#// i'm still figuring Emery out

[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!

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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.

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[litnerdwrites]

Azriel in Silver Flames

I've basically hated the IC since... Acowar, honestly. But the more I think about it, the more conflicted I am about Azriel. I liked him in every book, but in retrospect, I'm not so sure anymore. This is mostly regarding his treatment of Nesta, since he honestly didn't do much before hand the start of Silver Flames, and he didn't do too much during it either.

I understand why Azriel would stay away from Nesta from the end of ACOWAR to the start of Silver Flames. He's observant, and I imagine he's figured out that Nesta doesn't want to spend time with the IC. Moreover, he may also see it as being in Feyre's jurisdiction, and wanting to stay out of it out of respect for her privacy and what not. It's his behaviour through out silver flames that has me conflicted.

Azriel was raised in confinement with limited interactions with other people. He saw his mother once a week, for limited time and suffered physical and verbal abuse, and torture during that time. He had no control over his schedule, food, social interactions, nothing. Yet, despite that, he allowed Nesta to be isolated and kept on a strict schedule and diet that she has no say in, and we never see any signs of him arguing against it. Especially since he knows being locked up somewhere against your will, where you can't leave, often made to do things you don't want, is what most of the IC's trauma roots from (Amren in the Prison, Rhys UTM, Feyre UTM, Mor in the CON, Azriel in his father's dungeon, etc). Why the, seemingly, most sensible person allowed this is beyond me.

Azriel, through out the book, never protests against this treatment either. He treats Nesta decently, though that is the absolute minimum. She should've been treated like that, regardless, of where she was or what she was doing.

He despises Illyria, knows the dangers out there, from both males and whatever's in those forests, yet he doesn't protest against Nesta going. We've seen that there are days where she wanders around on her own (like when she went to Emerie's), without protection. What would happen if she jumped off a cliff or a steep bluff? Or if she went into the forests? What about if some of the males attacked her? It's not like she was constantly supervised. trusting her witch status will keep them away is too risky, since some might not care. Azriel knows the dangers of Illyria, and he let her be taken there. He saw how Illyria hurt his mother, and how she was treated, first hand.

He doesn't do anything even after suspecting that Cassian pushed her down the stairs, or witnessing her being verbally abused by Cassian, and Rhys when he cares to show up. He doesn't defend her, or shut his brothers down, he just lets it happen, seemingly unbothered. Idk about you, but if I was at dinner, and my brother said to his girlfriend, the things that Cassian says to Nesta, I'd drag him out the front door by the hair myself.

Azriel also had a bag packed for Nesta and Cassian's hike from hell, waiting for Cassian to come get it. He let Cassian take Nesta somewhere else against her will. He, presumably, knew about the plan to take her on that hike, helped prepare for it, and just let it happen without a care. He knew where they were taking her, and what they were going to make her do, and he let it happen.

Then there's the issue regarding the Trove. Azriel pushes for Nesta's right to know about what her powers can do, yet he doesn't have any issue pushing her into life threatening situation to keep Elain from it? He says that Elain shouldn't be exposed to whatever darkness the trove and cauldron possess, but that alone implies that Nesta should be exposed to it, and that's despite her mental condition at the time.

While I don't think Azriel's status as a spymaster means he should know things like Nesta's fear of fire, and her suicidal ideation, but it does mean that there's a very good chance that he does (and yet he still sends her on that hike). Knowing this, Azriel implies that Nesta should go on these life threatening missions, where she could be killed, or commit suicide, or be taken.

Azriel is shown to stand up to/argue with Rhysand in the bonus chapters. He does so for himself and arguably Elain. Why doesn't he do it for Nesta too?

It's all of these little things that leave a bitter taste in my mouth regarding Azriel.

Would he have tried to beg/force Nesta to go instead of Elain had she refused, or if he would've stood up for Nesta if Cassian had become physically violent with her. If she refused to go on that hike, would he have fought for her right to chose like he did before? If Rhys tried to kill her, would he stand up to him for her? If Elain is mistreated in her book, would he stand up for her? If so, why not Nesta too? How can he call himself her friend if he doesn't at least try to talk about how wrong it is, assuming he even realises it's wrong to start with.

We haven't gotten much of his pov yet, and he doesn't really say much, but from what I have seen, I'm concerned. Azriel may not be actively trying to hurt Nesta, but it feels like he enables his brothers and his court too much.

Didn't Tamlin dod the same, along with his court, who watched Feyre whither away, and did nothing. Even if they didn't see what was happening in her head, they saw her wasting away from lack of sleep or food. Isn't Azriel doing the same to Nesta by letting her be treated that way? Reaming neutral still makes him part of the problem, doesn't it?

Am I the only one who gets this bad taste in my mouth when I think about this?

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Part Nine (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: Teasing and mentions of reading smutty books!

Part eight Part ten

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo

After some time to adjust to Velaris, Y/N makes a revelation while training with Azriel...

Also, I'm sad to say my posting schedule will be slowing down a bit. Even if they're a bit shorter, I promise to keep getting this series out to you guys!

It had been two months since I had joined this lovely court, and everything had been going well.  More than well, actually.  Noone could get me to admit it, but I was happier than I had ever been before.

Stella and I had a small home, which when Azriel apologized about the size, and said that they’d have something more suitable for a family of two, I hadn’t cared.

I had just grinned at him and told him it was perfect.

And it was, since I had never had a place where I didn’t have to fear someone barging in on me, or locking me inside for weeks.

Not only that, but I had made friends.

Cassian’s training was absolutely insane, and when we started, I felt like my bones were going to snap into pieces, but Nesta had given me good advice, and eventually I was part of her small friend group.

I liked them, I also loved the tiny book club of which I was now part of.

I had also found myself a… an acquaintance of Amren, the female I had been so interested in before.  I wouldn’t say friends, because we never talk, but neither of us mind hanging out, so that’s nice.

Azriel has been helping us train with my shadows, and I have to admit, it’s the favorite part of my day.  Everyone says I can’t actually go out and start spying until Azriel deems me ready.

“You need to keep your balance.”  Azriel hissed.

Oh, did I also mention he’s a complete hardass during training?

“That’s hard to do when the wind is hitting you like a ton of bricks!”  I half shriek as I almost fall off the rock again.

We had been doing this for three days, and I still haven’t been able to stand with only one foot on the rock.  I might have been able to if there wasn’t so much wind but…

“I thought you were supposed to be training me how to use my shadows!”  I shout over the wind, right before falling face first into the ground.

Azriel chuckles, and I get to my knees to shoot him a withering glare, but I can see he’s by my pack, reading the most recent book from our little book club.

I’m blushing heavily as he raised an eyebrow at me.  “This fell out of your pack when you threw it down.  I thought I’d do some reading.”

I tried not to think of the many possible scenes he could be reading right now, the ones that still made me blush when I read them.

Talking to Morrigan, I had accidently let it slip that I was a virgin, and that I didn’t know about any of that stuff at all, really.

Somehow that had made it back to Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie, who then picked me out the most… detailed books in their collection.

And now Azriel was reading that book, looking up at me with a sly grin.

Azriel was fun.  He teased and taunted me in ways that didn’t feel like he was picking me apart.  And I liked to spar with him in this way, little snarky remarks back and forth.  HAlf of the things I say would have gotten me strung up at home.

“I am teaching you to use your shadows.  You’re just not understanding the assignment.”  He said, flipping the page as his eyebrows shot up.

I can’t help that my face is bright red as I try to speak, my voice coming out stiff, “What do you mean I don’t understand the assignment?  What do my shadows have to do with balancing on rocks?”

He sighed, tossing the book aside to my relief.  “What do you use your shadows for Y/N?”

I study him, trying to figure out his game.  “They help me spy sometimes, but for the most part they stay with me, hiding me when need be and otherwise they stay with me.”

To prove what I had just told him, I beckon them forth, and they appear by my side.  I tried not to smile, thinking we were finally going to start some real training.

He snorted.  “It’s good to at least know they’re here.  Now go balance on that rock again.”

I try not to gape at him, and I was about to give him a piece of my mind, but my shadows have other ideas.

I gasp a little bit as they pull me over to the rock again, and I quickly relent, sighing as I perch atop it once again.

Looking down at my shadows, which seemed to be encouraging me, it suddenly hit me what Azriel wanted.

I’m tempted not to do it, just to spite him.

But my legs are tired, and if this means moving on in our training, then mother help me I would jump off a cliff at this point.

My shadows follow my lead, helping me balance against the wind, and suddenly it’s not a struggle at all to stay upright.

Azriel appears from around the corner, smirking.  “There we go little shadow.”

I shoot him a glare, and he just laughs.

Watching him laugh, my heart flutters a bit, my cheeks turn pink and I struggle to breathe-

I almost fall off the rock as I realize what’s going on to my horror.

I was falling in love with him.

[twinsunstars]

Analysis of The Bad Batch’s Final Season Trailer

ft: pain and screaming

So the trailer for the last season of The Bad Batch finally got released, and we have all been screaming over it since this morning. Last season left us on a heartbreaking cliffhanger, and with Season 3 being our last season that we'll see the Batch together, there's a lot to look out for.

I didn't have too much to write in here, just some small thoughts.

For starters, we see Phee within seconds of the trailer opening, helping the Batch in some kind of action scene. I'm glad she's helping out, and I kind of wonder if we'll ever see her reaction to Tech being gone.

Rex will be helping out the Batch again, and hopefully he finds information to help find Omega.

This image has been in my mind for a while. There are two small figures that seem to be walking out from the ship, and I can't help but feel they're Omega and Crosshair after their escape from the lab. We'll just have to see.

They had the audacity to remind us that this happened 😭

We'll be getting a lot of action and chaos in this season. I wonder what's happening here.

Omega gets to see Crosshair again while they are trapped, and he looks so sad and tired. I'm looking forward to their interactions, and hopefully Omega tells him about Tech.

I think Emerie will have an important role to play, and I hope she tries to help get Omega and Crosshair out.

She's been waiting for so long, someone get her home soon.

Palpatine definitely has something big planned, it'll be a matter of time before finding out.

Many theories speculate that this is Tech... honestly, I'm not keeping my hopes high for the chance that he is alive (but I am on the side that he potentially is...). If this ends up being Tech, there goes the Winter Soldier arc.

I'm excited for Fennec Shand and Cad Bane to be showing up again. I feel like Fennec will probably help them, but maybe not.

We see Nala Se still alive and well, and I doubt she'll have a role in Omega getting out. I keep wondering if she'll be killed off this season.

This is Wolffe, isn't it??? We got Gregor in the first season, and now Wolffe will be coming so Rex can get him and lead up to them living together in Rebels.

I love Omega's hair here, she's getting so big all the time 🤧

This is definitely her escaping, I'm so nervous already.

This is definitely what got everyone screaming. We'll get to see Ventress in the Empire era, and that Dark Disciple book was the first thing that popped into my mind once I saw her design. I wonder what role Ventress will have in this season, and I love her new golden lightsaber.

