, he’s initially pleased when he doesn’t hear your immediate retort 

it seemed like you were finally learning that fueling fire wasn’t always the safest decision 

but goodness did it create an indulgent buzz 

and he curses under his breath when your brazen response crackles through the comms 

“you serve our country,” your lips curl at the ends as you breathe out, “I just want to serve you.” 

-

when you laugh at his jokes 

honestly ghost wouldn’t coin himself as being a “jokester”

prefers if the other members told jokes to keep the mood lighthearted,, which he knows is essential to keeping up morale during missions

but if the time comes then his quick thinking is perfect for him to conjure up a joke or two 

granted, it wouldn’t be the best jokes 

ghost’s humor could be described as— interesting 

very interesting 

and a consensus that the other squad members agree with is that his jokes lean more towards dark humor >.> 

like don’t get them wrong! dark humor could be used to transcend heavier emotions and share stronger emotions,, which is especially the case for ghost but they prefer to keep the jests easygoing (for the most part) 

and ghost doesn’t really mind when his humor is overlooked in most situations since he understands it’s an acquired preference 

but boy do you live to test him 

“please? can’t you tell me at least one?” 

you were at it again,, forcing your hands together while you conjured up all your effort to make your bottom lip quiver in a dramatic pout 

leave it to you to corner ghost in the hallway right when he exited the maintenance room 

caught him by surprise too! had to abruptly halt to stop the front of his tactical vest from bumping into you since he almost didn’t spot you because you were tucked so close to the doorway 

he had raised a single, sharp brow to wordlessly ask if you needed anything from him,, mostly expecting that you’d usher him somewhere else to gather next mission’s intel 

but ghost didn’t predict that you’d practically raced across the base just to ask him to tell you a joke 

“just haven’t heard you tell one to the task force,” you casually explained which only added to his confusion 

and he doesn’t know what aided in your curiosity to hear one of his jokes since you never disclosed how it had been a topic discussed among the group,, about how hearing a joke from ghost was a rarity 

a part of you wished to prove them wrong 

so you drew your lower lip between your teeth and dragged your eyes up until they were leveled with his 

“please? for me?” 

he can hear the lighter pitch of your voice when you’re pleading like this but he remains unmoving,, only crossing his arms to watch the act you put on

the corners of your mouth fall almost unceremoniously upon noticing ghost’s impassive front,, the goal of hearing one of his jokes slowly floating further and further away from your grasp  

when you press yourself close enough for him to get a whiff of your sweet perfume, however, he rasps, “don’t do that.” 

“what?” 

“you think every time you say, ‘please? for me?’ I’ll do whatever you want,” ghost chides while slowly shaking his head, “well, not this time.” 

because he knows better than to give in to your every whim– no matter how insignificant it was 

it would build a bad habit if he always agreed to taking on your work or tasks,, which would evolve into small demands that he’d be burdened to complete along with his personal work 

at least, he thinks he knows better 

but then you nibble on your bottom lip and softly ask again, “please? for me?” 

and he finds himself huffing out a heavy breath, dragging his gloved hand across his face, and uttering, “fine.” 

so he stiffly stands there, lost in thought, until a couple awkward moments of silence pass

by this time you weren’t expecting much, assuming that ghost would rely on a cliche joke to tell you since you hadn’t given him much time to prepare in advance 

but his throaty voice knocks you out of your stupor, “what do you call someone who just got run over by a tank?” 

and there you go– you had all that you desired since ghost managed to tell you a joke 

he observes how you tilt your head,, mind racing in response to his joke before you ultimately give up with a small shrug 

his eyes follow the gentle curve of shoulders before meeting your gaze again 

ghost figures that he’d answer for you 

“crunchy.” 

a beat of silence,, ghost glances away  

there’s no way he would’ve envisioned the feedback you’d give him in return to his (rather) dark humor but hearing your overjoyed giggles made him think he’d hit the ultimate jackpot 

“that’s a good one,” you manage to compliment between your fit of laughter, “I liked it.”  

your hand outstretched to gently shove at ghost’s arm,, aware of the solid mass that served as the top of his bicep and you immediately withdraw your hand at the realization  

peering back at you, he recognizes the mirth that swirls in your eyes and notes the pride that swells within him 

because you’re laughing at his joke 

the intensity grips at him,, threatening to never let him go so long as you’re next to him 

it’s addicting 

he quietly continues staring at you as your mouth curves into a delighted smile 

and he tries to memorize the action,, comparing your smile to the brilliant half-moons that he’d spot in the dark skies during nightly missions,, and the sight is almost too beautiful to avert his gaze from 

similar to how a person that enjoys art ogles at intricate and exquisite paintings 

before he rethinks his decision, he decides to speak up 

“don’t smile at me like that.” 

and although it sounds like a reprimand, the words leave his lips almost tenderly as he gazes at you 

-

saying “please”

you weren’t typically one to complain about a long, drawn-out day because learning how to cope with them was part of your job 

but today just wasn’t your day :( 

from hauling extra equipment across the base, getting a light scolding from the higher-ups, and waiting for directions while in the frigid air– it was exhausting 

not to mention that the oncoming headache, as well as chills, indicated that sickness was upon you 

and as the back of your head hit the couch’s plush pillow,, your relieved exhale was a huge indicator that relaxing was the dream for you 

yet, having time to rest was too good to be true 

as price ushered the rest of 141 to gather around, there was a debate to enforce lookout duty for the night 

just the usual scouting for any navigation marks, ships, or hazards,, which was more difficult to spot in the dark 

there were clear directions given to the members on who would be put on lookout duty 

and what do you know, it was your turn to lead 

so you’re absolutely dreading your shift, desperately attempting to shrug the burden off to someone else 

“soap,” you hesitantly call out before the task force members could waltz to their own rooms, “do me a solid and trade shifts with me, will you?” 

there’s a flicker of consideration in soap’s cerulean-colored eyes when he notices your lack of energy and enthusiasm towards lookout duty but he’s unwilling to give up his few hours of rest as well 

“am pure done in. I can’t stay awake,” soap explains with a grimace, “sorry ‘bout that, bonnie.” 

forcing the frown on your face to turn into a stiff smile, you allow him to brush past you while you reassure him, “I understand.” 

then you were onto your next victim comrade 

“how about you, gaz,” you shift closer to the sergeant just before he leaves, “mind taking lookout duty from me?” 

he pivots using the heel of his foot, not quite expecting that you’d ask because you were usually the first to volunteer for the shift, and raises his brows 

gaz tips his cap in your direction to serve as an apologetic gesture, “afraid I can’t, (y/n).” 

and just like that, the entirety of the squad leaves you standing in the main room 

defeated 

your eyes catch the burnt-orange hue casted along the horizon, signaling that dusk was upon you and your stalling would be inevitable 

with a huff, you’re about to leave the room to situate yourself at the observatory deck when you catch sight of a lingering figure 

“lieutenant?” 

upon hearing his rank, ghost glances up from his task of dusting off his handgun and crumples the dirty rag in his hand 

he’s leaning against the edge of the table, feet spread apart to stabilize himself 

his dead-set eyes wordlessly prods you to continue talking and you force down the lump in your throat, “sorry. I was just surprised to see you still here, that’s all.” 

he’s clearly exhausted 

the usual tenseness in his shoulders has slowly diminished to where he appears withdrawn 

yet he thumbs at the weapon’s magazine and your eyes watch as the design on his gloves seem to dance at the action 

ghost nods once,, not one for small talk and you internally groaned at that late realization

silence ensues  

when an idea pops into your mind– why not ask ghost to take your watch duty? 

he’d understand, right?

inklings of doubt begin to gnaw at you but you were utterly desperate for rest tonight and your headache was worsening by the second 

“sir,” you meekly initiate before you have the chance to back down, “would you be willing to take my lookout duty shift?” 

your voice wavers, it’s blatantly obvious, and the anxiousness urges you to ramble on, “sorry! I don’t usually ask others to switch with me. it’s just been a really long day and I think I could benefit with some sleep. which, now that I’m thinking about it, anyone would benefit from sleep since everyone’s exhausted from the mission but what I’m trying to say is–” 

ghost raises a gloved hand

it’s a silent command to get you to halt and he rises to his feet 

you note the way his eyes deliberately scan the room before taking a step in your direction 

his tactical gear rattles,, the clasps slightly swinging due to the movement but he crosses the space between the two of you with ease 

the close proximity is perfect to get a glimpse of his opaque eyes which are obscured from smudged eye paint 

tucking his index finger underneath your chin, he lifts your face so you’re forced to maintain his stare, and his pale lashes flutter when he narrows his eyes 

“use your words.” 

the command is throaty, gruff, and deliciously low 

it takes you a second to regain your composure, inwardly stunned at how enticing his voice sounded, and decide to take a moment to gather your thoughts 

his touch is warm 

and ghost’s gaze was specifically fixed on you 

however, his hard stare flickers when your teeth gently tug at your bottom lip while you ponder the most effective way to get your point across 

you would need to use your final resort to sway ghost into covering your shift!

