#i'm feeling hopeful for next year and have a semblance of a plan. That's what I meant there you go

[moonchild-in-blue]

I haven't really done much art for tumblr (at all) lately, cus life, but! Here's a lil something I've been working on (it's a Xmas gift) 💙

(also peep that lil January calendar painting 👀 i did mini squares for each month for myself, because I need to have a physical one always, and they each have their own colour 🥺)

[hyuckiefluff]

Dr. Dreamy | Na Jaemin - Part 2

pairing: doctor!na jaemin x fem reader genre: smut wc: 5.1k summary: you’re the best valentine’s day gift jaemin’s ever had the pleasure of unwrapping. content warning: explicit sexual content, some bdsm-ish stuff (bondage), temperature play, breast play, usage of sex toys, multiple orgasms, edging, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), mating press, lmk if i missed any! a/n: couldn’t wait for valentine’s day to post this sooo here it is (granted, over a month late) but i hope it makes up for the wait and satisfies all those who were craving a part two <3 thank you so much for reading and loving the first part. ps: read part 1 for the plot, this one is purely smut. oh and it feels important to add that juno by sabrina carpenter was on repeat while writing this. “have you tried this one?” picture jaemin saying that lol

part 1

Valentine’s Day had been exhausting for Jaemin. He barely had the energy to even think. The hospital was a madhouse. He’d never expected that so many injuries would come from couples trying something new with their partners. By the time he clocked out, it was already 11 PM, and he couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him for missing your first Valentine’s Day together. 

But as soon as he stepped through the door, his thoughts of guilt disappeared. There you were, lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. You were wearing nothing but the skimpiest piece of lingerie he’d ever seen before.

His breath caught in his throat as your gaze fell on him, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Long day?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness.

Jaemin’s throat tightened, but he managed to choke out a response. “Yeah… you could say that.” His voice cracked slightly as his eyes scanned over your body. “You look....”

“Good, I hope?” You giggled softly when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Absolutely,” he said, swallowing hard. “…Are you trying to kill me?”

You smiled and stood up slowly, giving him a full view of your curves. His gaze followed your every movement as you sauntered toward him. You stopped just inches from him, his body stiffening in anticipation. His hands ached to touch you.

“What’s the matter?” you teased, pressing your body against his lightly. “You look like you want something.”

Jaemin bit back a smirk, trying to hold on to his composure. He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “And you look like you're offering something.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him feel lighter, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest, or the tightness between his legs that was only growing. You seemed to notice it too, your hand slipping down his chest. “I think you might be right,” you said with a wink.

Jaemin tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, but his hands betrayed him by wandering to your waist on their own. You flinched slightly from the coldness and he smiled at that.

"You know," he said, with a half-smirk, "I'm not that easy." There was a playful challenge in his eyes. "You have to try harder than this."

“Oh, really?” you grinned, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Well, I think I can manage."

He felt the heat in his body surge just thinking about what you had planned for him. When you turned and began leading him to your room, he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace every curve of your body, lingering on the flimsy string of fabric between your cheeks—just a bow for him to undo.

Jaemin followed you into the bedroom, his mouth going agape at the sight. Candles flickered softly on the bedside tables, and rose petals were scattered across the floor and on the bed. The whole scene looked straight out of a movie, but it was real, and it was for him.

“Wow,” he murmured, genuinely impressed. “Princess, this is amazing. I should’ve done this for you…” His voice dropped, a slight frown forming as he looked at you.

“You can do it next year,” you replied, and the fact that you were already planning another Valentine’s Day with him made his heart swell. You closed the space between you, pulling him down by his neck and kissing along his jaw.

“You must be tired,” you whispered against his skin.

Jaemin's hands roamed over your back, cupping your ass making you gasp at the sudden touch. When your lips parted, he took the opportunity to kiss you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you’d been eating.

“Not anymore,” he whispered, lifting you up by your hips, your legs locked around his waist. He carried you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with need.

You pulled away, and for a moment he thought you would kiss him again. Instead, you gently pushed him down onto the bed and guided him to lie back. His chest rose and fell with anticipation, lips parted as you climbed over him and settled on top. He stayed still, pretending to be unaffected, but you noticed the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

"I want to try something new," you said, your voice laced with playful daring.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do I get a say in this?”

You paused for a moment before tugging his shirt up and over his head, letting your fingers graze his skin as you did. Your gaze roamed over him slowly, as if committing every inch to memory. His broad shoulders, abs that tensed whenever he took a breath, the faint happy trail he’d stopped shaving just because you said you liked it, the love bites still lingering on his chest from the other night.  

Reaching for his hand, you guided it to the delicate bow at the center of your bra, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Go on,” you murmured, “unwrap your present.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, smirking. He tugged on the bow and the bra fell open, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help the soft, reverent exhale that escaped him. “Fuck…” he groaned, his hands reaching to touch you, but you stopped him with a soft but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, leaning in to kiss the frown from his face. “Let me take care of you first.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest, but then you were gone. He saw you searching in the drawer, and when you returned to the bed, you had something hidden behind your back. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“Do you trust me, Jaem?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Of course.”

Then, you pulled out a blindfold, and he froze, anticipation and excitement flooding his system in equal parts “What are you planning, love?” he asked, his tone soft but amused.

“Something you’ll really like,” you whispered, placing a kiss below his ear.

Jaemin chuckled nervously, shivering slightly. “Should I be worried?”

You only smiled, slipping the blindfold over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his world went dark. His other senses immediately heightened and he tensed when he felt you reach for his wrists.

The soft touch of silk against his skin made him flinch. “Wait—what are you—” His breath hitched as you wrapped the restraints carefully around him.

His fingers twitched, an instinctive urge to move, but the fabric held him firm. He gave a small, experimental tug, testing the hold, and a shiver ran through him when he realized he couldn’t easily free himself. There was something almost dizzying about being kept like this, unable to touch you, forced to wait. The helplessness only made his excitement burn hotter.

“Wow,” he mused, voice light but strained, “Are we into bondage now?”  

Despite his attempt at humor, you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell a little faster when you gave the restraints a small tug.  

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost against his ear. “I want to see if you can last…” you whispered, your breath sending another shiver down his spine.  

Jaemin swallowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What do you mean…” he asked, careful now, as if realizing he’d just walked into a trap.  

You didn’t answer right away, and the silence only deepened the anticipation clawing at him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to act unaffected, but the combination of the blindfold, the restraints, and the sheer uncertainty of what you’d do next made it impossible to be calm.  

And then…cold.  

A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the ice cube slid across his chest, its sudden chill stealing the breath from his lungs. His entire body stiffened, muscles flexing against the cold shock.

“God—fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. He yanked at the restraints, desperate to get away from the bite of the ice but craving more of your touch at the same time. “You really like torturing me, huh?”

You laughed softly, a wicked note in your voice. “Torture? No…” you murmured, trailing the ice lower, just skimming the waistband of his pants. “I just want to see how far you’ll let me go to make sure you feel really good.”

Jaemin let out a strained breath, his fingers flexing against the restraints. He was still trying to hold onto some shred of composure, but his body was betraying him. He felt himself grow harder in his pants and he wanted to beg for you to release him but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break down so easily.

“Tell me, Jaem… have you ever touched yourself on a particularly chilly night?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing.  

“What—…” His breath hitched when you slid the ice cube lower, past his hip bones. “I… I don’t know… I suppose so,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Did your cold fingers feel nice?” you continued, drawing the ice in slow circles on his skin. “Did you like it?”  

Jaemin was trying to focus on your words, but the heightened sensation of the cold against his burning skin was making it impossible to think. The contrast was overwhelming, making his hips jerk involuntarily.  

“I—fuck… I guess so,” he breathed.  

Without warning, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen and startling both of you. 

“You seem excited,” you said, letting your finger graze the side of his shaft. His breath stuttered as he tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

The next thing he felt was cold sliding over his tip.  

“Shit—” he gasped, his whole body jerking as he tried to sit up, hunching over in a desperate attempt to regain some control. His bound wrists strained against the silk restraints, but they gave him no leeway. And then you did it again, this time, dragging the ice along the side of his cock, the sensation both shocking and exquisite.

“Fuck… th-that feels weird…” he shivered slightly.

His lips were red and wet from how he kept biting them, trying not to moan too loudly.  

You leaned in, kitten-licking the tip while still holding the ice against him.  

“Wait—” he moaned, his hips bucking up instinctively.  

With one last teasing kiss to his tip, you pulled back, watching the way he twitched, the way his body practically vibrated with pent-up need.  

“Looks like you’re ready to play.”  

Jaemin exhaled shakily. The way you were handling him was so different to what he was used to. He was always the one setting the pace, pulling pleasure from you at his leisure. But now, you had him completely at your mercy. And the craziest part was how much he was enjoying it.  

He heard more movement, some shuffling and the quiet creak of the mattress as you settled back in front of him. His muscles tensed in anticipation, his whole body straining against the restraints. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you down and take what he needed but all he could do was wait.

“Jaem, do you know what a cock ring is?” you asked, your voice so soft and innocent that for a second, he thought he must’ve misheard you.  

“Hm?” His brain was lagging, too focused on the lingering cold of the ice cube melting against him. Then your words sank in. “Yeah,” he swallowed.  

“Good,” you hummed, and before he could react, he felt your warm hand wrap around him, pumping once, just enough to make his hips twitch, to make a moan escape his throat before he could swallow it down.  

And then something hard pressed against his dick.  

“Fuck—” he hissed, his body tensing as you carefully slid the cock ring into place. His sensitivity was already heightened, and the combination of your touch and the unfamiliar tightness made him shudder.  

“I want you to hold on as much as you can,” you murmured, trailing your fingers up his stomach, nails lightly scratching at his skin. “Can you do that for me?”  

Jaemin groaned, tugging at the restraints in frustration. “You’re so fucking unfair.”  

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”  

Jaemin’s breath came in sharp, uneven pants as you pulled away, leaving him aching for more. His head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice shaky. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they were bound, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping nothing. “You’re really trying to kill me…”

You only smiled, still running your nails lightly down his torso, making his abs twitch. “You’re being so dramatic, Jaem.”  

His head snapped up at that, eyes still blindfolded, but his frustration was written all over his face. “Dramatic?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Princess, I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and you’re just—” He groaned, pulling against the restraints again. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”  

You hummed as if considering his words, then leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his navel. “But it looks like you’re enjoying it.”  

Jaemin’s hips twitched, but he still managed a weak scoff. “I’d enjoy it more if you actually fucking did something.” His voice was strained, cracking at the edges.

You let your hand drift lower again, wrapping around him with a slowness that had him sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this what you want?” you murmured, your fingers squeezing just enough to make him twitch in your grasp.  

“Fuck—yes, that’s what I fucking want—”  

You gave a single stroke, dragging your hand up his length at an agonizing pace.  

Jaemin let out a throaty whimper, and the sound only intensified the heat pooling in your lower belly.  

His chest heaved as his thighs trembled. His whole body jerked, but the cock ring kept him from reaching the release he desperately chased.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, his voice practically a whine. “Princess, please, I need—”  

You tightened your grip slightly, cutting him off with another slow, teasing stroke. His hips bucked into your hand, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fucking enough, and the frustration in his voice was turning into something dangerously close to begging.  

“Please what, Jaemin?” you asked, tilting your head.  

His lip was pulled between his teeth so hard it was turning red, his whole body trembling from restraint. “Please, just—fuck, I don’t even know—just something, please, princess, I can’t—”  

His voice cracked again, revealing his desperation in every syllable. He was completely wrecked, yet still nowhere near getting what he wanted.  

And that was exactly how you wanted him.  

When your mouth dropped down on his dick again, you took in more than just the tip this time. You sucked and licked him just the way you knew he liked.

“God… oh god,” he groaned, his hips jerking up instinctively, but you kept him firmly in place, pressing down on his thighs.  

“Be good,” you murmured against his swollen tip, lips brushing the heat of him. “Or I’ll stop.”  

Jaemin let out a shaky breath, his fingers twitching at his sides, unable to do anything but take what you were giving him. “Fuck… you’re so—” His voice broke into a strangled gasp as you sank back down, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length. 

He was losing control. His thighs trembled under your touch, ragged gasps escaping his lips. His body was already screaming for release, but the cock ring kept him stuck on that unbearable edge, holding him in a storm of pure, agonizing pleasure.

“I can’t… anymore… please.” His voice was strained, broken apart by breathless moans. “Please, take it off.”  

You pulled back just enough to let your breath fan over his tip. “Take what off, Jaem?”  

“Everything,” he choked out. “Let me touch you… let me see you… let me fuck you…please.”  

The little laugh you let out made his stomach tighten painfully. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve held out longer just to make you work for it. But he was past the point of caring about winning right now.

“Well…” You let your hands caress down his thighs, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”  

The first thing to come off was the blindfold. Jaemin blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted, the dim light in the room almost blinding after what felt like hours in the dark. His gaze flickered over your form, hovering over him like a lioness about to pounce. Fuck, he forgot you were braless. His hands twitched against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

Then his eyes dropped lower. His dick was painfully swollen, red at the tip, the cock ring still keeping him from the relief he needed. His breath caught as you reached down, fingers brushing his base before you finally removed it. The rush of sensation that followed had his whole body tensing, his abs clenching as he gasped through the sudden overwhelming relief. He was seconds away from—  

You moved to undo the silk restraints, and the moment his wrists were free, he lunged.  

You let out a sharp squeal as he grabbed your arm and yanked you down, pressing your body flush against his chest. In one quick movement, he flipped you onto your back, looming over you with a wicked, predatory grin.  

