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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 1 month ago

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Academia - The Gala

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, blowjobs, possessiveness, jealousy, oral, p in v, semi-pibloc sex,

Side note: can y'all tell I've never been to a Gala before? I don't know how they donate in those things. Please bare with me.

The perp screamed as Damian flipped him onto the ground, making sure the way he landed would be impactful enough to knock him out for at least a minute.

"Fuck! You fucking brat!" The perp chocked out.

Squatting next to him, Damian flipped his staff to rest it against his shoulder blades, hanging both his arms on it. "You see the rest of your crew over there?" He nodded in the direction of four bodies lying down on the floor of the warehouse, then looked back at the perp currently struggling to take a breath. "Not big talkers, apparently. But you -" he grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him towards himself, the perp yelped, blood dripping from his nose as he struggled against Damian's unyielding grip. "You might still make it out of here alive." He finished.

The perp eyed his men nervously, stammering. "D-did you kill them?"

Damian ignored the question. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, Markus. Where is Roman's shipment arriving to?"

The man's eyes widened at the correct use of his name, and he began to shake.

Damian registered a new stench, his upper lip lifted in digust as he stared down a Marcus. "You better not have fucking pissed yourself. That's disgusting."

Marcus looked like he was about to cry. Damian would bet they were tears of shame rather than pain. He grasped the collar tighter, sneering. "Where did the shipment leave to, Marc? While I'm still in a good mood."

"Y-you fucking psycho!" Marcus was crying now. "Do you have any idea what he'll do to me if I tell you?"

"It can't be worse than what I'll do to you if you don't." Damian said before punching the crying man in the nose, making sure to crack something. Marcus cried out in pain.

"Talk." Damian prompted.

Bloody lips trembling, Marcus confessed the address.

Damian nodded, sure to memorize the location. "What time is it coming in?" He asked.

Marcus's features twisted pathetically as he slurred, "Come on, man. I already told you-"

"What time is it coming in?" Damian sneered. Hating to have to repeat himself.

"E-eleven-Thirty!" The criminam cried. "Pick up's at midnight."

Damian stood up then, kicking Marcus right in the nose, making sure to knock him out this time.

"Jesus christ, kid." Jason spoke in his ear. "Remind me to play bats this footage if ever gives me shit about how I do interrogations."

"That won't stop me from giving you shit." Batman's voice came on the line.

Withholding a retort about Jason calling him "kid." All Damian said was, "it's not like I killed him."

"Right, no, of course." The red hood laughed in his comm. "You just re-organized the order his face, much more merciful."

"Ugh, been on the receiving end of that." Dick's voice joined the line. "Now look at oir baby boy, all grown up and graduated from scratching to dislocation."

"Aww." Barbara's voice supplied helpfully.

Damian rolled his eyes. "I was dislocating men twice my size back when you were still running around in a leotard."

He was so grateful he got to work on his own suit, with a fabric that wasn't skin fucking tight had at fully covered him in bulletproof Kevlar yet still allowed for a full range of motion. If he were forced to wear the same suit as his eldest brother, Batman would have been his first victim.

"Oooh there are those claws!" Tim now joined the line, along with Stephanie, who supplied the helpful words: "scratchy scratchy" in the background.

Clearly, his family was having a much less fun night that he and were desperate for some entertainment. Ignoring them, Damian climbed up from the warehouse and onto the roof of a neighboring, taller building to get a better vantage point. The wind ruffled his hair as the sounds of gotham: sirens, choppers, and car horns, as well as the waves from the nearby river filled his ears. Inhaling the cool air and exhaling, the fog from his mouth traveling with the wind. He switched onto a different line. "Oracle, I need coordinates to the Conrad docks port hanger number 9."

"Roger that, Robin. Shall I send for back up?"

"No need." He said. "I can't handle this myself."

And he did. Carrying out a perfect stealth mission and stealing a crate of the new drug that Black Mask was trying to push on the city, along with the files that exposed every crooken cop currently on his payroll. The files found their way to commissioner Gordon's coffee table that night. The corrupt cops were behind bars by morning.

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Damian didn't know how to explain, but he was having a particularly good day. That is, until he heard your name being said by one of the guys from your program.

"There she is. What was her name again?"

"Y/n, I think?" The boy, a skinny eng student from your physics class, was talking to his friend.

Damian followed his gaze to you, sitting by yourself in a yellow checkered blazer and skinny jeans, with a neat ponytail tide by a yellow ribbon. You were sitting on one of the benches at the campus atrium, chewing on a cut-up apple as you read something on your computer, the screen illuminating your face.

"I got two tickets for the howling mystery this Thursday. I'm gonna ask her to go with me."

Like hell. Damian's nostrils flared, and he turned to walk in their direction.

Just as his friend replied sardonically. "She doesn't hit me as the type that listens to hard metal -"

"Hey," they both turned at the sound of Damian's voice. The boy who talked about asking you out straightening up. Unimpressed, Damian trampled him in size. "How are you guys doing?" He asked casually.

"Fine, thanks." The friend replied, looking at Damian in disbelief that he was used to by now. "You?"

"Listen, were you guys just in Atkinson's lecture?" He pointed his thumb in the direction of the room behind himself.

The two guys nodded.

"He's in there right now explaining the Pokhozhaev identity problem that was on the midterm." Damian lied.

Their eyes widened. And one of them asked. "Fuck really?"

Damian nodded. "Yeah. If you hurry, maybe you could still catch him."

"Dude, thanks!" One of them clapped him on the back, and Damian offered them one his signature easygoing smiles as they went down the hall and back into the lecture, none the wiser.

He himself made his way to sit beside you, leaning back on the bench. "Hey,"

You looked up at him, eyes widening when you realized it's him. You quickly collected yourself, offering a poline smile. "Damian, hi."

"What are you doing this Thursday?" He asked.

You thought about it for a moment, checked your calendar to see that your midterms were done by Wednesday. "Nothing, why?"

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You looked at yourself in the mirror, assessing the outfit. The dress you wore was a velvet, red form-fitting one that accentuated your silhouette, it reach the top of your knees with an asymmetrical hem that added an edgy touch, showcasing the velvet knee high black boots under it. A deep neckline showed the gold necklace that you never took off, with its matching earrings - gifts from your parents. You let your hair down, framing your face in subtle curls and draping over your shoukders. Your makeup was subtle with a focus on your eyes and red lipstick. The look you were going for was a combination of chic and classy.

A knock on your door caused you to open it, mouth dropping slightly when you did.

Damian Wayne stood at your doorstep wearing a suit. Confident posture and athletic physique. His tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and a trim waist. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and those green eyes of his sparkled over you with appreciation. You realized why he'd told you to wear red, a well-chosen tie hung from his neck, matching your dress in color.

"Hey, perfect girl," he gave you an appreciative look.

"Oh wow," you let the words out without thinking. Clearing your throat, you offered a shy smile. "You look really nice."

"Thanks," he put his hand in his pocket, eyes roaming your body, and he shook his head. "So do you. Very nice."

He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him lead you to his Camaro.

"Will you not be drinking?" You asked, seated at the passenger seat.

"I dont drink." He said.

You nodded, thinking that if he wanted to elaborate, he would have. "I read up about that Gala. It's a charity event to raise money for the new wing in the children's hospital, right?"

"Right."

"I'd like to contribute, if that's still allowed." You said.

Damian smirked to himself, a dimple appearing as his perfect teeth came into view. "Do you know how much Wayne Ent. donated, y/n?"

"No," you confessed.

"You're welcome to contribute, but trust me, they're set for at least the next four years. And that's including construction."

"Wow," you couldn't bring yourself to even inagine the amount that entailed. Suddenly, your donation felt like barely anything. Your shoulders slumped slightly, and then you shook it off. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'd still like to."

He turned to give you a look, the meaning of which you couldn't decipher. "Have you ever donated at a gala before?"

You shookyour head.

He offered you his hand, and you took it.

At last, he spoke. "I'll show you how."

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The way he commanded attention in any room with mere silence should be studied, you thought.

His hand brushed your hip, leading you inside the massive banquet hall. You looked around, and massive chandeliers hung from the intricately painted fresco on the ceiling as the velvet carpet was rolled out under expensive shoes. The sound of chatter and clinging glasses was accompanied by classical music. This was an entirely different world than the one you were used to. Still, you looked around in fascination.

"Is that real Chanel?" Damian's question drew you from your thoughts. You turned to see him eyeing your dress.

You tensed. "... no." You looked down, blushing as you were painfully reminded that someone of his stature could tell the difference. Slightly embarrassed, you quietly confessed, "Mainstream brands can make good knock offs when they want to."

He nodded, gaze drifting back over the crowd. As did you, the sea of people in front of you was clad in high brand designer gowns, suits, and perfumes. Granted, your outfit was by no means cheap, and in fact, it took you a day of work to make up for it. But if he could see that your clothes were a high fashion copy, so could everyone here. In your clothes you felt like you didn't belong. For the first time in your life, you felt... cheap.

You just hoped his lack of a reaction meant a lack of judgment. Damian came both from old money and from new money, as the heir to the top weapons mogul in the world, he was used to a certain standard.

Either way, you may not have been rich but you weren't struggling. Per se.

You glanced at him, about to wonder if he felt embarrassed to be seen with you. But after thinking of it for too long, you realized... you don't care.

Very grateful to both of your parents who worked blue-collar jobs to raise you and your siblings, you learned the value of appearance from a young age. You didn't come from the best neighborhood, but you couldn't tell from the way your family presented itself. Your townhouse was always clean and well decorated. Your mother made sure to always have homemade food and put all of her kids through some kind of extracurricular activities. Which is how you go into maths and sciences. You relied on scholarships and the goodness of your teachers to make it where you did. And you never wished things were different; your life made you who you were today.

So what if you didn't wear designer brands? You had immaculate fashion sense even if it was affordable.

And suddenly, you caught yourself smiling. Suddenly, everyone's facial expressions didn't look so judgmental. Someone cleared their throat beside you, and you turned to face a beautiful couple.

The man was immediately recognizable. Matching in height with Damian, Bruce Wayne looked every bit the billionaire playboy in his classic black suit jacket, accessorized with golden cufflinks, crisp white shirt, and a black bow tie. His hair was stylized and polished. Sharp facial features, visibly similar to his son's, and a well-groomed stubble enhanced his masculine charm. He held a confident, charismatic expression that exuded mystery.

He held by the waist a woman in an elegant, form-fitting black evening gown with a daring cut at the front. Her hair was styled in an updo. A statement necklace hung around her neck. Her look complemented Bruce's style while showcasing her own elegance. She gave youband Damian a knowing smile.

"Y/n, this is my father." Damian introduced you.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne." You smiled at his father and offered to shake his hand.

He took your hand in a firm grip. "Y/n," his deep voice, also similar to Damian's, greeted you. "You interned for Wayne Industries this summer, am I correct?"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly. "In R&D. It was an amazing opportunity, sir. You run a truly unique organization."

Bruce's grin widened. "Well, I'm glad to hear. Your team lead wrote a great review after you were done. When you graduate, we'd be lucky to have you."

Your cheeks certainly reddened by now, and you felt like you were out of breath as you stuttered out a "Thank you." Or at least you hoped you did. You were pretty sure you had blacked out for a moment.

You couldn't tell Damian how grateful you were for his hand on your lower back. The touch rooting you and making you feel less intimidated, or at least protected by him.

"Thank you, Father." Damian's tone was slow but menacing. "I know young, smart, and pretty are your type, but maybe try not to steal my date? Especially when you have your own..." He gave the woman a pointed look.

She and Bruce shared a knowing look before she turned to you and said in a soft, cat-like taunt. "Careful honey. The more territorial they are, the harder it is to tell if they wish to love you..." She eyed Damian in a way that, for some reason, upset you. "Or own you."

Damian's hand tightened around your waist. The woman caught the movement before her gaze returned to yours. It felt like the air around your was a hundred degrees golder. You felt goosebumps on the back of your neck when she said. "Soon enough, you'll be lucky if Damian lets any man near you."

"I think I see the mayor." Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension, and led the woman away. "We should say hello."

When they were gone, you took in a deep breath, turning to Damian, you wispered. "Was that your mother?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Thank God no." He smiled down at you, his hand rubbing circles on your back. "Did she scare you?"

"She did."

"Yeah, my father's always had a type." He spoke in disdain. For a moment, it almost looked like he was the parent who was dissappointnent in his child's choice in partners.

A small smile crept across your lips. "What's your mother like -"

He lifted your chin and placed a kiss on your lips. A polite way to shut down your question. He pulled back an inch to whisper. "I don't want to talk about my parents anymore." Against your lips.

Message received, you nodded against him. Throughout the night you met a lot of interesting people. Of course, all of them had already known Damian. And they seemed happy to interact with you both. Shy and inexperienced in small talk, you let Damian take the lead. He answered their eager questions with ease, and you noted the way men and women hung on to his every word.

The whole time, Damian's hands never let you go, visibly claiming you in front of whatever audience you had. You took up a rather interesting conversation with a man who word for the district attorney. You nodded eagerly, agreeing with every word as he said. "It's just a different way of thinking. A mathematical one."

"Those are the kinds of conversations I want to be a part of in my line of work." You admitted.

His smiled. "I'm sure you will. If you're eager enough to make it happen. Give me a call if you ever want to come see our unit at work." He handed you a business card, and you took it, nodding gratefully.

Suddenly, you felt Damian slide up from your hip to your neck, his fingers drawing circles on your collarbone. You turned to look at him, seeing his tongue poking his cheek as he eyed the man you were talking to.

"Well." The man cleared his throat. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," you said before you were led away. Into the hall, away from the crowd.

"Where are you going?" You asked as Damian pulled you into what looked like a conference room, shutting the door behind you and pressing you against it. You looked up at him, squirming under his heated gaze. "Damian, is everything okay?"

"Leave it to you to make a two hundred dollar dress look like it was worth two thousand." He growled against your ear.

"Thank you?" You wimpered in question, unsure how to take the words.

"They were all looking at you like they wanted to take you home with them." He wispered, kissing you hard. "But they can't. You're mine."

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from moaning. The woman's words from earlier began playing in your mind. You saw Damian the way she described. Possessive, territorial. You couldn't understand why it both scared and excited you.

"Say it." He ordered. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours." You don't know why you obeyed so quickly. But the words felt right on your tongue.

"Damn right." He wispered, before kissing you hard. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groaned against your mouth. "I win. Out of all those men. I win."

The flattering words made you smile. It was the first time someone said something like that to you. To have it be Damian Wayne, of all people.

Eager for more of his praise, you sunk down to your knees in front of him, looking up to meet his gaze as you unbuckled his belt, lowering his pants and boxers. You bit your lip when you saw his erection, tongue sneaking out to lick up his shaft. Damian was bigger than anyone you've been with. You ran your hands over the hard muscles of his stomach before taking him in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

"Fuck yes, baby." He groaned as his fingers pulled into your hair.

You whimpered around him.

"Finger yourself while you suck my dick. Get yourself ready." He ordered.

You obeyed, you index finger touching your clit through under your dress as you whined around his cock. You worked him for minutes on end, switching from sucking to licking his head, delighting in the way his hips trusted against you and his panting sped up above you.

Damian thought he won. But looking up into his glazed dark eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened... all because of you. All at your mercy. You felt like you were the one who won. No one out of all those women in that room could see him like this except you.

His hand pulled you up by your hair, pining you between himself and the wall again. You felt so fragile in his arms. "Did you finger yourself like I ask, baby?" He asked, lifting the hem of your dress.

You nodded.

His finger dipped into your whole, feeling how wet you are. He grinned at you through a hooded gaze. "Good girl."

He made quick work of lining himself up and thrusting into you. You arched off the wall and into him as your arms flew to grasp onto him. Unable to hold back, you begged him. "Damian, please kiss me!"

His lips were on yours in an instant, silencing a string of uncontrollable moans as he thrust into you over and over again. Despit holding your weight and fucking you for a long time, he never got tired. Rather he sped up, panting against your lips. "Come for me, my perfect girl,"

You nodded absentmindedly, grasping onto him, needing him as close as possible as you whispered. "Please, please..."

He thrust into you hard, both of you moaning into each other as you reached your climax. Your limbs shook even as Damian lowered you and led you to a nearby door, letting you both into a bathroom.

