#Reading the chapter makes me feel like I'm high on something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sidthedollface2 · 13 days

Text

Something Borrowed (Part 2)

Read part 1 here

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (Rhys sister)

Series summary: Rhys tells Azriel to back off Elain and find release at a pleasure hall. Instead, Azriel finds you, Rhys' younger sister.

Chapter Summary: Right after we find Azriel and Elain in a compromising position, Azriel tries to smooth things over only to drive you further away. Feelings escalate when Azriel sees another male touching you.

Word count: 5k

Series Warnings: MDNI 18+, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, smut (p in v, oral) no use of yn, nicknames, fighting, jealousy.

A/n: Thank you for all the love on part 1, I really appreciate all the comments, likes, and reblogs. This is part 2 of Something Old Something New. Please read that first, this ch continues right where we left off. I’m sorry it took so long to make this part. I’ve decided to make it a mini-series so expect 2 or more parts. It’s not over till I say it’s over. I'm a daydreamer, not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Rhys clenched his jaw tightly at the scene in front of him. His brother, a broken shell of a male on his knees, pleading for a love that would never be his. “Azriel, my office now! The rest of you go back to your chambers,” he commands, jerking his head towards his office. Azriel stands, wings dragging behind him as he makes his way towards his inevitable demise.

Rhys enters behind Azriel, closing the door to his office with a wave of his hand. “How dare you disobey me. Not only was my demand about Elain ignored, but you went behind my back to court my sister and then decided to break her heart! I told you to go to a fucken pleasure house to get laid not to fuck my baby sister! ” Rhysand yelled, fury evident in how this neck strained from raising his voice. Azriel lowered his head in shame. “I should kick your ass right now, but your lucky Vi said not to, now sit. I’m not done with you yet.”

Rhys gestures to one of the armchairs that are placed in front of a very large bookcase. A round table sits between the two chairs, an intimate setting for friends to converse. Or for a High Lord to intimidate and test his guest. Azriel would know of such tactics, he’s been a witness to Rhysand's techniques.

Two glass cups with amber liquid are placed on the table, followed by its luxurious bottle. A bottle Azriels never seen before. Rhys catches his curiosity, “I hide the good stuff. This one's aged 50 years.” Azriel’s mouth waters. Of course, Rhys would keep the expensive stuff in his stash.

Rhys takes the seat across from his brother, his gaze piercing into him from above the rim of his glass. “Drink.”

Azriel eyes the glass in front of him. Temptation stared back at him in the form of delicious whiskey. He could really use a drink right now, to cure the hatred that he's brought upon himself.

He opens and closes his mouth, suddenly parched and wanting to soothe the dryness in his mouth.

“I’ll have some water.”

“Good choice,” Rhys hums in approval, and the house magically delivers Azriel’s water. Silence falls between them. The ticking of a grandfather clock is the only sound heard, counting down by the second. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Each male waiting for the other to break the silence. Azriel takes a sip from his glass, hands shaky as he brings the cup to his lips.

“Care for a smoke?”

Azriel chokes on his water, “sorry?” He questions wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, unsure if he’s heard correctly.

“Mirthroot, to ease the tension,” Rhys clarifies, indeed offering Azriel the drug that he smoked earlier, minus the hallucinogen. With a trick of the hands and some magic, the cigarette appears between Rhys’s fingers, bringing it to his lips, its cherry blazing red. He inhales. His chest expands with how deep he aspirates, holding the fumes within his lungs. Slow and calculated he exhales. Swirls of white smoke leave Rhys lips, landing directly into Azriels face. Its white tendrils carve through his wavy hair, coating each strand with its foul scent. A Lingering reminder of his mistakes.

Azriel swipes his hand in front of him, ridding the air of the smoke surrounding him. A slight cough erupts from his throat, “no, uh, I recently had a bad experience.” Azriel tries to joke, but it lands flatly based on Rhys' stone-cold expression.

“Azriel, what do you think your punishment should be for making my sister run away from her court?”

Oh, straight to it then.

“I do love her, Rhys. She's breathtaking in every way and I don’t deserve her.”

“No, you don’t!” Rhys bellowed, slamming his glass down on the table. “What. Is. Your. Punishment?” He seethed.

“Death. Because I can’t live without her, I deserve it knowing I’ve hurt her. That I’ve betrayed you and your trust. I’ve lied to you, taken your brotherly love for granted. I’ve killed for much less.” Azriel slouches in his seat, defeated but willing to take whatever his punishment shall be.

“You must truly love her then if you're willing to die. But I find that to be too swift of a punishment. Will torture suffice?”

Azriels eyes snap to his brother, a look of shock and slight terror in his hazel eyes. This wasn’t his brother anymore, but the words of a High Lord. A cunning, cruel High Lord.

Azriel doesn't say a word, he simply nods. Accepting his fate.

“Very well. You will watch over my sister. You will shadow her every move, her every outing. You will not speak with her or make yourself known. You will observe her interactions with other males. If she happens to love someone else then you will witness their beginning, middle and end. You will endure her loving someone else while she falls out of love with you. That will be your punishment. If you love her, truly, you will see her happy, even in the arms of another.”

Azriel swallowed the knot in his throat, shoving down the emotion that was a breathds away from coming forward. His eyes failed to meet his High Lord as he took a moment to process the terms. A slight sheen was coating his forehead, heat climbing up his spine at the thought of you with someone else. Clenching and unclenching his fists, his nails dug into his palms, creating half-moon shapes on his rough skin.

He did want to see you happy, and in love. You deserved it more than anyone he knew, but not with someone else. Azriels mind flashed back to every tender moment you two shared. Every soft touch under the table, away from prying eyes. Each stolen kiss when the two of you were last in leaving meetings. Morning snuggles after a night of intimacy before he snuck out of your bedroom. Flying together under the stars, in the middle of the night when the rest of the Velaris was sound asleep. He could keep those moments to himself, call upon them when he missed you. It’ll break his heart watching you fall out of love with him, but that was the whole point. And that's what Rhys meant by torture. It would happen slowly, painfully peeling the layers of his heart back piece by piece till nothing remained.

His refusal was on the tip of his tongue, “I can’t….” He shook his head, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. Letting out a shaky breath, “can I at least apologize without an audience, before I begin this punishment?”

Rhys nodded and flicked his wrist, dismissing his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel knocked on Elains bedroom door, determined to explain himself and confront her.

Her beaming smile when she opened the door caught him off guard. Was she happy? Happy for his misery?

“Hi Az,” she smiled wide and stepped aside to let him in. “No, I don’t want to give the wrong idea. I’ll be quick.” Azriel sighed, running his hand through his tousled hair. He winced as Elains scent off his fingers made its way to his nose. Reminding him that he needed to shower before he spoke to you. “Elain, I’m sorry for-”

“I’m not” she interrupted, her doe-like eyes staring up at him as she stepped closer. Her chest inches away from pressing against him. “The only thing I’m sorry for was the interruption and not bringing you to completion. I liked doing it, I wanted more,” she confessed, attempting to close the distance.

“What the fuck Elain!” Azriel's voice boomed as he jerked back, putting distance between them, hoping to get his point across that he did not reciprocate her feelings. His face twisted in disgust at her scandalous behavior. A side of her he had never seen before. He pointed his finger at her, “stay away from me.”

“You said you loved me.” Elain gulped, a tremble in her meek voice.

Azriel lowered his face to meet hers, eyes red with anger and unshed tears for the situation she put him in. “Those words were not meant for you, I feel nothing for you. And definitely not love. You know I adore her, you heard me tell her in the library and you still took advantage of my inebriation.”

“Az, I’m so sorr-”

Azriel lifted his hand, silencing her apology. He shook his head, upper lip curled in a snarl as he looked her up and down. Not even her beauty would mask the bitter taste she left in his mouth.

~~~~~~~

It was late when he finished speaking with Elain, yet every nerve in his body wanted to find you and apologize. Fix the turmoil he had created and start new. He knew it was better for you to sleep on it, let bygones be bygones. First thing tomorrow he’d reach out and smooth things over.

Azriel had been staring at your side of his bed for hours, running his hand across the empty space. He couldn't sleep without your warm body cuddled next to him. Or your soft breathing fanning across his chest. Your very soul had made a home within his heart, and he foolishly never bothered to secure the doors to keep you safe and nurture your love. You weren't a bird to be caged, but he sang your favorite song and each night you’d perch on his arm and stare into his hazel eyes with a look of love and admiration. Azriel was too scared to return the gaze. Too scared to lose the only person that brought him laughter and joy.

He buried his face in your pillow, inhaling the subtle scent of your hair that still lingered. A silent sob escaped his lips. It had been too long. He tried again, inhaling deeper, searching for those notes of magnolia and rose. Gripping the sheets tight in his fists, Azriel let his tears fall freely; your scent was fading. Loneliness followed him to bed that night. The cold of the night, a blanket holding him till he fell asleep. His heaving chest rocked him faster to the nightmares that would now plague him.

~~~~~~~

You sat in the lower levels of the library, the darkness, a familiar friend that brought you company in your solitude. The hum of Bryaxis slumber filled the air, a solemn soundtrack to accompany the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Sadness dotted the pages of the book that sat on your lap, rippled and wrinkled from the volume of your cries.

You could no longer read the pages, vision blurred and hazy. The more you researched the more it became a reality and in truth, you couldn’t stomach the thought. You’d have to visit Helion for clarification. How to undo or break it off before the other end sna-

A gentle shadow wrapped around your wrist, leaving a cool phantom kiss on your knuckles. You summoned a pocket of darkness and quickly sent the book away in a puff of black mist.

Azriel stepped out of a dark corner, concealed in the shadows like a true spymaster. “Love, I’m so fucking sorry. Please, forgive me,” he begged, as he took slow steps towards you.