What are your theories for the final season of The Bad Batch? Please tell me they got AZ back from Cid, and I pray we don't get to see Cid at all, for all we know she can leave. I wonder if we'll see Cody again after he disappeared. I hope Crosshair and Omega comes back home safely. And I just know the ending will be pain even though we want a happy ending 😭

[rose-of-the-grave]

Two Can Share

Pairing: Gwyn x Azriel

Hey! I hope you like this. I'm the author(please don't repost)

Masterlist. Read on Ao3

Warnings: kissing, mating bond, getting together, drinking

Word Count: 2,775

Description: After having a little too much to drink Gwyn accidentally stumbles into the wrong room.

Gwyn stumbled through the hallway to her room, drunk giggles echoing from the room she had just left. Tripping over thin air, she reached an arm out to steady herself against the wall. She tried to keep walking but ended up kicking something solid. Cursing, she shook her foot. Trying to dislodge the pain. She had run into the stairs. Hesitantly she took a shaky step. Then another. And another. She kept on climbing the stairs, pausing whenever she felt dizzy. Which was nearly every step.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she made it to the top. And was faced with what seemed to be an endless hallway. She couldn’t focus enough to even see the end of the hallway.

She walked, or more aptly stumbled down the hallway. She counted the doors on her right. Or wait, on her left. Normally she slept in the dormitories with the other priestesses but Nesta had offered her a permanent room to stay in.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. 

There it was. Or wait, was it seven doors down? Oh, who cares. It’s not like any of the rooms were occupied. Emerie and Nesta were still downstairs drinking. Cassian was in the capital and Az was on a mission.

Right. Azriel. He’d been gone for weeks. All she knew was that he was in Vallahan gathering information for the High Lord. She missed him so much. She missed their late night practice sessions, she missed talking with him, she missed spending time with him. Every night when she couldn’t sleep she had been going to the practice ring and had gone through the same motions he had been teaching her before he left. The stars glittering above her, the moon illuminating her surroundings so didn’t trip. She missed him.

She missed his smile, and although he rarely did it, his laugh. She missed the way his eyes would light up whenever she got something right. She missed how at ease she was when she was with him. Over the last few months they had become friends. And maybe, just maybe, they were on their way to becoming something more. She needed to see him. She loved him.

No. Those thoughts were what had prompted her to indulge so much tonight. What she needed was sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. Maybe in the morning she’d feel better prepared to take on her traitorous thoughts.

Twisting the handle to her room, she entered her room. There in the middle of it was a bed. A great big bed that looked so welcoming and cozy. Without changing she plopped down on the bed, face down. Reaching up she grabbed and hugged her pillow. Turning over onto her side, she promptly fell asleep.

The minute Gwyn opened the door, he had awoken. Not because his shadows had warned him, the little traitors, but because he had been having difficulty sleeping. In his exhausted state he hadn’t been able to speak. He watched as she fell face down on his bed, readjusted, and then fell asleep. Careful not to wake the sleeping figure, he slid out of bed. He pulled on some clothes.

Sighing, he dragged a hand down his face. Walking over to the chair in the corner of his bedroom he picked up the book he had been reading earlier. Placing a pair of glasses that had been enchanted to allow him to see in the dark on his face, he opened the book to where he had stopped.

He read for a few hours until his vision started to blur and he regretted not finding somewhere else to sleep. Determined to be more alert he put the book down and stood up. His muscles groaned at him.

Walking to the kitchen he made some coffee and a scone that had been made yesterday. Nuala and Cerridwen had probably made them. He bit into it, swallowing it down with the bitter taste of the coffee.

When he got back to his room Gwyn had sprawled across the massive bed. Her red hair was the only indication of where her head was underneath the blankets. By this point rays of golden light were peaking over the mountains in the distance, illuminating Velaris. Pale light streamed through the windows of Azriel's room. The light brought out the strands of gold in Gwyn’s hair, it looked like golden flames, licking against his sheets. If anyone had asked him his opinion on fire it would have been decidedly negative but any comparison of Gwyn’s hair to flames seemed to ignite a warmth in his heart.

His love for the priestess had not been a lightning strike, stunning him into silence. It had been a slow realization that had crept up on him over the last few months of spending more and more time together. At first they had bumped into each other when neither could sleep but after it became obvious that their insomnia was not going away, he had suggested they train at night. It would allow him to teach her his more specific skill set and gave him the opportunity to take his mind off of the previous few months, particularly Solstice.

Over time their late night training sessions became the best part of his day, the part he looked forward to the most.

Just as his love had grown for Gwyn, so too had his hesitancy to tell her how he felt. This wasn’t the first time he had been in love, or at least thought himself in love and look how that had turned out. He had been obsessed with Mor for centuries and it took him just that long to admit what he had long known. She didn’t see him like that. It had hurt at first, but the signs had all been there, he had simply ignored them.

After meeting his High Lady’s older sisters, he had also found someone new. Elain, the middle sister, was everything kind and gentle and it had been difficult to believe himself worthy of her. It had been only right that she be his mate. Her younger sister and her older sister were both mated to his brothers. Three brothers for three sisters. But like Mor, he was just ignoring all signs to the contrary. When the youngest Vanserra had said those fateful words in Hybern it had hurt but it also felt like everything clicked.

How could Elain be his mate? He wasn’t worthy of her and he never could be. 

That night when they kissed and then Rhys had stopped them had only been about attraction. If he was being honest, when his brother and High Lord had told him to stay away from Elain his issue hadn’t been that he didn’t want to stay away from Elain so much as it had been that it had been Rhys telling him to. It had felt like a confirmation of his own darkest thoughts. That he wasn’t good enough.

In the months following everything had been so busy that he hadn’t had time to really think about that night. Then, like a ray of light in the darkness, came Gwyn. They had already been friends for a while at that point but things had changed between them. When he started training her their friendship deepened to the point where he realized that his infatuations with Mor and Elain had been just that. Infatuation.

There were times he supposed when he thought that there might be something more between him and Gwyn. Almost as if he was being drawn to her by something not quite of this world. He didn’t dare to hope that it was the mating bond. It was probably just his imagination.

“What are you thinking about with that intense look on your face?” Gwyn’s words were enough to shock him out of his thoughts.

He had been looking out into the distance, unfocused, but now all of his attention was on the veritable goddess who lay in his bed, wrapped in sheets. Her auburn hair created the impression of a halo above her angelic face. Her eyes met his and he smiled. She returned for a split second before she groaned.

“Ow! My head.” He chuckled. “It’s not funny!”

“No, it’s not.” He assured her, still smirking.

“Quiet. Please. Too loud.”

Lowering his voice a bit, he said, “I’ll get you some water.”

“No. Coffee.”

“Sure. I’ll be back soon.” He made to leave when the sound of a mug appearing on the bedside table reached his ears. Looking back, he saw Gwyn sipping what appeared to be coffee from a blue mug that he distinctly recalled being down in the kitchen last he checked. It looked as if Nesta hadn’t been lying when she said that the House was sentient.

“Why are you in my room?” She asked, blowing the steam rising from the mug nestled between her hands.

“I think you mean what are you doing in my room.”

“What?”

“This is my room.��

Looking around the room Gwyn saw that it was indeed his room. All of a sudden last night came back to her in a flash. Drinking with Nesta and Emerie. Leaving to go to her room. Stumbling into bed. Drunk Gwyn could have easily miscounted the rooms. But she could have just as easily been trying to do what Sober Gwyn desperately wanted to.

At least Az didn’t think anything of it. He just found her predicament amusing. How would he react if she told him that what she wanted most, enough that her subconscious was meddling, was him? She wasn’t blind. She had seen him with her friend’s younger sister. Nesta herself had mentioned it in passing about the two of them.

Pushing the blankets off of herself, she stood up. Still holding her coffee she walked towards the door. Towards him. He walked with her, opening the door.

She turned to look at him with a soft smile.

“Thanks for letting me stay here. It was the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.” Then, without giving herself time to think, she stretched up onto the tips of her toes and brushed her lips gently against his cheek before walking through the door. She left him there stunned. Lifting a hand to his cheek, he let his fingertips graze the very spot where her soft lips had kissed him.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, amazed.

Before he could even come up with a plan for what to say he ran out of his room and down the hall, chasing Gwyn.

At the sound of his rushed steps she turned around to face him.

“What…?” Before she could finish what she was going to say he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

He poured every emotion, every feeling of longing that he’d ever felt for her into that kiss. Her smile flashing before his eyes. He didn’t care that he probably didn’t deserve her. He loved her and he was going to tell her in the only way he could without having a way out if things went south. At least if she rejected his kiss he could pretend it never happened. He didn’t quite think he could if he voiced how he felt for her and then she rejected him.

But then, something magical happened. She kissed him back! He smiled into the kiss causing them to break apart. Gazing intently into her eyes he leaned in to kiss her cheek before walking away. Her hand somehow entwined with his pulled him back.

Smiling at her he knew that they would need to talk later.

“Kiss me.”

Fuck that, later can wait.

She leaned in and this time her hands crept up into his hair pulling him down. He met her kiss with equally as much passion and need. All too aware of their surroundings thanks to his shadows he pulled away once more and led her into a room that just happened to be a library. It was a small, cozy room with a few shelves of books, a comfortable looking couch, and a fireplace that warmed up the room deliciously.

He walked them backwards towards the couch, his lips never leaving hers except to come up for air. They tumbled back onto the couch, giggling like a pair of horny teenagers. In that moment he needed to tell her. 

Pulling away to look in her lovely face, he smiled at her low whine. Taking her face in his hands he said those three little words that he had never said to anyone before. He might have wanted to but he had never screwed up enough courage to. She made him feel like he could be brave.

“I love you.”

Her eyes flashed with some unknown emotion.

He hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

“You don’t have to say that.” She said, not meeting his gaze.

Lifting her chin with his hand, he said, “I mean it.” He wanted her to believe him. He wanted her to feel just how much his love for her had consumed him. “I love you with all my heart. With every breath I take, with every beat of my heart. I love you.”

She smiled softly. “I love you too.”

Then leaning up she kissed him, slowly and sweetly. Taking one of his hands in hers she placed it on her hip. Deepening the kiss, she bit his lip. Growling, he took control twisting them so he was above her, careful not to put his full weight on her.

“Is this okay?”

Instead of responding she simply drew him even closer. 

They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t even notice the time until Rhys spoke into Azriel’s mind.

Where are you? You’re already five minutes late.

He shot back a quick, be there in a minute. Before pulling away from Gwyn, regrettably.

“I’m supposed to be in a meeting with Rhys right now.”

She frowned but urged him, “Go. Don’t keep him waiting longer. I have to get back to the library soon anyway.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Can I see you after?”

“Sure. I should be finished in time for our usual late night training sessions. I can meet you in the training ring?”

Not wanting to push her he simply nodded instead of asking if she wanted to meet him here instead where they could maybe talk instead of practice.

“Or,” she continued, playing with a strand of her hair instead of looking at him. “I could meet you in your room and we could talk?”

