#because on one hand having short hair again would only remind her of her life from before

[thatsdemko]

drought - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: husband!charles leclerc x wife!fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + fingering (f receiving) + minor grammatical errors!

a/n: everyone say thank you to Charles leclerc’s recent photo dump

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the simulator, the meetings, the practices, the races. it’s never ending exhaustion for Charles as he struggles grappling the seasons horrid start.

he’s thankful to have someone to turn to when times get rough. his lovely wife, you. through thick and thin is what you promised each other, and right now? this was the thin. this was what was starting to tear you both further apart.

Charles spent all his time home at the simulator, or any chance he could, at the factory. you’ve spent dozens of lonely, boring, nights in your shade king size bed.

the picture frame above the headboard is no longer crooked. you’d have time to fix it into place because the reason it fell was the endless nights of sex. the headboard would bang into the wall and eventually the picture, from your wedding night, would either come falling down, or end up sideways on the hook.

it was a reminder of your once thrilling sex life has come to an end. sex was no longer something you both were actively participating in. it was rather you and a vibrator on those lonely occasions.

“headed out?” you ask, picking your head up from your book in your lap. you’d heard his heavy footsteps. his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth searching the right sneakers to wear.

“just to maman’s salon. been awhile.” he says coming into the living room to sit beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement having not remembered the last time his beautiful brown hair was trimmed. although, you don’t mind the length, and neither did his fans. you’d encouraged him to listen to them, and at the time he laughed. then you showed him why you liked it so much. the ends being tugged between your fingers, ruffled and yanked during sex, he enjoyed the arousal. now, there was no need for it.

“tell her I say hi.” you say, soft smile forming to your lips.

he catches your eyes for a brief second when he looks up from tying his shoes. he takes the quick second to press a kiss to your cheek, “you should come by. maman would love to see you.”

you’d missed pascale. in fact, you missed his whole family. it’d been months since you’d shared a laugh with Arthur, or even held conversation with Lorenzo and his new girlfriend. while you knew the chances were slim to seeing his siblings, you still joined him in the car. it’d been the first time in weeks being in his pista.

his hand dangerously slips across the center console. his thumb strokes the skin your inner thigh that’s exposed from your biker shorts. he’s happy you’ve tagged along, he can’t remember the last time you’ve spent more than two hours together that wasn’t spent sleeping.

“I noticed you fixed the picture above our bed.” he says turning to look at you for a brief second at the stop light. you figured he hadn’t noticed, it was slight change and he rarely slept at home when he had days off. you’re sure he’s seen the toy under your side of the bed if he truly went looking.

“gives you a new challenge again.” you reply back watching the wheel spin under his hands as he pulls into the parking lot. you were finally free from his grip.

he scoffs, putting the car in park, “it was always too easy. it was never a challenge.”

a smirk forms to your lips. your words catching him before he slips out the car, “well you have a new challenge and it’s much better than you’ve been in the past month.”

—

you’re sitting in the chair beside him watching pascale trim the wet ends of his hair. a few fall in his face or around the top of the cape.

she’s happy to see you. in fact, she’s only talking to you the whole time.

she doesn’t notice how you’ve been squeezing your legs together every so often. your one leg is crossed over the other, he sees you shifting in the chair as you answer his mothers questions. he sees how turned on you’ve become watching him.

it’s funny to him. how it’s the most mundane thing ever and it’s got your pussy throbbing for him. all he’s doing is sitting in the chair allowing his mother to cut the dead ends of his hair.

he can tell whatever you were using to get off was not enough. and it was his own damn fault for choosing the simulator or the factory over pleasuring his wife’s needs.

pascale walks away to answer the phone leaving you two alone, and he swivels the chair in your direction, “I did not know this would get you so horny.”

you feel heat spread across your cheeks. you try to pull the neck of the sweatshirt over your face to hide the embarrassment of being caught.

“when we get home—“

“you think I’ll last getting home?” you cut him off before he can propose his plan. his eyes widen, a smirk toys his lips as he shakes his head seeing his mother come back into the room.

“take the keys to the pista, you’re making this hard for me.” he tosses the keys into your lap, “it’s a private parking lot. you can finish what I started.”

“I’m almost done with him. you‘ll be able to go home in no time.” pascale promises and continues to trim his hair. you watch for another couple of minutes and now she’s finally getting ready to blow dry his wet hair.

you can’t watch any longer. you’ve made up an excuse to head to his car and wait out the final minutes. you’ve turned on the air in the car and sat in the passenger seat awaiting his arrival to take you home.

your leg anxiously bounces as you hear him whistling. he opens the passenger door, takes the knob that adjusts the seat, and pushes it as far back as it goes allowing him to kneel in front of your seat.

“Charles what are you doing?” you ask watching him close the passenger door once he’s in. it’s cramped. his head is just inches close to the top of the car, your legs are nearly into your lap and suddenly it’s warm in the car. the air must’ve kicked off after a period of time running.

“taking care of something.” he leans over your lap, letting the back of the seat go as far down as it can. he moves you closer to the edge of the seat, “lift your hips.” he demands and you do as he asks, allowing him to remove your shorts.

“Charles, we can’t do this in your car—“

“nobody is here.” he points out the very obvious. not another car is in this parking lot, and there’s not a single car that has drove down this street since arriving. you were as safe as you could be under the street lights.

“come on, let me treat you right.” he coos, fingers running up and down your thighs, “I did this to you.” he reaches into your lap, fingers toying with the wet material clung to your pussy, a whine threatening at your tongue.

“can I do that? can I touch my wife?”

you nod, unable to speak any words. you push you hips up again allowing him to remove your panties. you spread your legs as far wide as you can. his index finger stretches out across your folds. it’s like a ghost against your skin, you can feel him but barely. a soft whine escapes your lips, you lean back against the seat.

“good girl,” he whispers, “just relax for me.” he says. his index finger wiggles in your entrance. his name rolls off your tongue ever so quickly, and you feel him add a second finger not even giving you a chance to respond.

your fingers go flying into his freshly cut hair, and yank on the short ends. you curse him for what he’s done, and try to grab anything you can while his fingers pump inside of you. he takes his time, discovers every single bit of you like lost treasure. a place he hasn’t tended to in awhile.

sweet whines and moans escape your lips. it’s adorable how quick you were able to fold under his touch. all it ever really took was a swipe of his finger, tongue, or anything else to get your body to fold. you were his in the matter of seconds.

you feel one of his fingers just brush your clit. your back arches, pussy clenching around his fingers. you’re begging him to do it again, and again, until you come.

he doesn’t stop until he notices your legs are visibly shaking, the car is shaking from your bodies response, and until his fingers are met with cum.

“I can’t.” you breathe out, your body itches to exhale the sweet cum he ever so loves. he’s nodding along, encouraging you to come. you throw your body back against the seat, you feel the body of the car move as you do so. sweet delicious cum finally exits your body and so do his fingers.

“that was fun wasn’t it?” he licks his index and middle finger of your cum before pulling your set up close to where it was, and he’s getting out of the car. you quickly pull your shorts back up and double check your hair.

you look him in the eyes when he slides into the drivers seat. you can see the arousal in his pants, a content smile across his face, “don’t worry, you can take care of me when we get home. I’ve got an idea in my mind.”

[gracexthoughts]

headstrong

warnings; none really, fluffy, mostly unedited  summary; okay so i combined these two requests (kind of and i may still write another intrusion like fic another time) because King!Dad!Jace immediately infiltrated my mind and would not let go once I saw these  a/n; again, thank you all for the requests, i love them all and am excited to work on them but here is a little short drabble bc i couldn't not write this immediately 

“What?” the Princess Luceara exclaims, her dark violet eyes darting between her mother and father. 

“You are of age, Lucy,” the girl's mother sighs, adjusting in her seat; the weight of her growing stomach causing discomfort. “You must have known this an inevitability.” 

“You told me I could choose!” The princess fires back. Kingsguards had intercepted her on her way to the Dragonpit so she stands in her riding clothes, her light gray hair woven back into braids that hang around her shoulder. Her hair is darker than that of the typical Targaryen, but like her father, her dragon blood proves true as she rides her dragon and argues and commands with the fire of her house in her voice. 

“You may and will. All I’m saying is it's high time we begin the search,” Jacaerys states, watching his daughter. Fathers aren’t meant to have favorites but he adores his eldest, his darling girl, his only daughter. The day she came into the world was one of the most terrifying and beautiful of his life and he adores the woman she is becoming, even though she aggravates him so. 

“You’re a year elder than I was when I met your father,” the Queen says, glancing up at her husband who rests his hand on the back of her chair. 

“You were fortunate. Aunt Baela and Aunt Rhaena were fortunate! Most are not! And yet you are intent to sell me off!” Lucaera cries indignantly. 

“We are not,” Jacaerys yells loudly before stopping himself and lowering his voice, “selling you off. You must marry to secure your reign. It is a fact, irregardless of your gender. My mother did the same, if you recall your histories.” 

The princess’ eyebrow raises as she coldly stares down her father, her gaze defiant and hard. She watches as her father’s face transforms from the soft, if disgruntled, image of her father to the vision of the King. She grits her teeth, knowing this is a battle she will lose, today or in a moon, or a year but she will lose. The inevitability of her fate consumes her hot like dragon breath, choking her and wrapping around like chains. Her hard gaze falters but, ever headstrong, she turns on her heel, her gray curls and blood red coat swaying in her wake as she storms from the King’s chambers. 

Jacaerys sighs, leaning down on the table at the center of the room. The weight of rule weighs heavy on his shoulders but in truth, it's his familial duties he worries of most. Even decades past the Dance of Dragons and in the safety of the Red Keep, his memories haunt him. Every draw of a sword reminds him of battle. Every labor his wife endures sends him into a panic, memories of his mother’s cries echoing through the halls as she birthed his sister still ringing in his ears. He is only pulled from the depths of his memories by his wife’s touch on his shoulder as she comes to stand at his side. 

“She learned that look from you,” Jacaerys states, pushing up off the table to turn to his Queen. 

“She will come around, just as I did,” she says placatingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“It took nearly a year, if I recall correctly. And that was after we met,” the king reminds her, remembering all too well how she shunned him when they first met at seven and ten years of age. She’d give him the same look his daughter leveled at him just moments ago whenever he tried to chip away at her defenses. 

“Well then you better summon suitors to court or send her off on a tour soon,” the queen laughs lightly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. She sucks in a sharp breath suddenly, her hand rubbing at her bump. 

“How is the little dragon?” Jacaerys asks, his warm hands moving to rest on his wife, wishing he could take her pain from her and bear it himself. 

“Kicking like a goat,” the Queen laughs feebly, leaning into her husband's embrace. “The maesters now believe it's a girl.” 

“So I’m to have another daughter to rain seven hells on my will?” He jests, his amber eyes gazing upon his beloved queen. 

“You speak as if you did not do the same to your mother, and she to her father, and so on,” the queen laughs. “It is the way of eldests and one day, she will have her own child who will refuse to marry and run off to ride on dragonback at the slightest inconvenience.” Jacaerys laughs, a true hearty laugh that is music to his wife’s ears. He shakes his head and pulls him into her, cupping her face as their lips intertwine, their worries momentarily forgotten.

[yandere-wishes]

⚜ 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖! 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕩 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ⚜

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Been kinda depressed lately so this was all I could come up with.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : "Player of Games" by Grimes

𐙚 Would you still love me? Out on Europa? ~💜

☆★☆★☆★☆

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, whose lust for adventure leads him on a dangerous quest to rescue a poor kidnapped princess from the clutches of a deranged dragon. He's only ever sought out the thrill of the hunt, an adrenalin junkie desperate for the next rush. Fighting beasts and exploring new lands all for the sake of frivolity and adventure. But this time...this time things are different. His heart beats between his teeth when he catches a rogue glimpse of the fair maiden seated by the etched window. From the first look, he knows he'll fight hordes of monsters in her name, bring giants to their knees to gain her favor. From the first look, he knows he's in love...

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who kills the dragon and carries the princess home. All the way breathing in her intoxicating scent, he dreams of running his calloused fingers through her silky hair and whispering sweet poems of devotion into her ears. He asks for her hand from the king, practically begging him to let her be his bride. He needs her, more than anything else in this unholy world he needs her.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who still craves adventure even when he's married. Who drives himself crazy on the lost tunes of adventures. Beckoning, beseeching, it's as if demons screech within his cranium. He needs to feel the familiar cool of metal nipping at his flesh. To feel the weight of his sword within his palm once more. So he leaves. if only for a short time. Promising to bring his lover treasures unimaginable. If only it were that simple.

𝒴𝒶𝓃����𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who loses himself to the thrill once more. Fighting for a darling who is locked away again. He promises he's not the dragon, not some monster trying to keep her stowed away. She's back home with the king and queen ruling over a kingdom. It just so happens that her lover is fighting for that kingdom. Traversing new lands and bringing back priceless treasures. He does it all for her because he loves her

Maybe that's why it stings so bad when -on the rare occasion he's back home- his darling tells him, that she's been engaged once more. This time to a prince. The Knight has his fair share of scars, he's been wounded countless times. Yet memories recall no such wound that hurts as much as this one. When his darling informed him of her eagerness to be married off to a proper prince. It takes all his willpower to not strangle her then and there. The love of his life is to be married off to a spoiled brat who knows not of sword fighting and war. A boy seeped in gold and dotted on his whole life. He wouldn't be a good husband, he's too soft, too frail. He'd run once the monsters came. A mere prince can't protect his darling as he can.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, whose madness runs deep. He kills the king, the queen, and the prince. Declaring himself overlord. Conquer, conquer, conquer. It's the only way he knows to keep his darling by his side. His darling is a queen now. A queen in shackles and chains, but a queen never the less and one who will forever remain by his side.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who doesn't mind ruling as much as he previously thought. Who enjoys having his darling perched on his iron-clad lap as he proposes plans to capture new beasts for the kingdom's army. Who watches as his -and his darling's- kingdom prospers under their leadership. At night he holds her tightly, intoxicating himself with her sweet perfume once more. His heart races when he recalls how close he was to losing her.

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who is left heartbroken and enraged when he finds out his darling has escaped. Who hunts her down through enchanted woods and cursed terrains. When he finally catches her, he can't help but be reminded of chess, a move where the queen is finally captured. He kisses her deeply, wholly, trying to drown her in his love. Has she forgotten the romance they once shared? Has she forgotten the lengths he was gone -and will still go- for her? Oh, how careless he had been...

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, who will do anything for his precious princess, his darling queen, his beloved. Who will remind her just how emphatic his love truly is...

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

Join the tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@sapphirebarnes

@thedonswife13

@angelbabyyy99

@cjand10

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@evie-119

@mrsstuckyboo

@ghalouha

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@buckybarnessimpp

@milllieeee

@stormy-stardust

@ashdoctor

@mushycore

@crazyunsexycool

@anixerz

@mcira

@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

@pattiemac1

@elizalexwil

@ghalouha

@gingersnap-2

@whitexwolfxx310

@kaithesimps-blog

@marvel-wifey-86

@kumointhesky

@hnnhbananananana

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@nouis-bum

@julvrs

@thebuckybarnesvault

@saiyanprincessswanie

@unaxv

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[wandagcre]

Hii! How you doing?

I just read your drabble about mob!Sam reaction to reader asking for a divorce.

Could you do one were reader thinks the only way of getting away from Sam is being dead so she tries to k!lol herself and Sam finds her and she gets really scare because she might lose the love of her life, so after that she does everything to be a better wife for reader

if i break | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob!Boss Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You didn't know how much those four words would affect the following days for you and Sam. With your deteriorating mental state, Sam's punishment, and out of control aggressiveness, you're backed up in the corner, completely stuck.

WARNING: making out, suggestive content, groping, spanking, mild torture, conditioning, self-harm, suicide attempt Words: 2.5k Note: you can read this as a stand-alone bc it's an alternative scenario to the drive you mad series but those previous parts can give u better context! reminder to not actually put yourselves in this situation guys this is all (an unhealthy) fantasy

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

One would say you shouldn't be ungrateful—a roof over your head, jewelry and clothing that could solve a block's poor demise instantly, and a food to eat on your plate is the least of your worries. There's acres of space, just for you and your wife.

