#older reader

[yanderedrabbles]

Sunk and Gone

Yandere! Gangster x Mafia Boss! Reader

Fluff, needy yandere, age difference, slightly suggestive content

He was just some dumb kid who played with fire.

Before he knew it, he was getting his ass kicked by the real deal, the big time guys.

He dropped your name out of pure desperation. He had no clue who you were really. He just wanted to save his own skin.

He never expected you to actually show up.

In your white tailored suit, you were like some mafioso guardian angel.

You tilted his chin up to face you and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes. You were goddamn terrifying.

"This little punk says he's one of mine?"

You lazily blew your cigar smoke into his face. It was black cherry, high class stuff. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, the way it made his whole body tingle.

He thought he was done for. You were probably gonna set your own guys on him for dropping names he had no business knowing.

He never expected you to save him.

His beat down gurus were cussing up a storm, saying he practically maimed one of their guys, he wouldn't even be able to walk for a week.

What bullshit. The most he did was give the guy a shiner before he was getting his own ass kicked.

You smiled at him then, like you knew exactly how much crap they were spewing.

You nodded and your guys threw a fat stack of cash on the table. All 100s. God, there must have been at least 5k just sitting there.

You hauled him to his feet and that's when he realised you were stronger than you looked too.

"Why?"

He barely even managed to ask that.

You were trying to light a new cigar and get back in your fancy car, but your lighter was just throwing up sparks.

He found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shitty gas station lighter. He struck a flame and held it out to you.

You leaned in and caught his eyes for the second time that night. The flame was dancing in your eyes and you looked just like the devil.

He was sunk right then and there and he knew it.

He showed up outside your office everyday, waiting with his lighter clasped in his sweaty palm.

Everyday without fail, you would give him a chance to light one of your smokes for you.

"Don't you got someplace better to be kid?"

"No ma'am."

And he kept doing it, rain or shine or snow. On bad days, he'd bring his umbrella and unfurl it for you before you even stepped out of the car.

"You shouldn't keep hanging around kid. It ain't safe."

"I know ma'am."

He stayed, despite the dirty looks from the gangsters, despite the way they bumped into him hard enough to bruise. He stayed, stubborn as a goddamn mule, until you gave up on getting rid of him.

"I got a job for you kid."

"Anything you ask ma'am."

Oh he was a sucker for you. You had him hook, line and sinker without even trying.

And he worked hard. Running errands and then pushing drugs and then beating down the folks you set him loose on. There weren't any limits anymore, no line he wouldn't cross for you.

After a while, you let him in your guard rotation. And he was in bliss. He watched you constantly.

Hell, he couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. The capo himself said he was impressed with his diligence.

"Come here kid. You ever had oysters before?'

"No ma'am."

You were in one of your favourite restaurants, finishing up your meal and just drunk enough to have given yourself a pretty flush across your cheeks.

You made him lean toward you and gripped his chin before tilting the oyster into his mouth. It was salty and soft and his mind was going awful dirty awful fast.

After that he would order oysters whenever he could. He could almost feel your fingers on his skin when he ate them.

And soon he was part of your interrogation crew. His shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms splattered with blood. He was putting on muscle now too and his punch hurt worse than a hammer to the face.

One unlucky son of a bitch made the mistake of insulting you right in front of him. God help him, when the anger cleared, the man's face was nothing more than pulp.

And you were watching him. One arm crossed under your breasts with the other balanced on it, a cigarette held up to your lips.

"You're a real good guard dog, you know that kid?"

"Thank you ma'am."

The next time you summoned him, you were in your office. Your heels were off and your legs were crossed, your stockings showing off the curves of your feet.

"Grab that pen for me."

It was on the floor under a side table and he had to get down on his knees to get it. When he moved to stand, you interrupted him.

"Don't get up. But bring it here."

"Yes ma'am."

He was grinning like a dog in heat. He put the pen in between his teeth and crawled on his hands and knees to you.

He sat at your feet like a goddamn puppy, his boner so fucking hard he thought it would rip through his trousers.

You cupped his chin in your palm and looked down at him. From down here, your legs looked a mile long and he wanted to lick every inch.

"You're such a loyal little thing, you know that?"

"Ysss mmm."

It was muffled because he still had that fucking pen in his mouth. And he was damn thankful for it too. Without something to bite onto, he was sure he'd actually be panting.

You took it carefully out of his mouth. A string of saliva followed it and you twitched your thumb across his lips to break the connection.

"Good boy."

You turned away from him, shaking the pen off a little and getting back to the books you were balancing.

He whimpered.

He actually fucking whimpered.

You smirked a little at that and shooed him away with one perfectly manicured hand. He dragged his feet walking out of there, his boner killing all higher thinking. Just hoping and praying you would call him back.

He turned to look at you before he closed the door. You had your face resting in one hand and you were tapping the pen against your lips with the other. Your eyes were entirely focused on your books.

And he felt it all over again. He was sunk - hook, line and sinker.

He was your loyal dog. Now and always.

[clairewritesfanfics]

No Goggles!Mark Grayson Origin Part 4

Pairing: No Goggles!Invincible x Older!Reader

Part 3

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Unplanned pregnancy, descriptions of bodily harm, mild swearing, No Goggles is a little freak

When the first test came out positive, you stayed calm. False positives were a thing.

You barely slept as required and your job left you stressed every waking moment, so your period was often irregular, but when you started dating Mark, who was insatiable to say the least, you took a pregnancy test every time your period was late. Every test turned out negative or a false alarm. 

For false alarms, you simply needed to recheck and everything would be fine. But not this time. No. Every single stick said the same thing: you were pregnant. 

Logically, you knew this was possible. Despite all your efforts–condoms, sponges, injections, timing–everything short of surgery and an IUD, nothing was 100% effective. 

You didn’t know what to feel at first. Shock, fear, anxiety, terror. Not exactly what expecting mothers should be feeling. 

You remembered crying. You cried a lot. You were grateful that Mark was out for a multi-day mission with the others when you first confirmed the pregnancy.

He needed to know, it was his right, but… He wasn’t even a college graduate, for God’s sake. He was also a “teen” superhero on the cusp of getting promoted. He already dedicated so much of his time to you. Hell, he never went to parties or hangouts with his classmates or teammates unless you insisted, and even then he would return two hours after leaving you.

He said he was happy, he said he loved you, and you believed him, truly. That’s why you couldn’t be the woman who ruined his future.

After you broke up with Mark and he accidentally fractured your wrist, you spent a good five hours weeping on the floor before pulling yourself together and going to the hospital.

“Hey, you, I thought you had the day off?” 

Of course, it had to be him. The friendly jerk. What was his name again?

You glanced at his nametag. Josh. 

“I did,” you answered quietly.

“Then why–what the hell?”

“It’s not a big deal. I just needed to get this checked.”

He went from flirty to professional in an instant. He unrolled the recklessly done bandages and narrowed his eyes at the injury. 

One x-ray and an excruciating re-alignment later, he finally asked while you two were alone, “Wanna tell me what happened? And don’t say something stupid like you fell down the stairs. We both know this was something else.” 

You stared at your cast. Then you turned to him with a blank face. “I’m thirsty.” 

He looked at you like you grew a second head, but followed you to the bar across the street.

“Seriously?” He watched you stir your milkshake with a paper straw. “You really hate booze that much?”

“I can’t drink alcohol right now.”

“Why?” He picked up his pint. “Are you pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Beer squirted through his nostrils and he lurched over the counter, coughing. 

The bartender handed him a pile of tissues while you sipped on your drink. 

“I figured– ack –I figured you had something serious going on considering how mopey you’ve been, but I didn’t expect this.” He wiped the bar counter and without looking at you, he asked, “Did the father do that to you?”

“Actually, he doesn’t know.”

“The father… is he the boy toy–I mean, your boyfriend? But I thought he was still in college?”

You said nothing.

“Ah.” He sighed and went back to his pint. “That sucks.” 

You stirred the milkshake again. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

Again, you said nothing.

“You know he has the right to know, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“Are you going to keep them?”

You stopped stirring, your vision blurred. “I don’t know.”

“Crap, I’m sorry, don’t cry.” He picked up the remaining tissues and handed them to you. “I’m sorry I called him your boy toy.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re the first to call him that.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“...Thanks.”

“What’re you gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Maybe move.” 

“You can’t run away. He’s young, but he’s still the father. He deserves to know.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just… I think I just needed someone to say it out loud.” You let out a big sigh. “I shouldn’t have pushed him away.”

Josh watched you for a few seconds before reaching into his satchel. He uncapped a black marker. “Give me your arm.”

You let him write on your cast.

“‘ Shake it off’ ?” You gave him a look of incredulity. 

It was his turn to shrug. “Well, I don’t think a bible verse would fit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed. It was so stupid. “Thanks.”

“No problem. It’s getting late. I’ll drive you home, and don’t refuse.”

You accepted his offer. The drive home was quick and you thanked him again as you got out of the car.

“Hey.” He leaned over the passenger seat. “It’s gonna be fine. Just talk to him before you decide on anything else.”

“It may be too late for that.”

“You’ve always been the logical one in our team. Don’t start being stupid now.”

“You realize that I’m technically your superior, right?” 

He winked and you shut the door.

He was right. 

Feeling much better, you breathed in the evening air, unaware of the pair of eyes observing you from afar.

***

Mark hasn’t been picking up your calls. Understandable. You did ask for this. In the past, he’d pick up at the first ring, and now you knew how he felt when you missed his calls. 

You put a hand over your belly. 

After that talk with Josh, you made up your mind. You were going to be a mom. Mark would be free to be as involved as he wanted. That is if you got him to talk to you.

He didn’t open the door when you reached his apartment and you really didn’t want to speak with Nolan. He might’ve been polite but he always looked at you with a chilly regard. 

“Desperate times,” you muttered, scrolling through your list of contacts. “Hello? Donald? It’s me, I hope I’m not disturbing–”

Static and the sound of panicked panting interrupted your words. Donald called out your name, out of breath and in distress. “Thank God! We were about to call you!”

Your shoulders tensed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s–”

The line was cut off.

“Hello? Hello?! Donald?!” You redialed but there was no ring. Suddenly, you tumbled into the wall as the whole building shook. Several apartment doors flung open and dozens of residents ran out screaming.

Your pager beeped. It was the hospital. 

Forcing yourself to your feet, you followed the stream of civilians down the emergency exit. 

By the time you got outside, the neighborhood–no, the whole city was in chaos. The roads were cracked, revealing broken pipes that flooded the streets with filthy gray water. A line of buildings was bright red as tall, angry flames licked the sky and filled it with smoke. A signal tower from a few blocks away was bent at the tip. You could hear sirens and shouting everywhere.

Shit.

You needed to get to the hospital ASAP. This disaster meant they were going to need every pair of hands available, though your wrist was still in a splint, you knew a bunch of fresh graduates who would require a more experienced doctor to guide them.

But before that…

You surveyed the scene. There was a little boy whose arm was bleeding. An old woman was on her knees, her whole form was heaving, struggling to breathe. There were more injured civilians. 

A policeman ran towards you. “Miss, you need to leave now!”

You searched inside your purse and clipped your hospital ID on the collar of your shirt. “I’m fine, prioritize escorting the others first. I’m going to help with the injured.”

Two ambulances arrived. One of them had Josh on board. If he was curious about your presence in the area he didn’t voice it. 

“Any idea what caused this?” You asked, pushing back any stray hairs that could interfere with your job and shoving them under a haircap. 

“At first we thought it was an earthquake, but we caught Omni-Man and Invincible flying around so we think it might be a villain attack.”

Mark.

You pushed that thought away. You couldn’t afford to be emotional right now.

“I’ve never dealt with this level of catastrophe before,” Josh admitted. 

Understandable. He was originally from a small town before he came to this city, which was villain central.

“Consider this your baptism.” You then split up and went to work. You couldn’t exactly put back bones together or stitch up wounds, but you helped ground the new hires who have never dealt with emergencies before.

Once you were done with the patients in the neighborhood, you went with the ambulance back to the hospital.

Checking for vitals, overseeing transfers, calming down delirious patients, worried family members and nervous young doctors left you exhausted to the point that even your boss had to ask you to take a break.

“You should get some rest, we’ll take it from here,” Josh said as you two headed for the vending machine.

“I guess.”

“Wow. I expected more resistance.”

“I’m not a workaholic.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He caught you by the elbows when you began to lose balance. “Are you–”

“I’ll be fine, I just… need a moment.”

He let go. “Go home, doctor.” 

You sighed. There was no point in arguing.

You were already on your way to the elevator when your phone rang. 

“Donald?”

“Finally, I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.”

“I had to set my phone to airplane mode. What happened?”

“It’s Mark.”

Your shoulders tensed. 

“He’s in surgery.”

“What?”

“We need you at the base.”

You gritted your teeth. “I’m on my way.”

With the roads all ripped up, the ride to the GDA base was excruciatingly slow.

When you arrived at the building, no introductions were necessary, the guards brought you to Cecil and Donald immediately. 

They were standing outside giant window panes that started from the floor and reached all the way to the ceiling.

“Where is he? Is he okay? What happened?”

“Easy, doc.” Cecil raised his palm placatingly, then he gestured towards the window.

You peered through and saw Mark unconscious and surely bare naked under the white cloth that covered him from his chest to his knees. He wore an oxygen mask so at least you knew he was still alive.

Donald began to explain, “We’re not too sure about the details… but from what we’ve seen, he and Omni-Man got into a fight. A big one.”

“Nolan did this to him? His own son?”

Donald could only offer a look of helplessness.

You touched the glass. “Where is he now?”

“We don’t know,” Cecil replied. “We lost track of him when they flew past Earth’s atmosphere.”

“What’s Mark’s status?”

Donald gave you his datapad. You scrolled through the patient history, each line was a stab at your heart.

He had multiple hairline fractures, torn muscles everywhere, eight bruised ribs, both eyes were inflamed, and he was missing several teeth.

“Here.” Someone offered you a handkerchief.

You lifted your chin and saw Cecil looking at you, face blank.

You gratefully took the cloth and wiped your tears. “I’m staying by his side.”

“We figured as much. We’ll move him to a more private room. Donald will take you there.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way.” Cecil stopped you before you could walk away. He stood still, only staring at you, like he wasn’t sure of what to say. 

You were growing impatient. “What is it?” 

“Are you and Mark okay?”

Your fingers twitched. Even someone like Josh noticed how Mark became absent the past few months. Cecil was Cecil so he probably knew of your… relationship problems. 

You took a moment to answer. “We hit a rough patch.”

“But you’re still together, aren’t you?” 

“No offense, Cecil, but that’s not any of your business.”

“I’m sorry, but it is, considering that Mark is one of our most valuable weapons. The state of your relationship tends to influence how he works.”

Rage filled your stomach and you stepped forward, pointing an accusatory finger towards his chest. “ How dare you. Mark is not a weapon, he is a living, breathing human being, a person who has dedicated most of his life protecting you and me and everybody else on this godforsaken planet. You don’t get to treat him as some kind of tool that needs to be controlled and monitored.” 

He narrowed his eyes. For a moment, he looked ready to argue, but instead he shook his head and turned his back to you. “Go. He’s gonna need someone when he wakes up.”

Donald didn’t say anything, which you appreciated. 

Once you were left alone with the love of your life, you allowed the rest of your tears to fall as you sat beside him, holding his hand in yours. With nothing but the hum of the AC and the steady rhythm of Mark’s heart to keep you company, you took in your lover’s appearance. You read Mark’s file, but nothing could have ever prepared you for seeing him like this.

His face was nearly unrecognizable. His chest heaved with every breath.

Over the years, you learned to steel your nerves as you got used to seeing bodies mangled and shredded. But you weren’t the doctor here, you were the patient’s family. 

You put a hand over to his cheek, your knuckles feathered over the cut swollen skin. 

He stirred.

Then he groaned softly as he woke up, turning his head. It took him a while to adjust to the light, but when he finally became aware, his bed rattled as he shot to a sitting position.

“Careful!” You put your hands over his shoulders. “You’re injured, stay down.”

He stilled under your touch and turned to you. You resisted the urge to fidget under his stare.

“Why are you here?”

You tried not to flinch at the venom in his voice. Mark’s never talked to you like this before, but you would gladly receive his anger.

“Donald called me. He said you were in surgery.”

“Why?”

“Mark–”

“I thought you didn’t want to be with me.”

You deserved that.

“I don’t need your pity.” He swung his head to the other side, glaring at the heart monitor.

“You can be angry, but please look at me.”

A beat. Then he reluctantly raised his swollen eyes to meet yours. 

You refused to break down. You needed to be strong for him. So you gulped down the lump in your throat and cradled his face between your palms. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

You smiled thinly. “I figured.” 

His lips twitched. “Dad…held my face against a train.”