His heart warmed at her words. “Of course.” Getting up from the couch, he walked over to the door and was about to leave when he looked back at her. “I’ll see you then.” His voice, full of promise.

--------------------------------------------------

After sorting through books and reshelving for what had felt like hours Gwyn was finally free to go. Walking along the hallway to Az’s room she couldn’t help but grin. He loved her.

The door opened the instant she went to knock.

He smiled at her, opening the door wider so she could come in. The door hadn’t even closed full before she was back in his arms kissing him. Walking together, they fell on his bed. After kissing for a while, she pulled away to catch her breath. Her eyes met his and that’s when she saw it. He looked at her in awe, lifting a hand to her cheek, cupping it almost reverently. A thread of gold streamed between them, binding their two hearts together. It didn’t feel surprising, it felt like she had always known. In an instant she saw every interaction between them in a whole different light. Every time she had felt inexplicably drawn to him now made sense. Her entire world had been spinning but now it had snapped into focus.

Was this how it felt for his brothers? He wondered. He was overwhelmed with his love for her. It was the most amazing feeling in the world to realize that Gwyn was his mate. He was destined to be with the person who he was in love with. No more heartache, no more wishing for a mate. He had never felt luckier.

Breaking the silence he asked, “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

“Yes, but only if you actually sleep in the bed tonight.”

He blushed.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“And I’m grateful but from now on, the two of us can share. That is, if you want to.”

“I would love to.”

“Then it’s settled.”

[roxygen22]

Still Here (Chapter 9)

Summary: Your ex calls and throws off your evening. You and Timothée make love for the first time (again), and you finally say the three little words he's been dying to hear.

C/W: Conversation with toxic ex; NSFW (oral and consensual/protected p-in-v sex, denied orgasm)

Catch up on previous chapters here.

You walked into the town's elementary school and were immediately hit by a wave of nostalgia. It was the same one you attended, after all, though the hallways seemed much smaller (or normal, really) as an adult. Madison walked alongside you to the office to register for the upcoming school year.

"Oh, that was my classroom for 3rd grade. Ms. Hobbs was my favorite teacher. She had a knack for making stories come alive. She would decorate the classroom based on what we were reading at the time. Oh, we had SO much fun when we read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! I found the golden ticket and got to pick a prize out of the treasure bin."

Madison barely acknowledged your story with a "uh-huh" as she looked around, nervously biting her lip.

"I figured that would get more of a reaction out of you given your current obsession with Wonka," you said as you playfully nudged her arm with your elbow.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Mom. I'm just thinking about my old school. And my friends."

You stopped walking and gave her a hug. "I know how hard it was for me to move across the country and start at a new school, and I was an adult. Well, a teenaged adult, but still. I can only imagine how you are feeling at the moment. If you want to talk about it, I'm all ears. And I'm sure Nana, Pawpaw, and even Timothée would say the same." You squeezed her to you once more. "You're a likeable girl, Madison. You'll make new friends here. And at least you know Emerie already." She just nodded, so you kept your nostalgia as you continued to the office to finish paperwork.

Evening arrived and Timothée came to pick you up for a date. It was a fantastic feeling to have your relationship out in the open now. Your mom was even supportive despite her earlier comments about sparing his feelings. Madison was sitting outside on the porch swing reading a book when he came up the steps.

"Hey, kiddo!" you heard him say cheerily through the front door. You had heard him drive up and got up to let him in, but once you saw the two talking you wanted to give them some space.

"Hey." Madison put her book down.

"I heard you got to see your new school today. What'd you think?"

"It's...small."

Timothée laughed and sat beside her. "I'm sure it's very small compared to what you are used to."

"At least I won't have a lot of new names to memorize," she side-eyed him and smirked.

"That's one way to look at it!" He bumped her arm with his. "Alright, I'm going to go say hi to your grandparents and mom."

Timothée lightly rapped on the door as he let himself in. You slightly startled him with your presence right by the door, but he quickly regained his senses and greeted you with a kiss. As he stepped around to say hello to your parents, your phone rang. It was your ex, Michael.

"Hello?" you answered in a questioning tone.

"I'm calling to talk to Madison."

"Oh, uhh, I'm about to go out, but I can give her the phone for a few minutes while I finish getting ready."

"Go out? Like on a date?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes." You made frustrated eye contact with Timothée and mouthed "Michael" as you walked to your bedroom. He followed and leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"It IS my business to know who is spending time with my child," he groused.

You felt your ears heat up and your lip curl. "Like you gave me the same courtesy when you started seeing Katie," you spat. "Besides, you hardly reach out to make contact with YOUR child. You can't just call on a whim and demand to talk to her after weeks of radio silence."

"Just let me talk to her."

You muted the phone and grabbed a pillow from your bed to scream into. Despite how much you just wanted to hang up on Michael, you never wanted Madison to say that you kept her away from him. You squeezed past Timothée and walked to the front porch.

"Maddy, your dad is on the phone." She looked up at you in confusion that was quickly replaced with excitement. She grabbed for the phone.

"Daddy?" You couldn't hear what he was saying on the other end, but you heard her start listing off some of the fun things she had done since moving out here. You went back inside but only closed the screen door so you could easily hear if you needed to intervene.

Timothée was sitting on the couch. "What did he want?" he asked attitudinally.

"He just randomly wanted to talk to Madison, I guess."

"Where does he come off questioning you about you personal life?" You just shrugged, unsure of where Michael's behavior was stemming from. A few minutes later, Madison came in and handed you the phone.

"Here, he wants to talk to you again."

You took the phone back and held it to your ear. "Hello?"

"Who is Timothy? Isn't he the guy who dumped you in high school? Is the dating pool in that tiny ass town so small out that you have to resort to your own leftovers?" You didn't validate his insane line of questioning with a response. "Whatever. Why is Madison around him so much? He is basically all she talked about. What kind of influence is that blue-collar, good for noth-"

"Don't you DARE talk about him like that." Your voice was dripping with venom. You jumped up from the couch and stormed out onto the porch. Your mother, upon hearing your tone, took Madison into the kitchen to keep her occupied.

"I do not owe you an explanation for how I choose to fix what you broke," you continued. "EVERYTHING I do, I think about Madison first. Can you say the same? I ran into Timothée a couple of weeks after we got back into town, and yes we reconnected. But you know what. She probably likes him because he has spent more quality time with her in the past two months than you have in the past two YEARS. HE shows an interest in her. HE checks in on her. HE puts her first in our relationship. HE treats her like a human being, and not just to get to me. Because HE is a decent human being. Next time you want to talk to Madison, coordinate a date and time first. I am no longer available to cater to your every whim." You hung up and ran down the steps to the driveway. You angrily walked over to your dad's shed and kicked the tire on the tractor.

"Careful, you could break a toe doing that."

You spun and saw Timothée standing a few paces behind you. You sighed and closed your eyes. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to confirm that he's an asshole. Though I did enjoy hearing you sing my praises," he smirked.

You laughed wetly as hot tears poured down your face. "I'm sorry that he called right as we were about to head out the door."

"Shh, don't worry about it." Timothée pulled you into a hug and rested his chin on your head. "I know you probably don't feel like eating after getting so worked up. Would you like to come over and chill at my place instead of going out? We can pick up a pizza, snuggle on the couch, and watch a movie"

"That sounds so much better than the original plan right now."

<><><><><> (minors DNI from this point)

Timothée held the door open for you to enter his house. While you had been on the property a couple of times since returning from California, you had yet to go inside his new place. This house was not here when the two of you dated in high school, so you had no idea what the interior looked like.

"Welcome," he said. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get us a couple of plates."

You walked to the couch and leaned against the back of it. "It's less...'bachelor pad' than I expected," you said through a laugh.

"Ah, well, I cleaned up my act once I started pushing 30." You chuckled. "Bathroom is over there," Timothée pointed, "if you need it." He walked around the counter and couch to the coffee table and grabbed the remote. "Here, why don't you find something to watch while I divvy up the pizza."

You sat down on the couch, took the remote in hand, and started scrolling through Netflix. You still hadn't decided when he sat next to you with the pizza and beer. Still feeling the nostalgia from visiting the school with Madison, you settled on 13 Going on 30. He rolled his eyes.

"What? You told me to choose. I was inspired by your earlier comment about getting your act together at 30."

"I rolled my eyes because of the number of times you made me sit through this movie in high school. Some things never change."

"It's one of my faves!"

"Well, I guess I can appreciate the plot line a little more now. Guy in his 30s eventually gets the girl he pined over as a teen."

"Awww, you're getting sentimental in your old age." You grinned.

Timothée pretended to scowl at you, then booped you on the nose. "Are you going to press play or not?"

Once the two of you finished the pizza, you set the plates aside and curled up next to him. He draped his arm around you, allowing his fingers to lazily drift up and down your arm. As the movie progressed, his hand eventually found its way to the space above your jeans where your shirt had ridden up slightly. You shivered as he grazed the bare skin on your waist. You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked up at him. He seized the opportunity to capture your lips with his.

You hungrily opened your mouth to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue glide across yours in return. You eagerly shifted to sit in his lap. He reached around and squeezed your ass before sliding his hands under your shirt. At first he just snaked his hands underneath, but then began to pull it up. You sucked in a breath and froze, catching his hand at the hem of your shirt. He pulled back to look at your face with concern.

"Timothée, I- uh, I don't have the same body I did as a teenager."

His face relaxed and he smiled warmly. "[Y/N], you were and still are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

"Yeah, but..." you argued as your insecurities became more evident.

"Let me guess," he interrupted. "Stretch marks? More curves from maturing into a gorgeous woman whose awe-inspiring body has brought life into this world?"

You simply nodded. Your cheeks blushed from the attention.

Timothée pulled you tighter against his body. "Let me love those, too." He stood with your legs still wrapped around him. His hands cupped your ass to support you as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clasped a hand in his hair. He placed a knee on his bed and laid you down gently.

"You okay?" he asked as he hovered over you. Your breathing shuddered, but you nodded.

"It's...it's been a while," you whispered.

"Me, too." Timothée gently grazed his lips against yours. Once. Twice. He then tugged at your shirt, and this time you made no move to stop him. He pushed himself up on his arms to take in the sight of you half-naked on his bed.

"Now, why am I more undressed than you?" you teased. You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled. He sat up and continued to pull it over his head. You sat up on your knees to run your hand down his chest and abs, stopping at the buttons on his jeans.

Timothée grabbed your hips and sucked in a breath in anticipation of your next move. "[Y/N], I want you so badly."

"Not as much as I want you." You both stood and clumsily finished undressing each other while hungrily kissing each other. He snuck a hand between your folds as you freed one leg from your pants. You gasped, having become unaccustomed to the feeling of another's touch. Noticing the reaction, he curled his fingers and rubbed your increasingly sensitive bundle of nerves. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck to prevent your collapse.