“I’m just not feeling the best right now and would really appreciate it if you took lookout duty instead.” you explained in sincerity 

it’s a good tactic– great even, but it wasn’t the final trick up your sleeve 

but it didn’t matter what you were explaining to ghost (whether you were giving him a half-assed excuse or ultimately feeling unwell) because he wasn’t listening,, too focused on the glimmer that shined within your wide eyes  

and the sparkle became more apparent under the dim light

ghost’s grasp tilted your chin upwards,, he’s silent and awaiting your next ploy 

he, however, wasn’t expecting the next word to tumble from your lips in a soft, pleading whisper 

“please.” 

his restraint runs alarmingly thin,, his finger that’s tucked underneath your chin twitches and the desire to encourage you to say it again is evident

“what was that?” 

the question is uttered so dangerously low that you gulp before softly repeating, “please, lieutenant.” 

and goodness did you look alluring while voicing it 

he’s at a standstill 

not to mention that he delights in the unwarranted swipe of your tongue over your plush lips,, wetting them just enough to shine 

and as he’s staring down at you, you’re peering up at him but he’s so unbelievably tall that you crowd yourself closer 

bloody hell 

the warmth radiating off your body reminds him of your proximity and before he can fall victim to your coquetry he reels back

who was he to tell you no?

“fine.” 

it’s a simple response uttered by ghost that immensely pleases you and you can’t help but wonder how permissive he was about it 

“really?” you question, brows shooting up in surprise because it was rare for the lieutenant to willingly volunteer to cover someone else’s lookout duty 

he drops the hand holding your chin and nods once 

busying himself by rechecking his handgun for full ammunition, he chastises how easily he made his decision 

can’t blame him though

ghost would’ve been a goner if you continued pleading to him using your expressive eyes,, the ones that cause his fingers to inch closer to hold you 

the most dangerous weapon he’s faced (in all honesty) 

and he’d rather NOT be rendered speechless in front of you 

he tucks the gun into the proper spot on his holster and turns to leave in accordance to his end of the compromise 

but not before he coolly mentions, “you should do that more.” 

you’re confused but ultimately satisfied to have finally issued your shift to someone else 

head tilting due to ghost’s comment, you decide to clarify what he meant 

“do what more, lieutenant?” 

“beg.” 

[redstarwriting]

happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

───────────────────────────────────

“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?” 

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right. 

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

───────────────────────────────────

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (PART 2)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Mob! Bucky x reader

Part 1 can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/737816177450041344/bartender-part-1

AN; thank you for all the love on part 1!

Warnings: drinking, gun violence, references to the mob, blood, MINORS DNI

Summary; bartending for an elite club to make ends meet. you don’t realise you’ve stumbled into the lair of Bucky Barnes.

He paid for my fee? What the fuck?

Now you knew something was up. First the staring, and now this. Your head was reeling with questions as you made your way inside your apartment, gently closing the door. He is just taking care of one of his employees.

Slipping into your pajamas and flicking the kettle on, you decided to attempt to unwind from your night. Everything was fine until this man decided to act all unpredictable.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky couldn’t be any more pleased that you had accepted a ride from one of his drivers. You hadn’t questioned how the driver had started heading in the direction of your apartment block before you had revealed your address. He hoped you were flattered by the lift.

He wasn’t used to this. To pursuing his women. Most would flock to him, laying down at his feet. Providing nothing but a quick, cheap fuck.

When Bucky had left the club, he instantly headed to his office, shaking Steve off when he suggested he should head home.

“Steve, just leave me”, Bucky sighed as Steve reluctantly let his friend out of his grip. He could see the blaze in Bucky’s eyes, the focus in his upper body. There was no stopping him when he was like this, this drive was how he had risen through the ranks of the mob so ruthlessly.

Bucky sat in his office chair. He’d received your name and address from Sam, and Steve had found your social media sites. He grinned when he told his driver your address, having to hold himself back from scoping out the apartment block, but his grin grew even more when he opened your social media accounts. A couple pictures of you smiling with Nat, one from your graduation, and none with a boyfriend. He wasn’t expecting that.

You were so different. He found himself wondering about you, pondering your past and how you’d come to work at one of his clubs. He wondered if you knew what you were getting yourself in for, the people you were working for. Part of him wanted to tell you to run while you could, to turn your back and never return, but another part of him felt glad. Signing the contract to bartend his club was the perfect entanglement of your lives. He always got what he wanted.

When you arrived at the club the next night, he made sure to request you to serve his drinks.

When Nat told you the news, that he wanted you to deliver his drinks, you felt your face scrunch. Why me? You didn’t want a repeat of yesterday's events, so you told Nat to help you reapply your lipgloss, and attempt to give you some form of a pep talk before you grabbed the tray of five straight whiskeys.

“He wouldn’t ask you to serve his drinks if he didn’t think you were a good server. Now pucker your lips-” Nat explained absentmindedly.

“It’s just so weird. I mean, it was so awkward yesterday”

“Maybe he likes that?” You giggled. No way. Nevertheless, you appreciated Nat’s efforts to calm your nerves.

She continued, “well I know plenty of women would pay to serve him so…”, she elbowed you, referencing his good looks.

“Nat. That just makes it worse! He’s hot and he knows it, and he knows I know it-“, you rambled.

“And maybe he finds you hot”, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at that, as your best friend handed the tray of drinks to you.

Deep breath. He’s just a man. You’ve got this.

Heading up the stairs to the secluded room again, you felt a little shaky. As you drew the curtain back, the same silence fell over the room. It was all the same men from last night, the tall blond one, the dark skinned one, one sitting in a red suit and the long haired brunette.

You spoke first. Surprising yourself at that. “H-hello. I just wanted to thank you for the ride home last night… and also I have five whiskeys.”

The man at the head of the table let out an exhale, shaking his hair away from his face, “it was no problem honey. There will be one waiting outside for you tonight too.”

You were taken aback. A small, but grateful smile gracing your face. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“That’s… really kind of you, thank you. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“Ah-ah-ah”, Bucky tsked, standing up from his chair. God, he is massive. So tall. So broad. Your head craned to look up at him. Your stomach was flipping at his comment, “you won’t pay me back for anything”, he grabbed the tray from your hands, fingers brushing yours.

You sent him a smile, opening your mouth to wish him a thank you before leaving. You left the room with your hands shaking.

Bucky was obsessed with the way he made you nervous, and the way your dress cinched your waist. He saw everything. The way your hands shook when he brushed your fingers, the way your eyes lit up when you took in his build, and the way your cheeks flushed when he let his eyes roam your figure. He felt his cock grow hard when he saw that you didn’t spare a glance to any of the other men in the room, just him. You were his. Whether you knew it or not.

You let elation carry you through the rest of the night. You spent the next few hours behind the bar, your eyes trailing to the curtained room far more often than you liked. With watching Nat flirt with the regulars, and poke you in the ribs occasionally, you felt yourself relax into your role.

That was until you heard a popping sound. Repeatedly. And then screaming.

You were paralysed. Deafened by the noise, and then the sight of masked men enclosing the club, shoving guests down, smashing glasses, and shooting their guns into the air.

Panic seized you, gripping you by the throat. Nat pulled you onto the ground harshly, your chin smacking the cold floor behind the bar.

“Just be quiet. It’s okay. They’ll be here for boss, not us”, Nat explained frantically, as if she’d experienced this before. You couldn’t breath, just wheezing in manufactured gasps, eyes wide.

“N-Nat. I’m so scared”, you felt tears pooling in your eyes as the club quietened. You could hear footsteps. Quick ones. People were leaving. You assured yourself that maybe they weren’t trying to hurt anyone.

You could hear the men approaching the bar. Oh my god, this is it. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the scene unfolding before you.