“I know where I fall in your list of priorities, Azriel. You followed Rhys into his office like a loyal dog, and after that, you went to Elain and now you're here asking for forgiveness?”

Azriels brows furrow, questioning how you knew when you ran out of the house. “Your shadows,” you reply, already knowing his thought process- it seems they’ve betrayed their own master in favor of you. “They’ve told me everything. What you did with Elain and what you did after.”

“Did they tell you how much I love you? How much I crave you?” he cooed softly.

You shook your head. Those words were everything you wanted to hear ‘I love you,’ yet as your head moved side to side, you weren't sure if it was because you didn't believe the words or because It was too late. You wanted to believe him, fall into his arms, and easily forgive.

But your breathing quickens as your memory takes you back to last night. Azriels head thrown back as his hips thrust into Elains mouth. The pleasure that you hoped only you brought him, was written on his face; from the warmth of another female's mouth.

“Forgiveness? I can’t give that to you, not now. Not when every time I close my eyes all I see is your betrayal. All I hear are the words that I longed for mixed with the gagging of Elains throat as she took your cock down her mouth. I’m going to need time and space to forgive you. If the time ever comes.” You look to the ceiling, eyes stinging as you try to hold back the tears, your brave face faltering in vulnerability.

Azriel kneels in front of you, begging for your eyes to meet his. “I’ll spend forever apologizing and when you're ready to forgive me I'll be here. I’ll always be here, as long as it takes.”

“I heard what you said to Cass. That I was a mistake, and a fucking rebound,” you sniffled, fighting back the tears that once again tried to break free from your waterline.

Azriel doesn't miss the way you bite at your lip, the furrow between your brows. He's hurt you. Made you feel inadequate. You had always felt not good enough. Not good enough for your father, your mother. Not good enough to become High Lady of the Night Court.

Once Feyre and her sisters came into the picture you had no place. Feyre became High Lady, Rhysands equal. Not you. Not his flesh and blood. And now Azriels words cemented that feeling. You were the doormat of The Night Court, beloved by its citizens but stepped on by those that mattered to you, and that hurt more than you could bear.

“That's not what I meant! I wanted… I want to do things right. I want us to be together, finally. No more secrets, no hiding. It was a poor choice of words, and for that I’m sorry. But you are not a mistake. If you think you are, I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you're not.”

He reaches for your hand to offer a comforting touch. To soothe the doubt within your heart. If anything else, to touch you one last time and caress the smoothness of your skin.

“Don’t touch me. Not with those hands,” you hiss, jerking your hands away and crossing your arms over your chest. A deep sadness settles over you, knowing the hurt you've caused with the double meaning of your words. You knew it wasn’t due to the scars, those hands had been touching someone else. Bringing another female to climax not even 24 hours prior.

It was that single sentence that broke the spymaster. An aching pressure was felt in his chest, growing into a mass of the insecurity he once had. He couldn't hide the quiver in his bottom lip or the way he felt his stomach cave in itself. You didn’t want him to touch you. His hands were now tainted, dare he say more now than ever before.

A soft cry pushed past his lips as the dam holding his composure finally broke. He stood up and turned his back to you. Wiping away the tears that continued to fall. You quickly followed, itching to place a hand on his shoulder, soothing the turmoil within him.

Your caring nature screamed for you to comfort him and apologize. Causing someone's pain wasn’t in your character, a stark difference from most of your family. But you retracted your hand, and wrapped them around your middle, holding yourself together.

“Do you really hate me?” Azriel whispered as he pulled out his gloves from his back pocket, sliding them on in hopes of hiding the repulsion you felt towards them.

You hesitated for a moment if revealing the truth would change anything. If it would alter the path of your relationship into one that was worth fighting for. But there was no Azriel and Vi, so you’d tell him the truth.

“I hate the way you make me feel. I hate that you embarrassed me in front of my family. I hate that you can make me laugh and cry on the same night. Most of all I hate that you didn't choose me.” You end on an exhale, rubbing your arms up and down, attempting to soothe the heartache.

“This is it then? You’re just giving up on us? Let me at least fix this mess I’ve made. I promise I’ll do better,” he pleads, running his hands through his hair, lightly pulling at the root.

You close your eyes and release a heavy sigh, “There was never an ‘us’ Azriel. As much as I wanted there-

“I want ‘us’ now,” he interrupts, closing the distance as he cups your face between his gloved hands. “Please, love. Give me this one last chance.”

Hazel eyes bore into yours pleading with every ounce of desperation in his voice, “please,” he breathes, gently nuzzling your nose with his. The puff of his breath cools the moisture on your lips, a chill that weakens your knees and for a moment you think to give in. It takes every ounce of control for you to wrap your delicate hands around his wrist and pull them away from your face. “I can’t do this,” you choke, shaking your head, trying to hold back the knot of emotion lodged in your throat as you rush past him, wiping at the lonely tears that have breached your waterline.

His happiness was fleeting, running into the arms of another. Except you didn’t. Not yet, not so soon. That was the difference, he realized. Where Azriel drowned in sorrow the moment you first left, his pain lingered on. Holding onto the pain meant; holding onto you. Holding onto what you once were. Whereas You faced the feeling head-on. You talked about what troubled you, about him, through the pain in your eyes and the wobble in your voice.

No matter how painful it was to relive, you pushed through. Felt deeply and wholly, head first into the unknown and you always managed to stay afloat. It scared him, how open you were with your feelings. Heart on your sleeve, willing to give and give. It was easy for you to love, to feel. And if you spoke of your sorrow so openly, then you’d heal faster and surely fall out of love just as quickly or worse forget him altogether.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feyre was the one to scold Rhys for his actions towards his brother. The cunning High Lord indeed had a trick up his sleeve. One that would ensure Azriel had your best interests at heart. Rhys knew all too well how loyal and dutiful Azriel was to him and he wondered how far that loyalty ran. To what end would he go to please his High Lord? Rhys knew sending Azriel to spy on you was invading your privacy. And that would only anger you if you knew. Rhysand hoped though, that Azriels love for you was stronger than the loyalty he held for his High Lord. He was wrong. Azriel took the punishment without thinking how it would affect you. How following your every move would make you uncomfortable and you’d possibly resent Azriel for agreeing to such a thing.

~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed in a blur. You had avoided the Inner circle at all costs, not quite ready to comment on the love triangle that unfolded under their nose. You tried to continue your work in Hewn City as you had been for centuries. Although the High Fae preferred you over Rhysand, you were finding it difficult to sway certain policies with Keir. You were a brilliant light in Hewn City, creating an education system that opened their eyes to diversity and understanding amongst their people. They no longer detested lesser fae, a tradition that had been extremely difficult to break. The residents were now free to travel out of the city and some even enjoyed Velaris. All the work you had done was more than Rhys could expect, yet you still felt as if you lacked purpose. It then occurred to you that perhaps you could fulfill that purpose in another court.

You winnowed back to Velaris instantly, running up the steps of the house of wind towards Rhysands office. Excitement in each step as you imagined a new opportunity at your fingertips. One that puts space between your fractured relationship with Azriel as well as a chance to step out of your brother's shadow and into your own. As soon as you opened the door to his office you stilled-causing the person who was trailing behind you to stumble into your back. Azriel straightened, careful not to touch you. “Apologies, I,” Azriel narrowed his eyes at the guest seated across from Rhys, “who are you?”

“Kit!” you blurted out, bouncing to him and embracing him in a crushing hug. Kit wraps his arms around your waist as your hands clasp around his neck. Azriels eyes zero in on where Kit’s fingers dig into your sides, noticing the small caress against your skin. And how he’s pulled your body so tight against his, relishing in your radiate beauty. Or the way his chest expands as he inhales the scent of your hair. “Good to see you again Princess. I was just talking to Rhysand about a proposition.”

Kit’s gaze lands on the Shadowsinger, “ forgive me, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Kit, son of Kallias and Vivienne of The Winter Court.” He extends his palm in a friendly greeting towards Azriel. Ever respectful and kind, just as an Heir should be. Azriel runs his eyes over the Princeling, scrutinizing every inch of the male; from his snow-white hair to his pompous pale blue shirt. Even down to how costly his shoes must have been. Seconds passed and Azriel just stared the Prince down, a challenge in his deadly eyes.

“Please excuse my spymaster, Azriel, he's recently gone through a break-up.” Rhysand shoots a glare at the Shadowsinger with a look of disappointment.

A muscle feathered in Azriels jaw. He didn’t like this, not one bit. Kit touched you. Touched what once belonged to him. His shadows curled around his ear whispering all the ways Azriel could kill him. He saw the look in his eyes, longing and desire. Rhys no doubt divulged that break-up comment to open the doors for Kit to swoop right in.

Your eyes drop to the floor, shifting on your feet uncomfortably. Tension in the room doubled as the silence filled the awkwardness.

Kits' attention shifted to you. Noticing your downturned lips and slumped shoulders. Things must have gotten worse between you and Azriel. His icy blue eyes snapped towards the brooding male. “How unfortunate, that when you looked at her you did not feel cauldron blessed to have her. In that case, she must not have been yours to keep,” he pulled you close around the waist, “hopefully she’ll be another males blessing.” Kit smiled down at you, his dimples deep and adorable. You couldn’t help but melt into his side, his touch offering a comfort that you desperately needed.

A dangerous growl ripped through Azriels throat. He rolled his shoulders back, craning his neck from side to side, cracking the tension in his bones. The loud pop of his knuckles rang in your ears as Azriel flexed his fingers into a fist. You’d seen this rage in his eyes many times; right before hand-to-hand combat in the camps.

You quickly glanced at your brother, pleading mind to mind. "Stop this, they’ll kill each other.” Rhys sat back in his chair, legs spread wide and relaxed, "I’ll bet you all the jewels in Velaris Azriel breaks that pretty boy in two."

“Watch your mouth!” Azriel seethed, as he stalked forward, a predator hunting his prey.