He used a cloth to clean up your pussy, correcting your dress and hair, before adressing his own look. All while you were dazed and coming down from the high. He held your shaking body, kissing your lips and cheeks and forehead, telling you you did a good job. At last he asked, "Are you ready to go make your donation?"

You had nearly forgotten. You turned to him, still disoriented but determined to see your goal through. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you saw that Damian did a good job of cleaning you up. Other than your flushed face, you wouldn't have been able to guess what you had just done. He offered his hand, and you took it, allowing yourself to be let out.

#smut #batman #batboys #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dark academia

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bloodibambiidoll · 4 months ago

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Hush, Little Lamb (farmhand!Jj x Farmers Daughter!reader)

Wk: 837. Hair pulling, rough unprotected sex, voyeurism kinda?, secret relationship, reader has the nickname “Lamb” 18+MDNI!!

Your cutoff overalls pool at your ankles as the scratchy hay digs into your palms. It would almost hurt if the pleasure Jj was giving you as he plowed into you from behind wasn’t so all consuming. You clutch onto the straws for purchase, the scratchy pasturage grazing over your exposed nipples each time he hits you with a particularly hard thrust of his hips.

“Takin’ me so well Darlin’, look at you. Prettiest girl I ever did see suckin’ my cock in like it was goddamn made for her.” One of Jj’s hands is gripping onto your ass so tightly that you’re sure it’ll leave marks and god, you don’t even care that you won’t be able to wear your favorite bikini until it fades because you love it when he leaves his marks on you. His other hand has your two braids laced through his large fingers as he yanks on them roughly.

“So good, jayj, so so good.” You whine as you arch your back causing him to hit deeper inside you than before. “Oh fuck!”

“Shh c’mon baby, wouldn’t want your Pops to hear you, would ya?” He uses his grip on your hair to yank your head back so the expanse of your neck is exposed and he can sink his teeth into your delicate skin.

“Oh fuuuuck, yes, please make me cum.” You whine as you push your hips back to meet his aggressive thrusts the best you can, your tight wet cunt swallowing him whole with each push of both of your hips.

“Pretty little lamb fell victim to the big bag wolf, look at you. S’pretty for me. Beggin’ me to cum.” Jj releases his grip on your hair so he can grab onto your jaw, he squishes your cheeks together, his blue irises drinking in the fucked out look on your face. “You wanna cum? Beg for it.”

“Please, let me cum on your cock, I’ll be so good for you, I’ll do anythin’ - fuck!” You’re cut off when he bends his knees a little, angling his hips so his cock hits you even deeper. He brings his fingers up to your lips and you take the hint, immediately sucking them between your lips.

“Yeah, that’s right, get em’ nice n’ wet for me, sugar.” Jj pulls them from your warm, hot, mouth so he can snake his hand between the two of you and rub his slick digits against your puffy clit.

“Oh my god, yes, yes, yes. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum on your cock.” Your moans increase in volume as your pussy starts to flutter around his thick cock and Jj can feel his balls start to tighten.

“Baby, you know I love it when you talk like that but I’m gonna need you to quiet down, alright?” Jj continues his ministrations on your clit as he brings his other large, calloused hand up to muffle your pornographic moans. “Shh, just cum for me.”

Your eyes roll back and your pussy squeezes around his cock as Jj hits you with deep, hard, precise strokes of his hips. The clapping of skin on skin and your muffled whines bounce off the thick barn walls as he brings you to your end.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl. S’good for me, sugar. Gonna fuck this pussy so full it’ll be drippin’ down your legs while you sit at the dinner table with your parents actin’ all innocent. When you’re really just a little whore for me, huh?” The slight shake of your head and the little whimpers leaving your lips that he can feel against his palm send him over the edge. Jj’s hips still against your own as his cock twitches inside you, filling you with ropes of his cum.

“Goddamn.” Jj lets out a soft chuckle as he pulls out of you and grips onto your hips to flip you towards him. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that?”

“Yeah? Well you’re not so bad yourself, farm boy.” You smile up at him sweetly as you loop your hands around his neck, looking at him like he practically hung the stars. He gives you that goofy smirk that always has butterflies erupting in your stomach before leaning down to kiss you in the way that never fails to make you weak in the knees.

You start to get lost in the kiss, not even caring that you’re still half dressed when you’re snapped from your little bubble by the sound of your dads voice calling your name.

“Where ya at, lamb? It’s time for supper!” You quickly jump apart from Jj as you hear him growing closer, hastily adjusting your clothes.

“I’m comin’ Pa!! I was just checkin’ on the baby goats is all!!” You grab onto Jj’s face, pulling him in for a chaste kiss before running away from him towards your house. Taking his heart with you. He watches after you dreamily until your back door is closed and you’re out of sight.

#farmers daughter!reader #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj obx #jj obx imagine #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank concept #Dolly writes

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 6 months ago

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Bigby Wolf x Reader Headcanons (NSFW)

Oh ho ho, pookie >:)

I tried making this gender neutral

NSFW alphabets are gonna come back, idk how tho. I may make em Ao3 exclusive to promote it?

🌙 Just from looking at the disgruntled sheriff, you wouldn't even think of him being anything but a top- But he's very much a switch. As much as he loves dominating you in bed, he also loves relinquishing control and letting you take the reigns. He will never admit it, but he loves being spoiled in bed.

🌙 He started out absolutely sucking with aftercare. It wasn't because he didn't want to do it, it was because he never really had the experience. Bigby's a loyal dog and he's so ready to wait on hand and foot to take care of you when you're both spent.

🌙 Bigby loves to please you. Others, not so much. But you? He would drop everything just to satisfy you sexually if he could. Any way you want it, he'll do it: Orally, fingering, rough, soft, on the table or bent over the kitchen counter. You name it.

🌙 He has a not-so-little secret where he wants to fuck you on his desk. He wants to bat the papers and folders off, push you down and mount you. He knows you would be down for it, the issue is that his office is right down the hall from the Business Office and so many Fables - especially Snow and King Cole - walk past every day.

🌙 Condomns sadly don't really for Bigby. It's not that he doesn't like the use of them, they just don't seem to last; Especially if Bigby turns during sex. Not only that, but Bigby cums a lot, especially if you both haven't done it in a while.

🌙 He feels bad when you're both intimate sometimes and he suddenly wolfs out. It's always a shock to both of your systems, especially yours as you're not needing to accommodate the stretch of a bigger and girthier cock on top of him being a lot rougher than he usually is.

🌙 But fuck if he doesn't love it when you spur him on, knowing that you're also spurring on the beast that lies just beneath his skin. It drives him wild when you tease him to the point of him turning only to feign innocence before sauntering away, swaying your hips and throwing a glance over your shoulder like you're not about to get fucked into the nearest surface.

🌙 When he does fuck you as a werewolf, he loves if when you dig your nails into his beastly shoulders and tug on his soft fur. The pain from pulling just does something to him, sending little electric shocks right down his dick that's currently plowing into you. You can also earn bonus points if you call him a good boy.

🌙 He prefers to cum inside of you, some primal need because so satisfied when he spills his warm seed inside of you whether it's in your mouth or your sex. There are also times when he fights those urges and cums on your face or your ass. His favorite place is on your stomach so he can lick it and then kiss you.

🌙 He has a little thing that he's ashamed of, only because it's tied to something obvious from his past: Bigby loves it when you wear the color red. To anyone else, it would end with Bigby being berated because of what happened with Red Riding Hood (it's not from that though), but you don't do that. Instead, you often surprise him by wearing red underwear under your clothes.

🌙 He's not a very talkative person, the less the best really. But with you? He's talking a hell of a lot more. In the bedroom, he's always saying something; Encouraging you, complimenting you, begging for you.

🌙 He too loves to tease. Often pinning you to the mattress, calloused fingers gliding gently over your sensitivities as he speaks softly, telling you all about what he's going to do to you in his deep and scratchy voice. He loves it when you squirm and plead for him to shut the fuck up and start doing something to you.

🌙 If you have a thing for spanking, he totally stole the Crowd Control paddle from the overcrowded evidence room. He even patched up the splintered wood and re-wrapped the cotton grip. Although he would definitely prefer his hand, he does like the noises you make when you get the paddle to your poor behind.

🌙 Is it any shock to you that his favorite position to fuck you in is doggy style? He always gets an earful when you tease him about it afterwards, scoffing playfully and rolling his eyes before he states that he can find better positions to fuck you in. Mating press is another one of his favorites, especially when he wolfs out.

🌙 Bigby isn't the type of guy to really like to inflict a lot of pain. Spanking and choking are great and all, but he won't really push past those borders into something deeper unless you both really talk things out. He's already a rough and strong person, one wrong move and he can seriously hurt you and he would never forgive himself for it.

🌙 He's an ass man for sure. If you ever walk past him in tighter pants, he can always be caught staring right at the curve of your ass. He doesn't blush and look away and try to deny it, instead, he gets a shit-eating grin and fully accepts he was caught before offering that he can take a break if you want to teach him a lesson.

🌙 He's not a fan of roleplaying. He's pretty awkward socially and he would often fumble words or straight-up forget you both were doing so in the first place. It often gets funny when you would say something sexually weird and Bigby would instantly drop character and say the most Bigby thing imaginable.

🌙 Bigby has the strength to pull you into whatever position he wants you to be in. Even when you've climaxed for the umpteenth time and he's still ramming into your poor hole, he's easily holding you up by your hips, shoulders or waist until he's spent himself inside of you.

🌙 He's not the type to smoke after sex. Instead, he often wraps one of his big muscular arms around your waist and drags you as close as possible against his chest and indulge himself in your scent. He insists that you always smell better when you climax.

🌙 He doesn't drift off right away, often kept up by his racing thoughts and heart. He tries to make some light conversation while you're both snuggled close, but he leaves you to rest if you drift off. It's often hard sometimes to calm down if the beast inside wanted to come out to play but he didn't let it.

#bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #the wolf among us #twau

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 8 months ago

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You did so good on the Dad Husk!!! 10/10!!

Would you wanna do another one, a little on the darker side, but Charlie finds out Husk’s daughter has a SH problem and tells him? Maybe he knew she used to have an issue with it but didn’t know she relapsed?

thank you soooo much!

i am hoping that i did this prompt justice. it was a bit difficult for me to write, but i made this more fluff and comfort. and figured it could give someone else some comfort like a warm hug.

WARNINGS: there is definite mentions of SH (self harm) in this.

this is also a psa before the fic, i am not a therapist nor a doctor or anyone knowledgeable really at all. i am not to take the place of a medical professional.

but if this fic resonates in any way, please know I love you, i care about you and please talk to a trusted friend, family member, professional etc if you or someone you know actively self harms.

the trevor project has resources available and counselors to talk too as well. there is also crisis text line too, either are there if you or someone you know is in crisis.

shit does get better and if it’s not better it’s not the end.

without further ado, the fic:

“Hey Husk?” Charlie approaches the bar slow, her voice going up an octave as she speaks. Husk knows she’s either going to ask for something impossible, it’s a really important thing to her or there’s some

bad news.

“What’s goin’ on, Princess?” Husk asks, fully facing Charlie and giving her his full attention.

“I-Well…” Charlie stutters. “I’m not sure how say this, but I’m concerned.”

“Just spit it out, however ya need to.” Husk directs.

“I saw, Y/N, and you know how they’ve been wearing long sleeves?” Charlie asks. Husk’s eyes widen, like he knows where this is going.

“No.” Husk says, looking at Charlie almost like he was pleading with her to tell him he was lying.

“Yes. I saw fresh marks because they had their sleeves rolled up and they didn’t know I was there.” Charlie says, tears prickling her eyes. “And I didn’t want to do anything and just got you because-“

“The last time they ran.” Husk finished for Charlie, sighing and putting a closed sign on the bar. “Where were they?”

“Upstairs, near the library.” Charlie points up the stairs.

“Okay.” Husk puts his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything that either of you need.” Charlie says standing there and watching as Husk nods and makes his way upstairs.

Husk looks near the library and doesn’t see Y/N. He sighs and then goes to their room, peaking in and seeing them asleep on the bed. He knew they were a deep sleeper so he quietly made his way over to the other side of the bed. He gently pulls up your sleeves and sees the fresh wounds on your arm. He closes his eyes and breathes, trying not to cry and wake you. He summons a first aid kit and treats the wounds on each arm and then wraps your arms in gauze. He cleans everything up and then sits back down, gently rubbing his claws through your hair. You slowly wake and see Husk there and smile, a bit confused.

“Sorry, I needed a nap.” You murmur, your voice scratchy.

“It’s all right, kid.” Husk smiles at you, the tears he’s been fighting back well up quickly. You look at him, concerned.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” You sit up quickly, your hand going to his face and swiping at one of the tears trailing down his face and then your eyes widen, seeing your arms bandaged. You piece everything together quickly. “How did you find out?”

“How did you expect me not to?” Husk asks, looking at you. Your own tears coming quickly.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say before sobs overtake your body. Husk pulls you into him, wrapping his arms and wings around you.

“You don’t have ta be sorry. I just need you to talk to me. You promised last time you would. I’m never too busy for ya.” Husk says, pulling you back to look you in the eyes.

“I know, but there was so much going on… And I didn’t want to be a burden.” You whisper.

“You are never. Never a burden Y/N. You hear me?” Husk says fiercely. You nod, crying harder. “I will always be here for you. I will always be in your corner. I’ve got ya, night, day and even in double death.” You nod again, burying your face in the crook of his neck and clutching him to you. He hugs you tightly and kisses the top of your head.

“We’ll get through this, you and me, but we ain’t on our own anymore. There are others who love you and care about you so much, okay?” Husk asks you.

“I know. I know Dad. It’s just… hard sometimes.” You whisper, not looking at him.

“I know it is, but that’s why we have people we care about that we can lean on, ya know. That’s rare here.” Husk murmurs, holding you to him. “Just relax, you’re all right and we can talk more in a bit.” He says as he can feel you relaxing against him again. “Getcha somethin’ to eat and some water and talk about a plan.”

You sigh and whisper , “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #husker x reader #hazbin husker #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #husk headcanons #husker hazbin hotel #husk x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #dad!husk x reader #dad!husk

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luveline · 1 year ago

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What about Steve with a cry baby reader? Like she cries at everything and May be Steve is telling her about something hard but also not that deep like a fight with his parents or they r discussing exes and she starts crying bc Steve didn’t deserve heartbreak

thank you for your request! —steve tells you about his relationship with his parents and gets the comfort he deserves a few years late. fem!reader. hurt/comfort ♡ 1.7k CW mentioned child neglect

Steve indulges you every now and then with old movies. You're obsessed with those musical movies from the fifties, soft colours, cool cat leading men and blunt heroines. Your very favourite are the ones with love triangles, though Steve hasn't ever thought you'd like to be entangled in one yourself.

Entangled in him, absolutely. "That is ridiculous," you say softly, sitting entirely in his lap, an arm around his neck and another his waist. "She loves him."

"She does." When the heroine of Young At Heart realised one of her love interests didn't have a present for the birthday party they were going to attend together, she bought one for him so he wouldn't feel embarrassed —yet she's planning on marrying the other man. "Poor Frank. He looks shocked."

"I'd be shocked. Lucky me, you've never sprung a sudden engagement on me," you say, your fingers rubbing mindlessly into his side. Your affection is often thoughtless. You care for him like another must-do, in time and rhythm with your breathing.

"To another girl, you mean?" he asks warmly.

You fluster and rub your cheek against the collar of his shirt, rolled and worn from an endless day on the couch together. He should go up and shower soon before bed, only you feel right in his lap, in no way light but a weight he's happy to bear.

You're skewed sideways, your legs laying across the rest of the couch, his legs kicked up on the coffee table. He keeps trying to force himself up for a shower and you keep leaning into his front or scratching your nails from his ribs to his hip, convincing him otherwise.

"If we ever… got engaged," you begin unsurely, eyes on the television to avoid his gaze, he's sure, "would we have a nice party like that?"

"When we get engaged we'll do whatever you want. We can have a party, send out ivory invitations with eleven point four Times New Roman font. All the trimmings."

"Eleven point four." Your eyes soften with your smile. "What do you know about invitations?"

"My mom had tons of stupid parties. She didn't always send out invitations, but when she did, she'd have them done right. I got to lick the envelopes."

"Lucky Stevie."