Sam provides everything imaginable to your heart's desire.

Yet, you feel yourself wither each day.

You've been punished by Sam that very day, when you courageously asked her for a divorce. You felt ridiculed for a short and humerous answer of the woman whom you've loved for a while. But even that couldn't sustain the foundation you built with Sam alone.

That same night, you found yourself being spanked and manhandled by the woman.

You've overheard of her tone and voice, the calculation in her cruel words  — how it roared affirmative and certain to follow through as she planned despite the protests by some of her inner circle, sometimes including her own right hand and sister, Tara, made your wife sound as though she's detached from humanity.

You regret learning an ounce from that day. You couldn't believe how you let yourself be in this sick charade, laying down beside this woman whom you once adored.

So, when Sam came home as usual, with her loosened tie and undone earrings, the thick tension resurfaced once again.

But she deeply craved your touch much as you do.

Although you obliged, knowing where it was headed from the start, you were blinded. After all there was an undeniable spark that you knew wouldn't easily go away with Sam's affection and the skill she had to pleasure you. You straddled Sam as your thumb caressed her baby hair, her soft kneading on your ass that only grew rough and sliding over your shorts to feel it bare as her kisses became needy and almost bruising.

What you didn't know was how Sam felt you were giving in as though it was a parting gift to her. The thought riled her up to an increasing madness.

She flipped you over, hovering beneath you and pushed your head against the soft mattress. It made you yelp at the force she exuded.

"I fought so hard to have you, amor!" Sam's frustrated voice roared in the master's bedroom, tears welling up your eyes. "What makes you think I'll let you get away this time? Maybe you're not bright enough if you think I would sign divorce papers from you," she angrily spat.

You felt so small. It was beyond suffocating as Sam and the way her fingers dug in your scalp as she pressed you down while within her grasp felt nothing more but terrifying.

"I-I don't feel good. Not for a while now, Sam." You admit, words slurring in your contorted mouth.

Sam gave you a mocking grin. "And I didn't wish to be this rough on you, sweetheart. But you've left me with no choice,"

She gave you a good spanking until the flesh of your ass was tender and stinging. By the end of it, you were sniffling and in tears. Sam didn't bother putting back your underwear, it was nothing but humiliating. She swiftly carries your weight like you're featherlight, your body slung over her shoulder. Your vision is upside down and you began to wail in protest, cold sweat ran through your body.

You didn't trust how Sam was handling you — this woman that stood before you didn't hold remorse nor familiarity and warmth you knew. Sam was akin to that first night she had you handcuffed. True enough, it was history repeating itself as you found yourself dropped in a smaller bed, enough to fit one, worst was how bits of it felt like an exposed space, sealing your deal in this prison-like room.

It was dowright ridiculous.

Sam firmly held you by the wrist, against the metal headboard. The clanking was continuous, you look up through your blurry vision, tears not stopping, you're cuffed.

"We go by a reward system here, sweetheart. Don't worry, I'll keep you fed. That is if — a big if — you won't lash out. All you have to say is you won't bring up a silly thing as divorce ever again." Sam patted your cheek, "Of course, you need to prove it by actions too. You're monitored. I'll be the judge of that." She motions over the camera at the corner of the room.

You wipe your nose, sniffling. "Isn't this too over the top?"

"Better vicinity, is all I'm going to say." Sam clicks her tongue, her body above you and one of her hands intimately placed on your bare stomach where your night gown slightly ridden up.

You had no phone inside, even the use of television was needed to be earned. Naturally, the almost empty space made you think a lot. It was few hours before you were freed from the cuffs.

It brought more realization that you were being isolated, completely tucked away from the existing relationships you've built with your friends. It happened slow and deliberate, that you found yourself hopeless to Sam's doings. Maybe she was even behind the unjustified killings from years ago, at your little town. Hell, maybe you were in denial all these time that Sam conjured on eliminating your mother figure from work, too.

You wouldn't be surprised anymore but the thought makes you retch.

The first few days was tough. You cried until you became exhausted. Soon it was futile and useless. You tried protesting by not eating at all, wondering what starvation will bring, only to be intervened by Sam herself. She kept you fed and bathed you, that you felt disgusted. Sam wasn't worthy to see your vulnerable state.

Sometimes, you rebelled against the trained women she sent in — at times where Sam couldn't make an exception to personally accommodate you. They let you angrily punch them, never fighting back, which made you smaller and invisible. These trained guards were obligated to report to Sam and so your punishment was still made.

You even tried memorizing the room. Attempting to knock at the walls to see if it had a weak spot, scanning as much as you can. Albeit, the windows itself were also useless. You should have known better that Sam would kept it close and bulletproof.

The depravation soon kicked in. You're conditioned at the reward she gave you that even a simple few hours of watching television made you a little bit at ease. Anything that came from outside world, you soaked it up. Nonetheless, you were treated like a pet.

But it didn't change your state, life still being sucked out of your very body.

One night, Sam was scrubbing your back clean as you sat at the bathtub. It was filled with silence, with occasional comments from Sam from the outside. She acted like everything was normal.

"Why are you doing this?" Was all you could say. You were tired.

The silence covered you two until you were in your towel, ready to dry off.

"This," Her index finger was in the middle of your chest. "Does not only beat for you, but a part of me as well." Sam continued, her voice tenuous and low. "You didn't know how your existence motivated me to survive that hell hole that my father sent me into. I need you back. I need my wife back. Isn't that all enough?"

"But what part of me do you need? Should I be stuck in that submissive and clueless, attending to your needs? Or did you want the girl that you left all those years?" You bravely confronted Sam, who was taken aback at your words.

At the end, you wouldn't take it all back. You wanted her to know—to fully simmer those thoughts.

You wanted to feel something and to end it all at the same time.

Sam had overlooked and underestimated your creativity. The cheap toilet was one of the things that was left unfinished for this spare room and it only took you to carry out its heavy lid, smashing the ceramic cover in pieces.

All you registered was the sharp piece against your soft skin, your knees that trembled and thudded against the hard floor. You feel your consciousness slipping, the fluttering of your eyes slow and uncontrable. Hopefully, to no return, you thought.

It was a blur, dreamless state. You were at peace for a while.

Though you had a small inkling that it won't last for long, you feel your mind waking up to consciousness. Your ears register the beeping of the electrocardiogram served as a white noise and your breathing sounded like it was contained. Opening your eyes, you see that you're tubed and one of your arms were infused with IV. You feel a gentle hold, on your unharmed forearm by Sam herself. She looked out of place, wearing your favorite cardigan as she slept soundly beside you.

When you moved and groaned, it stirred Sam to consciousness as well. You feel the fear brewing but it long vanished when your wife looked nothing but in complete distraught with tears spilling from her exhausted brown eyes — unlike you've ever seen before — temporarily stripped away from her cruelty and madness.

She held tighter on your forearm, but it was out of desperation and concern more than anything.

"You asked me and I never answered that day," Sam continued to sob. You see her physically restraining to hold all of you that it started to pain you. "I can't—I can never imagine being that stupid again. It could have been my last words and you suffered enough from me,"

"Sam... I could have asked better—" You protest as clarity hit you, but Sam's quivering lips halted you.

Your wife strongly shook her head in disagreement. "Nonsense. Let me finish, please. It was entirely my fault and mine alone for putting you in this situation and I never made myself much of safe space for you. But all I needed was everything you can offer. All of you, mi amor. I don't care if it was the girl I left, the one who changed, all I know is that I cannot do this life without you," She moves to bring your palm over her cheek. You feel Sam's fraught, her need to feel that you are tangible and beside her.

For a moment your anger and frustration with her had faded. It was a day full of crying, nonetheless.

Recovery was surprisingly better than you expected with Sam's improved presence around you. She was downright attentive to your needs, more than ever before. You need to pee? Sam was right by the door. You wanted to read or watch a movie? Sam could not care any less, she'll do work beside you, too. Most of the time, your wife would watch them with you, surprisingly even if she hates the genre. Were you craving for a specific food? Sam will go and get it for you.

You even joked that you wanted a foot massage but Sam took it seriously, immediately went to give you one.

"You know I'm not pregnant right?" You humorously told her. The way her head spun to your direction, flustered, had you uncontrollably smile.

Sam was taken aback. "W-What?"

"Don't you have work to do, whatever it is?"

"No. I can do them remotely, it's always been a flexible thing." I have my priorities sorted out much better now." Sam casually says. You've never seen her this carefree and it hit a pang of warmth and familiarity more than ever.

You nodded slowly. "Alright. But, can you stop acting like I'm fragile? I don't... I haven't thought of doing anything since then." The playfulness quickly faded from you.

You looked away and cannot help but glance over the healing wound on your forearm. You busied yourself with the film playing on screen. Sam opens her hand that was adjacent to your side, you don't fight the invitation and instead you make the move to hold it.

"I know you're not, mi amor. It's not that, it's just—" Sam sighed, though her eyes never left yours. "I don't want to spend remaining of my time with you by fighting or making you suffer ever again, even by the slightest just because I am greedy when it comes to you, amor. I want to make better memories, whether you choose to stay or not."

You don't reply and Sam was unchanging. All you knew is how it lifted a great weight on your shoulder.

You've never returned to the room where she kept you nor passed by the area. Interestingly enough, it was under construction again.

Days later, Sam remained at home. She didn't fail with the flowers and her gifts increasingly became thoughtful. It was between a new book of the genre you wanted, it could've been a trip to a place you mentioned. The most surprising so far was her first attempt of doing a crochet tulips for you.

It was a better sense of direction for the two of you. Sure you had needs, and the sexual tension and libido may have kicked in, but it felt like you were in a courting phase. It annoyed you sometimes, how your wife pranced in almost nothing and you were just to stare.

Though if you asked, Sam wouldn't hesitate to tell you—whether it was work, or something personal you've always been too shy or afraid to do so from the past. If you asked to burn the world, Sam would've handed you the gas and the lighter.

That's why you were taken aback during a particular rainy day, you perked up at the sound of the door and saw Sam who came back with nervous smile on her face and a new material on her other hand. She handed you a manila envelope and followed you as you took it and sat on one of the chairs at the dining area.

You curiously took it and opened it, your throat quickly dried, loss at words as you saw that it was the divorce papers you've been asking for. It made you suddenly stand up straight.

"It's only a choice up to you now. No dirty games from me, I swear on it." Sam made a sign of oath. You looked at her with the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "If you want, I can send you best of my men, back to your town for extra measure. Not to update me! Just because, well, you've been associated to me for quite some time." She rubbed her neck in what appears to be out of shame.

You incredulously looked at Sam's face. To be back from the life you have been taken away from, to reunite with people that you've missed... but it also meant being away from Sam and to no longer call her your wife—it felt sickening. You were coming around to closely forgiving her, to giving her another chance as she proved herself better than before. You doubt that this woman can actually hurt you again, after all.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you courageously grabbed Sam by the collar of her shirt. "Fuck you, Sam Loomis. Don't mess around like this."

"I'm not complaining, but I don't understand..." Sam murmured as you pushed the double door, leading her to the bed.

You two ended up catching on much needed passionate touches and sinful nights you've deeply missed with the woman. Your soul was ignited with each kiss Sam has left your neck, every touch had set you on fire. Funnily enough, the roles were reversed. You cannot be parted away from her, your arm slung and secure over her nape. What moved you the most was her kissing away the now-scarring form on your forearm.

The divorce papers? Somewhere lying on the floor, completely forgotten.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[morning-star-joy]

Do you ever plan on writing maybe a little pregnancy one shot for our ASHWAH babies? 🥺🫶🏽

So I did actually write a little something playing with the idea last year, but it got buried in my docs and I forgot about it until now! Not an actual pregnancy, but just a short drabble of Joel thinking about it. Here it is!

give you my wild, give you a child

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Joel imagines another kind of life.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI Mentions of previous smut. Joel is a breeding kink legend. Thoughts of pregnancy and body changes through pregnancy. Pregnancy kink.

Wordcount: 1k

A/N: Just a gentle reminder that ASHWAH pregnancy is not canon! It's just an AU exploration, and you do not have to consider it their ending if you don't want it to be. Any direct sequel won't have it <3

Important: Please read this post before engaging with any of my fics. How you can help Palestine.

Joel was trying hard not to think about it.

He had been trying so very hard not to think about it for months now.

But she was making that an extremely difficult task.

Especially with the way she was holding Hope right now, balancing Tommy’s one-year-old daughter on her knees, gently bouncing her up and down with a bright smile at the baby’s giggles that filled the air.

It was one of the many times the two had taken up babysitting their goddaughter, while Tommy and Maria got some much needed rest. But each time Hope was in their house—because that’s what it was now, their house, as she had hardly left it since that night in front of the fireplace when they had finally given into each other—Joel felt an ache in his chest.

That ache slowly grew into an unfamiliar longing, one that only deepened whenever the baby was balanced on her hip as she talked to the child, or rocked her to sleep in her arms.

Joel wasn’t an idiot. He knew how impractical it was, even with how happy they all were to have Hope in their lives.

He knew it wasn’t even something that she really wanted, or at least not the last time they had actually talked about it.

God, no, had been the words she sputtered when he had off-handedly asked her about it in Hope’s nursery a year before, long before they had fallen for each other as fully, as completely as they did.

But he knew how much their goddaughter meant to her, how much her natural instinct of a protector kicked in around the baby, much like his own.

And then there was that one night, when she had worn that lace that he still dreamed about, a memory that possessed his mind whenever they were apart. The way it laid against her skin, sticking to her cunt with her own release when she rode his thigh with a desperation that only became needier when he slipped his cock inside her, and words he’d never forget fell from her lips.

You’d like to put your baby in me, hm?

He’d nearly lost his goddamn mind when she said it, fucking into her with abandon, filthy words he’d never even dreamed of uttering to her streaming from his lips.

And she fucking loved it, begged for it, that pussy that he worshipped squeezing his cock tighter than he’d ever felt as she came from the promises he made of filling her up until it took.

So maybe…

No, Joel thought firmly, trying to cut off that line of thought before his mind could wander down it again, like it had every time they’d taken care of his brother’s child the past few months. He had to stop his brain from concocting an image that was far too sweet, too innocent and idealistic to ever be true.

But as she lifted Hope into the air, grinning up at the baby with a softness on her face he never saw with anybody else—he wondered.

He wondered how she would look with another child in her arms, a precious life made up of both of theirs. Maybe one with his strong nose, and her sharp eyes. Or his stern brow, and her striking hair.

Her hair that he so loved to admire night after night, along with every inch of her, his hands gently running over the body that had become a home to him, while she drifted off to sleep under his familiar touch.

As his fingers skimmed across her chest and down to her stomach some nights, Joel imagined if by some bizarre twist of fate, after one of their heated moments of passion where they got carried away in him filling her up, that it did take.

He pictured the swell of her breasts as she lay naked in their bed; soft, tantalizing flesh that would only grow fuller. The same way her whole body would slowly change, her stomach rounder because of him, as she—

“Joel?”

Blinking rapidly, he was pulled sharply from his silly daydreams, shaking his head to bring himself back to the present and focus on the love of his life as she stood in front of him.

Her eyebrow was arched as she looked over him with a question in those piercing eyes. Hope was balanced on her hip, the baby’s fingers gripping onto her hair, and Joel’s breath caught in his throat. He keenly felt that ache of longing again as she gently removed the small, chubby fingers from her hair and held out the baby to him.

“Can you hold her for a bit?” she asked, and Joel accepted Hope into his arms without question, even though in the back of his mind he kept picturing how it would feel to pass that child from his imagination, the one with some unique mix of their features, between them. “Gotta pee.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, mumbling an affirmative, “No problem.”