Your whole body seizing up as you felt a hand grab your upper arm, pulling you up, holding your body against theirs. You couldn’t see who it was, and your thoughts ran at a hundred miles-per-hour. As the figure pulled you to your feet, you looked across the bar, Bucky’s associates restraining the men. Sam kicked the gun from one's hand, then pushed him into the ground. Steve had the other backed into a corner, repeatedly pounding him in the jaw.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you. Let’s go. Come on.” The voice in your ear soothed you. You recognised it as Bucky’s. He brushed your hair from your face and wiped the tears from your cheeks with his rough hand. You could hear him yell something to Steve about grabbing Nat, but the pounding in your ears began to drown him out. He was practically walking for you, your feet barely scraping the floor.

He led you to the car parked outside the back of the club. Sitting you down and pulling the seat belt across your body. He was drinking you in. Looking at your red eyes and swollen lips.

“I am so sorry, honey. I have a… couple of enemies in the city. That will never, ever happen again”, he faltered over his words, carefully picking them.

You were shell shocked. Only able to nod in a fake understanding. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

“Look, let me take you home”, Bucky brushed a strand of disturbed hair behind your ear, his thumb running across your bottom lip. God you look gorgeous. He was obsessed with your swollen lips and the way you were clinging to him as if he was the weight holding you to reality. He hated the situation, the imposing mob hydra infiltrating his club at a poor attempt to establish fear, but god you looked insane.

He grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your palm. He tried to explain, briefly, the situation. He ran a company which focused on the safety of citizens in the city. Some tried to breach that. To bring drugs, disorder and chaos in the city as a quick way to make money. You didn’t need to know all the details, he thought. He knew he was omitting information, making himself out to be the good guy. He’d done things he was ashamed of. Wronged good people. Eliminated the competition. Acted ruthlessly to own the city. But you didn't need to know that.

He was drunk on the way you were shaking in his arms. The power that he had to comfort you. He couldn’t help but smile. An open fire by the enemy mob has done nothing but bring me closer to what I want.

Bucky helped you get out of the car, walking you up to your apartment. Even after everything you’d witnessed, your boss helping you up the stairs to your flat brought you to reality. You didn’t question how he knew which floor and door to stop at.

“I-thank you for walking me back but, you should go now”, you couldn’t meet his eyes. The events of the night were catching up on you. You wanted to call Nat and lay in bed.

The tall man made you look at him, picking up your chin with his forefinger. He turned his head slightly as you locked eyes with him. You were just so gorgeous. He wanted to kiss you. But not like this. Not when you were this shocked. He wanted to make it special. Rose petals and champagne. Not like this. So he made a point to look at your chin, bloodied from hitting the ground earlier.

“At least let me clean this up”, god he was so convincing. You opened your door and let him follow you in. You grabbed your first aid kit from your bathroom, telling him to make himself comfortable.

You let him wipe your chin, and gently place a plaster over it. His free hand rubbing circles into your shoulder and the nape of your neck. It was close, sensual even. He felt his cock still at the way you closed your eyes and let your head tilt back when his thumb hit your sensitive spot. He wanted you like this all the time. Relaxed, open, and submissive. You allowed yourself to bask in his touch, and the comfort it brought. You deserve this after the day you’ve had.

“Please, come into my office tomorrow, I can’t have you coming back into work in this state. I need you to feel completely comfortable”, Bucky practically demanded. He wanted to take care of you so badly.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You could confide in him. You could ease yourself back into the club. Unaware of the undertones of comfortable.

“T-thank you Bucky. I’ll be there.” You dropped your eyes and thanked him for the care. He ran his hands down your arms before retreating towards the door. You needed this job, and you needed the money. This situation can’t change that.

You slipped into bed, questioning what exactly you would be doing with your boss tomorrow.

Meanwhile Bucky headed back to the club. There were two masked men in his basement he needed to deal with.

Next part here! https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/738091620032987136/the-bartender-part-3

TAGLIST

@melsunshine @scott-loki-barnes

[winchesterwild78]

Taking Care of Each Other

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader 

Warnings: Dean and his silly walls (yes that’s a warning), Smut!, unprotected sex (cover it up people), aftercare 

A/N: Last anon request for what aftercare would look like between Dean and the reader. I’m using the character, Dean, but this does not follow the Supernatural story at all. No disrespect to anyone, this is a work of fiction. All work is my own. I do not give permission for it to be taken. This was written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Dean Winchester, the green eyed man that rolls through town every few months for his job that he can’t tell you about. All he says is it’s “the family business” and his brother, Sam and him took it over when their father died. 

You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him the first time you met him, but one thing led to another and let’s be honest, how could anyone say no to him. He was built like he was carved by the gods and he was a very skilled lover. He took you places in the bed you’d never been and he always made you feel like you were the only woman in his life.

You were sure that wasn’t the case, but it was nice to think you were. Even if it was only for a few days. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You heard the familiar voice behind you. You turned around and came face to face with Dean Winchester. “Hey, Dean. Good to see you”, you turned to fill the coffee of another customer. 

You felt his eyes on you the whole time you helped customers. You came back to his table to take his order. “Do you want your usual, Dean? Cheeseburger, fries, drink and a slice of cherry pie?” He touched your arm “You know me so well, sweetheart.” You pulled away. “I’ll put your order in, Dean. Sammy not joining you to eat?” 

“No, Sam didn’t come with me on this trip. Is everything okay, you don’t normally pull away from me.” “Yes, I’m just busy, Dean. We all can’t be our own boss.” You didn’t mean to sound snippy, but you were tired of the yoyo relationship with him. 

He sat back and watched you working. He loved watching you work and interact with people. That’s what drew him to you, your sweet personality and your kindness. He often thought about you on his hunts. Dean wanted to tell you about his life and what he did, but he needed to keep you safe.

Dean’s order was ready so you grabbed it from the window and walked it over to him. “Here’s your order, Dean. Let me know if you need anything else.” Dean looked at you “Thank you, Y/N. Um, what time do you get off?” “I get off in about an hour, why?” “Well, I was hoping we could talk.” “Talk?!? Ha! I didn’t know the great Dean Winchester knew how to talk with his clothes on.” 

“Wow, okay. Sorry I asked. I’ll eat and be out of your hair.” Dean looked defeated. You walked away and your heart broke. Why did you talk to him like that? He didn’t deserve it. You walked around the diner helping other customers, but your eyes kept looking over at Dean. He’d barely touched his food. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest.

Once your tables were cleared you walked over to Dean and sat across from him. “Dean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. It’s unfair and just mean. If I’m being honest I’m just hurt. I feel like our relationship is just a convenience for you when you’re in town. I don’t know anything about your job, and you keep all these walls up. I care about you. If I’m being completely honest, I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s green eyes looked up at you and he took your hand. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. My life is hard and I just wanted to protect you from it. I care about you too. You’re not just a convenience for me.” 

“Dean, then please trust me enough to tell me about your life. I want to know all about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’d give up everything to be with you. I know you have walls up, but dammit, Dean I’m going to break them down if it’s the last thing I do.” Dean smirked. “I know you will, darlin’. How about after you get off we go back to your place and talk. If you want to.” “Dean, I’d love to.”

About 2 hours later you were pulling into your driveway with Dean behind you in the Impala. Dean climbed out of the car looking sexy as ever. You bit your lip. You shook your head, No! Stop it. You can’t end up in bed with him. You’re here to talk.  

Dean walked up and looked around. “The house looks great, sweetheart.” “Thanks, Dean. I’ve tried to keep it up. I just finished remodeling the inside. Shall we go in?” Dean shook his head yes. 

Once inside your dog, Tilly came bounding up to Dean. She always loved him and was excited to see him. Dean sat on the couch and Tilly jumped up and licked him while wagging her tail. He laughed as she covered him with licks. You loved his laugh. 

“Dean, I’m going to go change. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  “Okay, Tilly and I will be here waiting.” “You can grab a beer if you want.” Dean nodded and you turned to head towards your room.

Dean stood up and walked around looking around at how things had changed since he was last there. “Looks good, Tilly. She’s been busy.” Tilly wagged her tail at Dean. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. As he sat down on the couch, you came back into the living room with an oversized shirt and shorts on. Dean smirked, he realized the shirt you were wearing was one of his. 

“What’s so funny, Winchester?” “Oh nothing, just that shirt was mine.” You looked down and blushed. “Well, I like it. It’s comfortable.” You and Dean stared at each other for a few minutes. You felt yourself leaning in. Tilly jumped up and you cleared your throat. 