You shift backwards so your weight is on the couch rather than Steve, your back to the armrest and your thighs over his legs rather than on top of him. He can see your face better in this new position, and it's fitting: the love interest on TV starts spouting about how beautiful the heroine is, how her face is a tribute to the heavens if there ever were one. Smiling as you are, Steve has to agree.

"What were they like, the parties?"

Steve bites the tip of his tongue. "Fine," he says eventually. "They were fine. They'd set up buffet tables covered in hors d'oeuvres and everyone would walk around in their cocktail dresses and tailored suits drinking champagne and whiskey." His tone lightens toward the end, a put upon theatric for you to make it sound less snotty.

"Did you wear a suit?" you ask.

"Button down, usually."

"Nice! I bet you looked adorable. Do you have any photos?"

"Honestly, baby?" Steve squeezes your leg. "I was miserable, then. You don't wanna see any photographs. I was never smiling."

"What?"

"I hated my life. All my mom cared about was making us look like a perfect family, and all my dad cared about was work. I was happier when they started taking months-long business trips to Missouri."

"What do you mean?" you ask, putting your hand against his face. It's smaller than his but still big, still encompassing as you stroke his cheek and scratchy stubble. "You… what?"

He tells you because he knows you love him. It makes a hard thing easier, being loved. "Nothing, just, things were bad. My parents didn't even really like me, you know? They bounced me between little league and swim team and basketball when I was old enough. Track, cross country running, everything. Killer sun tan every summer."

Any trace of a smile is gone from your face. "They didn't like you? What are you talking about?"

"I was an annoying kid," he says. "You know how I was when we first met? Imagine that and worse."

"There was nothing wrong with you when we first met." Your lip trembles.

"Baby," he says quickly, on an exhale, the word half love and half apology, "don't be upset. I'm sorry, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I'm making it sound worse than it was."

Your eyes turn glassy. It's awful, being so close he can see the tears well, collecting in the corners of your eyes. You stroke his cheek tentatively and ignore them.

"It was fine, sweetheart, really, I had everything. They'd leave me a fucking credit card when they went away, I never had to ask for anything. They gave me a car for my fifteenth birthday… I think they thought it was my sweet sixteen."

Your face crumples like a wet paper towel. You try to fight it but you're a heavy crier and you always have been. It shocked Steve when you first met, how quickly you can fall into tears, but it doesn't necessarily mean you're extremely upset. He can maybe fix it before you give yourself a headache if he tries.

"I'm sorry," he says again, dotting a kiss on the meat of your thumb. "I didn't tell you so you'd feel sorry for me."

"I do feel sorry. I feel so sorry," you say quietly.

"Don't cry…" Steve shifts into a better sitting position as the first tear trips over your waterline. Your hand falls to his collar. Your fingertips rub his collarbone. "I was lucky, I had everything I needed."

"You just told me your parents didn't like you, Stevie, I wouldn't call you lucky. That they went away for months– How old were you?"

He winces. "Fifteen?"

"You were still a kid."

"I was old before my time."

"No, you weren't." You sniffle. "I didn't know about that, Stevie. I didn't know about any of this, I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I never told you."

You bring both hands up now, placed gently against his chest, talking to him with a tenderness that makes his body ache, "If you think that it didn't matter, I'm really sorry. Imagining you that young, sitting there thinking they didn't like you? That breaks my heart." You're not overly dramatic despite the tears, but you say it with conviction. "You're not supposed to feel that way."

Steve laughs quietly. "I know that, dummy. Why're you this upset about this? It was years ago."

"Because it happened to you," you say, pouting at him sympathetically. "I don't know. I guess I figure how heavy that must be carrying around this whole time, thinking they didn't like you and that it was your fault."

Steve tries to say something, his mouth dry as sand, but he supposes he had said that, in a way. It is what he thought, what he thinks. If he were better, if he were more interesting, more attractive, more talented, they'd stick around. He pushed himself in every sport they'd let him play hoping he'd see his dad standing in the bleachers one day.

"You're not annoying," you say, wiping your tears. You square your expression into a steadier set. "You're amazing. If they couldn't see it then and if they refuse to see it now, that isn't something you did, Stevie. Maybe they gave you a car and an Amex card, but what you deserved most was–" Your determination to calm down wanes as your voice turns airy and scratchy, like you're trying not to sob. "You deserved to feel cared about. 'N' I'm sorry you didn't, because I love you more than anything."

Steve pulls you in for a hug. Mostly because you need one, but it doesn't hurt to hide his face from you know. His eyes burn, his heart pounding in his throat and between his ears as his arms climb up the length of your back. He focuses on that, the feeling of his hands and his bare forearms against your soft shirt. His chin goes over your shoulder and he presses the side of his head to yours with more force than he intends.

"Don't wind yourself up over it," he murmurs. "I know it sucks, I promise I get it, and I love that you're sorry, I love you, but it's not worth crying over. They're not worth it."

You tuck your arms behind his shoulder. Steve indulges in your smell, the warmth of your closeness. Talking about his parents is like poking at a purple scar. It's healed for the most part, but it's far from invisible. He usually ignores it all.

"Is it weird that I'm kind of vindicated by your, uh, reaction?" he asks under his breath, as though someone might hear him and call him out for it. "I don't want you to cry, but…"

"I'm in your corner." You pull him impossibly closer. "I'll always be upset for you. Even if you don't think it matters anymore, that's the kind of stuff that stays with you, you know?" You kiss his hair. Twice. A third time. "Sorry, I know I always make stuff about me, crying 'n' all."

"That's not true," he murmurs, rubbing your back.

He hates that you're crying, but he's glad, too. Glad all that pain isn't made up. Your reaction is proof he didn't just imagine how much it hurt to always want something he couldn't quite grasp.

"You didn't deserve that," you say.

"I know."

"I love you."

He knows that too. "I love you. You gotta stop crying, okay? You need your tears for the end of the movie when he crashes his car. How are you gonna bawl your eyes out for Sinatra if you've wasted them all on me?"

You laugh wetly. "I think I've made a wet patch in your hair."

Steve relaxes, reassured at the sound of your laugh, precious as spun silver even doused in waterworks. "That's cool. I needed a shower anyway."

—

thank you for reading!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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chimcess · 8 months ago

Text

Waterlog || pjm (2)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.5k+ 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: PINING, sexual tension, sad backstory, parental issues, more than likely bad swimming terminology, probably some bad work out advice, i'm trying my best lol, tae is too much but i love him, talks of past drug use (not reader or jimin), strong language, mental health things, medication use, allusions to depression, did i say pining?, reader is horny and awkward 99% of the time, can we blame her?, mood swings, i think they are so cute together, i promise more romance is coming soon A/N: Howdy. I know we're having a pretty slow start, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. I enjoy a good slow burn, especially when there's so much awkward sexual tension involved. Thanks for reading!!!

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Waking up the next morning, I was greeted by a loud knocking on my door. Stumbling, I told whoever it was that I was on my way. The knocking stopped but was quickly followed by Violet’s loud voice. My things were here, and I needed to let the movers inside.

“Christian and Kook are here already,” She added. “Managed to get an extra pair of hands, too.”

I changed into a pair of jeans and threw on a pull over. It was not supposed to be as cold today, but I did not think a short-sleeved shirt would be enough to keep me warm. Sliding into my boots, I opened the front door.

Violet was there, her hair in a braid again, wearing a blue plaid shirt and bootcut jeans. Beside her was Jimin, a large smile already on his face. Two other men were here. I was certain I had seen one of them before. He was very handsome with a heart shaped face and soft chin, large, asymmetrical brown eyes, and downturned lips. His hair was very obviously dyed, the blue so bright when the sun hit it my eyes hurt.

The other man was less familiar. His hair was black, styled into a trendy wolf cut, with his bangs pulled out of his face into a ponytail. He had a pure, youthful, and elegant look about him, and a few piercings. There was one on his eyebrow, one on his bottom lip, and so many on each ear I could not count them all. If I could describe him in a single word, it would be cartoonish. His eyes took up most of his face, large and doe-like, with all of his other features soft and small. Like the blue haired man, he was very handsome.

This upset me more than it should have, because despite how wonderful they both looked, all I could think about was how much I preferred Jimin. It was incomparable, actually. While they were certainly my type, I could only see how not Jimin-like their features were.

“Good morning,” I greeted them awkwardly, my voice scratchy. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you,” The blue haired man’s enthusiasm caught me off guard. Despite me never making the move to shake either one of their hands, he reached for mine anyway. He reminded me of a labrador retriever, and I could imagine a tail wagging in time with his vigorous handshake. “I’m Taehyung Kim. I used to watch you, like, all the time back in the day.”

I knew that name. Studying his face a little more, it hit me. Taehyung Kim, a.k.a., The Seal of Michigan, a.k.a, V. I never understood why he had been given that last one, but it must have some sort of meaning to him because the guy lights up when anyone uses it. He was a famous snowboarder and had been to the 2020 winter Olympics. He was just a few months younger than Jimin.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” I gripped his hand back a bit more now. “I watched you at the last Olympics. You did great.”

He blushed and let go of my hand, “I didn’t win anything, but I had a lot of fun.”

That was true. The kid was brand new on the scene and let some of his nerves get to him. I had learned the hard way that hesitation could ruin a great performance, but I was sure he would do better in January. The Winter Olympics were always a few months ahead of summer, and I would surely be watching Taehyung this year. If I was going to spend time with Jimin then I would need to get along with his friends.

“It’s not always about winning,” I tried to comfort him. “I didn’t win every time either.”

That placated him. Jimin quickly introduced me to Jungkook after. He was an NHL player for the Red Wings. I admitted that I had no idea who he was and never really watched hockey before, but that only made Jungkook swear to make me an avid fan before I left Michigan. For some reason, I believed him.

It did not take long for the movers to get all of my furniture and boxes into the house. With the boys’ help, I was tipping the two men much earlier than I anticipated. All three of them insisted on helping me unpack despite me telling them I could do it on my own. The place was entirely too small for the four of us, but we managed to make it work.

I had told them my bedroom was off limits. I unpacked my clothes and put my underwear away. My room was the largest in the house. With enough space for my full-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser, I was pleased. The only downside was not having a closet, but I did not bring anything nice enough for it to really matter. It was inconvenient but not the end of the world.

I was, however, happy to see more color. My blanket was dark orange, pillowcases covered in baby pink cow print, and the otter plushie Namjoon’s mom made me was resting right in between them. I installed some simple shelving above my bed, warmly lit Christmas lights wrapped around the bars, where I displayed my books and a few of my plants. The rest were lined up on the windowsill beside the bed.

Brightly colored art now hung on the walls, a large mirror above my dresser, and a peg board for my earrings made the space feel lived in. Whatever books could not fit on my shelves got stacked and put on the nightstand. I still wanted to buy a rug and curtains, but that was on the bottom of my list of priorities.

The boys were all talking and laughing as they worked which helped me relax. I hated being trapped in quiet spaces. Finished with my room, I went to check in with them and move things around. I doubted any of them would get the knick-knacks just right.

“Don’t worry about the decorations,” I said, announcing my presence. Taehyung was staring at two of my paintings with mild panic. “I’ll take that.”

Snatching the photos, I smiled at him. The living room was coming together nicely. Jungkook pushed the dark green loveseat against the wall and all of my throws were on top of it. My largest potted plant was beside it and I decided then I would keep it there. Moving the throw pillows to the floor, I started to put my wall art up. Hoseok complained that I was going to become a hoarder if I bought any more shit. Andrea, however, said that I had great taste, so I listened to her instead.

“You’re a big face of Earthy colors,” Jungkook said, looking around the house. “Lots of plants, too.”

I shrugged, “My fiancé had a lot of succulents and stuff, so I guess it rubbed off on me after a while.”

In truth, Namjoon not only had succulents and cacti, but an entire apartment filled with plants. He had a small garden in the back, vegetables and herbs growing in despite the weather in Colorado making it difficult. The man had a green thumb and loved taking care of things. I had been in charge of them once we moved in together and learned to love it. Even after he died, I couldn’t imagine not having at least five plants in the house.

I noticed the room had gone eerily quiet. I realized then what I had said. It was the first time I had spoken about Namjoon with any of them. Knowing I had made the atmosphere awkward, I tried to break up the tension.

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

“Black,” His reply was quick. I groaned. He laughed. “What? I like the clean look.”

“It’s not clean,” I argued. “It’s depressing.”

Taehyung took my side, “My house isn’t as decorated as yours, but I have more going on than either one of them. I’m a huge fan of video games and photography so I have a lot of stuff hanging up.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin chimed in from the bathroom. He placed himself in charge of getting that room squared away. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s all cluttered and disorganized."

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

“Dude, you have stuff everywhere,” Jungkook shot back, handing me another picture frame.

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

“You’re so full of shit, Tae,” Jungkook sighed.

“Literally the dumbest thing to lie about,” Jimin snarkily threw in from the bathroom.

“Bullies,” Taehyung was addressing me again and this time I could not help my chuckles. “They always gang up on me.”

As the boys continued to bicker, I worked. I finished hanging up the art above the sofa and got to organizing the throws. Taehyung had already pulled out my rug, and I started figuring out how I wanted to place all of the floor pillows. Namjoon never used the couch, no one in his family did, and I had become so conscious of their comfort that I always had a large array of pillows on the floor for them to use. After a few years, I had joined them, and I kept up the trend once I moved to the Springs. The sofa was little more than decoration.

“Damn, these are nice.”

Looking over my shoulder, I was surprised to see Jungkook holding up one of my medals. I was positive I had not packed it and the box he was hunched over was completely unfamiliar as well. Embarrassment and anger swelled up in my chest. I had placed Minho and Tilly in charge of coordinating with the movers so I could focus on work and training Hoseok before I left. If I had to guess, Tilly had thought it wise to ship over a large package of my most prized possessions for some God forsaken reason.

“I don’t know why those are here,” I hoped my voice sounded playful and carefree. I did not want another tense moment. “One of my friends must have packed them.”

“Holy shit,” Taehyung was now holding the medal. “These are heavy. You have so many.”

Walking over to the box, I took out the rest of the medals. Tilly had only packed four of the eight Olympic medals I owned, probably running out of room. Framed photos of me swimming, with the rest of my team, and my coach were also in the box. My swimsuit from the last Olympics I competed at was folded at the very bottom of the box, my goggles and cap wrapped up in the fabric, and underneath it was something I had not been expecting. A framed photograph.

I remembered that night as if it were yesterday. I was eighteen coming off the back of two major wins and making my mark in the athletic community. I had just moved to Denver; Victor had gotten divorced the year prior and his ex-wife moved to Colorful Colorado taking his daughter with her. My coach demanded he was close enough to see her every weekend. It really did not matter to me where I lived, so it was one of the easier decisions I had to make.

I knew Hoseok lived in the area, and we had always been friendly at the meets we had in common. I ended up getting his number from Ozzie and after getting coffee I knew we would be friends for life. The picture was taken at his New Year’s Eve Party. I needed to get laid, he had said, and he knew a few guys he thought I might hit it off with. That was where I met Namjoon.

He was a college student, fresh faced and stumbling over his words. I was charmed by him almost instantly, even if Hoseok was positive the two of us were too different to last. I could recall the smell of fireworks in the air, the way his voice cracked whenever another one would go off, and how excited his eyes looked whenever I asked him about his major. Namjoon spoke for hours about Philosophy, all of his favorite poets, and the way he believed the universe worked. He was so clumsy it was practically a disability, and the loud sounds were so nerve wracking, he flinched whenever the fireworks boomed.

Picking up the small picture, I smiled. It was taken right after midnight. Hoseok’s sister said we looked so sweet that she could not help herself. I had all but ripped Namjoon’s hair out when the countdown began, kissing him before midnight ever came. His hands rested gently on my hips, and he huffed like he had run a marathon when we finally pulled apart. His breath was hot when he went back in for more, panting into my mouth as I clung to him like an addict. It was a beautiful moment. It was a moment I would never forget.

Suddenly, I was no longer mad at Matilda. I was sure it had been her who did this. Minho would not go through so much trouble if he thought it would upset me. Either way, I was happy to have the picture. While I was no longer in love with Namjoon, my heart slowly healing itself and making space for someone new, I would never forget our time together. It was too perfect, too magical; too loving to forget.

“Is that him?” Taehyung asked. The way he said it told me that he knew what had happened. I doubted there was a person in our world who didn't know. “The guy who died?”

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

“Damn, that’s rough,” Jungkook’s voice was very gentle, and I could hear the compassion in it. “Sorry to hear that. Hope you’re doing okay.”