Still, she watched him for a moment longer, glancing over his face before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Your mind’s a mile away today,” she mumbled, pulling back to move away, but not before Joel could wrap his free arm around her waist. He brought her back in for a proper kiss, no matter how quick the peck on the lips was so she could run to the bathroom.

“My bad,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze to look down at Hope, even as he felt the familiar intensity of being analyzed by his woman before she moved away.

“Let me see inside your head later,” she called over her shoulder, her voice only half-teasing as she moved towards the bathroom. “I wanna see what has my man so far from planet earth.”

Joel stiffened, holding his breath until he heard the bathroom door close, and only then did he exhale sharply, lifting one hand from where he had brought Hope securely against his chest to rub his thumb and forefinger across his eyes.

Fuck.

[costelloschoice]

General Mizu headcanons -Mizu x fem!reader -sfw and nsfw headcanons + my thoughts :], kinda long? but aye, more content -pls, reminder these are my takes, and I would love to hear your in the comments <3

-comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

Sfw:

took her awhile to open up fully to you. Like about everything- probably hide her fav food from you too

speaking of food, she probably is a terrible cook and would love if you can cook for her

I can imagine Mizu burning a pot of water

I tried to do my research and look into this, but I think Mizu is about 5'4

if you're shorter than her, she'll definitely have a confidence boost and feel she has to protect you always- she already does but...you're short and tiny...so she must

If you're taller, she's putty in your hands when you two are alone but she will still kick someone's ass for you

If you're not trained in the martial arts or any good with swords, she'll teach you

If Mizu is teaching you before you two are official, she'll be rougher and stricter with her teaching. She wants you to be the best and have a good chance to learn to protect yourself

Now if she is teaching you after you two are dating, she'll still be strict but definitely a bit more gentle

"Do it again...You almost had it, try again I know you can do this"

Nicknames for you? I feel she would mostly call you by your name, but she would also call you "my pearl" or "my dove"

Pls play with her hair plsplsplsplsplsplspls

She's a sucker for a massage due to her battles and training but only from you

but!!!!!

The first time you saw her without her male persona/ identity sent her in panic mode. You knew her as this strong, tough masculine man...but here you are, happening to stumble upon her wearing nothing and seeing her...lady parts

She already started to develop feelings for you by that time and so have you, but at the knowledge you think she's a boy. Gay stuff is already a 'no-no' to a lot of people, so would it be a 'no-no" for you??

of course not- doesn't matter if they're male or female, it's still Mizu at the end of the day

once you accept her, she truly feels seen for once

This woman will and always lay down her life for you.

She'd probably die then come back to life for you cause she loves you that much

I do feel she would be distant in the beginning. We all know how her last marriage went...She doesn't want to be hurt again

Once you show her you're in for the long run, she'll become lovable and clingy

LET HER BE FEMININE PLS PLS

She barely got to explore her feminine side with Mikio (rat bastard) cause of what happened

Dress her up and make her feel pretty <3

I have a feelign she can be really childish when comfortable with you- play wrestle with her to burn off some energy

She will want to duel with you, but never lets it go too far

If she ever pulls that same shit she did with Mikio, and she has the sword to your throat...I feel she will get flashbacks and get nervous how you'll react

but is soon pulled out of those memories when you laugh and say she wins and you kiss her <3

Nsfw

now the yummy part lol

IDC SHE'S A SWITCH

no one will change my mind, no one could ever think of changing my mind

In the Edo period of Japan, sex toys were there to use and have fun. Now, I actually looked it up and ruined my web history for this because of the shunga I saw

STRAP ON- either Mizu using it on you or you using it on her, either way it's a good time

She definitely can and will be rough and dominate. She's used to be taking control to getting what she wants

Doesn't mean she can't be soft and sensual, you are her love after all, and sex is something for both to enjoy. She would love to just be soft with you

She will spank that ass, idc

Now, like I said, I actually looked a lot of this stuff up...

Double sided dildo for the both of you to use. For her, it's almost embarrassing cause you are seeing her reactions but she also LOVES this since it's so intimate to her, so hold her hand while you two do it

Going off the last one, I feel she would be trying to cover her face or her mouth sometimes...don't let her

With that one episode, we know she's loud and her eyes roll back...it's canon...so hit her with that dumb dick and make her roll her eyes back

Tie her up...that's all

Her fingers are long and slender, good for fingering your cunt and rubbing your clit

Loves having you in her lap and fingering you late at night, especially if there are other people around. Gives her the chance to cover your mouth and whisper in your ear to tease you

"You like that?...You like the fact anyone could catch us right now, and they'd see my fingers fucking this pussy..?”

Dw you'll give her the same treatment

When you finger her, she's whiny, holding onto your other hand tightly

Praise her breast- whether you have bigger breast or not, still show love to her peaches

Kiss them, suck on them, whatever..love on them

I don't think she would ever consider sharing you with another person like ever

I can imagine her talking a big game, but your first time? She’s a wreck, she wants everything to be perfect

Yeah technically she's not a virgin but she doesn't want to mess anything up with you

Favorite position? I think she likes taking you in missionary but likes to be bent over when she subbing

After you give her sum backshots, pls give her the softest aftercare

She will be clingy after, so let her cling to you like a koala

In the end, Mizu is the best girlfriend boyfriend ever <3

[notyourhetloki]

struggle (Daemon x Wife!Reader)

Reader: she/her (Fem!Reader)

/NSFW Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader/

A/N: Not requested but I'm obsessed with this man… it's a little dark but I hope you like it! Also, it's probably ooc, sorry!

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), dub-con, rough sex, dacryphilia, piv sex (unprotected), mentions of violence, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 1.8k

—

When Daemon realized he was marrying you, he promised himself he would make your life hell. He didn't even know you and had no reason to begrudge you, but your family... he hated your family.

A bunch of gold diggers, he would say, only interested in status. Maybe your parents were just that, but you only wanted to play your part as a good wife... but Daemon would deny you that.

After the wedding, instead of spending the night with you, he went straight into his whore's arms. Not that he didn't find you alluring, extremely attractive even... but he wanted to humiliate you, and it worked.

Not only didn't he consummate your marriage, he treated you poorly, to say the least. Daemon made you feel insignificant like he hated you for something you didn't even do.

You were tired of his rudeness, his emotional abuse. You were kind, gentle even... but you were reaching your limit.

One night at a festivity, you decided to dance. It didn't matter the partner, you just wanted to have fun. It didn't even occur to ask for your husband's approval, he didn't seem to care.

But he did... deep down his pride was shaken when he saw you with another man, laughing and twirling around. How dare she, Daemon would think.

He followed you to your chambers afterward, intruding on your space and angrily shouting horrid accusations at you. You calmly tried explaining yourself but your tranquility only made him angrier, causing him to point his finger at you. "I didn't know I had married a wench!"

And that was it, your temper exploded in a burst of fury that had been boiling for months now. You slapped him hard across the cheek, his face turning sideways at the impact. He slowly turned to look at you, fire in his eyes.

"Compare me to one of your whores again and I'll cut your tongue out myself!" You hissed. Daemon was... shocked, a pleasant sensation creeping into his core. His teeth appeared in a menacing grin, reminding you of a dragon ready for battle.

Daemon loved humiliating you, especially because you were an easy victim, always too good to him even when he didn't deserve it. But now... you were showing your teeth.

"Now get out, leave me be." You waved to the doors, completely unaffected by his intimidating glare. He admired your wits, found it provocative, enticing.

Daemon looked at your eyes for any sign of weakness, but he couldn't find any... you were stronger than he anticipated. He slowly made his way out of your chambers, and that night was a restless night for the prince.

The next few days were... strange. Daemon would follow you everywhere, suddenly interested in your routine, even treating you decently for once.

But you weren't buying any of that, cutting his advances out quick and short. He only smiled at your dry responses, and that infuriated you even more.

One night Daemon dared to pursue you into your chambers, creeping like a shadow. He slowly made his way behind you, lightly grabbing at your waist and pulling you towards his chest while smelling your hair.

You quickly thrust your elbow into his ribs, causing him to back up while wincing in pain. "Fucking hell!"

You quickly turned around, looking into his eyes. "What do you want from me, Daemon?"

His hands covered his chest, still breathing from the sharp pain you had caused... he looked infuriated. "Heaven's sake, I only thought... I wanted to finally consummate our marriage. It's about time, don't you think?"

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, you were incredulous. After all that time, he had the guts to even consider that? You couldn't be more mad.

"You were not capable of consummating our marriage then, what makes you think you could do it now?" You said audaciously, but Daemon didn't take offense.

Instead, he grew closer to you. The look he had on his face... wild desire burning in his eyes. He was a menace, but you couldn't look away.

"Because I finally find you interesting now..." His voice low and quiet, like he was telling you a secret. It made you shiver.

You couldn't deny it, you were physically attracted to him. He was extremely handsome, an exotic kind of beauty that was admired by you and many others... but you hated his guts. It was quite a conundrum, to want to kiss and kill him at the same time.

"Well, it's too late now." You knew deep down you wanted him, wanted to finally legitimate your marriage, but you were stubborn. You wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you.

"Is it?" He grew even closer and lifted your chin up slightly with his fingers, licking his lips and admiring your pretty, angered face.

Without breaking eye contact, you defied him. "I despise you."

Daemon only looked at you for a few more seconds before lunging at you, grabbing the sides of your face and kissing you hard. He was hurting you, but a part of you was craving for that moment... the moment when he finally wanted you.

Rage bubbled inside your body, you didn't know what to think. You wanted to hate the man for what he did to you, but couldn't deny the burning desire for his attention.

You pushed Daemon several times before he let go, laughing at himself. He enjoyed your struggle, made things more compelling. "Your true colors are showing, (y/n)."

"Go to hell!" You yelled, but that was proven to be the wrong attitude. He charged at you once again, pinning you into a wall. He kissed and bit on your neck while his hands frantically roamed your body, grabbing at your hips, ass, breasts...

"Get your hands off me!" You tried pushing him off but to no avail, he was stronger and bigger than you. He soon came back to your mouth, ravishing your lips and introducing his tongue inside you.

You protested, but not for long.

As soon as his tongue touched yours you felt an incredible heat spreading through your body, radiating energy to your most sensitive areas. It felt humiliating, your body was enjoying something you knew you should hate.

You grabbed the hair at his scalp and kissed him back, humming in his mouth. He smiled into your lips, victorious.

Daemon started unclothing you frenetically, ripping the seams of your dress while doing so. You yelped as you felt his hands on your skin for the first time, cold rough hands contrasting your soft warm body.

When all your layers of clothing were off, you felt shame rising to your face. He was your husband, he had the right to see you naked, but still...

"Look at you..." He said to himself, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto the mattress. You tried to get up but he towered over you, trapping you under his body. "Where do you think you're going?"

You covered your chest with your hands and with a swift movement, you spat at his face, right on his cheek.

"Ha... that was rude." Daemon only thrived at your efforts, it only made him excited. He cleaned your spit with his fingers and then licked them clean.

Suddenly, he grabbed your neck with one of his hands. Enough pressure to hurt but not enough to leave you dizzy, he just wanted to make a point. "You are mine, whether you like it or not."

He kissed you abruptly, bruising your lips with his force. You reciprocated again, and he rubbed his crotch against yours.

"And I think you quite like it..." He taunted, and you moved your hand to pull at his hair. He hissed and tightened his grip on your neck, a warning. "Behave, now... or I won't be so gentle next time." If that was his 'gentle'... imagine what the 'rough' would look like.

Daemon continued grinding his hips against yours, causing sweet friction to appease your nerves. It felt good, and the struggle only made you hotter... it was a hard thing to admit it, but you were enjoying yourself.

You moaned against his mouth, and he smiled once again. "Shut up!" You exclaimed before he even said anything, and he laughed.

His free hand managed to take his cock out of his pants, big and hard. Daemon started to rub it against your sex, and he soon noticed how wet you were. "Putting up a fight just to excite me, what a dirty girl..."

Tears formed in your eyes from anger, you never anticipated giving in to what he wanted. You wanted to resist him, to prove to him you weren't his toy... but you just couldn't.

He swiftly introduced his member inside you, entering without easing you in. You gasped, a mild pain blooming in your insides, the feeling of him stretching you out... all of it, it felt so good.

With one hand still grasping your neck, he started moving. In and out, quick and rough. The obscene sounds your bodies made echoed through the room, accompanied by your moans.

You were leaving nail marks on his back, tears falling down your cheeks while you whined in pleasure... he licked them clean.

Daemon then lowered his other hand to abuse your most sensitive spot, rubbing it in the rhythm of his thrusts.

It was then that you gave up, completely succumbing to him. You practically screamed, begging him to not stop.

"That's my girl..." He was looking into your eyes that entire time, but decided to kiss you right before your orgasm came. A kiss so hungry that made you sure... he wanted you. Finally, he wanted you.

You came hard around his cock, moaning his name and crying even more tears, but this time from pleasure. The feeling of your walls clenching around him was enough to make him cum as well, groaning while tightening his grip on your neck, spilling his seed inside you.

Daemon soon relaxed, collapsing over you. The compression calmed you down, grounded you. He sniffed the crook of your neck, biting lightly at your shoulder.

You both stayed there for a good few moments, basking in the sound of your breathing until it occurred to you... you had consummated your marriage.

"There's no turning back now, you know." You said out loud, hoping he would listen.

"What?" He responded in a groggy voice, almost asleep.

"We are husband and wife now. You better treat me as such." You commanded, caressing his back on the parts you had scratched.

"Or else?" Daemon taunted, wanting to see your reaction.

"Or else I will kill you in your sleep." Your response was dry but casual like you were talking about the weather, and he appreciated it.

Daemon laughed, kissing your shoulder and looking up at you. You smiled at him, kissing his forehead.

—

[cc--2224]

older hunter x reader pregnant in pabu

Next Steps

Pairing: Hunter x F! Reader

Summary: Following the events on Mount Tantiss, Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch are finally able to relax and enjoy the time they have, you and Hunter decide that means planning next steps together.

Warnings: All fluff, slight anxiety mentions, obviously pregnancy mentions as that was the request, maybe slight S3 Finale spoilers?

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Thank you so much for sending a request, anon!! I really hope you enjoy it!! As a reminder, my requests are going to be open for a bit so send me some if you'd like! :)

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added

Masterlist

Ever since they had landed on Pabu for the last time, they had all finally begun to relax, to plant roots, to get to know the villagers. Even Crosshair had seemed more open to socializing with the locals, to learning their trades.

Hunter had always had trepidations about getting too comfortable. 

Back when you had first met, a few years ago now, he expressed that he wanted to get adjusted, to finally sit down and relax but he always felt as if he was looking over his shoulder.

When the island had been attacked by the Empire, you understood what he meant. But everyone was still determined to keep each other, and their mercenary friends, safe.

Part of you feared that when they left to go get Omega back that it was the last time you would ever see them, whether that meant that they wouldn't put Pabu in danger and kept themselves away, or worse. You didn't want that, not only because you liked having them around, liked hearing their stories, sharing meals, but because you knew that you had developed feelings for Hunter in the short time you knew each other. 

You couldn't recall a time where you were more worried for someone's safety than you were after they had left Pabu to find Omega.

You wanted to protect him, to make him feel safe on the island, but you also knew that with everything they had experienced, that was easier said than done.

It only became more difficult once you began to fear you'd lose him for good.

So when they finally returned, you decided to throw caution to the wind. You didn't want anymore missed opportunities, he had to know how you felt about him.

You waited for them to leave the Imperial shuttle, and as soon as he emerged on the gangplank, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him and crashing your lips into his.

He was rightfully surprised, but after the initial shock wore off, you felt his arms on your back, pulling you into him and feeling like they were going to crush you. He kissed back with desperation and relief washing over him.

When you finally broke apart, you held his face in your hands while his hands stayed firmly on your waist. You felt your eyes water, and you saw the same in him. 

"I'm home." He finally said. "And I'm never leaving you again."