“Fuck.”

He bent forward, chuckling, but his laugh was soon covered by a groan of pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Instead of answering, he stared at you intently, like he was drinking every last detail of you. “Are you really here?”

That took you by surprise.

He reached over, his thumb ghosting over your lips. “Or am I dreaming again?”

And just like, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You pulled back, your hands covering your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the whimpers. 

“I’m sorry, Mark, I’m sorry.”

He watched as you swallowed down your sobs and breathed. 

You straightened your back, trying to compose yourself. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

He was silent. His expression was unreadable.

You looked down at your lap. “I… I should’ve been more upfront. Should’ve told you from the beginning.”

“I know.”

Your whole body froze. He knows? 

You raised your chin and nearly jumped. His gaze wasn’t full of understanding but something dangerous, something dark and cold. 

“You cheated on me,” he said matter-of-factly. 

Your brain crashed. But it quickly rebooted and you shook your head furiously. “No! What… no! I would never do that to you.”

“You don’t have to lie, I saw you. What was his name? Jacob or something? I saw you in his car.”

You clenched your fists, desperate now. “He just gave me a ride home, that’s it.”

“From a bar.”

How did he… 

It doesn’t matter.

You grabbed his hand. “Mark, listen to me. I have never, ever cheated on you. I’ve never even so much as entertained the idea of doing that. Ever . You were–are the only one for me.”

He blinked, expression breaking for a moment before he grinned sardonically. “Then why did you break up with me? And why have you, who has never been the type to drink after work, decided to go to a bar with a man you barely know?”

“Because I’m pregnant, you idiot!” You wanted to smack your own face. “Sorry, no, that’s not right. You’re not an idiot. I didn’t mean that. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

It was Mark’s turn to crash. The darkness broke completely, leaving him wide-eyed and his jaw ajar. He gulped slowly.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“With my kid?”

“With our kid.”

Several heartbeats passed. 

Mark ran his fingers through his hair.

You rubbed your arms. You two haven’t talked about having a family before, not really, because you were busy with your job and Mark was busy being a superhero, and just as importantly, being a college student. Life was good. You were both happy. Talks of the future were limited to what you two wanted for dinner next Thursday or who was going to plan date night next. You discussed marriage–well, he mentioned marriage every now and then–even only in passing, but never brought up children. 

“I don’t want you to feel pressured. We didn’t plan for this.” You chose each word carefully as you put a hand over your belly. “But I decided to keep them.”

His eyes had that faraway look to them. 

You continued, “I should’ve told you from the very beginning, I know that. But I panicked, and I was worried about you. About us. But I’m telling you now. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay and be a father. You’re young–”

“Stop.” 

You did.

“You keep saying that I’m young, and you act like you have to worry about the big things and make all the big decisions alone. I’m younger than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your equal.” Mark squeezed your hand. “You said you would never cheat on me–”

“I never did, and I never will.” 

The bed creaked as he shuffled around and reached for something in the night stand drawer.

“It’s the same for me, there was only ever you. So I’m going to ask you properly this time.” He revealed the ring he had prepared days ago. 

“How–”

“I kept it with me even when I was in costume. Before they started treatment, I asked one of the nurses to keep it close. I’m glad he listened.”

You stared at the ring. It was exactly your style. Simple yet opulent. 

Mark lifted it between the two of you and offered his hand. He said your name, eyes full of adoration, and asked, “will you marry me?”

You smiled back, hoping the look in your face had even just a fragment of the love he showed you, and placed your fingers on his palm. “Of course.” 

The ring fit perfectly. 

You leaned down and kissed him, actively avoiding the questions at the back of your mind. The type of questions whose answers should’ve sent you running.

For example, Mark left this ring in the condo when you broke up. Up until now, you have had zero contact with him. So how did he manage to take it from the vault that only your fingerprint could open? It was one thing if he forced it open, but it was still intact.

“Sweetie?” Mark called.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

“I promise. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist with ease. He buried his nose in your torso.

“Huh.” It came out before you realized it.

“What?”

“Just that… Viltrumites sure do heal fast.” 

He tilted his head.

“You didn’t seem to be in pain when I kissed you, but your face and your arms should still be hurting. That’s what your chart says.” 

A beat. A smile. “Yeah, we do heal fast.”

“That’s good. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Then you should take better care of me. Make sure I don’t do anything stupid or reckless.”

You giggled. “I will.”

He mumbled something into your stomach.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I’m telling the little one that I’m excited to meet them.”

You felt the tension leave your shoulders and you patted his head. “Me too.”

***

Mark breathed in your scent. God, he missed this. He missed you.

Poking holes in the condoms wasn’t as useless as he thought. He would’ve done more, like switch out your pills, but you definitely would’ve noticed that. 

It was cute how careful you were. In fact, he appreciated it. He didn’t want to share your attention with some brat, but it was an effective way to keep you by his side. 

He rubbed his nose onto your abdomen. “If you die young, that’d be great, too.” Nothing like a senseless tragedy to bind two people together. He already has proof that you love him so carrying this thing to term wasn’t necessary anymore. Though he definitely won’t protest in seeing you round and full, waddling around, helpless and pouty and adorable. He was getting hard just thinking about it.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that,” you said.

Channeling his inner puppy, he beamed up at you. “Just telling the little one that I’m excited to meet them.”

A/N: The next chapter will be the final one for this Mark Variant's origin.

@danart501

Part 5

[eloquentlytired]

18+ NSFW. MDNI.

fisherman! logan howlett x older! reader

word count: a lot

warning(s): smut, build up to smut, logan is 30 while the reader is in her 40s ( u choose how much ), cheating, logan is smitten with his beloved customer, reader has a daughter, and logan calls the reader mama sometimes bc she is indeed the best mama, reader’s husband is a dckhead if it makes u feel better, mentions of neglect and shitty behavior ( from husband ), but logan makes everything better, I LOWKEY LOVED WRITING THIS

note: I haven't written for older!reader before but I hope I didn't disappoint you my beloved anon! In the meantime I hope everyone enjoys reading this one if YES pls interact it'd make me happy🩷🥰 thank you always for the support !!!

There's nothing that makes Logan happier than doing the work he likes. It's a blessing to have found a small area he's fond of and an even bigger blessing to help out customers. Or to help you specifically.

Logan sees you for the first time when he opens the fish shop — it's the first one to open after the old one has shut down. You greet him with the sweetest smile while your daughter holds your hand.

“Good morning.” You tell him so kindly and your smile turns out to be contagious because Logan returns it instantly.

You ask him about his life and how he's ended up in this place while Logan prepares your groceries. He tells you but purposely leaves some things out of the way. It isn't wise of him to talk about his mutant abilities either way, he wouldn't want to scare you.

He finishes your order purposely slow but you don't tell him off, you don't even reprimand him for it. You smile and wave him off — and your sweet daughter does too.

After that he sees you many times. If he was a fool he'd assume that your diet is mostly sea food but no — Logan has caught on. And you have caught on his stares in return.

“My husband likes this but I much prefer tuna. I'm not sure why.” You tell him as you scan the new products he's stuffed his shop with.

Logan nods.

“Tuna is the best in my opinion.” He says.

“You really think so?” The way your eyes sparkle when you ask him, happy to just share something common with another person.

Logan is an absolute loser— “I really think so.” —and he actually despises tuna.

It's raining heavily when you enter his shop one day, drenched from head to toe. You're shivering while your hands are filled with shopping bags, making your shoulders fall because of the weight. Logan rushes to you — he was about to close up but it doesn't matter anymore — and takes the bags from your hands, stacking them on the counter of his shop.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him softly and Logan can hear the regret in your tone. “I know I shouldn't have come so late. I was trying to stack up the fridge because of the incoming storm. And I've left my daughter in the house alone too, my husband wouldn't pick up the phone—” He's heard that one before from you surely. The bastard.

You stop talking when Logan is suddenly by your side, wrapping a blanket around your shivering body. Your eyes meet and Logan prays that he stays sane through it all. Promises he hasn't noticed the way your long dress has become one with your skin or how the little mascara you've worn has run down your cheeks. Yet you look flawless to him.

“Hey.” Logan calls your name softly and you wonder when it's the last time you've heard someone say it like that, in that loving tone.

Logan doesn't speak your name to order you around to do his laundry or his food. Or the dishes. Or the chores. Or the gardening. Or...

His palm is warm when it settles on your shoulder and it pulls you off your trance. He's kind with his touch and with his gaze — Logan always has been with you. “I’ve got you.” He mutters and you break down in his arms.

Moments later, he's dragged you into the back of the shop and you sit on top of a counter wearing his clothes, sweatpants and a sweater, which barely fit. Logan is big— really big.

“I look ridiculous.” You say with a small chuckle but Logan's eyes regard you differently as he cooks. For you.

“You look perfect.” He whispers and it makes you freeze a little, makes you question everything that the golden ring around your finger stands for.

He notices, of course he does, but he doesn't mention it. Hell, Logan doesn't even think he cares when your husband is the way he is.

“Tell you what.” He suddenly says breaking the long silence. His hands move swiftly as he finishes preparing a giant portion of tuna and rice. You watch as he places the food in tupperware, counting the little boxes. “This is big enough to feed three people and coincidentally—” Both of you smile at the last word. “— we are two. And your daughter is one more, isn't she?”

Your heart beats fast within your chest and your tears prickle your eyes. It's perfect. It's too good to be true.

“I would hate for this food to go to waste and I'm sure the two of you are starving.” You watch him as he uses one hand to hold the food bag and the other to carry your other six shopping bags.

You move forward, hands reaching out so you can help him but Logan tuts instead and uses his knee to keep you back.

“I dare you.” He grumbles playfully and you nearly shudder because of the way he says it.

“You should respect your elders, Logan.” You manage to say between heavy breaths but all Logan does is feel amused.

He grins, then takes a step closer and you momentarily lose air when he leans too close. “Careful, mama. I wouldn't want you to be late.”

You stare at him still processing his words as he walks away to start his car. The ring around your finger feels weightless.

The dinner is good and you can't register a time when both you and your daughter have laughed so hard before. Dinner is usually dull, especially with your husband around, but you didn't even miss the good old times anymore. They were always overshadowed by the bad ones.

You watch as Logan plays with your daughter and your heart secretly flutters. Yearns for a different life than the one you have right now.

But it's too late, you think, and Logan could still build a good life with someone his age. Why would you even destroy that when he's been so good to you?

But then Logan turns to you and begins to talk. I'll do the dishes, don't you dare move. Stop thinking so much, you'll hurt your pretty mind. What a lucky girl to have a mama like this one.

So that's why you can't let go.

Your daughter is fast asleep. Husband nowhere in sight. No answers, no nothing.

Logan watches you from where he's doing the dishes, sitting on the couch and looking outside. You've drawn the curtains open to watch the rain. It's worrisome weather but it somehow soothes you.

“You worried about him?” Logan suddenly asks, taking you by surprise.

“I should be but I..” You shake your head and leave it at that. Logan understands.

There's more silence but it's not uncomfortable. There's no such word when Logan is around you, taking care of you. He wraps it up with the dishes and heads over to your stereo, fidgeting with it to find a signal.

“It won't work, Lo. Leave it.” You tell him softly and the petname makes him want to drop dead. In a good way of course.

Logan doesn't listen — he searches and searches. Then he finds it and turns to you with a wide grin in his face as if expecting some sort of praise.

Instead, he walks to you while the unknown beat of jazz fills the living room and offers you his hand.

“I don't think we should..” Your voice trails off when Logan doesn't budge. He simply won't.

You take his hand as he pulls you to the center of the room and slides an arm around your waist being so carefully. You rest your hand on his shoulder while your other two intertwine.

He sways with you and you sway with him. There's rhythm, there's harmony. There's something there you haven't had for over a decade and although Logan could have anybody else in this world, he looks most content there. With you.

“There are many people out there for you.” You begin to say as he leans his head closer to yours.

He doesn't reply so you insist.

“People your age. As old as you are—” Logan spins you around and then presses his chest against your back. You're somehow all over him, moving against him.

Both of his hands move to your waist and Logan takes the courage to press his lips against the spot behind your ear.

“I hate tuna.” Logan mumbles, his voice raspy and filled with need. His next actions shock you as he slides one of his hands over yours and strokes over your wedding ring. Logan grips it, removes it and lifts it to your eye level. “But I hate this more.”

The moment he tosses it away, he turns you around and his eyes speak so many things. Need. Desperation. Love. Struggle.

“Wear it back and I'll leave. Don't—” He swallows nervously. “—and I'll make you happy, mama. I swear I will.” But you've never doubted that for a second.

You stare at the carpet, at that little golden band shimmering somewhere. Then back at Logan.

“I’ll hold you back. You'll get bored with me, of me. Having me and my daughter— you won't—”

Logan kisses you because he can't stand listening. But he also can't stand holding back anymore.

The surprise is momentary as you squeeze your arms around his shoulders, struggling to fit all of him into a hug. Logan surprises you more when he uses a single arm to pick you up by your hips, your legs instinctively locking around his waist.

“Lo—”

You're more desperate than he is and for so many different reasons. He carries you to the nearest efficient surface — the dining table — and sits you there carefully.

Your eyes lock for a moment as Logan steals another kiss from you. “You want the ring?” He asks and you almost laugh. Fuck the ring.

You're the one who initiates the next kiss, tilting your head to deepen the action. Your hands tremble with excitement, Logan's tremble because he's never touched such a beautiful woman before in his entire life. His woman.

He's quick with your his clothes although a little messy. You can feel his excitement but also his nerves shifting as he reaches for your bra next, struggling to take it off.

“Easy.” You whisper against his lips and Logan is surely dead, must be dreaming. The hook never comes off because Logan rips the front of your bra with his bare hands and disregards it like it's nothing.

You can feel yourself physically react, cunt clenching around nothing although you want it to be around him. Now.

He's right here, your arms wrapped around his head as Logan takes a bud into his mouth and sucks. You react by whimpering softly and Logan sucks harder as his hand occupies your other breast, fondling it within his fingers.

The attention on your chest makes you weak, you love it. You're sensitive, he murmurs before grazing your nipple with his teeth. “I need more.” You find the courage to tell him and Logan nods because so does he.

His fingers grip your panties and rip it too — he has no control over that. It's like a primal urge to do it.

“How long?” Logan asks as he rubs two fingers across your cunt, parting your lips teasingly before releasing them. Every motion offers a wet noise from you. It's embarrassing.

“I don't remember.” You answer and it's all he needs to know to confirm about the failure your husband is.

You watch Logan drop to his knees. His eyes are blown wide with lust and his mouth parts as if starving. You realize what he wants and that he's been craving this moment since forever. The thought alone makes you shiver.

“I have never—” done this, you want to tell him but Logan let's his youth take over his reactions.

His hands are strong around your thighs, they're secure and sure. He won't drop you and you fucking know it as he guides your lower half over his face and sits you down hard.

Your hands shoot up to cover your mouth.

Logan mouths against your pussy before parting your folds with his tongue, dragging it high and low. Your hips shake and he flexes his fingers around your thighs, squeezing every skin he can get.

He licks everywhere. All of you.

His face gets buried into your weeping pussy as his nose grinds against your clit and his tongue circles your entrance teasingly slow. There's too much coming out of you, you're like an endless stream, and Logan isn't afraid to taste every drop.

It becomes worse when he distances you from the table and your legs dangle off the floor. You stare wide eyed because your only means of support is Logan's hands on your hips oh — and his face which has basically turned into your personal seat.

“Logan wait—” You yelp but your voice is muffled by your hands.

Logan doesn't listen, doesn't even pull away to breathe. The man is starved and there's only one thing he wants to achieve — to eat you whole.

You've given up trying to reason with him especially when he eats you out this way. You move your hips fast and are desperate to reach your peak. Logan's fingers tighten around your thighs as he guides your thrusts, moaning while you ride his face.

You bite your lip as you throw your head back and arch your entire body, thighs shaking around Logan's head. He wiggles his tongue against your clit as you orgasm, the stimulation of your bud making your entire body quiver.

He's got you, hands steadier than ever and keeping you safe, as you come.

When he slowly pulls you off, you look down at him but the concern melts away. You stare at his face and faint beard covered by your slick. It's not embarrassing anymore — it's different. You can't have enough.

The door of your marital bedroom is shut and locked firmly. Whatever shame or guilt you might have felt at the start, it doesn't exist anymore.

Your legs dangle on Logan's shoulders as he pounds you, his cock rummaging through your tight walls and hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Not like this.

His balls are heavy again and full of the load he wants to fill you with. But it's been hours like this and he hasn't stopped — Logan is something else.

“You think you can fit one more for me? Let me fill you up?” His lips brush against your ear and you shiver. You nod, lips fallen wide for sometime now and blabbering incoherent words. Logan only catches the more leaving your lips.

