#surprise! you guys get more story than I originally planned!

[gtwscratch]

Homeward

Summary: Sometime after Double Life, communications manage to get set up between Hermitcraft and EmpiresSMP. Tango tells himself he’ll apologize to Jimmy as soon as it’s set up (spoiler alert: it takes a while).

Part two of my little Ranchers story! I highly recommend reading part one first to have the full experience :) 

CW: None!

Word count: 1,202 words

[Part 1] [Part 2]

===============================

It’s… been a bit since Tango’s gotten to talk to Jimmy.

He didn’t end up speaking to the half-avian anymore after their permadeath, and since getting back to Hermitcraft, he’s felt a bit guilty about it. Sure, giving Jimmy space (and taking space for himself to cool down, kind of literally) was the right choice, but a part of his brain nags at him that he should have apologized. That he shouldn’t have left them on bad terms. No one knows when they’ll be pulled into the games again. They don’t know who will be pulled. It could be a very long time until Tango can properly talk to Jimmy again and apologize for what happened.

So when Xisuma announces to the server that he and Pix had managed to set up communications between the two servers, it’s safe to say that Tango is more than a little surprised. And when the surprise ebbs into anxiety, he immediately starts making plans to talk to Jimmy.

After thinking it over for a few hours, he grabs his comm and scrolls to Jimmy’s name. Tango is going to apologize. He is going to tell Jimmy how sorry he is, how much the Ranch meant to him—how much it still means to him—how he was never actually upset with Jimmy but with the crappy situation they were forced into.

He’s going to..

To..

Huh.

Tango’s hands aren’t usually this shaky when he holds his communicator.

It’s just.. It’s just because he has a lot to say, right? Yeah, yeah, that’s it. There’s just a lot to apologize for, and he doesn’t want to miss anything. Maybe… he should make a list? Yes! A list. A list will keep him on track.

Tango sets his communicator down and looks for a pen and paper, finding a crumpled scrap and a nearly-out-of-ink marker amongst the mess that is Decked Out 2 planning. He gets to work making a list on what topics he wants to talk about.

1.) He’s sorry for yelling at Jimmy.

2.) The Ranch always meant something.

3.) He never blamed Jimmy for their permadeath.

4.) He wants to start over.

Tango looks long and hard at the list, going over it again and again to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. He picks up his comm again, but.. it still doesn’t feel right. Maybe getting Impulse or Etho to look it over and make sure it’s good will help with his nerves? Once again, another great idea. He hastily grabs the paper and shoves it into his pocket before equipping his elytra and going off to talk to his friends, leaving his communicator behind.

===============================

This goes on for days, and then weeks, and then months. Tango keeps making excuses on why he can’t talk to Jimmy yet, even ignoring any messages that Jimmy’s sent. It’s not at all that he doesn’t want to talk to his rancher friend. He desperately wants to set things right! He’s just.. absolutely terrified that Jimmy will never forgive him and that they’ll never have each other like they did before.

So… yeah. No pressure.

One day, when Tango is about to wrangle the ravagers back into their proper places inside the dungeon, his comm pings. He pulls it out and sees that Grian has sent a message to everyone.

<Grian> Everyone meet at the Rift

<Grian> Something weird is happening

About fifteen-ish minutes later, all of the Hermits are in the cave where the Rift appeared. Tango can’t say he’s been here very often, but even in his short visits, it’s given him the heebie jeebies. Despite Tango’s few and far between visits, even he can tell that the Rift is different. Its regular light purple glow has turned into something much darker, and the usually-calm surface swirls angrily, like a Nether portal but worse.

Grian claps his hands to get everyone’s attention, quieting the Hermits’ chatter down. “Right, so when I woke up this morning and came down here, the Rift was like this.”

Cleo crosses her arms, tilting their head to the side. “And this needed everyone’s attention because…?”

Something flashes in Grian’s eyes, so fast that Tango figures that he’s imagining things. “I think we should go through.”

That receives quite a few mixed reactions, some of the more easygoing (*cough cough* reckless and chaotic *cough cough*) members simply shrug and nod, ready to do whatever. Others are more hesitant, in the middle of big projects and not wanting to leave them unattended for any extended period of time.

“Quick question,” Impulse speaks up from the crowd, “do we have any idea what’s on the other side?”

“Oh, not a clue,” Grian responds with a smile. “I just have a feeling that it’ll be fun.”

“A feeling?” Xisuma questions.

Grian hums his confirmation, his grin only growing. “A feeling.”

After a few long moments, Xisuma sighs. “Alright, anyone who wants to go in can go. I’ll be going to make sure some of you,” he makes a pointed look at Grian who just grins even wider, “don’t get into too much trouble.”

One by one, Hermits start to walk into the portal, a few staying behind. Tango should stay behind. He still has a bunch of work to do on Decked Out 2, but.. a break sounds really nice. He’s long overdue for some relaxation, and maybe once his head is cleared, he can actually message Jimmy to talk about things. Of all of Tango’s procrastinating plans, this one is by far the best one, he thinks. 

He waves to the Hermits who’ve decided to stay behind, and he walks through the portal. It’s a weird sensation, unlike going through a Nether or End portal. It feels like he’s moving through cold honey, and Tango thinks he’s in that space between dimensions for much longer than usual. When he finally exits the portal, he stumbles onto the stone on the other side, being caught by Impulse before he can fall. Tango looks around, a bit surprised to see structures off in the distance. 

Must be another server,  he thinks to himself. To double check, he pulls up the tabs list on his comm to see if there are other people who aren’t Hermits present, and he quickly sees that he was right. With their group's arrival, it seems as if they’ve doubled the player count on this server.

Tango glances over the names, wondering if he’ll recognize any of them and he’s pleasantly surprised to see so many names from the Life Games, looking forward to talking with them without the whole threat of ‘we need to kill each other eventually’ looming above them. And then he sees it.

Towards the bottom of the list, sitting right above his own name, lies the name SolidarityGaming.

Oh.

Oh shit.

They’re on the EmpiresSMP server.

Tango quickly turns around to dart back through the portal, but it’s already closed. And if Grian said it was just active like it was when he went down to check on it, then they have no way to get back to the Hermitcraft server. Which means Tango is stuck here. It means he can’t avoid his dread or Jimmy anymore.

===============================

So, remember when I said this was going to be a two-parter?

What if... I told you guys that while I was writing this, I changed my mind and made it three parts???

Uh.. surprise?

[mehiwilldoitlater]

When you were taken by your original world and sent into some kind of ancient China, full of demons and monsters, you weren't exactly sure why you were supposed to assist the "Destined one." Damn, you didn't even know how this.

When you find out that this destiny one was some kind of successor of Sun Wukong, saying that you were surprised was a joke.

His eyes scrutinized you; they were dark with a tint of gold when the light stricked them. He silently circled you, creating some distance between you, himself, and the other monkeys, curious about the mortals that presented themselves on their mountain.

Every time you tried to keep some distance, he was ready to close it enough to never leave his sight. What a strange situation, and what strange creature was sent to him just at the dawn of his journey.

The stories portrayed Wukong, as the name says, as a monkey kind of guy: cheerful, ready to make some jokes, who liked to make fun of people and laugh. And yet, the destined one was nothing like this trope.

He was composed, serious, and always straight forward. It was like he decided to expel every fun side from him in order to fulfill his duty.

Despite that, he showed more side to you: he was caring, trying to understand your confusion and fear while in a new world, always remembering to keep your peace while walking to make sure that you didn't get lost around. He was your protector, always ready to strike at every danger, and a good friend in the moment of agony.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry for these things, but... I'm sorry, so sorry."

You missed home. You never could believe yourself, but you missed your monothone and unsavory life. You missed waking up, going to walk, listening to endless hours of your boss rumbling—you missed even the crappy food of the cafeteria!

Everything seems so far away, without hope of reaching it. And you felt like trash because he was the one that was there to listen. You felt ashame, ashame of the fact that you were there complaining about what you lost while he was there fighting for both of you. You tried to cover your eyes, holding your breath to calm down, but nothing worked at all.

A stream of tears keeps on crashing down, hiccups escaping your lungs without stop.

Then, you felt his arms—two pairs of strong and soft arms, protecting your now vulnerable state from everything and everyone. His tail followed his gesture, keeping you in place and warm—so warm.

"Please." His high peech voice is now reduced to a whisper. "Don't hold it. Don't hold the pain. I can't see you like this. Please, whatever cloud your heart, speak to me."

Soon, you both became inseparable. You followed him like a shadow, carrying pills and balms, making plans with him for your next move. Damn, even Bajie couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you behind the monkey, a little afraid of the newcomer of the group.

You weren't anymore just some random mortal the Destined one had found and kept at his tail; now you were the Destined done caompanion and trusted friend. His journey became your journey, and his task your task. You both became bound by a silent vow.

"Say...why don't you choose a name? A real one this time."

"I never thought about it." He started to play with a leaf fallen from the nearby tree, thinking about your new idea.

You reached his side, holding his hand in yours, caressing the black claws on it. Once those scared you, now you wonder if a nice manicure could make them look prettier than now.

"Well, you can't let me call you Destined One or Monkey forever! You need a proper name! Something nice! ...umm...how about... Yuánfèn?"

"Um? Since when can you name people here?"

"Well," you continued, "it's destiny in Chinese, no? Like..fate!"

He looked at you, then laughed between his teeth a little. "There's no difference in how they usually call me then!"

"Yes, but...this is how I call you! So is different!"

Soon, you start to not miss home that much. You start to hope to be closer to him—to not go back. You hope that, after your honeymoon, you can stay together and that, despite all, there can be a happy ending for both of you. And silently, in his head, he hoped that too.

"May i?"

He gave you his silent consent, allowing you to caress his cheek with your so small fingers. Your lips met his own, your gesture so timid and gentle that you ask yourself if it's still a small image in your mind instead of something that you're actually doing now. He hasn't moved an inch; confusion starts to come to him and yourself, to the point that you need to stop. Now you just feel ashamed; you felt that you crossed a line, and now you don't even know if you can even go back.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

A small shush from him, his finger holding your chin and guiding you against him. This time, he's trying to mimic your gesture, a blush forming from his face to the visible part of his ears. His kiss is trembling but fierce. He waited long enough to see your still puzzled face.

"I...may don't get how you did it...Can you show me...again, please?"

You don't need to let him ask again; soon your lips smash together again, showing him exactly what's happening.

Your fate is sealed with that kiss, and there's no force on heaven and earth to undo it.

@sun-jglim

[sagesskies]

been reading a lot of qt bl recently, and this idea struck me:

imagine you've just transmigrated into a world where you're the second male lead's best friend, when him and the fl enter a rough patch in their relationship because seriously, that guy flirts with way too many girls despite being in a committed relationship, and this time the fl has had enough and breaks up with him.

the 2nd male lead just has a downward spiral, because he was super dependent on the fl, and you, doing your job as his best friend, give him words of encouragement, as you were instructed by the system. but when he, unexpectedly, asks you to do more than give him advice, and instead help him in the direct process of fixing their relationship, you can't exactly say no when he's asking you so pitifully with tears in his eyes.

so, you help him, concocting schemes to win the fl over, sabotage the 1st male lead, and the like. this is way more than the original best friend did, where he just said some encouraging words and then proceeded to dip out of the plot till the emotional climax where he gets hit by a car and the female lead and 2nd male lead supposedly "make up" and "date again" at least, till the 1st male lead wins her back over.

you're able to actually get closer to him as well, past the shallow mask that all humans don, and get to know him as more than just 'a playboy with unhealthy attachment issues'

you learn that he likes to play the guitar and sing, that he cries when watching romance movies, that his favorite color is purple, that he dreams of making a career out of his music, and that nobody ever believes he can.

but when you place your arm around his shoulder, and look deep into eyes and tell him that you do, you believe in him, you see the way that his eyes widen in surprise, and how tears start to well up in his eyes, but completely miss the way his cheeks start to redden.

you actually miss a lot of things. how he always remembers your coffee order, how he knows the way you like your eggs made, how he remembers your favorite show and movie, and knows your handwriting by how you write your m's.

you also miss how he wraps his arm around your waist, drapes his jacket over you when you get cold, and likes to loop his arms around your shoulders and cling to you like a koala does to a tree.

what you do notice is how he's stopped talking about the female lead as much, how he only asks you how you're doing, invites you out not to plan something but to instead just hang like friends would, and when you bring up how the female lead has started dating the 1st ml he just blinks, and then says "Okay, good for them," like he wasn't bemoaning how close they were only three months ago.

and what you are forced to see is that the only person he's feeling possessive over is you. he's always texting you, asking where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. he's glaring at anybody who even breathes in your direction, and one time your friends told you he threatened them to leave you alone.

slowly, you start to distance yourself from him. you decline his offers to hang out, you avoid him on campus, and have even gone so far as to mute his notifications because he's been sending you so many messages.

the system is alerting you of his unnatural behavior, and you tell it that you're very aware, and trying your best to get the story back on track. but by god, is he making this so hard.

it all comes to a head when you hear pounding at your front door, the sound muffled by the heavy downpour of rain, and when you open it you're, sadly, not surprised to see that it's the 2nd male lead, clothes soaked and sobbing, he's telling you he misses you. that he doesn't know why you're avoiding him, but whatever he did he's sorry for it.

"Just don't ignore me, please [Name]," he whines, "If you do, I might die!"

how will you get yourself out of this mess now?

[talesofesther]

until one of us caves

Rolan x Reader

Summary: After fighting Lorroakan, you decide to stay with Rolan.

