#this story has been swimming in my head for like.... the majority of this year

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE FINAL SHOW

A/N: last night was a rollercoaster of emotions and i still can't believe love on tour is over, but it will always have a special place in my heart. one thing is for sure, im sill here and i will continue writing for this amazing human until he returns onto the stage where he belongs.

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

SUMMARY: You made a promise in the beginning of Love On Tour and now it's catching up with you and though your heart wants you to keep your word, you know it's not that easy, because it's about your boss, the person who matters the most to you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You should have learned by now that Harry Styles never forgets.

He remembers every birthday, anniversary, every story anyone tells him, he remembers fans he has interacted with and he is extremely good with names. It’s definitely one thing you admire about him.

But know this tiny detail about him did not teach you to watch what you say around him, because he will recite your words even years later.

It’s been an on and off tango between the two of you for a long time. As his assistant, you’ve been dancing on the line of being professional and jumping into his bed whenever he does as so much as looking at you with those stupid, gorgeous eyes. He is your job, you keep telling that to yourself, but deep down you know he is more than just that.

He is… everything.

It would be easier if he only saw you as his assistant, but that’s not the case. Just how you caught those certain feelings, Harry has shown interest towards you, on several occasions, flirting with you bluntly, asking you out every possible chance.

And each time, when you turned down, a voice in your head screamed at you, but your rationality has been stronger so far and it hasn’t let you take that leap that would change everything forever.

Now, back to his immaculate memory.

You’d been working for him for over a year when the first European leg of Love On Tour was about to start, the residency shows were set to be announced and along with the South American, Australian and Asian dates and another full European leg was in the planning phase. Tour was looking endless and everyone on the team was joking that there won’t be a final show of Love On Tour.

Following another meeting in Harry’s LA home you were hanging out by his pool, something that happened quite often, because he liked to share what he had with the people around him. The sun was setting and you both had several glasses of wine, so the business talk has been long forgotten when you ordered food for the two of you.

You were in the shallow, lounge area of the pool where you could sit in the water and you were enjoying a hamburger while he was swimming around, watching you. You caught him looking right in the middle of a huge bite.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him as he swam closer with a grin on his face.

“You look amazing.”

You snorted out loud, mouth full and probably smelling like onions.

“I’m sure I do,” you sarcastically said. “Is this what turns you on? Chewing and onion smell?”

“No. It’s you.”

You stopped and gave him a suspicious look. He moved over and sat beside you.

“You turn me on, Y/N,” he added, when you didn’t say anything, just leisurely staring back at you, as if he hadn’t just overstepped a major boundary between boss and employee.

“Harry, stop,” you mumbled, putting the remainder of your burger to the plate at the edge of the pool.

“What? You started it with guessing what turns me on.”

“It was just a joke!”

“Okay, and I told you the truth.”

“You definitely shouldn’t be saying shit like that to me.”

“Too late, already did, so I think we could take it even further,” he shrugged and you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Oh, you are something else, Harry Styles, you know that?”

“That didn’t sound like a no to me,” he grinned, moving just a tad bit closer, but still respecting your private space. “I really want to kiss you, Y/N,” he bluntly added and you knew it was the wine talking from him, sober Harry wouldn’t have said those words out loud, but it didn’t fail to make you feel dizzy and weak.

“That’s not gonna happen now,” you shook your head.

“Okay, if not now, then when?”

“You are so annoying,” you laughed again. “You know what? You can kiss me when Love On Tour officially ends,” you joked.

It was a genuine joke. Anyone would have known you didn’t mean it, but it was Harry you said it to and the moment the words left your mouth they burned into his memories forever.

“Alright then,” he simply said, splashed you and then swam away.

That was the beginning of 2022. You slept off the wine and though you never forgot you said it, you didn’t keep track of the promise you initially made.

Harry did, however.

Not one day went by without him thinking about those words and it was the only reason he was looking forward for the very last show of Love On Tour.

He’s been acting weird, probably since about Vienna. With two weeks until the end of tour and his break, your workload hasn’t gotten less so you couldn’t really care about his weirdness, but when you’re out for dinner in Barcelona with the band and some other crew members and two rounds of drinks have been consumed already, you finally acknowledge the change.

“Hey, you alright?” You poke your elbow into his side, stealing a fry from his plate. Shrugging, he pushes the plate closer to you.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” you ask, snacking on his leftover fries.

“The end of tour.”

Freezing you instantly remember to that one conversation in his pool. You peek at him and find him already looking at you with a gaze that burns right into your heart. Clearing your throat you turn back to the fries and pretend like you don’t remember the promise you made.

“Just two more weeks and you’re free.”

“That’s not how I see it.”

“Mmm,” you hum, but don’t dare to look at him. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, but luckily, before he could bring up anything specific Mitch call out his name from across the table and you’re relieved. For now.

It’s almost midnight when you all head back to the hotel and you and Harry somehow end up at the back of the group. The elevator is too full for the two of you to get in as well, so you wait for another round. While you’re still ignoring to look at him, he is very much only looking at you, it feels like.

The elevator returns and you get inside, but Harry pushes the button for the top floor.

“Hey, that’s—“

“I want to show you something,” he hold up a hand.

The top of the hotel has a rooftop bar with an amazing view of the city, the perfect grid of the streets, it’s breathtaking.

“I knew you would like it,” he smiles, leaning against the railing next to you, with his back towards the view, as if he was way more interested in seeing you than the city.

“Because you know me so well,” you chuckle softly.

“I do,” he answers quietly. “We have only four more shows.”

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes glued to the view in front of you.

“The final show of Love On Tour is in ten days.”

“I’m glad you keep track of the shows so well, I feel like I’m not even needed anymore,” you joke with a chuckle, but when you finally look at him you know why he is bringing all of these up.

“Do you remember what you promised would happen when the last show finally comes?”

“Harry…”

“You do,” he simply says. “I know you as someone who keeps her word.”

“It’s… Harry, that was never a promise, I was just joking!”

“None of it is a joke to me, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, but hate the effect his words have on you. Like your whole inside is on fire, begging to just give in finally, to end this years long game and act on the feelings you’ve been pushing down so hard all this time.

Sighing you cross your arms over your chest. You want to make fun out of it again and say that it was all just about a kiss, but you know, you both know that it would never stop at one kiss, that it’s bigger than that and it would consume you fully if you let your walls down.

“This seems like a big mistake,” you tell him honestly. “What if it goes wrong and… I lose my job… and you.”

Your voice breaks at the end and you can’t look him in the eyes. You’ve spent endless nights thinking about what would happen if you gave in and it all went downhill. Your job might be the last thing on the list of worries, what really scares you is to imagine a version of your life without him because.

It would break you.

“Being scared of the wrong outcome will keep you away from the best things in your life, Y/N.”

“Did you just call yourself the best thing in my life?” you try to joke, but he just gives you a look.

“Don’t think about the what ifs, if you get there, you’ll figure it out. You always do. We always do.”

“This is not that simple,” you shake your head. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“But it is,” he chuckles, but you keep shaking your head. “Figuring out my feelings has never been this simple.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence when not even you know whether you’re about to give in or not and for a split second it actually feels like you’re breaking, but something pulls you back last minute.

“No. And we should be heading back, you have a show tomorrow. You need to get some rest.”

You step away from the railing and start walking back, but when you notice that he’s not coming you turn around and see him staring at the city this time. Opening your mouth you’re about to call out for him, but then change your mind and let him be, walking back to your room.

When you see him again in the morning he doesn’t bring it up again and you’re convinced he won’t bring your promise up again.

The last show has everyone all over the place, you’ve been running around since about six in the morning, picking up people, making sure the hotel check-ins go smoothly and everything is exactly how it should be. The day feels like a whole week, but the excitement and bittersweet sadness that’s been wrapped around everyone is what keeps you up on your feet still.

But the real weight of the last show hits the moment it finally starts.

This is the time when you have nothing to do so you watch Harry perform every night, meaning that this is the 169th time you’re seeing him take the stage and perform just as perfectly as he did at the first, the fiftieth and one hundredth show. He always gives his absolute most. Not just at his shows, but in his life as well. That’s one of the million reasons you fell for him.

Medicine has everyone dying, all 100 thousand people out there and then Harry starts giving his speech that’s extra long this time, talking about how grateful he is for everything, for his fans, his friends and family and it’s one big emotional mess and you can’t help but cry a bit as well, watching from the side.

“The last two years of my life, the last two years of this tour has been the greatest experience I could ever ask for…”

“I see it, the love, in how it’s affected all the people around me, continue to affect people. It does not end with this tour.”

“I love you, thank you so much.”

Screaming rolls over the crowd as an answer and you expect him to go on with starting As It Was, but then he starts talking again.

“There is one more thing I want to say tonight. I have learned and experienced so much in the past years. I will be forever thankful for the memories we’ve made.”

There. He said we, he switched up his narrative. That’s how you know he is not talking to the crowd. He is talking to you.

“If this is it, if it never goes beyond this, I would live a happy life. With you forever in my heart. But if we ever take it further, if we ever take the risk and reach for the stars and we might fall… just know that I will always be here for you. You can never lose me. No matter what. I love you.”

You suck on your breath, covering your mouth with your hand as you stare at him stand in the middle of the stage, staring out ahead of him, the crowd screaming for him, oblivious to the one sided conversation that just happened between you and him.

As It Was starts and the show carries on towards the end, but you’re still frozen in that moment and when the show ends and you watch Harry drop to his knees on the stage, you know things will never be the same.

Backstage is like a tornado once the show is over, the band walks off the stage and Harry is following right behind with Lloyd by his side, but when he sees you standing still in the middle of the madness, he drops out of the conversation right away and stops a few feet away from you, letting you decide where to go now.

“You promise?” you breathe out, your throat closing up. “You promise I will never lose you?”

“I thought that was clear by now, Y/N,” he replies, his chest still rapidly rising and falling. “But if you need me to actually say it, I will. You will never lose me, no matter what. It will always be you and me and I know you’re scared, but I’m—“

He doesn’t get to finish, because you’re already throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him.

It doesn’t matter that the whole crew bursts out into screaming and whistling, that you’re giving a second show with the way you get lost in each other, because in your little bubble it’s just you and Harry and everything that’s been building between the two of you.

Every joke, every teasing comment, all the stolen looks and suppressed feeling that was never acted on is now free, they all burst out of your chest and into the electricity that’s snaking around you as you keep taking more and more of him, hungry to make up for the past years.

The clapping dies down when you finally pull back, forehead resting against his, his hands holding you so tight as if he was afraid you might run away any moment.

“You kept your promise. I knew you were trusty, Y/N Y/L/N,” he chuckles, pecking your lips softly again as you laugh at his words, finally opening your eyes to look at him.

“Actually I feel like I kissed you. I promised you could kiss me, so technically—“

“Shut up, you’re already getting on my nerves,” he laughs, kissing you over and over again, so your promise is actually fulfilled. “Can’t wait for you to do that every day for the rest of my life.”

“I thought that was part of my job too, have I not been doing that?” you tease, lips moving against his as you speak.

“You have, but you can take it to a whole new level now,” he laughs, pulling you against him before letting you go and popping the bubble, though his hand never lets go of yours, not while everyone congratulates him, not when the final show celebrations start and not when he pulls you into his hotel room to end this journey of Love On Tour with you by his side, but also start a new chapter.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[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.

[w2soneshots]

Toddler -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: none.

summary: you and Harry enjoy a holiday in Dubai with your toddler.

notes: Currently got major baby fever so here's some dad bog content🤭. Enjoy!💓

Liked by wroetoshaw and 1,017,349 others

y/username: living the dream☀️🌊 @wroetoshaw

-comments-

gkbarry_: you look incredible get in my bed

-> y/username: 🛏️🏃‍♀️

faithloisak: enjoy my lovelys🫶🏼

taliamar: cutest family ever!🥹💗

y/nfanpage21: I love this sm

user2104853: the third photo is adorable🩵

Over a year and a half ago me and Harry welcomed our little boy into the world. So far it's been incredible and I've enjoyed every minute of being his mum, even through the tough parts his little smile would make the hardships completely disappear in an instant. Harry is also an amazing dad, it's like he was born for the role. A few months ago Harry surprised me with a week long trip to Dubai, and what is our first holiday as a family of three. I was extremely excited and almost immediately called Faith to get advice on what I should pack for Ollie, which is what we ended up naming him.

We arrived two days ago and are already having the best time. Yesterday we spent all day at the beach then went for a nice dinner, in which Ollie slept in his buggy the entire time. Today we're going to the Dubai aquarium, getting some lunch and going shopping. I woke up to the sound of giggling, I pried myself from Harry's grasp and reached forward to grab the smiling baby from his travel cot. I placed him between me and Harry in the bed then drifted back off to sleep. I woke up an hour later, reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone to see a message from Harry saying he'd gone out to grab some breakfast from downstairs. I got up and took a picture of Ollie surrounded by the white fluffy bed sheets.

y/username just posted a new story!

I quickly got dressed while Ollie slept and Harry soon came back with breakfast. When we were all ready we left the hotel to head to the aquarium. We rented a car the first day we arrived, since Ollie has to sit in a car seat plus we'll be spending much less on Ubers. I drove (since Harry despises driving) and we were soon parked outside.

Harry pulled the exited toddler from his seat, and we headed inside. Ollie seemed to be absolutely mesmerised by the sea creatures (especially the 'big scary sharks'). When we'd walked around the entire aquarium we left to go get some lunch since we were all hungry and Ollie was getting quite restless and in desperate need of a nap. We went back to the car to grab the buggy from the boot then walked to one of the nearby restaurants.

We sat down to eat our lunch as Ollie soundly slept. As me and Harry finished up our food Ollie woke up, now full of energy and hungry. We'd ordered him some plain chips so he ate them along with some fresh fruit. Which they seem to have lots of here, probably because of the hot weather.

Then we paid and made our way to Dubai mall, which thankfully has air conditioning. I happily looked through some shops while Harry followed me with the buggy. "Almost done?" Harry asked, very clearly bored. I turned around and shook my head jokingly "almost." I said with a smile. "M- mummy?" Ollie babbled. "Yes baby?" I replied squatting down in front of him. "I wanna go- the pool." He smiled. Harry chuckled and I glanced up at him "ok, let's go." I said and a look of pure excitement spread across his face.

Liked by wroetoshaw and 719,238 others

y/username: my toddlers new fixation: sharks😂🤍

-comments-

tobjizzle: looks like so much fun! Hope you're having a great time guys❤️

-> y/username: we are ty uncle jizzle💞

faithloisak: so stinking cute🥺

y/nfanpage21: the mum fits are👌🏼

user50172932: those burgers omfg

When we arrived back at the hotel we got straight into our swimming costumes and headed down to the pool. We found some deck chairs and put our things down, then (after smothering Ollie in suncream) all three of us got into the pool.

y/username just posted a new story!

Later... "I'm so lucky." Harry whispered, as we lay in bed and Ollie lightly snored in his cot. I smiled "you're so cute." He pulled me into a sweet kiss "I mean it, I'm so lucky to have you and Ol, I love you both so much." "And we’re so lucky to have you Haz."

[chelseachilly]

serenity

pairing: reader x ben chilwell a/n: just a quick little fic bc i needed to write something after ben's photo dump yesterday lol, and to get the writing juices flowing after way too long! i have a much longer fic that's almost done which i can't wait to share with you all soon 🤍 warnings: none, just fluff! word count: 1k

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benchilwell via stories

yourusername via stories

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been so content as you are right now.

You’ve always loved summer holidays, but never more than since you started dating Ben. He’s so busy throughout the year that you often get very little time together, so when the season ends, you’re more than ready for some uninterrupted relaxation with your boyfriend. 

You know it’s bittersweet this year, as you were both hoping that Ben would make the Euros squad after a somewhat disappointing season and more injuries. You truly believe he deserved to be there, but you’ve decided there’s no point in dwelling on what could’ve been. So despite the letdown of Ben missing out on another major tournament, you’ve both made the most of your holiday so far.

After he went to the F1 in Monaco with the boys, you met up with him and a few of his mates in the Caribbean for the week. You’re all staying at a gorgeous private villa that took your breath away when you first saw it. It’s now your last night here before Ben flies to Marrakech for some time with his family and you have to go back to London for work, which you’re absolutely dreading after the most perfect week with him. 

You’re currently curled up with Ben on a lounge chair, just the two of you alone on the gorgeous terrace with an infinity pool overlooking the ocean. The sun is setting, and you’ve never felt more at peace. 