I smiled at him and nodded, “It was a few years ago.”

Taehyung was the one who broke the moment this time and I was grateful for the reprieve.

“These aren’t all of them, right?” He pointed at the medals still in the box. "Olympic medals, I mean."

I shook my head, “No but I guess she just grabbed the ones I had at my house. The other four I keep at my school. They’re in a case in my office.”

The ones Tilly had packed away were from 2012. Andrea had been the one to convince me to bring my other medals to school. Before that I had them all stored in a box in the deepest corner of my basement. I hated looking at them. Hated everything that they represented. The only reason these had been hanging up was because I could not be bothered taking them down.

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

I shrugged, “No idea. Just keep them in the box for now.”

Truthfully, I had no intention of putting them anywhere. While happy to have the photo of Namjoon and I, my feelings on dragging these things around had not changed. I would be very upset if I lost or damaged any of this stuff. Putting everything away, save the picture, I closed the box back up and placed the photo on my coffee table. I would find a better place for it later.

Like all of the times I had been around him, Jimin bled into the background. I listened for his voice, waited for him to add something to the conversation, but he kept to himself. Even when he left the bathroom and joined the three of us, he only answered in one-word sentences and made sound effects to show he was listening. Taehyung and Jungkook seemed used to it, so I had to believe this was just how Jimin normally was.

“You should come and grab some drinks with us,” Jungkook smiled at me.

The boys were going out for a late lunch since we finished a little later than we had thought we would. I was appreciative that they had invited me out but declined the offer. All of them were disappointed.

“Why not?” Taehyung wiggled a large set of keys at me. I could not imagine what all of them could be for and the sound they made when they moved bothered me. “You worried the food’s going to suck or something?”

I shook my head, laughing, “No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t feel comfortable going to a bar.”

Jimin smiled at me, a small, tight-lipped smile, and I almost laughed at myself when I realized I was holding my breath. I was being ridiculous. I would call Hoseok tonight to get my head screwed back on.

“It’s not a bar,” It was heavenly to hear his voice again. “Taehyung and I don’t drink. Jungkook just likes to sit at the bar so he can watch the games.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. “I guess I can come along then.”

Jimin offered to give me a ride while Jungkook and Taehyung rode in the hockey player's beat up Jeep. He was just as quiet on the ride to the restaurant as he was back at the house, and while I wanted to break him out of whatever shell he had put around himself, I had no idea how. We were supposed to work together and barely spoke. Ozzie was not going to be happy about this.

“What time are we getting your car?”

I jumped, not prepared for the question. His eyes were still on the road, and it looked like he was forcing himself to not look my way. It hurt my feelings, but I knew I would have to get over it. Whatever his problem was, it had nothing to do with me and I would not let it get in between our working relationship.

“Whenever you want to go,” I replied, going back to looking out of the window.

“We’ll pick it up after we eat. My mom invited you over for dinner. by the way. If you're up for it.”

This had been the most he had said all day, but his voice was off. It was embarrassing how quickly I had become attuned to his little mannerisms, but I was so sure that something was wrong with him it was eerie. His tone was flat and disinterested, and I knew I had done nothing to upset him. Something was obviously bothering him, and I would have to silently support him in my own way. I was not comfortable being more upfront and something told me that Jimin would not like my overstepping.

“I might,” I purposely kept my tone light, hoping he did not realize I could see the darkness in his eyes. Looking at him, I asked, “What is she making?”

“Beef and radish stew,” The mundane topic seemed to ease his frown. “She got a yellow corvina from the Asian market yesterday so she’s going to roast it. Do you like fish?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It sounds nice. I’ll go.”

A ghost of a smile graced his pretty face and I felt like I had won the lottery. Carefully composed, I looked back out of the window, hiding my little smile behind my hand. He was quiet again, the only sounds in the car being our breathing, but it felt lighter. Finally, I let myself admire the scenery.

Taehyung and Jungkook were already at the bar when we arrived and as soon as we sat down, the snowboarder was quick to hog all of my attention. While Jungkook watched a baseball game on the big screens, Taehyung talked animatedly about his family. Jimin was quietly sipping on a Coke in the seat next to me. It was strange to see how easily his friends ignored him. Like they knew he did not feel like talking.

“My sisters are both in college,” Taehyung continued to ramble. “Twins. It was a nightmare being the baby brother.”

I nodded along and tried my best to keep up with him. I kept getting distracted by Jimin. He barely moved and seemed to be mindlessly watching the tv. He looked so sad it broke my heart. Still, no one else said anything so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Oh!” Taehyung gasped, noticing a few people who walked in. “I’m going to go say ‘hi.’ It was so great meeting you.”

With a bright smile, Taehyung told the boys about the group and Jungkook decided to join him. Jimin did not even acknowledge he had said anything. Leaving us alone, the restaurant was loud and filled with their chattering.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Picking up the menu the bartender had left with Taehyung when we first arrived, I gave it a quick once over. “We can split an appetizer.”

Jimin looked tired and sad, but I did not know what to say or do for him. We were not lovers, not even friends. We were a pair of strangers who were expected to work together. This seemed much easier over the phone. I took a nervous sip of my drink.

“What are you thinking?” Just the sound of him talking eased my anxiety.

“Uh,” I had barely looked at their menu and pointed to a random item. “Fried pickles?”

Jimin smiled lazily and looked at me, his eyes amused.

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “I just said the first thing I saw.”

Putting his cup down, Jimin grabbed the menu from my hands and laid it flat on the bar. We leaned over the small paper, our knees touching. I could smell his cologne now and my mouth watered. He smelled so good I struggled to focus.

“Most of the shit here is awful,” His voice had more life in it now and I was glad to see the corners of his mouth pulled up. “Only things worth getting are the chips and salsa, fried cheese, and pasties. The pizza is fine, too, but not worth the money.”

Talking distracted him from whatever had been on his mind, and it made Jungkook and Taehyung’s behavior odd. They were obviously very close, but if I could see how much happier he looked when he was shooting the shit, how couldn’t they? They probably knew something I didn’t, but it did nothing but rub me the wrong way. My friends would annoy me until I had no choice but to talk back.

“Chips are usually pretty safe,” We both agreed on it. “Do you just want chips? I don’t mind getting you a burger or something.”

He shook his head, “Like I said, most of the shit here is awful. Don’t waste your money.”

I ordered the chips for us, and the bartender was happy to help us out. This place was pathetically empty save us and the group Jungkook and Taehyung ditched us for. They were very loud and rowdy, something Jimin said was completely normal. Apparently, they all knew one another but he hadn’t felt like spending time with any of them.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, heart pounding. My anxiety over the question was ridiculous, but I felt like this was a good moment to ask. We were both comfortable and the tightness around his eyes was finally eased.

“Just one of those days,” He replied, voice soft.

I sighed, “I get them, too. They’re the fucking worst.”

He chuckled darkly, “It’s like you wake up and that’s already taken all of the energy you had for the day.”

“Why’d you come to the house?” I asked, flagging the bartender for a refill. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you bailed.”

Jimin flushed, “I said I was coming so I came.”

No, I thought, you thought I was going to be mad if you hadn’t shown up. Hamilton had this poor kid so fucked up and scared it pissed me off. As long as I knew Matt, he had always been an ass, but to think he had his trainee putting shit before his mental health and wellbeing made whatever sliver of respect I had for him vanish.

I took a long sip of my drink, “We can’t work together if you don’t talk to me. That will piss me off way more than you canceling on me.”

“Okay,” He let out a very large breath. “I’ll let you know next time.”

As we ate our chips, we moved into safer waters. Jimin was still less talkative in person, but nowhere near as tense as he had been all morning. I found that music was one of his favorite things, and I discussed my own interests in more depth and detail than I ever had before. Jimin’s taste was varied but stuck mostly in 90s R&B and soft Indie artists I had never heard of. At some point I ordered spicy wings and had to admit Jimin was right- they really were awful.

We left the other two behind to go and pick up my car. Jungkook and Taehyung seemed more than happy to watch us leave and the large table barely acknowledged my presence. Jimin accepted their happy shouts when he approached, hugging the ones who stood up to greet him, and forced one of his small, pitiful smiles at a particular brunette who kept batting her eyelashes at him. He introduced me but none of them seemed to really care. Especially the brunette.

“Let me get your number,” Taehyung said to me, holding out a hand for my phone. “We need to hang out again.”

I was nervous about giving him a way to contact me. He reminded me of Tilly, though ten times more energetic, and she always found a way to get on my nerves (the box being one of many examples). Taehyung had yet to overstep the imaginary boundaries I had, but his complete lack of personal space etiquette was astounding. He touched me more in one day than any of my friends in an entire year. He seemed like the type of person to text every day and send a million pictures of himself doing random shit. Even with that in mind, I handed my phone over. He was too nice to say no to.

“Do you like sushi?” Taehyung asked, handing me my phone. “There’s a great place in Detroit we can go to.”

The idea of being trapped in a car with the snowboarder for 45 minutes was not appealing. I could only imagine how much he could talk when he was really excited about something. I would entertain the idea if Jungkook or Jimin came as a buffer, especially if one of them could sit up front. Taehyung yapping away in my ear would give me the biggest migraine I had ever had, and my anxiety over not being entirely focused on the road would make me snippy and rude.

“Only if I can come,” Jungkook piped up. “You’re not going to Bash without me, dude.”

“Well yeah,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Y/N has to meet Milo and Darcy,” He looked at me, grinning happily. “I think you would really get along.”

I had no idea who either of those people were, but I did not want to ask any questions. Jimin was inching back towards me and telling the others goodbye, and I did not want to hold him up. Taehyung started making plans that I did not pay any attention to. He could always text me when he figured out what he wanted.

“We have to get going,” Jimin was back beside me. “Y/N’s car is sitting at the dealership. It was good seeing everyone.”

I waved at the table and started walking away before Taehyung could touch me. He was definitely a hugger. Jimin was quick to catch up with me, giggling about my “escape.” It had started to snow again, gentle flurries twisting and turning in the wind, and I had forgotten my heavy jacket at home. The long sleeve I was wearing would do nothing to keep me warm.

“Here,” Jimin taking off his jacket. “You need this more than me.”

Draping it over my shoulders, Jimin told me to zip it up. Stunned, I moved on autopilot and shoved my arms through the sleeves. Everything smelled like him, oranges and spice, and his warmth was still clinging to the thick fleece. I could not remember the last time someone had given me their jacket. Dazed, I followed Jimin out to the parking lot, eyes locked on his back. He was in nothing but a thin, black and white striped shirt.

“Thanks,” I said once we were both in the truck, already shrugging out of the light beige jacket. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He held up a hand, “Keep it. The heater is out.”

I shook my head, “What about you?”

He reached into the back and held up a purple hoodie.

“I’ll be alright.”

I put the jacket back on and buckled in. Jimin slipped into the sweatshirt and started the truck. After buckling up, he backed out of the parking lot. I caught sight of the brunette as we left. She was red faced, shouting into her phone. I looked away. Whoever she was angry with was definitely getting an earful.

“Wonder what Tom did this time,” Jimin mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Tom’s Annie’s boyfriend,” He supplied. “They’re always arguing. Worse than Jungkook and Darcy, they break up every other week, but Tom and Annie are at each other's throats every other day.”

I grimaced, “Sounds like my friends. They finally called it quits last year, but they were insufferable.”

Jimin chuckled, “So, what’s Colorado like?”

I talked to him about Andrea and Seokjin first, how we met and how much I loved their daughter. Hoseok and I’s friendship got quite a few laughs out of him, but those quickly died off when I brought up Namjoon. I told him about the day we met and the coffee date that happened a few days later, and that seemed to brighten up the mood again. Namjoon stories were bittersweet but took up such a large chunk of my life it was impossible to gloss over.

“When’s the toxic couple coming up?” He joked.

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

Hoseok and Matilda had known one another longer than the rest of us. Growing up together, no one was surprised when they finally hooked up in high school. It was, however, short lived bliss. Matilda got caught up in the wrong crowd and began doing drugs. Hoseok had tried to help her get through it, but they could never see eye-to-eye. That started their toxic cycle of getting back together, Tilly going to rehab, her relapsing, and them falling out again. It was not until she went two years ago that it managed to stick, but their relationship was too tumultuous to make it very far. They decided to stay friends and she became a constant member in our group.

“That’s crazy,” Jimin shook his head. “Happy she’s doing better now.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent talking about Colorado and how beautiful it was. He stayed away from swimming, mostly wanting to hear about the school I worked at and the places I went to in my free time. He kept me talking for the entire 45-minute car ride, question after question keeping me on my toes. He did not like talking about himself, whenever I tried to switch the conversation to his own interests he barely responded before going back to his interrogation. Before I knew it, we were pulled into the dealership and getting down.

“You can leave,” I told him.

“I want to make sure you’re good before I go,” He replied.

The cashier was lovely, her voice bubbly and sweet as she helped me out. Jimin lingered longer than he needed to, helping me fill out my paperwork and making small talk with the dealer. I took my keys and went for a quick test drive before I was finally able to convince Jimin to leave.

The drive back was quiet. I was used to the silence when I drove, but Jimin’s voice had been soothing. Frankly, I was a bit bored without him around. I decided to call Matila and ask about my medals. She apologized but I doubted how sincere she actually was. After catching up with her, hearing all about the guy she went on a date with, and a five-minute rant about Hoseok spending way too much money on Minho’s birthday present, I hung up before she could give me a migraine. As much as I liked Tilly, she was someone I had very little patience for and her voice, high pitched and loud, was like nails on a chalkboard.

I got back in town a little after 3. Violet and Calvin were both home and watching some black and white Western. Calvin offered to make me lunch, but I was quick to decline. I just wanted some space.

As soon as I got in my apartment, I curled up in bed to take a nap. I was overwhelmed after talking so much and desperately needed to recharge. I set an alarm for 5 so I could make it over to the Park house in time for dinner. Quickly sending a quick text to Hoseok, I turned on thunderstorm sounds and closed my eyes.

Na-Yeon and James were both excited to see me, talking about their days and asking how I was settling in. Eloise was there as well, the twins in the back room playing again. Jimin was going to be late. He had gone for a last-minute swim with Milo. When I asked them who that was, it was Eloise who answered.

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

“Taehyung,” Na-Yeon answered. “You know he hates that name as much as Jimin hates his, Lou."

Eloise blushed, her entire face turning a bright shade of red.

“Sorry,” She scratched behind her ear. Looking back at me, she sighed, “We went to school together. Old habit.”

Now V made sense. It never occurred to me that Jungkook and Taehyung could have their own American names, and neither one introduced themselves that way either. James came to take the seat beside mine, the dining table more crowded then was reasonably necessary.

“Does Jungkook have a second name?” I asked.

“Ian,” Eloise replied. “He goes by both, so I don’t think he cares as much as Tae and Jimin. I know his girlfriend uses both.”

I assumed that was Darcy. Why else would Taehyung assume she would go with us on a day trip to Detroit?

“They call him Ian on the team, too,” James chimed in. “His name is too hard.”

Namjoon never had an American name, at least, not one I had ever heard. The only person I could think of was Hoseok. A lot of his friends called him Jay, something about an old nickname from school, but that was it. Seokjin just went by Jin, Namjoon went by Joon, and Minho went by…well, Minho. None of their parents used American-Friendly names, and Seokjin’s father’s English was still poor even after living here for so long.

“Y/N,” Na-Yeon brought me back to the conversation. “What banchan do you like?”

“My eomeo-nim made these delicious, braised potatoes,” I answered, thinking back on our dinners together. “Kimchi, of course. My ex made the best braised lotus roots. They were always yummy.”

Na-Yeon seemed pleased by my answer. James and Eloise started rambling about their own favorites. Unlike Namjoon, Mr.Park was a big fan of seafood. He grew up in Busan near the Jagalchi Market, which, according to him, was the largest seafood market in South Korea. Eloise talked a little about her favorite Korean dishes before jumping into what she grew up eating. Her father was Scottish and her mother French, so one night she was eating Scottish Pie and daube niçoise the next. It was fun hearing more about Eloise. I would have never guessed she was a first generation American.

“It’s something Tony and I had in common,” She added. “He learned quite a bit of French before he died. Unfortunately, my Korean is taking much longer.”