His hands keep your legs risen and over his shoulders as he fucks you, his balls smacking against your skin with each pound. They're covered in cum too because of how many times Logan has filled you, some of it pouring out.

It's too much but at the same time not nearly enough.

Your hands twist the bedsheets beneath you and you look at him — silently pleading with him to swallow your noises. Logan knows and his lips find yours, silencing you just in time as he comes again and pours his seed into you for the last time.

His heels dig against the bed because it's so intense as you squeeze around him and use one of your hands to toy with your over sensitive clit, feeling it all. Taking everything in.

“Logan.” You moan against the kisses and he grunts softly, swallowing every sound and word. You come around his cock with a shuddering gasp again and Logan releases your legs to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him.

Your hands move enough to grip his bare shoulders, scratching them.

“Ride it out. So good.” Logan pants while squeezing you by your waist, lying on his side and dragging you with him.

He guides your hip around him, letting his hand linger there as his cock softens within you.

“There she is.” Logan whispers, looking at you. Seeing you receiving pleasure is one thing but to witness your peaceful expression, looking so content and happy... How could Logan ever let go of that?

You grab a hold of the hand that caresses your thigh and bring it to your lips. Logan watches you as you kiss every space between and on top of his knuckles, eyes fluttering. Your gaze lingers and so does his.

“You know.” He states after a while, nose brushing against yours.

“I know.” You reply and his heart jumps a little; not knowing if it's good or bad that you've discovered his true nature. His mutant side.

You kiss him, slow and gentle.

“You’re beautiful.” Is the answer that slips out of your lips and Logan wants to take you all over again but he doesn't. It isn't his intention to break you in such little time — now is just the start.

His strong arms pull you close and he blindly reaches for something. A blanket. He covers you with it and when your eyes meet again, Logan nudges your nose with his.

“You’re so perfect.” He says, voice raspy per usual, and kisses your face. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. “Gonna fucking die for you. Kill too.”

Your heart fills with affection and love. Your worries and the demons keeping you away from him are long gone now — Logan is right there. He's chosen you like you've chosen him. There's only one thing left to do.

“You happen to have two spots open in your heart?” You ask him and Logan smiles — it's the widest smile you've ever seen from him.

He nods.

“Just two? We can make it more than that. If you want I'll make you a mama again right now—” He's blowing raspberries at your nape as you wiggle, supposedly trying to shake away from his grip. That hollow room is filled with laughter after years of dullness.

Like you've said.

There's only one thing left to do.

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter one

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: you help steady the hospital’s chaos with quiet rituals and small acts of kindness. order and routine make each shift feel almost predictable. yet, tomorrow may demand more than the calm you rely on.

⤿ warning(s): medical-talk + inaccuracies, blood

⟡ story masterlist ; next

✦ word count: 2.8k

You used to have dreams—bright ones, hungry ones.

But somewhere between the double shifts and the endless hum of fluorescent lighting, those dreams had quieted. They hadn’t disappeared, not entirely, but now they came in the form of small things: the smell of tea steeping before sunrise, the clean snap of hospital sheets, the stillness of your apartment before the day began.

You lived alone, but that was never a tragedy to you.

Your apartment was modest. Cozy. Lived-in, with warm wooden floors and cream curtains that kissed the edges of your windows. One plant thrived stubbornly in the corner by the radiator—some gifted thing you’d kept alive out of sheer spite. Photos of nieces, nephews, and long-lost vacations sat on the sideboard. The kitchen was small, but clean. You kept your things tidy, because life was messy enough at the hospital.

It was your control. Your calm.

Your mornings began the same way they had for years. Wake up before the sun, curl your toes into your slippers, and shuffle toward the kettle. Black tea, strong. You didn’t bother with cream or sugar. Just heat and caffeine and the comfort of routine. You drank it while checking your phone—usually a few texts from Dana, the charge nurse over in Emergency, and an update or two from your sister about her youngest’s science project.

Then, a hot shower. Soft music playing in the background—today it was old blues, something mellow. You dressed in your gray scrubs, slipped on your comfortable shoes, and made your way to the kitchen.

You didn’t believe in skipping meals—not after years of surviving on vending machine food and sheer willpower. 

The contents of your first lunch bag were already waiting in the fridge: slices of roasted chicken you’d basted the night before, still fragrant with lemon and thyme, and a generous scoop of rice pilaf with caramelized onion and roasted carrots tucked beside it. A small container of green beans sautéed with garlic. Warm cornbread, wrapped in foil, so it stayed soft. A boiled egg. Warm food. The kind that could keep your feet under you even in the middle of a 12-hour shift.

Then you opened the second lunch bag that you pulled out whenever you had an especially high volume of left-overs, and began to fill it. A thermos of hearty lentil stew, a few cheese and spinach empanadas you’d made and frozen last week, a stack of soft tortillas wrapped in cloth to keep warm, and a small container of fresh-cut fruit. You added a tin of shortbread cookies, too. People liked those.

You never asked who needed it. You didn’t have to. You just left it in the staff fridge every morning, labeled simply: “Up for Grabs – Eat.”

 By noon, it was always empty.

You paused before sealing the bags, then reached into the top drawer by the stove and pulled out a handful of black tea packets. Not just a few—seven or eight. You slid them into the side pocket with care, the familiar crinkle of foil against fabric oddly soothing.

Then came the last step: a glance around the apartment, a check of the stovetop knobs, and the soft click of the door behind you.

Everything was where it needed to be. Just like always.

. . .

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital never slept, not really.

You arrived with the sun cresting over the river, a pale smear of gold across the skyline. Even in the early morning, the hospital was alive: stretchers rolling in from Emergency, clipped voices paging overhead, janitors finishing their night rounds, and a group of med students already looking overwhelmed before they even got inside.

You swiped your badge at the side entrance and were immediately hit with the smell of antiseptic and burnt coffee.

For you, the surgical wing was your kingdom.

Bright lights. Cold air. Soft beeps and controlled chaos. You’d been here longer than most. A senior surgical nurse, day shift. You weren’t in it for praise—you weren’t even in it for thanks. You were in it for the discipline, for the order that existed even amid blood and panic. In a world that never stopped breaking, you were one of the ones putting it back together.

Your team knew it, too.

“Hey, boss,” said Fin, a junior nurse in his second year. He looked like a wiry greyhound who’d grown up on steel mills and pick‑up games; he had the reflexes of a cat and the attention span of a bee.  He fell into step beside you with a bounce in his sneakers. “Just got a fresh post-op in Five. Dr. Garcia was already yelling about the chart.”

You gave him a look. “Did you forget to mark the drains again?”

“I swear I didn’t—okay, maybe I did one, but—”

“You get one more maybe today, or I’m taping a checklist to your forehead.”

He saluted dramatically, then broke off in a little jog ahead of you. But before he turned the corner, he spun around, shadow-boxing in the air like some scrappy middleweight on caffeine. “I’ve been working out, by the way.” He flexed one arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a modest bicep. “You’re gonna have to start calling me Big Fin.”

You arched a brow. “I’ll consider it. Right after I get my hearing checked.”

“Brutal,” he called back, grinning as he disappeared into Recovery.

You passed Jules, the surgical scrub nurse, reviewing trays with the precision of a jeweler. “We’re short on curved hemostats,” she muttered without looking up. “Already paged Central Supply twice.”

“I’ll give them a call,” you said, adjusting your clipboard. “They listen when I growl.”

“That’s because they think you could shank them with a suture needle.”

You just smiled.

And then, as always, Margot appeared like clockwork.

She was the charge nurse for the surgical wing, older than you by a few years, and about twice as loud. Silver-streaked curls piled into a bun, sleeves rolled up, clipboard in hand, Margot ran the board like a general and swore like a sailor with a grudge.

“Someone better have coffee for me or blood will be spilled,” she barked as she stepped into the unit, already scanning the whiteboard.

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?” you quipped, handing her a small to-go cup you’d filled back in the break room.

She paused. Narrowed her eyes at you. Then smiled—really smiled. “You always take care of me, you old softie.”

“I’m just trying to prevent a homicide before noon.”

The two of you had worked side by side for almost a decade now. Margot was the only one who knew when your laugh wasn’t real, when your tiredness was more than just a long shift, and when something was bothering you even if you hadn’t said a word. She kept the unit on its feet and your spine straight on the rough days.

And you did the same for her.

“You see the supply tray?” she asked, flipping through her pages.

“Yeah. Jules is about ready to fight someone. I’ll call Central again.”

“Tell ‘em we’re not slicing open anyone with Fisher-Price tweezers,” Margot muttered.

Then there was Tasha, one of the newer float nurses, still finding her rhythm. You made a point to check in on her mid-morning, offering her a granola bar and a steadying word after a rough debridement assist.

Then the surgeons—Dr. Miller and Dr. Garcia.

The day moved with precision. Rounds. Preps. Walk-throughs. Checklists. Blood draws. Verifying scripts. Comforting scared patients with a hand on the shoulder and a warm, quiet voice.

You were good at your job. You didn’t miss much.

So later, when you came back from a break and found your clipboard slightly askew on the nurse’s station, you paused long enough for a single pulse to drum behind your ear. Nobody touched your clipboard—everyone in the surgical wing knew that rule as surely as they knew where the crash cart lived. 

Maybe someone had needed a room number. Maybe it had slipped. You inhaled, nudged the board flush with the counter until the metal lip kissed the laminate, and forced the unease to flatten into habit.

You’d barely slipped your pen back into your chest pocket when the hallway exploded with noise. Fin came tearing around the corner, long legs pumping, one gloved hand slicing the air.

“Teen male, abdominal stab, BP tanking,” he barked, breathless but ready. “Ortho tried Versed, he blew right through it. They’re wheeling him to OR Three.”

You asked, checking the boy's vitals. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen. “Jules on instruments?”

“She’s setting up—missing a couple clamps, but she’ll find ’em.”

“Manny?”

“Grabbing blood.”

“Tasha?”

“Down in pharmacy, checking meds.”

“Good. Let’s move.”

The doors to OR Three burst open just as you reached them. Fluorescent lights bleached the boy’s skin to paper. 

Dr. Miller was already scrubbing, calling for suction. Across from him stood Dr. Garcia, eyes snapping behind her shield. She glanced at the vitals and muttered, “Whoever dosed him with sedatives barely touched the pain.” Miller shot her a look. “Less commentary, Garcia. Let’s save him first.” She fired back, “Then cut faster, sir—the vein’s not going to tie itself.”

Sanitized and ready, you slid into place opposite her, tilting the overhead lamp. Fin fitted an oxygen mask; Manny rushed in with the first bag of blood; Jules appeared at your elbow, tray shining, somehow already stocked with the clamps she’d been missing. Tasha sprinted in last, waving a sheet. “No allergies, no meds except a pain shot!”

Dr. Miller opened the wound and a sheet of bright red flooded the field. Dr. Garcia’s tone dropped to steel. “Big vessel—clamp.” She stretched out her hand. You slapped the clamp into her palm, then lifted the suction hose to clear the view.

Suddenly, the boy’s pressure plummeted; alarms wailed. “More blood." You called. Manny twisted the valve; Fin squeezed the bag. The heart monitor flatlined. Dr. Garcia snapped, “Paddles—now.” Before anyone moved, you had already grabbed the paddles and passed them to Fin. One jolt. The screen flickered, steadied, beeped. Dr. Garcia’s stitches flew; Dr. Miller tied off the last thread, shoulders sagging as the bleeding finally slowed.

What followed was practiced choreography: gauze when asked, retractors nudged, light shifted a hair. When Dr. Miller clipped the final knot he let out a long breath that was half a laugh. “Daylight shifts are never dull,” he sighed.

Dr. Garcia peeled off her gloves with a snap, fogged goggles hiding everything but the warmth in her eyes. “Couldn’t have done it without our guardian angel,” she said, tilting her head toward you. It was half tease, half something softer, and it landed heavier than you expected.

You counted sponges—perfect, as always—then wiped a smear of blood from the boy’s cheek, smoothing a cool cloth across his brow. He’d live. That was enough.

The team rolled him toward recovery; Jules rattled off instructions so crisp the transport nurse only nodded, wide‑eyed. Behind them, the OR lights dimmed, and the sudden hush felt almost holy.

The rest of the shift unwound in a gentler rhythm. 

You rounded on post‑ops, double‑checked Fin’s drainage labels, helped Tasha master a tricky IV start, and caught Manny slipping in a whole-ass Subway when he thought you weren’t looking. Every time you passed Dr. Garcia, she either offered a nod or a salute with her pen, the gesture equal parts respect and camaraderie. 

Evening sunlight slanted gold through the clerestory windows by the time the last chart closed. You ducked into the staff fridge, retrieved your two lunch bags—yours scraped clean but for a few strays crumbs. 

Margot was at the whiteboard, bun unraveling yet posture unbowed. She glanced up as you approached, empty Tupperware clacking in your tote. “Board’s balanced, rooms stocked, staff fed,” she said. “You leaving us to the wolves?”

“Night crew can handle a few cubs,” you replied, shrugging into your jacket.

She eyed the way you fastened the zipper to your chin. “Stopping at your perch first?”

“Ten minutes. Clear the head.”

Margot clicked her pen, lips twitching. “Wind’s vicious tonight. Button that collar or you’ll fly off the roof like Mary Poppins.”

“A spoonful of heparin helps the blood flow,” you dead‑panned. 

Margot’s raspy laugh chased you down the hall while you zipped your jacket to the chin and patted the bulging side pocket that held your small contraband: half a dozen foil envelopes of strong black tea.

Two flights up you eased the rooftop door open. Evening air—cold, river‑raw—rolled across the tar. The skyline glimmered; the last blush of sunset clung to the horizon like a fading bruise.

And there he was, exactly where you’d hoped: Dr. Jack Abbott, fresh from the locker room and on his way into the night shift. He wore his usual charcoal‑black scrubs —pockets already stuffed with trauma shears and a folded set of gloves—plus a worn bomber jacket. Short curls, dark but mostly silver, were still damp from a quick sink‑splash. A dusting of stubble shadowed his jaw, the kind that looked deliberate until you noticed the faint razor burn along his throat. 

Jack never quite smoothed out the edges; he just learned to carry them.

He was screwing the lid onto an empty steel thermos when he spotted you. A crooked, lopsided smile tugged one corner of his mouth—as if he were never entirely sure you’d show up and was always pleasantly surprised when you did.

“Hi,” he said, voice a notch too loud over the wind before he caught himself and dropped it. “Shift treat?”

“Only if you call boiled bean water a treat,” you answered, nodding at the thermos. “Lucky for you, I brought an intervention.”

You pulled four packets of Earl Gray from your jacket pocket and offered them to him. Up close you saw how the overhead flood‑light silvered the gray in his curls and picked out the faint hollows under his eyes.

“What’s this now?” he said, accepting the packets and turning them between roughened fingers.

“Operation Convert the Coffee Addict,” you confirmed. “Side effects include better sleep and a 50 percent reduction in eye‑twitch.”

He huffed a laugh, half embarrassed. “You sure you’re not secretly cardiology? Because you’re going after my heart.”

You arched a brow. “That a complaint?”

“No,” he said quickly, then scrubbed a hand over his stubble—awkward tic when he realized he’d spoken faster than he could think. “I mean—no complaint at all.”

He cleared his throat and stepped back to the parapet, gaze flicking to the river lights.

“Heard about your stab victim,” Jack said, voice pitched just low enough to keep the compliment private. “Your wing turned him around in record time.”

“Dr. Garcia turned him around,” you corrected. “I just kept the stage lights on.”

His smile widened, steadier than before. “Modest again. The residents swear you’re the northern star—nobody gets lost on your watch.”

“Only because I feed them,” you said, lifting the tote. “Nothing inspires devotion like carbohydrates.”

He chuckled, a warm sound that rumbled more than it cracked. “Well, you’ve got my devotion for the tea.” He tucked the foil packets into his breast pocket, giving them a single decisive pat as if confirming an IV line.

“For the record,” you added, “nice work stabilizing the kid before he came up.”

Jack shook his head, curls stirring in the wind. “That was Robby. I’m just here to steal the credit and the glory hours later.”

You smirked. “At least you’re honest.”

“Path of least paperwork,” he said, a faint twinkle in his eyes.

A hush settled, broken only by the distant wail of a siren and the hum of rooftop fans. He rocked once on his heels—not fidgeting, just feeling the wind—then fixed you with a look equal parts grateful and teasing.

“So, tonight I try the tea,” he said. “If the caffeine drop puts me in a coma, you’ll swing by Resus and shock me back.”

“I’ll set the paddles to extra smug,” you promised.

His laugh came easy and full. “Deal.”

The hospital PA crackled below: “Trauma team to bay one, ETA two minutes.” Jack’s shoulders straightened; night‑shift instincts sliding into place.