“I don’t wanna leave this place,” you sigh, burying your face in his neck. 

After a long day of swimming and snorkelling off the boat provided by the villa, you’re both tired and enjoying the tranquility of this moment. The rest of your group is inside watching the day’s Euros highlights, and you know Ben would’ve done the same and ended up lost in his own bad thoughts if you let him. Instead, you grabbed him by the hand after dinner and dragged him out here, receiving no complaints from him as you laid down almost completely on top of him with your legs intertwined and your arm around his waist.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Ben counters, and you know what argument he’s going to make. “Come with me to Morocco. Alex and my mum would love it if you came.”

“Babe, you know I would if I could,” you tell him sincerely. “But I can’t take any more time off right now. I’m sorry.”

Ben already knows this, so he doesn’t argue you further, though you know he wants to. He just tugs you slightly closer to him and drops a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Promise you’ll call me every day, though? I want to live vicariously through you while I’m back to the boring office life,” you murmur, your cheek pressed to his chest. 

What you really mean is that you want to check in on him every day, to make sure he’s not going down the rabbit hole of regret and self-loathing like he has in the past. You hate that you can’t be there with him in person for the entire summer break, but you’ll be damned if you don’t do everything in your power to make sure he’s okay, even from afar. 

“I will,” Ben agrees, slipping his hand under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing and gently rubbing the skin of your lower back. “You don’t have to worry about me, baby.”

You know he can see it in your furrowed brow when someone talks about football and your overly clingy behaviour this week that you’re concerned about him.

“I love you too much to not worry, Ben,” you say, a slight shiver running up your spine as he continues to caress your skin. 

“I know,” Ben says with another kiss to your head. “And that’s why I’m the luckiest man alive. But I swear I’m okay. It was a bit tough to take at first, but I can’t really complain when I’m in paradise with my best mates and my girl.”

“I’m glad you’ve had a good holiday, you deserve it,” you smile. “What was your favourite bit?”

“Hmm…convincing Tom we saw a shark while we were swimming today was up there,” he chuckles, making you laugh as remember the sheer look of terror on your friend’s face. “I think he might’ve pissed himself.”

“I think he’s still mad at us,” you laugh. “Worth it, though.”

“But mostly just being here with you,” Ben says softly, running a hand through your hair as you pull back and rest your head on his chest to look at him properly. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

You cup his face with one hand, running your thumb across the beard he’s grown out a bit and staring into his eyes. There’s a stunning view of the sun setting over the shimmering blue sea just to your right, but you think you prefer this one. 

“I love you, too.”

Ben smiles before leaning in and kissing you, your lips meeting gently. It’s a slow, drawn-out kiss, neither of you wanting this moment to end. 

“We should go inside and pack,” you mutter when you pull away, painfully aware of your early flight tomorrow. 

“In a few minutes,” Ben says, wrapping his arms around you completely and pulling you back into his chest. “Let’s enjoy this a little while longer.”

You allow yourself to relax into his embrace, humming in contentment as he continues to stroke your hair. 

Your real life and responsibilities may be awaiting you back in London, but for tonight, you’re going to soak up every last second of this serenity with your boyfriend.

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, masonmount and others yourusername Perfect week, missing this place (and this boy) already 🤍🌴 view all comments benchilwell Love you ❤️ sophiaaemelia looks like paradise! miss you 🫶🏼

benchilwell

liked by yourusername, madders and others benchilwell Serenity. view all comments yourusername 😍🥰❤️ masonmount Love it mate!

-

a/n: please let me know if you liked this, all comments/feedback appreciated 😊

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 5

Hey guys, back with this one! Again, I have a backlog to share with all so this should come out more regularly.

Just a reminder there isn't a set schedule anymore, just vibes. But if there is a story you want to see more often, let me know.

In this we have Steve's good luck charm, Gethin coming to Steve for help with the journalism schism, and Nancy and Steve finally having the talk they should have had from the beginning (she's not there 100% yet but it's better).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

****

They went to nationals and lost. When Steve got back he joked that Eddie was his good luck charm.

“Get off, Stevie,” Eddie scoffed during lunch. “I am not.”

Gareth chuckled. “I don’t know, man. Steve’s luck has shot up since you guys became friends. He hasn’t been hit once!”

Steve glared at him. “Thanks, Gary.”

Gareth stuttered. “What the fuck is Gary?”

Everyone laughed.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Gareth growled. “My name is Gareth.”

Steve tilted his head to the side. “But isn’t that where Gary comes from? A shortening of Gareth?”

“I don’t give a fuck, man,” he hissed. “If Gethin hears it, he’ll never let it go.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ in understanding. It was like Dusty Buns. “That’s fair.”

“What’s fair?” Gethin asked from behind Eddie.

Jeff opened his mouth to answer but Gareth kicked him under the table.

“That my taking hits to the face have gone down since I started hanging out with Eddie,” Steve said with a smile.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Stevie here seems to think that I’m his good luck charm.”

Gethin rubbed his chin. “I think Steve’s got something going with that.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “Not you too!”

Gethin started ticking off reasons on his fingers. “Billy has left him alone, he got a pretty major part in the school play, made it to nationals for swimming...need I go on?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped and he looked over at Steve in shock. “Holy shit. Maybe I am your good luck charm.”

Steve grinned. “Told you so.”

“Why are you here, Geth?” Gareth growled at his sibling. “Don’t you usually hang with the journalism crowd?”

Gethin grimaced. “There’s been a divide among us.”

Steve’s lip curled. “Let me guess, half you sided with Nancy over the swim team making it nationals and the other half thought she went too far?”

Gethin nodded. “Jonathan’s for too much, too far, but most of them think that jocks should be prosecuted more, not less.”

Eddie winced. He had espoused similar thoughts before befriending Steve.

But Steve just snorted. “Like she didn’t enjoy the benefits of dating one last year.”

The whole table erupted in stomping and pounding on the table.

“Ooh...” Jeff said. “Burn!”

Gethin grinned. “I’ll be sure to remind her of that fact. That last year she was all for sports when it pleased her. Thanks, Steve!”

Steve just shook his head.

Gethin skipped away from their table better armed against a furious Nancy.

Steve looked around to make sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t within hearing distance. Then he leaned forward.

“Who would be interested in a sequel comic to ‘The Boy With a Bat’?” he whispered conspiratorially.

Everyone else leaned in excitedly.

“What would this one be about?” Brian asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard in the crowed cafeteria.

“Our hero helping out a bunch of kids in a junkyard fighting off dire wolves,” Steve whispered back in conspiratorial tone.

Steve had learned the term from Eddie. Apparently they were very big wolves. And that sounded to him like the right amount of ‘what the fuck’ the demodogs gave off.

“How did our hero get into that mess?” Eddie asked, his voice on the verge of cracking. He knew that these were things that Steve had gone through for real and that terrified him.

Steve let out a sigh. “By realizing that the kid with the high intelligence and the low wisdom would have gotten himself eaten if our hero hadn’t went along to protect him.”

Eddie’s mouth formed a silent ‘Oh.’ Yeah, there was no doubt that was Dustin. In the few times he had met the kid, he was always struck by how dumb he was despite being a literal fucking genius.

“That sounds so cool,” Gareth breathed. “I would love to read that, man.”

Jeff nodded. “Like you should serialize the whole thing and sell it, dude. You could make bank.”

Steve thought about the NDA that was sitting in a lockbox at the back of his closet and snorted. Those bastards would be on him faster than lightning.

“It’s just something fun to do while Mrs Click drones on and on about the Ottoman Empire,” he said with a shrug.

Eddie pointed at him and clapped. “Yes! Like how could one person take something so interesting and make it duller than dishwater.”

Steve smiled at him gratefully as the conversation shifted to horrible teachers. Eddie was still the only one outside of the “Party” that knew about the Upside Down.

He looked over at Nancy and found that she was glaring at him. He didn’t want to anger her further, so he got up and threw away his garbage. He stacked his tray up and bid the others goodbye.

If she wanted to speak to him, she would have to come to him.

****

Steve had to wait a couple of days, but Nancy did come to him.

It was one of those rare days where Steve didn’t have anything going on but the rest of the Hellfire Club crew did. So he was at his locker making sure that he had all his homework that he needed for the weekend after school.

He was alone for all intents and purposes.

“Steve,” Nancy said, “we need to talk.”

He slammed his locker shut and she winced. “Are you actually here to talk or are you here to excuse your bad behavior and get me to apologize even though I haven’t done anything wrong?”

She frowned at him. “I don’t do that.”

“Whatever, Nance,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and shouldering his backpack. “I don’t want to get into a screaming match right now.”

Nancy held out her hand to stop him. “Would you just wait?”

“Come on,” Steve said with a sigh. “We talk on the way out to my car.” At least if he needed to make a quick getaway, he’d be able to drive off.

He started walking toward the doors and she scrambled to catch up.

“I can’t believe you told Gethin to throw it back in my face that I used to date a jock,” she hissed.

Steve smiled at her smug. “Well you did, Nance. And as I recall, you flirted with me first.”

“Yeah, I did,” Nancy said, ducking her head. She let out deep sigh. “I just want to be a journalist. A real one. But the advisor for the newspaper only sees me as a girl so all I get are the fluff pieces like Homecoming Queen and King and sports like boys’ swimming because all the guys are uncomfortable with all the Speedos.”

Steve snorted. “Only you didn’t go after Ezra, or any of the other members of the team, you went after me. And you did it so hard that Jonathan who I’m pretty sure would hate my guts if I hadn’t saved his life, thought that you were being harsh.”

Nancy pursed her lips. She didn’t know why she went after Steve as hard as she did. She needed a target and Steve was right...there.

It had been so easy to lash out at him for Barb, the monsters, the frustration of not being taken seriously, for all of her problems. But she knew he didn’t deserve it.

“He told me that unless I fixed it,” she said softly, “that he would eat lunch and go home by himself.”

Steve laughed bitterly. “So you’re not even here because you think you need to apologize. You’re here because your boyfriend won’t put out until you do. Jesus Christ, Nancy. What even is this?”

He stopped in front of the doors. “I’m not your punching bag anymore. I’ve got friends now. Friends that really care about me, for me.”

Nancy sighed. “I’m not trying to start a fight.”

“Not this time,” Steve scoffed.

She winced, but nodded. “Yeah okay, I deserved that.” She lowered her voice and hissed, “It’s just really hard to fathom you liking men all of a sudden. We had sex, you got off. And now you’re with Eddie and gay and I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He heaved a sigh and hauled her out to the parking lot where they were less likely to be heard.

“Fucking hell, Nance,” he huffed as they walked to his car. “You think I don’t realize how fucking messed up that is. I thought for a bit that maybe I liked both, because of what I felt for you. Because I did love you. I still do, for Christ’s sake.” He threw his arms in the air in frustration.

He tugged on his hair. “But the more I thought about us. Our relationship, I realized that I was just trying so hard to be what everyone wanted me to be.” He started waving his hands around as he tried to get his point across. “The perfect boy next door. But that isn’t me. I love theater and boys and not having to worry about who was fucking who and why. Because all that ‘King’ shit was exhausting as fuck.”

Nancy let out a low shuddering breath. “Okay. I’m sorry.” Steve scoffed. “No, I am. I mean it. You deserve to be happy and I don’t know why I’m still hung up on this.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Because you want me as your fall back in case shit goes down with Jonathan.”

“What?!” she squawked.

Suddenly everyone was staring at her because of her outburst. “That’s not true!” she whispered harshly, leaning forward.

“I’ve said it before and we both know it is, Nance,” Steve said, his face twisted in that same pained expression from when she couldn’t tell him she ever loved him. “You broke up with me right after our first go round with the monsters and then not even a full month later you were back with me. What happened, huh? Did Jonathan turn you down the first time and that’s why you came running back?”

Nancy crossed her arms and looked away.

Steve huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s it, isn’t it? You couldn’t even tell me you loved me at all after our fight at Tina’s Halloween party. You’re standing there getting mad it me for not loving you, but you’re the same. You’re exactly the same.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. “You’re right, Steve. You’re right about all of it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all I wanted from you,” he said, “an actual honest apology. Thank you.” Steve let out his own breath that he had been holding.

Nancy bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “Can we still be friends?” Her voice wobbled and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Steve pulled her into a hug and she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Of course we can.”

Steve looked up and saw Jonathan watching them. He let go of Nancy and held her at arms length. “You are a great person, Nancy Wheeler, but you’ve got think past your own needs, okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he said gently. “Now go. Jonathan is waiting for you.”

She looked over her shoulder and nodded. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Steve watched as she walked away, he could feel a part of his wounded heart heal, just a little.

It wasn’t enough. It might not ever be enough. But it was a start. He just wished it didn’t feel like a fucking Chutes and Ladders game.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

In order for Nancy to be a better person, she has to fight against her nature. Something that won't come easy.

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades @mugloversonly @y4r3luv

@greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

[johaerys-writes]

Awaiting those fem patrochilles headcanons like a dying rat. No pressure I would just love to hear about them in your style lol

Trust me anon I haven't forgotten about them!!! I can't stop thinking about them in fact afdgsh so here's a few HCs off the top of my head as a treat!

I've seen some folks around here calling fem!Patroclus Cleopatra (an inversion of Patroclus' name) so let's go with that! Achilles would be Achillea.

I like to imagine their story almost exactly as it would be in canon, the only thing changing would be them being girls and a couple things related to that. So Achillea is still destined for greatness and is the key to winning the Trojan War, Cleopatra was still sent to Phthia as a child because she accidentally killed a boy over dice. She probably wouldn't have been one of the suitors of Helen, but she would have still followed Achillea when she chose to go to Troy. Like canon Achilles and Patroclus, the two are openly affectionate with each other and it is a well known fact that their relationship is extremely close and somewhat exclusive (even though they’re still poly and sleep with other people, either separately or together). I haven't decided yet whether Achillea would have a child though, or with whom 🤔

Anyways, all that being said, I love thinking of Cleopatra as this big, buff lesbian that can bench press Achillea any day (and in fact does so, most days 🥵). Basically just think of them as that video of two girls in the gym where the one is doing hipthrusts while the other one is sitting on her lap, that's just 100% them 😩

Cleopatra is very good with her hands and she's basically the one everyone runs to for help fixing things, whether that's weaving or sewing or woodworking or horse harness/chariot repairs lol she does it all!! Meanwhile Achillea is the dreamy, creative one who has a great eye for art and fashion (and a great ear for music of course!)

Like canon Patroclus, Cleopatra is excellent with horses and has an army of doggos, she's the best huntress of the Achaean camp and has been able to tame even the wildest, most difficult stallions. Achillea has learnt a lot from her, even though she could never claim Cleopatra's expertise or her patience lol. She's way more adept at sailing, navigating and swimming (the two often go spearfishing together!)

Before the war, they both go to Skyros together to hide from the army, with Thetis' help. I love thinking that they stay there several months or maybe even years! They become besties with Deidameia and the other girls, and spend most days dancing, training, weaving, playing music, picking flowers and herbs in the woods, etc. It is so so idyllic.

When they finally get to Troy they are UNBEATABLE gosh just thinking of them going to battle together makes me feral!!! Braiding each other's hair in fierce, elaborate warrior braids and helping each other in their armour every morning, then riding their chariot to battle and slaughtering Trojans like nobody's business, true warrior QUEENS 😩 (they also do each other's war makeup before major battles, as a treat 😌)

This might be a little NSFW, but Cleopatra has the biggest, roundest boobas and the softest tummy and Achillea just loves lying on top of her after a long day, just using her gf's chest as a pillow while Cleopatra combs her fingers through her hair 🥹 Achillea has a more slender and sinewy build, almost androgynous, and has that uncanny whipcord strength that makes her a terror on the battlefield (but she still turns into the softest pile of mush when the two are alone hehe....)

They are the BIGGEST gossips and will just stay up late into the night talking about this or that person and laughing until they're dizzy 😂 they're usually the first to know whatever’s going down in the camp, and if they don't, Ajax and Antilochus are there to spill the tea (Briseis often joins them with her own gossip and stories, just picture the three of them chatting idly for hours on end while they repair armour or sew and embroider new dresses and cloaks etc)

That's it for now!! I'll be sure to revisit this if I think of more 👀

[kindestofkings]

dancing in the moonlight

josh jenkinson x guitarist!reader

about: reader's sitting room sessions are like acoustic covers she posts on youtube hope thats clear, also sooo many different faceclaims I hadn't it in me to keep the same lolll ENJOY

also! you know I buzz off including alll my favs in my smaus so enjoy 🤭

yourusername

liked by sarahjones and others

yourusername the last leg of love on tour has officially begun, somebody sedate me.