“Mine isn’t that great either,” I admitted. “Namjoon’s family spoke English and never liked to make me feel awkward. I can follow a conversation fairly well, but only if you speak slowly.”

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

The front door opened, and I could hear loud talking. Eloise sighed. Whoever was with Jimin did not pass her inspection it would seem. She and James seemed to have a small conversation with their eyes. The men were still at the front of the house. Finally, Eloise looked away and scowled.

“Must have brought Milo and Tae over,” She muttered. “I’m going to go check on the twins.”

Eloise left the table. James told me to ignore her. She and Milo did not get along for whatever reason and she chose to ignore him. It was not my business, so I accepted that explanation.

I prepared myself for a bad interaction. So far, Eloise was such a quiet and sweet person I could not imagine anyone actively disliking her. Then again, this was Taehyung’s fiancé, and he was the nicest, most bubbly person I had ever met. It did not seem likely that he would hang around bad company. It could just be a case of personalities clashing.

“Annyeong,” Taehyung greeted us brightly, immediately finding me. “Babe, come say hi.”

A massive, pale man followed in behind him. Milo was a good-looking guy, bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, with a solid build. He reminded me of the male swimmers I worked with, his huge size and bulging muscles intimidating. His fashion sense was not as good as Taehyung’s. Ill-fitting black bottoms and a Rick and Morty t-shirt that made me want to roll my eyes. I was definitely biased, my loyalties already in Eloise’s corner. I did not need to know a backstory to be weary. The dude looked enough like Matthew Hamilton to make me dislike him just off principal.

“Milo, Y/N,” Taehyung introduced, gesturing between the two of us. Behind him, Jimin snuck into the kitchen and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. He looked nice in his gray tracksuit. “Y/N, this is my fiancé, Milo.”

I managed a disingenuous smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” He replied. His voice was smokey.

“Where’s Lou?” Jimin asked, coming around to greet his father.

“Checking on Harper and Cam,” James told him.

There was not enough room for all of us to sit at the table and I ended up giving up my seat to Na-Yeon. Jimin helped her set the table while I was put in charge of gathering Eloise and the kids. Walking down the hallway, I found the kids’ playroom and knocked.

“Dinner’s ready,” I announced, poking my head inside.

The room was bigger than I thought it would be. Each side was decorated in stereotypical boy and girl colors, Cameron’s bed and wall art a wide variety of blues and teals with dinosaur decals on the walls, while Harper’s was a mix up of baby pink and white. Her bed had more stuffed animals on it than I could count and all of them seem well loved. Their toys split the room in half, a large, circle rug in the middle of it all. Most of the toys were thrown on the floor and Eloise was telling them it was time for them to clean it up.

The children looked so cute in their little matching outfits. Harper’s black hair was braided down her back and the ribbon tied at the end of it matched her cream-colored overalls. Cam’s hair was on the longer side as well, falling to his shoulders with a slight wave. His bright red converse stuck out against the rather plain outfit he was wearing, and I had to assume he put up a fight behind them. Harper started to sing the Barney song as they cleaned.

“Feeling, okay?” I asked their mother. She was sitting in the chair on Harper’s side. “You ran off pretty quickly.”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing. We’ve never gotten along.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to eat here? I’ll sit with you.”

She smiled, “We can play nice, don’t worry. Thanks, though. I appreciate you asking.”

Dinner was as uneventful as Eloise said it would be. She and Milo greeted one another and then acted as if the other did not exist. I stood up to eat, Taehyung, Milo, and Jimin with me while the others sat down. Cam was excited to talk about school and Harper rambled on and on about her imaginary friend Butter Squash. They were both very sweet and it made me miss Dani. The last time I saw her was when we went skating the weekend before I left.

Taehyung was as talkative as ever. His touches also become bolder. By the time I left, he had an arm around my shoulders and his body pressed against my side. Milo was unbothered by our closeness. He and Jimin spoke the most and again the guy I knew when no one else was around seemingly vanished. This one was too put together, too closed off, and no one, and I mean no one, seemed to care. Every time he laughed half-heartedly or nodded along with whatever Milo was talking about, I felt more confused. Why was he so hot and cold all of the time?

During my drive back home, I tentatively attempted to listen to the radio. I only lasted around a minute or so before I switched it off. I needed silence. The Parks were such a lovely family, but tonight was too much. Between unpacking and Taehyung, I was drained. Hoseok had asked me to call him when I got home but I was going to wait. If it was important enough, he would call me himself.

I fell asleep as soon as my face hit the pillow, my medication making it a dreamless night.

The rest of the week was quiet. I called my friends back home to check in Thursday morning and was happy about Hoseok’s progress. The kids were really liking him, and he thought he may have a permanent job for next year if I decided to keep working with Jimin. I told him not to get his hopes up.

Jimin and I spoke through text daily. He was still going about his normal routine while I brainstormed training and scheduling. By Saturday I was ready to start testing out different ideas. We both seemed eager to get started, actually. Sunday, like I expected, was very quiet. That was his mom’s day, so I tried not to bother him. Violet and Calvin kept me company.

The Andersons were nice people. Violet was always coming to the back and inviting me to join them for breakfast, and her husband enjoyed asking me about my life. Calvin was far more personable than his wife was, but they managed to balance one another out. Sunday evening was the first time I noticed Calvin’s memory issues. He had no idea who I was. I came inside and Violet had to tell him I was their daughter Nancy’s babysitter. He was under the assumption that she was still 10. I left them alone when Violet asked me to pick her up from school. She came out back a few hours later to thank me for going along with everything, and I made sure that she had my phone number in case she needed me to help out if things got out of hand.

It was still dark outside when I left Monday morning. Jimin and I agreed to meet up at 6 am to start our day, but I wanted to get to the gym early. Time to set up and get myself in the right headspace was important to me.

The location he had sent me was more remote than I had originally anticipated. Jimin owned the little gym. It had been a swim school in the past and the place he had first learned he loved the water. He and his mom went to classes together when he was young. The place had been too expensive for the previous owners to keep up with and they were planning on selling it, but Jimin bought it off of them and converted it into a public gym/pool.

In our text exchanges he called it his retirement plan, but I was sure the place meant more to him than that. He had no interest in it until after the cancer diagnosis. If I was to over analyze it, I would say he was trying to hold onto a happy memory. This was their place before sickness and death ran through his family. I would imagine anyone would want to keep something that held so much sentimental value if they could.

Pulling into the parking lot, I was first struck by two things. One, it was open and there were people inside, and two, it was huge. Most of the building was nothing but windows giving me a great view of the muscled men inside. Bright fluorescent lights made my sensitive eyes hurt, and I could hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere near the gym. The small group of men were together, all of them lifting and spotting each other while talking, and a sense of dread filled my belly.

I was always anxious when I went to a new place, but a new gym was a nightmare. I had bad experiences in the past. Overly friendly creeps who liked to stand around and watch me while I worked out. None of the guys inside gave off bad vibes, but I was still in my car and none of them laid their eyes on me. A woman in a gym was like a drop of blood in water. I had to hope they were not sharks.

Gathering courage, I grabbed my duffle and made my way inside. A pretty, dark-skinned, young woman was sitting at the receptionist desk, and I felt more at ease. If they left her alone then maybe they would not cause me too much trouble either. The music was louder inside, and I recognized the Ciara song. It was a great one for cardio. Fighting the urge to dance, I greeted the receptionist. She put down her magazine and gave me an award-winning grin. She had a nice, dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” She had a thick, Southern accent and I could not tell you where she might be from. I was awful at telling them apart. “Do you have your membership card?”

I laughed nervously, my grip on my bag tightening. “No. I’m here to train with Jimin Park. He said I should have something on file.”

She nodded, her smile unwavering as she looked at her computer and asked for my name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” I replied, foot tapping along to the Lil Wayne song that came on. I had this one on my own workout playlist back in 2008. I could not help mumbling the words under my breath, “She-she-she lick me like a lollipop.”

“Found you,” The girl grabbed a few sheets of paper from a pile on her side of the desk. “Just fill these out for me and we’ll get your card printed. Your fees have been paid already so no need to worry about that.”

I nodded, half listening. This song was great. Why has it been so long since I last heard it? I went to the gym all the time. I needed to put it back on my playlist. Honestly, the entire Carter III needed to find its way back into my rotation.

“My name’s Giselle if you need anything,” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of chairs right at the front entrance. “You’re super early so Christian isn’t here yet, but I’ll give you the key to the pool room so you can do whatever you need before the boss gets in.”

I smiled at her, “Thank you, Giselle.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”

It took me a few minutes to fill the paperwork out and scan my ID, but Giselle made everything as quick as she could. One of the men working out had come by to ask for some wipes to clean off a few of the machines but left without anything more than a ‘good morning’ thrown in my direction. When we passed by the rest of them on the way to the pool house, we were completely ignored, so it was safe for me to say that they would not be a problem for me in the future. Creeps were never subtle about their creepiness.

“I have to double check with Christian, but I think I’m supposed to give you a spare key,” Giselle said, unlocking the pool. “I’m just going to be sure before I promise you anything. Don’t want to get fired.”

I could tell she was joking. Jimin did not strike me as the type of guy to fire anyone over something like that. It only made sense for me to have a spare key since we would be coming around so much, and I would feel bad about disrupting the staff whenever I needed to get inside. They did not get paid enough to deal with that on top of all of the rest of their duties.

“We keep it locked until 9,” Giselle continued, leading the way inside. “Then we close it back up at 5. Maintenance comes in every Tuesday to treat the water, so you’ll have to be out of here no later than 7. Boss man knows this already so you shouldn’t have any problems with that.”

The pool room was very bland and bare bones. The smell of chlorine hung heavily in the air while the lights around the pool walls illuminated the dark room. It was very big, and I itched to go for a quick dip. The coolness of the water would be nice against my skin. I had grown hot with nerves and gotten a little sweaty.

“We have a few other staff members that will be in around the same time the boss man comes in,” Giselle continued to give me the rundown. “I’m sure he’ll introduce you to everyone just in case you need anything. I’d say make nice with Yoongi first. He’s our in-house massage therapist.”

Pointing to a door on the far-left wall, Giselle let me know that was the pool locker room and the door right next to it was a shortcut to the back offices. Management, marketing, and facility supervisors were usually all back there and I would more than likely never see them. They were not the most social people and worked from home a lot. I could tell by Giselle’s voice that she did not particularly care for management.

“Drew should be here by now,” She checked her smart watch. “She’s the general manager. I’m going to go and grab her and see about that key. She might come back to say ‘hi’ but don’t hold your breath.”

I chuckled, “That bad?”

Giselle rolled her eyes, “Drew’s fine, but Dominic is usually following her around everywhere and he’s annoying. You’ll get what I mean if you ever see them together.”

I laughed, “I’ve had my fair share of weirdos. Thanks again. I appreciate you showing me around.”

She beamed, “It wasn’t a problem. You gave me a reason to get up from the desk, so I’d say it’s a win.”

We spoke for a few more minutes until a very large, bulky man popped his head in looking for her. His black t-shirt clung to him tightly and his shorts were a hideous neon pink color. He did have a nice smile, one that took up most of his face and teeth so white they looked fake. Giselle introduced me very quickly, and the man, Sam, turned out to be one of the personal trainers on staff.

“You’re the Olympian, right?” Sam asked. Jimin must really like people who talked a lot, because I had never met more outgoing people in my life before moving here. Everyone he surrounded himself with was just full of energy, and I wondered if it was purposeful. Jimin himself was a rather quiet and sad person. “Jimin talks about you all the time.”

I laughed awkwardly, face heating, “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Suddenly an image of Sam surfing in California flashed through my mind. He just seemed like the type. “Well, I have to go and help out a client, but it was nice meeting you. Gigi, can you go back up front before Drew pitches a fit?”

Giselle sighed heavily, “Tell her I’m coming,” Looking at me she asked if I was okay on my own. “Come and get me if you need anything, okay?”

After assuring her that I was fine, Giselle left behind Sam. The two of them bickered like an old married couple, and I wondered about their relationship. He did call her a little nickname. I shook my head. Regardless, I had other things I needed to take care of before I could get lost in thought about two strangers.

Unpacking my duffle, I threw on my whistle and stopwatch before getting to work on my schedule. I had brought a lot of my personal swimming gear with me like training bands, coach communicator, and forearm fulcrum. Back in the day, I was the brand ambassador for Finis, so I had a lot of their products. The tracksuit I was wearing was from Speedo, and I had so much of their stuff for the same reason. Being a famous swimmer had its perks.

I had planned on doing a lot of drill and some short-burst efforts with Jimin. He had been without a PT for a few weeks now, and while I trusted him to stay in shape, it was no secret someone would be performing less on their own than with guidance. I did not want to over work him when he was, for all intents and purposes, been on a vacation. So, while I wanted to rush head-first into training, I would try to ease into things a bit before going full asshole on the kid. Like Victor would say, “Three times a week for three weeks.” After that, he was going to be at my mercy.

It was just past 6 when Jimin walked into the pool room. I was flipping through my training plan for the day and humming along to the music blasting through the speakers, echoing off the walls. Whoever was in charge of the playlist had a thing for the early 2000s.

“Morning,” His soft voice brought a smile to my face. He sounded tired. “What do you think about the place?”

Stealing a look at him, I had to hold back the gasp that I wanted to let out. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts giving me a great look at his skin. Embarrassed by my reaction, I internally scolded myself. I needed to get over this crush already. I was about to see a lot more of his body once he went to the back to change. I bit my lip. I had no idea how I was going to deal with him in a speedo.

“It’s very nice,” I was happy with how nonchalant I sounded. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so big.”

I wonder what else is big… I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter. Scratch that- I should have dealt with this problem the second I realized it was there. I was going to force myself to call Hoseok today. He would know what to do, and if not, at least I could vent a little.

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Had fun with your mom? I wanted to give you two some space, so I stayed to myself.”

He smiled and I melted. Yeah, this needed to stop. I was too grown to be acting like this around a man.

“I appreciate it. We missed you at dinner, though. My dad kept complaining that things were quiet now.”

I chuckled, “Eloise and the kids not loud enough?”

He shook his head, “She didn’t come over.”

He tossed his sports bag next to mine and pulled out his swim gear. I caught a flash of his speedo and quickly looked away. The visuals going through my mind were distracting enough.

“Do you want to go over everything before I get changed?” Asked Jimin.

I shook my head, “No, go ahead. It’s going to be a chill day.”

“You got it, coach.”

I did not breathe until I heard the locker room door slam shut. Tossing my clipboard onto my bag, I roughly rubbed my face. I needed to pull myself together.

My attraction was easy to ignore and forget about when he was not in my face, but the second I got my eyes on him it was all I could focus on. I was awkward and fumbling all over the place whenever he was around. I focused on him far too much, far more than I should be due to our relationship, and it was driving me insane. I needed to take a breather, but I did not have enough time and I did not want to make him worried. Jimin seemed like the type of person who would become consumed by anxiety if he thought I was upset with him in any way. No, I would have to suck it up and get through this training session like an adult.

The locker room door opened. Jimin’s bare feet were loud against the gray, stone floor. I refused to look at him. I wasn’t ready yet. Bending over, I grabbed the clipboard and cleared my throat. I was hoping to get him in the water first, and then I could safely conduct myself in a professional way. The less skin I had to see at a time the better. I pointed at the pool.

“Like I said, it’s going to be an easy day,” He was walking away from me, and I felt the tightness in my chest lighten. “You’ve been without a trainer for a bit, and I’m not sure how intense your workouts have been since. Your warmup is just 10 minutes of easy swimming, and then we’ll go over our main set.”

I heard him get into the water with a splash and relaxed. I could handle him in the water. No one looked good with those stupid goggles on. I walked to the edge of the pool, clipboard in my hand, and stole a quick look.

As suspected, he did not look as potent like this. His hair was hidden beneath a red and white cap, and blue goggles obstructed most of his face. It was impossible to make out most of his body as he glided through the water, but I got a great look at his arms. He was more muscular than I gave him credit for. He was smaller and more lean than other swimmers, but I could see why he was able to dominate.

He was very fast, but I could already tell he was pushing harder than I wanted him to. Blowing my whistle, I let him know I only wanted him swimming at 80% effort. Jimin pulled a face and lifted his goggles up. Now that he was stagnant, I got a clear look at his chest and swallowed thickly. He needed to start moving or else I might have a heart attack.

“Why?” He was incredulous.