A/N: I know that like maybe three people are gonna read this but I couldn't care less. The more I learned about Rolan's story, the bigger of a soft spot I got, and this little thought wouldn't leave my head so I had to write this down. Nothing serious, just something I wish I could do in the game. Also, this story kinda drifted a little from the original plan about halfway through and started writing itself, so don't blame me if the quality is dubious lmao. Requests for him are open I guess, if anyone's interested.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The scent of smoke and ash hung in the air. Stones and mud, remains of the elementals, littered the floor of Ramazith's Tower; as well as a few burned books here and there, smashed furniture, and splatters of blood in the marble. It would take a while to get the place back to the glory it could hold, but you figured it was doable.

The body of its previous master lay lifeless on the floor, spine broken, skin torn. You held no pity for him, only resentment.

From the corner of your eyes, you could spot a twitching tail and clenched fists, staring blankly at the body of his tormentor. He said nothing, merely huffed and walked away before you could think of saying anything, your gaze followed his steps.

The time between when you'd first set foot in Sorcerous Sundries and now had gone by in a haze. You had stopped dead in your tracks then, breath hitching as you caught sight of the countless bruises on Rolan's skin, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness took over you. You'd walked up to him, the words "Who did this to you?" were stumbling past your lips before he even had the chance to utter the practiced greeting. Rolan had evaded the matter, as you'd expected, building ever higher walls around himself. And you'd surprised yourself with how restless the sight of him had made you feel.

"Soldier?" Karlach's hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present, making you quickly turn your head back to her.

You blinked several times until your eyes regained their focus; "yeah?"

She gave you a halfhearted smile and you wondered just how much your turmoil showed on your face. "I was just asking if you're alright, and… where do we go from here." Her voice held kindness to it, as it usually did. More often than not Karlach was, surprisingly, a calming balm in your hectic days.

"Uh-" you hesitated. Perhaps you should already be used to being the one people turned to in search of guidance, leadership. But it was a title you'd never really asked for, was it?

"You guys should go ahead, dispose of him somewhere," you gestured to Lorroakan's lifeless form, "before anyone walks in on… all of this."

Karlach nodded along and then raised a brow at you. "And what of you?" She asked, yet there was a smirk on her lips that alluded to the fact that she already knew the answer.

"I'll hang back." Your cheeks warmed up, "I'll meet you guys at Elfsong later."

"Take your time, soldier," Karlach winked at you, then turned to hurl the dead Wizard's body over her shoulder. "Right let's go people, nothing left to see here."

"And how exactly do you intend to walk around the city with that?" Shadowheart asked exasperatedly, yet followed Karlach to the swirling portal nonetheless.

The tiefling shrugged, holding Lorroakan's body with one arm, "I don't know. If anyone asks we'll just say he's drunk or something."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Oh, I want to see that."

Shadowheart and Astarion added simultaneously, one rolling her eyes and the other smiling brightly.

"Alright then, you think of some excuse for-"

You chuckled at the banter of your companions, their voices growing distant as they disappeared through the portal that would take them back to the bustle of Sorcerous Sundries.

With a deep breath in and a long exhale out, you turned around, gaze slowly roaming over the empty expanse of the luxurious tower; now so quiet, bordering on serene, save for the damage the battle left behind. Until you finally spotted the one you were looking for.

Rolan was tucked away in a shadowy corner, head bowed as he stacked a few fallen books on his hands and then beside each other on the shelves. His movements all stiff and slow, as if the books were much too heavy and it hurt to carry them.

The worry twirling in your stomach threatened to escape as you took careful steps towards him. Yet you still weren't sure how to approach him. The tower suddenly held a nearly intimate air. It was delicate, fragile. The lines between you and him had started to blur, you couldn't pinpoint when, but they did; and now, in the privacy of the high tower, you started to feel the weight of it.

You cleared your throat, but the tiefling didn't turn to look at you, though his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. You wondered if he knew you'd stayed, or perhaps hoped you would.

"Rolan… would you like some help with organizing things a little? At least for the night?" You tried, unsure what else you could possibly say and biting back the urge to tell him that he looked like he needed a good night's rest. He wouldn't admit it, you knew; but the fight had taken a huge toll on his already bruised body. He looked utterly exhausted; shoulders slumped, tail laying limply on the floor, barely holding himself together.

He turned his head to glance at you, an unreadable expression on his face, and lips hovering with uncertainty for a moment. "No, I can manage…" Rolan's voice was quiet, his features softly highlighted by the last fading rays of sunshine coming through the tall windows. You could see the bruises on his cheek, jaw, and nose—some new, some old; darker shades blooming on his reddish skin.

"You can go," he turned away again.

"Are you… sure?" You took half a step forward, fidgeting with your own hands. You didn't feel like leaving him just yet.

"Yes. I'm sure." He finally faced you fully in a quick motion, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "I'm not a helpless child, I can at least take care of organizing this mess by myself, if nothing else."

You closed your eyes momentarily at his words, "That's- that's not what I meant, I know you can-"

"What is it you want then? That I thank you for saving my sorry ass? Again?" His tone held bite to it, anger even, yet you had a feeling that it wasn't directed at you, but at himself. With a huff, he threw aside the one book he still held in his hands, "Okay then, thank you, your heroic attitude of the day has been achieved." He gestured toward you, speaking as if he had been just another thing to check off your list.

The movement of his mouth had pried open a fresh cut he had on his lip. Rolan didn't seem to notice, but the small sliver of blood glinted in the low light. Your heart ached, but not for his words, they were mostly empty. It ached because you saw how much he was hurting. That defeated look lingered in his golden eyes, the same you'd seen at Last Light Inn when he had been incapable of rescuing his siblings. You wished you could tell him he was enough. You wished he would believe you.

You took in a steadying breath, holding onto your composure for both of your sakes. "It's not about being a hero, Rolan, it's about helping the people I care about."

Another scoff fell past his lips, he avoided your eyes, looking distantly out the window beside him; "What are you doing here then?"

You merely raised an eyebrow at him, features soft, allowing him to believe in whatever he wanted to believe.

His throat worked through a heavy gulp when he glanced at you again, tail swishing behind him as he took half a step back. "Sod off," the words came out heavy and unstable, "You came here because Lorroakan was after your Aasimar friend… Your job is done now, you can leave." He stormed past you then, quick steps taking him to the other side of the tower.

With a roll of your eyes, you followed after him, "I came here because I care about you, too." You tried to convey as much sincerity in your words as you could, staring intently at his back as he raised a fallen chair. You caught a glimpse of his tail, coiled tightly around his own leg. You wondered if he even realizes he's doing it, if it's some kind of self-soothing habit he's learned over the years.

His hair had been undone, too, falling freely over his shoulders and looking a tad longer than what you were used to. The look suited him—a touch of softness in his usually sharp appearance—in the back of your mind you promised yourself to tell him that someday.

Several beats of silence went by. With Rolan holding tightly onto the back of the wooden chair. You tended to be annoyingly insistent, the tiefling thought to himself. Ever since the first time he met you, you had a habit of refusing to give up on people. On him. Rolan tried to tell himself it didn't get to him, that the butterflies in his stomach, and the overwhelming relief your mere presence brought him meant absolutely nothing. Because of course, you wouldn't look twice at someone like him, would you?

It was ironically sad that his heart would choose you—the hero, his hero—of all people, to have a soft spot for. He could never measure up, not really, and he knew that; told himself that very fact over and over whenever his mind dared to hope with what-ifs.

"You don't mean that," his voice was small and he berated himself for allowing it to be. He closed his eyes tightly, knuckles growing white with his grip on the chair. "And I was fine," Rolan emphasized the words yet he didn't know anymore if he was trying to convince you or himself.

Silence engulfed the tower again. Deafening silence. One sharp claw tapped the back of the wooden chair, a fast rhythm, following the heartbeat thundering through his veins. With a defeated sigh, Rolan turned to face you. Still, he refused to meet your eyes, focusing instead on the fabric of your glove wrapped around your hand; he could see faint scars on your fingers, wondered how you got them.

"Were you, really?" You asked then, softly, near desperately; waiting with bated breath for him to just look at you.

Rolan was a little difficult to get to, had been since you first met him. Part of you rather enjoyed your harmless bickering every now and then. Behind the witty words, there had always been hidden smiles and bashful eyes, the hopeful glint of being in each other's presence, if briefly.

Alas, you weren't exactly entitled to pry or demand, much as you cared for him it wasn't your place, so you relented; "Tell me you're alright, truly alright, and I'll leave if that's what you want so bad."

Rolan hesitated for a heartbeat, and then two, and three. Any words he might want to say were stuck in his throat, tangled in between feelings that confused the hells out of him. How could he ever tell you that he's not alright? That he hasn't been for a long time?

How could he tell you that he doesn't want you to leave, ever?

There was a distant stinging behind his eyes and he hated himself for it, for being so needy and vulnerable. He hated how his palms were sweaty and his heart threatened to break free of his ribcage with the speed it was beating. He hated how his knees seemed on the brink of collapsing with his weight. He hated how he suddenly felt all the bruises in his body hurting so badly, as if only now he allowed himself to feel the pain they inflicted. He hated-

A soft touch on his lower lip halted Rolan's spiraling thoughts abruptly, and his breath. With the sleeve of your robe, movement as light as a feather, you cleaned a sliver of blood that had escaped the fresh cut there. Rolan shuddered under your touch, for like a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning to death, that was all he could feel.

Pointy teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, holding back what would only be a flood of embarrassment for him if he allowed his pestering emotions to spill. His throat closed up tight, vision growing hazy until you were nothing but a blur in front of him.

There was something about the way you touched him oh so tenderly that got his walls tumbling down as if they were paper under the rain. Your hand lingered, refusing to part from him. Your fingers trailed a hesitant path to his cheek, mapping the bruises underneath- no, mapping his skin, him.

And he could crumble. Rolan felt himself falling, falling, falling.

When was the last time he felt a kind touch? one that didn't hurt or sting or threatened? He couldn't recall.

"I do mean it, I care about you, Rolan." You promised him, and only him. Whispered words dripping with affection.

The front of your boots hit his shoes as you took a final step closer. Rolan brought one hand up, his fingers closing around your wrist with urgency. Yet his hold was gentle, pressing into the veins there and feeling your pulse running beneath his fingertips. He held you there, all but begging you to stay. Words were difficult, complicated, and messy; hopefully his soul could tell you what he couldn't.

With your heart in your mouth, you mumbled; "it's okay. It's over." You're not sure if he heard or felt the words, but Rolan dipped his head forward until his forehead bumped yours.

Suddenly close wasn't close enough. You wanted to kiss away his tears, his bruises, his pain; promise him that everything would be alright now even if your own life was a sea of uncertainty.

"Why?" It fell past his lips. Such a genuine question uttered with such a small voice that it hurt you like a dagger to the heart.

"Why do these things happen to me?" Rolan's voice cracked and stumbled, his eyebrows briefly furrowed in a mix of anger and sorrow. "I-" he breathed in deep and unsteady, bright eyes welling with unshed tears that shone brightly under the soft candlelights on the walls.

You gulped back your own heartache, struggling to keep to yourself how soft he made you feel. You slowly raised your other hand to push fallen strands of hair behind his ear.

"I hoped it had a purpose," he admitted then, quiet as breath. His lower lip quivered before he spoke again, closing his eyes and leaning timidly towards your touch. "That it was a test, and he would- he would eventually stop. That I just needed to endure a while longer."

A choked sob stumbled past his lips and you felt the first of his tears landing on your thumb. Rolan shook his head, a self-deprecating scoff falling past his lips; "that I deserved it."

"Stop," you said before you could think, finally taking your hand away from his cheek, only to bury it into his hair instead. With the encouragement you knew he needed, you pulled him to you.

Rolan fell forward with no restraints, no hesitations, only a weary soul looking for solace. He buried his head between your neck and shoulder, both arms coming around your waist and squeezing tightly, to the point of his claws nearly ripping your robe.

You held him back with the same desperation, one hand tangling in between his hair and cradling his head to you. Your lips brushed the nape of his neck in a silent confession of adoration.

The fabric of your robe grew damp as silent tears fell past Rolan's defenses, his body shaking in your hold, releasing months if not years of bottled-up emotions.

With a kiss to his warm skin, embers of the fire he ignited in your heart broke free; "You could never deserve what he did to you. You're so very special, Rolan. To Cal, To Lia…" You told him, slow and tender, twirling strands of his hair between your fingers, and a small smile stretched your lips when you felt him relaxing against you. "… To me." It was nothing but a whisper, blown into the wind only for him to hear.

Rolan's breath stumbled, you felt it in the way he gripped you tighter—if that was even possible—and heard it in the soft gasp beside your ear.

"Please don't-" His voice broke in the middle, all husky and wobbly from his tears. "Don't say… that. If you don't mean-" he hesitated, fresh tears cascading freely down his cheeks, beyond any foolish attempt to be held back; they dripped down the bridge of his nose and soaked the fabric of your robe, making him curl into you all the more to hide his embarrassment from the outside world.

"Please," it was so quiet as he pleaded. For what, he wasn't entirely sure anymore. Maybe he just knew he couldn't take losing anything else.

You pulled back and Rolan felt his heart stumbling and cracking in his chest. But you were quick to mend it back together, with both hands coming up to hold his cheeks again, your thumbs brushing away the wetness there, near reverently.

"I promise," you whispered, gaze drifting ever so slightly downward before focusing back on his bright eyes. You were bold enough to lean in until the tip of your nose touched his, and as you did so you felt something coiling around your leg. You smiled; "I promise."

Rolan gulped, his mouth parting as he barely held himself back from closing the gap between you. Goosebumps littered his whole body when his upper lip accidentally brushed yours.