📷 @lloyddddddddddddddddd

view all other comments

harryfan1 noooo why cant you keep going forever ?

harryfan3 they already have this is like year 3 of this tour lol yourusername yeahh unfortunately rest is needed

harryfan2 you are the coolest member of the love band pass it on

fan1 will your sitting room sessions end till its over?

yourusername no acc going to keep doing them on the road ! <3

lloyddddddddddddddddd sickk one

yourusername

liked by harrystyles and others

yourusername home show babyyy (kinda Im from dublin) but omg Slane you were a mad experience!

view all other comments

harryfan1 haha was that last pic added in by accident ?

yourusername hahah no I needed the pic of sir styles, bag of cans IN HAND on my grid yourusername its gonna be my next tattoo

harrystyles 🤨🤨

yourusername nah come on look at the joy on your face, just a boy with his bag of cans xx

evehewson he didnt even swim just drank the cans

harrystyles enough of the lies #fakenews

harryfan2 I love how unserious she is with harry

sarahjones you own yellow !

inhalerdublin

liked by yourusername and others

inhalerdublin We’ll never be able to fully recover from the experience of playing Slane Castle yesterday. Thank you to @harrystyles for having us open for him in such a legendary place. And to every one of you who sang our songs back to us.

See you in November Ireland x

📸 @lewsvans

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inhalerfan1 inslayer at slayne castle

lewsvans just a small one

yourusername massive

harryfan1 same girl also in my inhaler era after them opening

yourusername

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

yourusername babe wake up a new sitting room session just dropped xx

todays tune has been stuck in my head since slane, check out the video for my jetlagged attempt of dublin in ecstasy <3

view all other comments

yourmam get your shoes of that couch young lady

yourusername 😧😧 sorry mammy

inhalerdublin we're honoured ❤️

harryfan1 you are both so talented and so hot

harryfan2 frrrr I dont know if I wanna be her or with her

inhalerfan1 did you meet the lads ?!

yourusername I did yes ! but I was acc at one of their first few gigs way back when so second time seeing them live 😎 inhalerfan1 wow I did not know you were an inhaler fan! I'm seeing them for the first time in paris later this year !! yourusername ah enjoy, the place where the whole world waits to come alive 😏 ryanmcmahon_15 obsessed much?

joshjenkinson_ worryingly good, please don't come for my job !

yourusername the man that you are that bridge is sick! p.s. I could never match your dance moves ryanmcmahon_15 those would be the infamous jenkinson knees yourusername mesmerising x

harryflorals

liked by harryfan1 and others

harryflorals harry featured in one of yourusername's sitting room sessions, which they recorded during a day off on tour! the premise of the series started out as just yourusername playing acoustic covers but has become a fan favourite and she's started having guests !

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harryfan1 no way what song did they sing??

harryflorals they sang in a week which is originally by Hozier x

harryfan2 so rogue of him but I love it

harryfan3 ughh casual harry my favourite harry

harryfan4 they sounded soooo good

harryfan1 what is their vibes? friends or can we start the ship? harryfan4 I think its strictly platonic ! she's been part of his band for ages now

yourusername posted to their story!

you can't see but major heart eyes

replies:

inhalerfan1 at who tho??? please be a josh girlie

joshjenkinson_ 😳😳

yourusername

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

yourusername an emotional day at the office today. never wanted to say goodbye to love on tour but I am so greatful for the experience.

massive thank to harrystyles for bringing me along on both tours, had so much fun <33

📷 @helenepambrun.photography @lloyddddddddddddddddd @anthonypham

view all other comments

harrystyles the best in the business

yourusername what are you doing?? get off your phone and get writing another album so we can go on tour again?!?! harryfan1 listen to the boss

bobbyskeetz inhaler x yourusername sitting room sesh now?

joshjenkinson_ she'd have to be not touring for that to happen bobbyskeetz not touring ? YOU JUST FINISHED? yourusername lol yeah about thattttt

sarahjones loved sharing this experience with you sister

yourusername wouldn't have been the same without you miss jones xxx

harryfan2 you were my favourite member of the love band !! will you ever be releasing your own music ?

yourusername thanks my love! at the moment no, I'm actually joining another band for their upcoming tour so will be busy with that. buttt the sitting room sessions will continue <33

harryfan2 pity but all fun stuff! what band? yourusername all will be revealed🤫

inhalerfan1 the inhaler boys do be in her comments a lot these days..

joshjenkinson_ posted to their story! (private)

studying, taking notes

replies:

yourusername exCUSE me I think you'll find you're the rockstar, with all the groupies

↳ i'm not the one on two international tours in one year tho ?? am I?

↳ yourusername lol fair but as the president of the josh fanclub, I suggest you should do that x

elijahhewson fact: guitarist and singer is a better couple

yourusername

liked by bedfordanes and others

yourusername first of all selling pEtROL. joining the inventors of tumblr on the next of their tour so I'm returning to the tumblr aesthetic (method playing?)

see all you emos at the 1975 still... at their very best, but until then I'll leave you with a sitting room sesh (bedroom ed 😏 ) xx

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harryfan1 do you ever rest???

the1975 tour just got a whole lot more fun !

1975fan1 no way im so excited, shes so hot

inhalerfan1 is the sitting room sesh a emo classic?

yourusername you know it, my fav the 1975 song change your ticket ! trumanblack fired for defamation x yourusername its all quite meta 🤨

1975fanupdates

liked by 1975fan and others

1975fanupdates obsessed with yourusername ever since my 1975 show. how is someone so cool and pretty??? living rent free

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1975fan1 no cause Im the EXACT same, shes such a good guitarist aswell

1975fan2 it must be happening at every show lol. even though shes at the back matty kept trying to get the attention back on him

1975fanupdates lmao I cant

harryfan1 awh I miss her!! her boyf is soo lucky

1975fan1 noo she has a boyfriend thats heartbreaking news, who is it? harryfan1 Im not sure! there was just a bang at the start of her last sitting room sesh and she said sorry my boyfriend keeps hitting his head off my low door frame 😭😭

yourusername posted to their story!

hot.

replies:

joshjenkinson_ 2 days was not enough

↳ babyyyy I know this is the worst

1975fan1 lost my wife to a man 😭 😭 😭😭

inhalerfan1 IS THAT JOSH!!!!!!!!

ryanmcmahon_15 those infamous jenkinson knees

joshjenkinson_ (private)

liked by yourusername and others

joshjenkinson_ she really buzzes off a good windowsill

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yourusername YOU GOTTA SLIDE OUT THE WINDOWWWWW elijahhewson 🎤?

elijahhewson ...... yourusername ........ elijahhewson slideeee yourusername yayayayyyy

bobbyskeetz day 40000 of asking for a inhaler sitting room sesh

yourusername yeah you and like 3 other people, im overwhelmed

yourusername

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

yourusername yeah no big deal just about to drop a sitting room session where I sing mazzy star's fade into you with my music crush THE julien baker. 😀😀😀 feeling so normal about this

go watch it, we had a lot of fun!

view all other comments

yourusername also im putting more into the production of these so hopefully the sound and visual quality increase is a nice treat for y'all <33

julienrbaker spends 2 days in memphis and is saying y'all..

yourusername inner cowgirl was unleashed, dont force her back into the box 🤠

1975fan1 wow not my two celeb crushes together...

yourusername im weak that you're considering me a celeb

phoebebridgers take me next please

yourusername omg if I must 😳🤭

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername boyfriend reveal or the next guest on sitting room sessions? you decide what you wanna focus on xx

terrifying take of lana del rey's let the light in, we both love to hide behind guitars so be gentle x

view all other comments

harryfan1 omg this is so so so so beautiful

inhalerfan1 josh's vocals need to be louder next album/tour !! boy can sing

elijahhewson im gonna focus on how you stole my man

yourusername just cause you’re petty that you haven't been on a sitting room sesh yet xx inhalerfan1 PLEASE have him on I beg

bobbyskeetz wtf has a guy got to do to get invited to a session, sleep with you?

joshjenkinson_ you're getting a box yourusername gross robert thanks for the nightmare fuel

harrystyles this is my favourite one yet x

yourusername too kind H, such a softie for romance

inhalerfan2 omg they're dating 😭 😭 😭 😭 such a hot couple 😭 😭 😭

1975fanupdates

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

1975fanupdates its yourusername's life and we're just living in it. She came in at 60th on this list, slayed so hard

view all other comments

yn'swife I say thats my wife and Im proud

inhalerfan1 bless josh in his supportive era <3

1975fan1 she needs to go on her own tour immediately

(liked by joshjenkinson_ and others)

yourusername

liked by julienrbaker and others

yourusername this sitting room session is evidence for how annoying bobbyskeetz can be! ALL the boys of inhaler joined me in my newww (😏) sitting room for a chaos cover of dreams by the cranberries <3

p.s. thought this photo was giving yay fun! when I took it but on reflection it looks like eli and bobby are making fun of me 🤨

view all other comments

inhalerfan1 miss thank you for delivering all this inhaler content, the drought has been real!

yourusername I got you gorgeous xx

bobbyskeetz I prefer the term persistent actually

yourusername yeah and I prefer a headache free existence but we cant all get what we want xx joshjenkinson_ thought management told yous to be nicer online... yourusername its SOO hard tho inhalerfan2 its giving such sibling energy lol

elijahhewson stop the lies #falsenarrative

ryanmcmahon_15 in a band of bullies, thanks for having us tho !!

harryfan1 you're making me an inhaler fan with all this lol

FINISHED

josh girles how did I do??? love making this one

[thephooka]

How we got here from there

Or, the long journey of a longform long-running webcomic about a long man with long wings.

In the spirit of @feathernotes and @phantomarine who have been talking about just starting your webcomic and not worrying about being "ready", I was inspired to do a post about White Noise's origin! I'm a little limited by the fact that I either left behind or destroyed a lot of the art I have from prior to 2009, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Cringe Truth below the cut!

The Cringe Truth of White Noise is that it has its roots in a Pokemon x Yu Yu Hakusho x self-insert(s) roleplay thread I used to do with an internet friend I made on Neopets guild forums way back in 2002-ish. We would come home from school every day and RP over AIM, and then when we had to get offline, whoever left first would email the other one, and we would continue via email until we were back on AIM at the same time.

Liya was my self insert.

This isn't even remotely the earliest art of her, it's just the earliest I have on hand. I was drawing her for almost a decade by the time I drew this one. Imagine the earlier drawings as being like I traced over Sailor Moon characters that I printed out from deviantART and gave them a brown ponytail.

The funny thing is Liya really hasn't changed much from her original form! I also had loose brown curls that I kept in a ponytail 24/7 to the point that it showed when I had it down (which is why her hair is 'dented' like that). I did it because I was trans and didn't know it; she does it because she hasn't realized she can just cut it off and be butch yet.

Other characters that date back from this time period: Yoshi (originally an InuYasha/Rurouni Kenshin pastiche), Hawk (I don't remember when he got wings but they were white at first), Numair (named after the Tamora Pierce character and filling a Koenma kind of role), Helly (sort of--I had an elf character named Kamui who had the same temperament, and he was eventually transmuted into Helly) and...Kurogane.

I've never named Kurogane but he appears in the background of the comic a few times, as my own personal inside joke.

Vlad came along somewhere between this RP period and planning the comic, but I can't remember when or why. I don't have drawings from that time (~2004?) but he was the first character I drew when I got a tablet for the first time.

Everyone else came along later when I started actually planning out the comic.

All this said: the reason I started White Noise as a weekly webcomic is because I wanted to learn to draw better.

At the time I was in college majoring in animation, but I didn't feel like I was learning very much at all (the program was badly structured; I had more art history classes than anything else. It was a mess.) I was also working nights in order to feed myself, and so had a lot of downtime. I had this story rattling around in my head from my RP days, so I figured, why not just give it a go?

For posterity here's a photo of a chapter 1 panel in progress, back in 2011 with my typical college diet in the bg:

(Chapter 1 was originally pencil on paper, scanned in and colored in PS. I later re-drew it to make it fully digital to match with the rest of the comic.)

There's been a lot of talking about not waiting until you're 'ready' to start a webcomic, and I agree with that sentiment. Try framing it like this: making a comic every week for years and years will improve your art way more than any prep work you can do before starting the comic. It's like learning to swim. You can read about swimming all you want, but you're not going to really figure it out until you do it. If your early comics are bad, well, that's normal. It used to be an expected part of doing webcomics; I blame the shift into expecting webcomics to be polished from start to finish partly on commercialization in the space, but that's an angry rant for another time.

With this background, here's the collage I posted for WN's 10 year anniversary back in 2021:

And now we're here.

So do your webcomic. Put it on ComicFury or make a janky little site for it. Be okay with imperfect pages and be prepared to shout into the void for a while. Even if it's always a hobby, if it never makes you a dime or wins you any awards--that's fine! You'll be a lot happier if you learn not to worry about that stuff, and just make something that will help you grow and make you happy. We could do with a lot more work like that in the world imo.

[get-loved-123]

My favorite headcannons in my Stranger Things Fic:

Will hates that El's birthday is celebrated on November 6th (she picked it), but then he forgets that it's the day he goes missing so he moves on. She only picked that date because it's usually seen as bad so she wanted to make him happy

Back in California, Will and El used to split the time they spent with Sean. Will gets Monday and Tuesday, El gets Thursday and Friday, and he hangs out with both on Wednesdays. On the weekends, he spends time with Argyle.

Furthermore, Sean met them because he threw a book at Will's head. He was aiming for Angela, but she dodged it. He got two weeks' detention and met them after Argyle did. Will fell for him the same day he got hit.

Eleven likes to be called Jane more than "El" but she keeps it as a nickname.

Mike spent a whole day at Max's house complaining about how much he dislikes Sean.

Sean's real birth name is Ignacio De La Cruz. His birth mother is white Dominican and his biological dad is Afro-Dominican. His mother was shot four times because she broke into the lab repeatedly to get him back. She's alive, lives in Indianapolis, and is still looking for him.

Angela and Sean used to be friends but that was before he was outed. El and Will know nothing about this story.

Sean knows Spanish but no one knows how. In fact, no one in the adopted family taught him Spanish. He started speaking it one day and they just went along with it.

Dr. Roseanne, their therapist, believes that Sean and El are on the neurodivergent spectrum. They both have varying severities of ADHD, autism, BPD, PTSD, depression, and anxiety. She knows not to diagnose them just yet.

Sean would identify as genderfluid if he grew up in 2024.

Ana Maria was arrested because Sean and Mateo had found a dead body in their backyard and had moved it. She confessed to killing the man and got the charges dropped from her brothers.

The man died form heroin overdose

Eleven gets irregular periods. Jonathan was there when she got her first one. She was terrified.

Eleven and Will were taught how to surf by Argyle. Jonathan would take videos of them while Sean suntanned (he doesn't need to tan at all but he can't swim).

Elliot calls Max daily to complain about Lucas's gentle and unbearable physical affection. She laughs every time.

Erica loves Lucas. And she tells him every night before she goes off to bed. (She's terrified of losing him after Vecna)

Erica and Melanie are very close and do each other's hair.

Will, Eleven, and Mike go to NYU. Sean goes to Cal U School of Arts. Max enters the workforce and become a tattoo apprentice. Dustin and Lucas get into Perdue. Elliot and Melanie join them a year later.

Steve has been in love with Jonathan since he punched him back in S1.

The Guerreros are incredibly rich. Their dad owns the Sufer Boy Pizza Franchise, and Argyle just likes to smoke weed and make pizza.

Their majors are Double Major in Fine Arts & Art History (Will); Double Major in Business & English (Mike); Fashion Design (Eleven); Double Major in Theater Arts & Art History (Sean); Architectural Science (Lucas); Computer Science (Dustin); Sports and Physical Therapy (Elliot); Writing and Journalism (Melanie)

Suzie becomes ex-Mormon

[headfullof-ideas]

All right, i decided on a whim to share a rough reference i use in my head of what teenage Ant looks like. Depending on what story or AU I’m writing a teenage Ant for, his appearance changes, but for this one we’ll say it’s my ‘canon’ version of him. Rather, the teenage Ant I have in my head following my internal interpretation of the canon timeline as it takes forever for new seasons to come out, but that I make sure to update as we get new seasons. Also involving a lot of my headcanons for him, most of which explain certain things about either his appearance or mental health, cause our boy is TRAUMATIZED.