Kit moved you to stand behind him, shielding you with his body. He did not back down from confrontation and did not cower. A fighter with words that will knock his opponent where it hurts the most. For wounds heal but poisonous words rot from the inside out. Latching to the mind to burrow and breed the thoughts keeping the nightmares and failures alive.

With every drop of ferocity that flowed through his veins, he struck at the jugular. Pouring salt on the wound of Azriels inferiority complex with malicious intent to hollow him out. “No Shadowsinger! You’re no Prince, nor are you a High Lord or King of any Kingdom. You do not own property and you are not wealthy. You offer nothing to a Princess but anguish and a filthy cock that's been between the legs and mouths of cheap women. You survive by the scraps your friend gives you out of pity for being a bastard born. It is you who needs to watch your tongue. It is you who needs to remember your place.”

Azriel's face was unreadable as he took the insult with his head held high. His breathing turned rapid, with every second that passed. Azriel wanted to wipe that smug look off the princeling's face and scrub the floor with his perfect teeth. Break every finger that had touched you, gouge out the blue eyes that had fantasized about you.

The second Kit took his eyes off Azriel to gawk at you. Azriel pulled Kit by the collar of his shirt, holding him in place as his hammer fist connected with his jaw over and over again. Adrenaline flowed through his body, as knuckles met solid ice beneath the flesh and blood of the heir. Blood sprayed Kit's shirt as a cut splayed open below his eye, most likely from Azriels rings. Kit's head bobbed around lifeless, blood slipping down the corner of his mouth. Azriel couldn’t stop the onslaught of his attack, as he continued to break the heir's nose with a resounding crack.

“Azriel stop!” you screamed, throwing your fist at his back, pulling at his shirt in an attempt to stop the assault. Azriel tried to stop but Kit's crimson smile taunted him each time his fist landed against his pale skin, enraging him more.

“Shit!” Rhys scrambled out of his chair, using his dark power to throw Azriel off the Prince and into the farthest wall. Crashing to the ground Azriels vision cleared, his heart sank at the image of you on the floor cradling the bleeding Prince in your arms, tending to his battered face. “Vi, I’m so sorry I.. I didn’t,-”

“You brutish Illyrian bastard, when will you stop breaking things?!” You looked at Azriel with glossy eyes and blood that wasn't yours smeared against your bosom.

“Pack the rest of your bags sister. You’ll be living in the Winter Court for the foreseeable future. Re-shaping their crumbling Agriculture and stabilizing their infrastructure for future prosperity. The work you’ve done in Hewn City is remarkable, I’m sure you’ll do great things for Kallias and Vivienne. ” Rhys gaze never left Azriel as he delivered the news to you.

‘I’m sorry Az. This was the proposition brought to me today. Vi needs this, she's no longer happy here. And as her brother, I have to do what's best for her.’

Rhys saw the tears well in Azriels eyes. If he hadn't been shattered to pieces before, then this would disintegrate him into ash. Left alone to wander the skies aimlessly, letting the wind tousle and puncture him as he reached for the sun's brightest ray of light.

“Take a good look at him, Vi, He’ll no longer be allowed in The Winter Court after today's attack,” your head whipped from Azriel to Kit, “My father will ban him from ever setting foot on his land again.” A sly grin crossed Kit’s face, victorious in his plan, “Don’t worry shadowsinger, we’re just borrowing her and I promise I’ll keep her safe.” Azriel snarled as Kit grimaced, pushing against your chest for your comforting touch.

He’d fallen into Kit's trap so easily, allowing his anger to blind him from his true intentions. He didn’t even raise his hand to deflect the blows or bother punching back. He took the punches and played victim, the scheming ice Prince. He knew how it looked. The eloquent Prince who had a future and armies at his beck and call.

A Court that he would one day rule for centuries with a palace to call his own, a throne and crown made of diamonds and sapphires. A Night Court Princess turned High Lady to warm his bed and give him Heirs to sit on his throne. Azriel couldn’t offer you any of that. He was a bastard-born Illyrian who tortured people for a living. You deserve a fulfilling life full of happiness, laughter, and love.

You were leaving because of him, and he decided then, that he wouldn’t stop you. It would make him sick, but he’d survive and the sun would rise one day. The future he dreamed of was slowly fading to black and he couldn't imagine a world without you, but you were leaving. He couldn't think of a way to stop the bleeding or to fix what he broke. He couldn’t hold you back. You were a princess, when you were meant to be a queen.

“Throw me in the prison Rhys I don’t care, but if I have to watch her fall in love with him, by the God’s he’ll die by my blade before he lays another hand on her. Punishment be damned” Azriels words pierced through Rhys mind like a violent storm, destroying everything in its way. Rhys chuckled, grinning like a madman towards Azriels words, “there you are brother.” He stretched out his hand to help Azriel get up off the floor, ‘I know now that you love her, but she still needs space. Please respect her decision.’

Rhys jerked his chin towards the door. “Now get out.”

Azriel walked towards the door, looking over his shoulder for one last glance at you. Even with red staining your face, you were still the most beautiful female he had ever seen, yet he took every moment with you for granted. The cauldron was either cruel or he had terrible luck. How is it that his first and ever love would ruin him? How was he to move on from this? He realized too late that he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. You had completely shattered his heart and soul, taking the bleeding organ in your hands. “Be happy, love,” he spoke softly, “and for what it’s worth, I have always loved you.” You saw a lone tear run down his cheek as he turned and walked away.

Part 3 coming soon.....

A/n: Thank you for reading.

Taglist: @fuckthatfeeling @celtic-shadow-wolf @crazylokonugget @leyannrae @rehua @readychilledwine @ellievickstar @siriusblackssun @saltedcoffeescotch @b0xerdancer @tothestarsandwhateverend @anainkandpaper @em-marlenesversion @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe @rogersbarnesxx @nayaniasworld @sam-san-sam @yeahimcrying @olive-main

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x fem!reader #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic

390 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 3 months

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @bwormie @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled.)

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

508 notes · View notes

underdark-dreams · 4 months

Text

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog.

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least.

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest.

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery.

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.”

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship.

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find.

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short.

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes.

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster.

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand.

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking.

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures.

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression.

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself.

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable.

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years.

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page.

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss.

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #eventual smut #bg3 rolan #female tav #heat/rut cycles #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tiefling biology

486 notes · View notes

sarawritestories · 3 months

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 8

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Rhys and Cassian talk about Under the Mountain. The twins, Rhys and Cass meet the bone carver where Y/N sees someone unexpected, the IC goes out for dinner and two familiar faces come to greet Y/N. Cassian gets jealous.

Content Warnings: broad allusion to the S/A of Rhys. Mention of death by childbirth, unwanted touching from a stranger in a bar setting.

A/N: This is a chapter that i'm really happy about! I'm excited to share but this is also where I'm going to warn that we're no longer going to follow canon exactly. Big moments will happen in the same order but i'm adjusting time lines and some canon moments to fit what I want. I hope you liked this chapter as much as I do. I'm also close to 500 followers and that's crazy. Thank you for reading and giving my stories some love!

Word Count: 6.5

Unwavering Masterlist, ACOTAR Masterlist, Chapter 7

Rhysand’s POV

I opened the door to peek inside, and my heart swelled. The twins were curled up on the bed together Y/N’s arm protectively over Feyre. Their faces were so peaceful, not a worry on their features. I smiled and closed the door. Turning to walk away, I jumped as Cassian was leaning against the wall arms crossed, “Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, unapologetic snoop.” I flipped him off and he chuckled. “Everything okay?” His tone turned serious.

I smiled, “Yeah, they are sleeping together.” I paused as Cassian raised an eyebrow, “I mean they are asleep on the same bed. Don’t make it uncomfortable, brother.”

Cassian feigned offence placing a hand over his heart, “Rhys, how you wound me so!” I rolled my eyes, as my brother’s face grew serious, “Do you think they are going to resolve their issues?”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, “I think they have already begun.” I looked back at the door and could hear the two rustling in bed before they settled. I nodded my head toward my study. Cassian held his arm out letting me lead the way. When we got into the study Cassian sat on the couch. “Cassian.”

“Rhysand.” He counters his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward, hands clasped together, his siphons gleaming in the fae light.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, “I have a confession to make.”

Cassian brows furrowed, “By all means, Rhys, leave me in suspense.” He chuckled his laughter died in his throat at my face, “Shit, what is it?”

“There is something about that night that Y/N defended those girls, I never told you.” Cassian gave me his undivided attention. I held my hand out and Cassian rose from his seat, tucking in his wings he gripped my hand, and I took him to that night:

Cassian.

This girl reminded me of Cassian. Even as Amarantha cinched her wrist together, Y/N kept her chin up, her eyes met mine noticing aware her twin was on my lap her head on my shoulder. My hand remained on her waist. Amarantha had Y/N pinned to her. It’s like I could hear him chuckle, “Where the hell did you find these two human women, brother?”

Breathe. I’m sorry Y/N, I cannot help you.

Those girls didn’t deserve to see the cruelties of this world just yet. Try to keep their innocence.

Cassian would have said something similar with that same stance that same glint in his eye. I gave her a nod, and for the first time in 49 years I could not reign in the memory of my brother or the hope in my chest of seeing him again. Maybe these two human girls would be able to break this curse. Then I can go home and tell him about her. I can’t afford to think that way and I chug the rest of my wine.

“Eris Vanserra, please step forward.” My blood ran cold as the heir of the Autumn Court’s name came out that witch’s mouth. My gaze drifted over to the red-haired male step up as Amarantha forced Y/N to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.

I gripped her sister tightly as she began to wiggle, “Darling, dance for me, will you?” I whispered in her ear. She drunkenly giggled and got up to begin to dance. I could feel Y/N’s pulse quicken, Breathe. Through your nose. I could see she obeyed as Eris lifted her to her feet. I fought against gritting my teeth keeping my mask of cool indifference. I focused on Feyre as her hips swayed positioned right between my legs. My gaze drifted back and saw that Eris put a collar of flames around her neck and he was guiding her by a leash of flame. The crowd separated as he approached me.