Just as you started to feel the heat of climax in your core, Timothée pulled away. You whined at the absence of his hand. He flashed a wry smile and licked his fingers. He pressed himself against you and pulled your chin up for a kiss. Then, he backed you up against the bed so your knees buckled, forcing you to lay back. He separated your legs with his body and dipped down onto his knees. You knew what was about to happen, but you were still not prepared for the overwhelming sensation of his warm tongue separating your folds. You involuntarily bucked up into his face. In return, his hands snaked to your hips to pin them down. You moaned and struggled against his grip as the coil inside your belly tightened and tightened. But yet again, he stopped before you could reach your climax.

Timothée reached for the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a condom. Once sheathed, he picked you up and pulled you further back onto the bed. He hovered briefly, staring into your eyes. "I never thought I would get to have this - have you - again."

"Take me," you breathed. "Please. I'm yours." Maintaining eye contact, he lined himself up and gently pushed in until he filled you completely. You both stilled, reveling in the closeness and allowing you a moment to adjust and accommodate his length. He began to work his hips, rutting up against you. The coil inside you quickly constricted again when he reached between you to rub your sensitive bud until you were finally overcome. Your walls clenched around him as you clung to him with all of your limbs, gasping his name.

After you caught your breath, you cupped his face in your hands and guided him down to kiss you. He continued to slowly grind against you, trying to postpone its inevitable end. You loosened your grip so he could pull back and gaze into your eyes.

"Timothée, I love you," you whispered as you stared into his emerald orbs.

He came undone at your confession.

<><><><><>

Chapter 10

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess, @bluizh, @jindongdongie

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

BB Season 3 Trailer Breakdown

I am very excited, as you know, for the final season of The Bad Batch. Despite its ups and downs, this show means a lot to me and I adore the characters, particularly Omega and Crosshair. So, without further ado, here we go!

The trailer starts off with the Empire pursuing the boys on a turbo tank as they escape from some sort of facility (I think). Later in the trailer, we see the same tank firing upon the Empire while they head away from wherever they are.

As Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair (he can be seen for a split second) realize that they can't get out of trouble with the tank, Phee drops in to pick them up, commenting "not exactly a stealth exit boys." This makes me wonder if the boys snuck in to get information on Hemlock or Mt. Tantiss. I also believe that this sequence with the tank chase correlates to the episode titled "Juggernaut." It makes sense to use a name meaning something big while the Batch are in a huge tank.

We then see some sort of transport (?) ship headed towards Coruscant. The next shot is of Rex and Hunter talking so maybe they're on the ship. Rex says that ending the war would mean that the clones would no longer be killed in battle. However, we see that's not the case; the clones are still used as soldiers, experiments, or left to die without a thought. The end of the Clone Wars only made things worse for them.

While Rex says this, we briefly see the palace on Teth, burning. I believe this is where we'll see Ventress as that's where we first meet her in Clone Wars. However, this is pure speculation because the only other place I can see her being is Dathomir. Then, we see a downed ship with two figures walking away from the wreckage. Based on the image of Omega desperately piloting a ship later in the trailer, I think she and Crosshair somehow managed to escape. Unfortunately, only Crosshair was able to actually get out. I think we could see this event happening between episodes 5-8.

Rex then says he was wrong about the clones' fate before we get a brief flashback to the railcar incident and Tech falling to his presumed death. Rex continues on, saying "we can't just walk away" whilst images of an imperial occupation flash by. Citizens run away in terror so this could either be Pabu, found at last, or another planet in which the Batch travel to. Rex finishes by saying "not with the Empire imprisoning the kid."

Then, we cut to images from Mt. Tantiss, including post and pre-time skip Omega. Omega walks in and sees a broken Crosshair. Since this looks like the first two are seeing each other, I think these are shots from the first episode "Confined." Hemlock is shown next saying to secure Omega in her cell. There are two Delta Squad commandos behind him. Now, I'm not sure what Omega is holding in the cell, but it looks like she's being scanned. We also see Emerie looking somewhat unhappy. Hunter says that Omega's been waiting for them for a long time and we see her pre-time skip in a cell overlooking the outside world. Perhaps this is a privilege for cooperating? Hunter also says a "long time," so I'm guessing that it's been at least a year since season 2. Hunter concludes with that the Batch's mission isn't over yet.

The next several scenes show a ship being chased (maybe the one Omega is flying?) and what I assume to be a mirrored shot of Hunter and Wrecker because of their facial characteristics being flipped. Then, we see Palpatine with Nala Se and Hemlock saying that their operation is most important to the Empire's future and Hemlock will have everything he needs. My crazy theory? He wants to build an army of force sensitive clones. Will this come true? Idk.

The Empire is seen firing upon a ship (again, the one Omega stole?) and we get a glimpse of a new antagonist, the dark armor-clad figure commanding the TK troopers. While I Initially thought it was Cross because of the helmet design, I feel like that's backpedaling on this character arc so I'm gonna say it's Tech or CX-1, a new clone we see later. If it is CX-1, then it makes sense why we hear him say that the Batch will be hunted down. I'm not sure who this is but I'll be theorizing later. Speaking of that line from CX-1, we see flashes of Fennec, Cad Bane, and Nala Se. While Cad Bane will definitely be after then, I think Fennec will help because she's spotted on the boat when Hunter almost gets eaten by an alligator.

We later see in the trailer, Hunter on Pabu, Wolffe hopefully leading an early clone rebellion, and two clones running towards a big explosion. I'm not sure what's happening, but it could happen during the "Infiltration" and "Extraction" episodes. There's also a clone with a flamethrower so it could be during the same sequence. There's one shot of Echo walking towards... the Batch, Rex... idk. We'll find out together.

Wrecker, in true fashion, asks for a "real challenge" so I think we hear this in the episode "Paths Unknown." It sounds like the Batch are trying to get money or something to pick themselves back up. There are several shots of ships flying; to where, I'm not sure. Hunter and Wrecker are also getting ready to fight. We see the same two clones from earlier in combat and Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair aiming at someone. Hunter says they're not big on following orders. This is proceeded by more shots of Tantiss, TK troopers being attacked by creatures, and troopers being shot at. Hunter tries to hijack a gunship as well. Maybe this happens during "Flash Strike" or the other action heavy episodes. We'll see.

The trailer ends with Asajj Ventress, alive and well, swinging her yellow saber as blaster bolts fly at her. She says that she doesn't plan on killing "you," but "you're" making it very tempting. She might be talking to the Batch. Based on the shot of Hunter and Wrecker, maybe they ask her for information on Tantiss or she is hunting them down. Idk.

Anyways, that's all I have for now. I will be doing some theories on CX-1 and the mysterious imperial as well as what I think might happen based on episode titles and Palpatine's ultimate plan so stay tuned for that!

[zoyaofthegardvn]

New Friends, Old Insecurities (2)

A/N: Finally! Here is the second and final part of New Friends, Old Insecurities :) Thanks so much to everyone that was so kind about that fic and really encouraged me to write a part 2! I hope you all enjoy <3

CW: Angst to fluff!

Read part 1 here first....

---

It's been weeks since your explosive fight with Mor, and you were miserable. Looking back on it, you decided that perhaps you had escalated things too far, too fast, too dramatically. But you were truly heartbroken, and angry, and the damage has already been done, anyway.

Gwyn and Azriel, the friends that they are, have been letting you stay with them. You had shown up on their front porch in tears, stuttering and blubbering about what happened. Gwyn had brought you inside, made you a cup of tea, while Azriel started a fire and prepared the spare room for you to sleep in, carrying your things out of the room to give you and Gwyn some time to talk.

They've been incredibly understanding, even reassuring you that you can stay as long as you need every time you mention that you're going to start looking for somewhere else to stay soon. Truthfully, you think they just don't want you to pay for a place to live alone, all too confident that you and Mor will find your way back to one another eventually.

And that's not to say Mor hasn't tried. It wasn't hard to figure out that you'd started saying with the Shadowsinger and the Priestess, and Mor even showed up, trying to persuade them to let her see you, before Azriel very firmly told her no, that you needed time.

Gwyn said Mor asked about you every single day at training. She wanted to know if you were sleeping well, if you were eating enough, if you were ready to talk yet. Gwyn merely nodded at most of her questions, but always refused to answer the last one. When you were ready was entirely up to you, and Gwyn would never say so on your behalf. Gwyn did report back that Mor looked awful, bags under her eyes, sluggish like she hadn't slept or eaten anything. She said that she stayed to herself, showing up to training late and leaving early. She didn't go to family dinners, and Rhys had stopped asking her to patrol because her heart wasn't in it. That always made your chest ache, but you weren't doing any better.

You also found out that a rift had grown between Emerie, Nesta, and Gwyn. And that made you feel guilty. You had never intended to cause something between the three, knowing how deeply they love and admire one another. You apologized several times, but during one evening that Nesta and Cassian had come over for dinner, Nes and Gwyn both explained to you that it wasn't your fault. They said that Emerie had abandoned them, too, and that they were upset with her for interfering in a mated friend's marriage. Again, you tried to apologize, tried to tell them that it didn't have to be that way, but they shot you down.

"I love Emerie, and I'm sure we'll make up, but she messed up, that's all there is to it," Nesta had told you.

"She feels bad about it, I can tell, but she has to work up the courage to make amends. We can't make her do that," Gwyn had replied.

And that was that. But still, you couldn't shake the guilt. Though, a small part of you was thrilled that Mor and Emerie had been staying away from one another.

Your days mostly consisted of reading, paperwork, lunch with Gwyn, cards with Azriel, and dinner with the pair of them, or alone if it was family night. They had offered to stay home and eat with you, but that you adamantly refused. Just because you couldn't stand to be around everyone right now didn't mean you would keep your friends stuck at home, too.

So, while you had an amazing support system, friends that rallied around you and refused to let you go through anything alone, you were still, quite frankly, miserable.

---

During the third week of staying at Gwyn and Azriel's house, you were spending another night alone, cooking a small dinner for just yourself. The pair had just left, and they'd likely not be back for several hours. So, it surprised you when you heard footsteps at the front door, before a gentle knock sounded from the foyer.

You placed the spoon you'd been stirring your pasta sauce with on the counter before making your way to the front, a confused look on your face. As far as you were aware, Gwyn and Az hadn't been expecting anyone to stop by. They would have told you.

Another soft knock makes you walk faster, and you don't think to peek out of the window before you pull the door open.

There, on the front porch, looking sheepish and a bit scared, is Emerie.

You're a bit stunned, and all you can do is gape. The stare obviously makes her uncomfortable, and she looks down at her boots, sniffing a bit before saying, "Hey."

You swallow thickly, making no move to let her into the house. "Gwyn just left, she went to th-"

"I-I'm not here for Gwyn. I came to speak to you, Y/N," Emerie replies, pulling her gaze up to look at you. She looks braced for rejection, but ultimately, you don't hate her, you don't even dislike her. But there are, of course, harsh feelings.

"I don't know that that's a good idea, Emerie..."

"Please, Y/N, I came to explain, to apologize. I-I know why you won't speak to Mor," the sound of your mate's name makes you flinch, but Emerie just continues, "I understand it, I do. But please, at least, just hear me out."