“Like I said, I don’t want you to overwork yourself. You’ve been on a vacation for four weeks now and we need to work our way back up to more intensive sets. It’ll only be for a couple of weeks.”

He pushed back again, “I’ve been coming here every day for hours. I think I’m fine.”

I shook my head, “I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not calling you a liar, but I am skeptical of the quality of the training.”

“But-”

“I haven’t been here to see your routine,” I cut him off before whatever smart ass comment he was planning to say could even come out. Jimin’s annoyance was plain as day, and I was not about to put up with a tantrum. “I’m known for being a hard ass, and I’m going to push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. You can ask Coach Bunch about me if you want. I will make sure you’re in the best shape of your life this year, but not at the expense of getting you injured.”

He took a deep breath before responding, “With all due respect, I’ve been putting in a lot of work by myself. I don’t think I need kid gloves.”

I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

“Humor me,” I replied. “We do things my way for the week and if I think you’re good to go by Friday then we’ll get back to normal training. How does that sound?”

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

I chuckled, “Good to know. Now, put your goggles back on and finish your warmup. We’re wasting time arguing.”

As I suspected, once we started our drills, he did not perform up to the standards I had for him. Even at 75% what he was capable of, I could already see the areas he needed to work on. His butterflies were beautiful, but I could pick apart his breast and back strokes. I was happy with his free swim at the end, and I was going to start there the next session. I was hoping by starting off with compliments that we could become more comfortable with one another before I had to get serious. Those breast strokes would drive me insane until he could execute them perfectly every time.

“How am I doing?” Jimin asked during a cool down, doing a few laps before we started our drills again. “I know my breast strokes aren’t that great. I’ve always struggled with them.”

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

“We definitely have stuff to work on,” I replied. “Don’t worry too much about that right now. We can start talking about it more next week.”

He sighed, annoyed, and I laughed. He was very grumpy when it came to his swimming. Not wanting to upset him again, I decided to give him something.

“I would like to watch you swim a bit more and make a plan before giving you my opinion. My coach used to do that with me, and I found it helpful.”

We trained until eight-thirty, and I looked over my notes while Jimin cooled down. We did not talk as much as I would have liked, but it was probably for the best. His body was distracting, and I did not think I was doing a very good job at hiding my reactions to him. He did not seem to notice, or he was simply sparing my feelings, either way he was happy to keep relatively quiet. We only talked about training while he was in the water, and I was grateful he was maintaining his professionalism.

“When will we be back again?” Jimin asked, his last few minutes running down on the timer. “You said Wednesday, right?”

I nodded absentmindedly, in my own little world as I flipped through my notes. I had more than I thought I would have, all of them having to do with fixing his form and how we could go about it. New exercises, grueling training days, and a few new tools that I was not sure he had ever used before, would mold him into a swimmer I would glow with pride over. Park had always been a talented man, but I wanted to see if we could reach for something more. Something bigger and better than he could have imagined. I wanted to make Matthew fucking Hamilton look like the incompetent bastard I knew him to be.

“We’re done for the day,” I sighed, clicking the alarm off. “Do you want me to come for your night swim?”

Jimin ripped the goggles off, rubbing his eyes and already going to release his cap. I bit down on the inside of my mouth. He was so pretty and soft, and the way his muscles flexed as he swam to the edge of the pool made my stomach flutter. I looked away before he hoisted himself out of the water. I did not need that image floating around in my already depraved head.

“You can come if you want,” He replied casually. “I’m mostly hitting the gym when I’m here in the evenings. I only take a dip for thirty minutes and leave.”

I hummed, fighting the urge to look at his body. I focused instead on my breathing and writing down what he had just said. I did not want to forget that. It might be useful for me in the future. If we could exercise together, it would give me an opportunity to guide him through some of my favorite tricks to help with swimming.

“Will someone else be with you?”

“Probably Jungkook and Darcy. They’re my usual gym buddies when Milo is working.”

“Darcy’s his girlfriend, right?” I wanted to see if my hunch from the other night was right.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for a couple of years now. She’s alright. Not as shy as you.”

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

Then I made a critical mistake. Looking over at Jimin, I nearly choked on my own spit. His skin was perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight, and cream-colored. His body was just as pretty as his face, smooth abs and a tiny waist that led to toned and thick thighs. The tiny scrap of red fabric covering his private area did not stop my eyes from glancing. I looked away before I started to stare.

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

“I know you are,” He teased, his voice so soft and sweet. I briefly wondered what he would sound like in bed. I fought desperately to rid myself of that imagery. This could not be happening right now. “You’re so shy you can’t even look at me right now.”

His cocky attitude should have annoyed me, but instead it only further fueled my lust. Every time I had seen this man, he gave me such tonal whiplash it was beginning to drive me insane. First it was this innocent little angel facade that quickly became sarcastic and witty when he decided he could play around without me getting angry. Then it was the whole sad puppy thing he had going on for the last week. Now here he was, practically naked and getting riled up over me telling him what to do, and puffing his chest with confidence I never thought he was capable of. It would have pissed me off if I did not find him ridiculously attractive.

“Go get dressed, Park,” My voice was clipped and too harsh. I winced and quickly worked to soften the blow. Getting defensive only made me look worse. “We can get breakfast if you’re not busy. My treat.”

“Sure, coach.”

When I heard the locker room close, I let out a deep sigh. My sexual frustration was getting in the way of my work, and I hated it. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I sent Hoseok a text.

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

The reply did not come until I was done packing up my things. The workout stuff I had brought with me had been useless today, but I was afraid of forgetting where they were the next time I might need them, so they never left the bag. My phone vibrated just as I was done zipping up my bag. I could hear the shower in the locker room and clenched my thighs together. I was still thinking of how pretty his belly was, the tattoo on his ribs pitch-black against his pale skin, and how solid his calves looked. I unlocked my phone and nearly cried laughing when I saw the response.

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

Hobi: Never thought I’d see the day you became a cougar

I have no idea why I thought he would be any help. So, I licked my wounds and messaged Andy (like I should have done in the first place) and knew whatever she had to say would be far more helpful than my stupid best friend’s word of “advice.” I just had to hope it would be enough to make all of these feelings stop.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga

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hannahssimblr · 4 months ago

Text

At the house, I am conscious of the mess. Nobody has made an effort to clean up properly for weeks, and now dishes and miscellaneous bits of rubbish litter every available surface. The bins are full. Tangles of chargers and cables pile up on the table, and water damage has well and truly set in on the oak flooring under our feet. The same patch of floor that Evie’s hair is dripping on now, but while it’s too late to save it, she might as well add to it.

“Wow, this is a beautiful house,” she says, and I have to check her face to see if she’s taking the piss out of me. She looks genuinely charmed. I frown.

“I’ll get you a towel downstairs.”

As we descend to the living room, I find myself holding my breath. It seems even dirtier than the kitchen there, and I wonder how and when this happened, how it is even possible. Yet here we are, and it is. I pray there are clean towels, at least let there be clean towels…

Oh, thank God.

I hand her one from the hot press. It is old and scratchy, and likely a victim of my mother, back when she used to dye her hair at home, evidenced by the big, bleached patches all over it, but at least it’s clean. I show her the bathroom.

“Feel free to take a shower if you want to. The water is hot.” As it constantly is, because I turned it on at the beginning of the summer and found the system so complex that I never risked turning it off again. I’ll be hearing about it when my dad gets the bill, but that’s an issue for September.

Evie peeks in. “You don’t want to go first?”

“No, go ahead.”

As soon as I hear the hum of the shower, I pounce into action and tear into my bedroom. I yank all the dirty clothes off the floor and fire them into my already heaving hamper, then kick a pair of shoes under the bed, followed by a mucky football and some art magazine Jen thought I’d like, but I never read.

There are chocolate wrappers on the floor. What kind of creature am I? Was I sitting on the floor at some point, feasting on a family packet of dairy milk bars, or did these just fall out of my pockets? I rush around, picking them all up, then reach the wastepaper basket to find it full. I curse under my breath and yank the bag out, tying it in a hasty knot, then carry it and the two handfuls of coffee mugs strewn about the place up to the kitchen. There is nowhere for them to go, so I shove the mugs into the sink and toss the bag on the floor.

She’s showering for ages. Good.

Next, I tackle the bed, straightening out the duvet and pillows, which are, mercifully, clean. I could tongue-kiss the past version of myself that ran them through the wash two days before. To make extra sure, I give them a good, long sniff. They still smell like detergent. The clean clothes from that same wash go from the armchair to the wardrobe, and books on the bedside table. The tennis racquets… they’ll be fine, leaning against the wall. When I step back and examine my work, I determine that it’s barely passable, but time is surely running out, and she can’t shower forever. The dust on the floor can stay another day.

Lastly, I toss my sweaty clothes onto the pile and peel off my sodden shorts. Once I have changed into something clean, I carry all the laundry out and heave it into the washing machine, right by the door of the bathroom. Evie hums tunelessly in the shower, and for a moment or two, I stand and listen. I wonder whose shower gel she is using, and shiver inexplicably at the idea of her choosing mine.

I arrange myself in a casual position when she comes back into the room, hanging out on the end of the bed. She’s rosy from the hot water, and her hair lies flat against her head, so straight and fine that her ears poke out the sides.

“You don’t have to wear the same wet t-shirt,” I inform her. “I can put your clothes in the dryer.”

She pulls at the hem and looks down at those two, damp, triangular patches. “It’s okay,” she shrugs. “They’ll dry on me.”

“You can leave all your wet stuff on the floor. I’ll sort them out after my shower and I’ll just find you something else to wear.”

“But I won’t fit in your clothes.”

“You’ll fit in a t-shirt, won’t you?” I saunter over to my wardrobe and lift a t-shirt from the stack. It’s old, and has a hole in the armpit, hence it’s permanent relegation to the beach house wardrobe, but like everything else in this house in its current state, it will suffice.

“Thanks,” she says. I leave her to change and head for the shower.

“What are you looking at?”

She jumps and turns around. I’ve caught her nosing around and looking at my notice board. She points at it. “Your ticket to a music festival.”

I hesitate, trying to gauge whether Claire has blabbed to her about what I said or not. “Oh yeah, are you coming?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should. All of us are heading up to it.” I pull a pair of socks out of a drawer and plonk myself onto the bed to put them on.

She sits with me. “I’m not sure. It’s kind of a bit complicated.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” she hesitates before deciding to divulge. “Kelly and Claire are in a big fight about it. Claire wants to go, and Kelly doesn’t want to, even though it’s Claire’s eighteenth birthday the same weekend. It’s… it’s all a bit silly if I’m honest.”

I frown. “She doesn’t want to celebrate her friends’ birthday in a fun way?”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s that she doesn’t want to hang out with Shane for the whole weekend. She’d be too embarrassed to. She’s weird about that kind of thing.”

I should proceed with caution. I say, “sounds a little selfish to me.”

“Kelly’s a complicated person. I think she means well, she just… isn’t great at expressing herself. She gets angry at people instead of telling them how she feels in a normal way.”

I could talk a lot of shit about Kelly Healy, but I‘ll save it. I know that teenage girls’ friendships are strange and nuanced in ways my brain will never fully comprehend. Things never seem to be simple enough to just end the friendship. It must drag on for eternity until one of them is irreparably damaged in its wake. “So what, she’s forbidden you both from going to the festival?”

“She hasn’t said that we’re forbidden.”

“But you’re not going because you think she’ll be angry with you.”

“Pretty much.”

“So what about Claire? It’s her birthday.”

She groans. “I know. I hate this. I hate when people are fighting, and I feel like I’m in the middle of it. I don’t know what the right decision is.”

Tell me about it. “The thing that you want to do more, that’s the right decision.”

“I knew you’d say something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something wise.”

I laugh. If only I could take my own advice.

She heaves out a sigh and slumps over her knees. “I can’t talk to either of them about it. Kelly is impossible, and Claire hasn’t been around. I’ve barely seen her at all since they fought. I don’t even know where she’s been.”

I blink. “Oh, she’s been here.”

“What?”

“Yeah! I thought you knew. She’s been coming here every day for ages.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And did she tell you why?”

“No, I didn’t ask. I thought it was just to hang out with Shane.”

“With Shane?” She straightens to look into my face and I grin.

“Yeah, they’ve been hanging out.”

“Go ’way.”

“I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but they hang out a lot, go for walks together and watch TV in the living room. I usually just leave them alone, but…” I tap my nose.

“Oh, I knew it!” She throws herself back on to her elbows and shakes her head. “I wonder what this is going to mean for Kelly.”

“Kelly can grow up. She doesn’t have a say.”

“Ugh. I know. It’s just impossible not to worry about it.”

“Evie, how often do you let that girl live inside your head? Forget about it. Let Shane and Claire deal with her.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

It’s not lost on me, the juxtaposition between this conversation and the one I had with Alison this morning. These two girls are only a year apart in age, and yet somehow their lives oppose so diametrically. Am I the same boy with them both, or have I somehow split in two? How can I be worrying about Alison and all that she’s been through, while hours later coaching Evie through friend drama? I know the turmoil and stress is real for her. I can tell by the things her face is doing, how she nibbles on her lip, the way her brow furrows, but I am comforted by it, by how simple it is. Maybe it would be good for my soul to spend more time with Evie.

Regardless, I move on from this specific theme and bring the conversation back to where it began. “And as for the festival, I think you should come.”

“Hm.”

“Will you?” She doesn’t answer, so I assume she hasn’t heard me. I nudge her. “I want you to come. Will you come?”

“You want me to?” She echoes, like she doesn’t exactly believe it.

“I do.”

“Okay then.”

Perhaps someone else would find it worthwhile to read into the fact that she seems to want to do everything that I do, but I’m not really that bothered. I’m just glad that she agreed for the sake of herself. I suspect it may be a rarity for her.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter [2]

#lucky boy 2010 #the festival is in sight bbs #huhuhuhuhe

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fandomfucker · 1 year ago

Note

Poly!judgment day one shot where reader gets sick with fever and they take care of her

Warnings: Strong language

Word count: 1,960

From the moment I woke up, I felt like shit. I was freezing like I'd never been frozen before. My throat was scratchy and my head was pounding. From the bridge of my nose up through my forehead, I could feel the continuously building pressure of my sinuses.

I was sick.

Rolling over onto my stomach I rubbed blearily at my eyes, finding mass amounts of crust. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, blinking rapidly from the harsh light it emitted. It was around 11:30 a.m., on a Saturday, meaning two of my four partners were probably at the grocery store right now.

As I lay there for the next few minutes scrolling through Instagram my nose started to run really bad. Wiping the snot off my lip with my sleeve I then got up out of bed and walked over to the adjoining bathroom.

After blowing my nose with the very not soft tissues I made my way to the connecting closet I shared with my four partners. Grabbing a pair of Dominik's sweatpants, one of Rhea's hoodies, and a pair of thick socks Damien and Finn would argue over, I walked back into the bathroom to change.

After I changed into the warmer clothes I grabbed the tissue box from the bathroom and walked back to the bedroom. Grabbing my phone off the bed I then made my way to the living room, blowing my nose along the way.

"Fuck me!" I exclaimed in annoyance shuffling into the living room, my voice muffled from the snotty blockages in my nose. No matter how many times I blew my nose it was never enough.

"Hey, don't threaten me with a good time." Dom grinned cheekily, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

"You know, if I didn't feel like death right now I'd kick your ass, Mysterio." I mocked him right back.

"I'd like to see you try, Corazón."

"Alright, alright enough." Damian finally spoke up, ending Dom and I's momentary feud. "Why do you feel like death?"

"'Cause I don't feel good!" I whined, making grabby hands at the two of them, wanting to steal their heat through cuddles. Dom rushed over to sweep me up into a hug before Damian could, giggling at the nasty look Damian shot him as he did so.

"Why don't you feel good Mi Amor?" Damian asked me concerned, just trying to be helpful and get to the root of my problem.

"'Cause my nose is all stuffy and runny and I'm still freezing, even wearing two layers of sweatshirts, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks. And I have a headache And my throat hurts." I complained into Dom's chest.

Dom gently pulled me away from him to put the back of his hand on my forehead to check for a fever. He frowned after a second and turned around to address Damian, "Looks like our baby has a fever."

I was immediately pulled away from Dom and wrapped up in four blankets to "help break the fever" and pushed onto the couch by Damian as Dom went to go call Rhea and Finn and ask them what they should do for me. Rhea and Finn have always been the most responsible of us. The parents of the group if you will.