He pulled away but refused to loosen his grip on your waist. "I don't want you to leave," he said it so quietly, offering you his bleeding heart with a shaking hand.

Gentle fingers brushed away the messy strands of hair clinging to his forehead. When Rolan looked up, there was a loving smile on your lips, it was the first time he saw it and he already knew he'd kill to see it again.

You leaned closer, and with a kiss between his brows, you said; "then I'll stay."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Rolan’s taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us

[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.

[thetxtdevil]

Attention Princess

Beomgyu x Reader

summary: Pretty princess Beomgyu didn't get enough attention from you during your outing. You find a way to make up for it.

content: smut, jealous bf beomgyu, soft.dom but mostly switch(?) gf reader, marking, blowjob, handholding, cum eating, strip tease, grinding, riding, no protection...

word count: 1.2k

Original story: Jealous

What can you do when your pretty princess of a boyfriend gives you the silent treatment. Beomgyu has been sulking ever since you guys came home from dinner with the boys. He rushes home, straight to a shower to let some steam off. After dressing into loose comfy sweats, he plans to pout on the couch for the rest of the night. Lips in a plush scowl paired with big puppy eyes you couldn't help yourself but to snuggle close to the man. You flop on the cushions next to him pinching his cheeks, the man flinches and then buries his head into your neck as you hold him close.

You brushed his long brown hair keeping the comfortable silence. Any interrogations you give him might put Beomgyu in more of an attitude. Beomgyu somehow squishes his face further into your neck with his hands tightening around your waist, he starts to peck your neck. Your relaxing state quickly vanished when you felt gyu's wet tongue licking a strip on your throat. Gyu was relishing your whimpers of his name, he needed this, he need you.

"Gyu you're going to leave bruises" you whine.

He growls a "I know" continuing leaving hickeys all over your neck trailing down to your low-cut top "this is my way to remind you that you're mine."

Tilting your head up, squirming at the good feelings of his soft lips on your tits. You let him continue to destroy your nuetral skin tone into bold purple and red colors, all while trying to think of what happened to get him like this. During that night's dinner you were making sure to be friendly with the group of men so that they didn't have to feel uncomfortable with Beomgyu's girlfriend being around. You would laugh extra hard matching Kai's laugh, complimented Yeonjun's outfit he chose for the occasion, had a small intellectual conversations with Taehyun. Maybe you were being too friendly you didn't give your boyfriend the attention he needed.

"Beomgyu let go" you say in a serious manner. Gyu lifts his head furrowing his eyebrows making his brown eyes dark, the look was frightening "trust me."

You grab his hands that were glued to your breasts taking them off. Lifting yourself and positioning the man underneath your body. You give the sweet man a rough kiss,

"I'm sorry sweetie, did i not give you enough attention?" Beomgyu squeaks as an answer "Can i make it up to you?"

Beomgyu shyly nods, watching you crawl down towards his lower half. His lips curled into a smirk looking at the purple marks already forming on your neck. You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his pants, tugging the garment down letting Beomgyu's thick cock fling out. Looking back at your boyfriend you smile at his dark gaze.

Your hand was small compared to the man's girth, but it flawlessly wrapped around the dick and started pumping the erection. Pretty pearls of pre-cum start to form perfect to lubricate with. Kissing up his thick shaft, "My prince is so handsome" you kiss his tip, "how could I ever leave when you're all mine."

Beomgyu's head falls back into the couch pillow when you wrap your pretty lips around his mushroom tip. Bobbing you head, hollowed mouth, you reach your hand to one of his to hold. Beomgyu quickly accepts you grasp, holding it close to his chest. Intertwining his fingers with yours squeezing them every time you lick a sensitive spot on his shaft. He whines in pleasure, "yes love, YES" as he instinctively bucking his hips up into your throat making you gag. Big brown eyes open in surprise usually you hold him down stopping him from doing anything other than letting you suck him off. But here you were spoiling the prince by fucking your mouth until his cum shoots in the back of you throat.

With a pop of his dick, sucking off any remains of his seed, you crawl back to the man lips letting him taste himself. Beomgyu groans at the taste of you mixed with him. Big hands find their way grouping your ass. "Take that shit off will ya?" he commands.

Taking your time, teasingly stripping off every garment that covered you. He watches you bring your shirt over your head showing off your braless figure. His hands move towards to touch only for you to stop him and shake your head making the same pout from earlier comes back. You slide your leggings off, Beomgyu squirms in his spot looking at the thin lacy panties teased the sight of your cunt. Your dainty fingers circle the sides of the material pulling them down clearly showing the lace sticking to your folds. All Beomgyu could do was to lick his lips in hunger, all he wanted to do is to touch every part of you.

You smirk at his dark orbs eating you up. Your legs settle on the sides of his hips, your wetness grazing his abdomen. Gyu's warm smile reflects yours as you brush his long brown hair with your fingers. You move your hips against his lower belly spreading your juices on him while you kiss and leave your own marks on the man's neck. Gyu's big hands guide your hips slightly pushing you closer to his dick.

Bringing your hips up lining his pink tip to your entrance. Already you whine at the stretch of your hole leaving you burning. "You can do it" Beomgyu encourages you as he finds your contorting face entertaining, he bottoms out leaving you to relax your tightness around him. Beomgyu focuses on your scrunched up face, rubbing and gripping the flesh of your thighs. He coos at you seeing you lighten up you fall on his chest moaning in his ear. "Fuck Beomgyu"

He smiles to himself starting to guide your hips. The more you grind on his fat dick the more you melt into him. Biting his shoulder close to breaking his skin. He lifts hips slamming into you making you bounce uncontrollably, "Gyu- you feel so good" you whine as you mark his neck. Satisfaction filled the man getting the love, care, and attention he wanted, he deserved.

With all your strength you pick your self up holding onto Beomgyu's shoulders. You try to look at him but your vision was blurry with tears. "You're handsome, an unbelievably good boyfriend" you say in between kisses, "and god do you feel good." Picking up the pace you were crying on his dick, clenching so hard around him you could feel his dick twitch inside. Gyu's thumb finds their way to your swollen bundle of nerves making you gasp for air.

"Ugh- g-gyu I'm going to.." Overstimulated by every sensation from the fiery stretch, the electricity in your core, in contrast with the softness of his lips on yours and skin under your palms. Your orgasm flushes through you combining with the soaked mess you left on the man. Glancing at the cocky man before you, you give a nod for him to keep pounding into you until he came undone.

Both sweaty and exhausted, Beomgyu shimmies in his spot on the couch making you both lay down. Your hands brush his hair soothing him to sleep. "You know you're an attention whore?" The statement left you two giggling.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

read more from: Jealousy/Envy TXT Masterlist

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @f4iryfever

[meanbossart]

After all we've seen of DU Drow, I'm wondering who their guardian is? Have you drawn them before?

HUH, I'm kind of surprised I hadn't gotten this question yet but, to be fair, I hadn't thought much about it myself so that makes sense.

It's this lady. I have no idea who she is. I went into the campaign without any plans whatsoever for DU drow and blind as a bat, so when the game asked me to make a guardian I just went "???? uuhmmm well. Okay, he's a drow who doesn't like other drows, and drow mothers probably suck, so - Strong human woman that's supposed to be a sanctified maternal stand-in it is."

At this point I don't know what her significance in his story is, the original idea KINDA holds up if you squint but it's more of a passing opinion than a pillar of his character. I've since pivoted to believing that the Emperor just kind of gave up after a while of work-shopping who to disguise as, because this guy showed no indications of liking or trusting anyone prior to getting wormed, so he just went "fuck it, Joan of Arc look-alike and pray."

Not to say "she" isn't important. She clearly resonated with DU drow since he trusted her word so completely and felt DEEPLY betrayed by the later reveal, I just couldn't tell you exactly why. Also I have no desire to change her design to "fit" in better with his story - I couldn't imagine anyone else in her place, to be honest.

[coralinnii]

I love the villain scorned by the world feat: Azul genre: drama note: continuation of reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Azul ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, use of non-canon characters (Neveah), 1.4k word count

I know people wanted to see more of the female and male lead’s downfall but Azul’s story has so much potential for drama that I just can’t skip it. This is more of an interaction between villain/ess!reader and the female lead and things are getting interesting. There’s more to the story

Is it funny that the more I write Azul’s villain/ess!reader, the more they’re starting to be like how I think Jade would act…just sassier

You became the talk of the kingdom for quite some time and you weren’t surprised. You had your engagement annulled and disowned from your family but you managed to disgrace your former fiancé the prince and his lover with their affair. Instead of a fallen noble, you became a surviving noble who became a victim of unfaithful love. All according to your plan.

Free from your downfall, you find yourself living in comfort in your own house close to Azul. The royal family and your own parents have requested your attendance but you declined their letters, playing your victim card to the fullest.

“Oh no, how could I possibly return back to the palace where I had my heart broken?” “My family disowned me. The least I could do is respect their wishes” Good riddance to that stifling environment.

You did notice that you never once received a letter from the young prince, the male lead though you would scoff and burn it if he did anyway. You figured that he was too prideful to address the affair with you. He wasn’t regretful for his actions nor was he regretful he got caught. The original series seriously had a bad cast.

Though it could also be that since the disgraceful act the male lead was sentenced to house arrest to “reflect on his actions”. From your sources, he’s just been angry all this time, especially when he hasn’t been able to meet with his beloved.

Speaking of which, the female lead has been busy through all this fiasco. Crying and spinning the tale of how she was a helpless victim in this mess as well, saying how she was clueless throughout everything since being so new to the noble society.

Please, Jade has better acting skills than she does. You supposed you could commend her for her guts.

Like how she was gutsy enough to visit you in your own home.

“I’m so glad you’re willing to meet with me” Neveah smiled but you didn’t return the smile, choosing to sip your tea.

“You should be glad, considering I probably would have ignored you” you replied indifferently. “It just so happens that I wanted to ask you a few questions”

“Oh? What kind of questions?~” That exaggerated childlike tone of hers really rubbed you the wrong way.

Fighting through your irritation, you questioned her “I’ve heard that you’ve been attempting to meet with Azul for the past few days. Curious since you two aren’t even acquaintances”

“But, we are! Me and Azul are really close~”

“That’s not what Azul says, and you will address him as Count Ashengrotto” you rebuked her claim, a little snippier than you wished but your patience is not unlimited and the ditzy lady is truly testing you.

Azul mentioned his troubles to you when you asked about the visible stress on his face. Apparently he has unfortunately been bumping into the female lead at his businesses and she has been trying to interact with him, even offering to have tea with her…in his own restaurant.

“Tricking her would be akin to taking candy from a child, but even a child is more worthwhile than speaking with her” Azul sighed in aggravation with his brows furrowed. You kept a sympathetic expression but you felt a sense of joy over the silvernette’s words. There’s nothing wrong in secretly taking glee in your crush sharing your disdain over the same irritance, right?

“Perhaps you should take a short rest, Azul” you suggested, “This stress will do you no good and you can’t afford to make mistakes due to your clouded mind”

Azul sighed but nodded “you may have a point”

“Would you like to rest on my lap? I wouldn’t mind after all”

“You-!”

Refocusing your attention away from your memories, you sharpened your gaze at your uninvited guest. “Considering Azul is someone dear to me, I worry about your intentions in approaching him”

Then, the situation took an interesting turn.

The young lady in front of you, undeterred from your stare, smiled brightly which some could compare to something angelic…to some. But her words did not match her innocent appearance.

“Are you worried that I would approach Azul the way you did?”

You didn’t break your expression but you must admit you were close to. Is she insinuating…

“Isn’t it weird that the famously lovesick fiancé of the prince suddenly changed?” Neveah questioned, putting on a confused pout on her lips. “No explanations, like a whole new person. The story has changed”

Oh, how interesting.

“So you’re interested in me” you finally smiled back “What can I say, I realized one day this was not my love story so I decided to change my ways”

“Is that so?~”

“Yes. But back to the topic,” you took control back of the conversation “You haven’t explained your reason for approaching the count?”

Whatever calculating look you thought you saw in the female lead disappeared as she smiled even brighter than before, fully committing to her innocent appearance.

“I just felt so bad in interfering with your engagement that I’ve been avoiding the prince in respect for you, not even replying to his letters. Then maybe you can reinstate your engagement with your beloved”

My beloved? You truly had difficulty not outright laughing out loud over that idea. But it was an interesting tidbit the female lead gave, knowing that the prince has been sending her letters meant that those two are still in contact. Just because she said she doesn’t reply, she could still be reading them.

“I’ve been trying really hard to forget the prince so I’ve been visiting the Monstro Lounge to get away” she continued her story, managing a tear from her eyes. “And I’ve been seeing the count there so I thought we could be friends”

So this is how she’s been fooling the masses. You’re willing to admit that she’s definitely a better actress than you initially give her with her sweet words and unassuming “innocence”. But you knew the story she conveniently left out.

Breaking the engagement between the royal family and your (ex)family of duke status, the male lead has been in hot water ever since as his reputation has affected him to the point that his right to the throne is in jeopardy. Azul on the other hand has been making a name for himself and his value in the kingdom is very attractive to many pursuers.

“How shamelessly greedy of you, Ms. Protagonist” you smirked at the female lead who continues to put on a sweet facade, you commend her ambitions at least. She really wants her happy ending.

But you’re done with this conversation already. You got your answers and have no interest in keeping company with this eyesore for any longer.

“That’s all I need to hear, I believe it’s time for you to leave” With that, you waved to your guards who were standing by to escort the lady to the door.

“Wait, then will you take the prince back? And convince the families to restore the engagement” Neveah quickly asked you before she was ushered. Ah, so that’s why she came to see you. You never did bother to ask…or care.