It had been years since then, and true to his word, he never left you. He eventually moved his belongings into your house, and the two of you settled into the next stages of your domestic life together. You got to watch as your lives seemed to fall into place. The island changed around you, improvements, infrastructure, villagers’ families growing. Hunter began growing out his beard, no longer concerned about hating the feeling of facial hair against the helmet that he rarely ever put on. 

Things became simple, time slowed, your lives could finally begin.

You still remembered the conversation you had one afternoon, sitting on the front porch with him, watching Omega play with Lyana, Batcher, and the other three clone children. 

"Do you want one of our own?" He had asked, looking at you earnestly.

You raised an eyebrow, "Want one what?"

"A kid."

You smiled at him and glanced over to the kids playing.

"We have Omega," you reminded him and he chuckled.

"I know, and she'll always be our kid, but she's growing up. Won't be long until she starts living her own life." He looked down at his lap and you reached over to hold his hand, you knew how much the thought of Omega leaving upset him.

"I don't think she'd mind having a little brother or sister." He said when he looked back at you.

"No, I don't either." You drew him close and kissed him on his lips, showing him your agreement to his idea. 

— — —

"Hunter? Are you home?" You called out from the entryway to your house. You were met with silence and shrugged.

Must have gone out.

You had gone to the doctor that morning on Hunter's insistence. He had been hovering around you for a few weeks, as if he had been waiting for a shoe to drop. He didn't know what it was about you that was different, something in your scent, or a change in your pulse, something that he could sense but couldn't pinpoint the source.

You knew better than to argue with his keen senses, but you couldn't help but get a little annoyed with his overprotection.

The doctor had confirmed that you were pregnant, only a few weeks along, and you nearly cried at the news. You couldn't wait to tell Hunter, even if you knew he'd tell you he knew you should have gone to the doctor earlier. 

You decided to wait for him at home. You put on some tea and grabbed your datapad before sitting on the couch.

He finally walked through the door with some produce from the market, smiling at you when he saw you. He walked past you, but not before kissing the top of your head, and left the groceries in the kitchen.

"I went to the doctor's this morning." You did your best to keep your tone level, ambiguous.

It worked, seeing as how his cheerful demeanor had vanished completely when he poked his head out.

"...And?"

You stood up and looked at him. "Hunter, I–" your voice wavered, partially due to excitement, but partially due to nerves.

"I'm pregnant." 

His eyes widened as he looked into yours, then down to your stomach, then back up to your face. "You– What?"

Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby!"

He crossed the room before you could even register that he had moved. His arms circled your waist and you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and spun.

When he placed you back down, he pulled you to him and kissed you. Tears began rolling down your face as you laughed into the kiss. 

He looked at you and swept his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away the tears even though his own nearly betrayed him.

You didn't hear the door open, but you heard Omega's voice ring out behind you.

"Is everything okay?"

You both looked at her, you smiled and nodded before opening your arm for her to join your hug. 

She did without hesitation.

"Omega," Hunter began. "Remember how I asked if you'd be alright if there was another kid running around?"

She looked at him and nodded, but then her eyes widened in realization and she looked at you, then Hunter, and then back to you.

"You're not–"

"I am." More tears fell as she wrapped her arms around you. 

"Congratulations!" Her smile widened as she looked at both of you. "I have to go tell Crosshair and Wrecker! They owe me ten credits each!"

She ran out the door before you could stop her and you looked at Hunter and shook your head.

"The whole island will know before long." You sighed.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Are you ready?" You asked him cautiously.

He looked at you, thinking for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. I mean, it's been a while since we've settled in here, but sometimes it still feels like the peace isn't going to last. I know that's just my own anxieties, but it's hard to shake the feeling, you know?"

You nodded and looked down. He put his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple.

"But, we have each other through this. I won't let anything happen to you, or our kid. So I think I am. It helps knowing how much support they'll have when they get here. And how wonderful of a mother they're going to have." 

You leaned into his chest. "And father." 

You felt a laugh rumble from him. This was the next step for both of you, and it was a scary step to take, but despite Hunter's worries, you knew you were both ready to face this together. 

[pixiesfz]

I feel so honored that some of my ideas may have inspired the part 5… are we getting a part 6 because now I’m invested and need to see them figure this out

guys I had another study today so I wrote part 6

help me? j.f

plot: You need Jessie's help with your injury part 6 of this

warnings: none

“Can you help me?”

The word’s repeated over a hundred times in Jessie’s head before she responded “always” she muttered as she looked into your tearful eyes.

The injury was hurting you.

The injury she gave you because of her recklessness.

“Can you grab the shampoo and conditioner it’s under the shelf” you told her, calming down after the knowledge that Jessie was there for you.

She quickly did so and put them in the shower door, not caring that her arm got wet as it hit the water.

You knew what was coming next as Jessie put her hands on your shoulders, rubbing her thumbs across the straps of your sports bra.

“You can always shower in it” she whispered softly but you shook your head “it would be harder to get off if it was wet,” you told her and she nodded, it was true.

“Do you need help?” she asked and you looked down and nodded “You’ve seen me naked before Jess” you said with a soft smile and she laughed lightly “This is different” she said and you nodded “I know”.

Jessie breathed in out of nerves when her hands found the waistband of your shorts “You sure?” she asked again and you nodded.

But you weren’t nervous.

She slowly pulled down your shorts, leaving you now in your bra and underwear, her fingertips feeling like father as it dragged down your legs. When she came back up you stumbled on your good leg, causing Jessie to reach out and grab your waste as your hands found her shoulders.

“sorry” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact as she stared down at her hand on your waist “You’re okay Y/n” she promised, lifting her hand to grab your chin, turning it towards her “It’s just me,” she said and you both blushed.

“yeah but I’m the only one that’s going to be naked” you lightly scoffed and Jessie stepped back and shrugged “No you won't,” she said simply and grabbed the shirt she had been wearing and pulled it over herself revealing her sports bra and ab’s that she had clearly been working on since she had gone to Portland.

She took off her shorts before looking at you again “Now we’re even” she breathed and you nodded, a blush still spread across both of your cheeks as she stepped towards you again.

“lift your arms” she smiled and you did so “I could’ve done this part,” you told her and she shrugged “You asked for my help,” she said with a slight smirk “Yeah and now I’m regretting it” You smirked back as she found the bottom of your bra and lifted it over your head, revealing yourself, Jessie couldn’t help but look until you caught her “Jessie” you reminded her and she shook her head “sorry” she said before going to lift her own but you stopped her.

“Let me” you said, putting your hands over hers, waiting for her nod of approval and when she did you delicately hooked your fingers underneath the band, your fingers grazing over her skin and lifting it over her head.

This time it was you who couldn’t help yourself as she cocked her head teasingly “Sorry” you said, quickly looking away as she laughed at your actions.

“You were always shy” she smiled not knowing what those words did to you.

Jessie didn’t really think with her words when she brought up your ex-relationship, especially hinting at your sex life but you didn’t mind.

To be honest you were thinking of the same thing.

“shut up” you laughed, blush spreading across your cheeks before she went down to take your underwear off and then herself and helped you into the shower her behind you.

It wasn’t a big shower and it wasn’t made to fit two people so when you both got in it didn’t feel very spacey but you didn’t mind and neither did she.

You both had a gorgeous girl in front of you.

“Wash your hair first?” she asked and you nodded “Please” Jessie smiled as you turned away from her so she could have access to your hair, as she put the Shampoo on your hair you tilted your head back “Can you do it like you used to do it?” you asked as you remembered the relaxation it used to give you “I already was” she smiled and pushed your head back up playfully before tangling her fingers into your hair as you let out a relaxed moan.

You had no idea of the effect it would have on Jessie.

She pulled on some parts of your hair which you hummed at before she used your waist to turn you around “All in” she smiled and you closed your eyes in contentment “I missed that” you hummed and Jessie looked at you with an unreadable expression as you rinsed it all out.

“Jessie?” you asked as her look went down to your lips, you followed her eyes to her own as it finally dawned on you f how intimate this whole ordeal was.

“Jessie?” you asked again softly, leaning into her embrace until your lips met, you felt your heart start to beat faster and the shower beads fall down your face as Jessie’s hands roamed your body and yours to her hair which she moaned at.

You wanted this.

God, you wanted this so bad.

You had missed this, for a whole year.

But you didn’t know what it meant.

You pulled back, ignoring Jessie’s confused glare. “I thought you-“ “I do” you cut her off “But not like this,” you told her “Let me take you out on a date, I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you said, rushing your words out in case you got too scared and stopped yourself.

“I can’t let this be a one-time thing” you stated, and Jessie stepped back

“Okay,” she blushed “but can I please kiss you again?”

Laughing you nodded and leaned into her again “I missed this” she said in between kisses as you both smiled into it.

For the first time in a year, you slept with a smile on your face.

[redskull199987]

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation. 

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row. 

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

 But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time. 

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

[v3x-y0urs3lf]

Our life N&F Soft moments with Step 3 Tamarack and Qiu

For anyone wondering before they read, There's:

one (1) Tamarack headcanons

one (1) Tamarack (short) scenario

one (1) Qiu headcanons

one (1) Qiu (short) scenario

one (1) headcanon with BOTH Qiu and Tamarack

one (1) SHORT scenario with BOTH Qiu and Tamarack.

This is me trying to makeup for the fact I haven't posted in a while and I STILL don't have my boundaries/request list uploaded and ready yet (I SWEAR I ACCEPT REQUESTS.)

This is before step 3 has been published so I'm just going off my own headcanons and theories on the characters.

Also, Qiu uses They/Them in this post BECAUSE both them (and reader) are painting nails.

You should be able to read this as either platonic or romantic, I didn’t mention ‘dates’ or any genuine romance - So knock yourselves out while reading this.

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

Braiding hair!!

Whether you're a friend or a lover, I think she'd allow those close with her to braid her hair or at least use her hair as an example when braiding it. No matter how hard you accidentally pull it or if you stuff up and end up having to do it again, she just chuckles and reminds you that patience is key and that 'slow and steady win the race'.

With Miss Tamarack Baumann, time almost stops. Whether you're deep in thought and trying to keep total concentration whilst braiding her orange strands of hair or if there's light chatter amongst the two of you, Tamarack doesn't mind. It's just like how her Omi always says, "Sometimes everyone needs 5 minutes."

Maybe you have long-ish hair too? Great! Tamarack (With your permission) will braid your hair after you finish with hers! She doesn't mind French Braids, Box braids, Dutch, Micro, Cornrow, She may need a bit of assistance to learn, but better late than never!

No matter how short your hair is or what texture your hair is, her fingers work her magic and it genuinely feels like a fairytale when Tamarack is able to produce some of the best braids you’ve ever SEEN.

Miss Tamarack is just so, so sweet and gentle about it all. The moment feels so tender, with her hands gently running through your hair, complete silence for a moment before she speaks in that soft and comforting tone you've practically memorized by this point.

"Ah, Sorry." You wince as you accidentally tug a little to harshly on Tamaracks hair, gently rubbing her scalp as to (hopefully) relieve some of the pain you may have accidentally caused. The only response you get is a soft chuckle being elicited from the girl in front of you. "Good lord, MC, I'm fine. You didn't pull that hard..." Tamarack smiled, barely looking over her shoulder to look at you as you unraveled her strands of hair and started again. The two of you had been at this for a bit now, about 15 minutes or so. You both had made plans to go to the knew crepe shop opened in town and offered to help Tamarack get ready.

Tamarack tilted her head slightly and made eye contact with you from the mirror at her vanity. "I'm not fragile, y'know?" Whilst Tamarack was soft, nurturing, soft-spoken, She was anything BUT fragile.

Tamarack Baumann? The same Tamarack Baumann who used to run around and hide in piles of leaves in the woods? The SAME Tamarack Baumann who didn't mind when batter or such got on her clothes when she was baking? The same Tamarack Baumann who would just say 'they're just clothes.' when doing arts and crafts? THAT Tamarack Baumann?

"I know." You could only whisper in a quiet tone as her soft eyes met yours. She gently turned around, taking your hands into hers with a sweet smile. She no longer had her braces from when she was 14, no longer had her overwhelming insecurities or big anxieties about the world. Tamarack was content and this was enough for her to be able to live her days without too much stress.

“I’m not made of glass. I don’t need you to treat me like I’m my Omi’s fine China.” Tamarack snickered. She couldn’t help but tease you over this. Tamarack was no longer the small child or young teen with terrible insecurities. She had grown into a fine young woman and was ready to live her own life.

Whether her relationship with you was romantic or platonic, she knew she’d want you to be with her every step of the way. After all, You were her first friend in Golden Grove, She’d hate for you to not be there until the end.

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

Painting nails!!

I've just had this idea in my head for so long - Painting nails with each other.

Even if you aren't trans or don't follow Qiu's whole thing with 'Pronouns correspond with nail polish', Either you can paint their nails or they'll paint your nails- Or you can do your own nails while they do their nails. It's up to you!

For anyone who doesn’t have much experience with painting nails, Qiu might give you some tips or show an example or two, but after that? They’re just going to make you eye ball it. You may not have very good hand-eye coordination, You may have shaky hands or struggle to keep attention- That doesn’t matter to Qiu!

They might tease a bit, but if you’re truly bothered or embarrassed with it all then they’ll stop. Qiu just wants to spend some time with each other, a soft moment for the two of you to bond. They don’t want to lose you because of some insensitive comment.

If you really want as well, Qiu offers to paint your nails as well. (I’m pretty sure In-game Qiu always has black nail polish… but that’s okay.) They’ll let you choose the colour and they’ll begin with what looks like innate expertise.

Genuinely. Qiu looks like a BOSS with how focused they are for this entire moment.

“And the award for best nail-painter goes to…” Qiu starts, a smile on their face as you look up from their nails to see them. They had taken off their green coat, but left everything else on, their white jumper, navy pants, and had left their bag just beside them. “Not you.” Qiu ends with a Cheshire smirk.

You can’t help but groan and sigh softly at that, taking a break to let Qiu’s nails dry for a moment. You aren’t able to tell if you groaned because you were annoyed by Qiu’s comment.. or if you secretly knew that they were right. After barely a moment of looking down at their hands again, You easily could tell that they were right.

“I know.. I’m sorry.” You sigh again, putting the brush back into the nail polish and looking at the remnants of black nail polish on the edges of Qiu’s fingertips.

Always the observant one, Qiu looks at you and immediately notices your disappointment. The habits you made when you were upset or frustrated were crystal clear to them, even if anyone else couldn’t tell. “Hey, Hey. It’s alright. I was kidding.” They immediately backpedal, trying to avoid a total meltdown.

Qiu’s eyes scan the table for something they could do, looking at the bottle of nail polish again before taking the brush and painting one of your nails. Due to the quick reaction and lack of concentration, some of the polish got onto the edges of your skin as well.

By the looks of things, they hadn’t truly thought that through and just looked at you with a softer, genuine grin. “I’m not perfect either.. So let’s just be imperfect together, okay?”

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

Having a picnic!!

After talking it over, the three of you had decided a picnic would be a great idea to spend your time before summer break ended and school started up again.

Tamarack had agreed to make some food, Qiu brought some drinks and a few games for you all to play, You just had to bring the blanket and pick a spot in the park.

Luckily for you all, the weather was great. The sun was shining, a few kids were playing around in the playground, there weren’t a few clouds in the sky but they just provided some nice shade, and it was surprisingly warm for an autumn’s day, not too cold but not scolding hot either. In Tamaracks words, ‘it’s just right.’

The day didn’t seem like it could get better by this point. Tamarack had made some delicious desserts in an adorable picnic basket and Qiu had brought some delicious tea and board games for you all to play. What could possibly go wrong?

You all had been sitting there, resting on the checkered picnic blanket you and your mom had in the closet for years now. She was glad the old thing was finally getting some use.

Tamarack had her braid you had been kind enough to help her do just a few hours ago, and Qiu still had the splotchy nail polish on their fingers you had helped with a few days ago.

The sun was shining, laughter and joy shared amongst the three of you, the food Tamarack had kindly decided to bake was absolutely delicious, Qiu’s tea being a perfect mix of sweet and bitter. It felt like nothin could go wrong in this situation.