Ant is about sixteen to seventeen here, the typical age for teenage main heroes. Except he has already been through being the main hero and is a little sick of it. Or maybe a lot sick of it. A few years prior to where he is in the drawing, the prophecy ends. After defeating the Monumentials and saving the earth from what would have been a devastating rampage, Ant tried to pretend that everything was okay and normal for a while. You know, blocking all of his trauma and acting like nothing’s wrong as is the norm from teenage protagonists. After a while though, Ant realizes that his lifestyle was never really normal to begin with. Ant has a bit of a metal breakdown, not on par with the one Alpheus had or anything, but he has a meltdown when trying to go back to his normal life fails and he realizes he wants a break from everything. From all the families missions and all the adrenaline they experience on a weekly basis and all the danger he hasn’t realized he’s experienced for a majority of his childhood. Fontaine feels guilty for being so proud of her little brother wanting to do normal, not-submarine things, and so Ant starts his own little journey of doing things beyond the titanium hull of the Aronnax.

Now that I’ve gotten the mini bio, or whatever that was, done, time for the headcanons!

- Ant joined his sister in begging their parents to let them try land school, and ultimately Kaiko and Will caved, due to everything the family had just been through. Fontaine went straight to high school while Ant did a year of middle school due to age before moving to high school, with both kids using Kaiko’s maiden name at Ants request. This was because while Ant didn’t hate being a Nekton and was proud of his name, he didn’t want to attract any sort of attention at all. Fontaine wasn’t immediately thrilled by it, but didn’t complain either.

- Ant ended up growing his hair out a bit, and started wearing a beanie as well. He’d alternate how he wore his hair, sometimes keeping it back but usually having it in a sort of half-up half-down style. Mostly because he didn’t want to try to hard with his appearance, and wanted to try something a little different to what he used to wear all the time. (I usually draw adult Ant with longer hair too)

- Ant got his ears pierced when he was fifteen, deciding on a whim that he wanted to. Fontaine was the one who ultimately took him, leaping at the opportunity. He still wears his communicator all the time, but Fontaine convinced him to try a few other bracelets as well.

- After Ants meltdown, he decided to try and separate himself from most of his childhood as much as possible. Not necessarily in a negative way, but more in a manner of trying to find stuff outside of submarine life. Ant felt he didn’t have too many hobbies outside of anything that came in handy with working and living on a submarine, and so started trying out all sorts of activities to find other things he liked to do. This was another thing Fontaine was eager to jump on board with. He still goes out in the Shadow Knight, and he still loves swimming and working on the Aronnax with Kaiko, but he doesn’t spend nearly as much time doing these things as he did when he was younger.

- Another aspect about Ant trying to branch away from submarine life is his clothing. He didn’t wear casual clothes too much as a kid, almost always wearing a wetsuit. As an older teenager, Ant doesn’t wear his wetsuit too much anymore. He has one, and he does use it, but not nearly as often as a kid. He tries to focus on finding a style he likes, which Fontaine is also ecstatic about. Doesn’t always agree with what he picks out, but she’s super excited nonetheless

-As Ant gets older, he starts to develop some more of Kaiko’s features. Ant always felt, to me, like someone where you knew he was Kaiko and Wills kid, but you never saw any similarities until you put him right in between his parents. As Ant gets older though, he starts to lose baby fat and looks a little more discernibly like his parents, especially Kaiko whom he subtly looks more like in regard to facial structure. (Fontaine is, like, a perfect blend of her parents in my opinion. Ant somehow looks exactly like and nothing like either of his parents in the show)

- Ant starts to develop a bit of muscle as a teenager. He’s not Will, and never does get that muscular, but he’s a teenage boy and that sort of thing just tends to happen to teenage boys. He’s still fairly active as well, which helps. His hair also gets a bit thicker because of puberty, and a tiny bit wavy. Not enough to be actually noticeably though, at least until it gets humid out.

- Ant didn’t grow too much between the ages of twelve and fourteen, but then started shooting straight up at fifteen. Will jokes that it’s all the growth spurts he missed in his early teenage years hitting him all at once. This however leads to Ants usual perfect balance due to life on sea being royally screwed up as his center of balance continues to change makes him abnormally clumsy over the next few years until he stops growing so fast at eighteen/nineteen. Being so clumsy leads to a few accidents, like the one that gave him a scar in his eyebrow. Ant usually doesn’t tell people how he got the scar, cause it’s embarrassing to him after spending so long on the ocean. During a summer between school years, the Nektons were on the Aronnax, and Kaiko just gently tipped the Aronnax into a dive. Nothing Ant shouldn’t have been unable to adjust to with ease. Instead, he slid on the floor, lost his balance, and went tumbling down the hall and crashing into a random room with an unfortunate door open where he wound up twisting his ankle, breaking his nose, and cutting his eyebrow deep enough to scar.

- In line with the prior note, Ant has some scars from all the adventures his family has been on. Fontaine does as well, and these only drive home how desperately they want to experience some sort of normalcy, despite still loving their life on the Aronnax.

- Ants clothing style tends to reflect his mental state; how well he’s doing, if anything’s bothering him, that sort of thing.

I’m sure i have plenty other headcanons, but my brain’s struggling to focus on anything new, so here ya go.

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Two - Baggage

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - As you continue to train Eddie, words are exchanged. Your life is in shambles and he only adds to it.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

12.1K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: This story has been lingering in my mind and it took me so long to write this chapter because I want to do it right and I had the worst writer's block but now I am flooded with inspiration. Pls let me know how you feel about it so far

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The biting cold of the morning nipped at your skin, little pins and needles feeling like they were burying themselves there.  The streets were glimmering with puddles, the rain from the night before leaving them behind and the moody clouds still lingering in the sky.  No matter how long you’d lived in Hawkins the changing of the seasons would always sneak up on you like an unwelcome visitor.  Gone were the days of walking around downtown with an iced coffee on your day off, the summer sun beaming down and flowers in full bloom while the trees were leafy and lush.  No more lounging around on a bench outside of the college to complete a few assignments under the shade of a large oak tree in desperate need of a change of scenery in comparison to your shitty apartment.  At least not until next Spring.  

Hawkins Community College was a historical building that used to serve as the town hall but has since evolved into the college after the council elected to have the town hall relocated to a more practical location.  The building was settled just south of downtown and was deemed ‘too out of the way’.  Its bricks were a faded brown, weathered down over the years and not a high enough priority to keep maintained, though the sidewalks were freshly paved and the grass was as green as ever, the morning dew blanketing over it like a fresh coat of paint.  The campus wasn’t very large seeing as Hawkins’ population wasn’t very impressive and the majority of its residents would travel elsewhere for college. 

The front steps of the building were scuffed and scattered with various footprints from students and teachers who walked with purpose to their destination.  On the very top step, front and center sat a disoriented Dustin Henderson, face scrunched up in perplexity.  Though he was still attending Hawkins High as a current sophomore, he enlisted himself in one of the programs offered where students could take classes at Hawkins Community for college credits.  Fingers desperately ruffling through the several papers in his dense binder, he argued with his mother while his phone was clutched in the other hand on speaker.  Something about “I swear it was on the kitchen counter!” followed by the word ‘mom’ being shouted into the phone repeatedly as if it would solve his dilemma.  When she apologetically let him know that there was no such mystery item, he only cursed as he facepalmed, ending the call with a defeated “Okay, love you.  Bye.”  

A heavy sigh escaped the boy as he slapped the binder onto the step beside him, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, agitated.  Dustin was ironically your only college friend, not a best friend but you knew him well enough to gather that he’d definitely left his assignment at home and that this was going to dictate his mood for the entire day.  His eyes resembled emeralds as his focus shifted from his dirty sneakers up to you, a hint of excitement swimming in the deep green of his irises.  

“Rough morning?” You suggest with a sympathetic smile.  He bites his lip in frustration as if he’s holding back every distressed thought racing through his head.

“Mhmm.” He squeaks, still refraining from word vomiting all over your peaceful morning, hands now resting on his denim covered knees.  

“You forgot your essay, didn’t you?” You know you’ve poked the bear but you could feel how anxious he was to blow up about everything that went wrong that morning leading up to this moment and who were you to deny him?  Henderson had a special place nestled in the corner of your heart, always loud and boisterous but also kind and delightful to be around.  

He sucked in a breath before releasing every word that was prodding his brain.  “All because my mom had to clean the goddamn house!  She was all ‘Dusty, this is why we don’t leave our things around!’” He mocks his mothers voice with a high pitch, face twisting in dramatics.  “I left it right on the counter where I could grab it on my way out but apparently, a ten page essay WITH MY NAME ON IT IN BIG BOLD LETTERS was thrown in the garbage.  On its way to a landfill.  Gone.”  His shoulders tensed and all you could offer was a supportive hand to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Dustin.”  You say carefully, the kid was a ticking time bomb sometimes.  He waved you off, his way of saying ‘don’t worry about it’.  

“And THEN, fucking Will made the dumbest move last night at our campaign.  Completely tanked the whole thing.”  His hands were thrown up in misery as he recalled the memory.  “Eddie had the whole thing set up perfectly, we’ve been playing this campaign for weeks!”  Dustin’s eyes shifted back and forth erratically as the whole thing played out in his mind, your eyes rolled at the mention of the metalhead.  “Oh he was so pissed.  You shoulda seen him, he was throwing dice, screaming at Will, screaming at Mike, screaming at ME!  I finally talked him off the ledge but shit, he was revved up.”

Eddie hosted their DND club a majority of the time per Dustin and from what he tells you about those nights, Eddie is always a sadistic maniac.  Dustin also swears that he’s like his big brother, next in line to King Steve although Steve took on more of a dad role.  There was no way to imagine Eddie embodying the role of a big brother let alone displaying any kind of pleasant behavior.  You cringed at the mere idea of him, knowing you’d have to endure him at work this evening.

Dustin continued his rant passionately.  “And I’m sorry, I know you hate when I bring up Eddie for whatever reason but dude was not having it.  My special edition dice are now lost in the abyss underneath his couch.”  You shake your head in disapproval.  “I told him I’d let it slide though cause he said he’d let me go with him to a concert.” He concludes with a shrug.

At this you nudge the boy’s shoulder, disappointed.  “Dustin!  He can’t bribe his way out of losing your dice after chucking them when he has a temper tantrum!  If those dice are important to you then you need to stand your ground.”  You instruct him.

He lets out a long sigh before responding.  “Socks, respectfully, this is how our friendship with Eddie works.  We piss each other off and then we move on.  Like a few weeks ago, he kept making sexual sounds while I was on the phone with my mom so I hid his shoes from him after he got really stoned.”  At this you can’t help but release a laugh.  

“Good on you, Henderson.” You praise.  “I guess I won’t need to step in when I see him at work later then.  Sounds like you can handle yourself.”  You begin pulling your binder from your bag in preparation for class.  

Dustin shakes his head in confusion, waving his arms in front of him like he’s missing a piece of the puzzle.  “Hold up, Eddie’s a barista now?”  His tone is humorous, on the brink of cackling.  

“Uh huh.”  You answer nonchalantly while opening your binder and shuffling through a few papers, making a note in your planner for some homework you just remembered off the top of your head.  “And our dear Stevie knew about it before me and just decided it’d be a good idea to see my reaction when he walked in the door for his first shift yesterday.”  You chew on your pen as you attempt to remember any other assignments you may have forgotten to write down.  

“Eddie?  Eddie Munson?  Metalhead, former drug dealer, thought it would be funny to piss in Steve’s beer, Eddie Munson?  That Eddie?”  Dustin gapes at you in disbelief to which you nod.  “I’m sorry but–there’s no fucking way!  A barista?  He doesn’t even drink coffee, he hates trendy little cafes, and there’s no goddamn way he would apply for a job where both you AND Steve work.  Sounds like his own personal hell.”  The boy is laughing, clutching his stomach.  

You hang your head and giggle along with him.  As awful as the situation was, it did sound ridiculous enough to laugh.  “I thought the same thing, Dusty.  The universe just has it out for us.” You refer to you and Steve.  As much as you had a rivalry with Eddie, Steve had his own beef with the guy.  This posed as an issue seeing as Steve practically mothered Lucas, Mike, Will, Dustin, Max, and El ever since he was in high school when he dated Nancy Wheeler.  The way Eddie and Steve fought resembled a divorced couple exchanging their kids in a Walmart parking lot.  And to Steve’s disadvantage, Eddie always ended up at the notorious parties he threw since one of the kids always ended up blabbing after he distinctly told them not to.  It always put a damper on your night when he showed up, giving you flashbacks to that one party years ago that you swore you’d forget about but it still lingered in the back of your mind.  

“I hope you know this means that everyone’s going to be placing bets on who ends up dead first.”  Dustin raises a brow at you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, shaking it playfully.

Standing up as classes were about to start, you shot him a glare.  “I can definitely take him.”  You state, holding your hand out to help him up.  He takes it and shrugs, a grin on his face that tells you ‘I don’t know about that’.  “Dustin.  Please don’t tell me you think Eddie is going to get to me.”  You scoff as he opens the heavy metal door leading into the building, the hinges creaking.  

His face indicates that he’s bouncing a thought around before answering.  “Well…” he begins.  “You don’t know what he’s capable of.  The guy is a menace.  He can play games for as long as he needs to.”  He further explains.  

“Okay, you know what?  I’m done talking about some asshole who doesn’t even matter to me.”  You decide, the mostly vacant hallways echoing your footsteps as you step into the heated building. 

“Ugh, it’s like having three parents who don’t get along.  I know Eddie is a lot but maybe if you, I dunno, hung out with him you’d realize he’s actually also really cool.”  Dustin has the audacity to suggest.

Huffing out a breath and holding your binder to your chest, you give him your final piece of mind.  “Munson is never going to even get the time of day out of me let alone a besties hangout sesh.”  You snap bitterly.  Dustin’s hands raise in surrender, you’re done with this conversation and he knows better than to try and change your mind.  

“Anyway…” he sighs, dropping his shoulders while you both make your way through the beige halls.  “Max and Lucas are back together again.”  He nudges your shoulder with his, causing you to sway as you walk.  The couple were always on again, off again.  One week Lucas would do something dumb like stand her up by accident to go to the mall with Mike and another Max would invalidate his feelings.  It was something they claimed they were working out but after every breakup, everyone always reacted with an eye roll, knowing full well that the routine would repeat itself.  You truly did root for them but if they were going to keep hurting each other, there was no reason for them to continue the relationship.  

Glancing at Dustin, your face tells him that you’re not amused.  “Tell me something new, Henderson.”  You deadpan.  He nods, exhaling as he racks his brain.

“Holy shit!”  He sounds as if he’d just had a revelation.  “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!”  His feet stomp on the linoleum floors in excitement, sneakers squeaking against the surface.  “But you have to PROMISE not to tell anyone.”  A finger is pointed at you in warning as you nod for him to continue.  Dustin was very bad at keeping secrets.  “Steve has a girlfriend.”  He chirps.  

Stopping dead in your tracks, shoes screeching against the floor, your eyes widen.  Steve told you everything so if Dustin’s accusations were true you were going to have some words for him for not telling you.  “Who?!”  You inquire, full attention on the curly headed boy.  “You’re lying, Steve would’ve told me!”  You whine like a child.

“That’s the thing, he hasn’t told anyone.  I saw some girl getting out of his car the other night in the mall parking lot.  I didn’t get a good look at who it was cause it happened so fast.”  He explains.

Your excitement drops at his words.  “Dustin, that doesn’t mean he has a girlfriend, that means he’s messing around, he does it all the time.” You remind him of his reputation as King Steve.

“Well pardon me for being an optimist.”  He sasses you, the two of you approaching the class.  

“You’re really bad at gossiping.”  You finish before stepping into the room, leaving him offended in the hallway.  

–

Class was as bland as ever, your professor, Mr. Randall lectured about marketing the whole two and a half hours and you nearly fell asleep six times, Dustin jabbing the eraser end of his pencil into your side each time you started slouching as he caught up on his calculus homework.  The closer to the evening it got, the more on edge you grew knowing you wouldn’t get to work the peaceful closing shift you were once used to but instead suffer a stress-inducing nightmare while training the local terror of Hawkins.  Life sucked all the way around at the moment.