“Firstly, I don’t have the habit of picking up trash I already tossed out” you calmly stood up from your seat, smoothing down your clothes of creases, and gave a smile towards the female lead before speaking again “Secondly, I’m simply respecting what you said to me. Do you remember? You couldn’t stop from loving who you want”

You watched Neveah stutter and stumble, trying to find the right words but you weren’t interested anymore so you proceeded to leave the room first with some parting words before your guards walk the female lead out of your home.

“I’m letting you love the prince like you said you wanted, and I’ll love who I want, and I intend to fight”

[kingofpopmj]

Girl, I Can Thrill You More Than Any Ghoul Would Ever Dare Try

Summary: A beautiful backup dancer catches Michael’s eye during the filming of Thriller. Being friends seemed like a good idea until masking feelings becomes too difficult.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader!

Warning: FRIENDSHIP, JEALOUSY, TWO CLUELESS IDIOTS IN LOVE

Requested: yes

All the dancers were gathered outside of a tall building. They each had matching ID’s hanging around their necks. A mixture of excitement and anticipation filled the air.

“Hello, everyone! Can I get your attention please.” A tall man with brown hair and thick beard waved his hand in the air. “Thank you all for being here early, I’m John Landis, the director of this lovely project. Today, we’re technically still rehearsing, but I need you to give it your all. Dance like each run through is the finale.” Everyone cheered and applauded his announcement. “That’s what I like to hear! Let’s get in there and make history!”

Once inside, everyone changed into their dance shoes and took a few minutes to introduce themselves to one another.

When Michael arrived it was twenty minutes before the scheduled start time and to everyone’s surprise he immediately went around greeting each individual.

“Hi, what’s your name?” He asked with a grin on his face. “I’m Michael.” His hand extending.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s so great to meet you. I’m Michael— wait I already said that. Didn’t I?” He chuckled nervously as his face turned a deep red. “How are you? How was the drive over? Did you travel from far away? Where are you from originally? When did you start dancing?” He shot out every single thing he was thinking by accident. And, it was only then that he realized he was still holding her hand.

“I’m good. Thank you for asking.” She laughed, giving herself a moment to remember all of his questions. “The drive over wasn’t too bad. I’m from—”

“Michael!” John jogged over, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Come on kid. We should get started.” John smiled before looking to see what had the young man’s attention. “You’ll have time to make friends later. Sorry doll, I gotta steal him from you.”

“No problem.” She smiled, looking at Michael then down at their connected hands. “I should probably…”

“Oh, right!” He snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, you probably need your hand. I mean don’t we all. Wait— that— did that— I don’t mean I need your hand. I meant you need your hand. It’s a nice hand— very nice.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was sweet and even her laugh was comforting. Michael could tell that even though he was making a fool of himself, she wasn’t laughing at him. He couldn’t stop looking at her, his feet were planted and the only thing that got him away from her was John dragging him in the opposite direction.

“You’re really one with the ladies Jackson.” John teased.

“Shut up. That was humiliating.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“You always enjoy when I make an ass out of myself, you schmuck.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you to go talk up the pretty lady without a game plan.”

“I wasn’t trying to talk her up.”

“Good because you did a shit job.”

“I hate you.” Michael pinched John’s arm.

“Relax kid. I’ll give you some pointers later, but for now we gotta get to work.”

Michael nodded, the embarrassment still lingered in the back of his mind. He caught himself more than once watching her movements through the mirrors. He hoped no one else could see what he was doing, but he decided that if they did he’d own it. He wouldn’t feel ashamed of admiring a beautiful woman. He studied how she used every part of her body to tell the story— he was so lost in her hips that he didn’t realize three hours came and went.

“Alright, you guys are looking great! I think we’ve reached a great ending point for our first day. However, I do have one tiny suggestion, I think Michael would agree with me on this, we need you.” John smiled, pointing at her, she stepped forward confidently. “Yes, you. You’d be perfect right here.” He guided her to stand beside Michael and sent the male dancer to her old spot. “That’s what you wanted, right Michael?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s definitely more balanced. I like that very much.” He nodded at her, chuckling when she waved back. “Nice to see you again.” He whispered.

“Very nice.” She agreed, tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“Alright, see you all bright and early tomorrow. Rest up well my lovely zombies!” Everyone laughed, dispersing to collect their belongings.

John gave his young friend a very obnoxious thumbs up and made a motion with his hands, encouraging him to keep the conversation going.

“You’re a really good dancer.” Michael faced her, tilting his head as his eyes wandered her figure.

“Thank you. You aren’t bad yourself. Seriously, the choreography is no joke. It looks awesome. I can’t wait to see it once we’re on in costumes and makeup.”

“Well, honestly, I think it’s you that makes it look awesome.”

“Thank you…” She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. He was being so sweet and she didn’t know how to respond.

“I never got the chance to ask…” He reached out, his hand resting on her arm as he guided them over to a secluded corner. “Where are you from?”

She laughed at how secretive he was being over such a normal question. She offered the name of her hometown and a bit of a back story about how she ended up in Los Angeles. He hung on every word like he was going to be quizzed later.

“How about you? Do you like living here?” She asked, leaning against the wall and opening her water bottle. She was so calm. She treated him like a person and it felt good.

“I enjoy it. My entire family is here now too, so that helps. I don’t like feeling isolated.”

“Oh, you’re one of the lucky ones. I wish my family were closer, but we make it work.”

“Do you have friends here?” He perked up, hoping he could be added to that list.

“Um… yes, a few. Mostly people I’ve met along the way. I make sure to keep a busy schedule, with work and school, so I never feel too lonely.”

“Well, I can— we can be friends.” The sweetness laced in his words made her heart flutter.

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.” They shared a moment of silence, softly giggling as they looked at each other.

“Michael!” John shouted, waving him over.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No worries, duty calls.”

Michael approached John with the biggest smile on his face. He avoided his friend’s inquisitive gaze, unzipping his jacket before shrugging it off.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me how it went?” He stared at his young friend, squinting his eyes as if to try to comprehend how he wasn’t uncontrollably gushing over the girl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michael dodged the question, suddenly having all the patience in the world as he tossed his jacket on a nearby table.

“Spill. What did you two talk about?”

“Nothing really. You called me away before I could get anywhere.”

“Oh, where are you trying to go with her lover boy?” John laughed, his hand smacking against his thigh as he teased him.

“Shut up.” Michael covered his face, failing to hide his embarrassment. “Please, don’t laugh at me.” His tone was sad which made the director frown— he hated how quickly Michael’s body language changed.

“Walk with her.” John stated. His tone was steady now and he wanted nothing more than to give his friend the confidence the world was slowly stripping from him. “And, for the record, I’d never laugh at you.” He knew how sensitive Michael could be, especially when he thought he was being made fun of. He never wanted to make him feel that way, so he did his best to reassure him.

“Alright. What do you mean walk with her?”

“Lover boy, walk her to her car. You know, it’s dark out, chivalry will get you a long way.” He pointed at him clicking his tongue to further sell his point.

“Oh, I see.”

“Go on. You got this.”

“Wait! What should I say to her? I don’t think— I’m not sure how— John, what if she doesn’t like me?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. Kid, you gotta stop selling yourself short. She was clearly enjoying talking to you, so you’ve got nothing to stress over. Honestly, I think she’s into you. Just keep being yourself.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll give it a try. I think—”

“No, no, don’t think. You gotta get out of your head and stop doubting yourself. She’ll love you, just be you— everything else will flow on its own. Now, go. Hurry, she’s about to leave.”

Michael shook his head vigorously, grabbing his jacket and sprinting over to the door she was about to push open.

“Y/N!” She looked back, smiling when she saw it was Michael. He stopped a few steps away from her.

“Hi, friend.” She grinned at him, adjusting the bag that hung off her shoulder.

“I’d like to walk you to your car, is that okay?” He waited patiently for her response. She was overwhelmed with his tenderness.

“It’s more than okay, but if you have other things to do, it’s okay.”

“I’d really like to accompany you. Really.”

“Such a gentleman.” She reached for the door, but he jumped in front of her.

“Allow me.” He held the door open for her and it made her entire face heat up. Their bodies brushed against one another as she walked out to the hall. “Here. I’ll take this for you.” He didn’t wait for her response this time. He just slid the strap of her bag off her shoulder and onto his.

“Thank you. You’re so sweet.” She took a small step towards him, her hand landing on his bicep and her fingers curling around it slowly. “Is this okay?” She questioned.

“Oh yes.” He answered quickly, growing more flustered by her touch than he thought he would.

John watched the interaction discreetly from afar with a proud expression on his face. “My boy.” He whispered to himself, the door shut and he couldn’t hear them anymore, but seeing it was enough. They gawked at each other a little longer before walking off and that’s when he gently fist pumped into the air.

“So, what kind of things do you like doing in your free time?” Michael spoke confidently.

“I like baking—”

“I’d love to try your baking!” He interrupted her enthusiastically. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

“Hm… if I have to choose it’d be cheesecake or cookies.”

“If you’re up for it maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”

“That would be really fun. You’d look good in an apron.”

“You’d look better.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out soon, huh?”

“I was getting there. I was just working up the courage.”

“Alright.” She stopped walking and faced him. An arch in her eyebrow as she looked back at him, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. “Ask me.”

“Would you like to hang out with me sometime?”

“Hang out sometime?” She repeated, trying to hide her disappointment as his phrasing.

“Yeah, that’s what friends do right?” Michael smiled, silently kicking himself at the use of friends. He definitely doesn’t want to be friends— he wants more.

“Yeah, yeah. They do.” She crossed her arms and tried to keep her voice steady. She felt like an idiot for thinking he would ask her on a date.

“Well, would you?”

“I’d love to. When are you free?”

“For you, any day.” He was turning up his flirting again and although she was loving it— it was also very confusing. Was he asking her out or not?

“Is Saturday good for you? I’ve got a busy week with school and work. Unless…” she decided to test the waters again— one last time. “We’re all going out to dinner on Friday. The cast party thing.” She crossed her fingers hoping the curly haired dancer would say the right thing.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that. Well, I’d like to spend time with you. The two of us. I’d like to get to know you better.”

“You’re a real smooth talker.” She liked his answer. It wasn’t as up front as she’d like, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I try.” He shrugged. “At least I get to see you during rehearsals this week. I have you for three hours everyday.”

“Lucky you.”

“I get to see a beautiful face like yours. I’m more than lucky.”

“Mr. Jackson, you’re making me blush.” She tried to cover her face with her hand, but he stopped her.

“Wow. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.” His eyes scanned her face. He wasn’t staring at her, he was admiring her and it made her feel more self conscious than she was proud to admit.

“So, what do you like to do?” She turned on her heels and started walking again.

“I love movie nights. I have this giant projector screen and I make popcorn. It’s a nice little escape from reality.”

“I’d love to have a movie night with you.” She propositioned, feeling bold under the dark blue night sky.

“Friday it is, after the cast dinner. Movie starts at eight, sound good?”

“It sounds great.”

“I’m so excited.” He murmured honestly.

“Here.” She let his arm go briefly, leaning towards him to dig into her bag. A piece of paper and pen in hand as she began scribbling. “Um… this is my address and phone number.” She gently placed it in his palm.

“It’s a date.” He clapped his hands triumphantly before he processed his words. “Not a date— I didn’t mean we— date— or if you want— we can— the funny thing about dating—”

“Michael…” His stomach did a flip when he felt her hand move against his. “We can be friends hanging out or if we both— if we like each other this can be a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay.” His smile helped her let out the breath she was holding in. It didn’t occur to either of them that they’d failed to label what Friday night would be because they were to wrapped up in each other. He closed his hand around hers and tried to hold back, but he couldn’t resist. He dipped his head and kissed the top of her hand.

The rest of the week went by painfully slow. Y/N found herself begging for the clock to read the right numbers. She couldn’t wait to see Michael. They didn’t get much time together alone, but somehow she felt closer to him with each day that passed. He waited for her and made a habit of walking her to her car every night. They’d fallen into a routine which had become her favorite time of the day, his too. She put up a playful fight, but deep down she loved hearing the silly excuses he came up with. For example, he claimed to have seen rabid squirrels around and wanted to keep her safe. That one was her favorite.

“Why don’t you ride with me? I’ve got more than enough space.”

“My car is here though. I don’t want you to have to bring me back—”

“Y/N, I don’t mind. Please, I insist.” He looked so happy, so full of hope. “I haven’t got to spend much time with you this week.”

“How could I say no to that smile?” The glow of the streetlights brought a level of calmness that she appreciated. Her stomach was full of butterflies being so close to him— being alone with him.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful.” He stepped closer, his hand found her hip. His touch was sweet and comforting, giving her enough time to move away from him, but she didn’t. She stood before him with wide eyes, leaning into him, all insecurity pushed to the back of her mind.

“So are you.” She whispered, looking deep into his big brown eyes. Their chests pressing against one another as his hand traveled up to cup her face. They were so close and if it weren’t for the bright headlights startling them, they would’ve melted into one another, but instead the space between them grew— he jumped away from her. He scrambled away from her at lightning speed, leaving her to feel not only rejection, but shame.

“We should probably get going.” Michael coughed, running his fingers through his hair as the vehicle that interrupted them drove by, blasting loud music.

“Yeah, they’re probably waiting for us.” She didn’t look at him, quickly getting into the car and putting the seatbelt on. She focused her gaze out the window as they sped through the city to their destination.

Michael nervously fidgeted the entire drive, he wanted to reach out to her, say something, but he couldn’t. She wouldn’t even look at him.

When the car stopped in front of the restaurant, she jumped out of the car and basically sprinted to the entrance.