.

..

…

Well, apparently the small clouds in the sky has deceived you all and decided at that very moment, the clouds had decided to rain down on the three of you and cause you all to practically sprint to the all-familiar restaurant, The Diner Table.

Yusuf had graciously let you three in, despite the fact you all were practically soaked from the rain. You were given a seat at the usual booth you all used to get throughout your childhoods of coming down here together either after school or after your after-school curriculums. Even after 8 years, The Diner Table still held that ‘comfortable’ feel you had gotten when you came in as a kid.

By now, most of the food had been rained on and the tea had metaphorically and literally been spilt before the three of you had arrived at the diner.

Tamarack and Qiu were sitting in the same row, all of you glancing at each other awkwardly to just silently communicate that that was all a total fail. Though, in reality, Tamarack was the one to speak up first.

“So… Uh, good thing we’re warm now, right?” Tamarack smiled optimistically, trying to find a ‘bright side’ to look at here.

“Sure, yeah. Getting rained on, food ruined and drink gone— Oh, but at least we’re warm!” Qiu said sarcastically, it had meant to be a joke to lighten the mood.. but it seemed to have just been a bit too soon for the three of you to joke about.

Was there really a bright side to look at here? The entire day felt ruined now just because no one managed to check the weather forecast! Nothing could possibly fix this situation—

“Could I get anything started for you three?” Yusuf’s calming and gentle voice cut through the jelly-thick atmosphere, causing you all to jump slightly at the suddenness.

You all shared a glance before coming to a collective realisation. It was never about having a ‘perfect picnic’— It wasn’t about having a picnic in general! You three had just wanted to have a good time with each other, and what better place for familiarity and fun times than The Diner Table?

With a collective smile and a silent nod, you three agreed this was no better place to have a good time. You turned to Yusuf, ready to order a meal and some food. The board games were just a little damp, but they were still playable if you all were gentle enough.

Maybe this wasn’t the picnic you three had in mind.

Maybe you were all a bit silly to not check the weather forecast before going out.

.. Or maybe you were all just destined to inevitably end up in the all-familiar diner one more time.

[darlingsfandom]

If your free (it's ok when your busy and need rest 😁 take care)

When Tommy and changretta reader have their first child a daughter . The little girl reminded Tommy of his late daughter ruby he's soft with her (plus protective) y/n can tell after he told her about what happened . He's got a chance with a daughter again it went well she's a daddy's girl with y/n can't stop smiling how her daughter makes Tommy soft to protective

I was going to make this a blurb but I decided to headcanon it instead!

•Tommy is 100% a girl dad!

•When he found out you were pregnant he actually cried ! He couldn’t believe it at first but after going to the doctor with you he was still in shock!

•it took a few tries to get you pregnant but he wasn’t complaining one bit on that!

•He got Arthur and John to help him set up the nursery which was a light pink!

•The whole family gave you a huge baby shower! Spoiled you with little dresses, shoes and even a cap to match Tommy’s!

•after you had your daughter Tommy instantly fell in love with her! She had your eyes and his nose! And more hair than John ! That was a Tommy joke.

•The first couple of months were hard for the both of you. The sleep schedule was trash. You couldn’t get out of bed, Tommy missed Ruby at times because this was his second daughter but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her any less.

•Her name ? Lillian Polly Shelby ! Of course she’s gotta be named after aunt Polly! Everyone called her Lilly for short.

•Tommy helped her take her first steps! He was a little salty her first word was Mama but she soon learned dada afterwards.

•When she was actually talking in short sentences she did really well. Tommy was in a meeting when she came in running around yelling “fuck!” All the men laughed including Tommy. He’d tell her that’s a grown up word to which she’d argue how he uses it all the time and so does mommy !

•on her fifth birthday Tommy gave her a locket that a picture of you and him in it! She loved that locket and wore it everywhere !!

•One her first day of school she came home upset because she missed the two of you! That night Tommy read her a bedtime story twice!

•As she got older she started noticing boys and Tommy did not like that ! She brought home a boy to study and Tommy made sure to keep his gun out to scare the boy and it worked.

•Lilly came home crying one day from school because a group of girls told her she’s ugly and that boiled his blood! He talked to his daughter about how looks don’t matter and its brains! He talked about how he fell in love with you and not just because you’re pretty but because you’re smart, funny, a good kisser to which she made a face ! Tommy got her to laugh !

•Soon enough his baby girl was graduating and going off to uni! He paid her for to go. She decided to go for business because she wanted to be like Tommy just not as violent!

•she’d visit on breaks and Tommy would always send her back to school with a little letter to remind her of home.

•Lilly met a boy! She brought him home one day and Tommy tested him in every way possible. He did not approve! Tommy knew the boy only liked her because of her name and money!

•He comforted Lilly. When she went back to study she focused hard and graduated top of her class.

•A few years later she did meet a boy that Tommy approved of! He even shook the boys hand the night they met! Pretty soon it was wedding day.

•Tommy held onto Lilly’s arm tightly doing his best to hold back his tears but it was impossible and started crying when he said “Her mother and I do!” And sat down next to you as he watched his little girl get married.

•When Tommy found out he was going to be a grandpa he about died! He was excited !

•When Lilly had the baby, she had a boy and named him Benjamin Thomas ! Tommy cried hearing that his grandson had his name! Tommy had lived a beautiful life .

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (2)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.5k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: PINING, sexual tension, sad backstory, parental issues, more than likely bad swimming terminology, probably some bad work out advice, i'm trying my best lol, tae is too much but i love him, talks of past drug use (not reader or jimin), strong language, mental health things, medication use, allusions to depression, did i say pining?, reader is horny and awkward 99% of the time, can we blame her?, mood swings, i think they are so cute together, i promise more romance is coming soon A/N: Howdy. I know we're having a pretty slow start, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. I enjoy a good slow burn, especially when there's so much awkward sexual tension involved. Thanks for reading!!!

prev || masterlist || next || playlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

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

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

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

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

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

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

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

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

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

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

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

“Damn, these are nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time are we getting your car?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shook my head, “What about you?”

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

“I’ll be alright.”

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

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

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

“Me too.”

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

“You can leave,” I told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chuckled, “That bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got it, coach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” He was incredulous.

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

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

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

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

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

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

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will someone else be with you?”

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

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

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

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

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

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

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

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

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

“Sure, coach.”

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

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

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

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

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

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

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

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

[transchesters]

sam doesn’t know how he let it get this bad.

it’s just that… sam’s a chubby kid. it’s not even that he eats too much or doesn’t exercise -- they can’t afford to eat too much anyways, and dad is always putting him through some rigorous training or another. but he’s short for his age, and his body hasn’t figured out how to distribute fat and muscle.

it’s starting to piss dad off. he pushes him harder and screams at him when he’s too slow, when dean knocks him down too easily, when he gets winded too fast.

this is what ends up making sam hyper-aware of his size. so he starts to change things about his lifestyle.

it started small. he ordered less at diners. he ate small bites of the cold pizza dean brought home. he grabbed an apple before school and called it breakfast and lunch, then had a few spoonfuls of peanut butter for dinner.

it wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry. he was, to an extent. but he liked feeling hungry. it reminded him he was alive, because sometimes he doesn’t feel alive at all.

he’s fourteen when this started. he has no control over anything in his life. dad moves them from town to town without caring about the ramifications on his sons. dean bosses him around and beats him up, coercing him into sparring practice and ordering him to dig into whatever lore dad needed to know. he’s practically just a puppet for their amusement.

but there are little things he could control. like what food he puts in his mouth, and how much of it, and when. it’s not like he has any friends to notice that he doesn’t eat in the cafeteria during lunch. he’s invisible to them, and he’s invisible at home, too. dean and dad would only notice if he disappeared next time they needed information on how to kill a djinn or if vampires were solitary creatures.

it gets worse when dad’s home. dad, who drills him on the lore. dad, who coaches him on his right hook so he can take down a monster three times his size. dad, who looks at him like he’s a soldier. or perhaps a toy.

sam drops weight like crazy. dad tells him he looks great. dean stares at him more than usual like he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong. but he must be doing something right, so he keeps at it.

the first time sam passes out, it’s… a mess. he was on a run, because that’s about the only thing he can do to get away from the motel. but he hadn’t eaten at all that day, so in hindsight a run was a terrible idea.

he stumbles down into a ditch when his vision starts to go. he doesn’t remember falling to his hands and knees, nor does he remember vomiting up what little remains in his stomach. soon it’s just green bile and spit and he’s heaving and heaving until he can’t breathe at all.

he comes to just a few minutes later. he’s staring up at the sky, slowly growing dark. he’ll miss curfew. he’s not sure if he cares.

after that incident, sam tries to be smarter about this whole thing. he can’t go around passing out any time he has to run. he knows that any day now, john’s going to start bringing him out on hunts. he knows dean was his age when he started hunting. it’s only a matter of time.

so, trying to be rational, he starts eating a bit more. an apple for breakfast. a granola bar for lunch. maybe some toast for dinner, since he knows carbs keep you going longer.

no one notices the rings under his eyes. they don’t notice that his wrists are so small, a child could wrap their hand around them. they don’t notice that sometimes he only manages two bites of bread before he’s excusing himself from the table and hiding in his room.

—

sam is nineteen when someone notices. jessica moore, with her wild hair and her loud, wonderful presence, wants to have sex with him. and sam doesn’t know what to do, so suddenly he’s shirtless and jessica is staring at him like he’s a freak.

he’s out the door of her dorm room and fleeing across campus before she can process it.

sam thinks it’s over. he’s sure he’ll never see jessica again, that she’ll block him out and tell their friends to ignore him, too. but then she shows up at his favorite study spot the next day, sitting down across from him at the library. she sets a folder on top of sam’s laptop and smiles tentatively. sam looks down at it.

“how to cope with an eating disorder.”

they learn about it together. jessica tells sam about safe foods and asks what his might be. they eat in private, refusing offers to go out to eat with friends. she makes him salads and makes sure to buy organic, because sam says that even though it’s stupid and more expensive, it makes it seem cleaner. she makes him smoothies with tofu for protein and sam learns that he really loves fruit. at least, as much as he can love food.

sam has bad days. he has really, really bad days. one night, he discovers the momentary joys of binge eating. he eats an entire salad, a microwave bowl of mac and cheese, and a sleeve of oreos.

he spends the night hovering over the toilet, violently trying to expel every last bit of the filth he put inside himself. the next day, he stays in the bathroom. he doesn’t deserve to go out, to let jessica care for him. he tells her to go away when she knocks on the door, and the sound of him throwing up gets her to move.

but he has good days, too. one day, he drinks an entire smoothie, eats an entire salad, eats a few handfuls of trail mix, and in the end he doesn’t want to kill himself. he calls himself stupid for thinking this to be some sort of grand achievement, but jessica scolds him and tells him she’s proud of him.

and then jessica dies.

jessica is ripped away from sam by the foul monster who ruined his life in the first place. she burns on the ceiling of their apartment and sam hates dean for not letting him burn with her.

dean doesn’t notice that sam doesn’t eat for days after her death. he thinks it’s just a coping mechanism. or maybe grief. but at least sam is hunting again. at least sam is with him again. that’s all that matters.

—

sam is twenty-two when he’s possessed by meg. she takes one look inside his screwed up head and laughs.

“oh, sammy. it’s a mess up here.”

she lets sam be present, which is the cruelest thing she can do, and she eats. she eats so much goddamn food.

she goes to local bars wearing sam’s skin, downs several beers and orders two burgers. she takes one back to the motel room she’s camping in, and she eats it in front of the mirror so sam can watch. you could say she picked up a lot of tricks in hell. and yeah, she kills people with his hands. she makes him watch that, too.

call him fucked up, but the eating is worse. the eating is so much worse.

when sam spends two days after the whole meg ordeal locked up in the bathroom, the awful sounds of vomiting hardly being covered by bad tv, dean thinks it’s just because being possessed must have sucked.

—

sam is still twenty-two the first time he dies. he’s twenty-two when he learns that his brother sold his soul to keep him alive.

dean finally begins to notice, because sam doesn’t eat much of anything during his last year.

and when dean is gutted by the hellhounds, sam doesn’t eat at all. it’s not until ruby finds him, drunk and nearly emaciated, about to be killed by some demons, that he forces himself to try. he can’t very well bring dean back and kill lilith when the thought of eating a goddamn apple sends him spiraling.

so he gets stronger. ruby offers him her blood and he drinks it and he eats solid food for the first time in weeks. and when dean is back, and sam is hopped up on demon blood, things seem like they could be okay.

and then sam raises the devil. and dean doesn’t trust him anymore. he hits him and sam lets him. sam loses ruby, and he loses any semblance of an appetite he may have had. he only eats when dean forces him to, being stared down by his older brother in musty diners in the middle of nowhere. he shovels lettuce and tomatoes in his mouth to satisfy dean, and he keeps hunting.

—

sam is twenty-five when he throws himself into the cage. sam is a thousand years old when he’s pulled out, scarred and mangled, but still standing. something is different. his entire being aches less. he breathes easier, he hunts better, and he never feels hungry. he doesn’t sleep or eat and he doesn’t lose weight. he’s perfectly fine. he meets his grandfather and some distant relatives. he learns about his mother, even though he doesn’t care so much about that anymore. he’s reunited with dean, who is immediately put off by sam’s whole vibe. because he’s different. he’s wrong.

even though sam feels the best he’s felt in years.

and then death shoves his rotted soul back into his chest, and sam has never wanted to die more.

nothing is real. reality is slipping and sam can’t keep a single bite of food down without retching up bile and acid from the depths of his stomach.

—

sam is twenty-nine and one thousand years old when he starts the trials to close the gates of hell. he had been doing so good these last four years. he doesn’t talk to dean about it, but dean seems to understand that his brother prefers light meals with fresh vegetables, so he makes himself burgers and salads for sam.

but now, sam is doing something meaningful for once. he’s going to close the gates of hell, and he’s going to be cleansed in the process.

he has an excuse not to eat. he feels like he’s dying — according to cas, he is. so he downs a few spoonfuls of dean’s soup and tells him he isn’t hungry. which is true. it’s just not because of the trials.

the trials are good. they’re a gift from god. they rip out his insides and force him to puke them out.

and he’s ready to die to finish them. he’s excited to die, at the end of this. he will finally be free of his broken body and his broken soul and his empty stomach. he doesn’t care if he ends up in heaven or hell. at least he can just be done.

but dean isn’t ready for him to die. dean fights for him, tells him to stay, says all the right words to have sam let the trials go.

and then he still almost dies.

and when he comes to, he feels different. it’s hard to put his finger on, but he’s losing time. they pass fifty mile markers in the span of two minutes, and sam feels like he might be going crazy.

but at least he isn’t hungry, and he isn’t dying from starvation. he doesn’t have to eat, for some reason. he doesn’t think about why and instead accepts it as the blessing it is.

but then he learns why. dean tricked him into saying yes to some freak angel, and now kevin’s blood was on his hands.

and his body is all sorts of fucked up.

and his autonomy was taken from him once again.

so he retaliates the one way he knows how.

sam doesn’t each much at all these days.

[junedenim]

have lunch with the english

part 1 part 2

one day at home

warnings: fluff, smut, angst (the triple cocktail)

word count: 10.1k

The plane ride is rough. For the first hour, he zones out and watches the airplane-provided entertainment because that's what Lottie would do. It's episodes of Friends and it grows tiresome around the tenth laugh track. He switches to music in the second hour and in the third hour, after the cold but edible meal, he tries to fall asleep. He thinks he makes it an hour before a baby starts crying. Then, he thinks of Franny but then again everything reminds him of Franny.

He's in and out of sleep after that. The baby cries for the rest of the flight and Friends has switched to Planet Earth so he settles for listening to David Attenborough for the rest of the flight instead. 

The flight lands at 10 AM London time, but he feels like it's 2 AM. It takes him too long to get through customs as someone with a British passport but the guy is certain that his picture doesn't match his face. That's what he gets for updating his passport when he still had the goatee. 