Feyre spun and saw her sister and smiled, “Y/N,” she grinned not realizing her sister was in the grips of a viper and yet she still held her chin up high a challenge in her eye. Again, I could hear Cassian’s voice, “You need to keep her safe, Rhysand. Keep her alive so I can meet her.”

I pulled from the memory and Cassian sat in the chair across from mine, his face unreadable and his shields were locked up tight. “Cass, it was the second time I let myself think of you. The first is when she defeated the worm, and she gave a dramatic bow to the crowd as Feyre threw a muddy bone to Amarantha. When Y/N ran up to those girls I allowed myself to think of you and the hopes of coming home so I could tell you about them. Y/N did something dangerous without ever knowing.”

Cassian took a deep breath, “What was that?”

“Hope,” I lifted my hand and a decanter, and two glasses appeared I poured two fingers worth in both glances and handed one to my brother, “She gave me hope that we would make it out of this, that we would be able to come home. And when I dropped Feyre into her cell, I made it back to my room and cried. I cried so hard I vomited I let out 49 years’ worth of missing you, Azriel, Mor, even Amren.” Cassian chuckled, “This one human girl unraveled me all because she reminded me of you.”

Cassian smiled and gripped his hand in mine, “Well you did make it home, brother, and you kept you promise too spiritual me.” I snorted as he continued, “She’s wonderful Rhys.” He released my hand, and I watched as his eyes went distant, “Is it possible to fall in love with someone from the first time you’ve met them.”

I tilted my head, “What?”

Cassian sat up straight, flaring his wings, and his cheeks turned a shade of red against his tan skin, “What? Did I say that out loud, mother above.” He drinks the alcohol to the dregs and sets the glass down. “I enjoy her company. Is all I’m saying.”

I chucked, “Someone have a little crush, brother?”

Cassian leveled me with a glare, “Shut it, you prick.”

“I mean, Y/N, is funny. Kind.”

Cassian interjected, “Extremely kind.”

I grinned slyly, “She’s also beautiful.”

Cassian exhaled and his face morphed into a lovesick teenager’s, “The word beautiful doesn’t hold a candle to what she is.” Cassian blinked and looked over at me. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” I chuckled and stood having this sudden feeling of being dirty I plucked lint from my shirt and Cassian’s brow furrowed, “You’ve been doing that a lot since you’ve been home.” There was an underlying question that caused me to straighten my spine. “You don’t have to talk about it, Rhys, but I am here, if you want to.”

He stood and walked out of the study leaving me as my thoughts drifted to those haunted

Reader’s POV

I could feel eyes watching me as I slept and I jolted awake, Feyre doing the same to see Amren at the foot of the bed. “Don’t you knock.” I muttered rubbing my eyes. The morning sun filtered in the room.

Amren threw an amulet onto Feyre’s lap, “This is on loan. I expect this to be returned.”

Feyre looked at the jeweled necklace and looked at the tiny female confusion on her face. “What is this?”

“It’s, what helped me get out of the Prison, girl, you’ll need it today.” With that she left. Feyre and I exchanged glances and I simply shrugged sliding off the bed.

“Y/N,” I turned as my sister slid out of the bed as well, “Would you come with us today? To see the Bone Carver.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Rhys purred as he leaned against the door, Feyre threw a pillow at him, and he ducked in time that it flew in the hall. Rhys smirked and tucked a hand in his pocket. “Such a violent little thing.” I rolled my eyes.

“You two make me sick.” I muttered at the same time Feyre asked, “Don’t you knock.”

Rhys looked at me, “Do you want to come join us today?”

I nodded, “Sure, whatever I can do to help.” I walked toward the door, Rhys blocked the door, I crossed my arms.

“Want Cassian to come?” Rhys lifted a suggestive brow.

I pursed my lips, “He’s a grown male, he probably has other things to do.”

Cassian popped up behind Rhys, “It just so happened that Rhys cleared my Schedule, Princess.” He gave me a wink and I fought the butterflies flittering in my stomach.

“A group adventure it is.” I looked at Rhys, my smile falling as I noticed the dark circles sunk in his eyes and stars gone and he looked distant. You, okay? I reached out into his mind.

Rhys met my stare, Never better.

Liar.

High Lords can’t afford to have breakdowns in the time of War, Y/N.

I snorted. Someone better inform the High Lord of the Spring that.

Rhys laughed and placed a kiss on my cheek, “You are something else, Angel.”

My face didn’t change. If you need to talk, I’m here. You need to heal too. War or not.

Stars flickered back into his eyes, and he nodded as I moved to get to my room. The sound of boots was the only indication that I was being followed. “Something I can do for your, General?” I didn’t bother to turn around as I asked the question.

His hand gripped my wrist gently, “I wanted to see if you were okay.” His eyes drifted from my face to my chest. His face tilted as he gently pushed my hair behind my shoulder. I had to remind myself to breathe as he tugged the tunic to reveal the new tattoo there. “Well, hello,” he purred as his eyes flicked to mine, my toes curled, and I had to fight my arousal by his sensual tone. “This wasn’t here a few days ago.”

I took a deep breath and centered myself trying to ignore how him rubbing his thumb against my tattoo caused my whole body to thrum in response. “Feyre and I made a promise to one another. The tattoo appeared not long after that.”

Cassian nodded, letting the silence blanket the hall and I was able to take a good look at him. His eyes had a warm kind glow to them and being this close little flecks of green poked through, and one eyebrow had a slit going through where a white scar laid bare. His face had stubble on it as if he hadn’t shaved yet and I yearned to cup his face to feel it against my skin. My eyes drifted to his lips full and as tan as his skin. My mind wandered as I thought what it would be like if I pressed my own to them. What would he taste like. Cassian shifted eyes widened and I hadn’t realized how close our faces had gotten. I took a step back and cleared my throat, “I should probably get ready.”

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck and a blush fell onto his cheeks it made him look boyish, “Good idea,” his voice was husky and slightly strained, and he tucked his lower lip behind his teeth. He was beautiful in every sense of the word.

I turned forcing myself to look away from him and headed to my room when his voice rang out, “Princess,” I turned my head back he opened and closed his mouth and opened once more, “The prison is cold make sure to bundle up.” He looked pained as he said it, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you, General.” I winked and continued to my room all the while settling the erratic beating of my heart.

***

Cassian was not lying about it being cold. Rhys had winnowed us to the side of the mountain where the cold air pierced my skin. I wore my leathers with fleece line leggings and a long sleeve tunic underneath, but my teeth were still chattering. Cassian shuffled in the bag he brought with him and pulled out his leather jacket. There were patches on the back that were able to detach when he wears it to accommodate his wings. The wind caused a few of the loose strands from his bun to fly into his face though as he approached me, he seemed unfazed by the cold as he held up the bag. “Here, Princess.”

I slipped my arms into the leather sleeves, and he raised the jacket to my shoulders. Warmth encased my upper body as his jacket falling to my knees. Cassian’s hands gave my shoulders a squeeze, “Thank you.”

Cassian leaned in close his warmth seeping into my bones as he whispered, “You’re welcome.”

We made to the entrance of the building and Cassian interlaced his hand in mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. Rhys was the one that broke the silence talking to Feyre, “Do not let go of my hand. No matter what you hear or what you see. Do. Not. Let. Go.” Feyre nodded.

Rhys turned to me. Not like you would want her to let go of your hand. I smirked as Rhys leveled a glare my way, the only indication that my statement got to him. “Same with you, Y/N. Don’t let go of Cass’ hand.”

I lift our entwined hands and open my hand up as Cassian’s still clamped down and go as far as shaking our arms causing the male behind me to chuckle, “I don’t think he would let me. If I want to.”

“Not a chance. Not here.” Cassian murmured.

“Amren-“a hand clamped over my mouth muffling the rest of my sentence and I tried to wriggle from Cassian’s grasp fighting against how his body pressed against me makes me feel.

Rhys sighed, “We don’t mention her near or in the prison.”

Cassian released my mouth and I shoot him a glare. “Why?”

The General spoke this time, “The prisoners here do not take kindly to her escape. If they know we know here it could get messy, fast.”

“Next time just say that.” I punched his shoulder, “No need to manhandle me.”

He kissed my cheek, “Sorry, Princess, won’t happen again.” He leans in lowering his voice, “Unless you ask me to.”

Heat crept up my face as he straightened to his full height, and I tried to ignore how the words left a pool of heat in my belly, I punched him again, “Shameless flirt.”

Cassian laughed, “Keep it up, Archeron, and your punches could actually hurt me one day.”

I scowled as we entered the prison my humor dying as the darkness consumed us. The low fae lights didn’t help with lighting the path before us. Though Rhys and Cassian led us like they knew the place backward and forward. I could feel Feyre’s tension as badly as my own as we turned this way and that. Every turn reminded me of the path Under the Mountain but before my mind could wander too far into those memories there would be a squeeze of my hand. Like the male beside me knew where my mind was going and wanted to bring me back to him.

After a few minutes we reached the cell of the bone carver. Feyre looked back at me, and I gave her an encouraging nod. Rhys led her into the cell, and I stepped closer to Cassian our hands still entwined, and he curled his wing around me giving me extra warmth. We stepped inside and moved around, and I lowered my head finding my feet interesting.

Feyre and Rhys had begun their musings but the metallic smell from the power this creature possessed was making it hard for me to focus. I drowned out the conversation picking up key words. The book of breathings and Like calls to like but everything else was drowned out I tried to focus on Cassian’s hand in mine and how he was rubbing his thumb along the side of my hand. Back and forth back and forth, before I knew it, I was matching my breathing to the slow movements his thumb was making to center myself. The cell fell silent as I finally adjusted to the cell.