Bidding Dustin a ‘see you later’ while you were walking in sync just outside the building where you always parted, he flashed you a grin before begging you to snap him a photo of Eddie at work to send it to him later.  More than likely for blackmail reasons for the next time they were pissing each other off.  Their relationship was something you couldn’t quite get a grasp on however you didn’t attempt to even understand it past the fact that for some reason Dustin admired the man child as well as despised him sometimes in that brotherly way.  

“Dustin, fuck off.”  You tell him with a playful tone.  

“What!?  You don’t even like the guy.  I’d venture to even say that this would be benefiting you in the long run.”  He clasps his hands together in front of him in a pleading motion but you don’t seem to budge which his face falls at.  

“I don’t need to be involved in your little war, I have my own!”  A dramatic wave of your arms is enough to stop him from prodding.  

With that you departed from the campus and headed straight to downtown a few hours shy of your shift to lounge around and chat with Robin.  It was either that or go back to your shitty apartment and sit in the freezing stale air, at least this way you could revel in the warmth of the shop and sip on a hot chocolate which happened to be your favorite and the only hot drink you would ever order.  Every other option had to be iced or it was a no go.  

It was around two in the afternoon so there was time to be killed until five.  You figured you’d grab your hot chocolate, gossip with Robin and Steve for a little, maybe work on some assignments, and then take a little walk through the park at the center of the square, a solid plan.  The morning chill was long gone and it was now a tad warmer with the sun sitting high in the sky.  The sidewalks were vacant since everyone was either at work or still in school which was a plus in your book, you liked to keep to yourself and found it especially annoying when you had to stop to interact with random patrons and were expected to indulge in stupid small talk that was lost on you the second you walked away.

A thirty minute walk later and you’d finally reached The Under-Ground, the smell of espresso already invading your nose before you even stepped into the building.  As you reached for the metal handle, the door had already swung open with the bell chiming above it, a rushed Joyce Byers stumbling out with two full cup holders of hot coffees nearly flying out of her hands, eyes panicked and a startled gasp escaping her.  

She mumbles your name with a nervous grin, her nose tinted pink from the fall air.  “So sorry!  I didn’t mean to run you over–I just–I was in such a hurry.  I forgot to get the coffee for a staff meeting.”  She further explains apologetically as she gestures with a tilt of her head to Melvald’s.  

Your expression softens, Joyce was always the sweetest person you’d ever met and she was a regular at the shop.  She was one person you didn’t mind engaging in small talk with because she was genuinely interested in your answers and took the initiative to further the conversation, asking how things were and telling you to let her know if you ever needed anything.  You never took her up on the offer, there was no reason to bother her.  Joyce was somewhat of a mother figure but in a quiet manner and you were so grateful whenever she graced you with her presence.  Her boys were well mannered too, she’d done an amazing job raising them as a single mom.  Obviously you’d hung out with Will since Steve was the designated neighborhood mom and that granted you rights to the movie nights, pool parties, and just about anything that Steve hosted which meant all the kids were there too.  Will was a sweet kid, he was shy at first but an absolute menace once he was comfortable enough.  

For some reason you had a connection with him as well as Joyce, they were like family just not by blood.  Will had always comforted you if things ever felt off.  If no one else in the group noticed your shift in mood, Will did and he would approach it graciously, silently nodding at you to ask if you were okay.  From there you would communicate through your eyes and he’d gather what you were feeling from that alone.  It was like having telepathy and somehow you would both silently step out from whatever scene you were in the middle of.  If it was at Steve’s, the two of you would perch yourselves on the front steps and you would just let him know you weren’t feeling that great mentally.  The conversation really wouldn’t go further than that but it didn’t need to, he was just there for you and you for him.  It worked both ways, if Will looked particularly lonely you would nod your head toward the door and you’d both meet outside.  Sometimes he’d hint that he found it annoying how clingy El and Mike were but you knew it meant that he was sick to his stomach that his best friend and his crush were basically making out on top of him.  Jonathan had always made it a point to bring you to the side and thank you for providing that support to his brother and that it meant a lot to him.  You’d always offer a small smile in return.  The Byers held a special place in your heart, they were so effortlessly nice just because.  They had no ulterior motive, just the intention to be good people.  

Taking in Joyce’s disoriented demeanor, you shake your head and help her to steady a leaning coffee that almost escaped the cup holder.  “That’s okay, I almost crashed into you.”  You tell her.

“No, that was my fault!  I really wanna catch up with you but I have to go!”  She says rather quickly, worried as she begins to scurry back to Melvald’s.  Telling her you’ll have to catch up soon over coffee and that she knows where to find you, she agrees and hurries into the store.  You can’t help letting out a small giggle at her antics.

Finally sauntering into The Under-Ground, the warmth wraps around you like a cozy cocoon, something that was all too unfamiliar at this stage in your life given the circumstances of your apartment where you were meant to spend most of your time but did everything in your power to stay away from.  You welcomed the hot air like a big hug, eyes shutting in content with a deep sigh.  The tables are empty save for one in the very corner where a businessman sipped on a latte while putting together a powerpoint on his laptop.  Steve leaned against the counter scrolling away until he felt your gaze on him, raising his brows in expectancy.

“You’re here early…”  He points out. 

Irritably, you set your bag on one of the tables before making your way over to the register.  “So what you’re saying is, you’re not happy to see me, Stevie?”  You ask with mock hurt.

Steve scoffs as he stands on the opposite side of the register as if to ring you up.  “You know that’s not what I mean.”  He explains.  “I mean, you seem to be coming in earlier and earlier.  Can’t get enough of me?”  A wink is offered your way.  

You gag at this, painting disgust on your features.  “No offense but you’re not my type and I think you know that by now.”  You joke.  The chances of you and Steve getting together were as great as the chances of him and Robin getting together, zero.  And it was mutual but you had this ongoing joke.  “Now can you please make  me a hot chocolate?”  You request with a pout.  “Pleeeeease.”  You add, swaying back and forth like a child asking their mother for candy.

All you receive in return is an eye roll as he begrudgingly obliges and spins on his heels to prepare the drink.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”  You tell him in an annoyingly high pitched voice.  

“Whatever, SOCKS.”  He pronounces the nickname loudly, the businessman in the corner momentarily looking up at him in displeasure.  You give Steve a glare while taking a seat at your chosen table in the book corner, mouthing his words, mocking him with a dramatic facial expression.  

Shortly after taking a seat, Robin emerges from the back and claims the chair next to you silently, her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail on top of her head, face indicating business.  “You see, Steve was given one job and that was to ask you how last night went with Munson but clearly he was incapable of even the smallest task.”  She rants.  “So here I am.  Asking.  How did it go?  Is he still alive?”  She pushes, crossing her arms while awaiting an answer.  

Raising a brow at her, you continue pulling out your laptop as planned.  “I’m only gonna say this once.”  You affirm.  Steve’s ears perk up as he rushes over while struggling to fit the lid onto your hot chocolate, face twisted in concentration as he approaches the table.  “He’s the actual spawn of the devil and I have contemplated quitting–”  Robin goes to interrupt you before you hold up a finger, finishing your thoughts.  “But I will not give him that power and I’m going to keep working and will only talk to him when absolutely necessary.  I’m also going to forever hold a grudge against Steve for even letting Munson hear the nickname ‘Socks’.  My tranquil closing time has become my own private hell, thanks Steve.”  You ramble.  “Also, yes.  He’s still very much alive, unfortunately.”  You say in monotone.

Steve looks taken back, a hand flying up over his heart in surprise, temporarily giving up on securing the lid of your drink.  “Thanks, Steve???  I didn’t personally hire him!  I admit I slipped up on the name but give me a break here.”  He whines.

You reach for the hot chocolate, making grabby hands as you frown at a distraught Steve, hoping he’ll at least nudge the cup toward your reach.  He throws his hands up in the air with a scoff.  “Socks, I didn’t mean to rile you up by not telling you he got hired, okay?!  I made a dumb decision thinking it would be better for you and it bit me in the ass.  I’m sorry.”  In usual Steve fashion he stares at you with giant pleading eyes, his long lashes blinking at you while his lips pout, all pretty and pink as if he were a Barbie doll.  

“Really, Steve?”  Robin mocks, a smirk pulling at her lips.  

You finally pipe up, still reaching for the drink across the table.  “Steve, I’ll forgive you if you hand me my drink.”  You bargain, tongue darting out in concentration as you inch your fingers toward the chocolatey goodness hidden in a paper cup.  Steve snatches it up and pushes it into your hands, the warmth of the beverage consuming your palms.  The lid is still barely sitting on top, you gently pull it off to allow it to cool down.  

Triumphantly, Steve strolls back behind the counter.  “So we’re good?  I’m free of my mistake?”  He shouts to you.  You and Robin share a look, her attempting to take a sip of your hot chocolate only to burn her tongue, a series of huffing noises leaving her as he waves her hands up and down in front of her mouth. 

“Hoth, hoth, hoth.”  She lisps.  

You offer Steve a thumbs up from across the room while shaking your head at Robin.  “All good, Stevie.  Until the next time you cross me.”  You half joke.  “Robin, it’s hot chocolate.  Hot.”  You remind her as she pinches her tongue with her fingers, her brows knit together.  She whines in response, rushing away to relieve her scalded tongue with some water.  It turns out, you didn’t get that gossip session with Robin seeing as she was too occupied with soothing her tongue along with a sudden wave of customers.  Next time, you suppose.  You’ll have another chance to rant and rave to each other soon enough.

–

The espresso machine whirs and creates a hum as you craft a macchiato for the customer standing idly by the to go counter.  It’s 5:15.  And you work the shop alone.  Not that you would usually complain, the evening rush was nothing you couldn’t handle on your own but training a new hire wasn’t something you could bypass so either way it would need to get done and the sooner your new terror of a coworker could do things independently, the better.  And yet, he was fifteen minutes late, nowhere in sight, not even the roar of his stupid motorcycle in the distance.

Robin and Steve had taken off at five on the dot, Steve complaining that he was responsible for hauling everyone to Lucas’ basketball game and you grateful for having the night shift.  Sports were a complete snoozefest and although you’d love to support Lucas it just wasn’t your scene.  Of course you’d go when you were free but there was that sliver of relief when you weren’t required to subject yourself to the highschool gym full of sweaty kids and squeaking shoes.

With a polite smile, the drink is gingerly handed to the customer and you are offered a half assed thank you before they exit, no eye contact while they stare down at their phone.  You shrug it off, glancing around at the few people that are lounging around at the tables either working on their laptops or reading.  Everyone seems satisfied and no tables are in need of tidying or wiping down so you return to the hot chocolate you had been nursing, now chocolate milk if anything but still delicious.  Leaning against the counter as you sip, you allow yourself a moment of meditation, breathing in–and out–in—and out, the cocoa taste lingering on your tongue in between sips.

As if god himself had it out for you, your brief moment of silence and tranquility is rudely interrupted by the blaring engine of a certain someone’s dumbass motorcycle, whipping around the corner and into a spot dead center in front of the shop.  You note that you’ll have to have a conversation with him about parking in the back so customers can actually use those spots provided–he won’t listen but at least Ronnie won’t be able to put the blame on you.  Rolling your eyes at the delinquent, he makes his way into the building, pulling his helmet off and shaking his shaggy mane around like a dog.

Knowing that you can’t reprimand him the way you so desire in front of customers, you shoot him daggers from where you lean, gripping the paper cup tight enough to leave crescents from your nails.  If he doesn’t even have the decency to show up for work on time, why should you have to endure closing with him every night?  Why is it that you’re seemingly being punished by the universe?  Haven’t you had enough already?  My apartment sucks, I sleep on a lumpy mattress in the corner on the hard ass floor, my heater doesn’t work even though it's getting cold, hell, even some of my lights don’t work, rent is being raised next month, classes are kicking my ass, and now that actual spawn of satan gets to unleash his wrath on me every day.  The thoughts consume you momentarily until Eddie spins around from clocking in on the computer, delivering a smirk with an amused expression underlying his features.  And you’re having none of it, it’s only his second day and he’s pulling this shit?  Absolutely not.  

Your brows furrow in rage but your voice comes out in a hushed but cruel whisper.  “Were you out rolling with the raccoons again?”  You refer to the time he crashed one of Steve’s parties, maybe it was New Years; he got so wasted that he began befriending some raccoons out near the pool.  He laid on the ground for at least two hours and nearly cried when they ran off, crushing whatever dream he had of either taking them home or whatever he was planning in his drunken state of mind.  In any case, it was something everyone held over him, especially you on the rare occasion that you had to associate with him–so if he wanted to dick around at work and make your life hell (as if he hadn’t already done that) then you would throw anything you could at him to cause him grief.  There was no playing nice.  

The slightest hue of pink makes its way across his cheeks before he straightens his posture in a means to intimidate you.  “Calm down there, Socks.  Don’t get your panties in a twist over lil ol’ me.”  His brow raises as if to challenge you.  Your comment got to him–flustered him.  He’s trying to hide it but you can detect the embarrassment seeping out of his pores, the hatred he has for the fact that he let his vulnerability slip out in his drunken haze that night and the look on your face indicating that you have the upperhand here.  

Taking the lid off of your remaining hot chocolate gone cold, you slurp up the contents of the cup, a layer of the melty whip cream decorating your top lip as you give him a cocky glare.  “Trust me, nobodies getting their panties in a twist over you, Munson.”  You reply, checking around him to make sure no customers are listening in on the exchange.  

His notorious grin takes over his features, dimples on full display and you could just kick him in his stupid teeth.  Leaning in ever so slightly, his breath fans over your face, tobacco evident.  One hand rests next to you on the counter, the other gripping his helmet.  “Nice stache.”  He whispers, tapping the counter twice before heading toward the back.

Nice stache?  What kind of come back–oh.  You gently bring your fingers up to your top lip, feeling the obvious whip cream sitting comfortably there and you feel your blood run hot in embarrassment as well as rage.  What makes it worse is that he had nothing to do with it, it just happened and that gave him the upperhand in return.  The universe or some higher power really it out for you and clearly wasn’t rooting for you in this war.  

Tossing the cup angrily into the trash and wiping off your lip, a quiet groan escapes you, Eddie sauntering in actually wearing an apron today.  Except it's littered in several pins and patches, some room in between to add more later on.  “Do you even care that you’re–” You check the clock.  “Twenty minutes late?!”  You finish, still attempting to stay quiet enough that the remaining customer’s wouldn’t hear.  “And–and your apron.  Do you think you can do whatever you want?”  You whisper yell furiously.  A stupid question, you realize as it tumbles out of your mouth.

“Yes, actually.  I’m a free man in a free country.  What a foreign concept.”  He says tying his hair back into a low bun, a few select pieces framing his face.  “Why don’t you worry about yourself.”  He snaps.  “Also…”  He begins with a point of his finger.  “Who the hell drinks hot chocolate as someone who works in a coffee shop?”  He mocks.  You can’t help but glance at the glint that catches at his earlobe, a little silver hoop reflecting off the lights, something you otherwise wouldn’t notice if not for his hair being pulled back.  You would dare to even call it cute if he wasn’t such a menace, an absolute barbarian that you vowed to never give the time of day to again and yet here you are, giving several hours of your life.

A scoff is earned from you while you cross your arms, leaning on one hip with sass.  The attitude is there but you have no response to counter him.  He stares at you expectantly and you come up with nothing but a mumble under your breath.  “Caffeine makes me anxious.”  He barely catches it, humming for you to repeat it again.  “Hot chocolate doesn’t have caffeine in it, I try to limit my caffeine okay!?”  You snap, still quiet enough to not draw attention. 

Rolling his eyes, he seems to ignore your answer and strolls over to the front counter, reaching over and snatching up a ham and cheese sandwich without a care in the world, immediately tearing into it.  You resist the urge to grab it right out of his hand and launch it across the room, instead opting to massage your temples with your fingers, taking deep breaths.  It was either that or you’d have a homicide charge on your hands.  Sure you also snuck sandwiches from the cooler however you were discrete and no one ever noticed.  If Eddie kept it up, you’d get in trouble for his misbehavior.  

“Do you want this job or not?”  You sigh, trying to reason.  He chews disgustingly on the sandwich, crumbs rolling down his chest.  He shrugs.  A scream is awaiting in your lungs, an unreleased scream of pent up rage for the immature boy towering over you.  It doesn’t escape but it so desperately wants to.  “Munson.”  You grit your teeth, fists forming at your sides. 

“Hmm?”  He hums carelessly, scarfing down the remaining bites and tossing the wrapper into the trash.  