“So, Dean, what did you want to talk about?” You asked softly. Dean shifted on the couch and turned towards you. “Sweetheart, I wanted to talk about us. You know my job takes me all over the country. It’s dangerous and has cost me people I love. I’ve tried to keep you out of it to protect you. I wouldn’t survive if something happened to you too. He took a deep breath and let it out. Sammy and I hunt things, monsters and other bad things. All of it is real, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, you name it. We cross the country protecting people and helping families that are in danger.” Dean placed his hand on your face, running his thumb over your cheek. “You mean too much to me. I meant it when I told you that you were the only one I’ve been with since we met. I think about you when I’m gone and can’t wait to see you again.”

“Sammy didn’t come with me this time because I asked him to stay at the bunker. I wanted to come and talk to you. I’m not here on a job.” You sat on the couch staring at Dean trying to take in everything he told you. “So, monsters are real, and you go around the country killing them? You’ve been doing this since you were little? Oh my god Dean. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that.” 

“Hey, Y/N, I’m fine. It just made me tougher.” You took your hand and placed it gently on Dean’s face. “It’s still not right. I’m sure your dad did the best he could, but you deserve so much more.” You leaned close, stopping halfway hoping he would move the rest of the way. Dean looked in your eyes and moved towards you. 

He placed a soft kiss on your lips and you kissed him back. Dean’s tongue swiped your lips asking for entrance. You opened your mouth slightly and Dean deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth and more when you felt his hands trailing up your body.

Dean loved to touch you and be close to you. After what he told you about his childhood and life, you realized he craved touch because he was so touch starved. It made your heart hurt for him.  

His hands played with the hem of your shirt and you pulled out of the kiss long enough to remove your shirt. Dean bit his lip when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. “Damn baby, just as beautiful as ever.” 

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands trailed up your body from your hips to your breasts. His calloused hands slowly cupped your breasts and you moaned. Dean took his left thumb and index finger and squeezed your left nipple, while he took your right one in his mouth. He started sucking. Pulling a loud moan from your lips as your head leaned back.

He smirked around your nipple. Dean knew all the spots that drove you wild. You knew how to drive him wild too. 

Feeling the slick pool between your thighs you knew you wanted Dean. Through the thin material of the shorts you had on, you could feel Dean’s hardness through his jeans. You moved your body down into his erection. Causing a growl to come from his lips. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” You looked in his eyes, now dark green with lust. You bit your lip and pulled him in for a deep kiss.Your walls clenched. Between pants you pulled back “Dean, take me to the bedroom, please.” “Are you sure, sweetheart?” “Yes, Dean. I want you.”

Dean picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed gently before closing the door with his foot. Dean removed his shoes and shirt, and slid his jeans down looking directly in your eyes. 

He drove you wild when he did that. He knew it too. You groaned and leaned your head back, Dean chuckled. He made his way to the bed and hovered over you, kissing your lips. His lips trailed down your neck, biting your pulse point making you moan. Dean continued kissing down your body until he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you through his eyelashes.

He was asking for permission to remove them. You nodded yes and he hooked his fingers and pulled them down with your panties. You lifted your hips to help him. Dean threw your clothes to the side and kissed his way up your thigh. He used his hands to gently part your legs. Exposing your dripping wet core to him. 

You could see his hardness through his boxers. You both looked at each other with lust and love in your eyes. Dean slid off his boxers and his hardness sprang free. You huffed out a shaky breath. Dean was the biggest you’d ever had. He filled you and made you feel things you hadn’t before. 

As he climbed between your legs his hand slid up your thigh. He used his right hand to part your folds, feeling your wetness and need. You bucked your hips into his hand and moaned. “Please, Dean.” “Patience sweetheart.” He purred in your ear. 

You felt his fingers dip into your wet pussy and his thumb rub circles on your swollen clit. Dean moved his fingers and thumb faster, helping you chase your much needed release. You moved your hips into his hand. You were close. Faster than you thought you’d get there. “Dean…I’m….close.” Your breath hitched

“I know baby, cum for me. Come on, let it all go.” Dean whispered. With a deep moan you came hard, squeezing his fingers and releasing your juices. Dean pulled out his fingers and leaned up, capturing your lips. “You ready, baby?” Dean asked as he lined himself up to you. You nodded yes. 

Dean pumped himself a few times and placed the tip at your entrance. As he pushed in you both gasped and moaned. It had been far too long since you two had been together. He pushed the rest of the way in bottoming out. Dean stilled himself for a minute, trying to compose himself. 

He didn’t want to cum too fast, but you felt amazing wrapped around him. Dean’s movements were slow and meticulous. He was savoring every second he had you in his arms. His lips found yours as he slowly moved in and out of you. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair. The sound of moans and pants of pleasure filled the room. 

You’d slept with Dean many times before, but this time felt different. Something had shifted between you two once he told you about his life. 

With every touch and kiss you felt Dean’s walls coming down. His eyes filled with so much love and relief. Dean’s head rested in the crook of your neck as he slowly moved in you. His hot breath on your body sent chills down your spine. Your hands traced up and down his back, feeling how his muscles moved. 

Your resolve was wearing down. You didn’t want to fall deeper in love with him, because you didn’t want to be hurt, but you couldn’t help it. In a breathy voice you whispered “I love you, Dean. So much.” Dean stilled and looked in your eyes. He softly kissed your lips and said “I love you too, sweetheart.”

This was the first time he’d ever said it to you. Usually he said he cared about you or you meant a lot to him, but he never said ‘love’. As Dean got closer to his release, he sped up a little. With one final thrust he spilled his hot seed deep inside you. Coating your walls with white ropes of cum. 

He slowly pulled out as he felt himself softening and got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned he brought a warm washcloth to clean you up. Dean cleaned you gently, leaned up and kissed your lips before leaving the room. 

When he returned he had brought you water. Handing you the water, he grabbed the sheet and covered you both up as he crawled in next to you. When you placed the cup down, he held out his arm for you to lay on. 

Dean pulled you close to him and you laid your head on his chest, delicately tracing his tattoo with your finger tips. He kissed the top of your head “I do love you Y/N, so much. I’ve been a fool. I should have told you a long time ago.” You looked up at him “Shh, it’s okay baby, you told me and that’s all that matters.” 

Dean smiled and kissed your lips. “Hey, move in with me. Move in with me and Sammy.” You sat up “What?! You want me to move in with you?” “Yes! That way I don’t have to be away from you. You can have your own room if you want or we can share my room. What do you say?” You looked at Dean’s face so full of love and eagerness, “Yes. Yes, Dean I’ll move in with you.” 

He smiled and captured your lips with his. You laid your head back down on his chest and he pulled you tighter. Being with Dean was always amazing, but afterwards was your favorite part. It’s when Dean’s softer side really showed. He always made sure you were taken care of and felt safe. He loved holding you and would trace patterns on your back. At first you thought it was random movements, then you realized he was actually writing his name with his finger tips. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever experienced. 

Moving in together was a huge step for you too, but you knew you would always take care of each other. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937

[hayleythesugarbowl]

I need more ian hecox in my life!!

can I please get a fluff of them revealing feelings somehow through shayne's guess your celebrity crush video 🙏

or maybe ian winning their what would *blank* do? video (because he knows them so well 😊) and someone else in the cast making reader realize that he has big o'l feelings for them!!!

I love your work so so much!! 🫶

Celebrity Crush || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you have liked ian for some time now and despite your cast mates attempts at telling you that ian feels the same way, you don’t believe them. that is, until some interesting things are revealed through a video

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

a/n: ahh i hope you enjoy this darling!! i kinda went with both of these ideas so i hope you like what i did 🤭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “And for the win—or, for second place, because Ian is in the lead by eleven points—if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, what would it be?”

     You smiled at the contestants, waiting. You were almost done filming ‘What Would (Y/n) Do?’ and Ian was smoking the other two competitors.

     Spencer and Courtney sat on either side of Ian, thinking on your most recent question. Ian was already writing something down on his whiteboard.

     So far, he had known almost everything about you. What your worst memory was, what item of clothing you’d want to wear if you weren’t scared to, what kind of cereal you most identified with. 

     You hadn’t known he remembered all of this stuff—some of it being things you’d only mentioned once or a really long time ago. You had known Ian for years. But, then again, you’d known Courtney and Spencer just as long.