“That’s my cue.” He lifted the empty thermos in salute. “See you tomorrow—tea in hand.”

“Four‑minute steep,” you reminded, backing toward the door. “Boil it and I’ll know.”

He gave a quick, confident nod—less scout’s honor, more a promise between friends—then turned for the stairs, jacket snapping in the wind. You watched until the door clanged shut behind him, the faint crinkle of tea packets trailing off into the night.

Somewhere below, monitors beeped, lives tilted, and the clipboard sat perfectly square on the counter where you’d left it, but up here there was only wind and the faint scent of river water. You breathed in, held the air until your heartbeat matched the city’s distant pulse, then turned for the stairs, ready to go home, ready to return tomorrow and do it all again.

divider credit

[daisy-01-blog]

"Hello miss (Y/N)" he said to you when you first met "we're new here, and my mom gave this to you since we live side by side" he said softly.

His name is Nanami Kento, the oldest son from the new family who just moved beside you. He's younger than you, you noticed.

You're 35, a month into divorce with your husband of one year.

Nanami is polite, and he likes to visit you-his mom likes to bake so he always comes to your house to give you muffin.

You talked to his mom sometimes, and she's also very sweet and gentle. Just like her son.

It's an usual day, nothing seem to be out of order. He usually visits you to talk.

"I'm 25" he said to you that day, in which you blink.

"Yes dear, so?" you asked, a bit surprised he said that.

"I'm 25 and I'm a man" he mutters "but you didn't see me as one"

Something shifted that day, something small. But it still changed.

He still visit you, but he would nuzzle his face on your chest. And you let him somehow.

He's very pretty, with long eyelashes and pouty lips spewing polite words. And he wants you.

He would nuzzle your tits and pepper kisses around it as you hold your moans.

"We can't-" you would say "your mom-"

"-Is not here" he said cheekily, and it surprised you.

He would rub your pussy-entering your panties and grin at the wetness he finds there.

"You're so pretty miss" he pants, suckling your clothed chest as he fingers your pussy "want you from the first time that I see you"

You shudder as you let him, because he's very pretty.

He pants as he takes off your panties and slowly kiss your pussy, making it out with it as it makes a goopy wet noise.

"So pretty" he would mewl, muffled "just like a virgin" and you moan in pleasure as he slurps your pussy noisily.

You pant as you let go, seeing him grinning.

He would visit the next day, and do the same thing all over again.

Permanent taglist: @sayheysaeyoung

[asmolfolk]

Twisted wonderland with a Grandparent!Reader

ਈՉ࣪﹑Heeyy! Just wanted a quick say in this: This will be a short series and I'll try to go over every dorm [and the NRC staff and special characters if wanted!] with this little idea.﹗ִ❀ ᘏAt first it was going to be tons of angst/comfort. But I decided to just do comfort with some angst in it﹗ִ❀ Some things that you must know before you read this:

This is just an introduction, a bit long but it's to make sure that you understand all the 'prologue changes'.

This will be completely platonic!

You can request more scenarios of 'Grandparent Reader' if you wish!

The next one I'll do is probably 'Parent!Reader', which may include Reader trying to date the students's parents.

Everything was going well in your world. Your life – as short as it was – was complete, you were the ‘concept of a grandparent’ for a lot of people. You owned a little bakery and were being helped by your grandkids, they were always here working and trying their best to make things less hard for you.   Blessings, that’s what they were. You used to joke with your oldest that their children were almost taking your shop for themselves! It was funny, even more funny to see that you actually did leave your bakery shop for them – together with recipes and much more – in your will.  The others [children of your middle and youngest] weren’t that interested ON the bakery shop, they just wanted to help YOU. It always did warm your heart, you were loved... You never knew that someone could be this loved before.  And everything was lost in a blink of an eye.

You weren’t in your bed anymore, in your house – gods, you weren’t even in your kid's house!! It took you quite a while to understand your surroundings, it was all black until you heard some... Strange voice, it was unknown – it worried you deeply until you opened the gate you were in... Only to see a little... Cat? 

“Oh, goodness! What are you doing all alone here, little one?” Your voice is so sweet as you tried to steady yourself, kneeling before the startled cat. 

“HUH? Who you callin’ a little one?! And why are you so... old?” The cat TALKED? Like. Actually talked? Now that you look him closely, it seems that he isn’t a normal cat? What was that?! 

“It happens with all the folks... Though, am I hallucinating or are you an animal that speaks?” 

“I AM THE GREAT GRIM! Not just some pet! Now, give me your... Uniform! Ye!” 

“My uniform? Oh, you wish to work on my bakery? I’m sorry but I couldn’t possible hire such a sweet one to do hard work!” 

“NOT THAT! Your uniform, the one you are wearing right now! You are too old for school ‘yways!” 

“...School?” Slowly getting up and looking around, you managed to notice the big coffins. 

“Well, yes! It could be said that you are too old for this school – but my magnanimity is boundless! There’s no such a thing as an age to learn!” A new voice joins, a... Very strange man with a crow mask, he is smiling as if he is doing a Favour. “And, as it seems, your little familiar is going to be such a great help for you!” 

As he explained everything that you could know, you tried your best to calm Grim while the man would explain every little detail he could to you. Even though, he seemed sketchy, you could feel that he was actually wanting you to feel a bit more comfortable and secure.   Maybe, it was because you were old... Or, as you prefer to think, he is just a nice young man. Once everything was finalized, he was guiding you through the school in a much nicer tone. 

“Well! I’m assured that this whole time spent here – that you were obviously listening to your headmage – was worth it and you have no more questions, right?” He asked with a gracious smile. “I assume you are ready to see which dorm you are going in.” 

“Oh, I’m ready. Though, I am not entirely sure that it would be good for my health to go to Savanaclaw.” 

“Details.” 

As you were guided to the... Uhm, room full of coffins. You saw tons of young men across the room, they seemed ready to go away when Crowley opened the door as soon as one of them said something about ‘him disappearing on the ceremony’. 

“I most certainly did not!” The Headmage said with an almost angry tone. 

“Ah, speak of the devil...” Such a young and small little one you saw! You couldn’t help but wonder how that much sass could fit in that body! 

“If you must know, I was searching for the new student!” He pointed at you, before guiding you towards the mirror. “Poor me, being overly critized by my students when I’m only helping an older one!” 

You didn’t help a lot with the surprise by stepping with difficulty on the platform, you saw a young purple haired fellow running towards you, he linked his arms on yours immediately. 

“Here! Let me help ya!” He immediately said, helping you upstairs. “Those lazy sluggards not even wanting to help ya.” Actually, he didn’t even give time for anyone to try to help. His grandson instincts were fast to act, he not only did immediately notice that you were an elder but that you would need a bit of help with the stairs. 

“You are such a strong young man! Thank you for helping a poor old folk like me.” You said in that sweet grandparent tone that made the boy just grin triumphantly – as if you had just given him a trophy. He didn’t let you go until you were face to face with the mirror. Though, you could hear some whispers about your age, you simply waited for the mirror to say something. 

But, well. We all know how that all went. 

Ramshackle accident. 

Let’s begin with just saying: The thing that most changed was with Epel introduction. He was clung to you like a Coala, he simply did not let you go and was always around you – You, however, did not mind it not even a little bit. He reminded you about your youngest grandkids, always full of energy and ready to duel anyone. 

He was always with his arm linked to yours, guiding you with proud around the school while talking about anything he could. 

And, of course, Grim wasn’t... That bad? He was simply clingier since the beginning. He was stuck to you, always following behind or simply resting in your arm. 

When Crowley – oh, so gracious – tried to give Ramshackle to you were meet with Epel screaming about ‘an old person CAN’T be in such a mess of a place!’. It made the young Epel just ignore his Housewarden calls and immediately go to help you clean around. 

He didn’t let you do anything other than mop the floor and clean windows. Everything else was him and a very unhappy Grim. After everything was cleaned, Epel made sure to help you upstairs. 

“Just so ya know. Morning I’ll come back and help clean more, alr? Don’t forget to call me if anything happens.” 

“Oh... I don’t have a phone.” 

“...I’ll figure something up!” He said before making sure you were okay and going away. 

It was like having your grandkids taking care of you again... And the thought of them poisoned your happiness, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop thinking: “How are they? Are they worried?” You had to push those thoughts before drifting off. 

Oh, and the ghost thing? Well, the whole thing happened but a lot less ‘scary’.  

You have ghost grandkids that are way older than you now, congrats. 

The first years.

Oh, the Adeuce duo. Such a nice young and lively folks. At first, Epel was a bit unsure to let you be around them, especially after the whole fiasco in their first day. However, it was a chance on having more help in making the whole dorm way cleaner for you. 

Well, let’s just say that Deuce was a sweetheart and Ace was... Well, Ace. 

Deuce was immediately apologizing for putting you in danger while Ace was a bit more aloof but was caring too, once you made sure that you actually liked the chaos as it brought a bit more of light to a boredom, they were immediately smitten. Ace was talking about ‘his new cool grandparent’ in less than a week. 

You, more times than you wish you could say, was always cleaning their messes. However, it was... Such a nice thing, to have them around, talking as if you were as young as them. As if you weren’t magicless... I mean, he literally threw a punch for you. 

It didn’t take too long before you meet Jack, such a nice gentlewolf that was always here for you. He helped quite a lot in making sure that things were moved around your dorm, not only that, but he also always managed to get some food and ingredients for you. 

When you meet Ortho, though, he was asked by Epel to give you a phone. And, so, it was done. Not only did he add everyone, he helped you to understand how to exactly use the phone by yourself.  

And then, it came Sebek – a bit too early – he meet you because he KNOWS how age can affect someone and he was already guarding your dorm when you walked out. He respectfully would tell you which places are dangerous to walk into right now and would escort you to avoid trouble. 

The first-years are the first ones to be called by ‘Grandkids’ by you, after all, they are such sweethearts. Always helping, always making sure you are alright.  It was enough to warm anyone’s heart. 

As time passes by, you couldn’t help but think about your relationship with everyone. Not only Ace and Deuce but with the whole Heartslabyul dorm. 

Heartslabyul┆Savanaclaw┆Octavinelle┆Scarabia┆Pomefiore┆Ignihyde┆Diasomnia┆NRC STAFF┆Special Characters.

[queenendless]

♡♥︎ STANDING NEXT TO YOU ♥︎♡

A/n: Yall ... when you meet the guy that voices THE Sung Jinwoo, your admiration and affection becomes a full blown one sided infatuation that leaves you all messed up inside. So writing really helps vent out those entangled emotions. And I know for a fact I'm not the only one that does this so no shaming down below yall pls n thnx.

Pairing: 25 yr old Sung Jinwoo x 27 yr old Fem!Reader

CW: 21+ MATURE CONTENT INVOLVED. Outdoor smut, some degradation, possessiveness, established relationship, and use of Korean terms.

DON'T REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGARIZE, COPY, EDIT MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER REBLOG LIKE AND FOLLOW PLS N THNX.

Sorry for the late post but HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY~!

Nae Sarang — my love

Bogo Sipeun — Miss you

Jagi – baby or sweetie between couples

Sarangkkun — a lover or someone affectionate

Banjjak – other half/significant other

Naui Haneul — my sky/someone who encompasses your world

Naui Bit – my light/clarity and joy

Naui Cheonguk – my heaven/make life blissful

Gijeok – miracle in your life

The dipping weight beside you on the bed stirs you up slightly.

Velvety lips decorating your face helped pull you along further.

The low purring lull of your name in your ear by that oh so familiar voice got your heart aching, racing, seeking solace in that comfort. Enough to where you hummed as your tired eyes opened to the shadows with daylight sneaking in through the gap of your dark curtains, highlighting the pair of amorous light grey gazing intensely at you from above.

“Good morning, nae sarang.”

That encompassing form of Sung Jinwoo melted against your smaller form, submerging you in the faint scent of his earthy smoky cologne ingrained in his clothes. Your hands paw at his back, serving as an anchor to help pull you both closer.

“Bogo sipeun.” You murmur against his addicting lips, feeling him smiling, hearing his deep hum, when his elbows were sinking deep on both sides of your pillow, weaving those lithe fingers through your hair, cradling your noggin as the new tilted angle gave him the chance for his tongue to dip right on in. The creamy taste of coffee filled your mouth, bringing pleased hums at the forefront.

“You're learning well.” He crooned. Your Korean was still a work in progress, yet your cheeks burned deliciously nonetheless, earning you tender pecks to both of them when he finally pulled away. “I made you breakfast.”

He patiently waited for you to sit up enough before he carefully set down the loaded tray from your nightstand to your lap, all your favorites presented pristinely. “I'm supposed to be gift giving today, not the other way around.” You murmured, rubbing your eyes, when his sneaky suckling mouth latched onto your neck, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“I know … but worshipping you is my year long holiday.” He grinned seeing the nice mark he left on your skin. “Now, would you rather I feed you myself? Because we have a long day planned out.”

You grabbed his scarred left hand, nuzzling your cheek along his warm rough palm, smittently smooching all over those permanent burn marks, cradling that weary damaged hand as an extension of your lifeline to the man before you.

His thumb instinctively brushed your bottom lip, when those e/c eyes fluttered up in that entranced sense that spurned his inner beast on. “What do you think, sarangkkun~?”

The many glowing violet eyes of the Shadow army widened from the trembles coming their way as their master growled hungrily against your neck, leaving a possessive bite on your collarbone, you squeezing his scarred hand sending a jolt of painful pleasure through his limb.

“Careful jagi. Come tonight … I'll make sure we both have our fill … I promise you~”

Despite those words full of dark anticipation, you were astounded at how you were able to eat after that. Then again, feeling his burnt hand brushing your skin as it cupped your cheek felt too nice to let go of, your pretty flustered face locked onto his calm, smiling one that wouldn't let up on giving you butterflies, your heart pounding in painful pleasure itself.

After that, freshening up and getting dressed for the day felt like quite the tizzy with the enriching laugh he left you with as he took the emptied tray to wash, still rattling in your eardrums.

A day out in the bustling Korean city awaited you.

Many eyes on you, full of couples and singles mesmerized by the presence of the 10th S ranked hunter in the country walking through the decorated streets, displays of hearts and flowers keeping the theme of the worldwide holiday apparent to all. His arm hugged around your waist with his gloved hand squeezing your hip tightly, face neutral but senses alert in case anyone dares try anything, hence him claiming you for all to see. Your hand overlayed his own, squeezing him gently released his tensed nerves, if only for a reprieve.

However, aside from the usual fan greetings and words of thanks for all his hard work as a hunter protecting their country, it was smooth sailing.

While the norm was chocolate gift giving, you were given a shopping spree. Your attempts at refuting such a generous offer was silenced by Jinwoo's many insistent kisses.

“You're impossible.” Your mumbling recession at just going along with it as you spun about in oh so many new clothes that caught your eyes, fashionable and comfy, as he lounged in the cozy waiting chair with crossed legs, reminding you of the sight of the Monarch posed in his throne, infatuated with the sight of you getting more lovely with every outfit you tried on.

“And you're breathtaking. Remember that.”

“I still can't help but feel deep down that I don't deserve any of this. That you chose me out of everyone else … even someone of your age like Cha Hae-In.” Twiddling with your hands did little to push down the doubts.

Humming deeply, he squeezed your shoulders supportively, startling you right out of your skin. “Age is just a number, though.”

His chin rested atop your head, stubbornness reflected back at you from the body length mirror in the private dressing room, wolfishly grinning.

“You're more than enough for me. You've always been."

Your docile face turned around enough, angling just right to land an appreciative peck on his cheek; your newly bought lipstick decorating his cheek, crinkling as he chuckled.

Anxious awkward nerves rattled you as you two ate out next. The high class restaurant overlooking the buzzing plaza, the late afternoon highlighting the city skyline and beyond. His other, bare hand squeezed your other hand across the table, reminding you you weren't alone.

“Sorry. You went to the trouble of booking this place for us and I'm dampening the mood.”

“Don't be. I know being out and about is a lot for you to take in. If you want, we can go someplace less … grand.”

“No. I want to stay. We have the place to ourselves after all, my gijeok.”

You gasp at seeing him pull something hidden away in his shadow, presenting a bouquet of variety flowers to you with that charming smile of his. “For you, naui bit.”

Accepting the flowers with gratitude, his foot slyly brushing yours had you biting your lip, his silver eyes darkening at the display. Your bashful return of it had you two playing footsie underneath the clothed table, your nerves settling down as you clink your filled glasses in a toast, drinking before settling in for your late lunch meal. And yes, you ordered more than enough to have leftovers for later.

Any and every gaze sent your way from any passerby after was overpowered by the penetrating stare, scent and strength of the strapping man claimed as yours.