Another deep breath, you try to clear your energy.  “If we don’t at least cooperate here, I am out of a job and I cannot afford to be out of a job.”  You plead with him, eyes becoming the slightest bit watery much to your distaste.  It’s not on purpose, things are really just that bad.  

“What?  Did your trust fund run out?”  He bites, and it hurts.  Though it's not the most vile thing someone could say it pinches you and leaves behind a nagging pain.  Trust fund?  Who did he think you were?

“Excuse me?”  You breathe out, stepping slightly closer to him, still on alert for any customers who might listen in but you’re still in the clear.

“Yeah, did mommy and daddy cut you off?  Welcome to the real world.”  His words are like knives cutting into your skin.  They shouldn’t be, you know that.  His words are meaningless to you–are they though?  Where did he even come up with the idea that you came from any sort of wealth?  Sure in high school you were stable enough but nowhere near Harrington wealthy.  Was he referring to you living comfortably?  If that's the case he would be elated to know that you had close to nothing these days.  But you can’t give him that satisfaction.

Brushing off the interaction as if nothing was said, you grab the clipboard from one of the drawers to find where you left off in training last night and what boxes remained to be checked off.  “So yesterday we learned cleaning procedures and counting the register.  Today we pick up learning drink recipes.”  You suck it up and push through.  His words are nothing, he is nothing.  A certain emotion flashes in his eyes when you glance up to scold him for not paying attention.  You can’t put your finger on what it is but it must be some type of regret for taking this job, there’s something sadder to it though.  He is nothing to me but a warning from the universe on what to stay away from.

–

“Okay so five pumps of caramel.”  Eddie confirms with you, eyes drooping in boredom.  The shop is now devoid of customers, the evening rush long gone as it was now 7:30 and you only expected to see maybe five more customers at most before closing, giving you ample time to stuff Eddie’s dumb brain with all the drink recipes possible so he could eventually do everything by himself and you’d no longer have to convene with him.

An exhale leaves your lungs while you rest your head in your hands on the counter, shaking your head.  “No.  Four.  Four pumps of caramel.  Four.”  You reiterate, patience wearing thin.  At least he wasn’t arguing with every word that left your mouth.  “Let’s take a break from that one and try this one instead.”  You advise, pushing a new recipe card in front of him.  This one was for a simple iced mocha.  “So for this one you start off with three pumps of chocolate and then two shots of espresso.”  You instruct, eyes tired and the bags underneath them giving it away.

Eddie reaches for one of the syrups and before you can stop him, he’s pumping three pumps of hazelnut into the cup, your hand smacking your face in frustration.  “Eddie, do you just not read the labels?”  You question.

He fakes a laugh, shoving the syrup back into its place.  “Do you just not read the labels?”  He mocks in a high voice.  Your patience is wavering but you know you just need to get through this.  The sooner he finishes training, the sooner you will have peace and quiet.  

“Try again.”  You tell him, holding back all of the anger rattling in your bones.  He rolls his eyes and grabs the correct syrup this time.  Except as he pumps it into the cup, you find that his pumps are way too big, not like you taught him earlier.  He’s pushing down too far.  “Too far!  You’re pumping too far, it’s too much!”  You tell him as the bottom of the cup becomes filled too high with chocolate, practically taking up where the espresso should go.

“Okay, you are like the worst teacher ever.”  He states while sloshing around the flavored syrup in the clear cup, coating it around the sides as it maneuvers in his hand.  

A hand drags down your face and you swear you’ve lost years of your life just in the past two nights.  “Train yourself then.”  You slap your hand on the counter, making your way over to the book corner and taking a seat in your favorite spot near the window to gaze at the streetlights.  

His face contorts in confusion as if he had no idea why you were giving up on him.  “Fine.”  He mutters, taking a look at the little card that had the instructions for an iced vanilla coffee concoction.  He can’t stop himself from glancing over to you in the corner, the warm glow of the street lights embracing you like a blanket.  And he can’t shy away from the pang of guilt in his chest.  Yet he continues to find himself at your throat every time, and you at his rightfully so.  At least you have reason to be, he’s just a pathetic excuse of emotions buried under skin that dug himself so deep into a hole over the years there was no way out and all he could do was what he did best–shove people away and just play the part that had always been assigned to him since birth.

The sudden wail of the blender has you jolting and looking over behind the counter only to find Eddie manning the machine.  You were too beyond exhausted to care anymore.  If he wanted to start making milkshakes in spite of you then so be it.  Your sight continued to set on the glow of the streetlights over the sidewalk.  It didn’t rain today or tonight thankfully since you’d have to walk home.  As you close your eyes, you imagine the warmth of the lights engulfing you and bask in the heat of the shop, silently cursing your landlord for not being attentive to your broken heater, leaving you with chattering teeth every night.  If you could sleep in the back room you would, however that would be an awkward conversation with Ronnie and the openers, Max and El who took on the earliest shift from 4:30AM to 8:30AM, when Robin and Steve would relieve them of their duties.  It was funny how your whole group seemed to now run The Under-Ground but you couldn’t come up with a better team if you tried.  Save for Eddie, you could definitely find someone a hundred times better and then you would have the perfect team.  

You continued to wander around in your imagination, the blender coming to a halt but you were too lost to even open an eye.  The sound of cups scattering on the counter had you wincing but not once leaving your mind, not yet.  It was rare that you were able to just sit and not think about the stressors in your life.  That relaxation is shattered when a cup is slammed down in front of you, the noise causing you to jump back in your seat, eyes flashing open only to be meant with a perfectly curated blended iced mocha, down to the whip cream and chocolate drizzle on top.  Behind it stands Eddie with his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes stuck on the drink and not your reaction.  All you offer is a nod, hand wrapping around the cup as you push it back toward him across the dark wood.  What did he want?  An applause?  He did his job, congratulations. 

“Good?”  He asks for approval, much to your surprise.  

“Mhm.”  You nod again, standing up and making your way back behind the counter, leaving him to stare at his creation.  There was no way you would give him any type of praise even if he did make the drink without any flaws.  

“You didn’t even taste it.”  He continues to stare down at the beverage on the table, his voice monotone.

As you start to mark a few things off for inventory, pen gliding across the paper, you hold out your other hand, paying him no mind in any other manner.  Reluctantly, he scoops up the drink and strides over, shoving it in your hand like a pissed off child.  You take a sip and are impressed that it actually tastes good but rather than give him any kind of compliment, you offer another nod.  He’s starting to hate that response and if he receives another nod from you he may pull his hair out.  The cold condensation stings your palm so you set the drink down, again pushing it toward him without so much as a glance.

“Just admit it, Socks.”  He starts, grabbing the mocha and licking the whip cream from the top.  “I did good and you hate it.  Oh but if King Steve or Robin made it you’d be falling at their feet.”  His tone is low and his gaze is intense as he burns into your side profile.  

Continuing to ignore him, you jot down a few notes on the inventory sheet for some things that Ronnie may need to order more of on the next shipment.  He scoffs, beginning to walk away from you when you decide to speak up.  “Steve and Robin didn’t make me hate myself.”  You remind him.  It’s as if time slowed down the moment you spoke, the way you let the words roll off your tongue so truthfully, as if those words were in the bible.  Eddie wasn’t religious by any means but that’s how disastrous your words felt.  Yet he still finds comfort in playing his part.

“I made you hate yourself?”  He seethes.  “I made you hate yourself.”  He repeats gritting his teeth.  He knows he shouldn’t let himself go any further, it's a bad idea and it's simply not true what he’s about to say.  But he can’t stop himself from assuming his role, he doesn’t know any different.  He shouldn’t venture into territory where he knows he can never return from.  “Babe.”  The name is far from its endearing meaning, its dripping in hostility, soaked in venom.  “I never made you hate yourself, you did that just fine all on your own.”  The moment the words pierce the air he knows he shouldn’t have said them because there wasn’t even the slightest hint of honesty.  The ugliest parts of him jumped out and now he has to suffer the damages.

A swell of tears stings the backs of your eyes and you desperately suck them back, refusing to let him have this.  Your fists clench as you drop the pen from your grasp, your side profile still facing him, him standing in your peripheral.  Suddenly you're gripping the counter with white knuckles, slowly shifting your gaze to the cowardly man a few feet away.  His mouth opens and closes as if trying to take back what he said but he’s coming to realize it isn’t an option.  In all honesty, the way you look right now frightens him.  There’s suddenly no emotion behind your gaze.  And then you fire right back at him.

“I hope you hate yourself just as much as I hate myself.  I hate you more than I hate myself.”  It stings like a deep scrape after you’ve fallen off your bike as a child, the dirt wedging itself into the skin.  Again, his mouth opens and closes but there’s nothing to respond with.  This may be his last shift since you’re probably going to tell Ronnie that he did some kind of fucked up thing just to get him fired and Ronnie will believe you over him–of course he will.  He deserves it.  But it would also mean he’s back right where he started, no one wanting to hire him.  The Munson name really carried its burdens.  He already had a secure job during the day at the auto shop, Jax & Sons but he needed the extra income.  The only reason Ronnie hired him at The Under-Ground was because the owner, Beth’s husband Sam, owned The Hideout and Eddie was at least welcome there with the other rejects most of the time.  While The Hideout wasn’t hiring, Sam referred him to The Under-Ground and assured him he would put in a good word with his wife.  They were too good to him and he was starting to regret their kindness toward him, he deserved to be run over and have the shit kicked out of him.

No further words were spoken the rest of the night.  Eddie was handed the clip board with the checklist for training, a silent demand that he train himself the rest of the shift while you occupied yourself with finishing some inventory, cleaning, and serving the few customers that came in.  He quietly figured things out, familiarizing himself with the ingredients and learning quicker than he thought.  Whenever he had a question, he refrained and decided he’d either ask you at a later time or eventually sort it out on his own.  He should quit but there weren’t any other options if he wanted to keep himself fed and continue saving up to get out of Hawkins.  Nowhere else was going to hire him, especially for the night shift.  He was lucky they even trusted him to close with a girl though Sam seemed to put the rumors about him to rest if his wife and Ronnie had anything to hold against him and he would forever be grateful although now he didn’t feel he deserved that grace even if he was an innocent man that never amounted to the things his dad did.  

–

Night after night for the remainder of the week, the evening shift was filled with tension and bruised feelings.  If you had to so much as speak to Eddie it would be short and to the point, no sugarcoating.  Each time you instructed him to clean something or do a task he would roll his eyes but oblige.  He was the least of your problems and you were going to make sure it stayed that way.  His training was almost complete and he was starting to pick up on a rhythm which meant you wouldn’t have to engage with him nearly as much.  By Friday you’d fallen into a routine and while not in the best of circumstances, it was fine since not a whole lot of arguing happened since the previous incident.

You would attend to the customers with a friendly smile and a higher than your normal octave voice as usual and he would be his sarcastic self while also seeming to charm people with his damn dimples.  Ronnie didn’t appear to be phased by all the pins and patches that adorned Eddie’s apron when he made an appearance randomly yesterday, to your dissatisfaction.  You guess as long as none of them had anything offensive then he left him alone.  Why did you care anyway?  You didn’t.  

The evening swarm of coffee addicts had arrived and you churned out drinks left and right, earning tips with the help of your perky attitude that you’d learn to put on over time.  It aggravated you that Eddie had no issue charming his way into bigger tips, it’s like he was a professional.  Some patrons would give him nasty looks while others, particularly the older moms who you’d definitely seen with a husband at some point, would pay him extra attention and drop larger bills into the tip jar while flipping their hair and lingering around longer than necessary.  It made your stomach churn.  Regardless, you continued to put on a smile and work through the rush, hoping by the end of the night the tips split up would give you a little bit of extra rent money to save for next month.  It wasn’t like you were in a position to save money, living paycheck to paycheck but something had to give and you needed that cushion so you actually had a place to live.

As the night winded down and people were heading home, neglecting the coffee shop until early in the morning, you took a rag to the tables to clean and straighten up while Eddie obnoxiously banged on the espresso machine that had been giving everyone a hard time all week, periodically getting stuck and then spewing espresso everywhere.  “Fuckin’ piece of shit machine.”  He mutters, trying to pry off the panel to get a look inside at the machinery.  

Not wanting to be responsible for a five hundred dollar machine broken by none other than your jackass coworker, you decide to step in, shouting over to him.  “Would you knock it off?  We have someone who comes in to fix the machines and I’m not going to be responsible–”  A loud clank of metal stops you as Eddie jiggles a screwdriver you weren’t even sure how he found in the machine.  He pries the screwdriver into the machine as if trying to loosen something stuck in the gears, succeeding when a few coffee beans fly out and fall to the floor, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Fixed it.”  He confirms, shutting the panel and running the machine with a test shot of espresso, the liquid coming out smoothly rather than spraying him in the face.  You shake your head, choosing to keep your mouth shut.  If anything bad happens with the machine you didn’t see it and it wasn’t your fault.  You were not an accomplice if it malfunctioned on his watch.

Eddie glances over at you now sweeping up under one of the tables, somewhat disappointed that you won’t revel in his victory over the machine but also remembering the atmosphere he created from the very beginning, never deserving your positive attention in the first place.  It was 8:00PM, only an hour away from closing and the college students who had occupied the tables earlier were no longer around, the only sounds being the upbeat jazz music playing from the speakers.  He sparked an idea.  

Jogging to the back room where his eye caught the music system the very first day, he starts messing around with it, fingers searching in the back where his eyes can’t see behind the wall for a wire.  Biting his lip in concentration, he locates it with a triumphant hum.  

Too overcome with sweeping the floors clean, you only notice Eddie is no longer in the room when a shrieking guitar blares through the shop’s speakers, leaving you covering your ears and dropping the broom with a smack to the ground.  It’s some kind of metal song that you’ve possibly heard before but wouldn’t be able to recall the name.  Before you can map out your next moves, Eddie appears in the doorway to the back, grinning ear to ear genuinely.  “I hacked the stereo, how sick is that?”  He goes back to his spot behind the counter, head banging away.

“Shut it off!”  You yell over the noise.  Either he pretends not to hear you or he really can’t hear you over how loud it is.  Now you’re afraid that some of the neighboring businesses will call the cops or something and it’s on your dime.  “Eddie!”  You shout once again with no reaction from him.  You take the initiative and scurry into the back, finding the stereo system with a wire coming out of it and Eddie’s phone plugged in.  You scowl and unplug it, killing all sound, an offended “what the fuck!” heard from the front of the shop as you soothe your ear drums in the quiet.

He starts to make his way toward the back only to be stopped by you nearly running him over as you walk with a purpose back out to finish cleaning.  “Um, excuse you?”  He gestures your way as if you’d stepped on his ego.  

The broom is picked back up from its spot on the floor and you finish off by sweeping the remaining dirt into the dust pan, not responding.  When you look up again, he’s not there and you know he’s definitely gone to the back to plug his phone back in.  Your suspicions are confirmed when the riff is taking over the speakers once again, drums pounding through the sound system.  A groan emerges from deep within you as you empty the dust pan into the trash.  There was no winning with him, he always pushed back and you had no energy to keep up.  As he emerges from the back again, he doesn’t even look in your direction.  

“Can you at least turn it down!?”  You yell over the music, hoping he would find some kind of humility within himself so you didn’t go home with a headache.  It wasn’t just that it was too loud, it was overwhelming, your anxiety was spiking and no matter how much you breathed and told yourself to calm down, the volume of the song playing had your heart rate beating faster than you felt it could even keep up with.  Eddie continues ignoring you, and you know damn well that he heard your request since you were close enough, standing just a few feet away.  You swallowed hard as you attempted to keep your cool, keep your nervous system in check.  I’m okay, I’m okay, nothing is going to happen.   

And there was no reason to believe anything bad would happen but your brain was screaming at you that the escalation of the metal riff playing was a warning signal and you couldn’t talk yourself off the ledge.  As much as you tried to contain your breathing and keep it steady, it became erratic as you stumbled over to one of the tables and thankfully made it into a chair.  Your elbows rested on the table top while you covered your ears in an attempt to muffle the suddenly overwhelming sound that wouldn’t otherwise bother you had it not taken you by surprise earlier and had the volume not been set the highest the speakers allowed.  

The world around you blurred out while you seemed to fall apart because of a stupid issue you had with loud sounds that caught you off guard.  You couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t even think to just run to the back and unplug it again.  You didn’t even register that there were hands waving in front of you and a pair of big brown eyes worriedly looking at you.  His lips were moving but there was no way to understand what was being said in this state.  And then he was gone from your vision as you choked on a breath caught in your throat.  You were about to make a run for the door just to get your bearings back when the room went silent and suddenly things started to slowly become clear again.  When you turn your body in your seat toward the back, Eddie stands there with a shocked expression painted on his face, mouth dropped open.