You're silent for a few moments, contemplating how to proceed. You could shut the door in her face, go inside, make your dinner. You could keep looking at apartment listings, make a plan to move the rest of your stuff out of your and Mor's once shared home. You could avoid your mate like the plague. You could never see Emerie again. You could keep ditching family dinners, live a life of loneliness. You had always been so stubborn, so determined. Even if it was about making your own life a living Hell.

Or, you could let Emerie inside. You could hear her out. Let her convince you to reach out to your wife, to go home.

You sigh, you step aside, and you pull the door open wider. "I was just making dinner. Do you like pesto?"

---

You and Emerie share a quiet dinner, bowls of pasta and glasses of wine consumed with little conversation. When you're both finished, you take the dishes and rinse them in the sink. Wordlessly, Emerie cleans up the ingredients you had laid around the kitchen, and you're reminded that she's been here before, several times. Gwyn is her best friend, and you're not the only one here that's lost someone important.

When the kitchen is tidy, you make your way towards the living room, gesturing for Emerie to follow.

"I suppose this is the part where we talk, huh?"

Emerie nods, sitting in the chair closest to the fireplace while you sit on the edge of the couch.

Again, silence fills the room. But eventually, Emerie clears her throat and begins. "I think that first, I just need to apologize." She shifts so her body is facing you, she makes eye contact even though you can tell she feels a bit embarrassed. "I am so, so sorry for how I interfered with your marriage. I never had any intentions of breaking the two of you up, I truly hope you can believe me. I-I feel like I've done something... awful, and I am just... I-I'm so sorry."

You dip your head, trying not to cry. "Thank you, Emerie. I... I believe you."

She sighs, like she was expecting you to call her a liar, to kick her out. But you can tell that she's sincere, and you know her well enough that you don't think she'd ever want to or try to be a homewrecker. That just isn't her intent.

"And Emerie, truthfully... I don't want you to feel so awful."

She looks at you, confused, but before she can speak, you continue.

"Mor neglected me as a mate, as a wife. Yes, you encouraged her, certainly, but Mor chose to do what she did all on her own. You can't shoulder the blame for our failed relationship when it was her responsibility."

Emerie nods, but that guilt still paints her face. "I can't... I know it's not my place, to give you any sort of relationship advice..." She trails off and looks at you, anticipating you cutting her off, but you don't. "But Mor, she's... she's miserable. She doesn't talk to me anymore, and I don't blame her. Not many people do." And that statement breaks your heart a bit. You truly feel guilty that Emerie, likely more than you do, feels so lonely. "But I can just tell. She isn't sleeping, or eating, the only time she speaks is to ask someone about you. She.. she loves you, Y/N, adores you. You're the only person she'll ever want."

"It sure would've been nice if she had treated me that way the past few months," you spit out, your bitterness revealing itself.

Emerie flinches, but she doesn't disagree. "You're right, and I imagine she hates herself for it. A-And I know you probably don't want to hear this from me, but I never, ever had any romantic feelings for her. What I felt for Mor was strictly platonic, I swear to you. And never once did I get even the slightest idea that she felt anything beyond friendship for me. I would not lie to you about that."

And though you had tried to hold them in, the tears start falling anyway. You sniffle, quickly swiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.

"I don't know what do, then. I want to believe you, Emerie. But Gods, the way she treated me, made me feel. I can't ever go through that again."

Emerie nods, understanding and compassionate. "I know, Y/N, I know."

For a few beats, the room is silent save for your sniffling and the crackling of the fire.

"I... I'm going to stay away from her. I had already decided that when I heard about what happened between the two of you, but you should know... if it'll help convince you to reach out to her... I won't ever be a problem again. I'm going to stay away, I swear it."

You scoff. "And what happens when another female comes around to woo her? Again Emerie, I appreciate you coming here, but the problem lies with Mor. And anyway, I'd never ask you to not be friends with her. If you say friendship is all that it was, then I believe you."

"Yes, she is my friend, and I know how devastated she is to have lost you. So if it takes me staying away, so be it. I'll do it. And as far as other females go... Y/N... she would never, ever cheat on you. Do you know how much she loves you?"

You don't get a chance to respond before she continues. "You're all she ever talked about. In the mornings, she'd talk about how pretty you looked when she woke up, how she couldn't wait to see you later. When we'd be at the shop, she'd constantly talk about your studies, your work, how proud she is of you, how you've been working so damn hard. And that night... at dinner... she was telling me about how she missed you, and she was starting to get worried, because you were never late, and you never left without telling her where you were going."

Emerie's details make you start crying harder, quiet sobs shaking your shoulders as you keep trying to wipe the blurriness from your eyes.

"I-I don't know what to do," you cry, embarrassed to be so vulnerable in front of her.

Emerie stands from her chair, she moves to be beside you. Her hand falls to your shoulder, and she squeezes. "Please, just.. just hear her out. For both of your sakes."

You don't answer, and Emerie pulls her hand away. "I know you have a lot to think about, so I'll go. Again, I'm sorry for my part." She begins making her way to the front of the house, but stops to add one more thing. "Thank you... for the dinner... and for hearing me out." Then she lets herself out the front door.

---

You spent a few days mulling Emerie's words over, coming to terms with what you wanted to do. She had convinced you to talk to Mor, to try to work things out, but you just didn't know how to proceed. How to forgive and move on.

Eventually, you decided you'd speak to her at home. You wouldn't confront her in public, not when emotions are as heightened as they are. And you didn't want to invite her to Gwyn and Azriel's house, even though they would have no issue with it, you didn't want to impose on their home anymore than you already had. And truthfully, you wanted to see your house again. You wanted to be able to return to it one day.

And so, after days of contemplating, talking relentlessly with Gwyn and Az, losing sleep from the anxiety, you've finally decided to show up at your house, where you know Mor is currently at, if the candle glow from the windows were any indication.

Your hands tremble with nerves, your stomach doing flips. You debate knocking, but shake your head at the idea. This is still your house, anyway. If you keep thinking like it isn't, it'll be harder for you to see a way forward with Mor, and that's not why you came here.

However, you don't want to scare her, so you do softly rap on the wood before pushing the door open, softly closing it behind you.

You hear gentle footsteps sound from the living room, but you make no move to meet her, your nerves keeping you firmly planted in the foyer.

She stops in her tracks when she rounds the corner, and your heart sinks when you take in her form. Her hair is a mess, pulled back in a knot, some loose tangles plastered to her sweaty skin. She looks pale, her eyes bruised and sunken in. A blanket is wrapped around her shoulders, and she's dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She brings a shaky hand to her mouth that's fallen open, clearly shocked to see her wife has come home.

"Y/N?" she asks, her voice quiet and broken, like she's hardly been using it.

"Mor..."

And then she's bursting into tears, her shoulders shaking, her chest heaving as she struggles to breathe.

"Oh, Mor..." you sigh, rushing forward, grabbing her by her forearms and pulling her into the living room. You set her down on the couch, then fetch her a glass of water from the kitchen, urging her to drink it before she has a full blown panic attack.

When she comes down a bit, she sets the glass on the table, then brings her teary eyes up to look at you. "Are you h-here to get the rest of your stuff?" Her voice is muffled from her tears, her throat raw. "Did you come to... to e-e-end it o-officially?" She stutters over her words, the panic creeping up on her again.

You shake your head, sitting next to her on the couch, but keeping a bit of distance between the two of you. "No, Mor. I came to talk."

Her head whips to the side, her face in shock. Clearly, she hadn't expected you to ever hear her out. "To talk?" she asks, like she can't quite believe what's happening.

You nod. "Emerie... she came and... explained things a few days ago. She told me to hear you out... she said you're not doing well."

Mor shrugs, but she doesn't respond, like she doesn't really care about her physical and mental health. The thought stabs at your gut.

"Mor.. I-I'm done running from this. You're my mate. My wife. As hurt as I am... I've been wrong, to stay away from you for so long. So for that, I apologize. But I just... I needed tim-"

"You don't have to apologize, Y/N, please. I know why you left."

You don't argue with her, but still, you feel guilty for your part in your separation. "But still, I'm sorry."

Mor says nothing for a few tense beats, she just sniffles and wipes at her eyes.

"Can.. can we fix this, Y/N? Please? I can't... I can't lose you. Not for good. Not forever. I-I can't," Mor starts crying again, gentle, silent tears. "I won't survive it. I love you, Y/N. Please, let me try and fix this."

You reach a shaky hand out, placing it on her shoulder. "That's why I came here, Mor, to try and fix things. I came here to talk. But I think that you're the one that needs to explain things, not me."

Mor reaches her hand up to sit on top of yours. She releases a deep breath, clearly relieved to hear that you want things to work out.

"I have to start by saying I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry, Y/N."

Her words bring fresh tears to your eyes, and you try to keep them from spilling over, though it's useless.

"So why, Mor?" your voice cracks, but you keep going. "Why did you.. treat me like that? I-I want to understand."

She shakes her head. "There's nothing to understand. It was wrong, stupid, awful of me. I neglected you, I made you feel like I wasn't in love with you anymore... and even if you can forgive me, I'll never forgive myself for that."

A few more beats of silence, then Mor continues. "I want you to know, Y/N, that you're perfect for me. What you said that night... about us being mates... about it being wrong" she shakes her head like the thought disturbs her, like she's trying to rid herself of the memory. "That's not true. We belong together. I have never wished you were different. I have never wanted you to be more like Emerie, if that's what you had been thinking."

And she's right, that's exactly what you had convinced yourself she wanted. It had hurt beyond belief, but the ache lessons hearing Mor so sincerely tell you otherwise.

"I just... it had been so long since I had made a true friend, outside of the family. I have Feyre, but she's Rhys' mate before she's my friend, and she's been so busy lately, with her growing family."

"Were you not... were you not happy being my friend and my lover?" you whisper, always prepared to face the fact that you couldn't give Mor everything she needed.

She turns her whole body to face you, her features crumpling in devastation and shock.

"What?! Gods no, Y/N, no, that's not it at all. You're my best friend, and my wife. But we're not together all of the time... we.. we have our differences. Ones that I have never, ever wished didn't exist. It was just nice, to have Emerie, to have someone to talk weapons with, someone that could keep up with me in training, someone that understands what it's like to be a warrior and a female."

You could never fault her for that. Mor, after having gone through so much, deserved a friend she could relate to more than anyone.

"I... I understand that, Mor, I do. What I don't understand is why... or how she became more important than me. Than us." Your tone is firm, straight to the point.

Mor shudders, she squeezes her eyes shut in shame. "She never was. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I swear that no one has ever been more important to me than you, no relationship more important than our marriage."

You're reminded of Emerie telling you how Mor always talked about you, bragged about you, asked about you. You find yourself believing her, your anger slowly ebbing away.

"I got way too caught up in having fun with her, in being able to relate to her. It made me abandon you, neglect our relationship, and again, I am so sorry, baby."

The nickname tugs at your heart, the ease of slipping back into it.

Through tears and a shaky voice, you ask, "When you saw me... when you would come home at night, it felt like all you really needed me for was sex. Do you know how badly that hurt, Mor? To know that after you slept with me, we were going to wake up just for me to be alone again while you spent the day with her?"