"I think you might have the flu then, Muñeca," Damien spoke softly, brushing my hair out of my face.

"Uggghhh," I groaned in annoyance, slumping forward to lay my forehead on his chest.

Damian gently pushed me forward to the back of the couch when his phone started ringing from the kitchen. He left to go grab it, pausing to give me a kiss on the forehead as he went.

I hummed and closed my eyes in contentment. I felt the couch shift underneath me, making me peel open an eye to see Dom now sitting next to me.

"Hey baby, you need anything?" He asked me, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I took a second to think. "The TV remote and some soup?" I asked him hopefully.

"Anything for you," He smiled fondly, giving me a peck on the cheek as he got up. He passed me the remote before making his way into the kitchen.

As I flipped through the channels, trying to find something to watch, Damien walked back into the room with a box of soft lotion tissues.

"My lord and savior has arrived!" I shouted gleefully, throwing my hands up as I made grabby hands.

Damien just chuckled and set the box down in my lap before taking Dom's spot next to me.

I fell to the side so that I could curl up my legs, with my knees on Damian's thighs while my head rested on his shoulder.

"Rhea got you an appointment at the minute clinic in a couple hours okay?" Damian informed me.

I nodded my head sleepily as I continued on my quest for entertainment. "There's nothing to watch," I complained to Damian as I plucked a tissue from the box and began to blow my nose again.

"You poor thing," Damian cooed playfully, plucking the remote out of my hands. Before I could even protest, he'd changed it to one of my favorite shows.

I hummed in delight as I wiped my runny nose again, giving my undivided attention to the show.

We watched my show together for the next few minutes, the only thing breaking the silence was the occasional noise from the kitchen and the various noises from my nose.

Then Dom came back into the room with my soup. He placed it on the coffee table, giving me time to situate myself before taking the still-steaming bowl into my hands.

Taking the spoon out of the bowl I touched the tip of my tongue to it, seeing just how hot it was. Not hot enough for me to not eat it.

So, blowing on the soup in between intermissions of me blowing or wiping my nose, became my main focus for the next thirty minutes.

Until Rhea and Finn came home.

Finn is protective, just like my other two boys. Rhea, however, is so overprotective sometimes that it can get smothering. It's a good thing I love her.

"(Y/N)?" Rhea all but screamed throughout the house as soon as she opened the door.

"Living room!" I croaked out, my voice cracking so bad it was barely more than a whisper that sent both Dom and Damian into a fit of laughter.

They were laughing so hard they were bent over with tears in their eyes.

I slapped them both upside the head making them release their last final giggles before sitting back up just as Rhea walked in, Finn trailing right behind her with like 600 grocery bags.

She looked so worried about me that I genuinely started to feel bad for being sick. Placing my now empty bowl back onto the coffee table I held my arms out for her to come hug me.

Immediately, she lunged towards me jumping over the table and Damian to get to me. Half laying in my lap and half in Damian's, Rhea pulled me to her, letting me soak up all her warmth.

Having to maneuver around her, Dom and Damian both got up to go and help Finn bring in the groceries.

"Hey, Baby. How ya' feeling?" Rhea asked me softly, stroking my hairline with my thumb as she held my cheek in her palm.

"Blegh," I replied nasally. I slumped even further into her arms, putting all of my weight on her as she held me.

"I'm sorry baby," Rhea whispered into my hair as she kissed my forehead, her lips lingering to check my fever.

"'s not your fault," I spoke into her shoulder, starting to slur my words due to drowsiness.

She squeezed my shoulders as I climbed into her lap, curling in on myself as I laid against her chest, my head on her shoulder as I continued to watch TV.

I must've drifted off at some point as I was soon awoken by Finn shaking me.

"We've got your doctors appointment, love." He whispered gently to me.

"Fuck off," I groaned, turning my face into Rhea's neck so he couldn't see my face anymore. I felt Rhea chuckle from underneath me as she wrapped her arms around me and stood up.

Telling Finn to grab my shoes for her, she carried me bridal style out to the garage and gently placed me into the passenger seat of her truck.

Finn came around her to put my shoes on my feet as Rhea walked back inside, coming back with a box of tissues for me.

"Hope you feel better Darling," Finn told me, buckling me into the seat. Kissing my temple, he shut my door and walked around the truck to give Rhea a kiss as well before going back into the house.

Rhea got into the driver's seat and turned the car on as she put the box on the console next to us. She turned the music up, the familiar sound of Motionless in White playing in the background as I closed my eyes to get just a few more minutes of sleep in.

Once we had stopped and were parked I peeled my eyes open as Rhea gently shook me awake.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and shook my blanket off my shoulders and back onto the seat, having made the executive decision to leave it in the safety of my car.

Getting out, I met Rhea around the front, grabbing her outstretched hand and intertwining our fingers.

Rhea went and checked me in as I sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic waiting chairs by the door. Rhea soon came and joined me, grabbing my hand.

She rubbed soothing circles in my hand with her thumb as I used my other hand to wipe my nose with a crumpled-up tissue.

"You still cold, baby?" Rhea asked me concerned.

I just nodded my head in response, my chin shaking a bit.

Rhea began to shrug out of her jacket which just made me feel bad. Before I could even start to protest, Rhea had already slipped the coat over my shoulders and told me to "shut the fuck up".

-Time Skip-

Apparently, the trip to the minute clinic had taken a lot out of me since as soon as I got in the car I was out cold again.

Being shaken awake yet again once we got home wasn't even that irritating anymore, I just held out my arms and Rhea carried me bridal style again into the house.

Walking in, the house was dark. I didn't hear anything either. I figured the boys must have gone out or fallen asleep somewhere until Finn slunk out of the shadows to greet us, startling me.

"Hey, love. We heard that you officially have the flu." Finn greeted me sympathetically. I nodded sleepily, stumbling towards him with my arms out for a hug. Catching me before I could fall, Finn continued into my ear, "We have a little surprise for you upstairs."

Confused, I pulled my head off his chest to look him in the eye, "What?"

"Come on," He told me softly, grabbing my hand to lead me upstairs. I turned around towards Rhea only to see her smiling knowingly as she followed us up the stairs.

Walking through our shared bedroom into the master bath, I saw both Dom and Damian waiting for me in the bathroom. There were candles around the tub and several on the counter lighting up the dark room. The bathtub was filled with bubbles and a sweet, fruity, aroma filled the room.

I started to tear up as my boys greeted me and began to help me get in.

The four of them helped bathe me, helping me to relax, while the hot water and essential oils worked to clear my sinuses.

After my bath, they helped me take my medicine before the five of us all climbed into bed together. I may feel like death, but luckily for me, they're my life.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #poly!judgement day #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #the judgement day #the judgement day x reader #tjd x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor #damian priest x reader #damian priest

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http-drabbles · 2 months ago

Text

soulmate, soulmate where are you? 2

1.3k words of absolute crushing angst, it's 7am and i woke up to write. shall i be evil and let this be the final part? mayhaps.

warnings: s/h and making jungkook sad (:W)

fuck fuck fuck.

skimming every question and typing out my answer feels a lot like betrayal. name, age, country of residence, when my soulmate mark appeared, contact details, translator needed, agreeing to a declaration that if my soulmate mark was found to be fraudulent i could face a fine or jail time. i tick the box by his name, attach a photo of my mark and send the form off. the confirmation email is too cheery it makes my jaw ache at how i grind my teeth.

i don't want to talk about the circumstances that lead me to fill out that form, to apply for a loan that covers travel cost and a hotel for this. the woman who helped me fill out the form was again all too cheery, wishing me a good luck and all i could do was smile so fucking limply back at her while noticing lipstick smudged against her teeth.

a month passes and i'm gleeful, maybe it's a network error and my form never submitted. i'm free and can tell the loan company to cancel my plan, i don't go on social media to see what jungkook is up to and in those weeks the nightmare is over and i embrace my loneliness.

the email arrives at 16:21. heathrow to seoul, a contact at hybe will meet me at the airport. id needed. date of when i'm expected to actually meet jungkook, with a disclaimer that it may change due to fluctuating schedule. the tiger lily tingles, and i almost see the petals opening ready to accept him.

"don't get your hopes up, i can always email them back to get out of this."

i don't. of course i don't because i'm standing in a Costa in London Fucking Heathrow next to the hybe contact who is analysing their croissants like it's the key to end all misery. i wished i could look at croissants with that much intensity.

she asked once to see my soulmate mark, gave it a one second glance over and then typed something down in her phone, i wondered how many people she's flown with to Korea. more than ten i would bet. i don't ask, i'm not conversational but when we're waiting in the queue holding out boarding passes i blurt to her.

"i haven't flown before. i've got a fear of it i think."

she passes me a sleeping tablet and i bump her number from ten to a solid fifteen.

korea is pretty, face practically smushed against the taxi window i take in every single detail i can. there's an over-abundance of signs, low hanging wires and roads so tiny it's a miracle a car can pass through them. i don't take photos, i rely on my brain to remember and then forget.

hybe is anything but pretty, more like a grey lump of concrete and glass. i sign two more documents and the translator informs me that in two days time i will be meeting jungkook, but not officially meeting. more like my arm will be stuck through a gap and our soulmate marks will touch, i will have to wear a mitt because some people had become a little too excited and scratchy. my mark is thoroughly inspected this time, deemed official and not a tattoo i'm driven over to my hotel.

i don't unpack, staring at the forms in my hand which are a mix of korean and english i almost laugh. traitor. stupid traitor.

over the next two days i come to two big conclusions, one kimchi is too sour but the rice cakes should be considered a universal delicacy and two, is it too late to back out?

is it too late to back out? i'm in the taxi, i consider clawing the windows for escape but i decide that digging my fingers into my belly helps ease my nerves. can i back out? hybe is cold, the ac is too strong and there's other girls in the room i'm lead into. shy smiles as i plop myself in the back. we are called alphabetically. is it possible to back out? there's four of us left now, i didn't bother counting us as a whole. i can't stop digging my nails into my stomach.

i can't back out. my name is called and somehow my body removes the hand from my belly and i walk myself over to the room. there's a row of grey screen partitions that divide the room, a small slither in the middle presumably where my arm will go. it hits me jungkook is on the other side and i bite my bottom lip hard to avoid laughing. tugging my sleeve up a staff member puts the mitt on securely, another verbal warning to not do anything harmful to the artist.

artist and not his name.

i sit down on the chair, staring into that small space to catch a sight of him but there's nothing. i don't mind a fine, or jail time. i hope it's not real. deliberately slowly i raise my arm, putting it through the gap with my tiger lily facing upwards. the air shifts around my arm and i feel him. warm as his tiger lily presses against mine.

at first nothing, and i almost let out the loudest sigh of relief and then it is everything. in the mitt my fingers jerk, i pull away like i've been electrocuted clutching my arm but it's energy, pure energy. thrum. drum. drum.

he's tearing the partitions apart and i stagger back, nearly falling over the chair to get away from him. frantic korean, something more reassuring from a staff member and then he pokes his head through. beaming smile, he's so happy to see me and i guess i'm somewhere between absolutely mortified and in complete shock. his sleeve is rolled up and i notice his tiger lily has fully blossomed, a quick glance down at mine and i realise mine is the same.

he speaks again, approaching me like he wants to hug me but seeing that i'm backing away like a rabid animal he slows, contains himself and glances at the translator and back at me.

"hello. i'm jungkook. it's nice to meet you finally." oh god. too much. he's too kind and his cologne has infiltrated my nostrils and i'm so glad the mitt is still on because i'd be clawing at my nose to stop smelling it.

"s-sorry.. can't." i give the staff member who brought me in here the universal look of, 'get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here-now.' i am ignored.

"sorry?" he tilts his head in pure confusion, he looks worried. i hate him for it. "don't be sorry. it's okay. i'm happy."

i glance around the room and notice i'm being recorded, i don't know what sets me off more. he's too close, the camera, him, why is he so close? he touches my shoulder to comfort me and i jerk away, i can't stop looking at the camera and the other staff members who are beaming at us.

"i'm sorry," my eyes lock with his, "i don't want you." he doesn't understand and i glance at the translator.

she looks sad and very softly tells him what i've said, he doesn't seem to believe her because he presses his fingers against the tiger lily and shakes his head.

"us. this is us." he's struggling to speak himself and i can see him remembering. he's really looking at my arm now, clearer. the burns, the cuts. all the times i've tried to prune that cancerous flower from my arm. almost physically wounded he takes a step back.

"i'm sorry, i don't want this." the translator repeats my words and all he does is nod.

he nods and i leave.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts soulmate au #jungkook angst

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cloudwhisper23 · 1 year ago

Text

Her first words when she woke up were the ones that would haunt Gregory the most. Her unsteady sobbing and terrible hiccups would linger in his mind, long after the urging at the back of his mind stopped.

"Gregory? Why am I- Where are we? What happened?" Cassie's voice was broken, her confusion tangling with the lingering feeling of betrayal.

She had every right to feel betrayed. Gregory had betrayed her, just like he'd betrayed all of his friends before. The amused voice at the back of his head liked to mock him for it.

"Your use will never expire, boy." It had an odd quality to it.

If Gregory could dig deep enough, maybe he'd recognize it. But it was against the rules to examine the voice too deeply. He'd seen the result of that in what the voice had called The Reluctant One. Her expression never lost that shattered look, and Gregory was secretly glad she kept the mask on all the time now. He couldn't bear to look at her face anymore. It had been foolish to think he could escape, that they both could escape.

Gregory's own mask was off. The voice hated when he removed it, but Gregory hated wearing it. This was a compromise, he told himself, flexing his fingers within the scratchy fabric of his own rabbit suit.

"Gregory?" Cassie's voice wavered, her constant bravado completely wiped out by the reality of the situation. "What happened to you? I came here to save you and-"

Gregory turned away, feeling the calling of the voice in his mind. He wouldn't be in control in a moment, and his alter-ego, the one he'd dubbed GGY, would take over. He'd mock her for being afraid. He would be just enough like Gregory to convince her that it was all him. "I'm not the one who needed saving," Gregory whispered, lying to both of them.

"You are," GGY said, turning back to Cassie with a sinister grin.

Gregory was trapped in the backseat now as the mask went back on.

"Gregory?" Cassie's voice was very afraid now. She pulled at the cords binding her to a post, but she wouldn't be able to get away now. The fall from the elevator was more than enough for that.

"Poor little Cassie. You really thought we were friends, didn't you?" GGY shook his head, slowing creeping toward her. "You thought you could put on a brave face and save me when I was in danger. 'Cassie, save me.' I can't believe you actually fell for that."

Was this meant to be Gregory's punishment for destroying the monstrous endo? He wondered constantly when the voice would try to break him. It made his heart ache to know that he'd been too late to rescue Roxy, but at the very least, he'd ended that thing's reign of terror. The voice had gone quiet after that, if only for a few minutes. And then he heard the elevator fall and Cassie's scream.

The only other time he'd seen the shuddering shape of the animatronic endoskeleton trying to control him was when he'd equipped it with a suit that was meant to represent himself. It wasn't good enough, he knew. But he had to try to give Cassie a chance to escape sooner rather than later.

But the voice was too clever for that. There was always a backup. It muttered sometimes, about someone called William Afton. Gregory couldn't ever find any information on the man, but the voice found it amusing.

"He'll always come back," the voice croned. "You may meet him one day, if we succeed in luring him into the open."

That day hadn't come yet, but the day for punishing Gregory's past deeds had. Cassie, his only remaining friend, was about to die on her birthday. And Gregory knew he had only himself to blame.

"Why are you doing this?" Cassie whimpered, shrinking closer to the post she was bound to. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Oh, it's not what you did," GGY breathed. "It's what you are."

"What am I?" Cassie said as GGY pressed a knife to her throat.

"You're many things. If you last long enough, you're bait. If not, you're a soul to be harvested. You're a child, which makes you even more tempting." GGY pressed the knife hard enough to encourage a bead of blood to slip down Cassie's neck. "I suppose you also did save me, in a way. I was trapped for quite some time. But most importantly, you're an example."

"An example? For who?" Cassie's tears had stopped, and she was searching the grinning expression of the rabbit mask, like it would reveal a secret to her.

"To the ones who would lock me away," GGY replied. "I wonder how long you'll last." The knife moved away from her throat, hesitating by the left side of her chest for a moment before GGY leaned fully on her broken leg.