The rare chance you had while traversing through the busy market was when Jinwoo was sought out by some kids turned fans of his, able to slip away to buy from a booth selling velvet boxes and bags filled with your intended gift to him from the start.

The curious raised brow look thrown your way when you returned to his side had your insides doing flips, but he stayed silent, his arm returning to pin you right by his side.

However, the moment he led you both back to his parked car and got in with your bags, his very shadow engulfed you both, clinging onto him from impulse at this twist.

The whipping airs of the chilling darkness dissipate as fast as they appeared when you arrived at a new destination.

Whether it was an actual spot in the real world or you were in another reality altogether, you were speechless, getting out of the car to take in the view. The outdoor pool of shimmering waters teeming with such a mana esque aura mesmerized you at first sight. The surrounding flora and fauna were all in cool shades of violets. The full moon rays casting its highlights among the shadows.

“I recently discovered this place during my travels. Figured it'd be a nice final stop for today. Think of it like our own personal mineral bath. The healing properties are quite rejuvenating. Can't do much for this hand, though.” Him flexing said covered limb with gloom overtaking his face at the sheer memory of it.

Being the one to give his hand a reassuring squeeze brought a tint of pink to his cheeks. “Well, I love your hands, scars and all.” Your honest open emotion made the rest of his restraint finally crumble.

His hands enveloped your frame immediately, easily stripping you out of your attire, the merging of blue and purple mana undoing his own apparel for him, as he laid an onslaught right into your welcoming caverns.

Above and below.

Your senses heighten as the waters seeped into your body, bringing forth your desire in such palpable degrees. Tongues clash, sloppy smacking of lips devouring one another, and hands exploring as he leads you two into the sparkling oasis.

He leaned back against the edge of the lake, weaving a handful of your hair through his fingertips all to keep a grip, arrogantly admiring the view of you straddling his lap while making out with his pecs, practically chewing on them, teething on his perked up nipples, dragging his quavering groans and sighs right outta him, pride swelling within at you claiming him as yours. Your tongue scorched down to his six pack before giving them the same special treatment, his firm muscles flexing from how your sweet mouth created goosebumps along his canvas.

Tugging your hair insistently, you get smothered by his all encompassing mouth, easily lifting you up with one arm underneath your thighs just to get you hugging his slim waistline, raising you high, the moon casting you in its lunar blessing, crafting your vulnerable beauty to be Jinwoo's alone to cherish and ravish. The magic infused waters serve as a lubricant, luck working in his favor to have his veiny thickness getting slowly but surely into your already gushing gummy walls.

“Naui Cheonguk~” He moaned in the crook of your neck, greedy hickeys decorating your skin from your neck to your shoulder blades. Scratching his undercut had him rutting more feverishly, devouring your velvety boobs next.

Your wind swept head craned back, trained on the galaxy of stars painting the midnight sky, believing this place to be paradise itself, scorching rapture unraveling your very core brought forth by the marbled crafted adonis thrusting vigorously into your womb from below. “Naui Haneul … all mine.” His hefty pants hit your swollen marked breasts jiggling right in his face before suckling them like the starving animal that he is.

“Your cunt is sheer bliss. You relish being my cocksleeve, don't you? My touch starved whore? Filled to the brim, clenching on tightly, as I stuff up your needy quivering hole. Your horny cries won't let you deny it. Tell me, does your pussy love being on my cock?” Those half lidded eyes looked up at you, his nose nestled in the valley between your mounds, that all consuming gaze of his had you squirting harder along his shaft.

“Mmmh yes~! S – nngh – so m – aaah – so much~!”

“So sexually deprived, so touch starved, that you genuinely questioned if you were worthy to be by my side.” His hand fondled and smacked your rumbling peachy cheeks, leaving a faint handprint along one, thriving off your sharp moans as he fingered you between those cheeks in tune with his spread ravishing your insides upfront. “When these– aah – past few months – mmmh – have been – nngh – utter bliss~” His canine teeth pearly smiled up at you, licking those swollen lips. “I'll never let you go.”

His primal ferocity clashed with his sense of speaking through the electric rush coursing through his mana filled veins; literally popping out along those flexing biceps of his.

“Y/n … my wicked angel … you're mine.” That heavy, gruff tone his voice became, the predatory glare of those glowing blue irises had you clutching unbearably so. Raising you until only his tip stayed within, bringing you back down to take him in full.

“I love you, Jinwoo~! All of you~!” Your watered up eyes spilling trails of hot tears down that flushed face he adored so much had him kissing those tears away, licking away that salty goodness.

“Then come for me, love. ARISE.”

That word, in that deep low resonance, would make anyone bust hard. It reverberated straight to your bundle of nerves, clawing his back deeply, crashing down in blinding euphoria.

The white hot seige of his seed flooded through your gates straight after, his well endowed balls slapping you feverishly, unloading all that he had, his strangled moan cuffed to your breathless shrill cry. Rutting up savagely to chase that high with you, cum encircled his shaft, as streams of your juices spilled down your spasming thighs and his sturdy ones.

Yet one orgasmic rush wouldn't be enough to satiate the second Shadow Monarch, the absence of him through your folds, the rush of hot air giving you whiplash, as he got your upper body sinking in stomach first along the earth like ground, your fanny waving in the air, now filling your asshole to the brim with his coated schlong, the new angle got you mewling madly. The nasty squelching sounds he pounded into you stirred him back to semi erectness.

Clawing at the grass, leaving indents in the ground, arching your back against his soaked chest, his arm hugged your squirming waistline. His scarred hand abusingly rubbed your neglected clit, fisting right into your sensitively pulsing cunt, his other hand grasped your neck to force you to look right at his gorgeous, groaning self.

“I'll spend every waking moment, in this lifetime and the next, until you can feel and think of nothing else but my profound devotion to you, banjjak~” He was so damn close to edging over again.

Your orgasmic yell busted all over his jacked forearm, the trigger to him following suit, pulling right outta you just to witness himself ejaculating all over your backside.

Collapsing carefully and slowly atop you, these heaving bodies took their time to finally catch a breath, his hand releasing your neck to clasp your shoulder, your own face buried in your arms to rest if only in those moments.

His cream covered hand pulled out to your whining dismay. Tilting your head back, you obscenely watch him lewdly licking it clean, drops of semen dotting your drooling face with your tongue sticking out shamelessly. Another sloppy shower of smooches to clean up that breathtaking face of yours.

Igris, Iron, Tank and even Tusk were bashfully averting their eyes the whole time, laying out blankets for you two to sit upon, some to help clean you up, and others to drape yourselves in, before returning to their inky domain.

Helping you both out of the soiled waters, you sat on the already laid out blanket as Jinwoo cleaned you both up gingerly, tossing the soiled cloth aside then wrapped a new clean blanket big enough to cover you both, sharing body heat to battle the cool breeze arriving.

“So,” A mini shadow creature popped out from the side to deliver your bought gift straight to Jinwoo's awaiting hand, slinking back to join its comrades. “How's about sharing this with me, you sneaky little minx~?”

The next half hour was spent in each other’s arms, feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries one at a time, resting your head against his shoulder, taking in the sounds of crickets and cicadas, relaxing in the calm night, exchanging cocoa berry tasting kisses.

“I love you too, Y/n. More than anything. I'm honored to be standing next to you.”

It would be another half hour until you two would dress back up and return to your plane of reality, straight to your shared abode to spend the rest of the night into the following morning conked out in bed.

For now, this is how you spend your Valentine's Day.

Together.

[natsukicookies]

Thinking about poor 16 years old touya who was just a kid on a street at night and no heroes helped him...

What if 20yo!reader who was a small hero saved him and took him home with her and took care of him and him slowly become obsessed with her as 3 years went by bc she was the only one who saved him, stood by him. While the reader is so clueless to his obsession <3

[domm1etae]

My Good Boy

f!reader x yunho

oneshot | mdni

2.8k

Yunho is always eager to please his noona, Y/N

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, subby yunho, dominant reader, pet names, slight begging, little age gap, oral sex, handjob, mommy kink, needy, and moooore...

Yunho stepped out of his architecture class, checking his phone for any messages from his girlfriend, Y/N. Even though they’d been dating for nearly a year, he still felt his heart race every time he thought about her. Y/N wasn’t like anyone he had ever met—she was older, bold, and carried herself with a quiet confidence that Yunho admired. She was in her final year of her literature program, and while they were both busy with their studies, they always made time for each other.

Today, Y/N had texted him that she’d be working on her thesis at her favorite coffee shop, the one tucked away in a quieter part of town. It had become their little spot—a cozy, vintage café with bookshelves lining the walls and the soft sound of jazz playing in the background. He smiled, already excited to see her.

When he arrived, he spotted Y/N in her usual corner, sitting by the window. The light streaming through the large glass panes made her look like she was glowing, and Yunho’s breath caught for a moment. Her signature style was as striking as ever—dyed purple hair falling in soft waves around her face, a loose, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder, and a few silver rings on her fingers as she scribbled in a notebook.

Yunho quietly approached, setting a coffee down in front of her. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Y/N looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile when she saw him. “Hey, babe. You just saved my day—I’ve been staring at these pages for hours, and I’m losing my mind.”

Yunho chuckled as he sat down across from her. "I figured you could use a break. How’s the thesis going?"

Y/N groaned dramatically. “It’s coming along, but I’m starting to feel like I’ll never be done. I’m rewriting this one chapter for the third time, and it’s still not right.”

Yunho admired her dedication, even if he worried that she pushed herself too hard sometimes. “You’re going to nail it, noona. You always do,” he reassured her, gently squeezing her hand across the table.

She gave him a small smile, appreciating his words, but Yunho could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Why don’t we get out of here for a bit?” he suggested. “There’s this new art gallery downtown I’ve been wanting to check out. What do you say? Let’s take a break, just the two of us.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking it over before she grinned. “Alright, deal. But you have to promise to help me with my project afterward.”

Yunho laughed. “Anything for you.”

After quickly packing up her things, they stepped out into the crisp fall air, hand in hand as they walked down the cobblestone streets of the old part of the city. Yunho loved these moments—walking side by side, talking about anything and everything, with no one around to interrupt. Y/N had such a relaxed vibe when they were together, and she brought out a more carefree side of him.

“So, how’s architecture treating you?” Y/N asked as they strolled.

“It’s… a lot,” Yunho admitted with a chuckle. “I’ve been working on this huge project, and I don’t think I’ve slept properly in a week.”

Y/N smiled sympathetically. “Sounds like we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

They made their way to the gallery, a small, intimate space with local artists' work on display. Inside, Yunho took Y/N’s hand and led her through the various exhibits. She was always so thoughtful when it came to art—commenting on little details that Yunho hadn’t even noticed. Her passion for creativity was one of the things that drew him to her in the first place.

At one point, while they were standing in front of a large abstract piece, Yunho turned to her, watching the way her eyes studied the painting. “You know,” he said softly, “sometimes I think you’re the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N’s face flushed at his words, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re so cheesy, Yunho.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “You’re like no one else, Y/N. I’m really lucky.”

Y/N’s teasing expression softened, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispered before leaning in to kiss him softly.

Yunho felt his heart soar as their lips met, the world around them fading away. There was something magical about moments like these—just the two of them, no deadlines or stress to worry about. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his.

“I think I needed that more than I realized,” she said with a small laugh.

Yunho smiled, his hand gently tracing the curve of her jaw. “Then I’m glad I dragged you out of that café.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon at the gallery, completely lost in their own little world. By the time they left, it was already getting dark, and they walked back toward Y/N’s apartment together. The streetlights illuminated their path, casting a warm glow as they walked in comfortable silence.

When they reached her door, Y/N turned to Yunho with a mischievous grin. “You’re staying over, right?”

Yunho’s cheeks turned pink at the suggestion, but he nodded. “If you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” she said, opening the door and pulling him inside.

Once they were in the privacy of her apartment, Y/N dropped her bag on the couch and turned to him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, about that project help you promised…”

Yunho chuckled, his hands sliding around her waist. “I didn’t forget.”

She smirked, leaning in to whisper against his ear. “Good. Because I’ve got a few ideas.”

Yunho’s heart raced as she led him toward her bedroom, her boldness always leaving him breathless. Even though he tried to act cool around her, Y/N’s confidence and forwardness never failed to make him feel shy and flustered, which only seemed to amuse her more.

Once they were inside, Y/N gently pushed Yunho onto the bed, straddling his lap as she leaned down to kiss him again. Her hands roamed over his chest, sending sparks of heat through his body.

“Noona…” Yunho whispered breathlessly, his hands gripping her hips.

“Shh,” she murmured against his lips. “Just relax, babe. Let me take care of you.”

Yunho's breath hitched, eyes wide with anticipation as she slid her hands up his chest. A teasing smile played on Y/N’s lips, her gaze darkening with intent as she leaned back slightly, giving him just enough space to breathe before she whispered, “Stand up. Pants off. Let noona show you how much of a good boy you've been.”

Yunho’s heart pounded in his chest, and he didn’t hesitate for a second. He quickly stood, his hands trembling as he fumbled to unbutton his jeans. Once his pants and boxers slid down to the floor, he kicked them away, his hard length standing at full attention. His cheeks flushed, feeling both exposed and utterly captivated by the way Y/N’s eyes roamed his body.

She let out a breathless laugh, the sight of him so eager making her insides tingle with excitement. “Good boy,” she cooed, leaning forward and running her hand along his thigh before lightly tracing her fingers over his cock. Yunho gasped, biting his lip to stop a moan from escaping, but Y/N didn’t let him hold back for long. Her other hand wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly as she pulled him down into a rough, messy kiss.

Yunho whined into the kiss, his lips moving desperately against hers. His hands fisted the sheets beside them, but Y/N didn’t stop, not even for a moment. “N-noona,” he whimpered, his voice shaky. “I-I can’t hold it. It’s too much…”

Y/N pulled back just enough to meet his teary eyes, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “You don’t have to hold back, baby. Just let go for noona.”

His eyes fluttered closed, her soft voice melting him into submission. She pumped him harder, her thumb teasing over the sensitive head as Yunho gasped and whimpered. “You’ve been such a good boy,” she praised, “and good boys get rewarded, don’t they?”

Yunho nodded frantically, his body trembling with need. "Y-Yes, noona… please—please let me cum… I’m so close…”

“Then cum for me, Yunho,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck as she stroked him faster, her grip firm and unrelenting. “Make a mess for noona.”

It didn’t take long for Yunho to unravel. His body tensed, his breathing quickened, and with a low moan, he spilled over her hand, his hips jerking forward as he came, the intense pleasure leaving him shaking. Y/N watched him intently, her own arousal building as she guided him through his release, her strokes slowing but not stopping until she knew he had nothing left to give.

Once he was spent, Yunho collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. Y/N smiled down at him, wiping her hand on a nearby towel before leaning over to kiss his forehead. "You did so well, babe," she murmured, her fingers brushing through his hair softly. "So perfect for me."

Yunho blushed at her words, still coming down from the high, his body limp and satisfied. "Th-thank you, noona," he mumbled, voice hoarse from the intensity of it all.

But Y/N wasn’t quite finished yet. Her hand moved down between her own legs, teasing herself as she whispered in his ear, "Now it's my turn, puppy. Show me how well you can use that mouth of yours."

Yunho's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded eagerly, his body still buzzing with the desire to please her. He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, ready to give her the same pleasure she had just given him.

Yunho lowered himself between Y/N's legs, his heart racing as he settled into the new position. The scent of her arousal filled his senses, making his mouth water with anticipation. He glanced up at her, a hint of nervousness in his wide eyes, but her encouraging smile was all the reassurance he needed.

“Good boy,” she murmured softly, her fingers running through his hair in gentle strokes. “Now, show me how much you want to make me feel good.”

Yunho leaned in slowly, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh, making her gasp as he got closer. His tongue darted out to trace a line up her folds, tasting her for the first time. Y/N let out a low moan, her hips arching slightly off the bed as her fingers tightened in his hair. That simple reaction spurred him on, the praise from earlier still echoing in his mind as he worked to please her.

“Just like that, baby,” she breathed, her voice laced with pleasure. “Keep going.”

Her approval sent shivers down his spine, and Yunho became bolder, his tongue exploring her eagerly. He teased her entrance, then flicked his tongue over her sensitive clit, drawing a soft gasp from Y/N’s lips. The sound made him growl softly against her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure as her hands tugged harder on his hair, pulling him closer.

“Y-Yunho,” she moaned, her breath hitching as she felt the heat build inside her. He was so eager, so willing to do anything to make her feel good. His mouth worked over her with increasing confidence, alternating between sucking gently on her clit and plunging his tongue inside her wet heat. The combination of his movements had her toes curling in no time.

Yunho glanced up briefly, eyes dark with lust as he watched her reactions closely. He loved the way her face twisted in pleasure, how her thighs trembled around him as she tried to hold herself together. It fueled him to do more, to be better for her.