Mor cries out, both of her hands coming to rest on your legs. "Gods, Y/N, I'll never forgive myself for making you feel that way. You were the only one on my mind, all day every day. When we made love, I was entirely there, with you. I missed you, every day, even if it was my own fault, I missed you. I just... I wanted to show you how badly I did, how much I loved you, through being intimate. I didn't realize what kind of message I was sending, and I'm so fucking sorry. You're so much more to me than sex, baby, you know that. I love you, I love you, I love you," then she brings one of your hands up to her mouth, planting a kiss to the smooth skin.

You take deep breaths to steady the overwhelming emotions, but the tears remain constant. Her words soothe your anxieties to some degree, but the hurt isn't entirely gone.

"I forgive you, Mor, but I don't know what to do, how to proceed."

Mor's breath catches in her throat, and she doesn't breathe for a few seconds. Eventually, she inhales, shakily, then speaks with a wavering voice. "I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you, Y/N, please give me the chance to prove to you, again, that you're perfect for me, the only person I'll ever need. Please, baby."

She sounds terrified, and you feel a bit guilty, because you hadn't meant to imply that you weren't sure if you'd able to continue being mated to her. Just that you weren't sure how to go from here, how to keep working on making this better.

"I-I don't want to... divorce.. or.. Gods forbid, break the bond, Mor, I don't." Mor shudders with relief, her shoulders relaxing, her hands start shaking a bit less.

"But, we can't just go back to before... we can't act like nothing happened. Things have to change."

"I understand, Y/N, I do. Tell me what you want from me, and I'll do it."

You huff a laugh at her eagerness, your tears finally ceasing to roll down your cheeks. You wipe your face with the back of your hand, but keep the other intertwined with Mor's.

"Well, first, I need to move back in, I guess."

Mor nods rapidly, "Yes, yes, please. I'll help you get your things. Come home, tonight, I can't stand being here without you."

You give her a soft smile, one that she returns. "Okay, we can do that."

She kisses your hand again, rubbing along your knuckles with her thumb.

"But, I don't think..." Mor looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue your train of thought. You clear your throat and begin again. "I-I don't think I'm ready for us to be.. intimate.. again. I-I'm sorry, I just need time, and I nee-"

"Don't apologize, Y/N, it's not necessary and I don't deserve it." Her voice is stern, and it shuts you up immediately. "I told you that you're not just sex, baby. I'll wait as long as you need. All I want is you, back home, with me, in whatever capacity you'll have me."

You nod, a bit stunned by how sincere she is, and relieved that she isn't upset with your decision.

"And, things have to be different. You have to spend time with me again, Mor. I won't be treated like that again." She nods while you talk, and it makes you grow more confident as you assert your needs. "Mornings belong to us again, and you'll speak to me, read with me, before we go to bed. You'll go into town with me, we'll go on dates several times a week, and we'll sit together at family dinner, every single time." Mor's smile grows, like she's proud of you for your demands, demands she would never dream of protesting, demands she craves, too. "You'll speak to me when you see me, you'll kiss me hello and goodbye, you'll ask me how my day was and you'll tell me about yours, even if it's something you think I can't relate to." Mor hums, she nods, she says, "Of course, my love," but you're not done yet. "You're my wife, Mor, my mate. But you're my best friend, too. You'll have to treat me as such again, if this is going to work."

Mor wastes no time agreeing. "Yes, to all of it, a million times, yes. I was a fool for not doing those things these past few months, it's a mistake that will never happen again, I promise you, Y/N." She leans in, and when you don't pull away, she presses a soft kiss to your lips. It feels like coming home, like everything falling back into place. She pulls back, cupping your cheeks with both of her hands. She stares into your eyes, an act of intimacy you can't, won't shy away from. "I'd do anything for you, give you anything, all the time in the world, if you wanted it. I love you, Y/N, and I'll forever be grateful for you, for this second chance you've given me."

You grin, then it's your turn to kiss her. "I believe you, Mor, I really do."

---

A/N: Ahhh! Part 2 is finally done! Once again, thank you so much to everyone that encouraged me to write the continuation, and all the enthusiasm you showed me! I really really appreciate all of you guys <3 I hope this part was satisfying and worth the wait :)

[bardace]

oo! oo! can i ask if you have a headcanon for how grenda and jancy met in the ghost trick au if they're not related?

(and i kinda love the idea of harper having drinking problems half because she has to steal the kitchen's wine since abayomi keeps telling her that she's got to stop flirting)

do jancy and lotta know each other in this au? is jancy covering for emery in some way or was the Contraption™️ grandma's?

and. most importantly. do you think rosé ordered two chickens from the chicken kitchen and finished both of them (less important: and also flirts with the waitress every time the bell rings for "no reason"?)

this au's SO FUN i really like it i'd love to hear any and all headcanons you have actually but this is what. i'm asking here :) no pressure to answer all/any of them im just. invested :D

YES YES YESSS THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!! I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY AU!!!

I think Grendan met Jancy because he was getting away from her parents and trying to make a new life, but they were down on his luck and needed to room with someone, and Jancy took her in.

The contraption was Grandma’s, it was for Jancy’s birthday but Sorin went in the house first because he and Jancy were working on a case together. Lotta and Emery aren’t really in this au since I’m not sure where they would fit. (I still need to figure out how the incident in the park happened.)

Rosé ABSOLUTELY ate two entire chickens from the Chicken Kitchen and flirted with Harper. She’s silly like that.

I need to make more content of this au. Especially Cabanela Joebeans.

[shadybirdwombat]

My least favorite characters in sjm are Azriel and Cassian.

Fight me lol

Azriel the tormented torturer. He has family. Has had family for years. Rhys's mom was there for both Cassian and Azriel.

Azriel saying elain shouldn't be exposed to darkness. Hello she already has been. In her human life and fae.

She can handle it like Amren says.

Amren who is still suspicious. Though she figures out weakness and strengths of people.

Azriel wants to protect. I understand his mom wasn't protected. Neither was he.

Cassian don't get me started. Someone him telling nests hold on to the headboard makes everything else ok ..

These are males that are hundreds of years older than these females.

Yet they have no idea about them.

I'm not saying Rhys is perfect. Though he's dealing with lots. Sold his body to protect his people and family. Found his mate. Watched her die. Than wanted a child. Though his Illyrian dna was going to kill her.

So it's okay for Azriel to want a blood duel over Elain. Without even asking Elain. Argue with Rhys about it.

Though Cassian not standing up to Rhys is ok. After hofas. Which I truly don't believe Rhys would have hurt nesta. Though Cassian not defending her nor Azriel. Who supposedly is her bestie.

Ember defends her and Feyre. We just didn't read about Feyre. I'm sure she threw several shoes and objects at her mate for being an asshole again.

They still have to work on their relationship. Become better brother and sister.

Which I hope the sisters become better to each other.

I'm excited for Rhys and Elain to form a sibling bond. Maybe Elain as usual will be the emissary to bring Nesta and Rhys together as siblings.

Cassian who grew up in the Illyrian camps. Who called Eris a coward. Without fully knowing what exactly goes on in autumn.

I'm sure Beron gives his sons chocolate after he beats them.

Both Azriel and Cassian grew up around males that were abusive towards female Illyrians.

Eris who stopped Keir from going to velaris. I think he cares for Morrigan. She cares for him too. They have a secret. Which Jurian may know about.

Jurian called Morrigan a liar. She didn't argue back.

Lucien lost jesminda. Lucien who was exiled from autumn. Had to fight his brothers. Kill one.

Not trying to sound like I'm comparing traumas.

Just saying Azriel and Cassian being older than most the other characters. Don't know how to deal.

I'm sure Eris and Lucien are younger than both the bats.

Azriel made me mad in silver flames.

He doesn't know what he wants.

Rhys knows Az. He doesn't want lucien or Az to die.

Enough of death. Also you know Feyre after nyx was born is giving Rhys hell.

I thought Eris and Nesta would actually conquer the world together. Help others too.

Get rid of Beron.

Lucien and Elain can travel the world together.

Imagine Elain finding books for Nesta and Gwyn.

Paints for Feyre.

Spices for Emerie.

Jewels for amren.

Very nice tailored clothing that is lint resistant for Rhys

For Eris a new breed of hounds. Also nicely tailored clothing

For Morrigan any clothing colored red.

I used to be an elriel. Till my rereads.

Lucien and Elain have very similar personalities and reactions to experiences.

As Morrigan said give them time. They're not ready.

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

An idea for a Nessian au.

Nesta is a world-renowned prima ballerina who is being stalked by Tomas Mandray, an abusive ex-boyfriend who's turned obsessive. In her free time, she reads and takes self-defense lessons with her friends Gwyn and Emerie.

One night, she gets home and finds her door kicked in and a very vulgar/threatening note from Tomas beside a bouquet of fresh roses on the table.

For her safety, Rhys and Feyre set her up at their more remote house built into the side of a mountain, and Rhys also hires two of his friends, Cassian and Azriel, to be her bodyguards.

Cassian and Nesta obviously do not get along. Cassian tells her she needs to stop dancing for a bit as it draws too much attention, and Nesta refuses, making them take her to the studio every single day.

"I can't believe she's making us come here every day. Doesn't she realize how dangerous it is? He could be watching her right now!"

"I think it shows how brave she is. I mean, yes, she's scared, but she's also refusing to let him control her life.

"....Fine, I'll admit she's brave for going on with her life as normally as possible, but it's still really stupid that she's making us stand out in the hall like this. How are we supposed to protect her if we can't even see her?"

"Well, what did you expect, Cassian? After you spent the last two classes glaring daggers at Eris and making the entire room feel uncomfortable, I'm surprised she let you come along at all."

"Eris... I don't trust that guy. Don't like the look of him."

"You don't like the look of him, or you don't like the way he looks at her?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Az?"

"He's her dance partner, Cassian. It's perfectly natural that they have a certain level of chemistry, and if we were guarding any other woman, you'd be more than capable of making the distinction between a dance partner and an actual threat. When it comes to Nesta Archeron, you let your personal feelings get in the way and that can be dangerous..."

One night at the house, Cassian can't sleep and goes to the home gym but finds Nesta already there, warming up.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. You?"

"I'm good, I just couldn't sleep."

"So, what? You figured a workout would help?"

"Well, I usually go for a drive, but I can't leave you."

"I don't need you to babysit me. I don't even know why Rhys hired you, I can take care of myself."

Cassian challenges her to a sparing match to test her self-defense technique, and a whole lot of tension happens. He tells her she has promise, but he can train her to be better.

A few months go by, and Nesta is preparing to dance the lead role in an upcoming performance. Cassian and Azriel are teaching her how to handle weapons, and she and Cassian have also started sleeping together.

The performance is only a day away, and Nesta is in her dressing room when a bouquet of roses gets delivered. There's been no sign of Tomas since he broke into her house months ago, so she thinks the flowers are from Cassian until she sees the note that's attached.

"I can't wait for tomorrow night. Love, Tomas."