Gregory hated the sounds of her screams, and he knew no one else would be able to hear them. Whatever the voice was in life, it certainly knew how to keep a room isolated.

"Guess what I found," the glitchy voice of the white rabbit said, somewhere near Gregory's right ear. GGY let up, and Cassie shuddered, broken sobs slipping quietly from her mouth.

"What did you find?" GGY asked.

Vanny, as Gregory knew her, tossed the mangled remains of Freddy's head at his feet. Gregory recoiled, anguish tugging at him from every angle. "He tried to be a hero. What a mistake."

GGY laughed as Gregory silently wailed for his fallen friend. He'd hoped against hope that since Freddy remained unattached to his body that he'd remain somewhere safe. Evidently, he'd found a way to come after his new family. The two people he cared most deeply about.

"He's long gone by now," Vanny said, amusement lingering after GGY finally stopped laughing. Gregory felt sick, but his emotions were hardly a consideration now. "The light took forever to kill, but it's gone now. I waited to make sure."

Was it blue or yellow when it went out? Gregory wondered quietly. Freddy had manic tendencies sometimes, especially when he'd felt particularly defensive of his charge. When he had that defiant reaction, the color changed from a kind blue to a fierce yellow glow. Gregory had only seen it twice, but he liked to think the light wouldn't go out on blue.

Even thinking that, a beeping noise came from Freddy's destroyed head. Cassie instinctively lifted her head, makeup running like it had the first time Gregory had met her.

"Freddy?" she whispered faintly, hope clear in her voice.

Vanny shook her head. "Why is she still alive?"

"I was getting to it," GGY snapped. He kicked the Freddy head as he returned to his place beside Cassie. "Just because you don't care for the screams-"

"The job is to kill. Not to torture."

"Reluctant?" GGY's words were a challenge, and Vanny knew it.

"Hardly. I prefer the term efficient," Vanny sneered. "Are you going to finish it? Or are you the reluctant one?"

Gregory's heart sank, knowing how this would end. "Just because you can't enjoy a bit of suffering doesn't mean I won't. Angie shouldn't have had a quick end."

"Well, maybe Cassie should," Vanny snapped, and before GGY could try to get in a word edgewise, she yanked the knife free from his grasp and plunged it into Cassie's heart.

Cassie only had the chance to gasp softly before sagging against her bonds, completely limp.

She was gone, and Gregory knew it was his fault.

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writingwife-83 · 6 months ago

Note

When Ben turned to the dark side of the Force in The Rise of Kylo Ren comics, Rey in the Jakku desert felt cold. They have always been connected, even before they met. Now imagine what Ben must have felt when Rey was born. When she was born, Ben was 10 years old and at that age he was sent to Luke's Jedi Academy. He missed Han and Leia a lot and there were certainly moments when he was very sad because of his parents' distance, especially in the first days of living at the Jedi Academy. But perhaps Rey's birth made an inexplicable joy well up in his heart that brought him a little comfort, even if he didn't know the origin of that happiness in his heart. I wish this became canon. 🥺

Well thanks a lot for that. 😭 No, but really, this is a great HC and I completely accept it! I feel like it would be something like this…

Hope Is Born

Ben pulled the covers up tighter around him, trying and failing to make himself comfortable. He hated the stiff bed and the scratchy blankets and the cold that never seemed to go away in this place, even with a fire nearby. This wasn’t home, and he didn’t want it to be.

What Ben wanted was his mother; wanted her to come tuck him in and tell him a story, to ruffle his hair and tell him he was looking more like his father every day. Then Ben would ask when his father would be home and his mother would get a faraway look in her eyes before smiling and giving him a vague answer like, ‘before you know it.’ And when his father was there, the bedtime stories would do nothing to tire him out, instead thrilling him and fueling adventurous dreams.

His little chin quivered in the next breath, anger quickly replacing the soft feelings for his parents as he remembered the things he used to hear them saying about him when they thought he was asleep. He hated them for sending him away. Uncle Luke was teaching him that anger and hate were wrong. But sometimes, in the quiet darkness, it felt good to let those emotions well up in him and embrace them. To imagine making them all sorry for all the times they’d hurt and rejected him. Sometimes the voices in his head praised him for those thoughts…

Suddenly, Ben’s eyes flew open. He sat up on his little cot, breathing heavily as his heart pounded and the hair on his arms stood on end. He nearly cried out for his uncle because of what he felt. The only reason he didn’t was because he wasn’t afraid. Instead, he felt…

Ben felt warm, for the first time since he’d come to Ossus. He felt warm and comforted. He was still surrounded by the darkness of night in his little tent, and yet somehow he could swear everything around him seemed brighter, more vibrant, and clearer.

He lay down again, the initial adrenaline slowly wearing off and leaving an intense peace in its wake. It felt as if he’d been hugged by his mother, told by his father that they loved him and were so proud, and then gently tucked in. It felt as if he’d been given everything he knew he needed and more in that one moment. As if someone out there was telling him it would all be ok.

For the first time in some weeks, Ben Solo shut his eyes, feeling completely calm. No voices to keep him up and haunt him, no anger or fear. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but he knew that something good had happened somewhere out there in the galaxy. It made him feel special to be a part of it, to have been able to feel it so intensely. Maybe it wouldn’t last, but it gave him something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

#wifey answers things #reylo #ben solo #young Ben solo #reylo hc #I just had to write this little thing #his childhood absolutely breaks me #especially since I’m the mother of an only son #with behavior issues #*sigh*#anyway #i’ll have to post this on ao3 soon #hope you like!

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puhpandas · 1 year ago

Text

And How Big The Little Things Can Be

(2,196 words)

Evan reminisces over how cold his house feels compared to Gregory's warm one, and gets some help when his emotions over it all get too much to control. Oh, and its also Halloween. 🎃

Evan has always hated the cold.

His father will keep the house at below sixty constantly. Both his father and Michael like it that way. They like the house being so cold it nips at Evan's ears even during Winter.

It's why when Evan first got the chance, he'd used the little amount of money he'd made on his own to buy a couple sweaters. His clothes had already been getting too small because of his growth spurt, but his Father wont take him to buy a new wardrobe until he physically cant fit into them anymore, or he looks ridiculous wearing clothes that rise at his stomach and choke his collar.

His Father had long since convinced their neighbors of his... feelings about the way Evan is. So when Evan had offered to do work to make money when all he had was T-Shirts and tank tops and shorts, they'd jumped at the opportunity to pay him for doing work like a 'real man'.

Since then, the cold had been a little more bearable, even though he has to wear two layers of socks and retreat to his thick comforter after school if he has no business outside.

Autumn has long since arrived, with the leaves turning shades of auburn and yellow, grass yellowing, and Evan's school library having spiderwebs and skeletons decorating its insides. His sweaters have gotten more use since the season started, with the harsh heat finally cooling until theres a pleasant breeze, the feeling of Halloween just around the corner.

But his sweaters cant stop the feeling of always having that chill in his chest when he'd hear a thump come from another place in his house, or when he'd hear a door slam, and that would signal somebody being home.

What a stark contrast that is to where he is now, warm, bundled up, and comfortable.

Hes sitting next to Gregory on that scratchy rug his house has in front of its fireplace, lights dim, the sun having long set, with a fluffy throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders and tucked neatly between his legs. He has only one hand free, just to bring the hot, piping mug of delicious hot chocolate to his mouth.

Fragments of their Halloween costumes are strewn across the floor, half-finished and homemade. It's the night before Halloween, or Halloween Eve as Gregory likes to call it, and they'd both come up with the bright idea of having matching costumes this Halloween.

They'd run around all day, jumping from store to store to gather supplies, since Gregory insisted on making their costumes from scrap. They'd already been tired when Roxy had taken them home, but still persisted and almost completely completed their costumes in one night.

Evan's eyes had been left stuttering and heavy at the end of it, shoulders sagged and body weary, but Evan hadn't felt bad. It's the first time Evans found out there can be a good kind of exhaustion. Where you've spent all day having fun, and still feel the remnants of excitement in your stomach.

They'd chosen the generic Angel, Devil, theme, but Gregory had promised him they'd have plenty of time to get through them all, someday.

It's only Evan's first Halloween since meeting Gregory, and he'd tried not to appear too affected by Gregory's words right in front of him when he'd first said them.

Never has Evan felt so... so excited for Halloween. Usually, its just the perfect opportunity for Michael to grab a one dollar mask at their local Spirit Halloween, and scare the living daylights out of Evan when he'd come back home from a good day, turning it into a worse day, because he wouldn't be able to shake the fear from his chest the rest of the night.

But this year, Evan has Gregory. Evan has people who actually treat Halloween like something fun, to look forward to, and not just as an excuse to scare him. This year, hes going trick or treating with his best friend, his family, and Evan's going to enjoy spending time with them. No looming prescense of Michael, just waiting to strike, or his Father, waiting for any excuse to comment on Evan's nature.

Its the first time he's felt excited for something like this, instead of dreadful. It's the first time Evan's been able to sit comfortably, and think of the coming days as something to look forward to, instead of something uncertain to be scared of.

It's the first time Evan's been warm, comfortable, and content in a long time.

The room is silent; save for the crackling of the fireplace and the soft music Gregory's house always seems to have playing. The only other sound is the general presence of Gregory and Roxy in the room with him.

Which is why when Evan suddenly has a wave of emotion wash over him, Gregory immediately snaps to attention from where he was nodding off when Evan starts crying.

"Evan?" Gregory asks worriedly, letting the blanket fall of his shoulders when he twists his body to face Evan. "Hey, are you okay?"

Evan shakes his head, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Im-- I'm alright." He sniffs, and looks away when the tears keep coming, hiding his face as much as he can in his blanket covered knees. "Um, dont worry about me, please. I'm okay, I swear."

Despite looking away, Evan can still feel Gregory's hovering, worried presence at his shoulder, and Roxys watchful gaze on him.

"Did something happen?" Gregory asks, spitfiring. "Evan, if somethings wrong, can you tell me? You know I never judge you. This time is no different."

Evan shakes his head, removing his face from the blanket and facing Gregory. "Theres nothing wrong." He promises, and at the look Gregory sends him, he insists. "No, I promise! I-I dont know what's wrong, or... why I'm crying. I was happy just a few moments ago."

Gregory looks as confused as Evan feels. All Evan can do is bring the sleeve of his favorite sweater up to his cheeks and wipe the tears away, even if more follow right after.

Roxy hums, and sets the laptop she had in her lap to the side, sliding off the armchair she was sitting in to sit in front of Gregory and Evan, careful to move the headbands with a halo and devil horns they had been working on out of the way.

"Evan," She starts gently when she settles. "Are you sad right now?"

Evan's eyes widen, and he shakes his head, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "No! I'm not." He insists. "...Which is why I'm so confused as to why I'm crying."

Roxy just tilts her head, leaning on one arm on the floor. "Okay, then let me ask you this, bud." She starts. "Have you ever cried because you were just so mad, or frustrated?"

Evan only thinks about it for a moment, his head nodding almost immediately, because he doesnt even have to mull that over. Theres been so many times where Evan would just smush his face into his pillow, and scream as loud as he could in his house. Because frustration is an emotion Evan is so used to, when Evan will wonder why Michael hates him so much.

"Yes." Evan says after a moment. "Yes, I have."

Roxy just nods, smiling that kind, but also wolfish smile of hers. "Then have you considered the idea that you might be crying because you're so happy?"

That makes Evan pause. He freezes, taking a moment for Roxys words to process as he turns them around in his head.

...It sounds awful when he thinks about it, doesnt it? The idea that he didnt even consider the idea of being happy enough to cry, because all he'd ever known is being mad, or sad enough to cry.

But that's what it is. That's what he reflects on, when for the first time, he's introduced to the idea that maybe, his emotions are just felt times two, and sadness and anger isnt the only thing he can feel intensely.

And also, that hes finally in a place where being so happy he can cry is a possibility. Is a reality.

Gregory must have noticed his intense thinking face, because then he seems to sag in relief, chuckling and shifting to get more comfortable. "So you were just so happy, that you cried?"

Evan doesnt answer for a moment, then finally tears his eyes away from the hole he was burning in the rug to look at Gregory. He nods, at first slowly, then more sure of himself. "Yeah." He sniffs, smiling. "I-I think so, yeah."

"Phew!" Gregory says exaggeratedly. "You had me worried for a second. I was afraid we somehow made you sad, or something."

Evan laughs, too, more tears pricking his eyes and following the tracks down his face, but all he does is wipe them away. "Me too." He says. "I was just confused. Because I'm not really sad around you guys."

Gregory just grins at him and grabs him in a side hug, shaking him slightly, but Roxy just chuckles, and hums again.

"Hang on." She tells them. They pause, glancing at her questioningly. "You two know how I go to the gym every Friday?"

Gregory nods, his hair tickling Evan's cheek, and Evan does too. Evan's been friends with Gregory for multiple months at this point, and he remembers Roxy talking about her weekly errand.

"Well," Roxy begins, smiling and looking pointedly at Evan. "I go to the gym because like you, Evan, I feel my emotions more intensely than other people might. But instead of it being all of them, like you, I just felt angry a lot. And it could get worse, and then I would blow up at people, or cry really hard."

Evan listens intensely, eyes wide. He nods, an invitation for Roxy to keep going, and she keeps that encouraging smile on her face. "It was like that for a long time. From when I was your age, to when I was a teenager. But it was only that way because I hadn't found my outlet yet."

Evan tilts his head. "Outlet?"

"I found out that hitting, or punching things, helps me channel my anger into one place, and let it all out without it affecting me or somebody else in a bad way." Roxy explains. "It helps to know you have a special time and place to let the emotions that build up inside of you out, so when they start to get bad before you're at that special spot, you can control them easier. Save them for when you know you'll be able to let them out."

Evan nods rapidly, soaking up every word. Hes never heard an adult talk about things he struggles with seriously before, let alone somebody who also experiences the same problem, and knows how to help. "So if I punch things, will it help me not cry so much?"

Roxy shakes her head, still smiling. "Probably not, Rockstar." She tells him, but before he can get too disappointed, keeps going. "But, we dont know. Things may not be the same for you the way they are for me, but if you try things out, eventually, you'll find the way that works best for you to let all your emotions out, so you dont blow up or they dont get uncontrollable in places you dont want them to."

Evan smiles, running the words over in his head. It's the first time theres ever been any indication that he can change, not for his family, but for himself. It's the first time Evan's felt like theres light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to his inner turmoil.

"If I could do it, you can too, Evan. My family didnt know how to help, but it was their support along with my friends' that helped me learn how to help myself."

"Well, you got us." Gregory pipes up, voice loud in Evan's ear. Gregory squeezes his shoulders a little tighter, twisting his body to be in Evans field of vision. "I'll help you find what your..." He pauses for a moment. "outlet is. I promise."

Evan smiles, moving to shift his neck to be pressed against Gregory. "Thank you." He says. To both of them. He meets Roxys eyes, and tries to express his gratitude with just his gaze.

Roxy seems to understand, because she just nods at him, as if to say 'I know you'll do great'.

"You should try punching Michael to see if thats your outlet." Gregory says. "I think that's a pretty good idea."

Evan splutters a laugh at that, and he can see Gregory grinning, too.

Evan's eyes are heavy, and sore from crying. Both from the exciting day he just had and from the emotions he just filed through, so when he let's himself lean against Gregory, body weary and cheeks littered with dried tear tracks, Gregory sits strong, and leans back as well.

Evan falls asleep like that, surrounded by warmth in more ways than one.

ao3 link

#i said it in the fic #but this is only months into their friendship #so evan hasnt developed more control over his emotions yet and that only actually starts here.#but evan is for sure already aware of how much more he likes it with gregory and his family than his own #and is close with gregory at this point #also where hes starting to bond more with other members of gregorys family #roxy was a good choice for this fic i think because i feel like with roxys obvious emotional issues #alongside self image issues they could relate!!#evan for sure feels bad about himslef for being the way he is #because hes only ever been taught that the way he is is bad or wrong or embarrassing.#but roxy being an actual adult whos been there done that who can help and takes him seriously is like. huge for him #flashlight duo #flashlight duo modern au #gregory and evan #the fazbears #pandas writes #holiday oneshot #halloween oneshot #flashlight duo oneshots #fnaf gregory #evan afton #my fics #oneshot #ficlet #fnaf fic

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