A female voice flooded my ears, “Look at me Y/N Archeron.” I looked up and was taken aback by the female before me. She was beautiful. She had one hazel and one Blue gray eye that looked so much like Feyre’s she had long dark hair braided in a crown atop her head a few wavy pieces that strayed from the updo framed her face highlighting her pointed ears. Her tan skin was clad in leathers similar to the ones Cassian and Azriel wore. What really caught my attention was her wings, they too were like Azriel’s and Cassian’s broad and beautiful even when tucked tightly behind her. She smirked, “Step closer, child.”

I attempted to take a step, but Cassian’s hand stayed firm in mine gently pulling me back to him. I wouldn’t move back to him I wanted to get a closer look at the female, she had a slender face, freckles kissed her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looked so much like Cassian, but then there was that smile and it looked so similar to the one my twin and I share. Was this a relative of Cassian’s? She was beautiful.

Her laugh was boisterous, “Who do you see when you look upon me child?”

Don’t answer that. Rhys voice flittered into the spot of my shield for him.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly.

You’re a great listener, you know that?

Cassian once again gently tries to tug me back to him. As the Bone Carve paces like a wild animal in a cage, “I wonder, what secrets does the human Archeron twin keep. Tell me one secret, Y/N Archeron.”

“What do I get for sharing a secret with you?” I asked and tried to release my hand, but Cassian refused to let go.

“Oh, clever girl,” The females wings fluttered, “A secret for a secret then and as a sign of good faith I will go first.” She met my gaze, “There are ancient creatures that roam these lands, Legend states that they were extinct in the first war. They were not, they just went into hiding. They want to come out and play again.”

Rhys swore, and I looked back and saw Cassian’s face paled as he muttered, “Dragons.”

The female looks back at Cassian, “Indeed, Prince of Bastards.” Something made me bristle at the implication of the title and the sneer on her lips. She turned back to me. “A deal is a deal.”

Rhys stepped in, “No we’re leaving, your insight has been very helpful.”

He turned and my sister was made to follow, Cassan gripped my arms releasing my hand and turned me away but wiggled out of his grasp and took the opportunity of his mistake stepping toward the Bone Carver, “A secret of any kind?”

She smiled and bowed her head, “I am partial to the darkest secrets, but I will accept any, Y/N Archeron.”

“Y/N,” Cassian’s tone was laced with warning that I promptly ignored.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “I am responsible for the death of my mother.”

***

We returned to the Town house in complete silence it wasn’t until we were in the dining room that Rhys debriefed Azriel, Amren, Mor. About what the bone carver said about the Dragons and the Book of breathings. I just listened as they talked about half the book being at the summer court and the other half with the human queens. I could feel eyes on me, but I proceeded to ignore his gaze and focus on Rhysand.

“I want to keep this between us for now. I have a plan to test Carver’s theory that Feyre can sense these objects. Like calls to like but I will need a few days to do so. I’ll send a letter to Tarquin and see if he will allow us to make a visit there. That leaves the human queens.”

I mutter, “Nesta and Elain could help.”

Feyre nodded, “We could use their manor as the meeting point. They could be our Correspondence with them since they reside in the Human lands.”

“You both willing to go back and talk to them.” Rhys looked at me.

“You did give us the job as your human emissaries, Rhys. I’ll do what I must.” Feyre nodded in agreement.

‘Alright, send word to your sisters tomorrow and see if we can set up a time to meet. However, I think tonight we have earned off. Let’s go out to dinner.”

Everyone cheered, even Amren had a sly grin to her face as they exited to go get ready, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys and I stayed in the dining room. I met Cassian’s gaze his lips were in a tight line and his arms were crossed over his broad chest. He was stunned at my confession at the prison, but he didn’t say a word, he had just grabbed my hand and led me back out, holding it tightly to keep me grounded. His eyes went vacant for a moment and when they went back to normal, he looked to Feyre and grinned “Feyre, let me escort you back to your room. Maybe that way I can talk you into fighting lessons. With me.” He held out his arm for her to take and winked, and my heart sunk. He was flirting with her. I mean I guess this was the first time I’ve seen him interacting with other women in the court. I had been so wrapped in my bubble that I never noticed that he was a natural flirt.

Feyre smiled and looped her arm in his and he walked out leading her upstairs. Rhys was facing the door looking out at Velaris, I pushed out of my seat, “What did you mean today?” Rhys asked turning to face me, “When you said you were responsible for your mother’s death.”

I shrugged, “What I said is what I meant, Rhys.” His brow furrowed. “Can we not talk about it? Please.”

Rhys sighed and walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, “Fine, but we have to talk about it.”

I pulled away, “Like how we have to talk about how Feyre is your mate?” His face paled as he dropped his arms. “I’m human, I’m not dumb, I noticed your behavior changed. She doesn’t know does she?”

Rhys shook his head, “No,”

I shook my head, “When did you find out?”

“When we said goodbye after we beat Amarantha.”

Shock rocked me, “You were going to let her marry, him…”

Rhys bit his lip, “I was going to respect what she wanted. I wanted her to be happy. Then she called out for help, Y/N, she was begging for anyone to save her. I felt it down the bond.”

I nodded my head, and I cupped his cheek, “Don’t keep her in the dark forever, Rhys, she’ll hate you for it.” With that I walked to my room to get ready for dinner.

***

We arrived at the restaurant, and everyone was dressed to the nines, and I opted for black silk pants and a sapphire blue corset top and a leather jacket. Put my hair up in a ponytail and placed a matching sapphire blue bow and some comfortable slippers. I walked down and Azriel shared an amused look, “Well Archeron, may I say blue looks ravishing on you.” He kissed my cheek. It was then that I noticed I matched his siphons. Everyone laughed as a blush crept up my face and I glanced at Cassian. He looked bemused but still made sure to extend his arm for me to take to escort me to the restaurant though it was apparent he kept us a good distance from the shadow singer.

Even at the dinner table Azriel sat by the window and I was making my way to sit next to him, Cassian guided me to the end of the table on the opposite side. “Cass, he doesn’t bite.” I murmured.

Cassian pulled out my seat for me and gently pushed me in, “Yes. He does. And he is a sore fucking loser.”

Azriel snorts, “I’m sorry she chose blue instead of red, brother.”

Rhys buts in, “She is allowed to wear whatever she wants, in whatever color she wants. Just because she wears a color doesn’t mean she is swearing an allegiance to either of you.” The kind restaurant owner came and brought our food and handed us a goblet for Amren. “Thank you, Nicolette. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The older female bowed her head, “Likewise, Rhysand. I hope everything is to your liking.” She looked to Feyre who was dressed in another radiant midnight blue Top and matching pants. “Its an honor to meet you Cursebreaker,” her gaze reached mine, “You as well Y/N Archeron. I hope you enjoy.”

Simultaneously Feyre and I said, “Thank you.” She smiled and left.

We all began eating and I looked over to Amren, “You don’t eat.” Not a question.

“Very observant, girl.” Amren snorted swirling the goblet in her hand.

“Are you not high fae?” I asked curiosity getting the better of me.

Rhys interjected, “She is in a way.”

“I do not know what I am completely, I did take form in a high fae body I chose this body.” Amren said in a tone telling me that that was all the information she was willing to give. I took a note and began drinking out of my own glass.

Azriel leaned his elbows on the table there was a mischievous glint in his eye, “Y/N, tell me. Did you have any lovers back in the human realm?” I choked on my drink; a fit of coughing erupted. A hand was rubbing my back and I looked to see Cassian giving Azriel a glare that if I were on the end of it would make me want to crawl out of my skin. Azriel didn’t seem phased.

“Just one.” I answered when I regained my breath. “Lover is a generous term for it though.”

Azriel quirked a brow, “Oh, why is that?” Feyre shifted in her seat uncomfortably by this conversation.

Before I could answer two tiny voices called out, “Y/N, Y/N.” I turned my brow furrowed in confusion as two small girls came running to the table and when I turned to face them, they leapt into my arms. Two little red-haired girls with tan skin tucked their heads into my neck. I rose, arms securing them as I moved off the chair.

The girls’ mother came toward us, “I’m so sorry. They saw you and they wanted to say hello.”

The two girls pulled away and met Y/N’s gaze and I gasped their green eyes shined bright and their red hair was not matted but curled and their tan skin looked healthy and gleaming. “Well look at you two. You have grown.” I smiled, holding both of their hands.”

Mor’s voice piqued, “You know them?”

One of the girls who was slightly taller, “You remember us?”

I smiled, “Of course I do.” She pulled them into a hug again and the two girls clung to her tightly. “I would never forget either of you.”

Their mom smiled, “I never got a chance to see you, to thank you for what you did for them.”

I met the mom’s stare with a smile of my own, “No thanks necessary.” The girls pulled away from me but still clung to my hands, “I’m glad you girls are okay.” I looked back up to their mom, “I didn’t realize you resided in the Night Court.”

“We were originally from the Autumn Court. I served for the Lady of the Court. Rhysand offered me a place to stay and a comfortable home if I wanted it.” I looked to see her gazing at Rhys with a smile and Rhys nodded his head, “I couldn’t stay in that court knowing what the prince did, so I grabbed the girls, and he brought us here.”

The girl that spoke before said, “We love it here!”

I smiled, “I’m so glad.” I leaned and naturally the two girls also lean in as if we’re telling a big secret “I love it here too.” The girls giggled in response, “What are both of your names? I never got a chance to be properly introduced. I’m Y/N.”

The social butterfly of the two smiled wide, “I’m Alexis, you can call me Lexi. This is my twin Elizabeth, but we all call her Lizzie.”

Lizzie gives a shy wave before biting her lip a bit. I beamed and I turned and point to Feyre, “Well what a coincidence my Twin is right there. That’s Feyre. I call her Fey.”