He's still rubbing his eyes going down the escalator. At the bottom, Franny on her hip, stands Lottie. Bell-bottom jeans and that short-sleeve white blouse Franny loves so much because she gets to play with the buttons on it. A distracted Lottie coos Franny, bouncing her on her hip, which means he narrowly missed a crying Franny. Franny, dressed eerily similar to her mother (seriously, this kid ignored all his genes besides his brown hair), giggles ferociously. Lottie laughs back and it's cheesy to say but it mends something in him. Shoots him awake after any restless sleep.

"You look like you were woken by a toddler at 4. Wait, that was me." Lottie is the same as she's always been. She keeps her hair long because Franny likes to tug on it. Her eyes show no signs of tiredness like his do. Her smile, always bright.

Franny makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. Alex takes her, planting a kiss on her chubby cheeks. "I practically was. Baby crying the whole flight. Hi." He grabs the back of Lottie's head and pecks her lips.

Her hand lands on his chest, stroking his collarbone. She puckers her lips in reciprocation. "That poor mother." Lottie holds the belief that Franny likes Alex more than her because Franny never cries when Alex holds her. He finds that untrue but Lottie has always been stubborn in her beliefs.

"Why'd she wake up?" Alex asks. Franny tugs on his hair and falls onto his cheek, her lips slobbering over his cheek. He knows Lottie will likely use this in a later argument she has about who Franny loves more.

"Hungry. Always hungry. And whining 'Papa! Papa!' because I made her eat Cheerios."

Alex huffs. "She doesn't love me more than you, Lot, and since when does she call me Papa?"

Lottie sighs and practically stomps her foot. Sometimes it's like Franny isn't the only toddler. "It's bad enough she loves you more than me, she has to call you dad too. I can't have anything be French. So dull." Yeah, that argument comes up a lot too.

"She calls you maman."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "She calls me 'Ma.'"

Alex laughs. "She can barely get two syllables out. You want her saying se branler."

Lottie bolds her eyes and juts her head out. "Alex! Don't talk about jerking off and our daughter in the same sentence."

Her voice is loud and causes him to look around Heathrow for any shocked onlookers. "When did you become so stuck? I thought the French were supposed to be adventurous."

"She isn't even 2 and you want her to start talking about masturbation. I always knew you were a pig."

He chuckles and kisses her again. He's missed her. He thinks he'll spend his whole life missing her, even though he has her now. Franny just makes that ache even worse. "Where's her stroller?"

"I left it in the car. I didn't want to set up the whole thing if she was going to insist I carry her anyway. I can drag your carry-on."

"No, I got it."

She's got her hands on the handle before he can grab it. "I can manage the carry-on, Alex. You hold your daughter."

Alex wraps his arm around her and there's a crack down his spine where everything aligns again. "What'd my girls get up to while I was gone?" They talked every night—well, night for her, afternoon for him—but hearing it from her in person is always nice.

"Same old. I've got a last-minute opening I have to go to tonight."

"Really? Can I come?"

She looks over puzzled at him. "You want to come to some dumb uni student's gallery opening?"

"Yeah, we'll make a night of it."

"The last time we made 'a night of it' Francoise happened."

"I think Franny's pretty nice."

"Because Francoise likes you."

"Maybe if you called her Franny she'd like you more."

"It sounds like Fanny. I don't want my daughter to be called fanny."

"Shall I start calling you Charlotte then?"

"Ew, even my name is stolen by the English. Why can't she go by her beautiful French name? Is that so hard?"

He finds it's best to change the subject when Lottie gets caught in these knots. "Do you want to go to Bouchon Racine tonight?"

She's giddy and jumping—skipping toward their parked car. "Ooh, can we? Can we?" He laughs at her, so full of childish giddiness, a quality that has only expanded with Franny. "I want to bring home a bucket of their olives."

"You know they are probably the same ones they have at Tesco." They definitely are. When she was pregnant she insisted on olives, olives, olives, and he quickly realized she could never tell the difference between whether the olives were from a can or special-ordered from Bouchon Racine.

"Maybe we should name her Olive," he suggested one night. 

Lottie, who was balancing a bowl nearly overflowing with olives on her stomach, sat up quickly, which was a shocking sight; she must have been 8 months pregnant by that point. "She will not be named Olive. You English naming your children after food. We might as well name her Steak or Potato."

"No, they're not!" She insists. "They coat them in something different. You can't tell. You don't have a refined palette like me."

"Alright, I believe ya."

"Olive," Franny sounds, clapping her hands together.

Lottie points her hand at Franny. "See! Even she knows they're different."

"Do you want me to drive?" He asks.

She thinks for a moment. "Uh, no. I'll do it. I told Francoise we'd go to the park today." She reaches into her pocket and grabs the keys, twirling them around her finger.

"Okay, we can go after we park." They've reached the car and he opens the backseat door for Franny while Lottie places his suitcase in the caboose.

"You sure? I can just take her." 

"Nonsense. I've missed my girls."

"Nonsense," Lottie imitates like he's a ghastly old British man (something she would say he is). She slips into the driver's seat as he secures Franny in her car seat.

She's started the car before he's even in the passenger seat. "Should I call Laurie for tonight?"

"She can't. She has a date tonight," Lottie says as she backs out of the parking spot.

Alex chuckles. "You know when our babysitter has a date?"

"Yes, Alex, unlike you I talk to Laurie."

"I talk to her!" Alex insists.

Lottie snorts and shakes her head. "You pay her at the end of the night like 'uh, here's, uh, your money, miss, uh.'"

"I don't do that. Most women would be happy I don't talk to the babysitter."

"I should be happy you're not making out with the babysitter? What high standards? Especially considering how we started." Yeah, he should have seen that one coming.

"What? Like you regret it?"

"No, and I'm sure when you run off with the babysitter she won't regret it either. Meanwhile, I'll be sitting all alone, except I won't even have branded you, I'll just have a baby."

"If you want me to get it removed, I'll get it removed." Nowadays, the tattoo that sits on his arm is generally covered by his shirt. Sometimes Lottie stares at it in the dead of night.

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Why do I have to want it to be removed? Shouldn't you want it to be removed?"

"When I made the appointment, you told me not to do it."

"I would have told you not to get the tattoo in the first place."

"Well, where were you?"

She giggles and reaches out to fluff her hand through his hair. He gives her a boyish grin, the one that makes him seem a decade younger, traveling through Brussels. Franny erupts in giggles from the backseat and Alex spends the rest of the car ride babbling away with her.

They arrive home around a half hour later, luckily not hitting much traffic. Lottie gets whiny in traffic. The house seems the same as when he left it two weeks ago. Franny's toys scattered on the carpet in front of the TV, Lottie's laptop left open on the kitchen counter, his coffee mug that he left atop his piano still sits empty and unwashed. He's comforted that the painting on Lottie's mini easel is a different unfinished painting meaning she was able to do something other than working and caring for Franny while he was gone.

"Francoise, pourquoi ne montres-tu pas à papa ce que tu as fait?" Franny at nearly 2 years old is better at French than him, go figure.

She walks quickly, scuffing her feet on the wooden floor as she rushes off to her bedroom. "You didn't tell me you finished your painting?" Alex teasingly asks her. Lottie's still so overprotective about it, not wanting him to stare at her while she does it.

Alex sits with a tiresome sigh on the couch. Lottie kneels on the floor, trying to clear some of Franny's plastic kitchen items off the carpet. "That's part of your surprise tonight." She's moving toward him on her knees, closer and closer, until she leans over, placing her hands on his thighs. 

He raises his eyebrows. "My surprise?"

She smirks. "Yeah, you have a surprise tonight. I didn't tell you that?" She leans back on her feet as Franny comes toddling back in with a piece of paper. 

"Papa! Ah, papa!" He swears Lottie's smile turns into a wry Grinch smile.

"It's what you get for being gone," Lottie tells him. She might as well start taunting him with "Nana, nana, boo, boo."

"Look," Franny tells him, lifting up the piece of paper. It's abstract, to say the least. There are squiggles from crayons and a stick figure that has pipe cleaners glued onto its head for hair, which means Lottie did that part. There are paint imprints from flowers, which must be from the small garden Lottie has grown in the backyard. Franny enthusiastically points at these marks so he guesses Lottie let her do that part. 

"You drew this? Are you kidding me? Magritte could never, we're putting this on the fridge."

Franny does that excited squealing thing, claps her hands together, and then she clings to his leg. She looks over at Lottie and says, "Park."

Lottie giggles with delight because Franny really is the cutest thing. Big-eyed baby blues just like her maman and these long lashes that people would kill for. Lottie leans down and wiggles her nose against Franny making her giggle. "Papa might want to take a shower first and relax a little—"

"No, no, we can go now." Franny is jumping up and down.

"You sure?"

Alex stands up, readjusting his trousers. "Yeah, if I relax now I'm just going to fall asleep."

Lottie wrinkles her nose. "You sure you don't want to take a shower."

He reaches his hand down to help her stand up. "I will fall asleep in the shower if I do that."

"Alright, park time," Lottie announces, which causes Franny to repeatedly say "Park! Park! Park!" all through the house. 

"Should I get the stroller out?"

Lottie sighs. "She's not going to sit in it anyway."

"You want to carry her the whole time?"

"No, you're going to carry her the whole time."

Alex huffs a peal of laughter. "Franny." She stops her chanting and snaps her head in Alex's direction. "If we get the stroller out, are you going to sit in it?" She eagerly nods.

Lottie throws her hands at her side. "I had to carry her around all week and the second you come back she's all about the stroller again. I'm going to have hip problems because of this kid."

"Shall we get you a stroller too?"

"You're the one that can't sit on the floor because of your back."

London is quiet, at least, their little section of it. It's still early enough in the morning that the heat of summer hasn't caught them yet but late in the day to avoid work travelers. Alex pushes Franny's stroller while Lottie eats an apple. "I can't remember the last time I had a proper meal. Like a very proper meal." She amusingly tells him, "I think we've had mac & cheese for the past 4 nights." Life depending on it, Lottie can't cook. "I am going to go crazy at Bouchon Racine tonight. You're not going to like me when the bill comes." 

"It's my treat. I have to keep you healthy."

"I'd be a pile of bones without you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Is it 'Will you marry me?'" That's their biggest problem.

"Lot, come on."

"What? You have to get around to it someday."

"Can we not fight in Princess Diana's playground right now?"

"You're avoiding."

"I'm not avoiding—"

"Yes, you are. You're an avoider, Alex, and it's fine. Continue." She's getting passive-aggressive. 

He doesn't want to ask now. It feels awkward and clunky. "I had this thought the other day. I was telling someone the story of how we met—"

"Were they dazzled?" She's obsessed with how people react to the story. It's the romantic in her. The story is a prize she won and she gets to taunt all the other school children that she has the best story out of all of them.

Alex can't lie either. The story is pretty fucking incredible but her excitement over it—the way she grabs his upper arm tightly and those dimples imprint on her cheeks—that's everything and more. "Yes, and they asked me if I hadn't picked up your book what would you have done?"

"You mean from the train?" He nods. "Probably nothing."

"Really?"

"You're shocked by that?"

"No, but I thought you'd indulge me a bit."

She shrugs. "I would have thought you weren't interested."

"I could never not be interested in you. What about me? You thought I wasn't attractive."

She giggles. "You were very adorable at 21."

"Only adorable?"

She looks over at him and downturns her head. "I did have sex with you. You've only grown hotter with age, Al. Not something all of us can say."

"What? Are you talking about you?"

"I've had a baby. You don't have to suffocate me with delusions of grandeur that I'm hotter than I've ever been. I was the hottest at..." she thinks for a moment "25. You would've liked me at 25."

"I like you now and you're hotter than you've ever been now."

"Please. I'm the only mother on the planet whose boobs got smaller when she had a baby. The only haircut I've had this year is when Francoise cut a chunk off with her play scissors. I was never really fit but now—"

"Hey, every you has fit for me. No version of you will fit better for the version of me I am right now. If I had 25-year-old you, sure you'd be hot, but I'd look like a total creep so this is really all for my benefit."

"Well, if it benefits you then we're fine."

"Exactly."

"Good." They laugh. "I'm plenty happy with my body. You don't have to worry about me. However, looking like you do now, I'd totally get with you at 25."

It's days like this when life feels perfect. The sun shone just right and Lottie looked over at him with that beaming smile. It's good for his ego too. "Yeah, I'd probably get with you too. You'd be more mature than me anyway."

Franny is itching to get out of her seat so they take her over to the slide. They've developed a method where Lottie will stand at the end of the slide to catch Franny and Alex will then pick her up and place her on top of the slide for her to go down once again. They do it because Lottie read that if you go down the slide with your child then you're more likely to injure yourself or them because your foot could get caught and break and your child will be flung across the playground. Alex thinks it's because she told him that when she was little she rode down the slide in a skirt once and exposed her knickers to the whole class, but he doesn't say that. It makes Franny more independent anyway, except for the part where she refuses to climb the stairs to take the slide, therefore insisting Alex pick her up or she'll throw a tantrum. She can barely walk upstairs so he gives in. 

"My maman wants us to visit soon. Start of July maybe."

He hums. "Paris in July. Will it be abandonment or a whole month of banging?"

"Shush. I don't understand why she won't just come here."

"You've been saying you want to go back for ages now."

"Yeah, not with a 2-year-old though. I'm going to be that poor mother trying to calm her baby on the plane."

"Franny is more well-behaved than that baby. We'll be fine. We could take the train."

"The train?"

"Come on. We've had fun on the train. We could go up to Brussels for a weekend. Stay in 505."

She's biting her lips, which means she's tempted. "You just want my maman to look after Franny so you can knock me up again."

"Precisely. We could get a private cabin. It's a quick train ride anyway. I'll make a fool out of myself on the metro for the thousandth time. You'll love it."

"Fine, fine. But you have to call her Francoise the whole time."

"That's fine. Franny can be Francoise in France and Franny in England and the rest of the world."

"No, in French-speaking countries she will be Francoise."

"Which means in English ones she'll be Franny. Franny Wanny Anny." He plays with her limbs making her giggle.

"Fine," Lottie concedes with a straight face.

"I'm going to have to go back out to LA again before that."

She scoffs, "Really?"

"If we're going to spend all of July there. I left some things there."

"You can't have Matt send them to you?"

"We just have to finish some things up."

"Oh, 'some things.'"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just curious," she says evasively. "I'll have to figure out what to do with work."

"You already work remotely anyway."

"I work remotely in London, Alex. You expect me to come up every weekend to attend a gallery in London."

"Tell them you'll do a Paris special."

"It's a London-based company. The point of what I write is for people to go see these exhibits."

"Tell people to take the train."

"Yeah, I don't think that'll work."

"It's not like you need the job anyway."

"I am practically already a stay-at-home mum, Alex. If I don't have a job, I will turn into Mommie Dearest. You need for me to have a job."

"Bill will understand. Your job will be waiting for you when we're back."

"Maybe if I didn't take the biggest maternity leave ever."

"Stop shaming yourself over the leave." Shockingly, pregnancy and birth weren't exactly easy, and nearly 2 years post, Lottie still guilts herself for the extended leave. As if she didn't have to recover from growing a full human being, having her cut out, and then caring for it. Alex thinks he helped the best he could at least when dealing with Lottie's stubbornness and insistence on 50-50, which luckily became 60-40 for her sake.

"It'll all work itself out. And Francoise will go to Brussels for her first time!" Lottie squats down and wraps her arms around Franny's stomach, squeezing her tightly.

"Fine. Franny can come too."

Lottie gasps. She says to Franny, "Papa was so mean. He wasn't going to let you go to Brussels. What a mean, mean man. But maman will take you anywhere she goes."

"What is this? Parental brainwash?"

"I'm simply informing Francoise of the plans. It's a great way to keep her involved and expand her vocabulary."

"Is she going to start burning bras next?"

"Francoise will be a smart activist. She's the smartest baby I know."