“Shouldn’t have fucking released me, princess,” he growled, voice still rough from moaning. He licked his lips, eyes raking down your body like he was deciding where to ruin you first. “You’re gonna take everything I give you now.”  

There was no fear in your gaze—only pure, smoldering desire.  

Jaemin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring you, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands finally claimed your body. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing, teasing, all while his hips rolled against your barely clothed core.  

Then, he flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped, feeling his body press against your back, his lips tracing a heated path from your shoulder to the nape of your neck.  

“Wanted to do this since I walked through that door,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear, undoing the tiny bow with a slow pull. His eyes went dark with greed and desire when he saw it fall apart and expose your bare backside to him. 

He kissed along your spine, then rocked his hips against your ass with a shuddering sigh before flipping you over again.  

You were already breathless, your mind hazy, and he still hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most.  

But then, just when you thought he was going to finally take you—he suddenly grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed, shifting you so you were face-to-face with his abs.  

Your brows furrowed in confusion, until you felt his dick sliding between your breasts.  

“Gonna let me fuck your tits, princess?” he murmured, voice husky.  

Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, and without hesitation, you pressed your hands against the sides of your chest, squeezing your breasts together, trapping him between them.  

Jaemin groaned, the sound deep and raw, before spitting onto your chest to lubricate the area.

You gasped softly, the sheer filth of it making your thighs squeeze together, but Jaemin was also too far gone to tease you about it. He let out a low, guttural fuck as he thrust, slow at first, watching himself slide between the plushness of your breasts.  

“Shit…” His breathing was heavy, his fringe damp with sweat, his jaw slack as he fucked into the tight heat of your chest. “Letting me fuck your perfect tits—fuck.”  

The sounds filling the room were obscene. The wet slide of his dick against your skin, the breathy moans slipping from his lips, the quiet, desperate whimpers coming from you.  

Your legs clenched again, seeking friction, your own arousal dripping down your thighs.  

Jaemin’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts grew uneven, more desperate. “I’m—fuck, I’m close—”  

Suddenly, his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up.  

“Open for me, princess.”  

You parted your lips instinctively, watching through hazy, lidded eyes as he pumped himself, working himself closer and closer—until the first warm spurts landed across your chest and tongue. His thumb swiped through the mess on your chest, and before you could even react, he brought it to your lips.  

“Taste.” His voice was hoarse.  

Your tongue flicked out to catch it. His breath stuttered as he watched you.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing against your tongue just a second longer before pulling away. His cock twitched against your stomach, already getting hard again.

You let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together, the ache between your legs only growing sharper.  

Jaemin caught the movement immediately.  

“Oh?” He smirked, eyes flicking down to where you were shamelessly pressing your legs together for any friction. “You want more?”  

You whined, squirming.  

He hummed, as if amused. “Poor thing.”  

“Jaem…” Your voice came out as a whimper, breathless, desperate.  

His smirk deepened. He loved seeing you this way—helpless, needy, falling apart before he even touched you properly. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy.  

“What’s wrong, princess?” His hand ghosted over your stomach before slipping between your legs, fingertips grazing your soaked folds. “You need help?”  

You bucked your hips, but he barely applied any pressure, making you whimper in protest.  

You let out a frustrated sob, moving to take over yourself, but his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.  

“Ah, ah! We can’t have that,” he tsked, eyes flashing dark. 

The next thing you know, your hand is being replaced with his own, two fingers sliding through your folds. Your entire body jolted at the contact.  

Jaemin groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your swollen clit. “You like having my cock between those pretty tits that much?”  

You barely managed a nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“Such a messy little thing,” he teased, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over your clit, just enough to make you desperate, but not enough to give you what you needed. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”  

“Jaemin—”  

His fingers pushed in, stretching you, filling you just enough to make you gasp.  

“Holy fuck,” Jaemin groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His cock was already leaking against your thigh, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “You’re so tight. You’re gonna fucking choke my fingers.”  

He pumped his fingers in and out, slow but deep, so deep you were writhing beneath him.  

“Jaem, please—” Your walls clenched, thighs trembling.  

“Hm?” He purred. “Tell me exactly what you want.”  

Your eyes were glassy, your body begging for it. “Please, just fuck me.”  

Jaemin let out a sharp exhale, visibly shaking as he tried to hold himself back.  

“You—” His voice broke. He looked down, seeing how you were practically dripping down his fingers, and groaned, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”  

His fingers slipped out with a wet, filthy sound. Before you could even whine, he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance.  

Your breath caught.  

But he didn’t push in.  

He just teased, rubbing himself between your folds, coating himself in your slick. He watched with dark, hooded eyes as you twitched beneath him, whimpering at every brush of his cock against your swollen clit.

“You want it?” His voice dripped with sin.

“Jaem—”

“Beg for it.”

The jerk was using your own tricks against you.

Now, you were regretting edging him earlier, because this… this felt like hell.

You whined, your nails digging into his arms. “Please, Jaem. Please. I need you. I need your cock inside me, I—fuck—I can’t—”  

That was enough for him. With a wrecked groan, he slammed inside you in one stroke, bottoming out so deep you saw white.  

A choked cry left your lips, your entire body arching off the mattress.  

“Oh my fucking god—” Jaemin’s voice broke, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you were sure it would bruise.  

He was shaking, breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside you as he tried not to cum right then and there.  You were so tight, so wet, so warm. He felt like he was going insane.

“You—” His voice was strained, wrecked. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”  

His thrusts punched the breath out of you, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him like a vice.  

“Holy shit—fuck—” Jaemin groaned, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. “You’re so tight—I can feel you fucking squeezing me—”  

You couldn’t even form words, just moaned and whimpered, nails raking down his back.  

Jaemin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up and folding you beneath him.  

The angle —oh god—the angle had his cock hitting so deep it left you shaking, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.  

“There we go,” Jaemin groaned, watching you writhe under him. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”  

“Jae—Jaemin—”  

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re taking me so well, princess. So, so well.”  

His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. The pleasure crashing over you all at once.  

“Cum for me, baby,” Jaemin rasped, barely holding himself together. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.”  

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense your vision blurred, your entire body shaking under him as you cried out his name.  

Jaemin groaned, feeling you clench around him. His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, moaning against your throat as he came again, filling you completely.  

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and shaking limbs.  

Jaemin finally lifted his head, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes dark.

He smirked a cat-like smile.

“I hope you don't think we’re done.”  

He was still inside you, his cock twitching, throbbing, still semi-hard despite just coming deep inside you. He could feel you clenching weakly around him.

You didn’t want it to be done.

You felt empty, even with his cock still buried inside you. You needed more, needed all of him, needed him to ruin you completely.

And he could tell.  

Jaemin tilted his head as his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him. His thumbs traced slow circles into your skin both soothing and possessive, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.  

“Think you can handle more?” The low rumble of his voice had you feeling dizzy.  

You nodded, too fucked out to form anything coherent.  

He hummed, pretending to consider. “Now that I think about it… you were pretty mean to me earlier.” His hands slid lower, gripping your ass and giving it a sharp squeeze that made you jolt. “Do you even deserve it?”  

“Yes—yes, please, Jaem—”  

He laughed, a breathy chuckle that broke apart into something rougher, needier.  

“Insatiable little thing.”  

And then he was pulling out achingly slow, dragging every inch of himself through your trembling walls. The friction sent a helpless whimper tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin nearly lost his mind at the sound.  

He stared down at you, his ruined, pretty girl. Face flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, lips swollen and parted, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

He growled, gripping your waist and flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement.  

You gasped, heart pounding as Jaemin manhandled you effortlessly, positioning you exactly how he wanted with your chest pressed to the mattress and ass high in the air.

He moaned, running his hands down your spine, over the curve of your hips, before gripping your ass and spreading you open for him.  

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way your slick dripped down your thighs, his own cum still leaking from your core.  

His cock throbbed painfully at the sight.  

“Fuck, baby, I made such a mess of you.”  

You whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, trying to tempt him. But Jaemin only smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you squirm.  

“What do you want, princess?” His voice was low, smug.

You whined, pressing your face into the pillow, trying to grind back against him.

“Jaem—please—”  

He tutted, gripping your hips to hold you still. “You’re so cute when you beg.”  

Then, he slid inside you again, slowly making you feel every inch. You cried out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

Jaemin groaned, rolling his hips slow but deep. His cock pressing against a spot that made black spots appear in your vision.  

“Oh, my god—”  

“That’s it,” he praised, gripping your waist tighter. Watching the way your back arched, how you clenched around him so perfectly.  

He was so deep like this, hitting angles that had you completely unraveling beneath him.

“God, you’re perfect for me,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you choke on your breath.  

His hands traveled down, reaching for your arms, and before you could even react, he pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest. One hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping your throat lightly.

Your moan was sinful, body trembling as Jaemin fucked up into you, the new position letting him bury himself impossibly deep.  

“Shit—” Jaemin choked out, pressing his lips to your sweaty temple. 

His free hand slid down your stomach, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing torturous circles in time with his thrusts.  

You gasped sharply, hands grabbing at his wrists.  

“Too much?” He teased, his voice taunting, but the way he was shaking against you, the way his thrusts were growing sloppier, told you he was just as close as you were. 

You could only moan, pleasure overwhelming you, his cock dragging against that perfect spot over and over, his fingers pushing you closer—

“Cum for me again, princess.” He said, lips pressed to your jaw, groaning with every thrust.  “I want to feel you squeeze me.”  

And just like that another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down on him so tight he nearly screamed.  

Jaemin cursed, feeling you pulsing around him, dragging him straight into his own orgasm. 

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” His body convulsed, hips stuttering as he filled you up once more, letting go with a strangled moan against your throat.

Jaemin finally collapsed, pulling you down with him. He wrapped himself around you, pressing lazy kisses to your bare shoulder.  

His arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go.  

“God,” Jaemin exhaled, still breathless, lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I might have broken you, princess.”  

divider creds toastray

my inbox is always open for any comments/feedback about the fic <3

if you like my work or if you’d like to request something, you can send a kofi, but reblogs are just as cool, thank uu ! 🎀

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

REMEMBER YOU YOUNG // bucky barnes

CHAPTER 1: WELCOME TO NEW YORK

Summary: You end up stuck in 1942 without a way to come back, but when you meet the young and charming version of Bucky Barnes, do you really want to go back to the present?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of war, lack of 40's knowledge, mentions of back to the future & the butterfly effect (with spoilers)

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. I'm sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. No proofread or beta-ed.

It’s been an eternity since I've written for Bucky… I posted this fic I a few years ago, and I was going through it again, but I wasn’t happy with how I wrote it back in the day, so I decided to start it over. Reader how travels back in time and falls in love with Bucky is one of my favorite tropes 🙈 Hope you guys like it!!!!

marvel masterlist | series masterlist

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

In and out.

Easy. Risk-free.

You'd had the warehouse under surveillance for weeks, every corner carefully analyzed, the plan memorized like a mantra.

Steve had repeatedly said, “Do not touch the crystal.” To be honest, he'd repeated it more times than necessary. And even if you'd never admit it, you knew you were the reason for it.

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Hot-headed.

You were a good agent; that was indisputable. But you had the flaw of having trouble keeping your restlessness and curiosity at bay.

And that's why, when you entered the room, with Wanda behind you, your eyes were drawn to the glass resting on a pillar in the center of the room. It radiated an almost hypnotic white glow.

Steve's voice warning that the crystal shouldn't be touched without proper protection echoed in a remote corner of your mind, like an echo fading into the distance. And even closer, Wanda's voice was a murmur urgently calling your name.

You couldn't help it. It was like a magnetic pull, and the Chrono Crystal was chanting your name.

Your hand extended slowly, almost subconsciously. The moment felt frozen in time, as if the world had stopped spinning for a split second. When your fingertips finally made contact with the raw edges of the crystal, a pulse rushed through your body, leaving you paralyzed.

And then it happened.

The first thing was a powerful flash of light, so powerful that when you faced it, you had to close your eyes and shield your face with your arm.

The next thing was a tremor, the vibration of the ground resonating through your bones, and with a shudder, you lost your balance, collapsing next to Wanda on the cold concrete floor.

Then, a gust of wind blew toward you, a whirlwind that carried with it a force that defied logic. The white light intensified even further, enveloping every corner of the room in a flash so bright it was impossible to see anything. A few seconds later, the chaos ceased, and everything went black.

As your vision cleared, you realized something was wrong. The cold walls and concrete floor of the warehouse had been replaced by the grimy walls and floor of a dimly lit alley.

You slowly got up from the ground, wincing in pain as you touched your side, feeling it slightly bruised from the fall. Dazed and disoriented, you struggled to process your abrupt displacement. You found yourself standing in a narrow alleyway, surrounded by decaying posters plastered on the walls. The clamor of bustling city life and indistinct chatter filled your ears.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation. “What the hell just happened?”

You heard Wanda groaning while getting up on her feet, brushing the dust off her jacket. When her sight gathered back its focus, her expression morphed into a confused one, which you were pretty sure matched yours.

“Where are we?”

You took tentative steps, your eyes darting from one end of the alley to the other, searching for any semblance of familiarity. The disorienting shift in your surroundings fueled a growing sense of unease within you. Your heart raced as you tried to recall what could have caused this bewildering displacement.

Then it hit you.

“The crystal,” you murmured.

“Steve warned you not to touch it,” she reprimanded.

“Actually, he warned all of us.”

“He just said it because of you.”

And you knew she was right.

You turned around to see Wanda, who was holding a newspaper in her hands with a frightened expression on her face. 

“What is it?” you inquired, curious as to what had disturbed her so deeply. She put out the newspaper for you to read, and dread settled in your gut. 