Feyre gave the two girls a small wave, and the two waved back enthusiastically. Y/N looks to the mom, “I’m Evangeline. Feel free to call me Evie.” I let go of the girls’ hands for a moment and walked toward Evie as she blinked away a few tears and gripped me into a hug, “I can’t thank you enough,” She turned her gaze to Rhys and Feyre and the rest of our table. “All of you, for your kindness.”

Rhys smiled, “The pleasure is ours.” The table all gave nods in agreement.

Lexi tugged on my pant leg, “Can we have a sleepover sometime?”

Alexis!” Evie scolded, “She is probably busy with working for the high-“

I interrupted her raising my hand, “For my two new friends,” I knelt to their level, “I would make the time. You just need to convince the High Lord. I do live at his house at the moment.”

Lexi and Lizzie ran to Rhysand and held their hands up, “Please, High Lord. Please.” I noticed that Cassian and Azriel were trying really hard not to laugh as they saw their brother turn to into putty at these girls hands.

Rhys smiled, “Tell you what whenever, mom needs some time to get errands done, or would like to have an evening to herself you can come to my townhouse and spend as much time as you want with my family.”

“Including Y/N?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Rhys smiled widened, “Yes, including Y/N.” He gave them a playful wink and the two girls giggled and ran back to their mom.

“C’mon girls, let them enjoy the rest of their dinner.”

Alexis waved, and Y/N stands to take her seat, and she feels a tugged on her pants. She looked down to find Lizzie and her eyes lined with silver, and she blurts, “I want to be like you when I grow up.” She looked down sheepishly after blurting it.

I took a minute to process what she said, “What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

She looked up tears streamed down her face, “I want to be brave and kind and not afraid like you,” I could feel the emotion swelling in my chest and tears of my own were beginning to fall. I fell to my knees and pulled her in to a hug, and Lizzie erupted into sobs burying her face in her shoulder. I held out my other arm and Alexis ran into tears in her eyes too. Lizzie whimpered, “I was so afraid I had an accident. You were so brave, Y/N.”

“You were so brave.” I whispered, stroking their hair. I pulled away from them and made the effort to wipe both their tears from their faces. “I think you both were extremely brave. You both held your chin up so high going back to your mom. I was proud of you.” I looked at both girls, “I was proud of both of you.” I smiled and hugged them both, “And we’re here now. And we’re friends.”

“Forever?” Lexi hiccuped.

“And ever.” I promised.

I gave both girls a kiss on their forehead and sent them back to their mom who was smiling with gratitude. I took a seat in my chair watching them walk away, “So those were the girls you told me about.”

I nodded as I shifted back to face my friends, Cassian held out his napkin for me to grab and I graciously took it and wiped my eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t even know they were twins. Kind of poetic.” I chuckled as I felt the familiar callouses of Cassian’s hand on the back of my neck, that thumb rubbing soothing circles and I leaned into his touch. “Thank you, Rhys, for bringing them here and giving them a better life.”

Rhys held out his hand and I took it, and he grabbed Feyre’s hand and gave them both a squeeze, “They deserved it, as you both deserve a chance at a better happy life.”

***

Dinner came to a close and as we walked out in the crisp night air Mor linked arms with me, “I say we head to Rita’s anyone in?”

Cassian and Azriel agreed to join but it was Rhys and Feyre who both declined Amren already left for the evening. I smiled at both of them and waved before I was being dragged away to the bar.

The atmosphere of Rita’s was nothing like the taverns at the human realms, the music thrummed, and the beat could be felt on the floor there were various colored fae lights, Azriel led us all to a table and offered to grab everyone drinks. Mor sat next to Cassian, and I ended up at the end of the booth. I noticed how Mor laid her head on Cassian’s shoulder and he laid his head on top of hers giving her forehead a light kiss and that pang rang in my chest again. How had I not noticed that he is like this with everyone. Clearly he expresses love through touch.

Azriel brought everyone a drink and a shot. I took the shot with fervor and welcomed the burn of the alcohol. Az sat across from me and quirked his brow as I also chugged the drink, he brought for me. This was going to be a long night.

A few drinks in and Mor was basically on Cassian’s lap. I tried not to gape, but it was hard as she kept whispering in his ear. He held her but his face was slightly bored, Az and I just sat and watched the people on the dance floor. His shadows swirled around my ankle, and I smiled.

“Excuse me,” I male’s voice interrupts my appreciation of Azriel’s shadows and look up to find a fae male, with pale skin and blonde hair smiling at me. “Could I bother you for a drink and a dance.” I looked him over his body was toned and I noticed that he had a tail that touched the floor if he were to extend it out. “I just couldn’t help but notice how you beautiful you were.”

I opened my mouth to refuse but Mor cut in, “She would love to.” Mor gave me a light push and I turned back to look at Cassian who seemed more interested in his drink as Mor nuzzled back into him. I gave the male in front of me a bright smile and took his hand.

We walked to the bar, and he said his name was Mark not even bothering to ask for mine, “So I’ve not seen you around before?” He purred in my ear as our drinks came. His tail brushed up my leg and I stepped out of its reach.

“I’m new in town.” I said shrugging.

“For being new in town, you do keep interesting company. The Lord of Bloodshed, The Morrigan and the Shadowsinger. You must have made some impression.” His tail pushed me closer to him, so he grabbed me by the waist. I pressed a hand to his chest, “Sorry, Babe. Sometimes my tail has a mind of its own. I nodded and fought the urge to roll my eyes. We continued our drinks in proximity, and he insisted we go dance. He placed a hand on my lower back his tail once again grazing my leg and moving to the under curve of my ass. The alcohol was settling in my system so that where his hands were didn’t bother me anymore and I let the beat of music take me away.

Mark wrapped a hand around my stomach and held me flush to his chest. “You are such a pretty thing,” He murmured in my ear. I hummed in thanks as his free hand gripped my throat lightly, to angle my head to his. I could see the lust in his eyes as they glanced at my lips, and he leaned in. There was a cough behind us.

We turned and Cassian stood there, ire was in his eyes and the object of that anger was geared to Mark. “Mind if I cut in?”

Mark had a look as if he wanted to say he would but thinking better of it he walked away not so much as a goodbye. His tail did manage to graze my ass. What a dick. Cassian moved closer and gripped my hand and spun me around. He pressed me to his back my head meeting his chest. Both his hands entwined with mine and pressed me closer and calm washed over me. He whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.”

I smiled and shifted my head to see his hazel eyes now soften and his pupils were blown out. “Thank you, Cass.”

He spun me around, so he pressed my chest to his, and his toned arm snaked around my waist. His nose brushed mine, “I wonder though how you would look in red instead of blue.”

The alcohol made me bold because I grinned, “Hmm I wonder how Az would fee-“

Cassian growled, “I don’t want to hear his name out of that pretty little mouth of yours, Princess.”

“Whose name should I say?”

His lips were so close to mine, our breaths intertwining, as he huskily said. “Mine.”

Before I could press my lips to his, Mor tapped his shoulder, “We’re going home, fly me to my apartment?” Cassian pulled away and I instantly missed his warmth.”

“Sure.” He muttered before kissing my head, “Goodnight, Princess.” He turned back to Mor glaring at her, and she only gave him a saccharine smile.

Mor blew a kiss to me before looping her arm in Cassian’s and the duo walked out.

Azriel was beside me in an instant, “She’s a brat.” He murmured and pressed a hand on my back and led me out of Rita’s.

When we reached the Townhome I walked into my room and sat on my bed and looked out at the night sky, hoping to see wings and flashes of red on the horizon.

Chapter 9

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #cassian fanfic #cassian #cassian fluff

425 notes · View notes

deecotan · 7 months

Text

🌱 Deeco's ZoSan Fic Rec List 🐥

Hello hello! This is going to be a slight rework for my zosan fic rec list, because I wanted to re-organize it and add some new fics while I'm at it, so this is going to be longer than the first. Feel free to check it out!

Latest update: November 2023

Because I started making this list long before August 2023, I won't add any fics that specifically take place in live-action setting because I haven't read much of them yet. I might consider updating this list to add fics with live-action setting in the future.

—GEN/T FICS

Sketches of Life (and Love) by Fledgling (Teen, 2.9k)

An exploration of a headcanon where Sanji likes to draw in his free time. This fic always leaves me with a warm feeling every time I read it because how endearingly sweet it is. It’s basically a domestic fluff story about both ZoSan and the Strawhats crew in general.

green with envy blues by adietxt (Gen, 1.5k)

A cute fic about Zoro being jealous. Jealous!Zoro has been one of those tropes that make me screech like a feral animal every time I come across it and this fic does exactly that. It’s pretty short and simple but it captures the characters very well. It’s set during pre-timeskip which makes it even better to me because pre-TS Zoro possesses that boyish quality that post-TS Zoro doesn’t necessarily have anymore. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Fuck, Marry, Kill (or, how Usopp becomes the best matchmaker of the sea without really trying) (Teen, 4.8k) — Usopp introduces the Strawhats to a game that ends up causing Sanji to overthink things - a lot of things.

Old Men Blues by postmoderne (Gen, 2k)

Quoting directly from the fic’s summary, “Sanji and Zoro: two ancient fucks (in love).” because this is exactly that, a story about old men ZoSan. Old Zoro and old Sanji are both still as stubborn as ever and it’s endearing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Something Golden (Teen, 1.6k) — Canon reimagining where Zoro met Sanji at the Baratie pre-series.

Meet me under the orange tree by candelina (Gen, 3.9k)

A canon divergence AU where Zoro and Sanji met as kids, as Zeff opened up Baratie in Zoro’s hometown. It’s an adorable and heartwarming story of little Zoro and little Sanji’s friendship. There’s also a part two which is also worth reading. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The whole world will know (2.3k) — Old men ZoSan fic, this one involves Zoro deliberately showing himself to the Marines for god knows what. It’s sweet, it’s beautiful, and it shows that Zoro is as reckless and idiotic as he is a loving, devoted husband.