She drops the vase, glass and water spilling everywhere, and Cassian and Azriel rush in. They immediately take her back to the house, and Cassian tells her she's not leaving again until they find Tomas. Nesta is furious, the performance is tomorrow, she can't just quit.

"Maybe we should let her dance, Cassian. I mean, if she's there, he will be too. It'd be easier to catch him that way."

"No! There's no way in hell we're using her as bait!"

"I agree with Azriel. I made a commitment to the company-"

"And I made a commitment to keep you safe!"

"I have dedicated my life to dancing, Cassian! I refuse to sacrifice that because of him!

"If you go on that stage tomorrow, you'll be risking your life!"

"And if I don't, I'll be risking my career! My passion!"

"I'd much rather my girlfriend lose her career than her life!"

Nesta stares at him for a moment, stunned that he called her his girlfriend, and then her eyes go cold.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Cassian. I am not your girlfriend. I'm fucking you, I'm not with you. You can't tell me what to do!"

The next night, Nesta takes the stage, and Cassian and Azriel watch from the wings. Nesta hasn't spoken a word to Cassian since the previous night, and he's upset but also can't take his eyes off her. He's completely mesmerized by her. After the performance, Azriel goes to check the perimeter again and give Cassian a chance to talk to Nesta alone, but when Nesta sees him, she turns in the other direction and finds Gwyn and Emerie waiting for her with flowers.

Cassian decides to give her a moment alone with her friends, but Nesta uses that as an opportunity to sneak away. The girls celebrate by stopping by a late night cafe, buying all the cakes and pastries they can carry and driving a few hours away to Emerie's cabin for the weekend.

Cassian and Azriel are losing their minds trying to figure out where Nesta went, but then Cassian gets a text from a blocked number that shows a picture of Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie gagged and bound.

"If you really cared about her like I do, you never would have let her out of your sight."

Tomas followed the girls to Emerie's cabin and is now holding them hostage.

"I wanted to sweep you off your feet directly after your performance, but those two guard dogs got in the way. It all worked out, though, just as I knew it would. We were always meant to be together, Nesta."

Nesta starts cussing him out as best she can with the gag still in place. And Tomas starts laughing.

"Now don't start that up, Nesta. You'll give your friends the wrong impression of us."

He leans down and removes the gag long enough to kiss her, and she bits his lip so bad he starts bleeding. Tomas, completely unconcerned, makes a comment about how he's always loved her fire. Then says he has to go into town for a bit for extra supplies since he didn't plan on he and Nesta entertaining guests so soon.

As soon as he's gone, Gwyn jumps up, free of her restraints. This entire time, she's been slowly working herself free with a knife she always has on hand, and she immediately cuts the other girls loose.

"We have to get out of here."

"How? He took the car and our phones."

"We could walk to the town, but it's two hours away by car and even longer on foot. He'd probably find us before we got anywhere safe."

"My family's owned this cabin my entire life, I feel comfortable enough in the woods that I think we could hide out there for a while."

"OK. The woods, then. We'll be safe there until Cassian can find us."

The girls hide out in the forest for a day or two. In that time, Tomas started hunting them, and Cassian and Azriel have tracked the location from the blocked number so they show up and also take to the woods.

Gwyn hurts her leg, and Tomas is nearby.

"Oh, Nesta! Come on out, sweetheart! You know we're supposed to be together, so stop fighting it!

Nesta realizes they won't get away before he finds them, so she urges Emerie and Gwyn to go without her.

"We're not leaving you alone! That guy's psycho!"

Nesta continues to push them to leave, saying Gwyn needs a doctor and that as long as she's with them, Tomas won't stop.

"It's me he wants. You two go, get to safety. Find Cassian. I'll hold him off in the meantime."

They agree, and Gwyn hands Nesta her small knife before she and Emerie shuffle off into the trees.

Nesta waits in a nearby clearing, knife in hand, waiting for Tomas to show himself.

"I found you."

Meanwhile, Emerie and Gwyn are rushing back to the cabin as fast as they can and run into Azriel and Cassian. They explain where Nesta is in the woods and that Tomas wasn't far behind. Cassian bolts into the trees, and Azriel checks on the girls.

"...it doesn't seem like the bone is broken."

"Great! Now let's go help Nesta."

"You can barely walk."

"You and Emerie will help me. Besides, I don't need a working leg in order to punch that creep right in his creepy face!"

Cassian is running through the trees like his life depends on it, while Nesta stares down Tomas, who is circling around her like a hunting predator.

"If you touch me, I'll castrate you and shove your pathetic excuse for a dick down your throat."

"Oh, Nesta, always teasing. You know you won't do anything to me, sweetheart, you love me too much."

"I don't love you, Tomas. I never did, and I never will!"

Tomas hesitates, his eyes, previously filled with deranged affection, flash with deadly rage.

"And who do you love Nesta? That pathetic guard dog you've been screwing?"

He takes a step towards her, and she raises the knife.

"Take another step, and I will kill you."

Tomas laughs mockingly, "Do you really think that you, a sweet little ballerina, can actually hurt me?"

"Yes. Because my boyfriend taught me well."

Nesta lunges forward and stabs Tomas in the stomach right as Cassian comes bursting through the trees and screams her name.

They run to each other

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but Emerie and Gwyn are-"

"We're right here!"

Gwyn comes through the trees a moment later being supported on each side by Azriel and Emerie.

"What are you doing? I told you to run."

"We did run. And then we came back."

Nesta wraps her arms around herself, the shock and stress of everything finally getting to her. Cassian puts an arm around her, drawing her close, and suggests they head back to the cabin. Once their there, the girls shower, eat, and rest, then Azriel drives Gwyn into town to see a doctor. Once they return to the cabin, an ambulance is called for Tomas.

Tomas is sent to the hospital under police supervision, but it's very unlikely he'll survive considering his stab wound was left unattended for a few hours and may be infected due to someone, Emerie and Gwyn, poking it repeatedly with muddy sticks.

Azriel, Emerie, and Gwyn are asleep, but Cassian and Nesta have stayed up and are talking in front of the fire.

"You were incredibly brave today, Nesta. I'm just sorry he ever got that close to you."

"It's not your fault, Cassian. You tried to keep me home, and I wouldn't listen. Then, at the show, I snuck away and-"

"It's not your fault either. No one is to blame but him, and he's never going to bother you ever again. You made sure of that."

"Thank you, by the way, for teaching me how to wield a knife."

"You're welcome.... So, your boyfriend taught you well?"

"Shut up, Cass."

"Make me, Nes."

They kiss.

As always, if anyone wants to use this as a prompt, please feel free. I don't have the talent to write out an actual fic.

[litnerdwrites]

Anybody else wondering how she's going to create a new trove? Last time I checked, neither the house, nor the library had a blacksmith built into it, and I doubt that blacksmith who brought the swords to him would be willing to let her into his shop again, much less near the forge. If Amren's that worried, just order the blacksmiths of the NC to ban her.

Beyond that, it's not like Nesta makes a habit of cooking for them, so she doesn't need to worry about death by toast. Or does she think Nesta's going to sew a deadly dress? Or write a murder book?

Not telling her would cause more problems, because they'd have no way of knowing what she creates and where it might end up. Isn't having trove items roaming around, possibly in the hands of civilians or enemies without realising more dangerous?

What if a friendship bracelet she makes is accidentally imbued with some dangerous magic, not the diy airtag type it was in the book, and either Emerie or Gwyn take it? What if that bracelet is lost/stolen in Illyria, and now a trove item, weapon or no, is with some random Illyrian, who probably don't like Rhys. Or that bracelet could be lost on one of her trove snatching missions, meaning it winds up with Bryallin or in The Prison.

What if she makes a cake, or sweets, or spice blendds with Gwyn & Emerie that they share with other priestesses or, again, take to Illyria. Then there's the issue of imbuing objects, since she didn't build the HOW herself, but she still brought it to life. What if she, unknowingly, does that to other weapons she uses in training, or books?

When she finally goes back to the city (because even those who delude themselves into thinking HOW was rehab and not abuse, can make the argument that keeping her there forever is in any way sane, and if they can, then they're walking red flags imo), they'd have no way to track what she makes, or where it ends up, since even she wouldn't know.

Then there's the emissary issue. Since they want to consider her their emissary (regardless of how bs it is without proper procedures), they have to send her to other places (shocker), and if she creates things without knowing, they'd wind up in foreign countries, and someone would eventually figure out she could make them, putting her in more danger. Even if Nesta doesn't become emissary, she's likely to want to leave at some point, since she expressed her desire to travel to Feyre at one point. Meaning that they're options would be to hold Nesta prisoner, or let her go with that risk to her life and their court.

A risk that would decrease if Nesta knew because she'd then be able to personally keep track of what she makes, if she does make anything, intentionally or not. Anything she suspects she made, she could bring back (not that they deserve whatever she made, but from the 'protect the nc from outside threats' perspective), or she could hide them.

Ultimately, not telling Nesta what she can do causes more problems than it solves, and that's putting aside the ethics of restricting her bodily autonomy and manipulating her this way. If they don't tell her, then short of locking her up forever, they can't contain or control the potential spread of this hypothetical trove. (I wouldn't put it past them to lock her up though).

There is no way Amren isn't just pulling concerns from thin air just to spite Nesta, because no level headed, concerned for court security person, would overlook these issues. Hell, I'm socked Azriel, who's whole job is to maintain court security, didn't point this out.

[stars-n-spice]

Thoughts on s3 ep 12!

Ooh boy, finally got the chance to watch this baby, y'know how it goes: spoilers and inconsistent, incoherent screaming under the cut-

Ayo when the FUCK are we going to get a Clone X reveal HUH???

TANTISS BASE I HATE YOUR UGLY ASS OHHH MY GOD

Emerie seeing Omega again :(

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're safe" - "Am I?" FUCK

PUTTING OMEGA IN THE VAULT?? okay but I want to see her interact with all the other kiddos :(

Emerie is so going to do something to help the kids and I'm so scared it'll end with her sacrifice

THEY STILL HAVEN'T EXPLAINED LIKE,, EMERIE AS A WHOLE LIKE, HELLO??

SO MANY QUESTIONS?? SO LITTLE EPISODES LEFT???

Hemlock I hope you choke

EUUGHHEHH so happy they didn't time skip so upset that they didn't show us the conversation Crosshair had to have with Wrecker and Hunter about what happened to Omega but like,, I'm disappointed but not surprised

The angst potential and then it was just,,, Wrecker being grumpy and Hunter being like, "okay, well let's just move on and figure something out"

I mean, I guess I'm happy they aren't fighting or whatever but still

fuck,, Crosshair's hands,,, I was just waiting for one of them to like,, grab them or something like,,

Crosshair not telling them he knew somewhat how to get to the base because he's terrified of going back

baby what the FUCK did they do to you there???

aaahh,, that whole conversation was painful

ALSO IS IT JUST ME OR IS HUNTER GETTING SMALLER??

Every time he's in frame with his brothers he seems to shrink?? Like after this episode I went back to watch random clips from the earlier seasons in Korean and Hunter didn't look as small/short as he does now???