     “Okay,” Courtney said, “I’m ready!”

     “Why don’t you start us off then,” you turned to her. “What food would I want to eat for the rest of my life?”

     “I said that one thing you get from Starbucks because I see you with it every morning,” they said, flipping their board. “And then I drew you at the bottom, see?”

     “Good answer,” you nodded at them. “And good artistry. Spencer?” 

     “I wrote pizza ‘cause your basic,” Spencer shrugged and everyone off-camera laughed. “And I think this game is bogus and rigged and also Ian cheated.”

     You giggled. “Guess who’s not getting any points this round? Anyway, Ian, last but certainly not least?”

     “Ok, remember back in 2017 when we went to that buffet for Keith’s birthday? You had that sandwich there that you said you’d sell your soul to eat for the first time again, so I went with that.”

     “I quit,” Spencer put the cap on his pen. “Courtney, you wanna go get some lunch?”

     They laughed, sharing a look. 

     You were too busy being shocked. You couldn’t believe he had remembered that. You hadn’t even remembered that. 

     “Wow Ian, I have to give you, like, 10 points for that because even I would’ve forgotten that but you’re so right!”

     “Courtney,” you continued. “I’m giving you 5, because I do love Starbucks. And Spencer gets none.”

     You smiled sweetly at Spencer and he flipped you off. You rolled your eyes at him.

     “And that means,” you finished. “With a total of 207 points—which might be the most we’ve ever had on here—Ian wins!”

     Everyone clapped and you began to do the outro, going on autopilot as you told the viewers to subscribe and click on the videos at the bottom of their screen.

     When the shoot was over, everyone began to disperse, all busy with different videos to film and edit.

     “Congratulations,” you told Ian. “I can’t believe you knew some of that stuff.”

     “Hey, what can I say,” he shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “I pay attention. And you’re a very interesting person.”

     “I think we learned from all of the deatails here today that I’m not an interesting person,” you joked. 

     “Well, call me boring because I’m interested,” Ian said.

     You smiled, trying your hardest not to blush. You might have had a teeny, tiny crush on Ian ever since you had begun working at Smosh. 

     You stayed like that for a moment, before Ian said something about having to film a video and you said your farewells.

     He walked away and you turned around to find Courtney and Spencer waiting for you.

     “Um, what was that?” Courtney gestured to the set. 

     “What was what?” You asked them.

     “I think Courtney means the fact that Ian basically just wrote your biography,” Spencer added, putting his hands in his pockets. 

     “He knows you better than you know you!” Courtney exclaimed. They waggled their eyebrows, saying in a sing-song voice,  “I think he likes you.”

     “Dude’s obsessed,” Spencer piped in. 

     You shrugged. “What? No! We’ve known each other for a long time, that’s all.”

     “I’ve known you for a long time, and I wouldn’t have known that the item you wish you hadn’t gotten rid of was the necklace you wore to VidCon in 2018,” Courtney put their hands on their hips. 

      Okay, so they had a fair point. How did Ian remember all of this stuff about you? You refused to believe it was because he had feelings for you. Both Court and Spencer knew about your long-time crush on Ian, and they were probably just being nice.

     “He’s our boss, remember? He has to know his employees well,” you defended.

     “(Y/n), he didn’t know my first name was Charles until like last week,” Spencer said. “And yet he knows what you almost called the fish you won in second grade—which, by the way, Rover? That’s a dog name and I think Kevin is much better.”

     “Spencer’s right, my guy,” Courtney patted your shoulder. “Not about the fish thing—but Ian does, in fact, have a good, old-fashioned crush on you.”

     “This is ridiculous,” you said. “Just because I like him, doesn’t mean he likes me. And after one video of him knowing some facts about me, you think you have it all figured out?”

     “Oh it’s not just this video,” Courtney said. “You think Ian leaves little notes on all of our desks? Do you think he gets all of us coffee every day? Do you think he smiles that big when all of any of us enter a room?”

     You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped. You kind of had thought he did all of those things for everyone. You just thought he was a nice person—it was part of what attracted you to him—but you didn’t equate it to him thinking you were anything all that special. 

     “And you guys are sure?” Was all you said.

     Courtney smiled knowingly. “Yes. It’s honestly adorable. Trust me, from our perspective, Ian totally has it bad for you.”

     “That or he cheats at games, which we still haven’t completely ruled out,” Spencer teased. 

     Could all of this really be true? You tried to think back on all of your previous interactions with Ian. He had always been kind to you, interested in what you had to say, complimentary and supportive. In truth, you had mostly been blinded by your own attraction to Ian to every really focus on how he acted towards you. 

     “If Ian has feelings for me,” you stated, “which I’m not saying I think he does, what would I even do?”

     “Ask him out,” Courtney shrugged. “It’s about time, you’ve been in love with each other for years now.”

     Were you really going to do this? You felt your heart beating faster, your stomach already flipping at the thought of telling Ian how you feel. But, if your friends were right, then maybe he would feel the same way. 

     “Okay,” you looked at both of them. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

     “Yay!” Courtney cheered.

     “Go get ‘em,” Spencer added.

     You walked off the set, and as you left you heard Spencer talking to Courtney as they made their way in the opposite direction.

     “I’m just saying, I think I should have at least gotten a couple points for Kevin!”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Finding Ian was a lot harder than you had thought. He was busy filming all day, and you could never find a foot time to catch him in between shoots.

     Whenever you did see him, he would smile at you shyly and then suddenly need to be somewhere. You thought he was acting a bit weird, and it might have just been his busy schedule and the tiredness that accompanied it, but he almost seemed…nervous for something? 

     Finally, you gave up trying to talk to Ian and sat down against the wall to watch as they filmed the ‘Can Shayne Guess our Celebrity Crush?’ video.

     From the sound of it, Shayne was nearing the end of the video. You only partially listened as you scrolled on your phone. 

     “Well, damn,” you heard Shayne say. “Really thought I had that one. Then again, did I really except to get someone from art department right?”

     “Moving on to the next set of crushes,” he continued. “We have Bridget Mendler—good choice. Kesha—I think I know who this is already. And…”

     Shayne paused, and the whole studio became quiet. You looked up.

      “…(Y/n),” Shayne finished. You looked towards the monitor, seeing the images of the two other celebrities and yourself on the screen.

     Shayne looked at you off-camera. “This list is crazy. I’m going to take a wild guess and say this is Ian.”

     His eyes landed on a spot in the distance and you followed them, seeing Ian leaning against the wall, a ways away from you. You searched his face, but he was looking anywhere but you.

     “Is it Ian?” Shayne pointed at the screen and, sure enough, a picture of Ian’s face popped up. 

     You felt the breath leave your lungs. What had just happened? Had Ian just admitted to having a crush on you through a video? 

     Back on set, Shayne was running his hands through his hair, saying, “Well, that’ll give the fans something to think about…”

     But you could only watch Ian, making your way to where he was standing. You were aware of everybody’s eyes on you.

     “Really?” Was all you said once you reached him, your voice coming out as a whisper.

     Ian smiled at you. “Hey, you’re on famous birthdays, I think that counts as a celebrity.”

     That was all the encouragement you needed. Just like that, you kissed him. And he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you. 

    “Yeah baby!” You heard someone shoot, and you pulled away to see Courtney beaming at you.

     “I promise I didn’t know that was going to happen,” Spencer grinned, holding his hands up from his spot by the computer. “I don’t actually go through these things before we shoot.”

     You giggled, turning back to Ian. 

     “Did you really not know?” He asked you. “I always thought I was kind of obvious.”

     “To everyone but me, I think,” you told him, chuckling. “I was to busy having feelings for you.”

     “And look at us now,” Ian joked, putting his arm around your shoulder. You couldn’t stop smiling. 

     “I just wish I’d had the guts to put you as one of my celebrity crushes,” you told him. 

     “Who would I have beat out?” He asked you. “Austin Butler?”

     “Let’s not get hasty,” you teased. 

     But suddenly you had an idea. You walked over to where Spencer sat. “Hey, Spence? Have you guys done my list yet?”

     “Not yet,” he whispered so Shayne wouldn’t hear him. 

     You turned back to look at Ian, who was watching you like he had finally found you and didn’t want to lose you. 

    “Can you still edit those things? Because I have a last minute adjustment,” you told him, smiling as you showed him a picture of Ian. 