“Noona, you taste so good,” he groaned, voice thick with desire as he pulled away just for a second. “I want more.”

Y/N moaned at his words, her fingers digging into his scalp as she pushed his head back down. “Then don’t stop, baby,” she commanded breathlessly, her voice needy. “I’m so close… don’t you want to make me cum?”

That was all Yunho needed to hear. He dove back in, his tongue lapping at her feverishly while his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her steady as he brought her closer to the edge. He focused on her clit, flicking it with precision until Y/N’s breathing became erratic, her moans higher-pitched, her body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck—Yunho, I’m gonna—”

Her words dissolved into a loud, broken moan as the pleasure finally crashed over her like a wave. Her hips bucked up against his mouth as her orgasm hit, her body shaking as Yunho continued to work her through it, his mouth never leaving her until he felt her body start to relax beneath him.

When she finally came down, Y/N’s chest was heaving, her entire body limp from the intensity of her release. Yunho pulled back slightly, his lips and chin glistening with her wetness, and he looked up at her with a proud, almost shy smile.

“Did I do good, noona?” he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

Y/N chuckled breathlessly, her eyes heavy with satisfaction as she gazed down at him. “You did amazing, baby,” she whispered, reaching down to cup his face in her hand. “Come here.”

Yunho crawled back up the bed, and as soon as he was close enough, Y/N pulled him into a deep, slow kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, and it only made her kiss him harder, her hands roaming over his bare skin as she pulled him on top of her.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she murmured against his lips, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You still owe me one more round.”

Yunho’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He was still sensitive from the earlier release, but the way Y/N looked at him made his cock twitch in anticipation. “N-noona… I don’t know if I can…”

Y/N smirked, her fingers trailing down his chest until they wrapped around his half-hard cock, stroking it gently. “Oh, you will,” she whispered, her voice a seductive promise. “Trust me, baby. I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Yunho whimpered, already feeling himself harden under her touch. He knew he was in for it, but he couldn’t deny how much he craved it—the way Y/N took control, the way she made him feel both vulnerable and desired all at once. He would do anything for her, and she knew it.

With a teasing grin, Y/N shifted her hips and guided Yunho’s cock to her entrance. She bit her lip, holding his gaze as she whispered, “Now be a good boy and fuck your noona like you mean it.”

Yunho groaned, his resolve crumbling as he pushed into her, feeling her warmth envelope him. It was slow at first, but Y/N wasn’t patient. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go faster, harder, until their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. The bed creaked beneath them, their moans filling the room as they lost themselves in the pleasure of each other.

It didn’t take long for Yunho to feel that familiar tightness building in his gut again, but this time he didn’t hold back. He thrust into her with everything he had, his breath ragged, his hands gripping her hips as she moaned his name over and over.

“Yunho,” she gasped, her nails raking down his back as her own pleasure built again. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum again—don’t stop!”

Yunho gritted his teeth, doing everything he could to hold on for her. He wanted to last, to make sure she came first, but he was so close. “N-noona, I—”

“Cum for me, baby,” she moaned, pulling him down for a kiss. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you.”

That was all Yunho needed to hear. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, spilling his release with a low, guttural moan. Y/N came with him, her body tightening around him as they both reached their peaks together, their moans mixing as they rode out the high.

Finally spent, Yunho collapsed on top of her, their bodies tangled together as they panted, trying to catch their breath. Y/N chuckled softly, running her fingers through his damp hair.

“You’re so perfect,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “My perfect boy.”

Yunho smiled tiredly, his heart swelling at her words. He felt safe, content, and utterly loved. "Only for you, noona," he murmured, closing his eyes as sleep slowly overtook him.

[sinning-23]

Rest Day(Logan x Reader)

Warnings: none, kinda fluffy and sweet

Enjoy~

P.s yes I still have wolverine brainrot

——————————————————————-

Water boils away on the stove and you place your tea bag inside your designated cup. The contrast of the fine china with the metal of the can makes you smile. It’s Sunday, a nice falll afternoon with the sun setting just a bit below the mountains.

And he glows.

His eyes are closed as he sits quietly in his chair, and finally relaxed for once. He knows he’s safe with you, always has been by some whim. It’s had never failed in your 10 years of being a pair. Every time he’s with you…he’s safe.

When you first met, your proximity seeming to bring a sort of relief and…security. Of course he was sceptical at first, thinking you had to have had some kind of gift that gave everyone that effect. That was until he brought it up and realized…it was just him. And of course he was in denial-

Maybe it was 2 months after that? Your first mission together where you’d both just so happened to miss the danger by a second, your intuition pulling both of you away from the scene before anything could happen.

Or was it a year after that? After you and tiptoed around each others feelings and you had finally gotten the courage to knock on his bedroom door, seeking to comfort him after hearing him struggle on the other side. Had it been anyone else he would have pushed them away, anger resting in his chest. But you weren’t anyone else. The minute your knuckles hit the door his heart slows and flutters all at once , trembling hands swinging the door open to invite you in.

No no. It had to have been a few months after that, your bodies pressed close as you stroke the curl of his hair with one hand. The other intertwined with his, stroking the top with your thumb as you hum and sing sweet words and songs to him. The vibrations in your chest bringing him to sleep.

Or a week after that when you’d kissed and he felt quiet. Just quiet. Not a single sound in the world. Just you. Your heart, your hands on his face.

That was besides the point now, time has passed and nothing has changed since then.

And he’s so pretty when he’s somewhat at peace, the worry lines that etched into between his brows have settled. His jaw still works from time to time, a habit of grinding his teeth.

He only moves when you approach. Your set the can beside him, your teacup resting between your fingers as your own chair creaks slightly.

“Thank you.” He hums, leaving the beverage where it’s at, stretching his hand out towards you.

It’s not a big gap, especially when you interlock your pinking with his index finger.

He’s wasn’t talking about the drink.

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (1)

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

masterlist || next || playlist

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

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

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

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

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

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thought for a second before replying.

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

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

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

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

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

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

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiding behind humor was a pastime. 

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

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

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

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

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

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

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

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

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see me?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

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

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

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

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

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

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

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

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

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart. 

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

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

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

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

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

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

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

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

First work then play, I told myself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

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

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like we have company!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hope the concert was nice.”

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

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

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t look very impressed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I put your stuff in your room.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I felt like an asshole.

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

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

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

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him. 

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

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

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

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “See you.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Likewise," I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

[clairewritesfanfics]

No Goggles!Mark Grayson Origin

Pairing: No Goggles!Invincible x Older!Reader

You were older than him by several years, enough that you jokingly once claimed to be a whole generation apart. But your Mark didn’t care about that. He was absolutely smitten. 

He adored how you always seemed to know what to say when he was troubled, and when to not say anything at all. He loved how you were always so patient with him, so understanding of his trauma and struggles and moments of vulnerability. Oh, the way you would hold him so gently–your tenderness the only thing holding him together. You were his safe place to land on. 

Though you knew his affections were genuine, every now and then, you would express insecurity of your age-gap, of your flabs and wrinkles that get more and more difficult to get rid of with each birthday. 

But he simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Your anxiety and fear about your years and looks made no sense to him. In his eyes, you were better than any naïve and over-excitable brat his age. Everyone he’s ever had before you was so annoying and loud and complicated and exhausting. 

Nothing was ever like that with you. 

You were mature, reserved and kind, and gorgeous, so devastatingly perfect that nothing and no one could ever come close. And he loved, loved, loved whenever you praised him. When you would softly cup his cheek, thumb his lips and call him “your good boy.” He was putty in your hands. He would fall to his knees and gladly spend hours worshipping you, uncaring of his own needs.

And he could never be a brat, even when he often fantasized about getting punished by you in the sweetest way possible.

He never ever wanted to disappoint you. That's why, even when he wanted nothing more than to spend his days buried inside you, he would reluctantly kiss you goodbye every morning and work hard to save the world. 

All your love, your attention, your praises and admiration, he wanted them all for himself. He didn’t care about the adulation of the population or the friendships of others, not really, he just kept it around because you wanted him to have a “healthy social circle.” 

He didn’t care about anything else, only pretended because you’d be sad otherwise. You were it for him. Forever and always. 

Until one day, you just decided that he wasn’t it. You were always clear about what you wanted and firm with your boundaries, and he thought he loved that about you, because you made everything so easy for him, but right now he wished you weren’t so straightforward. Right now he wished you were one of those immature girls who’d get all angry and pouty and tell him “everything is fine,” but really they wanted him to coddle and comfort them.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” you said, voice cracking but your were clear.

“I-is it something I did?”

“No, of course not, you’re… you’re perfect, but I…” you paused, thinking deeply about what to say next. You crossed your arms. “I really need to be away from you for a while.”

“Why?”

You closed your eyes.

He fell forward, hands grasping your waist. His puppy eyes were wet with devastation. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For whatever it is I did! I really am, just tell me what I did wrong a-and i promise I'll fix it.”

You reached for his face and he leaned into your touch like a desperate dog. “This is why we need a break.”

His eyes widened with surprise.

You chuckled. “Mark, I know you love me and I love you–” his hands tightened around you “–but I can't help but think that maybe what’s between us is unhealthy.”

You put a finger to his mouth before he could protest. “Let me speak, okay?”

Naturally, he nodded.

You sighed. “Sweetheart, you… haven’t you noticed? You never contradict me.”

He tilted his head but remained quiet.

“You’re always so kind to me, always so patient when I get all moody and temperamental. You never get angry with me. Not once since the day we first met.” At first, it was cute. But you’ve never had a fight for over two years. that was not normal, not in a healthy relationship. He always went along with what you wanted, never seriously voiced a contrarian opinion, never regarded you with anger. He answered your every beck and call. He bought you things–and you liked the little trinkets that he would randomly purchase because they reminded him of you, but you didn’t know how to react when he bought you a whole penthouse when you complained about your rundown apartment. He spent his days off with you, or when you were at work, he would wait for you to come home.

It was suffocating. He didn’t stalk you, you never had proof, but you felt guilty spending time with friends when you knew he would be waiting for you. He never got mad, only grateful when you used his time on him. It was too much. it felt like you had a pet instead of a partner.

You compared him to a puppy more times than you could count, but Mark wasn’t a dog.

He was young. He should be spending more time with his peers and experiencing what life has to offer.

“You shouldn’t spend all your time with an old-timer like me.” You didn’t hate your age, but it felt noticeable when you were with him. You weren’t interested in parties or travelling or adventures, you’d rather spend your time at home. But Mark's unusual attachment to you meant he was stuck in your apartment instead of experimenting and having fun with his friends. “That's why this break will be good… for the both of us.” 

“Do you really want this?” he asked quietly.

Your heart broke at his question. He was so selfless even when you were hurting him. “Just a couple of months apart, and…” and hopefully he will realize he has better options and you can break up properly.

No contact for three months. Mark reluctantly agreed to your conditions, and with one last kiss, left for his apartment, where he would endure three months without seeing you, hearing you, and tasting you.

It was hell. He often woke up in the middle of the night to find himself mid-flight and en route to your place. He was tempted to continue flying, to take a peek, but he made a promise and he’d rather get struck by a meteor than break a promise to you. So he would sullenly return to his own bed, too bare and cold for his liking, and force himself back to sleep.

Your plan for him to become less attached to you backfired horribly. Rather than spend his free days with his “friends,” he would fly around the solar system punching out whatever poor thing was close, letting out tension he would usually release by holding you, or being held by you. Instead of splurging his money on himself, he would go around mall to mall buying anything and everything that he thought you would like, including an especially opulent ring that would look good on your finger. 

Every day that passed without being able to touch you deepened his feelings. This was his idea of foreplay. Once you two got back together in another month, you would realize how serious he was about you, he would double down on his efforts to show you how much you mean to him, and you will never need to have another break from each other again. He’ll make sure of that.

A/N: Surprise, surprise, another reader insert with an emotionally broken man.

Edit: After much review, I have decided to make this part of No Goggles/Lensless!Mark Grayson's origins. He honestly strikes me as someone who would thrive with an older SO.

Part 2

[brokenpieces-72]

Older arctic fox reader, a good friend of Nikolai's, helps the 141 with a mission in Russian territory, and meeting our little wendigo as well.

Do what you want with this.

The reader is male, since I don’t usually do male readers. I’m definitely not imagining this guy looking like the anime KFC guy with fox ears and a bomber jacket…definitely not. Also lets access a different branch of the military with Special Investigations unit.

Fäks

You and Nik go back, and pretty far back. You served together in Russia and when he started working more “freelance” you got him whatever he needed to get whatever he needed. How did you two meet well funny story…he flirted with you. In his defence this was some time ago. Nik wasn't exactly sober either. Your hair was longer then and your body shape was slimmer than most. You’d been called beautiful by more than a few men before they noticed you were male. You started hitting on him back to see if he would pick up on your masculinity, before just asking Nik if he had figured it out yet. Nikolai saying you were very foxy for man is what cemented your relationship.

Nik didn’t tell you everything, but he kept in touch even after you parted ways. When a mission came up, and your commanding officer told you to stand down or to let it go, you reached out to Nik. Off the record wasn't uncommon for you, to the point you'd acquired a few safehouses for your own safety. You contacted Nik to see if you could get some help with your business trip, and he could deliver. When he told you the hybrids he could invite to your vacation home, your tail flicked. A wendigo, a dragon, a werewolf. You had to keep the list a little short but Nik wasn't about to just chauffer.

You stood outside the small base as the chopper landed, a smile on your face, under your scarf. Ice flecks whipped up around you, forcing you to raise your arm to protect your eyes. You didn’t approach until the rotors stopped. The rest shuffled out while Nik wasted no time coming to greet you.

“My brother.” Nik said, clasping your hand and providing a bear hug, which you return with a grin.

“Good to see you again comrade. This must be your friends.” You said, turning your attention to the newcomers.

“Captain.” Nikolai said, inviting Price over. “Meet Fäks. A good friend of mine.”

The dragon hybrid came over and shook your hand. He was bloody big, his horns making it difficult to keep a beanie on his head. You smiled, regardless of being a little intimidated.

“Welcome to Russia captain. It’s a pleasure.” You says.

“Pleasure is mine, Private Fäks.” Price said, nodding. All business this one. You were introduced to each one as friends. If there was a human who could bring hybrids together, it was Nik. Sure any human could arrange a meeting but Nik was special, looking past the hybrid while showing respect to it as well. As the soldiers filed out you noted each one. Gaz came up behind Price, shaking your hand in respect. Another human, Rudy greeted you next before going with Gaz towards the safe house. The final two exited the helicopter. A werewolf with his tail sticking out, saying to call him Soap. Behind him was a smaller soldier, with antlers and rabbit ears, calling herself Spirit. As the wolf and jackelope hurried inside, you took note of how Spirit was tagging along after Soap.

“Recruiting rather young.” You commented. Price nodded, his expression tells you it wasn't exactly his idea.

"Those two are a vision in the field." Price assured you. You looked forward to it.

Once inside and rooms sorted you wandered about, being as good of a host as you could. Nik would be sticking around to assist with extraction for this mission. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see the men with their jackets, scarves and toques off. The next day would be plenty of planning and decision making, figuring out how to break into a facility that was extracting various illegal materials and bi products from hybrids. This was a little personal for you, as you’d nearly had your own tail cut off or someone shave it for some sick mink.

There is a small lounge that could pass as a living room and you see the men have made themselves at home. You smiled reclining in a seat and immediately being asked by the harpy, about how you and Nik met. Nik loudly groaned, and buried his face in his hands, as you leaned forward ready to embarrass the shit out of him. Kyle already had a grin on his face.

“I was minding my own business whe-how old are you?” You said, interrupting yourself when Spirit walked in. She had a book in her hands, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Uh…haven’t looked.” Spirit said. You looked at Nik.

“Not my idea.” Nik said shrugging.

“Apologies malen'kiy. Not used to such a young soldier.” You said. Didn’t mean to startle her.

“Come in Spirit, you’ll want to hear this story.” Gaz called to her. Spirit’s eyes went from wide to bright as she hurried to sit with Kyle. It’s cute how cozy she looked, with Gaz letting her snuggle up. Reminded you of someone else. You needed to focus on what was before you. Mission first, personal stuff later.

“Where was I…right I had a drink. Was enjoying some water, when Nik comes up and sits down like any old stranger.” You continued.

Originally Nik sent you a few files for the mission, since you would be leading it. Turns out he neglected to tell you what the wendigo was supposed to be. You were expecting a lanky humanoid, and when you were planning the mission that image remained.

“Wall here is pretty weak. I can find a hole nearby I’m sure.” You suggested when going over the plans. You looked up at Soap. “Unless a werewolf can?”

“I could do it.” Spirit suggested. “Wait, how much do I need to break it?”