“THE BATTLEFRONTS OF THE WAR IN THE SOUTHWESTERN PACIFIC JAPANESE CLOSING PINCERS ON JAVA”

And the date.

February 18, 1942.

“We’re… We’re in the past.” The realization tumbled from your lips, heavy and surreal.

Was it actually feasible that you had gone back in time? 

Is this why they kept the crystal secured?

“What do we do now?” Wanda looked at you as if she expected you to come up with a solution; after all, you were responsible for this situation. If you had followed Steve’s orders and not touched the Chrono Crystal, you would not be here right now. Instead, you would have finished the mission and be back at the compound, safe and enjoying a cup of ice cream while watching some shitty show on Netflix.

You sighed. “I don’t know.”

“They’re going to come for us, right?”

You could hear the tremble of anxiety in her voice as she spoke, and it matched your own mounting fear. The weight of the moment pressed down on your shoulders, with each second extending into eternity as you tried to come up with a plan.

“Yeah, eventually,” you replied, though your words were coated with uncertainty. “They must have realized something had happened. Tony and Banner would quickly figure out what the crystal can do.”

“What do we do until then?”

For the time being, you concluded that looking for a place to stay was the best course of action. You stepped out of the alley and onto the streets of Brooklyn. 

The air was filled with the sounds of streetcars clattering down the rails and people discussing the latest news. The sidewalks were bustling with activity, lined with oak trees and lampposts. 

Men in hats and suits, women in gowns with nicely coiled curls, all going about their daily routines. Stores displayed their goods in small windows, luring passersby with flashy signs. The aromas of freshly baked bread and fried fish wafted from corner delis and bakeries.

You noticed the advertisements painted on brick walls, touting things that have long ago disappeared or evolved, and the newspaper boys shouting headlines about the ongoing war, and mothers rushing by with their children.

Everything felt so familiar yet completely foreign.

You understood how Steve felt when he walked into Times Square for the first time after being defrosted.

As you went through the crowd, you could see people giving you weird looks, attempting to get out of your way, and avoiding walking near you at all. 

“Why are they looking at us like that?” you inquired.

Wanda halted walking and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the side of the roadway. “I think it’s the clothes,” she pointed out.

“What’s wrong with our— ” You stopped your words when you took a look at what you were wearing. “Oh.”

You couldn’t stroll down like that. It was drawing attention, which was the last thing you two needed right now. Wanda paused for a moment, unsure if she should do what she was contemplating or not; it was a good option, the only one you had. 

Wanda sighed. She did not have a choice. 

You glanced at her and immediately knew what she wanted to do. It was one of the many reasons The Scarlet Witch was your closest friend—there was no need for words to communicate what the other was thinking.

With a snap of her fingers and just a few seconds later, you glanced down to see your new garments. Your twenty-first-century clothing had been swapped for simple, period-appropriate attire, resembling those commonly worn by women in those days.

You looked at her with the fascination that you’d always held whenever you saw Wanda utilize her powers. You couldn’t understand why people could be afraid of her when she could do such wonderful things.

The next day, you were lying in the bed of the hostel you were staying in, and the ceiling had never looked more interesting. It had been more than 24 hours, and you still hadn't heard from your friends.

You hadn’t left the room since you arrived and were beginning to feel suffocated.

“Let’s get out,” you said as you rose from the bed. Wanda averted her attention from the book she was reading and glanced at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“Are you crazy? We can’t just wander around the city like that!”

“Why not?” You pouted and sat in her bed next to her. “What is the harm?”

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Hot-headed.

Careless.

Wanda sighed and shut the book in her hands. “We aren’t home! We cannot parade around the city as if we belong here.”

“I just want to have some fun!”

“You wanting to have fun is what brings you into trouble, and let the rest of us deal with the consequences.”

She was not trying to be mean. She loved you; you were her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, and the only consistency in her life, but your persistent negligence drove her nuts. No matter how many times you burned, you never learned.

Like right now— you were stuck eighty years back in the past because of your reckless behavior, and you wanted to go out and have fun as if it were any other Friday.

You got up abruptly from the bed and made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

You did not respond to her as you exited the room, closing the door behind you and leaving the building and onto the streets of New York. You knew you were acting childishly, and Wanda was correct, but you were too proud to admit it.

You wandered through the streets with no particular destination in mind; all you wanted was to feel the breeze on your face. You had been walking for at least twenty minutes when you spotted a building that caught your eye.

‘The Lindy Lounge’

A dance hall.

You crossed the street and headed towards the building. 

The doorman, dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and a bow tie, smiled and nodded to you in greeting.

A live band playing a fast tune, the beating of tap shoes on the shiny wooden floor. The aromas of perfume and tobacco smoke hung in the air.

Couples swayed in perfect sync with the music on the dance floor. A half-moon-shaped bar circled one wall of the room where patrons gathered, sipping cocktails and chatting.

The scene was completely different from the clubs you used to go to in Brooklyn nowadays.

As your eyes kept exploring the room, you spotted a short man standing out from the crowd that you couldn’t help but recognize. You narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of him.

He was so much different now, but you could still recognize Steve Rogers anywhere.

You turned away as soon as you recognized him. Steve could not see you—yes, he didn’t know who you were yet, but he would meet you in the future, which could have a wide range of consequences. 

What if you do something that changes the past and influences the future?

You’ve watched ‘Back to the Future’ enough times to know that one small action could create ripples across time. 

The butterfly effect was no joke. 

What if you do something that alters the past and impacts the future?

Like when Marty unintentionally interfered with his parents’ first meeting, almost wiping himself out of existence.

Or that other movie with Ashton Kutcher, where he realized he could travel back to key moments in his life by reading his journals. Every time he modified an event in his past to achieve a better future for himself, he discovered that the repercussions of his actions were far more intricate and catastrophic than he ever anticipated.

You groaned inwardly at the thought; you couldn’t let that happen.

That would be your biggest screw-up ever.

You began to panic, your mind racing as you made your way back to the exit, only to turn around and clash with someone.

“Careful, doll.” 

That voice, why did it sound so familiar to you? 

You looked up, heart pounding, and found yourself staring into the piercing steel-blue eyes of a much younger version of Bucky Barnes.

His gaze was soft, devoid of all the sorrow he had become familiar with these days, and the charming smile across his face contrasted sharply with the ever-present frown he wore now.

The Bucky Barnes you knew was nothing like the man who currently stood in front of you.

“Bucky?” You stammered, your lips moving before you could control them. 

Here it goes, the second mistake of the night.

Confusion washed over his face. “Do we know each other?”

Your brain short-circuited, searching for a plausible response.

“Um– I mean… Is there any single lady in Brooklyn who doesn’t know who Bucky Barnes is?” You said, forcing a hollow laugh from your mouth.

He chuckled lightly, and the sound shot a thrill through you. It was so rare to hear Bucky laugh, “Guess you have a point there. I’m hard to miss.”

You sighed internally, relieved that your somewhat picky line had worked. 

His hand was still resting on your shoulder, having caught you when you collided with him and kept you from falling. It felt warm and reassuring, in sharp contrast to the chaos in your mind. You couldn’t believe you were standing in front of a version of Bucky who wasn't burdened by the weight of years of HYDRA’s torment. 

A Bucky that was on the verge of becoming what he would inevitably turn out to be. 

“Uh, are you alright?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly, a hint of concern creasing his brow, and then it was then that you realized you had been staring at him for far too long, lost in contemplation.

You hurriedly averted your gaze, muttering, “Y-yeah, sorry.”

You tried to get by him and keep to your original plan of leaving the club. If letting Steve see you was a bad idea, talking to Bucky was far worse. But he gently grasped your upper arm as you were about to depart, turning your heels back to face him.

“C’mon, doll. You can’t leave me like that,” he said with a smile that never left his face. 

It was so odd to see him happy. Bucky rarely smiled these days, not that you could blame him given what he'd gone through. And now you couldn't get over how wonderfully beautiful he looked with a smile on his face.

“You owe me at least one dance.”

He offered his hand to you, and you knew you should have declined because it was a bad idea and may have long-term ramifications, but there was something about him that drew you in, even if reasoning told you to go. Your gaze darted between his outstretched hand and his boyish smile. 

“Just one dance?” 

“Just one,” he assured you, his voice smooth and soothing. “I promise.”

Your brain was shouting at you in every way conceivable, reminding you of the butterfly effect, the temporal paradox, and how just a few minutes before, you were attempting to flee to avoid any irreversible damage. 

However, you were not known for making sound decisions. 

Against your better judgment, you shut off your brain and placed your hand in his. His grip was firm as he guided you to the dance floor.

Here it goes, the third mistake of the night.

It was late when you walked into the hostel room, but Wanda was still up, perched on her bed like a mother waiting for her daughter to return from a late-night rendezvous. 

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

You bit your lower lip, a habit you developed when you were nervous. Wanda knew you like the palm of her hand, and one look at you told her something was up.

“What have you done?” Even though her voice sounded fatigued, it remained steady.

“I fucked up… again.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, the twitch of her lips betraying a hint of empathy despite the sternness in her expression. “You know that’s not an answer, right?” she asked, sitting up straighter and folding her arms. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

You took a seat on the bed opposite to hers, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words to recount your evening to your friend.

His hands were on your back, with yours wrapped around his shoulders. You swayed

to the slow melody the band was playing as the soft notes filled the air.

“So, you know my name, but I don’t think I got yours.”

Giving him your real name was definitely not the most sensible idea, but at this point, you might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.

A smile formed on his lips as he tasted your name. “It suits you perfectly. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

His unabashed flirting made you chuckle. You’d heard the stories from Steve about Bucky’s amazing luck with the ladies. But now that you had that man in front of you, his hand wrapped around your waist and dancing so close to you, you could see why so many women fell for him.

He really had a game.

His gaze remained fixed on you as you continued to dance to the music. He tightened his grip on your back and leaned in to get closer to you.

“How is it that I have never seen you around before?”

“I’m just passing by,” you simply stated, not technically lying to him. You still held hope that your friends were working on a way to bring you back home.

“Does that mean I’m not gonna see you again?” His voice sounded disappointed.

You peered into his deep blue eyes and felt the warmth of his gaze pulling you in. "Well, that depends," you replied playfully, a smile teasing your lips.

"Depends on what?" He prompted, tilting his head slightly as if hoping to catch a peek of the thoughts swirling behind your eyes.

You waited a few seconds to respond, weighing your words carefully. “Depends on whether you can convince me that it’s worth seeing you again.” 

Bucky chuckled, a low, rich tone that sent shivers down your spine. "I see how it is. A challenge, huh? I like a challenge," he replied, his grip firm but gentle as he drew you in closer, his heart beating steadily against yours.

The band shifted into a new song, one with a faster tempo, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he led you around the dance floor, expertly weaving between couples.

“Oh, do you? Or do you just like collecting pretty faces for your scrapbook?”

Bucky laughed, genuinely. “If that were the case, I'd have a whole wall dedicated to you by now." His forehead almost touching yours. “But I’m more interested in the stories behind the faces. What makes you… you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared back at him. The world around you faded away, and for that fleeting moment in the dance hall, it was just the two of you.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re just passing through?”

The question lingered in the air, and you hesitated. “Let’s just say I’m taking a little detour from my usual routine.”

“A detour?” His eyebrows raised in playful skepticism, and he leaned in again to keep the moment private. “You mean to tell me a girl like you doesn’t have a regular hustle?”

“Sometimes life has a funny way of making you take unexpected paths,” you said, your voice steady but playful enough to deflect the question without losing his attention.

“You should stick around these paths a little longer,” he suggested. “I have a feeling, if you do, you'd find more than just a dance.”

You searched his gaze, feeling the weight of his words linger in your head. “What if I don’t?” You asked, a touch of a challenge lacing your tone.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure I make every second count.” 

He brought one of the hands that were resting on your back to your face and gently caressed your face. Cupping your jaw, he stared into your eyes, silently asking for permission to close the small distance between you. 

When you did nothing to stop him, he leaned in closer, his eyelids fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours. Bucky's lips were warm and surprisingly soft, coaxing you into the moment. Time seemed to stand still, the music around you fading into a background hum, and it felt as though the entire world had zeroed in on just the two of you.

His fingers curled gently around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips. You wanted to hold onto this memory. This version of Bucky has only known you for a few hours, yet his kiss was more meaningful than any kiss you have experienced in past relationships. It was something you hadn’t realized you craved until now, so you let yourself get lost in the kiss.

And here it goes, the fourth mistake of the night.

“What the hell!” Wanda exclaimed your name, raising her voice at you. “Do you have any idea of what you have done?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” You ran your hand through your hair and exhaled sharply. “He was just—”

“Since when do you have feelings for Bucky?”

“I don’t!”

Wanda crossed her arms, her face one of incredulity and frustration. “Really? Because it sure doesn’t sound like it, and it certainly doesn’t look like it.”

“I swear, Wanda, it was just a moment!” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “A dance, a kiss… nothing more than that!”

You were not lying. You’d scarcely spoken to the man since Steve brought him to the compound. You knew nothing about him aside from the basic information that everyone else knew.

He was quiet, reticent, and brooding most of the time, with a heaviness that appeared to follow him like a shadow. He spent the majority of his time locked in his room. And the times he finally came out, he sought to remain out of everyone's way to avoid being a burden.

Wanda stepped closer, her green eyes narrowing as she studied your face for any signs of duplicity. “You don’t just dance and kiss someone like that. Especially not Bucky! You have no idea what that might signify in the future. Messing with the timeline like that... You really outdid yourself with this one."

“I didn't mean to! I didn’t plan it!” You ran your fingers through your hair again, pacing the small room. “You think I wanted to end up here, in the past, making a fool of myself over a guy I barely know?”