Zoro’s Boyfriend, Who Lives In Canada by donutsandcoffee (Gen, 2.6k)

Modern AU, where Zoro’s friends try to stop him from believing that his imaginary, totally made-up boyfriend actually exists. Of course Zoro’s boyfriend doesn’t actually exist, because with the way Zoro describes him he’s way too perfect to exist and how can anyone so perfect actually exist? A hilarious story of misunderstandings. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Prison Blues (Teen, 2.8k) and it’s a long way forward (Teen, 5k) — serve as both a ZoSan story and a great Sanji character study.

The Three of Swords by 8ball (Teen, 30k, multi-chapters & completed)

A medieval AU with knight Zoro and prince Sanji, a concept that starts to really grow on me after I begin to read this fic. In this story, Zoro is a cursed knight appointed to serve Sanji, a kind-hearted prince whom Zoro eventually pines over. It’s a beautiful take of prince and knight AU; devoted knight Zoro is something that I didn’t know I need. It also has a sequel. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Ocean's Child series — a canon-divergence mermaid!Sanji AU

(I Want) Someone to Love Me by three_days_late (Teen, 7.9k)

Sanji is about to turn 17, so he hopes that he can get his first kiss before that. A cute high school AU that involves everyone wanting to kiss Sanji (honestly, who doesn’t) but only one person gets to actually do it. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Blood Red (Teen, 400 words) — this might be a little biased because this fic is inspired by my comic, but it’s also a perfectly good reason why I must add it here; this fic is able to capture the spirit of the comic perfectly. If you want to read a short exposition of Zoro showing his darker, yet protective side, then this fic is worth the read. Warning for blood & hints of violence. The Christmas Swap (Teen, 37k, multi-chapters & completed) — a modern AU in which Sanji and Reiju switch partners during Christmas so they can attend their family gathering without having to come out as queer. It’s a wonderful story about family, relationships, and the struggles of maintaining those things as a queer person. The Only Way Out (Is Through) (Teen, 4.8k) — a beautiful Prince Sanji and Knight Zoro story, where circumstances forced them to separate & unable to be together. It also has a side Nami/Vivi. I Have Loved You for 1000 Years (I'll Love You for 1000 More) (Teen, 8.9k) — Another Prince Sanji & Knight Zoro AU involving time travel & the sacrifices you go through for the ones you love.

Curly Angel by APTX & translated to English by NMTD (Teen, 9.4k, two chapters & completed)

In this alternative canon universe, everyone has a guardian angel, and Zoro’s just happened to be Sanji. Hilarity ensues.

Let me be your Inspiration by TheWanderers (Teen, 19.8k)

College AU where Sanji is an artist/painter - another fic that explores Sanji as someone with an artistic streak, but also so much more. It’s a beautiful story that starts out with Zoro having to model for Sanji’s painting but ends up falling in love with him. I love the way the author adapts the characters’ canon backstory into this universe.

Retrogade by Hazel_Athena (Teen, 21.9k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got badly injured after a fight, and ends up losing a big chunk of memories - it doesn’t bother him too much until he notices how weird Zoro starts to act around him. A really good temporary amnesia fic with some really delicious pining!Zoro material. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Medieval ZoSan series — a medieval arranged marriage AU. Renegade Queen (Teen, 76k, multi-chapters & completed) — a canon divergent AU where Sora lives and takes all her children with her - it's more of a Vinsmoke family story with ZoSan on the side.

Nothing Happened (Gen, 16k, multi-chapters & completed)

An angsty survival story where the Strawhats get stranded in a middle of the seas with no means to escape and rapidly declining food stock. This fic does a really good job at keeping you in suspense, and the way it handles Zoro and Sanji's relationship destroyed me emotionally. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Each A Love Song (Gen, 8.6k) — Sanji is frustrated because Zoro’s surprisingly popular with women when he doesn’t even like them back. A story of a confused Sanji trying to find love and being the World’s Most Oblivious Man. Three Blades (Gen, 5k) — a Western AU where Sanji is a saloon owner and Zoro is a bounty hunter.

The Melody of Missing You by BleuReivers (Teen, 11k)

Zoro is forced to confront his feelings in the aftermath of Sanji's departure during the Whole Cake Island arc. I love the way this story examines Zoro's softer, more vulnerable side in a painfully beautiful way, and the whole fic has this hazy, dream-like vibe that really fits with the plot.

Sick Day by Styx_in_the_mud (Teen, 1.3k)

Zoro gets sick, and Sanji takes care of him. A short sick!fic with a simple premise but very cute nonetheless.

—MATURE/EXPLICIT FICS

Deep by CharlieNozaki (Mature, 171k, multi-chapters & completed)

This is There Are Many Benefits to Being A Marine Biologist: The Fic. Okay jokes aside, this is a modern fantasy AU fic where merpeople exist and it mainly tells about marine biologist Sanji and merman Zoro. It has an interesting premise and deals with some heavy subjects in later chapters, hence the Mature tag. It has a sequel, though it's currently ongoing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Game — a Modern AU with slight fantasy-ish element, where Zoro and Sanji are young orphans who find a mysterious game that might be able to change their lives.

Delphinium by toastie_bread (Mature, 39k, multi-chapters & completed)

Set in modern AU, stylist Sanji meets with police detective Zoro after his beauty salon got robbed; a cute rom-com story. There's also a side LawLu.

Steady, As She Goes by auspizien (Explicit, 155k, multi-chapters & completed)

I’ve always loved auspizien’s fics and this is the one fic that made me fall in love with their writing. This is a modern AU story where Zoro is an ex-agent with PTSD who meets and befriends Sanji, a paramedic. It’s a multi-chapter fic filled with humor, angst, pining, action, and good ol’ slow-burn. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Android Acquaintance (Explicit, 10k) — dystopian cyberpunk AU with android Sanji and bounty hunter Zoro. This fic partly inspires me to make the Blade Runner 2049 ZoSan art!

The Tribulations of Temptation by SweetyGreeny (Explicit, 18.5k)

Zoro accidentally sees Ace and Sanji doing… the do, and then spends days after that feeling shocked, confused, angry, and disappointed. A delicious story of pining and jealous Zoro. There’s a slight AceSan in the beginning but the endgame is still ZoSan. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: A Siren’s Sinking Song (Teen, 12k) — a canon-divergent AU where Sanji is a siren who one day meets a peculiar swordsman from a wandering ship; this story is beautiful and I love the idea of siren!Sanji, but please note the major character death TW. The Burden of Blondes (Explicit, 11k) — Sanji finds out that Zoro has a thing for blondes, and for some reason he feels uneasy. A fun story with some good smut, and inspired me to make an art loosely based on it.

Thy Fearful Symmetry by Harubo (Explicit, 14.3k)

A modern AU where Sanji is a tourist visiting a tiger reserve during a family vacation and Zoro is a detective investigating a poaching ring. All of Harubo’s fics are godsend but I particularly love this one because the setting reads like a perfect rom-com drama movie about a stressed, overworked chef meeting a handsome detective. There’s also a nice tidbit where the Vinsmoke siblings are trying to get along with each other.

Done Dirt Cheap by Balderdashfromafool (Explicit, 99.7k, multi-chapters & completed)

A Western ZoSan AU, where Zoro is an outlaw and Sanji is a small town chef. This one is fun and lovely, and as someone who doesn’t read a lot of Western-themed stories, I love the way the author describes the Western setting in this fic.

The Fox's Heart by Shadowcatxx (Explicit, 32k, multi-chapters & completed)

Historical/mythological AU where fox spirit Sanji falls in love with human samurai Zoro. A pretty heavy story about forbidden romance but ends with a happy ending. The fic deals with some period-typical issues like homophobia, misogyny, sexism, and transphobia, as well as some depictions of violence and (slight) animal abuse, so please be aware of that.

Mine by burnwaywardbird (Explicit, 4k)

A pure PWP fic of Zoro “punishing” Sanji for flirting with strangers. Super kinky and involves slight dom/sub undertones. Also, while this is mostly pure PWP, this fic is technically part of a series and while can be read as a standalone, I highly recommend to read the other parts as well (especially the ones preceding this fic).

pretty sanji series (Pretty & Surprise) by kickingsanji (12.6k in total)

A series of fics exploring Sanji's femininity and Zoro discovering that he has a thing for Sanji being pretty & wearing pretty things. As a Pretty Sanji truther, I love these fics to bits, not only because it handles Sanji dealing with his insecurities when it comes to his gender expression in a gentle, respectful way, but also because the smut is very good.

All Will be Well by thecrownofclowns (Explicit, 17k)

An incredibly sad but sweet zombie apocalypse AU about Sanji trying to survive the zombie outbreak all by himself, before eventually meeting Zoro. One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics.

—OMEGAVERSE (ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA) FICS

Onigiri by himaaneko (Teen, 2.3k)

Very cute domestic family fic of Zoro, Sanji, and their son. For those who prefers a softer omegaverse with family/love-children fluff on the side, this fic is for you.

Bite Me by Shadowcatxxx (Mature, 15k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got attacked while he was alone on the ship, causing him to go into heat. Zoro tries to help, but not without consequences. An exposition on how Zoro and Sanji handle their dynamics, and their feelings towards each other. Please mind the tags with this one.

fever by adietxt (Explicit, 6.4k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm pretty sure that this is the first omegaverse ZoSan story that I have ever read, and one of the best ones I've ever read for a good reason. It involves Sanji, who suddenly got into his heat, and Zoro, the first one to discover Sanji in heat and learns for the first time he's an omega. I won't spoil anything, but I can say that the ending is great, the porn is delicious, and Zoro being possessive is exquisite.