“I—I didn’t—I’m—I—“  For probably the first time ever Eddie Munson is speechless.  No quirky comments, no stupid jokes, just stuttering.  Your breathing, while a lot better now, is still heavy as you recover from the sudden panic.  “I didn’t know—I wouldn’t have—“  Before he can continue rambling you save him the energy.  

“Just—leave it.”  You demand, putting a hand up to signal him to stop.  A warning to never mention it again.  He owed you that much.

Then he goes on to do something you’d never expect.  He makes his way to the table you’ve sat yourself at and pulls out a chair, sitting across from you.  “Are you okay?”  He asks, eyes wide and concerned, hands clasped together on top of the table as he fidgets with his clunky rings.  What the fuck did he care?  He’d jump at any chance to see you upset, why was right now any different?

All you can do is look at him in distress, displaying how you felt on your face and in your body language.  “Oka—does it look like I’m okay?!”  You respond, throwing your arms up before they fall back into your lap.  Your outburst quickly dwindles, a shyer demeanor taking over as you both linger in the quiet, in the aftermath of what he believes may have been an anxiety attack.  “I’m—I'm fine.”  You finally decide, standing and acting as if nothing just happened, taking your place behind the counter.  Eddie looks dumbfounded, unsure of any of his next moves so as to keep the peace for once in his fucking life.  He’d experienced lots of trauma before but never had to come face to face with the kind of terror that took over your face, never experienced being on the other end of the turmoil.  While he’s sure he’s gone through what you just had except with other triggers, there was not one idea in his head about how to approach the situation, how he would dare to even console you if that’s all you really needed.  In a sense, he’s a tad grateful that you seemed to snap out of it on your own but that also makes him feel like the most terrible person on planet earth.  What kind of man was he if not some duplicate of his dad like everyone says and like he feels he’s doomed to be?  He had been in your shoes before, experienced the true fear you held in your body and no one was there for him.  So when he was there fully capable of providing some kind of comfort, he did nothing and suddenly he was his dad.  In his mind he was his dad, doing nothing, helping no one but himself.  

Suddenly he felt like he was 12 years old again, sinking in on himself but before he could be pulled any deeper he shot up and rapidly blinked his eyes.  And you were there perfectly normal, trying to sneakily set aside a sandwich for yourself but it didn’t go unnoticed, it’s not like he cared though.  Had he become this big of a fuck up without realizing it?  He was no better than the man that abandoned him at 12, he genuinely believed he was on the same path as the man that single handedly tore his son’s life apart, who raised him in a crack house until things got too complicated and left only to be arrested 48 hours later.  Eddie had to stop thinking, he was pulling himself down again, an anchor might as well be tied to his ankle.  

“I—I need a break.”  He exhales, not listening if you had any protests which you didn’t, you just tuned him out as the bell on the door jingled and he stopped outside for a cigarette.  Who smokes cigarettes anymore?  You wonder.  Well you answer your own question when you remember the hick town you live in, many people still smoked cigarettes out here but most of them were older.  It was now around 8:45PM, almost time to go home to try and knock out in the chill stale air of your room.  The bell above the door rings again and you glance up but don’t find Eddie and instead meet the vibrant blue eyes of Jason Carver.  While not a close friend, you’d known each other throughout high school and had a few mutual friends and even found yourselves in some of the same study groups during finals.  

“Hey!”  He greets you like an old friend, a smile on his face, his bright white teeth glimmering in the light.  

“Jason!  I thought you were away for college in Boston.”  You say, remembering that he was able to escape this small town and move onto bigger things.  Of course he was, his family had everything lined up for him.  He stuck to his plan and it seemed to be going well for him.  Something you wish you could say for yourself but you never even had a plan if you’re honest.

“Yeah, I’m just in town for the week.  I flew in earlier today.  My grandmas sick so you know…” He doesn’t finish the sentence and doesn’t have to for you to understand.  

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”  You sympathize with him.  

“No, it’s okay.  This has happened a few times, it just seems like this might be it.”  He tells you with a sad nod of his head.  “Anyway, is that Eddie Munson outside?”  He asks, changing the subject.  You almost roll your eyes at his name but quickly remember how many fights the two had been in previously, usually Eddie walking away with no more than a black eye or a busted lip and Jason always looking worse.  You don’t want to encourage another here tonight so you just nod, shyly avoiding Jason’s gaze.  “Hey, is that freak bothering you while you work?  Is he harassing you?”  He starts to sound like he’s getting worked up, the opposite of your intention.  Jason was always super forward especially when he was agitated which is why you always gravitated away from him.  He’d always put on a sweet front but then come out with pure anger the moment he heard something he didn’t like.  

“No!”  You blurt out, unsure of why you’re even protecting Eddie in any way.  Maybe it’s the fact that while you do hate Eddie with every nerve ending in your body, Jason only hates him for being everything he’s not.  For not being popular, not engaging in sports, not going to church.  None of those are why you hated Eddie but Jason had this bottled up rage toward him and you had the smallest inkling that he was envious in some weird way of the metalhead.  “No, he’s not bothering me.  He just works here and he’s on break.  He doesn’t even talk to me.”  You try to talk him down.  Jason looks at you with suspicion, not fully believing you.  Why you were even explaining yourself to him was beyond you.  

Reluctantly, he drops it and continues on with the small talk which you find yourself growing bored of.  Jason was turning out to be someone that reminded you of your parents, fairly conservative and tightly wound up.  In high school he was a bit more laid back but it seems that whatever college he goes to has morphed him into another stereotypical white guy.  The conversation couldn’t end soon enough for you as he started getting into a story about his frat house.  You tried to hide your distaste but the air just felt sour.  Not once did he even ask what you’d been up to, immediately going off about himself.  As if he could read your mind, the bell above the door is heard and Eddie slowly walks back in, his face twisted in a scowl.  

Jason looks toward him at the sound of the bell, freezing to stare him down as if it would intimidate him.  Did he forget the several times Eddie handed his ass to him?  If this was going to happen again right now, it was guaranteed that with Eddie being a man now, he’d have no problem taking him down.  Jason was a man now too and while he had muscle from what you could see peeking out from under the sleeve of his polo, Eddie had grit and there was no way to go against that.  

“Munson.”  Jason greets with a nod of his head, a fake smile on his face.  Eddie offers no greeting in return, only a glare as he makes his way back behind the counter.  

“Anyway, it was great catching up with you.” Jason directs his attention back to you.  “We should hang out while I’m in town.  Here’s my number.”  He says cockily, using a nearby pen to scribble on one of the shop’s business cards, placing it in your hand.  

“Oh, okay.  Yeah, um.  Okay.”  You respond with uncertainty.  The number would be tossed aside the moment he stepped out the door but you appeased him the best you could while he stood in front of you.  As he backs up toward the door, he shoots you a wink.  While he thinks butterflies are fluttering within you right now, you’re actually internally cringing.  And with that, he was gone, finally.  You piece together that he hadn’t even purchased a coffee.  The more you think about it, he may as well have pissed on you in an attempt to assert dominance over Eddie.  Men were stupid creatures.

Eddie huffs out a laugh as he doodles on his hand, nothing left to do besides leave and lock up.  You pay him no mind while you begin to quickly count the drawer so you’d be able to leave on time.  “Fuckin’ tool.”  Eddie mumbles to himself.

While you agree, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction so you continue counting the money.  Finding that everything is accounted for, you lock up the drawer and grab your bag from the back while Eddie silently does the same.  You meet at the door in some unspoken agreement, him holding the door as you step out into the chill air, turning to shut the door and lock it while he puts his motorcycle helmet on and walks over, straddling his bike.  As you shove the keys back into your bag and start your journey home, he clears his throat.  “Watch out for Carver.  He’s not all sparkles and sunshine.”  He says revving his bike.  Who was he to tell you what to do?  Though you had no interest in Jason whatsoever, you weren’t going to let Eddie tell you what to do, he was the last person on earth you would listen to.  

“Oh, I’m sorry?  I could say the same about you.  You don’t get to tell me who to watch out for.”  You step closer toward the bike, a hand on your hip while the nagging cold pinches at your skin.  If your jaw was tightened it was both out of anger and due to the cold.  

“Listen, Socks–”

“Don’t call me that.”  You snap.

“I’m serious, Carver–”  His voice is muffled under the helmet.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve trying to tell me what I can and can’t do, Munson.”  You’re trying to get in his face somewhat but it's hard and a little humiliating when you can only see a reflection of yourself in his visor.

“When something happens you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”  He points a finger at you sternly.

“Oh!  My hero!”  You say with sarcasm laced in the words.  “I don’t need some drop out lecturing me about what I do or who I associate with in my free time.”  The insult shouldn’t affect him, he’s been called every name in the book.  But it does, for some reason it does.  

“Do whatever the hell you want.”  You can’t see his face under the helmet but if you could you knew he’d be clenching his teeth and flexing his jaw by the way he said it.  In seconds he speeds away, bike screeching annoyingly down the street. 

It had been a long day.  A long week even.  The only silver lining was that tomorrow was your Friday and after that you’d have at least one day to not think about work and Eddie Munson’s stupid attitude.  The shop was closed on Sundays and though it wasn’t very enticing to think about sitting in your room catching up on homework, it was far better than having to argue with the equivalent of a stubborn six year old in a man’s body.

Eddie on the other hand was feeling things he’d never experienced before.  There was this persistent worry in the back of his mind that he didn’t know what to do with.  His emotions had been gathered up and thrown into the wind so suddenly and he was struggling to grasp every single one so he could tuck it away again.  And you only angered him beyond comprehension, even if he deserved every venomous word thrown his way, he couldn’t deny that you provoked him in ways no other human has.  The way you had no issue with telling him off but let Jason talk over you made his blood boil.  It was none of his business, genuinely.  That’s what he told himself but deep down he knew it was his business the second Jason flashed that fake smile at him that said everything.   

~end~

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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #58: Percy Jackson x Criminal Minds

While perusing the PJO tag for the first time in ages, I stumbled across yet another crossover I never would have thought of trying - and which, naturally, hasn't escaped my head. It managed to mash together the worlds of PJO and Criminal Minds... and so, naturally, I thought: if I were going to write this crossover, what would I do?

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon - until MoA. There Percy plays off the judo throw in New Rome to avoid starting a war with the Greeks, but after they're alone on the Argo Percy tells Annabeth that he doesn't appreciate 1) being blamed for his disappearance, as if Hera had asked him if he wanted to lose his memories and half a year of his life, and 2) being physically attacked by his girlfriend outside of weapons practice.

Naturally, Annabeth doesn't take this well and doubles down on her position, and the two fight like cats and dogs throughout MoA and HoO. By the time they reach Akhlys, Percy is hardly inclined to listen to Annabeth at all, and so doesn't stop poison-bending.

It's not obvious at the time, but not stopping fully unlocks Percy's divine powers. He's now immortal, like Chiron, but not a god. It's also rather the final straw for Annabeth and Percy's relationship.

Because he doesn't immediately realize he's immortal, Percy goes on with normal human things like high school and college - attending both at Camp Jupiter, which is better equipped to handle demigods than the average mortal school. It's only after he starts grad school at nearby Stanford University and gets a lot of comments on how young he looks does anyone start realizing what's happened.

Fast forward to about 15 years after HOO, when Percy has joined the BAU - because even immortals have to pay the bills somehow.

In my head I picture this to be S8/S9 of CM, largely because I enjoyed Alex Blake's character and think she'd be a good outsider POV for the story I want to tell, but dealer's choice.

Percy proves to be the BAU cryptid. His primary and secondary school records say unsub in the making... then he double majors in marine biology and classics in college (because everyone who survives four years in the legion or slays a particular number of monsters gets a classics degree when they graduate by default). Then he goes on to get a doctorate in psychology from Stanford... and swim twice for Team USA in the Olympics. He once went on vacation in the Keys and found the wreck of a lost Spanish galleon free diving. He's polite and mild mannered and goes nowhere without at least three knives on his person and a week's worth of survival gear. When he's tired, his reports sometimes slip into Ancient Greek or Latin. He may be a Hellenist and speaks of Hell as a place that he's been.

Percy is, in short, unfathomable to his profiler colleagues. They like him, but every new thing they learn about him only complicates the profile they're definitely not putting together.

He's been in the BAU for about 18 months before they receive reports of a serial killer's dumping ground in the Oakland Hills, not more than a mile from Camp Jupiter. The victims are all in their late teens and signs indicate all were killed in a ritualistic way. Most of those the investigators can identify are runaways.

Once the BAU is on site, Reid determines that someone is trying to recreate an obscure Ancient Roman sacrifice.

More importantly, Percy realizes that, yes, these are definitely the bodies of Roman demigods - and not one of them was killed by a monster before they could get to camp. In fact, he's pretty sure there's a secret entrance to camp not 100' away from the oldest body.

It's this last point that causes Percy to lead his team to Camp Jupiter. This is a revelation in itself and should answer many of the team's questions about Percy but give them twice as many new ones.

It should also be perfect timing, as they arrive just as praetors Frank and Hazel were thinking of reaching out to Percy, as he's the only real investigator either camp has. They're not aware of most of the murders, as it's not unusual for one or two demigods every year to be killed after leaving the safety of camp, but the last three victims went missing in the last three months under odd circumstances.

(One was a granddaughter of Apollo who'd talked about wanting to join the Hunters of Artemis, and when she disappeared everyone assumed that's what she did, only for the Hunters to visit later claiming she never showed. The most recent was a daughter of Bacchus who hated the regimented life of the legion and wanted to transfer to Camp Half-Blood where things were a little more their speed. Most the others were legacies or the children of minor gods.)

They set up shop in Percy's house - in part because CJ has no police force beyond the legion, which houses their main suspects - in part because Percy's house is built like a Roman temple on the edge of the temple district and no one would dare sneak into it.

(The demigods have been actively treating immortal Percy as a god, because if deification worked for Nero, they can make it work for Percy. And a deified!Percy could only be good for them.)

In the end it comes out a grandchild of Hecate/Trivia was sacrificing other demigods to their ancestor in hopes of obtaining more power - they should be just powerful enough to disguise their actions with the Mist but not much more, and intensely jealous their ancestor handed already-powerful Hazel more power during the Giant War.

Bonuses include: 1) Thalia and the Hunters showing up to help, as do Nico and Will. This should be an intensely confusing family reunion to watch from the outside given that two are immortal. Extra bonus points if the BAU recognize Nico from some wildly successful paranormal investigative channel on YouTube and are shocked to find out all the ghosts are real; 2) Will calling Percy "mom", on account of the fact he's been dating Apollo for the last five years now - Apollo's longest relationship ever - though Percy refuses to consider marriage or children until fifty years have passed; and 3) One of the BAU being tangentially involved with the mythological world already - Hotch had a relationship with a disguised Justice before meeting Hailey and their child is at Camp Jupiter? Reid has just recently met a disguised Athena at a conference and is now worried he'll arrive home to a baby on the doorstep?

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back to me if you chose to do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[republicsecurity]

News

The Security Forces Channel flickered on, the screen awash with the crisp, clean lines of a studio set that was both austere and imposing. The anchor, a strikingly handsome and athletic young man, sat behind a sleek desk. He wore the black high-collared parade uniform of an Enforcer, the sharp cut of the fabric accentuating his disciplined posture. His shaved head gleamed under the studio lights as he began the broadcast, his voice resonant and clear.

"Good evening. This is 4X9ZM with the Security Forces Channel News, your source for the latest updates on the Paramedic Corps, Lifeguards, Enforcers, and their vital actions protecting our Republic."

80LKU and 60CCD watched intently, their visors up as they sat in the common room, reflecting on the recent documentary and readying themselves for the latest bulletins. The anchor continued, his image unwavering on the screen.

"In our top story tonight, the Republic Parliament has extended the conscript service period to up to 3.6 years, ensuring that our Security Forces remain robust and ready to face any challenge. This decision underscores the critical role our conscripts play in maintaining national security."

The screen cut to footage from the helmets of Enforcers on the ground. The HUD overlays were visible, marking key points and individuals in the crowd. Commands flashed across the display, directing the Enforcers' movements with precision. The scene was chaotic, protesters clashing with the armored figures of the Enforcers, but the discipline and training of the Security Forces were evident in every motion.