“It’s not just about you,” Wanda insisted. “What if he starts to feel something for you? What if he remembers this? You might end up erasing part of his past or—”

“Or what? It’s too late to take it back now,” you interrupted. "I know I screw up alright?"

Wanda’s shoulders fell slightly as she glanced at you, frustrated but concerned. “What did you do after you kissed him?”

You hesitated, the recollection returning in a maelstrom of emotions. “We just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. It felt like time stopped still.”

Wanda lifted an eyebrow, clearly still on edge. “And then?”

“And then I panicked!” You flung your hands up again, feeling the weight of the situation fall on you. “I wasn’t sure what to say! So I just… I pulled away and ran.”

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (1)

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

masterlist || next || playlist

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

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

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

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

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

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thought for a second before replying.

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

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

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

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

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

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

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiding behind humor was a pastime. 

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

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

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

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

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

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

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

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

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see me?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

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

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

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

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

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

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

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

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

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart. 

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

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

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

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

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

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

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

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

First work then play, I told myself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

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

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like we have company!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hope the concert was nice.”

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

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

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t look very impressed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I put your stuff in your room.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I felt like an asshole.

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

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

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

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him. 

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

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

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

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “See you.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Likewise," I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Two

Summary:

You really want to get Astarion back for making you feel so flustered, but as a result you find yourself in a bit of an uncomfortable position.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 3.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, under-the-desk blowjobs, semi-public sex, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, poor gale doesn't deserve this

Oh shit she's writing? I had like six other things planned but I can't keep away from this world. Once again thank you @zipzoomzaria for the beautiful screenshots and also the inspo for Professor Astarion, and @aw11tht33tha for the beta!

You don't need to have read part 1 for this part to make sense, but it does help.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Ever since you slept with Astarion - or, perhaps more accurately, he fucked you mercilessly over his desk - you haven't been able to get him out of your head. It's been a little embarrassing, frankly. Every time you pass him in the hallway, a single glance over those round wire frames has you suppressing the moan that bubbles in your throat. One whiff of his fragrance and your pussy clenches in a Pavlovian response.

You're standing in front of your mailbox in the main office, reading some memo from the chair about season selection for next year. It's always a tedious process where no one can agree and you somehow all end up with shows you hate.

You smell him before you hear him, and you can feel your ears grow hot. He comes up behind you, standing closer than is probably necessary, and reaches above you to empty his own mailbox.

“Pardon,” he says politely, but you feel like he’s going out of his way to brush against you. A shiver runs down your spine as he very gently grazes the back of your neck while shuffling through the papers. 

He turns and starts chatting amicably with Grace. How can he stay so cool when you're practically in shambles? You pretend that you're still reading the short memo just to collect yourself. When he finally leaves the main office, you manage to turn around and imitate some semblance of a normal person. Grace catches your eye and frowns.

“Are you feeling okay? You're looking a little flushed,” she asks, genuine concern coloring her voice. You twist your face into a smile, hoping that it reads like gratitude rather than annoyance.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. Probably just a little dehydrated,” you say, putting a little extra rasp in your voice to sell your story.

“I’m about to leave for lunch, I can grab you something from the student union, if you're thirsty.” She smiles sweetly, fully unaware of the double entendre.

“I'm good, I have some water back in my office. I appreciate the offer, though.” The smile is now plastered to your face as you move to leave the office. You bump into Karlach while trying to make a hasty exit.

“Gods, soldier, you okay? You look like you just got out of a sauna.” She claps you on the shoulder and your knees buckle. The technical director had spent 10 years in the army, so you can't really fault her for the nickname, or the smack to the shoulder, for that matter.

“Just a little thirsty, is all,” you reply, continuing to scoot your way out of the office. 

“Yeah ya are!” She points two finger guns at you and flashes a big suggestive smile. You freeze for a half second, then realize she’s making a generic lewd joke and not pointedly calling you out for your current condition. You awkwardly finger gun back as you finally slip through the doorway and book it to your office.

You sit down at your desk and grab your water bottle, taking a long sip. It's unbelievable how much of a hold he has on you. What you wouldn't give to be able to fluster him as much as he does you. Have him struggle for words. Make him look like an idiot in front of your colleagues.

You think back to your bathtub fantasy from a few days ago. You could not have predicted the dynamic more incorrectly. You really thought that you'd be the one in control, that you could have him coming undone for you. The image of him whimpering beneath you still sets your heart racing, though it can't be further from the truth. Your breath hitches slightly as the scenario plays out vividly in your mind, like your own personal erotica.

“It must be rather exciting, whatever's got your blood going that way.” His sultry voice interrupts your debaucherous thoughts and you yelp in surprise. You glare at him leaning in the doorframe, hands in his pockets and collar casually unbuttoned, looking like an absolute treat. He chuckles and saunters into your office, settling into one of the chairs across from your desk and crossing his lithe legs. Despite your newfound attraction, he's still an arrogant little shit.

“I thought you couldn't come in uninvited,” you scowl, keeping your voice low for fear of someone overhearing.

“I don't recall being invited last time, but you didn't seem to mind,” he says with a laugh, and you squirm under his piercing red gaze. “Regardless, the rule only applies to homes, not individual rooms within a public university.”

Your frown deepens, unsure if he's being condescending or not.

“Is there something I can help you with, or are you just here to frustrate me?” You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, trying to imitate his casual authority. You're not terribly successful.

“You seem to be doing that perfectly well yourself, the way I could hear your arteries pumping from down the hall.” His smile widens, flashing just a hint of fang, and your resolve weakens. He stands and stretches his arms above his head, his shirt raising just enough for you to see a sliver of porcelain skin. You’re positive he’s just doing this to annoy you.

“Well, when you have a free moment, stop by my office, I have something to show you,” he drawls, an almost bored lilt coloring his tone. “And do try to keep that pulse of yours under control, it’s distracting to the point of vulgarity.” He glances at you over his glasses one more time before retreating into the hall again.

You cross your legs, trying to ease the ache between your thighs. He's absolutely insufferable. And he’s so much worse now that he knows he has this power over you.

You gather your materials for Voice and Speech, plotting ways to enact your revenge.

***

Against your better judgment, you find yourself walking toward Ancunín’s office after class. You take a moment before knocking on the door, smoothing down the front of your dress and tousling your hair to give it a little more volume.

Suddenly the door opens and Mol comes barrelling out in a huff.

“D’you believe this berk? Gettin’ on my tail for ‘academic integrity.’ Ain't nobody more integrous than me!” she grumbles, adjusting her bag angrily. She turns her heated gaze to you.

“Can you talk to your boyfriend and tell him to leave me alone?” she spits and you splutter involuntarily.

“Mol, we’re not–”

“Come off it, miss. Everyone sees the way you look at ‘im. Just work your magic so I can get back to gettin’ a college education.” And without another word, she's off. You blink, trying to make sense of what just happened. Are the students talking about the two of you?

Shaking your head, you knock on the door frame as you walk into his office. It's just as cozy as last time, warm light emanating from lamps in every corner to compensate for the blackout curtains over the windows. Honestly, how does anyone not know he's a vampire? You can almost hear his excuse, something about how “direct sunlight is ruinous to one’s skin.”

“Destroying students' lives by keeping them academically honest?” you smirk as you gently close the door behind you with your foot. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I swear, that girl is too clever for her own good. I'd almost respect it if she didn't get on my last nerve,” he sighs, putting his glasses back on and glancing up at you. His expression softens for a second before quickly shifting to mischievous. You slide over to him, leaning against the edge of his desk as you face him.

Any animosity you may have held dissolves as he looks up at you, his hand absentmindedly stroking your thigh just under the hem of your skirt. You shiver as you try to keep your voice steady.

“You said you had something to show me, professor?” You emphasize the title with the gusto of a young porn star. He smirks and pulls you down until you're straddling his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and grind your hips into him, feeling the beginnings of an erection. He lets out a little puff of air that can almost be mistaken for a moan. He buries his face into your tits, running his nose along the neckline of your dress and slides his hands under your skirt to cup your ass. You breathe in sharply, your breasts rising to meet his lips.

Then a knock at the door.

You both freeze and stare at one another. You hear a muffled voice on the other side.

“Dr. Ancunín, do you have a minute? I have something extremely important to tell you,” Dr. Dekarios from the School of the Weave shouts through the door.

Astarion instinctually replies, “Just a minute!” and the two of you share a wordless exchange.

-What the fuck are you doing?

-I don't know, I panicked!

-What am I supposed to do?

-Hide, perhaps?

Without thinking you slide off his lap and under the desk. Just in time, too, as Dr. Dekarios doesn't wait for Astarion’s permission to open the door and waltz right in.

“Dr. Ancunín, thank goodness, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.” You can hear the Arcana History professor rush in and eagerly sit down in the red velvet lounge chairs across from Astarion’s desk. You groan internally as you realize that you might be stuck here for an unbearably long time.

“Actually, Dr. Dekarios, I was on my way out,” Astarion says as he starts to stand before quickly reversing that decision. You realize with a smug sense of satisfaction that he’s still slightly aroused.

“Completely understand, I'll keep this brief, then. So, the other day, you and I spoke of the use of bardic magic and its position amongst playwrights in Renaissance England.”

“Yes, I recall,” Astarion responds through gritted teeth. He sinks back down in his chair,  resigned to sitting through this conversation.

“And how it was common practice at the time to use magic from the college of swords as decreed by Elizabeth? Ben Jonson, Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, they all used college of swords magic.” Dr. Dekarios’ voice increases in pitch with his excitement. You suppress a sigh, preparing yourself for a long wait in this cramped space. It’s not particularly comfortable, especially with trying to keep out of the way of Astarion’s long legs.

Although…

You might not have to keep out of the way. Maybe if you just… brushed your hand along his leg…

Astarion coughs to hide the sudden intake of breath your touch causes. He crosses his legs and you smile knowing it's to give himself a little reprieve. A feeling you know all too well.

“Yes,” Astarion says, his voice frustratingly steady, “I recall your enthusiasm in telling me this.”

You're trying to read his response. Is he into this? Is this a game he wants to play? You test your luck again, dragging your fingers up his thigh more deliberately. His leg quivers and he shifts his posture as the Arcana professor continues.

“Well, I had a thought. Consider this: Shakespeare brought about a major shift in how we think of the Western theatrical canon as it pertains to bard magic, correct?”

You scooch forward and press your tits into his knees that are now pinched tightly together. You slide your hands up his inner thighs, prying them apart slightly. You lean into his legs further as your hands continue their journey upward, squeezing as they get to the top of his thigh.

He kicks suddenly, a soft thump into the back of the desk. Is he telling you to stop? You pull back and glance up at him, the top of the desk obscuring most of his face. He's stiffly nodding along to Dekarios’ rambling.

“And remind me, what other major storytelling convention did Shakespeare also shift during this time?” You honestly can't tell if he’s actually asking, or giving Astarion a mini exam in his own specialty.

You wait for a response from him. He lets his thighs fall open and gently nudges your hip with the side of his shoe. No, his foot.

This mother fucker is playing footsie with you?

Oh he is definitely into your little game.

You push his legs open again, this time sliding your hands all the way up to his cock, and you feel it twitch beneath the wool of his pants. You gently stroke him and his hips give a subtle twist into you.

“I'm not sure–” Astarion begins, but stops short when his voice cracks. You nuzzle his bulge,  running your lips across it as it hardens. You slip a hand under him and give his balls a gentle squeeze. You can hear his breath stutter, but it's unlikely Dekarios can as he quickly answers his own question.

“The humors, correct? My understanding of non-magic literature isn't fully up to snuff, but I am correct in remembering this, yes?”

You lick a fat stripe across the fabric and you hear a metallic click above your head, like his watch just made sudden contact with the surface of the desk. You can imagine the veins in his hands bulging as he clasps them together tightly.

“Hm, no, ah yes, you are correct. Most English Renaissance playwrights understood characters as a balance or imbalance of the four humors.” Astarion manages to keep his voice relatively even, and you know you need to up your game. You reach up to undo his belt buckle as quietly and efficiently as possible. Luckily, you’re able to hide the noise within Dekarios’ exclamation.

“Yes! That's exactly what I was thinking! So, hear me out. What if these two shifts were related? In moving away from college of swords magic, Shakespeare felt less constrained by the four humors. Or perhaps the other way around?”

You reach into his pants and free his cock, now fully hard, and tease your fingers along his shaft. His hips buck a little more forcefully, as though controlling his movement is growing more difficult. You grip his pelvis tightly, holding it in place, and relishing the fact that you have the control for once. You flick the tip of your tongue across his slit and his hips twitch again under your hands.

“Could be…” is all Astarion can manage to reply. Hopefully at this point Dekarios is in a full-on oration and he won't need to contribute much, if at all.

You pop the head of his cock into your mouth, working the underside of it with your tongue. You clamp your arms down on his thighs, pulling them closer to you and pushing them into your tits. Your inner thighs grow damp as your own arousal quickens. You squirm as a miniscule moan works its way into your mouth. Not loud enough for anyone to hear, you hope, but you're certain that Astarion can feel the vibration because his hips jerk again. His torso and face above, or at least what you can see of it, gives little away.

“And this could even,” Dekarios continues, showing no sign of awareness of anything else happening in the room, “signal the shift into realism, could it not? Beginning with Shakespeare and culminating with Chekhov and Ibsen in the nineteenth century?”

You take in more of him, relaxing your tongue and letting him fill your mouth, discovering his taste. He almost lifts off his chair in his attempt to thrust into you, and you use it as a way to take him in deeper. Your jaw is beginning to ache with how slow you're going, but it's worth it to feel Astarion’s frustrated discomfort.