"You barely know any other babies."

"That's not true. Did you hear that, Francoise? Your papa just called you stupid. Maman would never say that about such a smart intelligent angel." She rubs Franny's nose, making her wrinkle it up.

"You're really good at this whole twisting my words thing."

"You're just catching on?"

They move over to the bench where Franny sits on Alex's lap, messily eating strawberries. Lottie tries to blot away at the juice that drips from her cheeks. "Gabriel and Brigitte are getting divorced," Lottie informs him.

Alex's jaw drops. "What?"

Lottie purses her lips and nods her head. "Yeah. I haven't gotten the full details from maman because he, of course, has not called me, but, you know, they've been on and off for the last couple of years so now it's—" She moves her hand across her neck to symbolize finished.

"I never thought they would call it quits though," Alex says.

Lottie chuckles. "I did. I'm surprised they lasted this long. They hated each other even when they got married."

"Another reason not to get married."

She drops her hands to her lap along with her face. "Alex."

He feels bad about that one. He kind of feels bad about all of it. Like there's some part of him he can't change. "Sorry. What about the kids?"

Lottie exhales loudly and shakes her head. "No clue. I can't even get him on the phone. I even tried calling her."

"Yeah, how'd that go?" He laughs.

"I'm pretty sure the second she filed for divorce she blocked me. No longer has to put up with me at family functions."

"I missed you," he says because he has to. She's sitting there, wiping her red-stained strawberry hands with an old McDonald's napkin after cleaning up their daughter's sticky face and sometimes he just gets hit with these waves. It usually happens in parks. Brussels Park, Luxembourg Gardens, Kensington Gardens. Ever since that flower behind his ear and that first kiss that sealed it.

She's sardonic as always. "Pft, it was only 2 weeks, Alex." She walks to toss the napkin out, which gives him a good view of her ass so he can't really complain.

When she walks back, she grabs his head, bends down, and kisses his cheek. "Love you."

She stands up and he grabs her hand, squeezing it. "Thanks, Lot."

She forces a smile down and slaps his arm playfully before putting the remnants of the food baggie back under the stroller. He just watches her. He's always loved doing that. 

"We should figure out the babysitter issue."

"Leah's gonna do it." Leah is one of Lottie's friends from university. She's lived in London ever since graduation and the whole reason Lottie made that train ride to Brussels was because she was visiting Leah in London. Leah doesn't know this, of course. Lottie says she'd get too big of an ego.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"What time?"

"She's coming over at 4 once she picks Jace up from camp."

"When's the gallery start?"

"6, I think."

"So we get 2 hours to ourselves?"

"No, you get 2 hours to take a nap. I have 2 hours to get ready, get my notes together, maybe clean up the house for once."

"Oh, Lottie, we're never cleaning up the house."

"A girl can dream."

"Honey, your studio flat was a mess and you didn't have a baby to blame it on. Our house is never getting cleaned."

"I like a cluttered mess. I don't like mice in my house!"

"There's no mice in the house."

"I hear them in the walls, I swear to you, Alex!"

"It's an old house."

"So the house is falling apart. That makes me feel a lot better, Alex."

"Remember when we used to be fun? Now we're arguing about mice."

"Yes, but it's mice in our house and I like the sound of our house." It's been their house for nearly 3 years but Lottie woos about it like it's freshly done. He gets a warm feeling inside whenever she does.

Lottie tries to put Franny back in her stroller. She, of course, cries. "This child hates me. I'm not going to carry you." 

Franny just cries more, making grabby hands to be picked up. Alex can't help it. She's got tears streaming down her face, those blue eyes swelling. He blames Lottie for putting the curse upon him back in '07. He picks her up. Her cries soften to whimpers.

"Alex," Lottie warns.

"I haven't seen her in 2 weeks. I'm not going to stand her and watch her cry. Besides, she doesn't seem to like me anyway."

Franny reaches her hands out for her mother and it would be rude to refuse such a cute baby. Lottie places her on her hip. "I didn't want to push the stroller anyway."

They head off in no direction in particular. On empty days when they need to kill time, they walk around London with little care. They've never lacked in walking and talking. It seems like they've walked this area of London a million times. When Lottie was pregnant they walked around the area so much that it became a bore and they would take the underground to different parts of London to have another area to explore. Weekends they'd walk along the Thames for hours. The conversation never lulled, even if it had become as dull as I Spy, they'd turn it into a game of laughter. 

"I'm sorry I haven't been around," Alex apologizes. From the moment Lottie got pregnant—probably way before then—he was overcome with the fear of this occurring. Dashing around the planet and leaving Lottie & a baby for endless amounts of time.

Lottie sighs. "You were gone for two weeks. That's nothing."

"That's something. Enough for her to start calling me Papa. I'm missing things. I'm leaving you to eat apples and mac & cheese for days on end—"

Her laughter cuts him off. "Alex, I lived for about 32 years without you, I can manage two weeks."

"Two weeks for Franny's life is like 10% of it."

She can't stop laughing. "No, it's about less than 1%. You avoiding maths in college might not have been the best idea."

"Alright, alright. I just I'm missing it and I'm shoving it off onto you and—"

"Alex, you might want to sit down for this, but she's my daughter too. You spent nearly 2 full years at home while I went back to work."

"You left for 4 hours for a gallery opening. I'll be gone for...too long."

"Baby, my father wasn't even around. You're like ten billion points above him. Gabriel is there every day at his house with his kids and I don't think he once sat down on the floor and played dolls with them. Do you think I'm picking some loser to have a kid with?"

"Maybe for the royalty checks." He cracks a bit, a hint of a smile approaching. 

"Have more faith in me." She reaches up and tucks a tuft of his hair behind his ear. "It's okay to have a life outside of us."

And like always, she makes everything make sense. He takes her hand, the one pinching his earlobe and kisses the back of it with a tenderness they've always had. The one that makes him ache even when she's here to heal it. 

"I'll still feel bad about it," he says.

"Well, you better," she says bluntly. He's laughing and she's laughing and Franny just looks confused but she laughs too. "It's called parental guilt. It's what prevents us from eating the suckers."

Alex rubs his stomach. "But Franny looks so tasty." He leans over, chomping the air toward her. 

She's squealing, clutching onto Lottie with all her might, insisting, "No, no, Daddy, not me!"

Alex sighs and pulls away. "Fine, but all because you gave me one of your strawberries."

They're walking through Kynance Mews where Lottie does her usual musing. "I wish we lived here." She's slow, admiring each inch of wisteria and how it crawls over the buildings. She does this every time. It started when she was pregnant and she insisted Franny kicked harder when they were here. It has only persisted to a greater degree. Her enthrallment with nature is deep. It's why they have a garden in the backyard. She explains each inch to Franny in such a soft voice Alex has trouble hearing, but Franny's quiet. Her eyes follow where her mother points and her lips part in her usual way but she looks blown away.

"You're only about 10 minutes away from it," Alex points out.

Lottie rolls her eyes. "I know I can look at it. I want to live in it. With the cobble-stoned streets and nature overtaking architecture. It's so peaceful." As they walk, she gazes around the mew like it's the first time she's seen it.

Alex looks on at her, a smile perks his cheeks. "It reminds you of home."

She meets his eyes. "Maybe. With the arches and the way my feet click on the street." Franny is squirming in her arms so Lottie sets her down and she goes running off to a tiny plant that's about her height. "But I like it here."

"London or here specifically?" He questions.

"Well, I meant in London but, yeah, here." She puts her hands in her pockets finally able to rest them.

"Me too. Life makes sense, you know?"

She laughs. "No." Her eyes are away from him, watching Franny. "But I don't think it's supposed to. I think this is the closest we'll get. I felt that when Franny was born, you know?"

He nods. "I forgot what it felt like to be excited over nothing." Franny is hugging the plant.

Lottie turns to him and shakes her head. "It's not nothing. For her, it's the first time she's hugged a plant."

"I don't think I ever hugged a plant. I hated nature as a kid."

She's smiling wide, beaming. "Francoise, honey, papa is going to hug the plant now."

"Lottie." Alex chuckles and shakes his head. 

But Lottie has already got her hands on his shoulders pushing him toward the tiny plant. Franny is giddy and Lottie is giddy and he's a fool. "Come on, come on, come on!" Franny shouts, her tiny hands tugging on his fingers.

"Alright, alright. The person who lives here is going to think I'm a psycho."

"Plants need love too," Lottie defends.

"Yeah," Franny repeats, "plants need love too."

So, he bends down with a crack in his knees and hugs the plant loosely. Franny claps and Lottie is snapping a picture on her camera. "Adorable!" She cheers.

"Now let's get out of here before they call the police on me."

Franny tugs on his hand. "Shoulders, pweaseeeeeee!" Those eyes should be outlawed. Puppy dog ocean eyes gazing up on that cupcake face, begging him.

Alex looks over at Lottie and she understands. With a huff, she says, "I'll push the stroller."

Franny is already clapping her hands excitedly. Alex picks her up, lifting her over his head, and sitting her onto shoulders. She clutches the ends of his hair like she's stirring him. "Thank you!" She shouts.

"She's going to be such a spoiled brat," Lottie tells Alex.

"Hey, she said thank you," Alex reasons. Lottie is probably right. They give in—he gives in a lot to Franny's will but she's too hard to say no to and she's well-behaved for the most part so he'll give in and carry her on his shoulders and if she'll cry one day when he doesn't.

"Love you, maman," Franny calls down.

Lottie gasps and stops walking. A giant smile spreads across her face as she looks up at Franny. She shakes the little girl's foot. "Well, aren't you the sweetest girl in the world!"

"She's a very smart girl," Alex says as they walk again.

"She has your charm," Lottie says begrudgingly. She's too quick to fall to the smooth words he speaks. He's grateful for it. It might be the only upper hand he has with Lottie. It's probably the only reason he has Lottie. Tucked away in his songs leading them to meet again in Paris. 

They start heading home. Franny is tapping on his head and Lottie walks a step ahead of him with the stroller. "What should we do now?" He asks her.

She turns around, biting her lip.

He instantly knows what she's thinking. "You're such an art nerd."

"I am not!" She defends. Alex gives her a knowing look. "Maybe. But I want to go because Francoise gets so excited over the sculptures and it's the cutest thing ever and she's the cutest thing ever and you're the second cutest thing ever and you and me in art museums is always fun and it's free so let's do it."

"You make a convincing argument."

He stays silent as she slowly smiles and bats her lashes. "I'll give you a kiss."

"Fine, but I get a foot rub at the end of the night."

She moves closer to him. "Oh, just a foot rub. No other kind of rub. That's fine."

He laughs. "Shut up. Come here." He wraps his arm around her lower back and kisses her lips, strong and hard. The kind that would usually have them running home to fuck. But that was before Franny.

When they walk into the Victoria & Albert Museum, Lottie takes Franny to her hip, and Alex checks the stroller. As usually happens at museums, Lottie becomes a tour guide. "I love these altarpieces."

"It's the repressed Catholic in you," Alex says. 

Lottie chuckles. She leans closer as if they haven't stood before the St. Margaret altarpiece a hundred times before. "All that little detail."

"And it's from the 1500s!"

Lottie turns back at him with a face etched with annoyance. "You're mocking me."

"Never." She stares intensely at him making him feel apologetic. He mutters, "Sorry." He sounds like Franny after she spills her cereal. 

Lottie smiles, pleased by the apology. She bounces Franny on her hip, trying to keep her calm and interested. "They tried to kill her and couldn't," she tells her.

"I thought they beheaded her in the end," Alex states.

Lottie turns back, annoyed again. "I was getting there."

They slowly walk through the museum, into various rooms. They venture up to the stained glass section, one not often looked through. It's usually toward the end of their visits and feet are worn out or Franny is cranky. 

Alex, ahead of his girls, walks back to them and tugs on Lottie's arm. "I've got something to show you."

"What? Are you on display here?"

"While I might be the great find in your collection," Alex says, getting a laugh out of Lottie, "it's just a little thing."

"Okay." They walk past stained glass windows and sacred silver. 

They land in front of one. "I know it might be stupid but...you know."

She looks at the piece. A stained glass panel with an angel with a sword in one hand, a scale in his other weighing the soul of a woman. "It's very pretty."

"And you claim I don't notice anything. It's Saint Michael."

She looks back at him and it clicks. He's beaming with pride in himself like he discovered the Mona Lisa or something. "Do you want to steal it?"

"We could probably just take it," he jokes. "Nobody cares about him as much as we do."

Lottie giggles. "I think some Christians might argue with you." The saint had become a thing between them. On their one-year anniversary right before she got pregnant, he gave her a Saint Michael pendant necklace and she said, "Is this blasphemy?" She doesn't wear it often. It's tucked away in her jewelry box. She usually elects to wear one necklace at a time. Nine times out of ten, it's that shitty one purchased from the babushka. She fiddles with it, Franny fiddles with it, and Alex fiddles with it. It's like some unity stone connecting everything.

Later, when they've returned home, Alex takes a nap. Franny easily occupies herself with toys before Leah picks her up. The second the front door closes behind them it's like a siren sounded, alerting Alex who walks into the living room just like Franny does after a nap. He's rubbing eyes and yawns. He might as well be carrying a stuffed animal.

"I have to get ready!" Lottie instantly says, walking straight past him. 

"Oh, come on, we don't have to be there for another 2 hours."

"I have to shower. You have to shower. I have to get ready. You have to get ready. I have to get some notes together. No time."

He walks to her at a tortoise's pace and hunting stare. "So, let's do it together."

"What?"

Alex bends down at a hare's pace and throws Lottie over his shoulder, a screech coming from her lips. "I have to shower. You have to shower." Lottie's giggling, patting her hands on his ass, and kicking her feet.

"Fine but you have to wash my hair," she reasons. He knows she loves that without needing her to say it. He loves it when she does it, even if she always gets shampoo in his eye.

He plops her down on the tiled floor and starts the shower. She's already shed her clothes when he turns back around. He whistles. Lottie rolls her eyes. "Stop it, pig."

"I'm an admirer of art." He wraps his hands around her body, tugging her close. Her boobs up against his shirt. "Seriously, they should be writing pieces about this body."

"Isn't that what you do?" She's flirty, which is a good sign.

He's kissing her, close, tight, together. A true proper kiss. Lottie pulls away with a huff and enters the shower, which means Alex practically rips his clothes off to get in the shower.

"The last time we had a Francoise-free night was back in February when your parents came down." She hands him her shampoo and turns her back to him.

"No," Alex disagrees. "It can't be that long ago." His hands are soothing and meticulous in their kneading.

"Yes, they came down on the week of Valentine's Day, and when we've had Laurie watch her it's only been for nights out. We haven't had the house by ourselves overnight since February."

"Jesus. Then why am I shampooing your hair?"

"Because you're a good man."

"A good man? I thought I was a pig?"

She hums. "Your patience has changed my mind. Besides, I can call you a pig in a few minutes when you try to finger me."

Alex fakes a gasp. "What cruel man would try to please a woman? I would have you blow me."

She's giggling and sending vibrations through him, her back to his stomach. His cock is against her ass, growing harder and harder with each movement.

It starts with him kissing her neck and then she's turning around and getting on her knees. She takes him in her mouth. Her tongue is playing on his tip, swirling around getting him all flustered. She knows exactly what to do. They've done this a hundred times now and yet it still feels like he is experiencing it for the first time.

She takes him fully in her mouth. One hand playing with his balls, the other holding his thigh. It's wet and messy. The water from the showerhead beats down hard on his head and Lottie is giving good head. Every time she pops off, she comes back taking him an inch further and further. He nearly comes down her throat when he hits the back of it. 

He's a moaning mess. It's something about the environment. Probably knowing he can be as loud as he wants with no curious ears. Definitely because Lottie is licking up his shaft with such care. "Fuck, Lot," he says. He throws his head back and he's not sure if his cum lands on her or not, either way, it's circling down the drain when he's finally able to open his eyes. "Fuck, you're a saint."

She furrows her brows. "Then why am I on my knees?"