     “Let’s give the fans even more to think about.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you had fun with this one. check out my other ian fics if you want more like this 💋

[maxillness]

Premier Amour || CL16 x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Angst (ish), Google translate French, kitchen sex, blowjob, sub!charles

Wordcount: 0.9k

He was her first love. First real love

He was her everything. He is her everything

She needed to get over him, she just couldn’t. She had tried everything. She deleted him off of her phone, but when the storm came, she kept thinking about him

He kept saying ‘yes’, but then would change it to a ‘maybe’

But he was her first love

Ever since their first kiss, she had been enchanted. Ever since then, she knew he was her first love

She didn’t ever want to spend any days without him by her side, but it was al over in a gust of wind

She needed him back, even if it was just for second. She needed to tell him everything, hoping it would change his mind

That was why she now stood in front of his door to his apartment, debating if she should knock or turn around and go home

Before she could decide, she had knocked on his door twice. She held her breath as she heard rustling from other side

Her eyes shined as she saw him standing in the door way. His hair was fluffy and soft, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. Dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept

“What are you doing here?” He asked. No ‘hi’ or ‘nice to see you again’

“I know you don’t want to talk, and you don’t have to, I just need to tell you something” She almost rambled

He sighed, stepping slightly aside, opening the door wider, allowing her to step in

It was cramped in the hallway, their bodies almost pressing up against each other, just like they once did as they stumbled in late at night

Standing in the hallway, she thought about kissing him, feeling his soft lips against hers once again, but she stopped herself, going to the kitchen instead

“What do you want to tell me?” He sighed, watching as she moved around the kitchen, obviously on edge

“Premier Amour” First Love. She said, looking down into the ground

Confusion was placed on his face “Tu es mon premier amour” You’re my first love. She looked up at him

“et je ne veux jamais passer une journée sans toi” And I don’t ever wanna spend a day without you. She felt good as she got it off her chest

“Amour…” He sighed, taking a step closer to her

“I’m sorry. I should go” She went to walk past him, but he grabbed her wrist stopping her in her path

“Please don’t go” They stood close like this. His breath was grazing her skin on her cheek “Je t’aime”

“Then why’d you leave me?” He let go of her wrist, hand on her cheek instead, cupping her jaw

“Because I was afraid I loved you too much” He leaned in subconsciously, but it wasn’t as close to where their lips was close

“Too much? You can’t love someone too much” She leaned into his touch

It was silent between them. He caressed her cheek bone with his thumb, loving the way her skin felt beneath his own

“You’re so fucking perfect” He leaned in closer, lips almost grazing “can I-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before her lips was on his

They were just as soft as she remembered. His hands now were on her waist, pulling her closer in as her hands went on his jaw

The air left his lungs as she pushed him up against the fridge. Her lips went to his neck as her hands traveled down to the waistband of his jeans

She drew out a whimper from him when she sucked on his skin below his jaw. He held her hips tight, bucking his hips into hers

“Please- amour” He whimpered, feelings her fingers fumbled with his belt

She got on her knees as she got the belt open. His hand went to her hair, pulling it into a make believe ponytail as she pulled his zipper down

She looked up at him as she pulled his pants down, almost drooling at the sight of his hard-on in his boxers

She pulled his boxers down, letting them pool at his ankles with his jeans as well. She grappled his hips, licking small kitten lick on the head of his cock, getting him fully hard

“Fuck” He leaned his head back against the fridge, eyes screwed shut, mouth slightly hanging open, small gasps leaving it

“Just like that, baby” She swirled her tongue around him, knowing he loved the teasing part of sex

Knowing he could come from just teasing, she kept going, swirling her tongue around him and over his slit, loving the moans it drew out from him

“Fuck- amour- please, ‘m close” His thighs had started shaking, knees going week, almost wobbly

“I know, baby, I know” She smirked before giving him a few more swirls before he came into her mouth with a loud moan

She got off of her knees, swallowing his cum before kissing him softly “I defiantly did the wrong thing when I broke up with you” He chuckled as she helped him into his clothes again

“So, we’re together again?” She asked, holding his waist softly as she stood close to him

“Mhm” He nodded “By the way, I know you don’t feel too comfortable with your French, but god does it sound hot” He said, kissing her softly, humming slightly

“Tu le penses, mon amour?” You think so, my love?. She asked, getting a little heavier accent, teasing him

“Mm… You’re gonna get me hard again, ange”

[tarjapearce]

Hi hi! Thank you for letting me go ahead and send it through! I didn’t want to overwhelm you, that’s absolutely fine still take your time and keep taking those breaks mamas!

I’ve seen a lot of single dilf Miguel x reader but I don’t think I’ve ever read where reader was a single parent. So I was thinking reader is new to spider society and on the day she’s told to join she has to bring her baby because she didn’t have a babysitter. Well Miguel sees her and it’s like he’s instantly drawn to her like sunflowers are to the sun, sunflowers move where the sun goes and when the sun doesn’t shine they face each other (She’s kinda like his day and night if that makes sense) but instead of acting on it he dismisses her but kinda admires her and her baby from a distance.

Well one day she’s having a small part for the main group and she invited Miguel because she always felt the feelings but also dismissed them. Then after the party he stays to help and the end up getting closer and yeah. It can be nsfw I don’t mind, I also hope this makes sense it’s been in my mind for a while and you’d be so good for this!

The rest is all up to you if you decide to write it pretty girl. Just remember to take your time and all the breaks you need. Mental, physical, and emotional health is important don’t overwork yourself 💕

Im so sorry this taken me soo long. Hope this make it justice 😊❤️. Thanks for requesting dear.

If it wasn't for the webs that stopped Rhino as he was about to deliver the last blow to you, you'd be certainly gravely injured or worse.

Another Spiderwoman, clad in a red, yellow and black suit had helped you through. Both of your minds in sync, that soon earned you the win over a now unconscious Rhino.

She introduced herself as Jessica Drew. Another Spiderwoman from another universe. At first her explanation of what the Arachnohumanoid-Polymultiverse was, had your head spinning and confused, but after quite a while of visiting you on duty, and clearing up as much questions you needed, you had been officially 'invited' to join, by Miguel’s orders.

You've never met the man, but the way people talked about him, made you not only curious but excited to meet him. Everyone described him as a good yet scary boss.

----

"Let's go"

"Hope you don't mind?" Your nervous smile reached Jess as you packed in your child's stuff in the baby sling. A couple of diapers, extra clothes and bottles.

"Look at this beautiful boy" Jessica held him as you finished packing up stuff, "Didn't know you had one"

"Oh, well. You never asked. Plus we always met on duty. The babysitter I get for him called in sick and I have none as a back up. Hope Miguel doesn't mind."

"What about his dad?"

Your head shook softly and sighed.

"He decided to not be part of our lives."

Jessica just nodded, lips pursing.

"His loss, really. Anyways, ready to go?"

------

Not even in your wildest dreams you'd imagine something as The Babylon Tower or HQ as most Spiders called it, could exist. Different sort of Spiders paraded around and greeted Jess upon her arrival.

Some even greeted your toddler that cooed and giggled upon the many heroes that came his way.

"Let's get you to Miguel." Jess walked ahead and you followed, you baby's eyes wandered, marveling at the different colors and people. You'd sometimes make hamocs and web playgrounds for him to be more active. Your babysitter was the only person you could actually trust your identity, she had even helped you sometimes by calling the cops, or even fixing your suit.

Another man in a pink bathrobe approached and gasped at your baby

"Please tell me we're getting a Spider Parents exclusive division now."

You chuckled and Jess just rolled her eyes

"Sweetie, this is Peter."

"As in Peter Parker?"

"Nah. As in Peter Benjamin 'B' Parker."

"Oh... And whose that cutie over there?" Your eyes trailed to Mayday as she beamed at you.

"Mayday. A lil spider in growth"

"She has spider powers?! Oh my goodness!"

"It's chaos, I know. What about yours?"

"Normal baby so far. Should I be concerned?"

"Not really, it comes in the least unexpected moment and them BAM! Spider baby. "

You giggled as you made your way through the halls to a much more secluded and dark area.

"Miguel?"

Your baby couldn't help but babble as a hulking figure approached from the furthest corner.

"He's so dramatic" Peter whispered and again, you giggled under your mouth.

Jess introduced you both and explained your progress to him. Apparently they had been observing you for quite the time.

" I apologize for bringing my child. My babysitter called in sick."

"No problem."