Tell me I'm not going crazy,, I swear this man gets shorter everytime I see him and his waist gets skinnier

PHEE AND CROSSHAIR INTERACTION FINALLY!!!

"Sparkling personality" IM-

HEY THOSE HIDDEN PASSAGES WOULD'VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW ABOUT FUCKING LIKE,, THREE EPISODES AGO!!!!!

waauughhh I love Phee's ship,, the colors the shapes,, it's like a little fishy or something,, fucking love it

FUCKIN ADMIRAL RAMPART!?!?!? i was not expecting that

Burst out laughing when they showed his face though,, and for some reason I thought he looked like Jordan Klepper

Was absolutely cracking up over all the interactions between Rampart and the boys,, fucking,, manhandling him like a rag doll?? The banter between him and Cross? fucking gold

PHEE'S PILOTING??? OMG - Hera would've loved it

Also love how she gave them like,,, zero warning,, not even a "Hey, you might wanna strap in" I love her

I love Phee I love her I love her I love her

My jaw was like,, on the floor the entire time they were in that transport,, the fucking animation,, the action,, all of it aaggghh

Even my mom's cat who is an absolute menace stopped biting me for once to sit and watch that whole scene

"Wrecker, remember plan 55?" - "*silence* OH yeah!!" - WRECKER MI VIDA

wonder what the fuck Rampart is yapping about

I MISS ECHO SO MUCH WHAT THE FUCK

BRING HIM BACK WE'VE GOT LIKE. WHAT?? THREE EPISODES?? FOUR EPISODES LEFT??? AND HE'S HAD LIKE LESS THAN TEN MINUTES OF SCREEN TIME??? FCKING HELL WHAT THE FUCK I'M AAGUUGHHHH

this episode wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be and idk if that was a good thing or not

Disappointed, yet not surprised, but I still had fun <- could literally be applied to a lot of TBB episodes

but like,,

auughhhhhhh

I can't believe it's almost over

[protect-daniel-james]

WIP asks: what is your oldest? What is the one you will probably never finish?

Omg, do unfinished chaptered fics count?

AO3 tells me the oldest non-finished chaptered fic is Silent Freeway, an Alex Turner/Miles Kane fic from ancient times. I am kinda ashamed of it now, because ultimately it was too much for me to write about - I chose the light topics of mental health and psychosis with my poor English skills, and obviously it was a pain in the ass to write in the end. I wasn't brave enough to go back and read it but I can imagine the shit I wrote back in 2016 in English. It was too much drama for the sake of drama, no characterisation, no reasonable behavior... I will definitely never finish that one. I'm not that much into Milex, and the whole story seems childish today.

Fun fact - it has over 11 000 words making up 11 chapters. Yes, 11 chapters. Which means about 1 000 words per chapter (I was so proud of it back then, lmao). Good old days. Nowaydays I write a 11 000 word fic about Inzaghi brothers fucking.

WIP which I might actually finish one day is definitely Let's fade together, let's fade forever. No football. Historical Figures RPF combining two of my favorite fruity couples from late 18th century, Alex Hamilton/John Laurens and Frederick II/Hans Hermann von Katte. As the tag says, I imagine Heaven as a waiting room. A waiting room where Laurens and von Katte meet and talk and wait for their loved ones. I think it was a nice lil' idea, a fic that became known as "sad gays in heaven". Yeah, it is still rather naive and silly looking back, but I am still quite proud of that one. It's literally missing one chapter.

My problem is I get too excited about a new thing, and I am able to produce quite quickly a new fic when I am excited. A planned out multichaptered fic even. But then, the excitement fades - either because I find a more interesting new thing, or because the response is non-existent, and I see that something I was excited about and cared about isn't really interesting "to the outside". Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one to count kudos and comments because I know that the ships and themes I write about are very niche (I am well aware that if I write a Pedri/Gavi fic, it would get to 200-300 kudos, if I write a Grizione fic, it would be around 50, but if I write about Unai Emery, there will be like 5) - but even with this awareness, if a fic I truly was excited about doesn't really get a response, I just don't feel motivated to prioritise it, work on the next chapter, or write something about the pairing again (unless it's Unai and Football, because those fics I take as a form of experience, exploration, and almost academic work so I don't care if y'all aren't reading those; they are for me to explore the unexplored. although it's nice when people read and comment on them, and want to discuss its topics, obviously).

When it comes to unpublished WIPs, I don't really have many of those because I tend to start my WIPs when excited and then I usually work quickly (unless it's literally a 10 000+ words fic like the yacht fic or like the Inzaghicest one might be). One that I promised to do was a Henderson/Stevie G in Saudi Arabia engaging in bad, sleazy, desperate sex because they have no clue what they are doing there, but I haven't really started to work on that.

I started working on a Mourinho/Abramovich fic (with a flavour of Abramovich/Sheva).

"Mr. Abramovich - " José made a significant pause, spread out his hands over the edge of the desk that separated him from the addressed man. "I know you like him. Is easy to see." For a moment not a single muscle in Abramovich's face moved. Then, his eyebrows rose up, and he tilted his head, smiling; not just smiling but amused at such a simple yet daring statement. "Is it?" he asked, although José wasn't completely sure about the wording. It might have been just a simple, bemused repetition of the word he himself used to describe his reading of the situation - easy.

I think it's now the oldest actual draft that I have, but it's only 2 months old lmao. As I said, I finish my fics pretty quickly (after all, I usually write directly in AO3 - believe me, I did regret it a few times), and the one month due date on drafts works miracles.

[cc-cobalt-1043]

I'll help the best I can

Emerie Karr prided herself on being a smart scientist. Her skills had helped civilians and clones alike during the war and she felt that whatever project she worked on was for the greater good.

However, this project was different...very different. Project Necromancer was far different from anything she'd worked on before, and she hated it.

Emerie greatly disliked that Hemlock was using children for this project, children who should be with their families and enjoying their lives now that the clone wars was far behind.

Yet Emerie found herself watching over five young children, all of whom were very much in the dark about what they were being used for.

Emerie had been told by Hemlock not to get attached to the children, but very quickly realised these kids (particularly Eva) had grown rather  fond in her eyes.

Eva was the only one who seemed to truly trust her. The youngest was barely a couple of years old and didn't even seem aware of where he was, the pantoran (she still hadn't told Emerie her name) as well as Jax were both very cautious of her and kept their distance, however the 5th subject, (a young human boy who couldn't have been much older than eight or nine years old) seemed to keep away from her as much as possible.

Emerie supposed she couldn't blame him, however he seemed to be struggling with an issue and try as she might Emerie couldn't figure it out.

It didn't help that the boy refused to talk to her when she asked, now that she thought of it, he hadn't said a word since Emerie had arrived.

A couple of weeks after Emerie had began watching the children, she heard what sounded like crying coming from one of the cells.

Thankful the guards had left for the night Emerie went into the cell where the children were being kept.

Eva and the others were asleep but then Emerie noticed the other boy.

He was curled up on his bed, his face hidden in his hands and his body shaking as he sobbed.

Quietly Emerie approached until she was directly behind him.

"SP-21?" She asked cautiously.

The boy looked at her, tears welling in his dark blue eyes, but he tried to wipe them away.

"That's not my name." The boy said, his voice slightly raspy, likely due to lack of use.

"What is it then?" Emerie asked curiously.

"Joey, Joey Stryker." The boy said.

Emerie nodded.

"Well Joey...if I may ask, what's wrong?" Emerie asked handing him a handkerchief to wipe his eyes with.

Joey thanked her and wiped his eyes.

"I miss him?" Joey said after a moment.

"Who?" Emerie asked.

"My twin brother." Joey said.

That feeling Emerie could relate too, even though their relationship was never that good, Emerie did miss Omega.

"What is his name, I may know what happened to him?" Emerie asked.

"Daniel." Joey simply nodded.

Emerie nodded and typed something into her datapad.

"From what it says here he escaped imperial custody, several weeks ago now, alongside a Mandalorian." Emerie said.

"That would be Boba." Joey said.

"As in Boba fett?" Emerie asked.

"You knew him?" Joey asked.

"Not very well, but I did see him, I was transfered to another facility not long after he was created." Emerie said.

Joey nodded.

"Well my brother and I know him rather well, he's been like an older brother to us." Joey said.

Emerie simply nodded, not sure what to say to that.

Emerie studied Joey meticulously, he looked oddly familiar to her, but she couldn't figure out why.

"Joey, are you a clone?" She asked.

Joey nodded.

"Yeah, of clone commando Cobalt, he's our father." Joey nodded.

He looked at her curiously.

"Why?" He asked.

"It's just, when I was younger I cared for a pair of twin clones, apparently they were an attempt at another batch of force sensitive clones, obviously you're force sensitive, is your brother?" She asked.

Joey shook his head.

"No, he isn't." Joey said.

Emerie nodded.

"Well, I'm afraid I'll have to go for now Joey, maybe when I return you can tell me more about you and your brother, if that's alright." Emerie said.

Joey simply nodded.

Emerie got up and started heading to her quarters, she had a lot to think about.

[aurumatom]

15 questions for 15 friends!

I was tagged by @emery-matsushita-vt & @lilithsaga !

Are you named after anyone?

Legally, in a way? My legal initials are the same as my late grandpas and I believe that was done on purpose. However, my chosen middle name is the same as his first name so he's still in my name.

When was the last time you cried?

I don't remember, maybe last week or the week before?

Do you have kids?

Does my dog count?

What sports do/have you played?

I did dance as a kid! I also played soccer and I started to learn ice skating in my teens but fell off of it. I'd love to get back into ice skating and turn it into figure skating though.

Do you use sarcasm?

All the time. I'm the king of sarcasm.

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Either their hair or their face? Or if they have a cool article of clothing, accessory, etc, I'll recognize them for that.

What's your eye color?

On my model, red and pink. Irl, green.

Scary movies, or happy endings?

Happy endings! I don't usually do well with horror.

Any talents?

I recently learned that I can do a Mr. Crocker voice impression. I also sing but I have to work to get my voice back since starting testosterone.

Where were you born?

That is for me to know and not for you to find out!

What are your hobbies?

Cosplay, gaming, streaming, art, listening to music, watching shows. I wanna get into more active hobbies though.

Do you have any pets?

Yes! I have a dog and his name is Max and I love him so much. I can go for hours about him.

How tall are you?

Not tall.

Favorite subject in school?

Mandarin Chinese! It was my best class and I had so much fun learning the language. I loved every second of it but I sadly lost most of my skills. I wanna be able to brush it off and be able to hold beginner conversations again.

Dream job?

I'd rather keep that private,,,

@marvellovelacevt @pink1027 @screaming--axolotl @torstenerikssonvt @irisahivt @yukelumi @harlequinhex @mintlilaq @yourbelovedissy @parasocial-work @slash-gallagher @yuzu-adagio @overlord-jarvis @seadragonaniciavt @mouwuma

Apologies if anyone has been tagged before! I had to search through my list to find some mutuals lol