You can hear him take a slow breath before speaking again.

“You know who would absolutely love this discovery of yours?” His voice is low, smooth, as you bob your mouth on his cock. “Tav, the classical theatre professor. Her office is right down the hall.”

You choke and he deftly covers the sound of your gag with a cough.

“Bless you,” Dekarios says after a fraction of hesitation. He continues as though there was no interruption at all.

“Then I shall share my findings with her! Down the hall, you say?”

“Room 208.”

“Excellent!” Dekarios stands and you wrap your hand around the base of Astarion's shaft, letting some saliva dribble out of your mouth to lubricate it. You can hear the wizard quickly make his way out the door.

“Gale!” Astarion yelps as you twist your hand and swirl your tongue in tandem. He clears his throat and corrects his decorum. “Dr. Dekarios, the door, please.”

“Oh, of course! Apologies,” he says with slight chagrin, and then you hear the latch on the door click. Astarion rolls his chair back and grabs your hair, pulling you out from under the desk.

“You saucy little minx,” he growls and you stumble forward and into his lap, your lips crashing into his. He easily tears through your leggings and underwear, exposing your dripping cunt to the open air.

This man is wracking up quite the clothing bill.

He slides two fingers into you, roughly stretching you out and you groan into his ear. 

“You didn't seem to mind,” you manage to squeak out, repeating his words from earlier with significantly less dignity. You grind onto his fingers with his cock trapped between you, and your clit slides against his shaft. Another shuddering breath rockets through you as your whole body clenches around him.

He yanks his hand out of you and you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but you don't need to wait long for him to grab your waist and sink you down onto his cock. You can feel the skin toward your perineum tear slightly but the stinging pain is nothing compared to the delicious stretch that comes with him bottoming out. He shoves his fingers in your mouth and you arch your back into him, the taste of your own juices flooding your tongue.

He keeps his other hand firm on your lower back as he thrusts up into you. You cling onto his neck, pulling his mouth toward your breasts as they rise and fall with your stuttering breaths. He takes his hand away from your mouth and slides the hem of your dress all the way up to your chin. His lips latch on to your nipple poking through the soft cotton of your bra.

“Gods, fuck,” you groan as you continue to roll your hips into his, and he flicks his tongue against your tit. You push down even further onto him and pull the cup down, pushing your now bare breast into his teeth. His eyes flicker upward, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. You bounce harder on his cock and grip the back of his neck tightly.

“Fuck, please, bite me,” you whine, aching to feel every part of him in you. He doesn't need to be told twice and he sinks his fangs into the sensitive flesh around your nipple. You cry out but try to stifle the noise by pressing your open mouth into his hair. You can smell that citrusy fragrance he wears and your fingers claw into him.

He sucks your blood out from around your tit, and with every swallow he laps his tongue against you, over and over. You're certain his devil tongue will be your demise.

Your pace increases and it becomes harder to suppress your moans. You clamp your mouth shut and bury your face into his ear. He releases your breast and roughly kisses you to keep you quiet, the taste of iron filling your mouth.

You come with an explosive cry that gets swallowed into his kiss. As you're still riding the wave of your orgasm you can feel his, his hips rutting as his dick throbs with the pulse of his semen.

The two of you finally slow, the sticky mess between you squelching lewdly. You listen intently past the sound of your heavy breathing to try to hear any indication that someone overheard. When you deem it safe, you let out a sigh of relief that dissolves into giggles. He drops his forehead into your shoulder as the hem of your dress gets overtaken by gravity and slides down your front

You disentangle yourself from him, wincing slightly at the feeling of him sliding out of your sore pussy. You get a better look at him, your blood still smeared on his lips and chin, his now-flaccid dick slumped above his waistband. You're certain you can't look much better, dress rucked up around your waist, hair mussed and sticking every which way. 

You methodically put yourselves back together, Astarion stuffing his wet dick back into his pants, you straightening your dress and hair. You catch his gaze again and somehow he still manages to make you blush, his crimson eyes peering over his frames. He reaches out to tuck a wayward lock behind your ear.

“Maybe next time we’ll have sex in your office,” he chuckles. You swat his chest playfully only to find yourself drawn into him, not wanting to pull your hand away. It's strangely romantic, and if you were able to think clearly, his hands snaking around your waist might bother you. But your head is still spinning and your cunt is still throbbing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and little could upset you right now.

That is, until the doorknob turns and Dekarios pops his head back in.

“Looks like she’s not–” His voice dies off quickly when he realizes what he's walked in on. He coughs, mumbles an incoherent apology, and backs out quickly.

“I swear to the gods I'm getting a scroll of arcane lock for that damn door,” he growls under his breath, and you lean your forehead against his chest in deflated embarrassment.

[serena-babes]

Royal Knight Reader x Lucifer Morningstar + Charlie Morningstar

Part TWO!!

platonic! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

gender neutral!!

1.7k

Sorry for the long wait everybody! school really kicked my butt but I am back! and super excited to write! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

just wanna say rq that my requests are open! I will say though I can be a little picky but if you have something in mind I would love to hear it! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

“And so then I look over and this bitch is halfway down the street!” Angel gestured enthusiastically to the rest of the large table continuous chatter continues from everybody, especially for Lucifer and Charlie. It has been a while since this has happened. 

Dinner was, nice. Maybe not the nicest dinner, food-wise. But “family” dinners aren't very common when you're always on the move or working. Listening to the laughter and plates clinking y/n looks down at their plate. Shiny fork in hand, clean warm plate. It's been a while since it's been like this, everything is so clean and shiny, a semblance of normal in this hellhole.

Too long they realize more like a couple of thousand years long, back when Lucifer was Samuel. It feels like a millennium ago, hell, at this point, it could be a millennium ago. 

Heaven was a lot stricter back then, everyone was made for a purpose and whoever stepped out of line posed a threat. That was why Y/n was the perfect example. And the reason they were assigned to keep a certain someone in line.

“But, heavenly father you must understand I don't.. I'm not made to work on something… with all due respect. Frivolous and unimportant.” Y/n said sternly adverting their gaze from the man himself. But even with their protests, they were still whisked away to take care of the “problem child” 

Messy, is how Y/n would describe it. A workshop with haphazardly thrown-around tools, discarded projects, various writings, and plans. And the messiest part, the Man himself. 

“Samuel” he introduced himself reluctantly 

“I'm not happy with this arrangement either I hope you know that. I don't wish to be a babysitter, even though you're older than me.” Y/n deadpanned, Samuel not amused by this remark went to whatever he was working on. Looking over his shoulder observing his work, not quite sure whatever the hell he was working on.

Y/n whistled out a long note making Samuels eye twitch. “Whatcha.. Watcha working on..” Y/n clasped their hands in front of them. Friendly unprofessional conversation wasn't their forte. 

“I thought you said you didn't want to babysit” Samuel mocked you 

“Well yeah, but that doesn't mean we both have to be COMPLETLY miserable” y/n quipped back “Trust me this will feel a little more like a babysitting shift if I just stand here and watch you…so?”  Y/n gestured to the various mechanical and clay pieces Samuel was arranging. 

Now, not so reluctant. Samuel shows them, and that's how it all started. He would share almost everything with Y/n and soon Y/n couldn't see what was so horrible and troublesome about him. He was sharp and witty but also, a dreamer, a chaser, and stubborn. 

Everything was peaceful for a while, days spent with Lucifer, well Samuel. tinkering away or writing while Y/n trained or did whatever their heart desired. Days spent in the sun streaming through the wide windows of the laboratory some days all they would do was lie on the floor and talk

“So… why do you follow that code, what's it called again? Chivalry? “ Samuel asked laying straight on his back wings outstretched gazing at the laboratory ceiling.

“Yeah... Chivalry.” Y/n responded opting to stop training and laying down next to Samuel feeling their bones and soul decompress from the strenuous work. 

“I'll remember that,” Samuel said cheekily flicking Y/N's shoulder plyfully. 

“Well, I would hope you would I mean it's kinda my whole schtick” retorted Y/n.

“Why do you follow it anywho? I mean… in the end, what's stopping you from... I don't know, not?” He turned to watch Y/N's expressions. 

“You shouldn't... You shouldn't be questioning the heavenly father Sammie. It's dangerous.” Y/n looked over to Lucifer, sometimes Y/n worried his thinking was the thing that would kill him. 

“But, if you want to know, it's because I'm scared, I'm scared of what would happen if I chose something else. you know, what would happen to me. I'm too used to the security it provides.” y/n said honestly opting to look at the ceiling instead of straight at Lucifer. What Y/n didn't know was the saddened knowing expression Lucifer had on.

He was always the odd one out, believing more in himself than in the “higher being” that was his father. If only people could see the fear they had of the man was... Wrong. 

“Hm… I understand” 

“I think that's what I like about you, you're not afraid.” Y/n smiled, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a quick shake.

And that's how life was for a while, truly all rainbow and sunshine. 

Wasent until Lucifer started going to Eden. Slowly but surely changes in Samuels now Lucifer's demeanor changed. And Y/n couldn't keep up. 

“Sam- Lucifer. What. are. You. doing. You're going to get yourself killed.” Y/n pleaded. Grasping his shoulders hoping to shock him back to reality. But all he did was stare at the floor in silence.

“She's just a woman Lucifer .” Y/n took their hands off his shoulders and he started drifting.

“No, she's not..” Lucifer said meekly turning away from Y/n no longer wishing to feel their sharp gaze. 

“Oh? So what are you telling me? That this” Y/n gestured to all the papers heavens sent over giving him warnings. “THIS. was all worth it because you found the love of your life. and that this is the woman for you?” 

“I don't know… she could be.”Finally, Lucifer turned to face them. 

Silence enveloped the room 

“I just… Were both fucked. Things are changing, and I don't. I don't know what's gonna happen.” Y/n sat down on a nearby chair their head in their hands pulling and scratching at their scalp.

Lucifer moved silently across the room moving to observe Y/n. 

It was odd he thought, on the outside, they were the epitome of resilience, class, and discipline. If one of them would be the scared one it sure as hell wouldn't be Y/n. but seeing a strong being such as Y/n clam up. Made Lucifer see them better, no longer was Y/n their “noble babysitter” or another Angel following orders. They were someone who had such complexity as him. 

“Hey… whatever happens, we um.” he eyed the various papers demanding his meeting with his father.

“We will do it together, they always say new beginnings are good… right?” 

And so, off to the races they went. Building disdain in heaven for the “heavenly father” advocating for more rights, changing life on earth. Creating people and new creations. Letting all ingenuity seep out of heaven's angels and onto the earth below, Showering the planet in green. Lucifer and Lilith fall in love. New ideologies are building, and new tempting offers are being given to heaven-curious Angels. 

But, going up against an actual god. You're doomed for failure eventually.

Always an Angel, never a god. 

If you told Y/n thousands of years before that they would be kicked out of heaven with two lovers in toe they would call you mad. Crazy even. Why would you say something so ridiculous?

“Hey! Y/n you looked a little zoned out over there you okay?” Charlie turned to you and asked 

“Yeah! Everything is pretty great right now. I was just thinking.” Y/n got up from the table and went to help Charlie with collecting dishes 

“Oh really? About what?” Charlie said collecting various plates and cups 

“Oh, just about how, proud I am, and how good the hotel is.” Y/n smiles warmly putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder and shaking it a little. “Oh… oh Charlie... Okay, well don't cry! You know I'm not good with TEA-” Y/n said suddenly being engulfed in a bone-crushing hug and a waterfall of salty tears.

After some time, Vaggie has to take a spatula to separate you two. Charlie's tears ceased, and now you three were lounging on the couch. Very reminiscent of what Y/n and Lucifer would do in their youth… They are so scarily similar sometimes, if Y/n squinted they swore they saw Lucifer. 

“When I was a kid I used to be like… SUPER scared of you for a little bit.” Charlie said smiling slightly and laughing to herself 

“Really-”

“Yes.” Charlie and Vaggie both said cutting Y/N's words off. But all Y/n can do is laugh. 

 “Am I that intimidating? Me? I haven't won a single game of Hellopoly in my life, or uno… or I guess any card or board game. I don't see how that's intimidating.” 

“You'd be surprised” Charlie quipped back a small smile gracing her features. 

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments the only sound in the room being the ticking grandfather clock which Charlie eyed suspiciously.

“Hey.. so crazy idea, haha! But. I don't know, I mean you can say no! Of course! But I was just kinda wondering if you would… like to stay at the hotel? I mean protection isn't a bad thing. And it wouldn't interfere with like your actual job… but I don't know I feel like you feel better here, and I know dad feels better when you're here too.” 

Y/n listened to Charlie go on silencing her with her hand 

“That sounds great Charlie,” Y/n said softly getting up to put their now empty glass of wine away. 

As Y/n enters the kitchen, all they see is Lucifer's pajama-clad form rummaging around in the fridge. 

“Now what, are you up to? Didn't we eat like hmm..” Y/n puts their hand up to their chin mocking a thinking pose “like an hour ago?” they quip as they move to wash their empty wine glass. 

“Haha!” lucifer says sarcastically pulling something out to eat.

Soft chatter filters between the two, the kitchen light pretty dark the only luminary being the fridge and the oven light.

“So… guess who is the newest resident,” Y/n said staring expectantly at Lucifer

And they swear they have never seen such a bright smile grace his face.  

[letsgobarbs]

I'm the greediest bitch when it comes to WIPs so....

First things first do tell me more about the next Chapter of Homecoming because I'm actually missing Maryam and Dave so much and I need to know how he gets those cameras in her house!

Also...