You stood there for a moment, and looked up at the team. None of them said anything. The little jackalope just gave an expectant look. Were you missing something? You decided to take her at her word, but breaking the wall wasn't exactly what you were going for.

“On the other side is a lab. Not sure what’s in it but based on some of the cargo and shipments I’ve seen going in and out there’s a chance of explosives.” You continued.

“Door access might be easier.” Price suggested. Spirit looked a little disappointed.

“My thoughts as well.” You said.

“So breaking in from the outside is a no go?” Kyle asked. Certainly seemed more risky. So far breaking in with what access points you could reach would be more complicated with others but you couldn’t do this mission alone.

“I hate to suggest it, but could we slip in undetected?” Price asked. You considered that but didn’t like the idea.

“It would involve cages, some good acting, and a prayer.” You said. “Nik could drive a vehicle in with us in the back as cargo but the downside is we would need to either be drugged or knocked out. They won’t take “subjects” that are too active, and don’t want anyone knowing their way around in or out of the facility. Every stake out, all I could hear was breathing, no calls or cries. Overheard some drivers talkings about it with the guards.”

“Can we play dead?” Spirit suggested before looking at Soap. “No offence.”

Kyle snickered at Soap’s rolling eyes. You continued, “No, they test to ensure the hybrids are drugged. Guards will enter the truck for inspection before any of them go through.”

The young soldier seemed to shift from foot to foot. You could hear her heart picking up. When Soap put an arm over her shoulders she seemed to relax. The thought of cages made you a little uneasy as well, but it was easiest way.

“I don’t mean to devalue anyone, I have great respect for your work truly, but is bringing someone so young along a good idea?” You asked aloud.

“I’ll be fine.” Spirit said. You could hear her let out a huff, eyes firmly on the map. A strong malen’kiy.

Day before the mission you found yourself in the living space again, with Spirit sitting and drawing in her sketchbook. You had brought a sort of peace offering in the form of a muffin. She accepted it politely.

“Apologies for any offence I may have given you. It was not my intention.” You said. Spirit looked up a friendly expression on her face.

“I wasn’t offended.” Spirit said. You nodded and sat down, eyeing what she was working on. An arctic fox.

“Nik tells me you are a part of a program?” You asked. She nodded but fidgeted a bit. “Bad memories?”

“A bit.” She said, more focused on the sketch. You smiled.

“Do you need me to pose?” You teased. She looked at you smiling and shaking her head.

“I noticed you looking uneasy. While we were briefing.” You asked. When cages were brought up Spirit seemed to shift from foot to foot. Rudy would be a driver, along with Nikolai. You, Spirit, Price and Soap would be in cages and drugged. Gaz would provide overwatch. “If you don’t feel comfortable, you could always go in a cage with someone else, if it makes you feel safe.”

“You’re sure the drugs will be a lower dose?” She asked. You checked and double checked almost every hour, the doses were specific and precise, so they’d wake when they needed to, and wouldn’t be out any longer. You put a hand over your heart looking the young hybrid in the eyes.

“On my honour."

The truck is chilly but cold doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother Soap. Spirit had opted for staying in the same cage as Price who seemed a little chilly. Before the doses were administered, she curled up closer. Spirit insisted on having her poncho. Soap was also adamant on this.

“You have a little comrade captain.” You commented. Price nodded while Spirit gave a proud and smug look.

“Always.” Price said, his wing covering Spirit. You hear a small laugh, and quiet words from Price. Gaz went to each of you, injecting the dose. It would put you all to sleep. When you woke it was go time. You and Soap would be in one part of the lab, while Spirit and Price would be in another. Horns and antlers were valuable, as were scales. Furs had value but only so much. You notice Spirit getting nervous, can hear her breathing becoming unsteady. Price was there to keep her calm.

“You got this milan’kiy.” You told her. The needle goes in, she winced and then leaned back against Price. Price adjusted her to keep her from falling before Nik injected him. Soap was fidgeting in his own box as Rudy put the needle in him next.

Then it was your turn…and you…fall……asleep.

When you awoke you were close by to Soap who was already assessing the cage. He was focused, and ready. There was an extraction team on the way, but getting the other hybrids to safety was top priority. You started to pick the lock when you heard the horrible screech of bending metal. Soap was half shifted.

“That works.” You said and hurried out leading him to some more cages to assess the situation and get some files. Import records, profiles, transactions, whatever you could do to get to the root. You lift blankets on cages to check and see plenty of younger hybrids. The program was about to have a long week. Soap was getting the security system turned off. You were a “late shipment” which meant you had some time. No one would come to assess you for testing or anything like that which made for a perfect opportunity to get as many out as you could.

“How are those cameras?” You asked.

“What cameras?” Soap responded. You gave him a chuckle as he joined you, peeking under a blanket. Another fox hybrid, shivering, and looking newly shaved. Seeing soap, fhe fox cowered. Soap backed off, as you hushed the young kid.

“Не волнуйся. Мы здесь, чтобы помочь вам. Просто держись крепче.” You said. The kid nodded, eyes a little brighter. The blanket goes back down, and you stand up.

“Aye, Fäks. Found some shipments.” Soap called over. You came up to him, seeing the crates with smaller containers. The labels were going to a few high end companies. Disgusting, all of it. There was a barking sound. The two of them turned and saw the white Cadejo. Rudy had returned, which meant the guards wouldn’t be an issue. Soap got to the door and knocked, getting a response from Rudy immediately and letting him in.

"Find everything?" He asked.

"Downloading now." You informed him seeing the loading bar come up. Of course their tech was old and slow.

"Nikolai is on the other end." Rudy mentioned standing next to you, to see the progress himself.

"How is fairing?" You asked. There was a loud bang which told you something wasn't going right.

"Soap, Rudy, stay here." You instructed immediately. If there was one thing you didn't like it was sitting and waiting, and right now there was a chance a good friend of yours was in danger. You don't wait for their response as you leave the room and see a couple guys in lab coats rushing out. You drew a knife from your boot, shanking them both with quick and simple agility. You can hear odd noises and when you get the chance to look inside, you see Spirit's wendigo form, roaring and growling at whatever guards decided to poke her with a stick. Or cattle prod. Clearly they'd taken her out of the cage, intending to do some last minute assessment or maybe to get her antlers off. Price was taking out any guards that tried to go for him while Spirit tried clawing at them. Nik still had a weapon from his disguise, firing from whatever cover he could find from the tables and empty cages.

You don't hesitate to get more primtive, your blade doing only so much when it comes to armoured gear. You claw and bite, yes you have teeth, and you aren't afraid to dive into smaller space to remove anyone wanting to use the element of surprise. Thankfully, the fighting doesn't last long and you don't have too much blood in your mouth.

"Anyone broken?" Price called, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Good here." You said.

"Fine here captain." Nik called, as you gave him a hand up.

Spirit made a cooing sound, shuffling from foot to foot. You approached her and she looked down at you tilting her head. A jackelope wendigo hybrid. Certainly a new one. Seeing the scraps of her clothes, you understand why she wore the poncho. Spirit shifted back to her more human state, retrieving a weapon from one of the guards. Still seemed a little shaken, but ready and at attention.

"Files should be finishing up. We have plenty of hybrids to extract." You said.

"Let get to it." Price said.

Plenty of reports and paperwork to write and sign for this side mission. The hybrids were either put into a program like Spirit's or were waiting for their family to retrieve them. You checked up on Nikolai, and as always he was still holding strong. After completing your last signature for the day, you got up to go find him. Knowing him, he'd likely have a drink, and you could use one.

"Figured you'd need one." Nik said, offering you a poured glass. As always, he'd thought of everything. You took off your jacket, letting it rest on your shoulders as you sat with him at the table. "Long day."

"Indeed." You said taking a long sip. The two of you nursed your glasses.

"How are you?" Nik asked you.

"That's your best pick-up line?" You asked, recalling the night you two had met. Nik laughed. "I'll be fine."

"You see your little one at all these days?" He asked.

"I avoid it." You admitted. Nik shook his head, pouring you another.

"You should see them. Wait a little, but go see them." Nik said. You could never turn him down. Even when you two first met. He was right though. You should go see your little one. Spirit had reminded you of them, and they deserved to have you around even if you didn't think so.

"I will. They're still reading, and I've started doing it too. Plenty to talk about I'm sure." You said. Nik nodded, and you spent the rest of the evening, catching up, inviting the others to join, and remembering the good times.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ synopsis: you help keep pittsburgh trauma orderly—until small, unsettling glitches hint at something ominous unraveling. whether the mystery—or your guarded heart—breaks first is the question that will decide everything.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, obsessive behaviour, medical-talk, violence & blood

chapter one;

chapter two;

chapter three;

chapter four;

chapter five;

chapter six;

chapter seven;

chapter eight;

chapter nine;

chapter ten;

& more to come

divider credit

[rxzilvia]

heyyy idk if you have a 🍒 anon but if not can i please be 🍒 anon?

AND riki with a noona reader (like just a year older) how do we think he'd be around her (both sfw and nsfw if that's okay)

AHHHH OFCCC, welcome 🍒 anon 🫶

That's so cute tho.. I feel like he would LOVE to cuddle with older!reader but still trinna act tonight while having his hair braided and twireled while laying on older!readers chest, and I also feel like older!reader would often tease him and he would get flustered asf but try to hide it, tease her back and they end up having a play fight, also I think he would loveeeee to make out with older!reader which will end up in her having some hickeys on her neck while Riki lays on top of her just.. making out with her nipple, feel like that'll be so damn hot.. you wouldn't even understand, he is kissing her tits and sucking on her nipple while she caresses his hair and tells him how good he is doing, and after they just cuddle and he burries hsi head in her neck... 🥺🥺

[crusty-chronicles]

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader X Gon/Killua)

Ch 18: For Whom The Bell Tolls: It Tolls For Thee

Synopsis: And then everything just fell apart.

Trigger warning: Extreme Violence

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

"You worked with the phantom troupe!!!”

You quickly covered Gon’s mouth with your hand. Looking around to see if anyone besides the two boys had heard.

“Shhh! Not so loud! And kinda.”

Ever since you'd first opened up, they wanted know everything. Down to the last detail. Of course there were parts of your childhood you'd never really be ready to discuss. But you could share the smaller things. You could talk about the games you'd play, the types of people who were in your clan, the missions you'd go on.

It was..nice. Memories you thought you'd never look back on fondly. You thought you'd never get a chance to reminisce like this. It was also the least you could do to take their minds off of things for a while. 

For the inevitable fight. 

Currently, everyone on the extermination team was heading towards East Gorteau. You and the boys included. So for however long this train ride lasted, you'd make the most of it.

“It was a way of testing me. See how well I'd get along with others given my track record. The only rule was that I couldn't talk to them.”

Oh yes. How could you forget the many lectures before you left? Ones that included your banishment if you were to fail. Though realistically, you probably would have been killed instead. 

You noticed the boys’ curious stares. You figured their friend Kurapika would have filled them in. Maybe he didn't know as much as you did. Albeit you didn't really have a choice, but still.

“It was for good reason. I heard the leader takes people's abilities. In hindsight it makes sense. He kept asking me questions.” You explained.

‘And what can you do little one?’

‘Is that your ability? How does it work?’

It was so painfully obvious looking back. They probably thought you'd be easy since you were a kid. But you were nothing if not true to your word. So you'd said absolutely nothing.

“Is that where you got the idea from?” Killua asked in reference to your new ability.

“Nah. Mines more of a substitution. I don't need to know anything about the person to take theirs.”

It was easier to toss away half your nen into the puppets you conjured. The condition was simpler. So long as you could switch last minute for a direct hit, you'd be able to mimic what they did. 

“That makes it a bigger gamble.” Gon said with a small frown. Remembering what Kite had said about his own ability. How chance made it stronger.

“C’mon. When has my speed ever failed me?” You tried to reassure.

“I guess. But just be careful.”

He'd been more clingy towards you. More protective. They both were. But the way Gon went about it felt more intense. He hardly let you go outside by yourself. Sticking stubbornly by your side. And he'd started enforcing a bedtime on you. Using those damn puppy eyes every time you refused. You felt like a fool having a kid parent you. Although the circles under your eyes did lessen.

But you reminded yourself he was just scared. He didn't want to lose anybody else. A strong desire to keep you safe after what happened with Kite. A mentality so similar to yours that you just couldn't get after him for it. If clinging onto you was what kept that dark aura at bay, then you’d just have to suck it up.

“I'm the one who's supposed to be telling you that. You're ten times as reckless.” You pointed out.

He pouted up at you, mouth opening for a rebuttal before you cut him off.

“And I better not catch you saying it's okay when you get hurt. Got it?”

He deflated. Wanting to add something but knowing you'd shut him down again. Luckily Killua was there to back him up. The fact that there were two of them always being used against you.

“But it's okay when you get hurt?” He questioned.

You scrambled for an answer. It was unfair how they ganged up on you sometimes. 

“None of us should be getting hurt if we can help it.” You settled on.

They seemed satisfied with your response, temporarily dropping the subject. It was only a matter of time before Gon perked up once more.

“Hey. Could you teach us that game you were talking about earlier?” He asked.

“I don't know. You've gotta have pretty sharp eyes to play.” You teased.

“Not too sharp considering you've got bags puffing up yours.” Killua joked.

“Hey!”

You dealt out the box of cards they'd brought. Using the opportunity to check in on them. Gon's aura was calm. Eerily so. You were worried the murkiness of his aura would rise to the surface any second. That it would consume him. You had a bad feeling about it. 

Killua’s was nervous, but determined. You'd never know he was tense by just looking at him, but his aura was plain as day. You hated to admit it, but his was the normal reaction you were expecting from both.

You briefly glanced over to the left. The men in front of you were apprehensive. About who, you couldn't really tell. The boys for both being ready? Not being strong enough? Or you being mentally unstable? Cracking under pressure because of a little blood? You'd all just have to wait and see.

You always hated the waiting game.

At least Knuckle and Shoot weren't scared of you anymore. Thanks to Morel putting in a good word for you. You’d almost say you enjoyed that old man’s company. It was nice to talk about everything for a change. Talk without fear of being judged. He didn't spill the secret of your identity to the rest, and you were immensely grateful. 

If things ended up working out after all, maybe you'd take him up on his offer to get some counseling. God knows you needed it after everything you've been through. For now, you would relish in the few hours you still had with your boys.

—---------------------------

You'd reached the city within two hours, stopping at a restaurant to stock up on food. It just so happened that a broadcast was playing. One that stated the ruler wanted everyone in Peijing to make their way to the palace. You didn't have a good feeling about it.

All those people in one place…it left plenty of room for disaster. Morel only confirmed your suspicions.

“Colt has a theory. He believes that the celebration will be used to sort the population.”

What was it that damn cat had called you? A Rare? The chimera ants seemed to be obsessed with those who possessed nen. They would most likely be eaten by the king or worse. You had a pretty good idea of what ‘worse’ was after seeing the state Kite was in. 

You didn't think ten days would be enough to save all those people. And unfortunately for them, they weren't a top priority. Everyone's focus would be on the king and his lackeys.  

There was also the issue of Netero’s whereabouts. He'd gone off on his own in East Gorteau without any backup. Telling Knov if he didn't respond today, he was most likely dead. Now while you weren't fond of the old man, you didn't want him dead. But knowing him, he was perfectly fine out there.

Ping

Right on schedule. Knov read the text on his phone before showing everyone else. His plan was to lure the royal guards away from the king starting at midnight. Great. Just great. Let your kids deal with one of those monsters. Though you knew they'd made enough progress to keep up. Netero made sure to include the ‘satellite ears’ comment from Morel as well.

“That old bastard scares the crap out of me.” He mumbled.

“Yeah? Well he irritates the hell out of me. Damn geezer always has something up his sleeve.” You added.

You beamed as the waiter served you a slice of cake. The duo next to trying to stifle their laughter at your reaction. The rest of the men at the table, however, eyed the tall pile of sweets on your plate with concern.

“That much can't be good for you.” Knuckle said, watching you scarf down another sweet.

You looked up for a brief moment. 

“Mind your business.” 

“Okay then.” He put his hands up in defense.

The hard ass who made a deal of being guarded, eating like a little kid with no dietary restrictions. It was baffling. Downing apple juice after apple juice. Cookie after cookie.

“Remember what we said. At least one real piece of food.” Gon scolded.

Giving out a small grumble, you took a bite out of your sandwich before continuing on.

—---------------------------------

All you could do was wait. You hated it. The rapid beating of your heart in anticipation. Bated breath as the seconds ticked down. Any moment now, Gon’s nen would return to him. He had done surprisingly well during training. The question now was how well he'd apply what he learned.

You could feel it, the exact moment the curse had been lifted. All at once his nen had surged through him. The little cat hovering over his shoulder was finally gone. He looked down at himself to confirm the aura around him.