Even though his voice was calm, the coldness in it made you recoil to yourself. His scrutinizing gaze fixed on you and your baby. By instinct you held him close.

Red eyes settled on yours, but the subtle stare contest was interrupted by the anomaly alarm.

-----

As your time in the Spider Society advanced, your interactions with Miguel improved significantly, and by that it'd mean longer conversations, a joke here and there and of course moments so subtle between you both that you had to be quite analytical to know that he gave glances your way or lean to you slightly whenever speaking to him.

Not that you were inmune to his looks, but his patience stood proudly among his other virtues. And to your surprise he seemed to handle Mayday well enough. What actually made you to be drawn to him is that in one of your many occasions that you couldn't leave your baby boy alone, and brought him into HQ with you, he'd be instantly looking for Miguel.

Your cheeks would flush impossibly red as your baby clung to his leg and erupted in a bubbly laughter.

"God, I'm so so sorry, he just... seem to like the blue alot."

An airy chuckle was everything that escaped his lips. Of course there was so many questions he'd want to do out of curiosity. He had noticed you didn't wear a ring, neither talked about the baby's father. It was something he never seemed to coax out of you. No matter how subtle he was about it.

Pa pa

You both froze as your baby mumbled and grabbed a few strands of his hair.

"I'm so sorry..." You pried the baby away from him and fled the place as soon as you could. He just watched you leave, the inner turmoil in his heart was surely playing dirty. The way the baby had clung to him, and climbed ontop of his chest made his heart to leap after a long long while.

-----

You had been avoiding him, for sure. Ever since your little incident with the baby mumbling his first words, you had taken your distance with him. Of course you weren't ready for your baby's actions, but the fear of going through all that again, had surely dismissed all possible blooming feelings you had for your boss. Besides he seemed way too busy and aloof to try and pursue anything with anyone.

Not that you blamed him, the multiverse depended basically on him. It was for the best.

----

The moment you were falling asleep, your Spider senses tingled so hard you had a little headache coming your way.

Dread settled on your brain as your baby boy screamed and wailed.

No No No!

You were already darting towards his room, and pulled him with one of your webs towards you, holding onto him for dear life as the creature shredded his crib to bits with its elongated talons.

Your eyes went wide at the sudden action, your baby kept wailing in fear, earning the humanoid like creature to snap it's attention to you. You were fast, but the creature was faster and sliced through your flesh in one of your sides. You fell on your back protecting your son from the impact with a groan.

You needed to get out, or at least put your baby out of danger.

Survival mode kicked in as you dodged and took as much damage as you could from the creature that seemed way too keen into hurting your child.

You fought but exhaustion was taking over, the blows of the creature only seemed harder and powerful, but no matter what your priority was to keep your child safe, even if it costed your life.

The creature pounced on you, but the final blow never came. There was a commotion as you tried to get up, all you could hear was inhuman shrieks, growlings and finally the engine of a too familiar motorcycle revving up.

Your baby was pried away from your hands and you whimpered

"N-No!" even in your injured state, your mother instinct kicked in.

Your name was called, several times until you were held against a sturdy yet warm body with such care and tenderness that stilled your thrashing body. Vision blurred, but the last thing you saw the led lights of a blue and red suit, red eyes staring at you with concern.

-----

You woke up in HQ's medical bay. Pain surging through your body as you tried to sit down, Miguel's hand stopped you. Face with his ever permanent frown and something else. Worry.

"Where's... Where's my baby?"

"He's fine. Out of danger." His hands reached for a new set of bandages, he took your arm gently and began replacing the bandages himself, some were stained in a fresh layer of blood.

The silence fell upon you both until he decided to break it.

"You... were brave. We still don't know what that creature was, yet you didn't hesitate to fight back."

"It was going for my son... If I would've got there a second too late..." Voice broke and eyes filled up with tears.

The knot only tightened around his throat upon remembering the anomaly alarm in your world and saw you fighting for your son's life. He didn't think twice before jumping into action.

"The anomaly was terminated."

Terminated, not contained.

"I see"

"Your safety is all that matters to... this organization"

To me

You nodded

"Thanks."

----

He had learned that you were a single parent thanks to Jessica. Something he had trouble understanding sometimes. How could a man abandon his own family? He'd give everything to have one more chance and at least make things right, he wouldn't interfere with Gabriella, no matter how much he'd like to, just to keep her safe and alive.

But seeing you fighting for your son, made that side of him he thought buried forever to claw back full force on him. You were a great mother that wouldn't hesitate to attack and lash out at everything that menaced your son. It was the last straw for him.

----

A couple of months had gone by since your incident, and as a retribution you had decided to do a small gathering. Not only to say thanks to them, but to also celebrate your son's birthday.

Wounds were properly healed thanks to Miguel's attention and cares. Music echoed through your apartment. You weren't sure he'd show up, but the invitation was delivered to him.

Your son was having the time of his life as Peter and Jess played with him. Mayday was such a great play date and everyone seemed to have a great time. A portal was open to your kitchen and Miguel stepped out. Suit underneath civilian clothes. It was weird to see him out of the blue and red suit you were always used to see.

"Hey" You smiled and he placed a little present in your hands.

"Hope he likes it."

"I'm sure he will, thanks."

Your smile turned bashful as he leaned on the kitchen counter. Your place seemed normal, cozy even. Full with your son and you pictures. One was cut out and the only trace of a man existing in your life was the forgotten hand you were oblivious in cutting out. And even so, he seemed unsure since his fingers were barely touching you or your son.

"Here." You offered a plate full of food, which he took and scarfed down.

"When was the last time you actually ate?"

His eyes locked on yours, wide by the sudden question.

"There is more if you want to."

"I don't want to overstep-"

"The rest already had their portion. And I frankly went a bit overboard with it. So it's fine."

Your baby's laughter roared from the other side, earning you a chuckle.

"I'm... sorry though"

"For?"

"Him, calling you that. I know what happened and I'm sure it's not nice to just-"

"Couldn't blame a baby. Is it... ok for me to ask what happened to the father?"

"He just decided that we weren't enough for him. So he went for a new one. Away from us."

His eyebrows knit deeper and a light scowl drew in his face.

"But, it's fine. It's less of a burden knowing that you don't have to raise another man child."

He chuckled and nodded

"You're a great mother." You served him another plate but stopped when the corner of his mouth was doused in sauce. Giggling you reached for napkin and got in your tip toes.

"Excuse me" You wiped his mouth and smiled, "Sorry, can't help it"

His hand went to the back of your nape and leaned down for a kiss.

"Lo siento..." (Im sorry)

It was something that felt out of his character, he knew much, but it couldn't be helped. You had come like a little storm that turned into a hurricane in his heart. And that harrowing night where he saw you fighting with everything you had, only grounded him into allowing himself to feel and experience for once.

You got in your tip toes again and pulled him down for a kiss. There was no words needed, just a look of mutual understanding and complicity between the both. A kiss in the palm of your hand sealed up the implicit deal.

You were his now.

[ribbonprincess]

hi love, please ignore if you don’t like this request! After seeing drew and Liliana I was thinking about nanny/ babysitter x drew in Charleston. I would prefer smut but ignore if your not comfortable with it 💕

note: this has been sitting in my inbox for sooo long,I'm so sorry I just couldn't find inspo for it. Also got lost in it and made it super long. Reader has a tongue piercing

🪐࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

you're sitting with Drew on the patio outside the house,his sister Mackeyla went out with her husband for the day, so she left Liliana with you and Drew. You met through mutual friends that you both don't talk to anymore and since you like babies she asks to babysit Lili sometimes; so now you find yourself next to her brother who you may have a crush on.

"Keyla didn't tell me you were over today ya know, thought it was gonna be only me and Lili" "yeah...I thought the same actually" you chuckle,looking over at him as you eye each other with a knowing smile "she set us up!" It comes out at the same moment making you both laugh as the realization hits "I can't believe her" you shake your head at the thought,using your palm as a headrest. "well,guess we should make the most out of it then" Drew says, eyeing your sundress clad body,it was nothing crazy since you were looking after a 8 months old baby but it had incredibly hot in South Carolina so it was the best option if you didn't want to melt.

"Like what?" your eyebrows are furrowed as you smile softly at him "don't know...I would love getting to know you better,Keyla has said great things about you" "oh- did she? I hope so.." His body is slowly shifting closer to you,making the two-seater swing move slightly. "I like your perfume" he says,running a fingertip over the skin of your forearm "thank you" your answer comes out way breathier than you intend to but the feeling of his touch is way too affecting. His hand is slowly moving over your face,running over your shoulder and the curve of your neck where he stops for a second before he cups your cheek with a gentle smile.