Sari In A Bar... This is the Javier Peña one yes? Yes? With the bathroom fucking? If so, more information at your earliest convenience please and thank you and I'm being absolutely normal about this one I swear, this is not at all my reaction rn:

LOVE YOU ❤️💕❤️💕

O-EM-GEE how did you know i was writing the scene where he gets the cameras in her house??? lemme give you just a teeny tiny snippet:

It was far too easy. The lock didn't put up a struggle, he hadn't expected it to. The chain on the door wasn't attached because neither of them were home. He frowned at the security alarm, the steady beeping completely stopped under his fingers. The code was her birth year— probably chosen because it would be easy enough for them both to remember. He'd need to teach her more about how to secure her house. So it wouldn't let people like him in.

...

He was always careful with his work. But he knew this was different— this place was sacred, somewhere he had only looked in from outside.

Dave should have approached this with the precision of a soldier completing a mission. Because that's what this was— recon, a way to gather information on how to best lure Maryam right where he wanted her. Feelings were never good for the outcome of any mission but they lingered anyway, simmering under his skin— thrill, joy, and some stupid semblance of hope. He needed to get rid of that last one.

He placed every camera and audio device like someone might decorate a temple— a devout worshipper in pursuit of some higher power.

Of course, this isn't the final draft, might need him to linger a little over her things.

But you know me, I need my plans and plots charted out!! And you won't believe it but I discovered the most outrageous plot hole in my own initial planning 😭😭😭 so now i gotta rework that final, main conflict of theirs.

Sari in a Bar is def the Javier Peña one based on that moodboard 🤭 but I haven't added anything to it since I shared the snippet. Howerever 👀 I've got ideas... and it's gonna be longer because she takes him home after too.

He's like we're gonna do this here? And she's like I don't follow strange men to their home... I'd take you to my place, but what if it's not worth all that fuss. And he proves to her that it's worth all that fuss and then some 😏

BUT YOU KNOW I'M GONNA BE SHARING MORE DETAILS IN YOUR MESSAGES HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

LOVE YOU BABY 💞💞💞💞

[novabun-ships]

No read more but its not sunshine and flowery words fyi. Talking about struggles and venting my frustration if that bothers you just don't read it... I don't expect anyone to anyways.

●

As you know I have an incredibly difficult and tense filled day ahead, the days leading up to today have been incredibly hard and I unfortunately had a mental break and spent some time in hospital. A conglomerate of things happened and I just couldn't handle it and I snapped quite literally. I have appointments lined up for the psychiatric side of things, not sure what that's going to entail but its terrifying.

As for what happened for court. It feels tiresome. I got a call this morning from VS stating they never made a zoomlink meeting and now she is trying desperately to get one because we've stated multiple times my daughter understandably does not want to be within 2 mile radius of those two monsters. She's off for March break and I can't go in person out of respect for my daughters feelings and the plan was they were going to give me a zoomlink so I could at least listen in and attend virtually....still going to wait.. the latest she said was 1:00pm to get a link. I hope she can make it happen.. thankfully I do have some family who is attending in person so at least they can fill me in if I cannot go in virtually.

I haven't slept all night...I'm drained mentally and physically, I am drained. These next 6 hours...I don't know whats going to happen or what I'm going to do if justice fails. The stress is ....a lot and I'm tired of having to walk outside with my head on a swivel because of some violent girl openly threatening me and my family— I'm tired of the lack of sleep over terrifying and stomach turning intrusive thoughts— I'm tired that this has now taken four years of our lives.

I'm tired of always being triggered into an episode and put into dangerous situations for myself. Either reckless behavior or attempts on my own life. This has triggered a massive episode (see above) and it scared me so much...that my brain throws rationality out, that I can be so easily swayed to just end everything.

If I've said or done anything that put my friendship in jeopardy, or made anyone think less of me I'm sorry. I'm going through so much right now and I feel like I'm suffocating and struggling alone.

Still not active. I just can't find the will to be here right now. Can't find the will for anything right now. I may or may not poke back in to at the very least check messages but anything I'm tagged in will not be acknowledged until I feel a semblance of normalcy and peace. I don't have the energy to be positive right now. So I'm sorry for that but I'm dealing with some pretty awful shit.

[cozywithanna]

Comforts I Forgot I Needed

Dear cozy readers, This week, my body slowed me way down, and not necessarily by choice. Lower back pain (the kind that makes you want to nap just for some semblance of relief) kept me indoors, mostly horizontal, and very still. And strangely, through all the discomfort, I found myself revisiting long-lost sources of comfort: things I’ve loved for years but haven’t spent time with in a while. 📖 Soft Reading: The Little Frog’s Guide to Self-Care by Maybell Eequay I’ve followed Maybell for years and her goblincore awkward frog energy has always been a bright spot on my Instagram feed. But I only recently purchased her book after spotting it in nearly every independent bookstore I’ve visited over the years. The little book is whimsical, weird, wise, and exactly the kind of thing you keep next to your bed to remind you that being soft and silly is a radical act of self-care. 🪡 Mindful Pastimes: Embroidery Embroidery was one of the first hobbies I picked up after college that felt truly mine. I went from being scared of sewing needles (really) to learning the basics, joining an embroidery club, and eventually setting the hobby aside for others. And now, years later, I'm picking it back up with a new purpose: my little niece. I’m planning to embroider a giraffe design on a T-shirt for her, full of auntie love. I’m hoping to recapture the peaceful joy of stitching and pair it with my love of gift giving from the heart. 📱 Wholesome Scrolling: Pinterest I usually share specific artists I find on Instagram here, but this week, I have to give some credit to Pinterest as a site. Most social media platforms are a mixed bag, where even a carefully curated feed will show you a horrifying headline or an unsettling lack of empathy for others when you’re not in a headspace to deal with the real world. Pinterest is my peaceful little corner of the internet where I can disconnect-by-not-disconnecting and daydream about future travels, home renovations, and new recipes to try. Pinterest, thank you for doing your job well. (Now, can we talk about those relentless ads…?) 📺 Calm Viewing: PBS Passport You might’ve heard that the current U.S. administration has proposed defunding PBS. If that makes your blood boil (like mine as a former PBS kid), consider donating to your local public media station. In return, you’ll get access to PBS Passport: a streaming library full of comfort shows such as slow period dramas, cozy cooking series, and gentle travel documentaries. It's good for the brain, and a quiet way to resist. 🌮 Simple Bites: Fast Food (Yes, Really) I usually share recipes I’ve tried recently here but with my back pain, I had other priorities this week. I rarely eat fast food, partly for health reasons, partly for gut caution. But after a doctor’s appointment this week, I thought: “What the hell, I’m going to Taco Bell!” And those Doritos shell tacos were an incredible treat. I still have to be cautious with eating this stuff too often, but it reminded me that fast food can still be comforting—and might not even make me feel awful all the time! 💡 Comfort Finds: Soft and Warm Light Bulbs I’ve always appreciated hygge living concepts and have tried to integrate them into my lifestyle, social life, and home. Lighting, however, has always been an afterthought for me...until now. I recently noticed how much harsh light affects my mood, eyesight, and headache frequency. So I fell down a rabbit hole of studying lumens, wattage, color temperature, emerging with a new commitment to soft bulbs throughout the house. Warm light, warm life. 💭 Warm thoughts: “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” — Anne Lamott Thanks for being here. I hope you find your way back to something comforting this week, even if it’s small, silly, or long-forgotten. Take care, Anna 🌿 P.S. I'm starting to post these + some other notes on my Substack! I'm just trying the platform out since I read so many insightful articles there, but if you're on the site, feel free to subscribe here!

[pizzafishandchips]

6. "I'm not giving up"

Fandom - Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem/7KPP (fanfic) Content warnings - none Pairing - Clarmont x MC Other notes - spoilers for endgame/final week

Octavia feels the beginning thrum of a headache pulsing within her temples.

The room is tense and alight with a cacophony of sharp voices shouting back and forth. It’s the fourth day of negotiations, and she’s almost astonished that so many still have enough energy to argue this hard. For her, she’s been feeling the creeping effects of burnout for days at this point. The end is in sight, yet it still feels so far.

She thought international tensions would be the worst of it, but she was soundly taken aback by how truly frayed intranational relations within Revaire were. She supposes she should have expected it, given how well she knows half the Revaire delegation. Perhaps another sign of how unaware of the world she really was before coming to the isle.

And to anyone who knew of that version of her before, they might be surprised at how hard she’s been fighting during negotiations. Even Octavia herself is a little surprised; before, she cared little for matters outside the borders of her homeland, hell, even matters outside her immediate household rarely interested her.

Now here she is, fighting for peace for people who were complete strangers to her seven weeks ago. In the past, she would have deemed herself mad for the effort.

With a concerted effort, she’s able to bring the room to some semblance of civility, the barebones foundation needed for anything to get done. Yet that alone took enough time that servants have already called for a short reprieve, bringing quiet sighs of relief from everyone. With her head thoroughly pounding at this point, Octavia gathers what little wits she has remaining to skulk away, grab some refreshments, and find a secluded area to enjoy some quiet.

In spite of how weary she feels, her scholar’s mind is never idle for long. She can’t help it; she instinctively analyzes what’s happened so far, reviews what she knows, evaluates and plans possibilities and contingencies moving forward. All the while being acutely aware of the nervous fear should she fail at this particular endeavor.

Negotiating peace for Jiyel felt easy in comparison, or at least less burdensome. It makes sense, to want to protect her homeland, where all the people she knew before lived. It helped that Arland and Jiyel were never outright at the cusp of war like some of the other kingdoms; the potential was still there, but just distant enough that the pressure felt lighter. By comparison, her dogged investment into Revaire borders on the illogical.

At least, an Octavia from a year ago would have judged it so. The Octavia that sits here, under the sunshine beaming down on this mysterious isle, knows better.

She won’t pretend she’s some valiant, righteous hero bursting from the shadows to right the world and its injustices. She doesn’t deign herself as some icon or symbol to rally behind—no, if there’s one thing about her that hasn’t changed since the start of the summit, it’s her practicality. She doesn’t have it in her to fight for the faceless masses, to carry burdens for strangers she frankly feels little connection to.

No, that role is left for someone better and kinder than her. And that particular someone is the one whom she’ll fight tooth and nail for.

Speak of the devil, she hears footsteps nearby, and a familiar figure steps into view. Clarmont comes bearing more refreshments, wearing that tender smile that she would give anything to protect. The sight alone is enough to energize her just a little more.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he greets. Without any prompting he clears away her already empty plate and cup, refilling them with all the things she likes.

“When it’s you? Never.” She eagerly pats a seat next to her which he happily takes, and Octavia automatically shuffles closer so they touch, and she can feel his warmth radiating from his skin to hers. “It helps that you come bearing my favorite things.”

He laughs, a light, affectionate sound that sends something aflutter within her stomach. “I will endeavor to remember that going forward, then.” He leans in, and she can tell he wants to wrap an arm around her, stopping just short if only because of their proximity to the other delegates in spite of their seclusion. She playfully nudges his shoulder with hers.

“If it makes things easier, I can give you an itemized list.”

“Well, one would hope I could remember the things my intended likes most without one. I’d be a sorry excuse of a spouse otherwise, wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think you could be a sorry excuse of a husband if you tried,” she states matter-of-factly, as if there’s little else she’s surer of in the world. Clarmont’s smile grows wider but says nothing, allowing her some peace as she eats. It’s easy enough to tell she needs it; he’d seen that look on her face once before, that expression of steely resolve and grit that showed she was absolutely determined to see the job done right. It’s a thing of beauty to behold, and he’s never been prouder and more in awe, but he remembers how draining the effort had been. He hates how he can’t take more on more of the burden for her, hates how she’s been pushed so hard to fight for a nation that isn’t even her own, but he’s learned not to make the same mistake. Lady Octavia is not one to be handled delicately nor underestimated, especially when she’s proven to be a central figure at the summit after these seven weeks.

He’s given her all the information he has and intends to fight just as hard. All he can do is support her as best he can. “I seem to recall you saying before that you didn’t believe in heroes. You don’t seem to be doing a good job of defending that belief,” he jokes.

“I’m not a hero,” Octavia complains. “Let’s be honest here, Clarmont, out of the two of us you are clearly the better half.”

“I think you undervalue yourself, my lady.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not fighting for some ideal of right or wrong, or for the sake of a group of people whom I frankly don’t even know. They’re just a statistic to me. Hardly the values of a hero.”

Clarmont furrows his brow. “Then what is it that you’re doing all this for?”

“You, of course. It’s all for you.”

He wonders how she can say such things so easily, as if she’s talking about what she wants to get from the market or what the weather is like. Octavia doesn’t even seem to regard his speechlessness as she finishes the last of her tea. “So I have to keep at it. I’m not giving up, not until I can give you a place where you can finally rest.”

She polishes off the last of her meal, as fueled as she can be for the bouts ahead. When she looks toward him, her head tilts to the side, questioning. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

He eventually comes back to himself, and—possible audience be damned—Clarmont leans in and plants a fierce kiss on her lips. She squeaks, caught off guard, her cheeks pink when he pulls away.

“What was that for?”

Unable to resist, he leans in again, this time his lips gently brushing her cheek. “For good luck.”

Flustered, she shakes her head and rises from her seat. “I-I don’t need luck. Not… Not like that anyway! Save those for when the job is done, otherwise I won’t be able to c-concentrate.”

He laughs, rising with her. They make their way back to where the other delegates are, refreshed as they can be for another round of negotiations. While Clarmont still worries, it’s tempered by his lady’s resolve and her heart. Whatever comes, he believes she will persevere. They both will, together.

[pbandjesse]

I am tired. It was a nice day but I just feel exhausted. James keeps telling me that it's okay. That I'm allowed because I'm growing a person. But it doesn't make me feel better. I just feel bad because I can't do anything.