“Wait up!” Michael yelled after her, she turned to face him. “Wait!”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” Her voice sounded so delicate it made him feel an overwhelming ache in his chest.

“What? No. Of course not.” He tried to reassure her as they stood in front of the doors.

“Are you sure? It seems—” she was cut off by Michael turning his back to her suddenly at the sound of footsteps. She felt the humiliation set in as she studied the back of his head. She didn’t need to say anything else— she had her answer.

She didn’t even blame him, he was— he’s who he is and she’s just a back up dancer.

When he turned back around she was gone. He was certain he ruined things before they could even begin. It’s exactly what he was afraid of. He’s an expert at destroying anything good in his life.

The energy shifted entirely once inside the restaurant, Y/N didn’t look back. She hugged her coworkers taking a seat at the long table.

“How did you get here? Your car was still in the lot when I left.”

“Michael gave me a ride.” She shrugged, crossing her legs as her friends closed in on her with big grins on their faces.

“Oh, getting in good with the boss man, are we?” They laughed, a few of them throwing balled up candy wrappers at her.

“Shush. You guys are ridiculous.”

“Well, he didn’t offer me a ride. Did he offer anyone else a ride in his horse drawn carriage?” A chorus of ‘no’s’ followed as the teasing continued.

“It’s because he’s not trying to wine and dine you, only our little twinkle toes here. He’s totally got it bad for her. Remember yesterday when she tripped and he all about lost it calling for medics— she didn’t even need a bandaid.”

“Stop.”

“Yeah, he’s got a soft spot for this one.”

“No he doesn’t. He’s just being nice. He’s nice to all of us.”

“Yeah, he’s nice but for you, he’s extra nice.”

“He’s nice to all of us, true, but he doesn’t give us all fuck me eyes.”

“Oh my god!” Y/N was horrified, burying her face in her hands.

“It’s true.”

“Please stop talking before someone hears you.”

“Oh, come on! He looks at you like he rather see you dancing on a pole.” One of the guys jumped up requesting high fives as he held his hand up.

“That was a good one!”

“He’s trying to get into your bloomers.”

“You guys stop.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head at the unnecessary attention.

“He doesn’t walk me to my car! Boy, wouldn’t even notice if I got run over. He’s too focused on you.”

“You’re all very mentally flawed individuals.” Y/N flipped them off and they all returned the sentiment.

“Woah, what did we miss?” John’s voice sounded from behind her and they all quickly dropped their hands.

“Oh, nothing.” One of them answered. “Just some good old team bonding.”

“That’s great to hear! So, are we ready to get this party started?” He asked, earning a loud cheer from everyone.

They had the entire place to themselves which gave them unlimited access to everything. Y/N was playing air hockey with a few people when she noticed Michael’s uneasy demeanor. He was leaned up against the wall, watching with a half smile on his face. It was like he wanted to participate, but felt like he’d be rejected, so he just observed. She watched closely when he pushed himself off the wall and sped walked down a hallway.

“Hey, play for me!” She handed over her pusher, sprinting off and ignoring the confused looks.

The dimly lit hallway caused some fear to bubble up inside of her, but she continued on anyway. At the end of the hall were the restrooms, she heard rustling in the men’s room and stopped in her tracks. She focused on the sound and knew it was him.

“Michael?” She knocked softly.

“Y— yeah. I’m— I’m— fine.”

“Do you— can I come in?”

“Please.” His voice sounded strained, a few seconds went by and she heard the door unlock.

She opened the door slowly as to not scare him. He turned away from her, burying his face in his hands.

“Michael.”

“Hm.”

“Turn around. Look at me.” She sounded sweet, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It’s me.” Her palms rested cautiously on his wrists. “Come on.” She cooed, her thumbs running small circles on his hand and finally he let her take control.

“You don’t have to— you can go back out there.”

“I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not a big deal. I understand. We can still be friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” He spat bluntly, she blinked slowly, her throat closing rapidly and she became very aware of the fact she’s probably overstayed her welcome.

“O— Okay.” It was clear she was thinking of leaving with the way she glanced back at the door.

“No!” His body practically transported to block the exit and stop her. “I meant I don’t want to be your friend and nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” She asked, a confused expression on her face.

“It’s just— I mean— we can be best friends.” He said in a panic.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She nodded along and felt her stomach drop at the tone of his voice.

“Um— thanks for checking on me.”

“No problem. That’s what friends are for right?” She chuckled nervously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I think so. I don’t really know how to be around people and I don’t want to ruin anyone’s time.”

“You won’t ruin anything. What are you so worried about?”

“I’m not used to being around people my age. I don’t go out like this. It’s all new to me. I don’t want to be laughed at.”

“Michael, no one is going to laugh at you.”

“I want to feel normal for a night, you know? I thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity, but I saw everyone playing games and laughing together. I don’t know how to be part of it. I’m never included in things like this— I’m always kept separate from everything. It sucks.”

“Come on. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She held her hand out and waited for him to give in.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll fit in— I never do.”

“You fit in just fine. Michael, you’re so fun to be around. You deserve to enjoy yourself and make new friends. No one is going to make fun of you or make you feel out of place. I wouldn’t let that happen. There’s a good group of people out there and the night is still young. What do you say?”

“I say…”

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“Yes. I trust you.” He smiled, taking her hand without a second thought.

“Well, did you or didn’t you enjoy yourself?” She asked, climbing into the car as he held the door open.

“I did. You were right. Who knew I was so good at air hockey?” He laughed, sitting beside her and shutting the door.

“You were a natural! I can’t believe you’ve never played before.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“What?”

“I have an air hockey table at home…”

“You lied!” She shouted, turning towards him with her mouth wide open in shock.

“Kind of, but I didn’t mean to! I was nervous and I don’t know it just slipped out. Then, everyone started cheering for me and I couldn’t tell the truth! It felt good— I felt like a college student, hanging out with friends.” He shrugged bashfully and she couldn’t help but emphasize.

“I guess I’ll keep your secret. I’m glad you had fun with everyone.”

“And now, movie night!” He cheered as the car pulled into the driveway of his home.

They made their way inside and Y/N did her best not to look too blown away by his home. It was huge and beautiful. She tried to act as though this wasn’t her first time in a mansion, but hell was it difficult.

“You can leave your stuff here. The movie theater is on the other side of the property. I’ll just grab a few blankets.”

“Movie theater?”

“Yeah, we can drive one of the golf carts over. It’s too far to walk.”

“Golf carts. Plural.”

“You want to drive your own? We can race.”

“I’ve never driven one before, so I’ll just ride with you.”

He beamed at her, the way she was trying not to freak out over his home was commendable. He knew she wanted him to feel normal around her and he appreciated the hell out of that. When they made their way outside Y/N sat next to him trying hard not to let her gaze wander around the yard, he chuckled, placing the blankets in her lap and driving off at a steady pace.

“Here we are.” He sang softly, guiding her over to the tall brick building.

“Woah.” She whispered as he flipped on the lights revealing the theater. “It’s so nice. No way! You have a cotton candy machine!” She squealed, running over to it and searching for the on switch.

“It’s right there.” He laughed, pressing the button and watching closely as her eyes lit up. “I’m going to go get the movie started.”

She nodded, not looking away from the machine, she poured the sugar in and clapped as it fluffed up. The movie screen lit up and he dimmed the lights before making his way over to sit next to her.

“Here!” She held out a giant cloud of cotton candy.

“You’re funny.” He commented, looking on as she did a little happy dance in her seat.

“What?”

“Nothing I just like seeing you so happy.”

“This is going to be the best movie night ever.”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, the darkness of the room hiding the longing look in his eyes.

“Thank you for having me over.”

“To the first of many.” He grins, holding his cotton candy in the air looking to her to match his gesture.

“Definitely.” She raised her cotton candy and bumped it into his causing them both to crack up.

About half way into the movie, and after what felt like a ton of candy and popcorn, he decided to try something. He unfolded a blanket, laying it across both of their laps. She thanked him quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder, without hesitation his arm went to wrap around her. He was surprised with himself, he’d never made a move like that before.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice low, cautious not to completely interrupt the movie.

"Sure, funky feet. What's up?" He laughed, shaking his head at her silly nickname for him.

"Oh, shush, twinkle toes." He threw some popcorn at her which she attempted to block with a pillow.

"What's your question?"

"Why are you friends with me? Do you— don't you think I'm weird?"

"I'm friends with you because you're kind and we have a lot in common. You’re a good person and I think maybe some of that goodness could rub off on me. I enjoy being around you— we have fun together, don't you think?"

"Yes." He blushed.

"Good, I'm glad you agree."

"You didn't answer—"

"Michael, you aren't weird. You're actually very normal— all the insane talent and worldwide admiration aside... you're just a guy. A great guy with a good head on your shoulders and a pure heart. You are not weird."

"You really think so?"

"You're one of my favorite people for a reason."

Michael didn't say anything. He knew if he opened his mouth he'd end up bursting into tears.

For some reason her acceptance made him emotional. He squeezed her hand and that was enough. She knew.

Y/N laughed along with her friends as they walked out onto the road at the shooting location. It was a simple setting which would make them stand out even more. She felt some nerves as she watched the crew begin setting up their equipment. The group of dancers planned to run through the routine once, fix any possible errors, make the most out of the space before getting into hair, makeup and costumes for filming. She couldn’t help but notice how eager she felt to see him.

“Hey, you think boss man had a good time last night?” One of the guys asked out loud.

“I think so. He seemed to feel more comfortable with a certain someone beside him.” Her friend spoke, nudging her with her elbow. “Isn’t that right, lovely?” She giggled, using the nickname Michael had let slip so effortlessly the night before.

“Would you cut it out?” Y/N replied. “We get along. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool.” They mocked her jokingly.

“Y/N, he is so into you.”

“We’re friends.” She reiterated, focusing on tying her shoelaces, so she could ignore the pang in her chest.

“I bet you twenty bucks you two are boinking by the end of the week.”

“End of the week? More like end of the hour. Unless… they’ve already got it on…” They stared at her waiting for confirmation.

“You guys are being so inappropriate.” She said, laughing at their bluntness.

“Y/N.” One of the guys stood next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “We’re friends, right?”

“Right.” She answered, a little confused about where this was going.

“Yeah, friends. Which means, you’d never look at me the way you look at him—”

“I don’t—”

“And, you’d feel aggressively ill if I looked at you or spoke to you the way he does. You guys— the two of you are being really annoying denying what’s between you.”

“You can say that again!” Someone shouted.

“There’s— I don’t know what you guys want me to do.”

“Anything is better than doing nothing.” He smiled, hugging her tightly before pulling her along with him to join the rest of the dancers as they rehearsed.

As they moved to the music she tried to ignore everyone’s jokes, but she knew they were right. She had a crush— more than a crush, but she was sure Michael experienced that all the time— girls falling for him. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship over her feelings, especially when he’d expressed to her how difficult it was for him to make friends. He needed a friend and she was willing to be there for him. She’d do anything for him.

“Excited?” She asked enthusiastically as she approached Michael and John during their break from dancing.

“What?” He responded hastily.

“Oh, I just asked if you were excited?”

“Like you care.” He muttered, walking off and disappearing into his trailer.

She stood there dumbfounded, unable to take her eyes off where he’d been standing. John watched the exchange and felt out of place. He didn’t know what to do, the poor girl looked crushed. All the happiness vanished from her being in an instant.

“He’s just stressed.” He offered with a kind smile.

“Oh okay.”

“You should go check on him. We have some extra time.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“He does. Believe me. Go, it’ll help calm him down.” She nodded, walking over to his trailer, filled with uncertainty. Yet, here she was, knocking on his door, excited for him to answer. She just wanted to see his face.

“Come in.” His voice called from the other side.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I guess I’m just—”

“Stressed?” She smiled, finishing his sentence.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m here to help. What can I do? Do you want to pull a prank on John? I’ve got some good ideas.” She giggled wickedly, expecting him to be her accomplice without much persuasion.

“Do you— are you dating him?”

“What?”

“Are you dating him?” He questioned, his words coming out slowly.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“The guy. The one that was all over you.”

“No one was all over me. I’m not dating—”

“He had his arm around you. You were laughing and smiling. It looked like you enjoyed it.” He spoke, looking down at the floor as his voice became weak.

“He— what? No.”

“You two looked pretty cozy.”

“We are friends. That’s all. No coziness.” She argued, her hands held up in front of her defensively. “Where is this coming from?”

“Ok.”

“Michael?”

“Hm…” He mumbled, staring at the dirty tiled floor.

“Why did that have you so worked up… the idea of me dating him?”

“I wasn’t worked up.” He stated unconvincingly.

“Really? Then, what do you call it?”

“I call it— it’s just— you know we’re friends— I was being a good friend— worrying about you. I mean I wouldn’t want you, my friend, to date… date a guy— date a jerk. Date someone…”

“So, this is just about us being friends?” She asked, her voice becoming louder as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what we are.”

“The friend thing again.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand. Can you explain this to me? Why are you, my ‘friend’, so pissed off at the thought of me going on a date?” She asked, even using air quotes around the word friend. She was frustrated with all the mixed signals.

“Well, I’m not sure— I’m not mad about you going on a date—”

“Okay, well I’ll just go ask him on a date then, since you see something so special between us.” She threatened, spinning around and reaching for the door knob.

“No! You’re making rash decisions. Don’t do that Y/N!” He grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door. “I don’t want you to do that!”

“Why not?”

“I— I don’t know. He’s not right for you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I— I don’t— can you just not do that please?” He begged, looking into her eyes like a lost puppy.