80LKU leaned forward, noting the tactics used. "They’ve got the new crowd dispersion modules in play. See how they isolate and de-escalate?"

60CCD nodded. "Yeah, and the memetic blockers are filtering out the agitators. Textbook execution."

The footage shifted to a debriefing, where the commanding officer outlined the operation’s success. The anchor’s voiceover praised the Enforcers’ restraint and effectiveness.

The screen then cut to a paramedic conscript, a young man with a shaved head, dressed in a red bellhop-style uniform. He stood poolside at the Lifeguard swimming competition. "This is L7B23 with the annual Lifeguard Corps swimming competition, where the finest swimmers of the Corps showcase their skills," he reported. The camera panned over the pool, capturing the toned bodies of Lifeguard cadets slicing through the water with ease, their ID tattoos visible on their chests.

80LKU and 60CCD watched the swimmers with admiration. The Paramedic continued, "These cadets represent the pinnacle of physical fitness and dedication, their rigorous training reflected in every stroke."

The scene transitioned back to the studio, where a Lifeguard conscript, equally bald and imposing in yellow shorts, stood ready to present the weather. His bare chest displayed his ID tattoo: KL99R. "Good evening," he began, "This is KL99R with your weather update. Today, we can expect clear skies and favorable conditions for all Security Forces operations across the Republic."

80LKU and 60CCD exchanged glances, impressed by the seamless presentation and the disciplined presence of their fellow conscripts on-screen.

The anchor returned to the screen, his gaze steady and unwavering. "In other news, the Lifeguard Corps has been actively involved in a major rescue operation off the coast. Utilizing their amphibious armored suits, Lifeguards evacuated over a hundred civilians from a sinking vessel, demonstrating their unparalleled expertise in maritime operations."

Images of the yellow-armored Lifeguards splashing through the waves filled the screen. They moved with practiced ease, their suits buoyant and agile in the water. The HUDs provided real-time updates on the rescue, marking civilians and coordinating efforts seamlessly.

80LKU glanced at 60CCD. "You ever think about the Lifeguards? Seems like a different world, but still part of the same family."

60CCD shrugged. "Not really my thing. I prefer solid ground. But they’re impressive, no doubt."

The news segment transitioned to a feature on the Paramedic Corps. "The Paramedic Corps continues to set new standards in emergency medicine. Today, they showcased their latest advancements in rapid trauma care and evacuation procedures."

Footage showed Paramedics in action, their white and red suits a stark contrast against the grim backdrop of an emergency zone. The HUDs highlighted vital signs, injuries, and treatment plans, guiding the medics with unerring precision. Their efficiency was a testament to the rigorous training and advanced technology at their disposal.

The anchor’s voice carried the weight of national pride. "Remember, every day, our Security Forces stand ready to protect, serve, and ensure the safety of our Republic. Stay vigilant, stay strong. This is 4X9ZM with the Security Forces Channel News, signing off."

As the broadcast ended, 80LKU and 60CCD sat back, absorbing the information. The conversation flowed naturally as they discussed the various roles within the Security Forces, the anchor's polished presentation, and the ever-evolving nature of their duties.

"They really make it look like a well-oiled machine," 80LKU mused

[ruthless-rainbow]

A Call from the Ocean (Introduction)

Ohmygoodness, you guys, I finally finished my concept art for my big Thiam project and this is the introduction to my latest AU. (This is just the beginning, so I hope you are ready for a bit of a ride. 😅) I am so happy for you all to finally meet my little mer!Theo. 🥺 & Welcome to; A Call from the Ocean Summary; Liam Dunbar likes to think he's just your average, everyday, twenty-two year old guy. A College student majoring in history. Captain and star of the swim team. And seemingly just a happy go lucky person. But if only life were that simple. And for Liam, living with his disorder is anything but. Not everyone will and can understand what it's like living with IED. Forced to explain his outbursts of what others see as irrational anger and feeling like a freak. Liam finds solace and peace in one place. The ocean. He's felt the pull of the sea for as long as he can remember and it's like a second home to him. But could there be something else that calls Liam to the waters edge? Something more that lurks beneath the waves? And somewhere deep under the surface of that very ocean is where Theo calls home. An outcast of his kind, a survivor despite the odds being against him and leader of his small pod of three. Theo wonders if there could ever be more to his cold, painful existence. He wonders if he'll ever know a real life, a life lived and not just survived. He wonders if he'll ever experience a touch that's more than claws piercing his flesh and littering his skin with scars. Theo would give anything to know that there is something out there better than this. ..... A few things about this AU, I love mermaids/merpeople and have always been fascinated by them. So, I really couldn't resist making an AU for my all time favorite OTP. And when I imagined Theo as a mer, I fell in love with him and I just couldn't get him out of my head. I jumped all in and let it consume me for months. 😅 Waiting until MERMAY to finally post him. 💜 I had a lot of fun with his design and I didn't want 'frilly Disney mermaid' vibes. I wanted Theo to be beautiful, of course. But I also wanted him to be just a little bit terrifying. 😅 like, yes, he could rip your throat out and drown you before you can even scream, but he would look so pretty while he does it that you may just thank him for the experience. 😅🤣 Also, yes, I did one of his concept arts twice because I wanted to show the fact that parts of Theo are bioluminecent. I mean, c'mon, Bioluminecense is one of the most beautiful and magical things about the ocean, so it only felt right to make him that way. So I did a 'night' version but I still wanted you to be able to see the colors of his fans in both kinds of lighting. Last but never least, I have a few people that I really need to give a shoutout to for this AU. I was truly nervous about it, so I decided to reach out to a few of the wonderful friends I have made on here to get their thoughts and opinions. I honestly couldn't have made this peice if it wasn't for you all because your feedback and support has been vital for this. And we are talking months of y'all having to deal with my nonesense. 😅😅😅 @sterekshipper-writer​, @thiamsxbitch​, @sydney-winchester​, @wolfboy88​, @sapphire-rising-sun​, @stitchkiss​ All of you are so f*cking amazing and I heart you all so much. 💜 I really, really hope you all will like my little mer!Theo and I really hope I will be seeing you again when I post the first chapter to the story in the next few weeks. 💜 Ya’ll . 😘 ✌️💜🌈

[neonscandal]

As a fan of both bnha & jjk, can I ask you somethings?

-which majority of characters will survive if their universe is swithed (jjk charas in bnha verse or bnha charas in jjk verse)

-people in jjk verse have stronger mental state than in bnha verse because the death rate is higher in jjk than bnha (do you agree?)

- from plot and art, which do you think is better (jjk or bnha)?

-dynamics between bakudeku or satosugu, which is written better as a duo? why?

I asked this because in twitter I found a jjk fan and bnha fan have a heated discussion to prove which is better, and that's why I want to know your opinion, thanks.....

I feel like I'm getting tagged in. Excuse me while I stretch before I jump into this. As always, thank you for the ask! ❤️

Put me in the game, coach!

DEADPOOL

Please. If JJK characters' cursed techniques were quirks, they'd all be alive and going to amusement parks and eating crepes.

In the reverse, Midoriya would be a Yuta like drop in considering all of his techniques, maybe, and most of Class 1A would be wiped. Hell, I think we can all agree there are students in Class 1A that shouldn't even be in Class 1A (this is a Minoru Mineta call out, at the very least). But that's also why Jujutsu Tech has a class size that hasn't exceeded 4 students that we've seen. I could see Midoriya, Shinso (cursed speech user), and Tokoyami (shikigami user) in a class. With Todoroki (legacy family + technique) and Bakugo (Todo-esque brute force regardless of technique) over at Kyoto. I'm not saying they'd all survive but I could see it.

MENTAL ACUITY

I think trauma, or one's ability to handle a breadth of it, isn't based on the trauma itself. Even if Midoriya had never experienced loss, he'd repeatedly experienced the inequities of systemic and social oppression from being quirkless compounded by a dad that seemingly peaced out. Kid took hit after hit before being able to have a shot at his dream which he then slowly realized wasn't as cut and dry as it seemed. He keeps on trucking though.

If anything, I think that most characters in JJK are a belt loop getting caught on a door handle away from losing their shit and becoming curse users because of the higher death toll. The students of class 1A might be slowly losing hope but Yuji is constantly swimming in sea of despair, survivor's guilt, and has a 1000 year old curse whispering obscenities to him. For all intents and purposes, kid should be on a watchlist. And you mean to tell me that Megumi "Watch What These Hands Do" Fushiguro is the picture of mental health??? Nah. Buddy has been looking for any opportunity to take a curtain bow with Mahoraga since day 1. Gojo meant what he said when he had to make sure Nobara was crazy in Season 1 because that's what it takes to be a sorcerer if you want to live. You have to be a little deranged so the losses don't take you down the same path as Geto or breed an even bigger problem by generating a curse. The only easy, breezy, beautiful cover girls in JJK are the villains as they are regularly shown to be leisurely enjoying the beach, soccer, mahjong... all while 16 year olds are fighting for their lives and losing.

WINNER TAKE ALL

Plot

Taking into consideration the fact that we're in late stage My Hero Academia and, at best, half way through Jujutsu Kaisen, I think MHA has it on plot. This take is based on being able to now, with most of the story having taken place, see how everything comes together, though. Bear in mind, even at the end of the story, we still don't know how things are going to play out. I've made a lot of wild accusations though (here, here, here, here, here and, inevitably, more are bouncing around my head). What's funny about this is the fact that, there's not really a question of how it's going to end in the grand scheme. We know that Deku will be triumphant in defeating or liberating Shigaraki. I think, through all his subversion, Horikoshi will still write a story where the good guys win. But the subtler details of how the story will end are what everyone's getting fired up about regarding BakuDeku and if anyone will die.

Regarding Jujutsu Kaisen's plot, as readers, we're still too lost in the forest of the culling games to understand the overarching reason. It's still a 5/5 in my book until proven otherwise but, from what we've seen, Gege Akutami buries details that are pertinent later. His exposition style is uniquely different from Horikoshi's (and Iseyama's for that matter). Moreover, Akutami knows how to illicit rage, angst, tears even in the midst of a multi page description of one man's cursed technique (yea, I'm talking about Hikari). They are a troll with a pen and I cannot take that away from them. So, I'm trusting in the process while also acknowledging that this story is not going to echo that of shonen series' before it. Gege Akutami could very well write the end of the human world as we know it, the entirety of the main cast dead, and I wouldn't even be surprised and I would read every. single. panel. Happily.

Art

Again, it's kind of unfair to compare the refined art of a series with 39 volumes versus 24 volumes especially when they stylistically differ so much. So, instead, I'll say what I appreciate for both.

Horikoshi's unique character design, even going so far as to use different illustration styles where appropriate circumvents the issue of Same Face Syndrome while also adding a lot of dynamic visual texture to the cast. Also, hands are like a big part of the story? Which he's managed to make a focal point where it matters. I will also say that he has, in recent chapters, delved into the horror aesthetic beautifully.

Gege Akutami is just a silly little guy. By that, I mean, there will be these AMAZING spreads or panels. Then, on the very next panel or page, there will be a silly lil doodle and it doesn't even feel out of place. In fact, it's very on par with Yuji as a character. I don't think this story is told from Yuji's limited perspective where MHA is largely from Deku's POV, but, when Gege breaks down the behind the scenes, it's broken down as if it's for someone as simple as Yuji. Stylistically gory but also humorous, there are definitely some chapters that are perhaps churned out faster than others, but the art still speaks for itself.

BATTLE OF THE SHIPS

This is a hard one in the sense that BakuDeku is being explored in real time, at length whereas SatoSugu we've only gotten wisps of even though they are, foundationally, what sets off the entire chain of events that sets the story for JJK. There's something to be said for wanting and I think what makes SatoSugu so compelling is truly the tragedy of it. Gojo lost his only equal, his everything (which Geto never thought himself to be) and Geto lost his everloving mind. MHA's whole story is hinged on BakuDeku but the brainrot for SatoSugu decays so poignantly because, while both series are effectively about child soldiers trying to stay alive, SatoSugu is the after. What happens when youth aren't protected, what do they lose?

FINAL VERDICT

Just because you can read them both in Shonen Jump does not mean they're a monolith.

Considering they aren't actually in the same genre, it makes no sense to compare the two. They may have some similarities. But that's like saying a horse is similar to a cow because they are animals with four legs and tails.

It makes more sense to compare JJK to the other two unhinged stories that make up the dark trio, "Chainsaw Man" or "Hell's Paradise: Jigokuraku" because the stakes are the same. Anyone can die. For the most part, there aren't miraculous revivals (like Best Jeanist and whoever else 👀).

A/N: I don't care, I know Nobara's coming back if only for Gege to kill her again.

[tcoyd]

TW: Blood, wounds.

I quite rarely draw something based on my original characters and even less often write something on this topic. Anyway, I'm publishing a sketch and a short story for them.

It was important for every soldier in this world to earn the blessing of two: Sonmaniel, the goddess of war and the scorching sun, and Maveot, the god of death. And each of them was afraid of one thing: to see death firsthand. No matter how much each of them claimed that they were not afraid of death, when they saw a man in a dream, when they saw him in reality, each of them was covered with cold sweat. Bad luck: if Maveot came in person, it means he will take it with him soon. And many ordinary soldiers were afraid to see him in front of their eyes.

The experienced ones were also afraid.

But the wounded don't care anymore.

Operation of «Hounds» turned out to be much more deplorable than it should have been. He, the sniper, a young major, went on the offensive with the others. He no longer had any points for establishing a sniper.

And when the splinter hits the heart, darkness comes immediately.

And indifference followed her. Who would have thought that dying was so easy?

Silence. Cold hands on his face. They hug, stroke the chin and remove the hair stuck, wet with blood and sweat from the forehead. The body is light, as if someone else's ...

— Well, why did you do that ...?

The voice behind you no longer seems ominous. He had heard this rumbling rasp many times before, so many times that he had already scratched his soul naked deep inside.

— You promised to dance.

Someone else's head rests on top of his head, and his hair obscures the view. He doesn't want to open his eyes anymore.

«I wonder if Maveot talks to everyone who dies like that?" — He even has the strength to think.

— You've been dancing the tango with Death for so long. I even like to give in to you step by step and sigh by sigh. So why don't you dance? Are your legs tangled?

Death lifts his head to look into someone else's pale, faded eyes. The extinguished blue meets the blood-red gaze of death.

«I don't care anymore.»

— It's okay... It's okay, my brave soldier. I'll give you another chance. Your thread shouldn't break so early.

The soldier closes his eyes. A second chance? What a generosity. The sounds gradually gain volume and volume. The sound of life support equipment... The hospital smell of drugs, the smell of blood... It's coming slowly, but inexorably.

—Don't let me down, Major.

The voice is drowning in sounds somewhere on the edge.

The eyes open with difficulty, lazily. His head feels like it's in a vice, and his eyes are swimming. It's hard to focus. He turns his head. There's someone sitting in front of him. He looks up with a bleary gaze at the man in front of him.

— You idiot.

The voice is familiar. It sounds clearer. He makes out the features of a familiar face. The ligaments pull and it turns out only to croak:

— Ortega ...

— Ortega has been for almost thirty years. I wouldn't be chained to a bed!.. — The voice of the childhood friend rises, but he immediately stops himself so as not to put pressure on the friend and the patient. He rubs the bridge of his nose. — Your family came by. You survived by a miracle, I won't hide it. By a miracle, Inis.

A tired smile. I didn't have the strength, but I was glad that he was alive.

— I told you so... I'm healing like... a dog....

— Yes, you are a dog.

— Yeah...

the image of someone else's hands and voice, cold, rough, tenacious touches, arises in my mind. The equipment beeps intensely and Dr. Ortega, a scientist and practicing surgeon, pays attention to it.

— I saw him....

— Who?

Ortega frowns, gets up to double-check the ivs, the bandage... With such a chest injury, of course, it is possible to survive, but the chances are slim. And it's true that everything heals on a dog.

— Mave...ot... — He doesn't know why he stammers. There is a pain and constriction in his chest. It's even scary, his heart wouldn't stop.

Ortega freezes, but then continues, ignoring.

— Eros... I saw him... And I survived...

— You said it yourself, you're like a dog. You're superstitious.

— You too...

— I'm a doctor. I can't be superstitious.

— You believe in everything connected with me...

Inis closes his eyes. Yes... He don't believe him. But they've known each other since they were young. Eros believed in everything he believed in.

The image of hands is still frozen by hot touches on the face.

And really, a second chance...