"mind if I kiss you?" he whispers,already leaning in as you nod. His lips find yours as you lay a hand over his chest and the other on his shoulder "you taste like Cherries" he mumbles, grabbing your waist to manoeuvre you on his lap "I like it." Your hands are running all over his figure,over his buzzed head and then back down his biceps before they settle on holding on his neck. "I would love- to take you out on a date before this" he's pulling away from your mouth, making you almost whine before you're immediately shut by his lips finding their way over your neck "but I think I might go crazy if I don't feel you Immediately." His words are making you grin from ear to ear as they travel right down your core.

A pair of rough hands set the moves of your hips over the bulge in his jeans,making you moan as the material rubs just right against your cotton clad pussy. "gotta be quiet doll, we're outside and Lili is sleeping -she could wake up any moment" "shit,yeah yeah...I'll be quiet" you reply,knowing damn well it won't happen. One of Drew's hands moves southwards,running over your thigh before disappearing under your skirt immediately finding your mound. His index finger runs over the wet patch of your underwear before rubbing slow but firm circles over your clit "can I take these off, gorgeous?" His voice is soft,making you melt even more against his chest "hmhm.." "I need words,love" "yeah, please" He quickly presses a kiss to your temple muttering a "good girl" under his breath as he pushes your panties down your legs before pocketing them "gotta keep these for memory."

His words make you almost roll your eyes,but before you can even think about it one of his fingers is passing through your walls "there you go...'s fucking warm,hm" the way he's groaning against your collarbone makes you think he's the one getting pleasured. He quickly pushes another finger in finding a steady rhythm as they curl nicely against that sweet spongy spot. "god,you look gorgeous" He quickly undoes the bows holding the straps of your dress, revealing your chest to him "won't you look at these,fucking beautiful" he mumbles,wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as his fingers continue to move in and out of you deliciously.

"fuck-" your voice is muffled,biting into his neck probably leaving an imprint behind as he adds another finger in making you clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer. "you're making such sweet noises,princess. You're getting there hm? You can let go,I'm right here" His lips move away from your breasts, trailing over your neck before they slot themselves back on yours "you're doing so good,just need you to cum for me sweet girl" His words are sending you down a spiral as you grind into his palm,his thumb rubbing circles over the tiny bundle of nerves as your moans start get more louder "cumming" your body shake over him for a long second before you fall completely still over him "good girl...feel much better huh,gonna clean me up?" he smirks, rubbing his sticky fingers over your bottom lip.

Your tongue rolls out to wrap around the digits,tasting yourself as you clean him off "fuck- what's that? you got a piercing I don't know about?" he raises an eyebrow once he pulls his fingers out of your mouth "well,shit...you gonna show me what you can do with it-" Your figure is already moving off the swing and between his legs before a loud cry from inside reminds you of the baby "well,guess that's gotta wait" you smile,standing up on shaky legs as you enter the house,feeling Drew's eyes bore into your skill.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Accidental Meteor Showers

More summoned!König because I'm obsessed with him. Please help me, I think I'm possessed.

Accidental Meteor Showers

no tws, just Summoner trying to fight König but failing miserably.

You flopped onto your bed with a loud groan. Today hadn’t been the worst, but by no means had it been the best. By this point, nobody was bothering you in the barracks. The higher ups backed off, the other soldiers had settled behind them. Nobody wanted to deal with the wrath of your summon, who incidentally, was the source of your ire today.

Not once had he shown up for you today. Most days, he’d at least conjure a tentacle to slap at whatever was being thrown at you, but today he left you entirely on your own. It was a humiliating experience. If it weren’t for König’s intervention earlier, you’d surely be a laughing stock now, if you weren’t already. The next time you saw him-

A shadow flickered in the corner of your eye.

Son of a bitch.

“You!” you drew yourself up to glare at the offending presence, “where were you today?”

The dark shape stilled.

“I know you’re there. The lights flickered,” you growled.

And from the shadows he came. Once, his agile elegance enthralled you. Today, you were preparing to strangle him.

“Summoner?” König at least had the sense to sound off-kilter.

“Where were you?” you snarled as you crawled to the foot of the bed.

König glanced down at your posture, then back up to your face, “You’re not coming any closer, Summoner.”

“Make me!” you launched off the bed only to be pushed back down by an invisible force.

You thrashed fitfully against the pressure only to be flattened like an indignant child. Your limbs were stretched out as König slowly approached to loom above you.

“I had hoped we would be in a different set of circumstances when I had you like this before me,” he mused as you pulled against your immaterial restraints.

“Shut up!” you yowled, “I’m gonna-fuckin-I’m gonna punch you!”

König blinked slowly, “You are going to punch me?”

“Yeah!”

“And you suspect telling me this will encourage me to let you do as you please?” König sounded far too amused for your liking.

“Well, duh,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m your summoner. You listen to me!”

König walked around the side of the bed until he loomed above you. He leaned in until his hood draped over your face, leaving only his eyes visible to you.

“No.”

You managed to get your head up to smack his forehead, but he seemed unphased. Or rather, you phased right through him before falling back.

“You’re such a dick,” you seethed.

“You haven’t even told me why you are in such a cantankerous mood today,” König scoffed as he casually sat on the edge of the bed beside you.

You slumped back onto the bed with a pout. He was right. He was always right. Why did he have to be a cosmic being with unlimited knowledge and power beyond your understanding? Why couldn’t you have just summoned a stupid imp like you’d planned?

You sighed, “Okay, so, did you get any of my summoning calls today?”

König tilted his head.

“Any of them?”

“Summoner, are you saying I didn’t come to your call?” König seemed to tense up, “we both know that would be a strict violation of the bond we made. Are you suggesting that I am threatening the bond that I graciously offered you?”

You flushed, but pushed on, “Then where were you today? I called you at least five times!”

König seemed confused.

“But you didn’t,” König said slowly, almost as though you were the stupid one here.

“Excuse me!?” you spat, “what do you mean ‘you didn’t’!? I was calling you all day! Where the hell were you?”

König squinted. With a flick of his wrist, you felt the pressure relax and you were able to move again. Without missing a beat, you threw one of your fists at him. He caught it with a simple movement and pulled you into his arms.

“Summoner, I have a proposition for you,” he chuckled as you struggled against his hold, “why don’t you try summoning me here? Call it a test.”

“Why? So you can ignore me again?” you snorted.

“Just try, Summoner,” he pushed you to your feet towards the centre of the room.

You stumbled forth like an awkward duckling before catching yourself on a side table. You took the time to cast a dirty look at him, then walked to the center of the room. You took some chalk from your pocket and drew his symbol on the floor, carefully tracing the design on the hardwood with slow and steady strokes. You sat in the centre of your symbol and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath. The ancient words to summon König flowed freely from you, letting you feel the arcane power surge through your entire being, pulling you further to an enlightened place beyond comprehension. Or, well, you would have if König hadn’t placed a hand over your mouth.

You spluttered and pulled back with a furious look.

“Summoner,” König drawled, “you drew the wrong symbol.”

You blinked. You followed his claw to look down at the ground, but everything seemed perfectly in place. You stared at the ground and then back up at him.

“The third moon is waning, not waxing. And here,” he tapped the centre of the symbol, “you drew the constellations upside down.”

You squinted at the squiggles. Then it clicked.

You gasped, then covered your mouth as humiliation flushed over you.

“You’re right,” you squeaked.

“You’re lucky nothing responded to that summon,” König snorted, “or you would have had your flesh stripped from your bones.”

You paled.

“I jest, Summoner,” König playfully shoved your shoulder, “but in truth, you must be careful when drawing my symbol, lest you dredge up undesirable sorts. If you’d like, I can give you a reference.”

You sighed and hung your head.

“Please,” you held up your hands.

He took your right hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed it briefly, then let it drop to your side.

“There,” König said as you raised your hand to take a look. There, on the back of your hand, was a burned in tattoo of his summon. He’d branded you. You should have been furious, but you couldn’t help but find it so beautiful on your hand. It looked like it had always belonged there.

“Thank you,” you cradled your branded hand to your chest.

“Anytime, Summoner,” König ruffled your hair playfully, “now come, today has been long. You need rest.”

AU Masterlist