“Why? Tell me. Michael, just say it.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know— don’t know— I don’t know what to say— just please don’t.” He stumbled over his words and felt his hands begin to sweat.

“Do you like me?” She inquired calmly, doing her best not to let her true feelings show, but also trying to avoid being hurt by his answer.

“Yeah. Yes, of course I like you.”

“As more than a friend?” He stared at her blankly, so she tried to relieve some pressure. “When I say the word friend about other people I meant it, you know? It’s simple, but with you. It feels like it means more. You’re special— to me you’re a one of a kind… friend.”

“Oh— well I mean I— I don’t want to say the wrong— I don’t— I screw things up— I feel things— I feel— I can’t— I’m not sure how to explain.”

“I like you.” She whispered, stepping towards him, her tongue dragged against her lips quickly, but to him it happened in slow motion. “More than a friend…”

“You… me?” He asked in disbelief. “How?”

“Seriously? How could I not like you?”

“I— oh— this…”

“It’s okay. I guess I read this wrong. Listen, I want to be your friend anyway. I can put my feelings aside—”

“Aside? No, no.”

“No?”

“Don’t put them aside. Please, I’m crazy about you.”

“Crazy, huh?”

“I can’t put into words the way I feel about you.���

“Then, show me.” She closed the space between them, her chest bumping against his with each breath. He swallowed any nerves he was about to voice, how could he feel anything negative when she was looking at him like that.

“Y/N.” He hummed her name just as his lips touched hers. His heart was pounding, his fingers trembling as they dug into her hips. Her arms wrapped around him and she moaned into his mouth.

He carefully walked her backwards, pushing her up against the wall. She let out a surprised yelp at how he took control, but that only turned him on further. She tugged his shirt off and he pulled her top over her head. The sight of her lacey bra brought him to a halt— he needed a moment to catch his breath.

“Michael?”

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed out. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted all this time being so afraid when I could’ve been kissing these perfect lips.”

“I can’t believe I waited all this time for you to finally make a move. I was growing impatient.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “Thank you, for helping me make my move. You lovely woman.” He buried his face against her neck.

“You’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Sorry.” He retrieved a button down shirt from his clothing rack, draping it across her shoulders and slowly buttoning it. “As much as I’d like to get you out of all your clothes… we’ve got all the time in the world for that. I don’t want to rush this. I don’t want to mess this up. I want to do this right, you deserve to be taken on dates and maybe… possibly… if you’re interested… allowing me to call myself your boyfriend.”

“I love the sound of that… boyfriend.”

“Are you free for a mini impromptu date right now, my beautiful, incredibly talented girlfriend?” He questioned, tucking her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers drag down the soft skin of her cheek.

“Oh, and what does this impromptu date entail?”

“A little of this…” his hands moved slowly down to the curve of her ass. “A lot of this…” he tilted his head, kissing her deeply, his tongue moving so perfectly, so sensually and it drove her crazy. When his lips traveled down to her neck, leaving wet kisses, she hooked her leg around his hips. She grinded against him, fully aware of what she was doing and feeling his hard growing made her smile into the kiss. They knew that eventually they’d go all the way, but for now they felt alive teasing one another.

In her mind she wondered what else he could do with his tongue. She looked forward to finding out. She was yearning to know how’d he feel on top of her or under her— any and every position really peaked her interest.

As she moved her hips against his, he wondered how good it would feel to be inside her. He couldn’t wait to hear all the beautiful sounds she’d make and how loud he could get her to scream his name.

[lemotmo]

They're in complete meltdown 🤣🤣🤣. She posted multiple questions at once, I sent everything. They're so bad at this 🤣. Enjoy!

Q. I have a college degree I am more than capable of comprehending the media I consume, certainly more than you are. I know what I'm watching when it comes to Tommy. Tim only came at us so you all would stop running to him crying.

Q. Love how wanting more of and for Tommy makes us the bad guys. You all are so pathetic. Tim's no better, he should have told you all to grow up.

Q. You all are so afraid of Tommy taking Eddie's place on the show and your desperation is showing. We all know Ryan's only there because Tim thinks he's hot.

Q. Tim should be embarrassed by that interview. How immature to call out your audience because we rightly told you that you weren't giving us what we wanted. He brought Tommy in he doesn't get to be upset when we tell him he isn't using him correctly.

A. I posted all of these together because this is what mine and many other ask boxes look like tonight. I will answer these questions jointly instead of one at a time. I want to first point out to all of you that you once again tattled on yourselves. You all seem to have a bad habit of doing that. First tattle was that you all clearly understood that you were who Tim was talking about. The second tattle was the one where we all said Buck didn't matter to you, and these questions prove us right. Buck isn't mentioned in any of these asks. The other thing these asks did though, and I'm positive you all weren't aware you were doing it, is confirm that you are indeed aware of the story the show is actually telling. Pretty sure you all didn't mean to let that little mask slip. Whoops. I do want to address the first ask for a minute though because, anon surely you aren't implying that a college degree is required to be on Tumblr.com discussing fictional television characters? The only qualification required is show/character knowledge (you know that thing many of you don't actually have). But if this is a personal dick measuring contest with me I have a double major in journalism and public relations and my minor was in political science. Does that qualify me to talk about Buck and Eddie being fond of one another? Or Tommy not being the right guy for Buck? What degree is required to be qualified to participate in fandom?

With that out of the way, let's jump straight into the interview since it's what set you all off. We need to acknowledge right away that Tim has spent his entire career dealing with fandoms. Buffy, 911, Lonestar. The man has seen some fandoms. The fact that he said he has never seen anything this ugly should embarrass and alarm you. I know it doesn't do either of those things, but it should. It's also probably very confusing for him because Tommy is very obviously being written as temporary so I'm sure this entire thing has taken him by surprise. But let's start at the beginning. Tommy came into the show at a clear disadvantage, and as a result many things needed to break perfectly in his and his fans favor for him to have any hope of moving the needle on the original storyline. One, everyone important involved in creating the show is firmly in the other ships camp. He needed to convert some pretty important people, that doesn't appear to have happened. Two, his scene partner on the show, Oliver, is also firmly in the camp of the other ship (he is in fact co-president of their fanclub), he needed him to at least be open to the idea of this relationship semi long-term. That very clearly didn't happen. Oliver checked out immediately following episode 6. He has been crickets ever since. Third, he needed a significant portion of the audience, a significant portion, to vocally become Tommy fans. That also didn't happen. He made a fandom dent of his own, and some of you all certainly tried very hard to appear to be many different viewers, but, again, you ratted yourselves out, so that plan didn't work. Lou needed all three of those dominoes to fall in his favor and he went 0 for 3. On top of that the fans that he did amass were described by Tim today in a very unflattering way. And that's putting it politely.

I will even give you the benefit of the doubt and say that the joint interview they sent him and Oliver on was testing the waters (it wasn't but I'm giving you the benefit for argument sake). If that had actually been a test, it was a massive failure. The only thing that interview accomplished was confirming their mutual disinterest in one another. They both tried for a brief minute but neither one was committed enough to the bit to really make an effort. Oliver's season long lack of even being interested in pretending was a death nail even if anyone behind the scenes was willing to think about it. What will be interesting to see is how long he actually sticks around for this season. Because I now believe it will be shorter than they probably ended season 7 thinking it would be. He was never going to be anything major, but I do think once they slowed the original storyline down they had plans to keep him for at least 8a, maybe a bit longer. Now I think he'll be lucky to make 3 episodes. There's a growing part of me that wouldn't be surprised if they did in fact decide to go the off screen breakup route. I raise that theory by suggesting they only released that deleted clip because they needed the audience aware that conversation took place, because it's going to be referenced in a scene in either episode one or two. I still believe the show needs him for at least a couple of scenes. Technically they could have Buck narrate why they broke up, but Buck is a notoriously unreliable narrator. Especially when it comes to himself. He'll paint himself as the bad guy, and this break-up doesn't need a bad guy. It's being written as a bad FIT. There's a difference. But if Tim, or especially ABC, believes Lou ended up causing more trouble than he was worth (he did) they'll cut their loss and explain the break-up and reasoning behind it (that's the part they need Tommy for) another way. It can be done though, it just won't be as cohesive as actually using Tommy to show it. In short, anons, the only thing Tim's interview today confirmed was that Lou's cameo nonsense did in fact create a mess that Tim, and company, are not at all happy about. Congratulations you played yourselves.

On a side note I didn't address the Eddie ask because you all have spent the entire off-season trying to hijack his entire character history to turn into Tommy's backstory. I think that proves who's actually afraid of who. And Ryan is hot. Tim is so valid for thinking that, but it's not the reason he has the job. But you knew that already.

I must admit that the OP has more patience than me. I got so angry seeing those questions she got in her askbox. I would have probably ended up deleting a bunch of them.

That being said, I love this answer so much. I agree 100% with everything here.

I think this deserves another one of these:

Thank you Nonny for dropping this in my inbox!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting these anon OP updates instead of reblogging. Don't get mad at me. There is a reason for it and it's all done with consent from the OP. You can find out more about that here.

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[factual-fantasy]

18 Asks! Thank you!! :}} 🎪

@pink088

Guuuuurl does it look like I missed the boops? XDD

(I DID miss the super boops and revenge boops tho. I was trashed on the couch and stuck on mobile all day so I wasn't able to send any back to anyone💔💔)

Uhhhmm... oh jeez lemme try to remember-- I'm assuming you mean the order I got everyone in the game..?? Cuz other than the goofy little comics I've been drawing there isn't much of a story beyond that-

Uhhh so I started with Midori(Sprigatito) obviously, thennn... I think I caught Grim(Gastly).. then I caught Gloria(Ralts). Thenn..... arrhrhhgh I thiiiink I went looking for eevees, but I found Anastasia(Shiny Kricketot) in the process and kept her. Then I picked one of the eevees I caught at random and kept him. Then lastly I found a Mareep(Bonnie) by surprise and kept her.

My memory is very poor but I thiiink that's mostly accurate <XDD If I misunderstood your question don't be afraid to send another ask! 😅

@pbjfox37147878

Sorry, I don't take requests.. But hey! You already got a solid concept going and some artistic talent, you can always make it yourself for free! :0

Not really.. I've had a surprising number of uncomfortable experiences with the fandom recently so I've decided to take a step back from Octonauts for a while..

@psype

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you like them! :}}

And yeah that's how I pictured her XDD its becuase I use her the most out of all my Pokémon-

Now she's not bossy and doesn't have a leader or "I'm better that you guys" complex, none of that! She's just very intelligent and usually very level headed and calm. I can imagine that she's gotten the team safely through a lot of complicated situations and her plans/advice have rarely led the group astray.

Plus since I use her so often, I like to think that she's one of the most powerful Pokémon on the team. If not the most powerful. So whenever the group was met with a great danger, Gloria was probably the one to rescue them <XD

So the whole group kind'a gravitates behind her and lets/wants her to take the lead most of the time. Especially when things get complicated or dangerous!

@nerdyskullcap (User in ask)

I took a peek at their blog, but I couldn't find any original art of the Conductor after quite a while of scrolling through that tag.. I only found reblogs of other peoples Conductor comics.. <:(

XD That description of Gloria is very fitting! I use her the most out of all my Pokémon and she rarely loses! XDD

This was a cool read, and hey! Some of my Pokémon have some of those attacks! :000 Gloria has draining kiss and Bonnie has discharge! :D

@cat7890

I'd like to think they've never fought before.. maybe some little bickering on a bad day, but never anything serious.

They have good communication and just generally get along really well and like a lot of the same things. So there's rarely conflict between them! :0

Thank you! I'm happy to hear that you like my artwork! :}}

As for your question.. I'm afraid I don't understand/cant explain it--

Lets say I wanna draw Mario. I imagine what the drawing might end up looking like in my head, what pose I'll draw him in and what colors I'll use.. And then I just.. draw it. It might not look exactly like what I pictured but its probably close enough.

If that doesn't answer your question, I'm afraid I either don't understand your question or this is just an art thing that I don't know how to explain. <:( Sorry, feel free to send another ask with more specifics if you have them!

@sleep-deprived-fr3ak

If Bill ever became a lawyer? All hope is lost XDD

@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42

I haven't really thought about the details of the crews travels and adventures.. but I'm sure that when Louis got cursed and became a crab monster? That was probably pretty memorable XD

Probably this one honestly <XD I cant think of anything more cursed off the top of my head-

@fawncr33k

I suppose that would be fine, but I wouldn't prefer it. As I've said many times,, just comments guys! Asks, reblogs, tags, how ever you type them. I just want comments.👍

@neo-metalscottic

No problem! Getting asks are usually a pick me up :}}

As for the Dry Bones thing, that's what I meant by "not sure how it fits into the AU yet" 😅 Who'd they fight? Why did they fight? When did this happen? No idea. Its all just a neat concept with no structure yet :// And beyond the awkward living situation with the Dry Bones today, I haven't really thought about how the Koopa culture has been changed by the war. That's just way too much thinking and I'm way too sick to bother trying to figure it out atm- 💀💔 But maybe someday I'll think it through!

Now Luigi, I had this idea that he had a bizarre encounter with a 1-UP and was later bitten by a Goomba. Over the span of say... 5 days or so..? Luigi slowly got weaker and weaker until eventually he became bedridden and actually died- He came back to life moments after but it still completely shook Mario and Luigi's worlds for a sec there-

I had intended to draw a comic about this, and I made a sketch about it in the past.. but around the time I thought of this idea my Mario phase was kind'a passing over so I didn't feel like making it- <XDD

As for a potential sequel, I would like to see Wario, Waluigi and Toadsworth. Not sure why Toadsworth wasn't in the first movie- he absolutely should have been. That deep voiced purple..? council..? toad guy?? Totally should have been Toadsworth :/

And my request for the Wario bros is that they are taken seriously. 😅🤣

@cherrycreamfairy

I'm doing okay so far today, thank you! :}

@littlelightfish

I haven't really figured out the details about how Tuna and Louis lost their limbs- 😅

But I'm considering that Louis lost his arm (I assume you meant his arm-) in some kind of work related accident a long time ago. It must have been a fishing accident somehow..