I didn't sleep great. My nose was bleeding and scabby again. I just couldn't breathe and it just wasn't comfortable.

I would get waken up by a piece of machinery outside. I think it's like a cherry picker. But whatever it is it was loud and blinking and clanking. James would come upstairs. They said that they figured that would wake me up. And I was happy to see them. We laid in bed together for a little bit. But soon I got up and went to get ready for the day.

I was trying very hard to feel alright. I didn't have much energy but I was trying. I wore my favorite jumpsuit. And my golden record necklace. I was doing okay.

James brought me cereal and I would hang out in bed. We had a semblance of a plan for the day. To get lunch at a diner, to go to the garden center to get Christmas ornaments (something we do after James's birthday every year), and then go to my rhumatologist appointment.

I wasn't entirely sure when we should leave to accomplish all of that. James decided we should leave at 11. Sounded good to me. So I spent some time hanging out in our room. I painted my toes. Hung out with sweetp. And eventually James came to get me so we could go.

It was nice outside. We started with jackets but took them off pretty fast.

We went towards the garden center and went to a pretty classic chrome diner. James got a patty melt, I got a grilled cheese. I was in a better mood once I had some caffeine. And I was just enjoying talking to James. I made them laugh at one point so hard and it was such a good feeling.

The food was good but we brought most of the fries home. I enjoyed my sandwich but I really have to take my time eating. My stomach just hurts so quickly. It isnt fun. James tried to be encouraging, tells me it's okay, but I also just feel like I have to work through it. Even if it's hard and makes me not feel good. It's like resting my new limits.

We went to the garden center next. And they weren't all the way set up for Christmas yet, they didn't have their trees outside. But the inside was beautiful. It always is. So many lights. I love walking around and seeing the silly themed ornaments. There were plenty that I liked a lot. I also just really loved watching James looking at the tiny Christmas villages. They always love those, it's like a train set without the train. Later I would encourage them to put one together in our bedroom on the dresser. I hope they do. It would be so nice.

We would get three ornaments. One is actually on a stick, and you stuck it in the tree instead of hanging it. That one is a reindeer. I also got a giraffes. I love the brissle animals. And now we have 4. Last year we got an otter and a squirrel.

James wanted to get one to represent our baby. We have been leaning on tree imagery for her but we wouldn't find any good non evergreen trees ornaments. So instead we would get a beautiful bowl of cherries. Which was stupid expensive but super nice. It was a good pick.

We looked at the artificial trees next. We have one saved on Amazon but I wanted to buy one in person if we could. But that would not be in happen at this store. The trees ranged from $600 to $2500!! It was insane! Like yes they were nice but not seriously nicer then what I've seen at Home Depot. It was seriously wild. James was having me try and guess the prices and it was truly shocking. Especially when they had signs on them about only having one or two left of a certain model.

So we will probably just order one online.

We didn't time the day well enough to go directly from the garden center to my appointment. So we would go home for a while. Which was good. I was feeling dehydrated and super tired all of a sudden. Being in the car made me not feel great. And I was really happy to be back here.

I laid on the couch for a while. James went to bike around the park for a half hour. And I enjoyed having the back door open. The air felt good.

James got back and I would go upstairs for a little. And soon it was time to go again.

We got to my appointment and I have to say it was a weird time.

I got up to the office. Chatted with the desk girls and another woman in the waiting room. I wasn't taken back for 20 minutes. And weirdly they had me go to the infusion room. Strange. Then a medical assistant never came to speak to me. So no assessment. Weird. The woman who did my injections was the daughter of the main woman who does them, and she was nice but I had to ask her to weigh me and do my blood pressure. Everything felt like it was off today. Like everyone was super nice but it was just a weird time.

The injection went alright, though I felt like it was sitting on the surface under my skin and not actually in the muscle. At least it didn't bleed like crazy.

I did get blood taken though. The phelbotomist was very chatty and nice today and she used a butterfly needle which doesn't bruise as much so that was nice. And soon I had my new appointments set and I was off.

James has gone to the grocery store but was mostly just waiting for me in the car. We discussed dinner. They wanted to make roasted broccoli and smashed potatoes. Plus a protein for each of us. Sounded great to me.

I was mostly just really thirsty though. The drive home was kind of hard. Traffic, plus just a lot of turns. Made me not feel great. But I was very happy to be home.

I made an at home pink drink and came upstairs. James would play some of their video game before making dinner. And when they were done cooking we ate in our bedroom and just had a nice quiet evening.

I would take a bath. Sweetp was in a very playful mood and we were running and chasing up and down the hall. And they kept coming to the bathtub and licking my shoulder. Silly boy.

Now I am back in bed. James is researching sports statistics. And soon we will get ready to sleep.

James has work tomorrow. And I'm hoping to do studio stuff. But there isn't a huge plan for the day. Though there is a rocket launch Id like to try and see if possible. But it's not a huge deal of we can't. Light pollution downtown can prevent that for sure.

I hope you all have a great day tomorrow. Sleep well. Goodnight everyone!

[odysseygame]

Loving the characters and dynamic. I'm curious to know what Fumihito and MC's relationship was like before cheating. Like was Fumihito getting bored of MC because they were basic in the relationship or was MC neglectful in a certain aspect of their relationship or is just a power move on Fumihito's part?

Hope you don't mind if I answer this with a short story to give you more info about MC's and Fumihito's past!

---

Word count 1.3k 

Trigger warnings: Verbal abuse, obsessive tendencies, Manipulation

The Ex

Before you and Fumihito were even a couple, you were the best of friends. Meeting in kindergarten and growing up together, it would be expected that you knew everything about each other. Fumi wasn't always a raging sociopath, though. When you first met him, he was a shy boy who refused to leave your side because many of the kids in your class found him too gloomy to hang around. His perky persona was not the one he'd originally subscribed to.

It was only during your high school debut that he changed his tune.

You wanted to improve your image and become more social so that your last years of general education wouldn't feel like a total bust. Everything from your hair, clothing, and personality seemed to change over the span of a summer. And the results were astounding. Many people took notice of you, and in what seemed like a blink of an eye, your social life blossomed. New friends, extracurricular activities, and even potential love interests all seemed to come out of the woodwork.

That was something Fumihito couldn't handle. With your newfound lifestyle, it seemed as though it was a matter of time before you'd forget about your friendship. Fumi doesn't remember when he came to "love" you, but he recognized he was in love when you made this change.

I use the word love loosely here because Fumi mainly sees you as a thing to own. He's more like a bratty child whose favorite toy is being played with by others. He can't stand the fact that your time is being divided amongst people who aren't him. So, to keep up with your new lifestyle, he changed his own as well. His dark brown hair soon became bleached blonde. His clothing went from raggedy yet comfortable to chic and well-fitting. Even his once reserved tone of voice took on a cheeky yet comforting tone.

Thanks to his own change, he was able to work up the courage to go from best friends to lovers.

Before he became a scumbag boyfriend, he was one of the kindest men you'd had in your life. He'd wait for you after school let out and walk you to your next destination. He'd even have dates planned for every day that he could. In fact, the only reason he'd actually leave you alone was if you told him you had something private planned with your parents (and even then he'd find a way to join you).

Toward the end of high school, you were beginning to be fed up with the constant hounding. The only reason you hadn't broken up was because your friends were so intertwined with Fumi's. A breakup would just lead to unnecessary high school drama.

The first time Fumi purposefully and knowingly manipulated you was when you received a letter from your first-choice college giving you a rejection. When you read the letter, Fumi was in your room with you, watching intently as your face dropped and your eyes began to water.

As you cried into his arms, he couldn't help but feel some semblance of victory. For the first time in a while, he felt as though the two of you were in your own little world. With you relying heavily on him to make you feel better, he got to have your undivided attention through your own actions. For weeks you stayed by his side and talked less to the friends you'd made so far. Too overwhelmed and sad for extensive social interaction.

At this point, he'd gotten it into his head that the best way to keep you by his side was to destroy your self-worth. Even after you got out of your funk, Fumihito was there to break you back down again. Your college life was less than fun with him there to make you miserable at every turn.

"Your grades aren't looking too good. Are you sure you can handle those scholarship requirements?"

"Wow, she's pretty. Don't you wish you had that kind of face?"

"Have you seen your parents' social media posts? They look like they're having the time of their lives now that the nest is empty!"

"You're going to the party wearing that? Babe, I say this because I love you, but do you think that outfit is right for you?"

Your mental health took a turn as well as your social life. Only one of your friends really stuck around (she wasn't frightened off by Fumi), but that didn't do much to motivate you to leave Fumihito's side. You noticed early on that staying by his side resulted in less negging from his end.

At a certain point, it would be obvious that leaving the relationship would be your best bet. But the thought of leaving Fumi left your stomach in knots. Especially since you'd known him for so long. The kind shy boy you once knew was gone, but the hope that he'd revert to how he once was is too great. So you took his abuse. You dealt with walking on eggshells around him. You dealt with his incessant digs at you as a person. You dealt with the stranger who you once thought was the best person in the world.

Though you could keep sane with this lifestyle for only so long. When a friend of yours asked if you'd be down to meet up for a simple night in at their place, you all but jumped at the idea of interacting with someone other than your boyfriend. Your friend even placated some of your worries by explaining that this was just quality time. Fumihito shouldn't be annoyed with you doing this. After all, you'd been putting up with his demands and he should at least show you some leniency with this.

You expected the dozens of calls and messages that flooded your phone. Even going as far as to reassure him in the beginning that you'd be home right after.

"No, you need to be home when I get there. I swear to God, you do not want to test me. You have no clue what your friend could be doing. She's trying to separate us. She's been painting me like the bad guy since the beginning. Do you really want to be around someone who talks trash about your boyfriend?"

There's a chance one more push would have gotten you to get off the bus you were on. And there was one more push. Just in the opposite direction.

"You can't follow simple directions, can you? I'm trying to prevent you from doing stupid shit, and here you are doing the opposite of what's best for you. If you're not home by the time I get back, there will be consequences."

With that, you hung up.

Who was he to tell you who you could and could not hang out with? After all that he's done to you, you deserve a respite from him. After turning off your phone to block out his possessiveness, you made your way to your friend's apartment.

It was a nice night, too. Filled with venting your emotions, great snacks, and just getting to relax for the first time in a while. It was a great brain reset, allowing you to put up with Fumihito's behavior for just a little longer.

Well, you would have, had it not been for what you walked in on at your own apartment.

The days that passed after D-day were filled with nothing but rage and blocks of texts... both coming from Fumi's end.

"I warned you there'd be consequences."

"I needed you here and you weren't."

"You can't blame me for this."

"When are you coming home?"

"We need to talk."

"Baby, I'm sorry."

"Let's forgive each other and move on."

"Come home."

"She means nothing to me."

"You're my whole world."

"Come home."

"Stop ignoring me."

"Come home."

"Please stop acting like a bitch so we can talk."

"Come back."

"I swear things will be better."

"Get your ass back here."

➡️ [Game Start]

[endogenicredstararchive]

Pondering Things 4: Everything is Changing

Hello, everyone! I hope you all have had a lovely day so far and, if you are just now going to bed, I hope you have a lovely night!

Everything changes. It's part of the ebb and flow of life. Buildings fall, people come and go, and beliefs shift. And the only thing that remains consistent is the pain that change can bring. And nothing makes that more apparent than when a long time neighbor decides to move away. For the past several months, and elderly couple that lives next door has been trying to sell their house. They were planning to stay there for the remainder of their twilight years, but, due to unforeseen medical circumstances, they have to leave. I personally never knew them, but it still hurts nonetheless. Especially considering the issues that they're dealing with. My heart goes out to them.

Anyway, they've been trying to sell their house for the past several months, and have had no luck thus far. However, just today, a young couple bought the house. My mom says that they've pulled up the sign out in the yard. So, I imagine the new couple will be moving in soon. Perhaps I should go and greet them on the day they move in. Or, maybe I should watch from afar, as I'm content to do. I'll decide that when the day comes.

As for myself, I'm sitting out here, in the late afternoon sun, bracing against the cold breeze. Even though I detest the cold, I've come out here to make sure I write something for you all. And that's exactly what I'm doing right now. I'm staring down the driveway, watching the house across the street. Wondering what it would be like to live elsewhere. I've lived in this cul-de-sac all my life, and honestly, all that leaves is a bitter taste in my mouth. I'm not the type of person that enjoys suburban noise. Nor am I the type to enjoy loud, screaming toddlers. And unfortunately, this place has both of those. Sometimes, I wish I could just leave my way down the driveway and make my way down i-95 and stake a claim somewhere else. Alas, due to physical disability, I can't. I have no choice but to live here with my parents until they pass away.

Still, I try to make the best of my less than stellar situation. I have to love this neighborhood, despite it's flaws because I'll be stuck here for the rest of my days.

Everything changes around me, and I feel as though I've stayed the same. I'm a stone in the ever flowing river of time. Immovable, but slowly eroding away. I either have to move, or remain still. The sad thing is, I don't know which one I should do. Should I move, and risk causing trouble for my family, or do I stay put, and stagnate? There are other places I want to see, and people I would love to meet, but in wanting that I feel that I'm burdensome to my family. Am I selfish for wanting to leave this place?

Ah, I think I've gone all long enough. I hope that, in some way this brought you some semblance of joy, or perhaps some food for thought. I'll try to write again soon! Thank you all so very much for reading!