Alex raises an eyebrow. "You want me on my knees?"

"I want to take a shower," she says. She grabs his hand to help her stand up.

He scoffs, "God, how boring of you."

"You have to condition my hair," she insists. 

He listens and carefully applies the product just how she likes it, letting it soak in. He detaches the showerhead from its stand, moving it closer to her head, the conditioner slowly washing away. Lottie has always liked the showerhead, specifically the water pressure. She raves about it like it's some Michelin Star showerhead. 

Alex drops the showerhead to his side, pets her hair back, and wraps an arm around Lottie's waist. "Job well done?" He asks.

She's rubbing the water out of her eyes as she nods. He moves the shower head so it's right around her. "Alex," she giggles. She tries to move but his arm has locked her in.

"What?" He asks, moving the head closer to her core. 

"We have to wash your head," she insists.

Alex says into her ear, "Uh, no, no. I don't think we have to do that right now." She's squirming, which he knows means it feels so good and hits her just right. Her clit is beaten with the water and she's trying to hold her noises in. "Let it out."

She's groaning and rutting her hips in an effort to achieve her high quickly. The water is a torturous pleasure. A hands-free application for getting off. She isn't sure what to do with her hands so she hangs onto Alex's arm holding her in. It's the only thing keeping her arm. His body is a wall for her to thrash upon. Then, she's whining before she's coming in full force. It's enough for her body to shake and for Alex to feel pride in his innovative thinking. 

He keeps his arm around her to keep her steady as he returns the showerhead to its holder. "Good, huh?" He asks teasingly.

She's panting and can't say much, so she just nods. After she washes her and they dry off in their towels, with the remaining 45 minutes, he lets Lottie get ready.

Alex is lying on their bed, still undressed minus his underwear. He's always enjoyed watching Lottie get ready. The way she darts in and out of their closet, holding a piece up to her body in the mirror, putting it back, trying a piece on, putting it back. She'll mess with her hair, up, down. She'll dash off into the bathroom to do her makeup before redoing her hair all over again.

She's always particular about it. She told him once she liked the act of getting ready. She liked the chaos and her clothes thrown about on the floor. He thinks she especially likes it when he cleans the mess up for her. 

Now, she's settled on a little black dress. She said once she didn't think she had the ability to pull mini dresses or skirts anymore after Franny was born. He said that was idiotic and pleaded with her to never stop wearing her minis. She's continued the habit since. Mostly in this summer heat but it makes him a little happy to know that she's watching him watch her as she pulls on the dress and asks him to zip it on for her. Then, she goes over to their bureau and slips on her Saint Michael necklace.

When she catches his eye in the mirror, she asks, "When are you going to get ready, mister?"

He sighs. "Okay, I'm up." He hops out of bed and hides away in the closet. His daily attire isn't much different from what he's wearing tonight. Something he knows she'll make fun of him for. "Do you want to take the tube?"

"Do I want to take the tube?" She repeats like it's some shocking piece of news.

"Yeah." He steps out of the closet, readjusting his suit jacket. She's putting on a black-heeled Mary Jane and staring at him bewildered. "Don't have to deal with parking and it'll be like old time's sake."

She sighs, "Fine. If my feet hurt you have to carry me on your shoulders like Francoise."

He bends down and kisses the top of her head. "Deal."

Typically on nights out, they'll drive the car, and since they haven't had many nights out without Franny the car has always been the easy choice when it's all three of them. The District line is packed enough that they have to stand against the pole. Alex likes this, even if it's shaky and hurts Lottie's feet. He wraps his arm around her and gets to keep her close as a means of keeping them steady. 

"You didn't even get to tell me about LA. I just babbled about myself the whole time," Lottie says in between Embankment and Westminster. 

Alex sighs. "It was good. I told you most of it on the phone. Worked, hung out with people, the usual drill. Would've been more fun if you had come with me."

"One day maybe. I don't like leaving Francoise so far away and she's too young for that kind of trip. Maybe next year when you're on tour."

"Yeah." He smiles. He can picture it. Them by the ocean. Lottie in a bikini, Franny in her cute little sun hat. A walk up to Griffith Observatory. Lottie insisting they go to the Walk of Fame then calling it stupid after seeing all the tourist traps. Trips to the Museum of Art, The Getty Museum, The Broad, Hammer Museum, whichever one or all of them. "I'd like that. You'll have to pick your favourite cities you want to join us for."

"I'd want all of them." She stares up at him softly. A sad smile plays on her first for a moment but they still have months before he'll be away. They'll figure it out. They always do. "But I'll make a list. Maybe leave Francoise with my maman for a couple of weeks and join you somewhere nice."

"Like Boston?" She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging him close, and giggling into his neck.

The gallery is small but decently packed. The paintings are abstract in a Jackson Pollock way that he's never quite understood but Lottie explained it to him once and it made sense. She doesn't seem to be enjoying this one. Her face is stuck in a frown but she holds the free champagne in her hand in a relaxed way, which means it can't be horrible.

"I liked the first one," he whispers in her ear. Her eyes follow where his eyes have landed—an art piece made of shattered glass that sits at the gallery's front doors. She snorts and crashes her head into his chest. "What?" He chuckles.

She lifts her head, just enough for him to see her. "That's a mirror that broke."

"No, it's..." he trails off looking at the object.

"A mirror that broke," she finishes.

"God, this art sucks."

She loudly shushes him. "I agree with you but I don't want the poor artist to overhear."

They take a few more minutes, trying to observe everything as best they can. He leans down to her ear. "Bouchon Racine."

She lets out a heavy breath. "Yes please."

They shuffle through the crowd quickly, her heels can be heard hitting the wood of the floor. They leave their glasses on the front desk and Alex leads them out of the building. "I swear I was going to suffocate in there."

Lottie giggles. "You are aware you don't have to wear a suit jacket 24/7."

"I like how I look in a suit," he says, all sweet and innocently.

She grabs his upper arm, shelving her head on his shoulder. "I like how you look in a suit."

"Nah, it's got nothing on you in that dress." He tugs on her waist, urgent and needy. "Very hot, Madame Guess."

She rolls her eyes. "Mademoiselle," she corrects. A pit forms in his stomach. He feels bad. These unintentional slip-ups keep occurring. She ignores the misstep. "I'm glad Bouchon is so close by because I'm hungry."

Their table is in the back right next to a wall. They look over their menus but they both already know what they want. They get the olives as a starter but Alex only eats one and leaves the rest for Lottie. "I want a bunny," she says.

Alex laughs. "Who are you? Franny?" Franny has this little bunny she sleeps with every night. Alex's dad got it for her when she was born and they think she'll have it forever. Despite having it for so long, she cares for it so cautiously that other than some slobber and stains, it's in a near-perfect condition.

"I think we should get a pet or something."

"Or another baby," he suggests.

"I'm not having another baby," Lottie casually announces. She sips her wine and looks away like her serious tone is no big deal. 

"Lottie."

She ignores him. "I wish Cadbury Eggs were in season year-round." Their dishes come and the conversation drifts away. 

Lottie is cutting her chicken and tells him, "Last night, Francoise came into our room in the middle of the night. She had a bad dream and she was telling me about it and she was lying, you know, on your side of the bed, and the whole time I'm thinking I'm talking to Alex."

He smiles so big it turns into a laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, she's so imaginative and she talks the same way you do—dreams the same way you do. She's got this active mind and she's so creative in the way she tells these things just like you. And she was so cute, you know how she is under those big covers, her body so small but so wiggly. She was like how you get in the morning when you stretch out."

"I'm glad she's a little like me. She looks just like you."

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You should've seen her last night. You would've thought you were looking in a mirror."

"All that creative stuff is from you too. That drawing she gave me today. You know what it reminds me of."

Lottie lands her head in the palm of her right hand laughing. "No, it does not."

"Yes, it does. It looks exactly like that drawing you did of me. It even had the flower prints around it like the ones you drew." In the first month, when they hid out in her little Parisian apartment, she sketched him one morning while they sat near her little Juliet balcony, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette between them. 

She concedes. "She's smarter than both of us."

And that he'll agree with.

After dinner, with an extra takeaway order of olives, they walk down the street for a box of macarons to cap off the French cuisine night. They take one each and put the rest away with the olives. 

"I wish I could bake," she says as she bites into her raspberry macaron. "Or you could bake. I wish one of us could bake."

"I'll learn for you," he says. "It'll be shit but it'll be better than whatever you make."

"I'd tell you to fuck off with that if it weren't true."

A lull of silence falls between them and he feels that questioning pit in his stomach. He finishes his vanilla one and once they cross the street he asks, "So, that thing about no more kids earlier."

"Hm?"

"We've never talked about it before but, you know, I'd like another one, maybe." He's trying to tread lightly. It's weird to not know where Lottie stands on something. He always figured she wanted more. Her words always seemed to be that way.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, okay."

"Why would we even have another kid if we're not going to get married?"

This neverending argumentative contention between them. "Lottie—"

"I just don't understand it," she's calm when she says this, unlike other times. The heat between them always tends to rise when they have this discussion that they never get to actually talk through it.

Before he can say anything, she boils over. "I mean, you want to have another kid but we won't get married."

"That's not it."

"That is it! How is it not it?" 

"Can we not fight right now?"

"You always do this! You always deflect everything!"

He grabs her forearm, stopping her from walking. "I'm not deflecting, I just don't want you to be screaming at me in the middle of the street."

The ride home is silent. He doesn't think that's ever happened before between them. Even when she was in labour they talked on the ride over. It's unnerving and he feels like something is lodged in his throat.

When they leave the underground, she walks five steps ahead of him and never gives him the chance to catch up so he figures he'll give her the physical space she needs. He walks with his hands in his pockets and looks down at his shoes. She walks with her arms crossed.

At home, she storms back into their bedroom without a word, slamming the door. "Can we talk about this? Come on." He stands in the living room. He drops to the couch, running his hands through his hair frustratingly. 

He hears the door click open and she comes rushing back out shoeless. She stops a few feet away from him. Her arms are crossed, her foot tapping the floor. "Well?"

Alex leans with his arms on his knees. "I don't know what you want me to do, Lottie."

"What I want you to do?" She's already firing up and he knows he can't stop it. "What do you want to do? It shouldn't be about what I want you to do. I'm not some control freak, Alex."

He scoffs, "No, you're not, but then you yell at me for every decision I make. You hold it against me like I forced you to do it."

She huffs, "No, I do not!"

Alex rolls his eyes and leans back against the couch. "Yeah, right."

"I moved to a whole other country for you! I had a baby for you!"

"Yes, yes, Lottie, in the ultimate sacrifice polls you're winning. Sorry, I've made your life so hard."

"Throw your own pity party, Alex. I don't want to deal with it." She's walking away, bitter and superior, and he can't take it.

"And that little display of yours. The poor French girl kidnapped from her home and impregnated against her will. Everything we've done has been mutual. We decided on London together. When you got pregnant we decided to have Franny. Don't act like I forced that on you."

"Then why won't you marry me?"

"I never said I didn't want to marry you."

"Are you kidding me?! You have shunned the idea completely. When I got pregnant and I wanted to get married you said it was because I had abandonment issues." He winces at that one. The last time they fought about this like they are doing now—full-out and acidic—he was mean, bringing up her dad. He's apologized for it ever since and he was right in thinking Lottie never forgave him for it.

"I didn't want you to think I married you because of Franny," he explains.

"I'm in this relationship too. I know how I feel about you and I was confident in the way you felt about me." Was. Had he really fucked up that badly? "You told me so!" He remembers. It was on the bathroom floor at her old place. A positive test sitting on the floor in front of them, everything felt right. 

"And I asked you then and you said that you didn't want me to be forced into it. Every time I've tried you've shut me down. I don't know what the fuck you want me to do, Lottie."

"I want you to want to do it. You ask me in the middle of a fight or when I've brought it up. It's a second thought to you."

"But it's not something I want to do." He just wants to be honest.

There are tears in his eyes and he feels like the biggest jerk ever. "Why?"

He shrugs. "It's just not my thing. But I'll do it if you want it."

She seems so small to him. Her hands are behind her back and she's looking down at her feet. "I want you to want me to be your wife."

"Lottie," he consoles. He stands up making his way over to her. "I do. I'm not going to shack up with some other chic—" he stops himself. Her eyes dart away from him, looking at the opposite wall from him. "Is this what this is about? You think I'm going to leave you."

She shrugs. "Once a cheater."

He's taken aback by it. He has to catch his breath for a moment. "Wow. You did that too, you know."

"What with my once-every-six-months boyfriend? You had a whole life with her—"

"No, I had a relationship with her. I have a life with you. I have a kid with you! Isn't that some sense of permanency?

"You have her name tattooed on your arm!"

"I thought we put this shit to bed years ago. Why do you have to dig it up? You don't think I feel horrible about that? I thought you were never a possibility. You know what it was like and if I could have done it differently I would have. If we got together in 2007 it would have never been an issue."

"You're going back to me not showing up in 2007. That's a new one, Alex. You're running on such low material you have to pull that out. You want me to be some housewife for you—"

He talks over her, "What are you talking about?!" 

"I was doing something for my career, for my life. Sorry, I didn't care about a stupid boy enough to mess with my whole future."

"It was a dumb comment. Why do you have to make it into such a huge issue? You're making a molehill out of a mountain." 

"I don't even know what that means but at least I'm better than you. You never even bothered with French."

"You're just bringing up every problem you have with me. What next? You don't like that I drive on the left-hand side of the road? You want to go through the problems I have with you, huh?"

"Yeah. Tell me how awful I am."

"That!" He points his finger at her. "You think everything is some attack against you."

"Right now it feels like it is."

"You're not a victim. Not against me. You're going to have a hard time getting rid of me, Lottie. I will be with you in whatever way you want but just because I don't want to have a wedding and I don't care about marriage that doesn't mean I love you any less. I loved you when I met you and that was that. Maybe I am a horrible guy that I was with other people and still thinking about you but I don't really think about everything else now that I'm with you. You and Franny are all I think about. You're all that matters."

She's got tears streaming down her face. He steps closer and wipes them away, holding her face in his hands. "You're a real sucker." She wetly giggles. "I love you. Did you know that?"

He shrugs. "I had a feeling." He kisses her softly and chastely. Some seal of love after a rough night. "Do you wanna go to bed now?"

"I don't want to have sex, Al."

He kisses her cheek. "I just want to lie with you. I'm really tired anyway."

She giggles. "Me too."

She wears one of his ratty old t-shirts and his boxers. He wears just his boxers and pulls her on top of him, skin-to-skin. They hold each other. No talking, just touch. She tucks herself in the nook of his neck and he rubs up and down her back until he feels her fall asleep. He falls asleep sometime after her.

Then, something wakes him up at around 4 AM. He thinks it's Franny at first but then he remembers she's not here. Lottie lies still beside him and he figures it must just be his jetlag. He thinks about getting up but doesn't. For a while, he hopes he'll fall asleep and then he starts to think.

He nudges Lottie awake. She stirs for a bit. She tosses and turns before finally opening her eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"Do you want to get married in Brussels?"

She's sleepy and still gaining cognizance. "What?"

"In July, I'd like to get married in Brussels. We could do it at the Town Hall. Can you do it in the Town Hall?"

She shakes her head against her pillow. "I don't know."

"Well, if we can, I'd like to do it there."

"With Saint Michael looking down." He nods. "Who knew you were such a religious guy?"

"Do you want to?" He rounds an arm around her waist. "Please say you want to."

Lottie nods. "Yeah. I want to."

"Good. Should Franny be our witness? Our flower girl?"

"Aw!" She coos. "She'd be such a cute flower girl. I'm going to find her the cutest dress." 

"You can plan the rest. I just want my two girls and Saint Michael."

*

a/n: i really wanted to get this out there so it hasn't gotten the full read-through. hopefully, it makes sense or my mistakes gave you a laugh. this is probably the last full part i'll do for this series unless i get struck with inspiration again. i might do some vignettes from it. either way, thanks for reading it!