As for Tuna, either some kind of natural disaster/accident or.. someone "removed" them... O-O

I do not :/ I'm not even sure what homestuck is.. I thiiink its a webcomic-

@nemo-draco

Oooo! :00 It looks cool! :DD

And thank you, I'm hoping I get over this soon too 😅

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Can you please write some jealousy hcs for sf6 Luke, Ed, Jamie and Bosch? If you want to do different characters that's ok or if they are too many you can just do some. Thank you !!!

fun fact: this was originally supposed to be released 2 days ago but guess who accidentally deleted half of it. :| soo it had to be rewritten again. so sad. also I think you can tell who i like based on the length of the hcs, oops

Luke

For the most part, Luke's a pretty chill guy so things don't bother him as much as they used to when he was younger.

He's glad to see you expand your horizons and meet new people along the way, especially finding new masters to train under.

He wants to see how far you've come from the last time he saw you, so he asks for a quick sparring match.

And you'd exceeded his expectations!

He's happy to see you develop your own style and dominate the streets.

"Woah, you've really stepped up your game," he said, genuinely impressed.

One thing though...why do you fight like a certain drunken boxer he knows?

Oh, You're learning under Jamie? Cool. Cool.

He's smiling but you can feel the tension behind it.

Luke is definitely the type of jealous that tries to play it off in a joking manner.

"Let's just say, I've had a couple of run-ins with the guy." he forced a chuckle. "He's...something else."

"Sounds like there's more to the story."

"Maybe there is, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that you're growing into an incredible fighter, and I'm proud of you for that." He pulled you in to press a kiss on your temple.

"Thanks, Luke. That means a lot coming from you."

"Anytime," he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair playfully. "And hey, if Jamie gives you any trouble, you let me know, okay?"

"Of course." you laughed, swatting his hands away.

"Come on, let's grab something to eat. I'm starving, and I bet you could use a bite after all that."

"Sweet! But you're buying."

You're your own person and you get to decide who you want to train under, but it still nags at him from somewhere deep within.

It may sound selfish of him, but he would rather you come to him for your concerns than anyone else. In part as your Coach and boyfriend.

So when other people try to make moves on you, he's internally sizing them up as he gives them a once-over.

So even though he has a smile on his face, it never reaches his eyes.

But he won't bring it up this time since you held Jamie in such a high regard.

And he's not going to hold your hand for every decision you make, but he trusts you enough not to do anything behind his back.

He hates to admit it, but it does tick Luke off knowing that Jamie would rub it in his face in their next encounter, it's almost inevitable.

So he would have a couple of not-so-nice words for the guy the next time he sees him on the street.

Ed

Ed watched you near the gym entrance as he leaned against the heavy sliding doors. 

You were running late to your nightly meet-ups and you weren't responding to any of his messages leading up to now. 

He wouldn't have cared if something came up and you had to cancel your date with him, but you mentioned how excited you were about seeing him today that he didn't think you would've just dipped the last second. 

So he went on a whim and decided to pay the gym down the street a visit. 

And surprise, surprise, here you were. 

You were chatting with, what he could assume was your coach, in the middle of the room. 

Ed's eyes flickered at the way Luke lightly squeezed your shoulder with a certain fondness in his eyes.

Bastard. 

He didn't know if you were oblivious or dumb for not noticing, so he made himself known by stepping on the mats in your direction. 

His presence immediately drew your attention and your eyes lit up when you saw him approaching, stepping back from Luke you said, "Ed! What are you doing here?"

"You're late. We had plans, remember?"

"Oh, crap, I'm so sorry! I lost track of time and…" You sputtered an apology and some excuses that fell deaf on his ears but his attention was more focused on your chummy coach.

Ed's glare could paralyze most people with fear, but Luke observed the exchange with a curious expression.

Realizing you may be having a one-sided conversation you introduced the pair to each other.

Luke extended a hand with a friendly smile. "The name's Luke, I'm one of the coaches here at Buckler's.

"Yeah, I've heard about you." He said, not acknowledging Luke's hand, which made the former pull back.

"Ed's been teaching me a little bit of boxing on the side." You chimed in, wrapping your arms around him. 

Actually, it was a bit odd that he didn't immediately try to shake you off. But that meant his mind was somewhere else.

"You've taught them well, They're lucky to have you as a teacher." Luke replied, addressing Ed again.

"Right…" 

He shrugged the arm you were hanging onto. "You ready to head out?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my stuff real quick then we could go," you said, giving him a small peck on his cheek before heading toward the locker room, leaving the pair alone.

"Look I don't know what you're trying to play at and frankly I don't care, but it ends now." 

"Hey, man, I'm not trying to play at anything. I'm just their coach. We keep things professional here." Luke raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Yeah? Well, you seem pretty damn friendly for just a coach." Ed scoffed, not buying it.

Luke sighed, dropping his hands. "I get it. You're protective of them, and that's fine. But you need to trust that I'm not crossing any lines."

"Trust ain't something I give out easily. And right now, nothing's telling me you deserve even a lick of it."

"Fair enough," Luke said, crossing his arms. "But you should know that Y/n's here because they want to get stronger. And I'm not going to stop coaching them because you're feeling insecure."

"Insecure? Now you're just spouting crap." Ed narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think so." Luke hummed.

You quickly reappeared from the locker room with a bag slung over your shoulder. 

"Ready!" You said cheerfully, grabbing Ed's hand. "Alright, I'll see you later, Coach!" You called over your shoulder as you dragged the boxer towards the exit.

"Take care. And keep on practicing your footwork," he gave you a small wave. 

"Oh, and Ed," Luke said with a slight edge to his tone, making Ed turn to face him, "Take your shoes off the next time you step on my mats, won't you?"

Ed scoffed, with a smirk tugging on his lips. At least, he ain't no pushover.

You glanced between the two, sensing the underlying tension but not quite catching the full meaning of Luke's remark.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing, Just gym etiquette."

Jamie

With Jamie, he doesn't get jealous as easily as other people on this list. But he definitely has his gripes from time to time.

Woah, Pulling punches during a dance battle? Didn't see that one coming.

You told him you've been learning boxing from a guy who's been hanging around the beat square subway station, at least three times a week.

He was wondering what you've been up to.

Wait, did you say three times a week? That's more than you see him.

What's up with that?

He didn't mind you picking up new skills, especially with something as badass as boxing, but he missed your late-night talks.

And now, it was basically cut in half thanks to this Ed guy.

So he thinks it's time to give him a little visit from the infamous Jamie Siu, himself.

"Ah, now I get it." Jamie playfully circled him. "You got the whole bad boy get up and everything, huh?"

Ed looked up from his phone with an unreadable expression, "You gotta problem wit' me or something?" 

"Not at all buddy. I'm just trying to see who Mooncake's been hanging out with."

You sighed, telling him that Ed is just your Boxing coach and he's teaching you how to wield Psycho Power.

Nothing more, nothing less.

After adverting the crisis that was about to break out at the station, you would give Ed a quick apology before leaving with Jamie. 

Ed shrugged, saying 'whatever' and went back to his phone. 

You would have to confront him about his attitude later on.

Even if he felt jealous of where your focus was, you're still learning how to street fight. And he has no right to interfere with your training with your other Coaches. 

He shrugged at your concerns before asking if you wanted to try this new concoction he put together, offering the lip of his gourd to you. 

"Jamie, I'm being serious." You pushed the bottle back to him. 

"So am I."

You hardly picked up the way his eyes bore into your soul before he broke into a grin, taking a swig of his drink.  "Nothing like a good drink to ease the nerves."

When you tell him you're still upset with him about today, he'll lean up against the rails and cross his arms. 

Most of his jealousy stems from the fact that you're spending more time with other people than him. And he feels a tad bit neglected.

He's used to being isolated so the feeling isn't new to him. But he found himself staring at the space beside him where he expected to find your presence.

The times when you don't visit him, his mind wanders to the silly little adventures you'd tell him about and the places you get to see around the world.

But you have a track record of being gone for long periods of time and he just waits here, until you came back.

It's not your fault. He was just being a hard-ass, so he would be the one to apologize. 

"Look, I know you're still starting out and learning new stuff, which is cool n' all but I miss our nights together. And if it's that important to you, I'll back off. Just make sure to stop by from time to-time. 'Kay?"

"I will…And thanks, Jamie. I really appreciate it."

After a beat of silence, you gestured to the gourd resting beside you two. "Now, about that concoction of yours."

Jamie broke out in a grin, handing it to you. "Prepare to be amazed. The new and improved recipe is made from the ingredients you brought from Tian Hong Yuan. It's got a kick to it, just like you."

You both would've retired for the night in a drunken stupor, entangled in each other's arms.

He snuggled his face in the crook of your neck with a dumb smile, mumbling how much he loved you.

But next time you visit Ed, Jamie gives you a couple of 'souvenirs' to show off to your friend to show who you belong to. 

Bosch

You know, when you decided to stroll through town, Bosch didn't expect you to pick up another Master.

If anything, he guessed it was your eagerness that made people naturally gravitate to you.

He could tell how much you admired Rashid's wind abilities and charming personality, but it still irked him more than he cared to admit.

You would spend the majority of your days training and chatting with Rashid, eventually kicking Bosch to the curb.

He knew it was nothing more than a student-teacher relationship, especially since Rashid's wind techniques were something you wanted to master.

And the thing is, Rashid isn't even a bad guy.

He's just very charismatic, in a way that can be overbearing at times.

But he still couldn't shake the pangs of jealousy that gnawed at his soul.

With every new move that clicked, you would glance at Bosch to see if he noticed.

He's at least a little glad you still sought him out, despite your attention being elsewhere.

Maybe that's why he let it go on for so long.

He'll sit on his emotions and let the feeling bubble in his stomach before he would ever confront you about it. 

He probably even lets out a few snippy remarks if you keep pushing him away.

He doesn't mean it.

He never does, but Bosch has never been in a relationship before, so he doesn't know what to do whenever he felt the burning sensation of jealousy below the surface of his skin.

Bosch sat by the window sill and let the cool midnight breeze brush against his face.

He should've been relaxing, but his mind was anything but calm.

He heard the soft creak of the floorboards as he turned to see you approaching. 

You sat next to him by the window, offering some food you got from the markets. 

Your presence instantly eased his nerves as you both sat in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the city.

Sensing Bosch's off demeanor, you asked what was on his mind.

"I'm just thinking." He said, sipping his drink.

"About what?"

"You." His eyes met yours, "…and Rashid."

You blinked in surprise. "Rashid? What about him?"

"It's just…you've been spending so much time with him. I get that he's your new master and he's teaching you a lot, but it feels like there's no time for us anymore."

"I didn't know you felt that way, but I'm sorry for not noticing sooner." You said aimlessly playing with his hands before tangling them together.

Bosch sighed, looking down at your intertwined hands. "You don't owe me an apology. I know I'm being hard-headed. I just���I wish I could open up to you more."

"You can always talk to me about anything, Bosch. And you don't need to force yourself to do so for my sake."

He looked up, meeting your eyes again. "I know. It's just hard sometimes. And seeing you with Rashid, makes me feel..."

"Jealous?"

"It's stupid, I know."

"I don't think it's stupid, it's a very human emotion. But I want you to know that no matter what, I'll always want to be here with you."

He hummed, still not taking your words to heart and opting to stare off into the night.

"How about this?" You scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder, "I'll set aside more time for us, and you tell me whenever something's bothering you instead of bottling it up...Deal?"

A smile tugged on Bosch's face as he drew your intertwined hands closer, brushing his lips against your knuckles.

"Deal."

[alonelywaterbottle]

*EDGE OF SLEEP SPOILERS*

Still spoilers…

You can’t complain if you got spoiled now

Bullet points cause I think I had a point but I clearly lost the plot at some point

I’ve seen some people complain about the differences between the podcast and the show, and I just wanna say that I love it! I like the friends grandma better than the weird homeless guy cause she brought more world building for the implications of what that world would look like.

There was absolutely a bunch of people that were forgotten about. Teens pulling all nighters, babies who probably woke up in the middle of the night just in time for no one to be awake to care for them. All the dogs awake but confused as to why their owners doors never opened again. It’s sad, it’s horrible, I made myself sad thinking about it just now. There were people left behind that never knew what was happening

I was so incredibly happy that Mateo survived. He was my favorite and I was so sad watching the show knowing it was coming, but it pleasantly surprised me. And in the podcast when it was just Linda and Dave it made me go “ah… great. Ooo only a girl and a guy left, how shocking.”

I am sad that the funniness of the guy in Dave’s dream asking for cigarettes was cut. But I likes the more monster vibes rather than the ‘mysterious jungle tribe and spirits’

(I know that we will probably get some of that back if cleared for season 2 but still)

Ultimately, I’m glad it wasn’t a 1 for 1 remake with no changes. And it never was going to be. Television and podcasts are two very different mediums and it’s wrong to expect it to be.

I also wish we could have had some more horror elements but I know the budget was limited (Dave’s dream sequence in episode 8 would have been cool but so hard to do effects for) and hopefully we get a season 2 with a higher Amazon budget.