[ajokeformur-ray]

replying to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/ajokeformur-ray/785419387017576448/i-always-get-mildly-depressed-when-i-finish-uni

this is gonna be long so brace up lol

where i live/go to college we count uni terms by semesters, not years, and i always get a bit off when a semester is over

I’m autistic, and i know part of it is changing the routine, so that can feel like something is physically wrong when i’m leaving college earlier than i’m “supposed to” (my classes end one at a time and i live in the same city as my college, so that affects it), not so much not having to leave the house at all, that’s usually hard for me though, so yeah

part of it is exhaustion/burnout after being exhausted during the semester, and also the lack of sleep catching up

part is not really knowing what to do now that i don’t have a routine

part is having gotten used to seeing my classmates and teachers every day/week and worrying about how things will be next term

usually i’m exhausted, so rest takes priority, maybe i stay home a lot, maybe i go to a nearby park to look at the lake and the birds, it depends on what i can do and how i’m feeling (usually i find it easier to go to the park if i’m already out, eases the whole finding it hard to leave the house thing)

i also usually have a lot to do in the sense of catching up with responsibilities that i couldn’t do during classes, like take the car to revision or go to doctor checkups, so i try to do that too, after i’ve rested a bit if possible, but it isn’t always that there is enough time

i have a couple of art/craft projects that i want to do and that also helps me rest, and since i don’t usually have a lot of time and energy during the semester i’m at least a bit excited to work on them

last year i really wanted to go rollerblading during my mid year break, but i hyperfixated in a sewing project and ended up not going once lol

the year before that i was busy with driving lessons in the mid year break

i often make plans with friends, like watching movies together or going to the zoo or a cafe, since we all get more free time during our college break

so yeah, i think if there’s some semblance of an outline in how i deal with college terms ending it’s rest; take care of tasks that i couldn’t do before; work on fun projects; try to maintain some structure, at least when it comes to regular outings (like going out for lunch a couple times a week); maintain connection with people i care about, even if it’s hard and i don’t necessarily want to do it beforehand (again, it’s hard to go out and socialize, but it usually gets fun once i’m actually out there with people i care about (not always, life isn’t perfect and bad days happen lol), so it helps); maybe other things but these are what i can think of right now

i hope this helps at least a bit! i’m not sure how relevant these things will be for you, but these are some things that help me with adjusting to changes at the end of college terms

have a good day!

Hey nonnie!!!💞

It's comforting to know I'm not the only one who struggles to adjust when the semester/year finishes. I'm slowly starting to come around to it, but it's so easy to go 'oh I'll clean X or sort out X so I'm not gaming/writing all day'... I struggle to let myself enjoy things, especially if I know there's stuff that 'needs' doing.

Adjusting to a new routine is quite disorientating, especially when classes are finishing or there's less to do than what you're used to. That's how I've been feeling; exhaustion, burnout, coming down from eight months of constant stress and sleep deprivation, not knowing what to do outside of uni, worrying about the next year... there's just so much to think about and consider and without the anchor that uni gives me, I always come away from a year feeling lost and 'out of it'.

Finding it hard to leave the house is so relatable!! If I don't have to go out, I won't. Going out to a park when you're already out is a really good idea; the fresh air is good for you and so is seeing all the birdies and the lake. It sounds quite scenic where you are in the world! Do you take bird feed with you for the birdies?

Catching up on responsibilities you couldn't do because of class can be overwhelming in its own right as well, it always seems like there's so much to do and by the time you're done, it's almost time to go back to uni so you don't really get to catch up on sleep or rest before it's go time again? Just a constant grind.

Rollerblading is fun!!! I almost lost a finger the last time I tried to rollerblade; luckily it got fixed at hospital and reattached, but I digress. What was the sewing project? I'd love to see if you're happy to share!👀💞

You have a really good way of dealing with college semesters ending; keeping the 'uni gap' filled with responsibilities, fun and socialising is a good way to pass the time and heal the soul a little bit before going back! I've been trying to keep my sleep schedule as stable as possible [not including when I do night shifts; I've only done 1 so far but with five co-workers quitting within the next month, one of which was a night shift worker, I'm sure I'll be doing them more regularly] and trying to eat a bit better than I have been the last few weeks with everything going on.

Thank you so much for all of the advice and for taking the time to write me such a long message; I truly appreciate you and this!! I need to figure out what else to do other than gaming, writing, cleaning, and working, because if I'm not careful, I will just work my summer away at my job and go back to uni exhausted. That's what usually ends up happening because if I have no social plans, I'll just keep picking up shifts at work. Why is it that the things mostly good for the bank account aren't good for the soul, and vice versa?

Thank you so much, nonnie!!! I hope you have a good day, too!🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂💞

[inscrutable-shadow]

69 votes haha nice

thought i might as well tell you which one is which, eh? reverse sorted for the lulz, bonus some sneeps

Beach Feelings Time Part 2 - a second chapter of take my hand on the shore of my suffering in which thanatos actually talks about his trauma for once. the lack of interest will not stop me from writing it most likely

There's a Harpy in my Garage (And She's Hot) - Ivy & Jean, wlw urban fantasy romance that remains stubbornly unpublished and mostly unwritten. will i finish it? maybe. probably not. ivy doesn't talk to me the way she used to but i still love her <3

Therapist Somehow Still Manages to have an Attitude After Weeks of Starvation - Trials of Thanatos. my plans for chapter 3 fell through so i just kinda have to figure out where i'm going again. i've been really wanting to write it lately so we'll see

Arranged Marriage Fiance Actually Kinda Hot - prized possession au, in particular Chosen to be His Trinket? My Life as the Prince's Prized Possession which is unpublished. i write this when i feel like it and lately anchors has been taking up a lot of space but i've been vibing with it again the last couple of days. have a thingy.

His father was silent for a while before he spoke again. "It's a request for your hand in marriage." "Oh." Thanatos was nineteen now, and the other lords smelled blood in the water. It was well known that the son of House Iuventae was a bookish, timid lad only barely fit to rule, and he'd already had offers, usually accompanied by visits and gifts, from many with ambitious daughters ready to rule through him. He didn't begrudge the practice. If anything, he hoped that his sister Della would find a husband like that, she had much more of a head for politics than he. It was just that the idea of marriage filled him with such concentrated, unadulterated dread he thought he might dissolve into a pool of bituminous slime.

If You Feed a Vamp Your Magic - the next segment in the anchors series, we've a lot of starving faithful. it is. nsfw. than has a monumental, delusional crush and doesn't know what to do about it. there is blood drinking. there is oral. it's got it all. idk what to tell you.

It wasn't as if he'd really been getting any in the latter part of the war when being recognized had been a death sentence. Months when he touched nothing but door handles and dirty floors, years when the only skin contact he got left bruises. Spending nights crammed into coat closets, holding his own face in his hands just for some fleeting facsimile of comfort, how pathetic. It was no wonder that the instant he was treated with some semblance of human decency that his hormones and neurotransmitters went wild. It meant nothing. It would all go away in time.

Death Game? What Could Go Wrong? - An Umbral Arena, upcoming scifi vampire bloodsports novel. currently stalled due to plot issues though i do have over 30k worth of manuscript for it. will probably post sometime this year but i should stop making promises

“Really? You don’t think it improper?” “Of course not. You’re my sire. Sure, we’re basically peers now, but it’s not unprecedented for me to want to protect you with my body, especially given the stakes of the mission. Just come here, will you?” I settle myself against her body, and she wraps her arm around my chest. “Comfy, yeah?” It is. I feel incredibly safe, probably the effects of an arch-class aura in such close proximity. Fatigue crashes down on me now that it’s not being held at bay by anxiety, and my eyes flutter. Avrae laughs again. Her laugh is like a warm river over rocks. “Good night, Bea.” “Good night, Avrae.”

Turns Out Sleep Deprivation is Bad for My Latent Mental Illness - Is It You or Is It Me? a three-chapter whumptober fill I have in progress for the doc. they have a nasty habit of staying up for 60+ hours and expecting not to have manic episodes or psychosis. there's also an old febuwhump fill with vaguely the same premise that i might also finish some day

"What is it?" she asked as she prepared the dosage. The Doctor knew they didn't have time for this. "Amnestic agent. Should take care of the last hour and the next two. Will you hand me the suction, at least? This bleeding will not resolve itself." "The post-traumatic stress—" "Will be less unpleasant than death! I informed you at the outset that my intention was to commit medical malpractice. If you had wanted to recuse yourself, the ideal time to do it would have been then. Now either administer the dosage or give me the damn suction! All you are at this moment is an obstruction, and if they die on the table this really will all have been for naught."

Hitting on a God is Somehow Working - In the Hall of Reality, Thanatos and the Archfey's love at first sight story. thought this one was gonna win for a bit lol. i will probably finish this. someday. a bit of chapter three for you

He stretched languorously and pushed himself to a sitting position. "Pleasure to have been of service. I've had an amazing night myself, but I suppose I ought to be going." Sorting out his clothes from the floor was going to be a chore. "No." "No?" "I still have need of you. You have more knowledge of this sexual pleasure, do you not? I sense I have barely scratched the surface. You shall not depart until you have exhausted your knowledge on the subject." 

and, last but not least (you guys really liked this one lol)

I Think BDSM Would Fix Me - command me to be well, another installment in the anchors series. the archfey returns from aer long absence, but thanatos doesn't feel worthy of aer anymore. they... change their dynamic a bit to compensate.

"What is it, child? Make your supplication." There. That was what he needed. A cold shiver ran through him at the authority in the Divine Reality's voice. "I want to be yours." "You are mine." "I want to serve you. Need to- be useful to you, I can't just take without giving. I've taken so much and given nothing back I can't- Divine Reality, I beseech you. Use me. Command your most faithful servant, I'll fulfill any-" "Oh?" The cold wind that swept through the room wasn't his imagination. He heard the various latches, fastenings, and shutters on the doors and windows slam into place, creating a private sanctum and plunging the room into darkness save for the flickering candlelight and Reality's internal glow. Ae didn't move from in front of him, and yet he felt a presence behind him, ghosting over his shoulders, murmuring in his ear. "You are a creature of contracts, vampire, I am sure you understand the severity of the pact you propose to forge now." Magic crackled in the air behind him, but he didn't dare to turn around.

i hope people like these they took a long time to pick out and even longer to write XD yes ao3 links and not tumblr links cause it's just so hard to find things on my own damn blog

if you want to hear about my work or add requests to my slush pile send me an ask!

Badly Summarized WIPs Poll!

i am. incredibly late aha

tagged by @crash-bump-bring-the-whump, a significant percentage of these are from anchors so i hope you're happy XD no clue what i'm doing fr let's gooooooo

Rules: Pick a bunch of your WIPs and summarize them as badly as possible, then ask your followers to vote on which one they’d be most likely to read. Multiple/all/none options are completely optional.

i feel like this vastly overestimates the amount of porn i write. or maybe it doesn't. you decide.

tagging... fuck it uh... @speculative-scintillation, @albatris (idr if you've done it already???) @liminalpsych, @noveldivergence, anddddd @coffeewritesfiction no pressure just trying to remember who's active on my dash and who's done this already XD

[untitled-smp]

Broadcast #07 - Progress - WZRD Verdigris Radio

In the heart of the Corroded faction, an enigmatic man, better known as the Wizard, releases his first radio broadcast to the world. We hope you’ll become a listener.

This week’s song is “Sun Moth” by Fever the Ghost

< =o= >

"So sorry! The tapes of the most recent broadcasts from the past few months have just been sitting on my desk, instead of being mailed to you to be digitized. I'll be sending them all over to you right now, I'm so so sorry." -- WZRD's Audio Archivist

< =o= >

WZRD Verdigris Radio is written, produced, and edited by @theecryptiid.

The Wizard is voiced by Cass theecryptiid.

< =o= >

[Previous | Next]

[Transcript below the cut]

Good afternoon listeners! It’s the first of many hot days here in Verdigris, which I’m happy to say I haven’t had to deal with much as I’ve been hard at work getting a special project together. We’ve been putting together a group of gazebos to represent the three different factions that have emerged in the past year, and it is my hope that it means we will be able to work together as a group to achieve some semblance of peace.

I don’t entirely know why we ended up splintering off into these three different groups, I think it’s mostly because of the stress we were under in the inbetween of the old world to this one. Those of us who grouped up to keep ourselves sane during that process seemed to keep the same allegiances when we emerged into safety. 

Corroded, Malfunction, and Wisteria, what a group of folks. Could not be more different, and are yet, still very much the same. I feel like we forget, being so close to one another, why we are the same, what we have in common. What we are, every day, hiding from. [sighs], I’m sorry listeners, it’s just this time of year reminds me where we were last year, and all of the trials and tribulations we went through. [laughs sadly], This time…uh this time last year we were trying to make peace with an Unknown, and look where that got us. For those of you who don’t remember or weren’t around…well it got my home blown to smithereens, and irradiated with all manner of dark corruption.

I digress. All of this is to say, I worry about that, about it happening again and the fact that we could do very little to stop it last time. I’ve got some plans, been talking to some members of other factions who I’m friendly with, and they agree we’ve gotta make some sort of agreement between us, make sure that there’s no infighting that might distract us from the things that wish us harm. 

[pause, chuckle], as you can probably tell I’ve had a lot of time to think while chopping down and stripping birch and oak for this building. I’ve missed the hard work somewhat, but my old body definitely does not, my back and arms were aching yesterday!

Oh, hey! Was that? Oh yes it was, just saw Flick flying in, probably to pick up some stuff from Verde Drug. Speaking of him actually, he brought me the results of the election just yesterday! Seems Doc is the new president of Wisteria, so congratulations to him. In my opinion he will make a strong, firm leader who will work well under the happenstance of a crisis.

Alright, well, before I head off to go bring Joco some dinner where they’re hard at work on the pit under the gazebos, I’ll leave you with one last tune before my audio archivist takes over spinning the discs for the evening.