Steps of Calidity by auspizien (Explicit, 42k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm gonna preface this by saying that the smut here is ungodly good and very, very hot - and to be perfectly honest, one of the main reasons why I like this fic so much. But the plot is just as good and has an interesting take of how omegaverse dynamics might work in a modern world. Don't forget to mind the tags as well.

Sweet by ElAlmaDelMar (Explicit, 1.8k)

Sanji starts lactating during his pregnancy; Zoro finds it very hot. This one is just straight up kinky. It's a sequel to another story but can be read as a standalone.

#zosan fic rec #deeco's fic rec #zosan #one piece

691 notes · View notes

smallmightsupremacy · 6 days

Text

Why we are getting a dvk3

So. The war is over now, and everything is supposed to go back to normal, right?

Wrong. I don't know about you, but this recent chapter was... a roller coaster of emotions, to say the least. We went from the highs of graduation to a mysterious new character all the way to some panels showing how Izuku isn't doing well mentally. And I have a lot of thoughts about that last point in particular. Especially for what this means for Izuku and Katsuki's relationship going forward. So, well before reading this chapter, I was a firm believer that we were going to get a dvk3. It just makes sense, right? Every pivotal moment of their relationship has been a dvk moment, so it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that the third pivotal moment of them becoming true equals would be a dvk too. Not convinced? Well, I'm going to breakdown one specific moment in this chapter and explain why this makes me even more sure that we're getting a dvk3 The moment I'm referring too is Izuku's interaction with Ochako:

We start off with Izuku looking off into the distance after hearing the words "why I wanted to become a hero" from Mawata. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume that those words were enough to make him reflect on himself and beliefs; to reflect on his own why. Why exactly did he become a hero?

Well, we already know the answer to that: to save people with a smile.

But in the final war, did Izuku actually achieve that? He doesn't seem fully convinced about that idea:

He believes that he didn't fully save Tenko, and those feelings of self-hatred, of not being good enough rose to the surface when the why of becoming a hero was brought up. Hence, his pensive expression in that first frame. Clearly Izuku's going through some turmoil right now. Self-hatred, emptiness, probably no sense of direction about where he wants to go in his life now that he's quirkless... the list goes on. So what does he decide to do about it? He approaches Ochako:

Maybe it's to talk about her moment on the UA rooftop which was referenced just before, but it doesn't seem that way. They've already talked about that moment already, why bring it up again? I mean, you could argue that it's Izuku telling her not to be so humble or embarrassed over that moment, but his reaction when she changes the direction of the conversation says otherwise:

He looks so upset, like he wanted to truly talk about his feelings with a trusted friend. The war is over. There's no need for him to control his heart again. He can finally talk about his feelings... yet he gets brushed off.

The fact that this panel of him frowning is right next to one of Ochako laughing says A LOT too It wasn't an accident that this panel of Izuku was put next to one of Ochako smiling. This was done for a reason. I think that reason is to showcase Izuku reaching a realization-- the realization that everyone is starting to move on from the war and smile again while he's stuck in a slump. I think it's in that panel, where he decides that he won't try to talk about his feelings again. If he does, then he'll bring down the mood and no one will be smiling anyone. Remember, Izuku still blames himself for the reason why his class got targeted, so he probably blames himself for them getting injured and upset from the war too. In his mind, the least he can do is keep quiet about his feelings and suffer in silence at the gain of everyone else's happiness. That being said, this is by no means an attack on Ochako's character at all. She's a great friend to Izuku- hell, that's probably the reason why he decided to go to her specifically to talk about his feelings -but I think there's a part of her that doesn't want to talk about what happened in the war either.

Even if there was, she still would've said something or shown concern if she could truly see how much the war was impacting Izuku. Instead, she misses it. She misses it because, as close as they are, she's the person from class 1A that knows Izuku second best. So that leaves only one person who can help Izuku process his feelings: the one person that knows Izuku best; the one person that will be able to see through his guise of pretending to be alright and save him before he reaches the point of self-destruction; the same person that has proven that they can and will do something like that time and time again. Sound familiar? Yeah. Katsuki is the only one that can help Izuku right now.

But it's not going to pretty. I'm not necessarily saying that dvk3 will involve a fight. On the contrary, I think that's the last thing that should happen for a multitude of reasons: Katsuki is still recovering, their relationship is at the point where they can have vulnerable conversations without throwing punches (read: the hospital scene), and it wouldn't make sense at all to have them throwing punches. Izuku hasn't got a quirk anymore; against Katsuki, he doesn't stand a chance of winning the fight. And that just negates all their growth of becoming equals. So perhaps we shouldn't call it Deku vs Kacchan 3, but rather Deku AND Kacchan 3 It's going to be a fight of them accepting feelings; both each other's and their own. There's going to be crying and tears and so much pain, but it's going to end up with Katsuki reaching out to Izuku so we can get that long awaited and incredibly foreshadowed handhold. So we can see that Katsuki still sees Izuku as an equal, quirk or no quirk.

At least, that's what I hope. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this too!!

#bnha #mha #mha manga spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #mha 425 #bnha 425 #bkdk #bakudeku #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha meta #bnha meta

255 notes · View notes

slackerlifewhere · 26 days

Text

TCF is all about healing

- This is a review about the novel.

There's possible SPOILERS for readers who haven't finished reading the first volume.

___

When I first picked up the novel, I didn't have high expectations. After reading a lot of stories that end up disappointing me because of how the author eventually adds romance or harems into the story because their main character apparently needs a romantic relationship to feel good about themselves, I thought that Trash of the Count's Family will be the same thing further down the line.

But damn, did the author prove me wrong.

In the first few chapters, the novel's entire vibe was almost unnoticeable. Sure, there were some small details like him not being used to extravagant clothes or finding a simple meal delicious, but it wasn't obvious. It made me raise my eyebrow but I simply thought that he's a simple salaryman or something.

The first lines about him not having anyone who would miss him if he's gone in his previous world can be excused as him having no lingering attachments. And honestly, some transmigration/isekai stories do have their main characters having no attachments in their previous world. So it makes sense and it didn't alert me of what could've possibly happened to Cale, former Kim Rok Soo, for him to be so aloof and calm at the forced transmigration.

And then...he thought about poverty and pity when interacting with On and Hong. That was the first sign that he may have left a few lines out of his introduction.

It steadily got worse when he was talking to Choi Han about him being used to the cruelty of people like Venion. And then, at the first meeting with Raon, he appeared as if he understood the hopelessness of a child under an abusive adult's hand.

That's when I finally thought that TCF is a story about healing. And I was pleasantly surprised.

Sure, there's action, drama, and comedy, but TCF is mainly about moving on or healing from past hurts. There are moments when it can be called "cliche" but TCF is unique in the way it portrays Cale and his relationships. There's the found family trope that I love but what I love the most about the story is how these characters who have lost something or were about to lose something if OG Cale didn't make the deal with God of Death to have KRS replace him, is slowly understanding that they're not alone and that they can improve as a person if given the chance.

It's heart-warming and completely unexpected. I didn't read the first chapter expecting this fantasy-themed action novel to be about this.

OG Cale, Choi Han, Raon, On and Hong, Lock, Taylor and Cage, Alberu, the Dark Elves, Mary, and so many characters paved the way for me to completely fall in love with this novel.

If I sound like I'm exaggerating, then I don't care because this novel is just beautiful.

What completely blew my mind is the final reveal of Cale's past as Kim Rok Soo.

Listen, I have a love-hate relationship with KR survival novels involving monsters and dungeons and the freaking apocalypse. I love some of them and I can't stand the others. But I did not expect that Kim Rok Soo was in a world trying to survive from the effects of the apocalypse.

My first reaction was "What the actual fuck" because I 100% did not expect for the story to go that way. And my second thought was "So that's why!" Because it finally explains why he hates "papercuts"! This guy is so good at making big things about himself sound so small that it left me stunned when the big reveal happened!

I wanna slap him and hug him at the same time.

It explains why he's so good at being a commander. It explains why he's used to getting hurt or why he hates the thought of his friends and family dying with him as the survivor (I believe he has a survivor's guilt?). It explains everything.

He may be in a new world but he's still stuck in his past no matter how much he says about not thinking about what-ifs and his past. The time he spends in this new world is him slowly realizing that he's not alone and he doesn't have to be so scared.

And when I finally thought that I'm done being surprised, OG Cale appears and flips everything I knew about the character. They talk about how content they are with their new identities. They smile. They're happy. And that proves why this novel is about healing and not the simple transmigration novel full of action and comedy. Instead of getting angry at Kim Rok Soo, former Cale Henituse, for the deal with God of Death, he's just happy for the man and for himself. I just love how the author doesn't forget about Kim Rok Soo's sacrifices and rewards him with a happy life with his mother.

It's so hard not to finish the novel within weeks because of how good it is. It can be fast in some parts for the action, which makes sense since everything is happening at once. But there are also slow emotional moments that keep reminding me why I love this novel.

So yeah, this is my review about TCF. It's not a perfect novel but it's a good novel about healing and family. And I'm waiting for the second volume to be done so I can finally read the rest.

#tcf #tcf cale #tcf novel #tcf manhwa #tcf cale henituse #cale henituse #lcf cale #lcf novel #lcf #raon miru #tcf raon #kim rok soo #kim roksu #lcf manhwa

222 notes · View notes

chimcess · 4 months

Text

Waterlog || pjm (1)

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

masterlist || next || playlist

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

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

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

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

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

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thought for a second before replying.

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

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

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

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

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

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

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiding behind humor was a pastime.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

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

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

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

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

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

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

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

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see me?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

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

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

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

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

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

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

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

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

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart.

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

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

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

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

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

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

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

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

First work then play, I told myself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

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

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like we have company!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hope the concert was nice.”

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

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

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t look very impressed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I put your stuff in your room.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I felt like an asshole.

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

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

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

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him.

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

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

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

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “See you.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Likewise," I replied.

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

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

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

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

375 notes · View notes