I also really hope that people know that it isn’t only popular cause hot YouTube man was in it. I personally would have watched it even if Mark wasn’t in it, I’ve been following its production as much as I could ever since the tv show was announced and Mark was flown out to Canada to film. It’s popular cause hot YouTube man is a good actor, it was made by very talented people, and it’s a great story.

I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, I really liked the show and I binged it while at work. If we don’t get a season two I will be sad and disappointed that The Plan™ didn’t work. (I think it will work but I’m afraid of big daddy Amazon nuking it like Netflix-does-actual-good-original-series just because the industry is scared of anything outside their status quo)

Edge real hard Sleep real good

Watch the edge of sleep all day and then also at night horray

[dreamyyesenia]

Always Keep Simming - A Ghostly Welcome

When the Blackburn’s entered the living room of the, formerly empty, Haunted House they were planning to hide in, they were surprised to find it occupied- by a ghostly figure. Who had just casually stated how delicious of a meal they’d made for them… Gemma wasn’t impressed by this though.

„Dear Ghost, I‘m sorry to destroy your dreams but you can’t actually eat us. You’re not a living being, thus you don’t have organs to properly digest us. You can pass through us, my theory is that that could be a bit odd and cold but nothing that a sims‘ organism can’t handle!“, she declared, being very proud of her observations and conclusions. Gavin, ever the supporter of his fearless twin, nodded. „Sorry to break it to you. You’re kind of dead, you know?“, he said in a sweet soothing voice. The Ghost was utterly surprised by these kids and looked at them, speechless. Then, they turned to Aileen and Colin who, as they always did, let their twins speak out freely (even if it could potentially make things worse).

„Interesting to see what you two produced. All that wohoo wasn’t for nothing, I guess!“, she bend over laughing.

„Wohoo? Did you guys attend a party without telling us?“, Gemma asked and looked at her parents with an accusatory expression. Aileen and Colin exchanged embarrased and confused glances.

„Wwhat wohoo do you mean? Do we know you?“, Colin asked the Ghost.

The Ghost smirked. „I‘m sure you remember the days you two spent here. Doing „scientific research“ - hach! I know exactly what kind of experiments went on in these rooms…“ She wiggled her eyebrows at Aileen and Colin. Gemma and Gavin were getting more and more curious and excited by the second, so Aileen said: „Okay, so you lived here, when Colin and I were staying here? We never saw you!“

„I‘m Lenore, Lenore Goth. The illegitimate daughter of Mortimer Goth. No one ever saw me, noone knew I existed. And yet, I am the heir and resident of this magnificent house. And it will always be this way. I will haunt this place forever. I didn’t show myself to you two because I thought you were adorable. Two eggheads, slightly mad, obsessed with the paranormal… you seemed like my kind of people. I‘d have loved to babysit the twins for you…“, she rambled, looking thoughtfully out of the window.

Aileen was shocked. The Goths had been close friends with Aileen‘s grandparents, she knew that her great-uncle had been married to Cassandra. Alexander had lived in Oasis Springs with his husband… . So, when Mortimer and Bella had died, the mansion was left vacant. „Who was your mother?“, Aileen asked.

Lenore chuckled. „Lilith Vatore, one of the originals. It was a one-night fling on spooky day. I was raised in Forgotten Hollow but I fled to this town when I was a teen to find my dad. I was still a fledgling though, I burned in the midday sun. Noone ever found me. I became a Ghost and decided to never leave the place of my demise…“

The Blackburn’s were seated in the living room and listened to the tragic story of Lenore. Gemma asked:“But, don’t you ever want to move on? Find peace in the Netherlands?“

Lenore looked to the ground, suddenly seemingly depressed. „I still feel like there’s so much to be done. I‘m not finished with this place. What was the reasoning for my existence? This question haunts me daily…“

They stayed silent for a bit. Then, Aileen proposed:“Well, Lenore, maybe we can help you with that? My husband and I are researching everything about the occult and I know that ghosts have been neglected by the sims, until now. Let us change that. We can publish our findings and honor you in it. That way, your name will be known by many sims. People will remember you for your contribution to our work. Doesn’t that sound good?“

„Me, being featured in a book? That other sims will read?“, Lenore seemed to be speechless for a moment. Then, she turned her gaze to Aileen and asked with slight narrowed eyes:“And what do you want from me, other than my knowledge? There has to be something in this that would benefit you…“

Aileen nodded, staying calm and collected, as she always was. „We need a place to lay low because a crazy spellcaster sage is after us. We live right next door but we can’t cast a protection spell there yet because the Crystal Tree is too small. We hoped coming here wouldn’t be too obvious and the specters coming at night would deter anyone from investigating here“, Aileen explained.

Lenore looked at a painting behind them thoughtfully.

„ Well, you’re definitely safe here from any intruders, the specters are like little guardians of this place. But we could ask Bonehilda, she’s always so helpful! I‘m sure she has an idea how to help you beat that witch. Alright then, if you guys are staying here, we need to hurry up! It’s winterfest eve!“, Lenore declared happily.

The twins sprang up from their seats and started dancing. „Let’s celebrate winterfest! Presents! Presents!“

[sugarpasteltmnt]

You write unhinged Leo so well, and I really like how you write him. I was wondering if you had tips on unhinged characters 😂, or do you just get inspro from existing characters 👀

aksdakjsdh thank you so much ;w;

And honestly???? I’m not totally sure how to give tips— but I love, love, love unhinged characters in media, so I’ll use them as examples

(long rant below lol)

I’ve always been a big fan of silly, ‘crazy’ characters in animated movies and cartoons. I grew up on Batman the Animated Series and the original Teen Titans, which were full of silly, fun tragic characters.

Don’t get me wrong, i love a good edge-lord— but as a tot i thought the colorful, theatrical, insane bad guys were more fun to watch than the big scary serious ones (ESPECIALLY if they had a good villain song. A+ good shit)

(From left to right: Ratigan from Great Mouse Detective, Joker from Batman the Animated Series, Mumbo Jumbo from Teen Titans, Martin from Secret of Nimh 2, Bill Cypher from Gravity Falls, and Spinel from the Steven Universe movie)

And not just bad guys!! There are a ton of unhinged good/neutral characters that i absolutely adore.

(From left to right: King Bumi from ATLA, Clara from Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun, and, of course, our silly 2018 turtle boys)

((There are many more characters in both categories, but I’ll slide these examples in here for now))

My personal brand of “Unhinged” or “Crazy” characters definitely leans on comedy. That’s what i enjoy seeing and reading! I personally like it because it can help keep a story fresh and interesting. There’s an element of surprise and unpredictability with what a character might do, and i love that!!

I also really enjoy a touch of feral behavior in my unhinged characters. The lack of clarity and the danger that imposes can be a very fun tool to use, no matter the character’s moral compass. (I’m feral for feral behavior lol)

And impulses. Whether a character has a few screws loose or is generally a goober, they like to act on impulses. This often goes hand-in-hand with comedy, and that’s something I enjoy!! We get a lot of moments like that in Rise, and that was one of my favorite parts of that TMNT iteration.

But as far as writing goes, it’s been tricky for me. All of the characters I grew up or love have been visual— trying to find a good balance for reading has been a puzzle I’ve been figuring out as I go.

I read a lot manga (lol nerd) and comics, and I love how thoughts/dialog are depicted. Especially the really dramatic or impactful moments. (I’d add examples but I’m already at the Tumblr image limit LAME)

As strange as it sounds, I try to capture that “impactful visual” style in my writing. If I had ANY advice on writing unhinged characters, pay attention to pacing—

Short. Fast. A calculating thought. Perhaps a run on sentence that lacks punctuation to represent the rushing and disorganized thought process. A question? An answer with little thought. Is this moment amusing; describe how. Is it upsetting; describe how. Are the thoughts starting to scatter? M aybe s o…

Big moment statement.

Action or plan of next big move. Flow should never seem too uniform. Even in normal writing. Don’t be afraid of accentuating— but don’t overdo it. Remember, unhinged characters are impulsive. Have fun with that.

Just as a quick and dirty summary— when it comes to unhinged characters, I like to use comedy, feral behavior, and acting on impulses. I also like to keep it as visually appealing as possible for characters to give the eyes a little treat after reading walls of text. I like to use fun text formatting to help with the fun too (But don’t overdo it! Don’t make it feel like a chore to read) (<- says the girl who goes into way too much details sometimes lmao whoops)

But ultimately— have FUN!!! Unhinged characters are fun, so make sure you have fun writing/drawing/creating them!!

[nrdmssgs]

Best part of his life

Masterlist Angst Pairing: König X afab reader TW: No mentions of death, but this all is an allusion. AN: Sorry, guys, I know, you come here for comfort. I'll be back with it in some time, promise.

The best days of his life started with a mission. It was a huge success: he and his team were so effective, they managed to end a whole operation a week earlier than it was originally planned. König was proud of his men and happy to return home, return to her so soon.

He can barely restrain himself from calling her - he doesn't want to spoil the surprise. A bouquet of fresh cut flowers is lying on the seat next to him. König touches tender petals and smiles, remembering her soft lips. The lips, that he hasn't ever kissed yet, but this time he sure will - now that she confessed her feelings before his deployment - he is not afraid, that they are on the different pages.

König never noticed, how close to the KorTac base she lived. Previously, the journey from the base seemed endlessly long, but now he only managed to get on the train and barely look around - and it was already time for him to get off. For the first time, he isn't bothered by a crowded station, noisy streets and cars leaving little to no space on the sidewalks. All that matters now is his destination and fresh flowers with drops of morning dew on green leaves.

He doesn't have to knock on her door, as someone left it open. König slips into the hallway just before the front door slams shut by the wind.

"Schatzt?" He calls her, and, not receiving any answer, searches for her in every room.

He's already starting to worry when he finally gets to the kitchen. She sits at the table, staring straight ahead. Large tears roll down her cheeks.

"My love, what's wrong?" He lets go of the bouquet and rushes towards her. She doesn’t answer him - she just exhales and her whole body shakes with a strangled sob.

König takes her hands and kisses them. Once, then again and again... Then he turns his gaze to the table. In front of her lies an opened envelope from the KorTac.

"Verdamte Idioten, diese Mistkerle hätten mir diesen Brief schicken sollen, wahrscheinlich ist es nur eine Gehaltsabrechnung für das Finanzamt!*" Konig notices, he is shouting. She was always afraid, when someone raised a voice in her presence. But now, she doesn't flinch or cover her ears. She sits absolutely still, looking down.

"Oh no-no-no, I'm so sorry, Schatzi! I didn't mean to scare you, my poor little love. Here, look at me, I'm smiling, I'm happy, no drama here, I promise." She doesn't react to his words, so he continues to cover her hands in kisses, hugs her tightly, strokes her hair. In a desperate attempt to distract her, König cups her face and gives her a long and incredibly soft kiss on the lips. When he realizes what he just did, his heart skips a beat. He shuts his eyes for a long moment, too afraid to see fear and anger in her face. But when he finally looks back at her - she looks calm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want our first kiss to be this... out of blue, I guess." He presses his forehead to hers. "Its just... I've been dreaming about it since you sent me that message with confession. I was daydreaming to come back home and do it. I had this crush on you for god knows how long, but hadn't the guts to make the first move... A-a-a-and, I'm talking too much, yeah?"

He laughs, brings her closer and hides her subtle figure in a tight embrace. Peppering her face with kisses, he mumbles, "Don't worry, my love, I'll never leave you from now on. No more letters from KorTac - I won't come back to them. From now on, I'm yours. Only yours."

If anyone asked him - König won't be able to say, how did he grow so bold with physical touches suddenly. Must it's her charm, or he just never was so desperately in love before.

Every next day of his life is better than the last one. They walk together, he helps her learn German, tells her stories from his childhood, reads her his favorite books, or just lays his head on her lap, as she is watching TV, sitting on the sofa.

König couldn't ask for a better life. He is so happy with it - he is even ok with her crying sometimes and never setting her kitchen table for them two. He genuinely understands, how overwhelming this love can feel - König himself is ready to burst into happy tears every other minute, he sees her. So there is no big problem in him to drop whatever he is currently doing and rush to her when he hears sobs. And when he sees only one set of tableware ready... Who is he to judge - König lived alone for so long, he would probably do the same automatically. So he just chuckles, takes out another plate and sits near her.

At first, he hesitates to sleep in her bed. "It's ok, I'll spend this night on the couch," says he, watching, as she goes to a bathroom before going to sleep. But one night he wakes up from whispers from her bedroom.

"I'm so cold without you, König... So cold."

He gets up from the sofa, hesitantly approaches her bed, and freezes. No, he's not going to lunge at her the minute she lets him get closer. But he still remembers how scared she was when they first met. He obviously seemed too dangerous, too big, too strong. Now König is ready to do anything just to prove to her that he needs all this strength, all his skills in order to protect her. For her, he is absolutely harmless.

"Why aren't you here, under this blanket..."

"I... I didn't know, you... needed me." Suddenly his mouth goes dry. He carefully climbs under her blanket, presses against her back, and drowns in the sweet scent of her hair.

"I love you." He brushes hair from her face.

"You will never be alone. Never be cold again, I promise." His lips brush against the back of her neck.

"I won't ever hurt you, love." He holds her in the most tender and warm embrace and watches as she slowly falls asleep. König is happy that her body is no more as tense as it was every time, he stepped too close. He is so happy that he does not even notice how the morning comes.

For breakfast, she again sets the table only for herself. But this doesn't upset him. Nothing will ever upset him.

Verdamte Idioten, diese Mistkerle hätten mir diesen Brief schicken sollen, wahrscheinlich ist es nur eine Gehaltsabrechnung für das Finanzamt!* - Damn idiots, those bastards should have sent this letter to me, it's probably just a payslip for the tax office!*