“Well alright. It looks like you can use nen again. Go on, try it out.” Knuckle encouraged him.

Before he could try anything, Morel called out to him.

“Gon…”

The boy in green gave his full attention.

“Sorry, but I'm not convinced we should keep you around.”

A small feeling of protectiveness came over you. They make these kids train like hell only to go back on their word? You didn't think so. Although you hadn't wanted them here in the first place. But it was too late to turn back now.

“Show me your resolve,” He continued on, discarding his shirt to prepare for an attack.

“Pretend I'm the enemy who did all that to Kite.”

You could feel Gon’s aura shift into something darker. He really shouldn't have said that. The dark murkiness you've been trying to help keep at bay was slowly rising to the surface.

“If your attack isn't powerful enough, I'll call for a replacement hunter.” Morel was only adding fuel to the fire.

“A real attack?” Gon questioned.

You didn't have a good feeling about this. Kite was a sensitive subject. To use that as a means to provoke Gon… You knew damn well that kid could do damage just fine without nen. You didn't know what he was capable of with it. And it worried you. For his sake more than his opponent’s.

“Yes dammit! Give me everything you've got or you're off the team.” 

A steady anger, and then it was gone. Once again Gon's aura had been eerily calm. Approaching Morel slowly before responding.

“Got it.”

He stood still for a moment, then all at once a feeling of bloodlust consumed him. The intent to kill evident as the aura built in his fist. From the others, you could sense their shock. Their fear. You were in a similar boat.

For a split second, you were afraid. Trembling at the force of his power. For a second, you were reminded of him. The onslaught of ren that poured out. The malice. 

“Show me rock!”

It felt like you couldn't breathe. Killua, taking notice of your panicked state, went to calm down Gon. He was overdoing it, especially if it was scaring you. So he put a hand on Gon’s shoulder. The aura in his fist disappearing almost instantly.

“Gon, that's enough.”

You could breathe again. That was exactly what you were worried about. He was just a kid. You didn't want him to do something he'd regret. To have blood on his hands at such a young age. But there was only so much you could do.

“Am I right, old man?” Killua asked Morel.

The older man took a few deep breaths. Trying to calm the racing of his own heart. If that was Gon’s raw strength, there was no telling what he could do with your training. Good. They really needed an ace in their hole.

“...Yeah ..” He answered at last.

Gon seemed to snap out of the daze he was in. Jumping up in shock with his own actions. He turned around and offered Killua a ‘thanks’ for stopping him. He turned back to Morel and clasped his hands together in an apology.

“Sorry Mr. Morel! I really was just about to kill you!”

It felt like all the air in your body escaped from your lungs. That wasn't right. But Morel just laughed him off.

“You got me real good there kid!”

It felt all too similar to the way you grew up. Being praised for having no limits. You couldn't have been the only one who was worried. The only one who was scared he'd cross a line he couldn't come back from. You felt like you were going insane. 

Gon looked back over at you expecting your usual praise. Instead he was met with your somber expression. It was too close to the way you'd looked the last time you were in the NGL. He wonders if he scared you. The thought makes him feel icky inside.

He approaches you and hugs you as tight as he can. It's the only thing he can think to do. Whether it's to reassure him or you, he can't tell. 

“I didn't mean to. I know I'm not supposed to get that worked up. Not yet at least. I'm sorry.”

It takes you a second to respond. Trying to collect your thoughts after the intensity of that moment. Of what was surely to come.

“You're fine. Just, don't get too carried away.” You reassured. 

He relaxes at the feeling of you hugging him back.

But you didn't believe the words tumbling out of your mouth.

—---------------------------------

It wasn't hard for the three of you to infiltrate East Gorteau. In fact, it was almost too easy. Still, none of you could risk being caught. It didn't help there were so many people on the lookout for intruders.

You continued on to the meeting point, listening as Killua explained the situation to Gon. How the people here were just itching to rat each other out for some money.

“My older brother told me everything, and he probably heard it from grandpa.”

Killua didn't talk about his family often, and you couldn't blame him. But he seemed to respect his Grandfather. He spoke about him with something just shy of fondness. You were glad he had some family he could rely on. 

You stopped short near the ledge of a cliff. The three of you ducking down quickly.

“A town?” Gon questioned.

“Yeah a tiny one.” Killua confirmed.

You used your eyes to focus on the nearest homes. Empty. You used your en to scan for people next. Nothing. The town was completely abandoned.

“So what now?” Gon looked between you and Killua for a plan.

“We sneak in.” 

“No need. Everyone's gone.” You informed.

They knew better than to question your assessment. Your eyes were never wrong. So it was on to the next step of the plan: finding out just what the hell happened. 

“Stay here then. We'll investigate. You don't need to see anything you don't have to.” Killua instructed.

You gave a small nod. Freaking out over potential corpses was the last thing you needed. If you could stall seeing anything too gruesome, you'd have a better chance during the big fight. Or any fight for that matter.

You watched as the two of them disappeared into the town. Tracking their auras as they went. Gon peeked his head out and gestured for you to come over. You took cautious steps towards them. Knowing your luck you'd probably slip. 

“They've already begun sorting. Most of the people were already buried, and not very deep either. It was a good thing you hung back.” Killua explained.

Good to know you're original ten days was just wishful thinking. You couldn't help but feel bad for these people. No technology and no way to know what was going on in their country.

“They can't even call for help.” You said softly. 

“It's not all bad news,” Killua tried to comfort.

“If my theory is correct, it'll be easy to stop them. We just cause a commotion and the selection will totally stop.”

“In theory it'll be easy. But we have to be prepared for anything.” You warned.

Like counter measures for said commotions. If Pitou could control people, chances are the leader was under control too. His word was law here. There'd be no resistance if he suggested something under the ants' influence.

“Yeah but considering the amount of people the ants have to sort, there's no way they sent nen users to do it. It's most likely Pitou's ability. And if that's the case, this'll all be a sitch.” Killua explained.

“We just have to pop up, take out whoever's being controlled, and cause a panic. And after that. We'll encourage the people who escaped to go off and check on other nearby towns.”

It was a decent plan. The only issue was…Right as you were thinking it, the small assassin already had it covered.

“The problem is they'll detect us quickly. Once we make our move, they'll know. If we wanna go through with the old man’s plan, we should keep as low a profile as we possibly can.” 

You'd almost forgotten he was used to be stealthy. That he was in his element here in the dark and unsuspecting.

“It's your call.” He addressed you and Gon.

The boy in green agreeing almost immediately. Determination radiating off him. 

“Let's do it. If the selection has already begun, we can't just simply ignore it.”

The looked up at you for your answer. A damn shame how much you've changed in just one year. If this was still when you were on Greed Island, you would've told them to stick to the mission at hand. Lives at stake be damned. But you were different now. Softer. And the thoughts of self preservation you were used to having weren't present. Instead was the rational that you couldn't exactly let people die.

“If we go through with this, we've gotta be careful.” You responded at last.

“Alright, let's go!” Killua instructed before stopping in his tracks. He took a breath before facing you and Gon.

“But I'm gonna do it alone. You two stay hidden.”

“Stay hidden!!? But wouldn't it be better if we-” Gon started, but Killua had cut him off.

“Don't forget our primary mission. We have to take Pitou down. That should be your focus.” It had come out more defensive than he wanted. He swore he could feel your eyes focus in on him as the words left his mouth.

“You let me handle everything else, alright? I'll stir things up,” he said softer.

“And uh no offense, but this'll be a lot easier to do alone.”

“Like hell you'll do this alone!” You argued.

The last thing you wanted was to split up. It made it easier for the enemies to pick off one by one. Yet Killua wasn't budging on the subject. Resolve strong in his eyes when he spoke.

“Look I know you're used to doing this, but I'm sure there's more villages like the first one. The moment you freak out is the moment we lose a fighter. Maybe if you weren't…” He stopped himself, trying to phrase what he was gonna say right.

If you weren't so traumatized by blood, you'd be more useful. He'd never say something like that to you again. Or, he'd try his damn best not to.

“If things were different you'd be able to help me fully. But you're our best bet at scouting and Gon’s our strongest fighter. So… just sit this one out. The both of you.” 

You could sense his worry. It made you faulter for a second.

“Yeah, I get it.” Gon said, knowing you and him would just get in Killua’s way. 

“Do you?” The small assassin questioned.

“Huh?” He did a double take at his best friend's words.

“Do you really think you get it?”

“Killua?”

“Then promise me something!” It was a plea. Looking between you and Gon quickly.

“Both of you! Don't make a move! Even if people are killed right in front of you! Promise me!”

He remembered the way you two had reacted at the factory. You'd both lunged forward when those people were killed. Only being stopped by Kite’s quick thinking. He didn't want the same thing happening again. 

You could sense his panic rise. A desperation to keep you two safe at all costs. He was almost begging for you two not to do anything. What the hell was the association putting these kids through? What would they go through before the end of the ten days?

Gon didn't answer. You didn't think he could. As much as he loved Killua, he had his morals. He was a stubborn kid who wouldn't go back on them either. So you answered instead. You could abide by Killua’s conditions if he could abide by yours.

“Sure I'll promise you. As long as you promise me you'll come back no matter what. If there's an enemy stronger than you, you'll run.” 

It was like you were in a standoff. His resolve waivered in the presence of yours. He was tired of running away from fights, and you knew that. Then there was the matter of him coming back. He didn't know what to expect out there. He couldn't promise you what he couldn't guarantee. And he couldn't force you and Gon to do the same. 

His resolve crumbled, giving in to yours. 

“I'll text you okay? Our cell phones should still work in the area.” He tried to diffuse, but you wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.

“You can't just change the subject.”

There was a small amount of guilt radiating off him. But there was still the worry from earlier. 

“I know. I'm Sorry. Don't worry about it. I'm just a little on edge.” He explained.

The mission was already taking its toll on both boys. They shouldn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders at such a young age. You'd curse the association to your dying breath. When this was over, you'd all need some counseling. 

You offered up what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It's okay to be scared and worried. I know I am. But we help each other. It's the only way we can get through this. You know that right?”

You could feel him start to relax, steadily gaining back his resolve.

“I know.” He responded.

Gon put his hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“If anything goes wrong, we'll be there to help you.” He added. 

It felt like Killua was engulfed in warmth. Like you all weren't about to march to your potential deaths. It was why he was so scared of losing you both. But he had to have faith in your abilities. Trust that you could get the job done and make it back. 

“Right. I've got your backs too!”

The three of you continued to walk for a while, but something felt off. It felt like something was watching you. The unmistakable sensation of eyes on your back. Then for a split second, you sensed a presence.

Someone was following you. The aura wasn't malicious from what you could tell. Just cautious. Like they were scoping you out. The presence would appear and disappear at one minute intervals. It was probably some sort of nen ability. 

You didn't want to leave the boys by themselves, but you couldn't risk either of them getting hurt right now. You had to be smart about this. 

“Hey, you two go on ahead.” You called out.

“Is something wrong?” Gon asked.

You made sure to keep talking while you signed slowly.

‘Enemy behind.’

“I just need to check something out. It won't take me long.”

The duo nodded in understanding. Never had you been prouder to see them sign ‘safe.’ Slow and meticulous, but the word all the same. You were glad you were able to teach them something useful. 

They took off without you, leaving you to deal with who was following. He'd show himself every minute. All you had to do was wait him out.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

You summoned a strand of nen and shot it straight behind you. There was a noise of surprise as it wrapped completely around the enemy. You tugged them close to you, turning around to face your stalker.

“You know I'm too fond of being followed.”

Your tone was cold as you stared down the chameleon chimera ant. He shook in your presence. Eyes wide at the fact you'd caught him. He'd wanted to continue following one of the boys. This was not good.

“You better have a damn good reason or you're dead.”

He tried to formulate a sentence. Tried to speak, but your resolve was suffocating. Your eyes looked at him like he was nothing. All that came out of his mouth was-

“How did you-!”

But you'd cut him off by tightening your nen around his neck.

“The next words out of your mouth better be an answer. I don't have time for games.”

He panicked, blurting out the first thing he could think of to get him out of trouble.

“I want to defeat the king!”

Your intimidating expression changing into one of confusion.

“What?”

He could feel your nen weaken around him. That was a good sign. He continued to talk, believing more in his chances of convincing you.

“He's a monster. He killed and ate his own men when he was born. He needs to be stopped.” Meleleron explained.

“I thought I'd watch the three of you. See if you were strong enough for the task before I asked for help. I wasn't trying to attack you.”

Your eyes scanned him for any deceit. There was none. All you could sense was determination and fear. Scared of you, yet still wanting to complete his goal. You let him go, releasing your nen.

“Okay.”

“Okay!?! Just like that? You're not gonna interrogate me?” He pushed, unbelieving it was that easy.

“I can see when someone's lying to me. Don't worry, I'd know if you were trying to lure me into a trap.”

It was a thinly veiled threat. One that promised his death if he betrayed you. He'd take it. If you could see when he was being genuine, it only worked in his favor.

“Okay. Where to begin…”

He explained to the situation at hand. How his father figure was eaten by the king. How few ants stayed by the king’s side while the rest left to create their own castles. His plan for catching him off guard. Using his ability to become invisible before attacking. How he needed someone strong enough to carry out the plan. 

“Your best bet is Gon. He's most likely to listen to you. Killua would kill you on the spot.” You said.

“Why can't you help me? You're fast. We'd be able to take the king completely off guard.”

You shook your head. Despite how it looked like, you knew you weren't the best person for the job. Call it a hunch.

“I'm not a fighter. And I've got a personal fight I need to be ready for. I also choke up. Can't stand the sight of blood. Gon’s your best bet. I'm sure he's stronger than me now anyways.”

And Killua was faster. They'd done well in their respective categories. You just hoped it'd be enough. You looked Meleoron head on. 

“Test him if you want…but if you go too far I'll make you suffer.” You warned.

You cared about those boys. It was easy for him to see. As long as you were vouching for the boy in green, he'd take up the offer, and he'd do his damn best not to rough him up too much.

“Right. I'll get going. Thank you for trusting me.”

He took off without a second glance. You were once again on your own. You decided to try and make your way towards the palace. If nothing else, you could take out a few of Pitou's puppets. 

You set a steady pace. Slowing your heart rate little by little. If the ants sensed you now, you'd come off as nothing more than a small animal. They wouldn't recognize you as human. For all the shit your clan put you through, they taught you some pretty helpful tricks. 

Things seemed to be going well before you sensed it. Another presence following you. They weren't concealing themselves either. In fact, they were right above you. You looked up and we're met with a familiar ant. The same one that tried to ambush you the night everything went to shit.

It seemed to recognize you too. Owlish eyes widening before it tried to fly away. So much for going undetected. You gave chase, following directly under it.

“I'm not gonna let you get away!” You shouted, preparing to restrain it.

Right as you were about to summon your nen, a fist made harsh contact on your face. You skidded to the side from the force.

You'd been so distracted, you didn't sense the other ant. You'd fallen for that damn owl’s trap. You braced your legs, looking up at your assailant. A cheetah ant. It beamed at you, sharp teeth on full display.

“I was looking for a meal. Thank you for volunteering!” 

You were really starting to hate cats. You watched the owl ant make its escape. It was most likely gathering information on everybody's abilities. How you all fought. He was a problem. You didn't have time to deal with this new ant.

Judging by his cocky aura, he wouldn't be much of a challenge anyways. He was weak. The only reason he got a hit on you was because you weren't paying attention. 

“You're a Rare, aren't you? This'll be so much fun! Try not to die too early, okay?”

You dodged as he went to strike again, claws fully outstretched. He glared at you. It was then you noticed the small being floating by his side. That was Knuckle’s ability. So this was the ant that got away? You could see why he'd give the others trouble.

But he wouldn't be able to beat you.

“Lucky guess, but you won't be able to dodge my next attack. You humans have got nothing on my speed!”

He rushed towards you once more. Right before he could make contact, you grabbed his wrist. A cruel grin on your face.

“Fast?” You questioned.

He tried to pull back, but your grip was unrelenting. 

“Let go of me!”

He used his free hand to try and slash your face. You caught it too, applying pressure to his wrist. He caught your eyes and froze. You almost looked amused. It made him feel something he'd never felt before. Fear. 

You looked at Cheetu like you knew something he didn't. You weren't afraid of dying. No… You didn't think he could kill you. And then you spoke. Something in your voice had a shiver running down his spine.

“You're so pathetic I might just laugh. Oh you poor creature. You don't even know what speed is. Here, let me show you!”

The grip on his wrist vanished, as did you. His eyes unable to track where you went. He could smell it on you now. The blood imbedded in your scent. You were like them. A monster like the royal guards. 

He shook the thought from his head. A strong Rare? Yeah right. You were nothing compared to him. A slow weakling. He had no reason to be so shaken up by you. It was just an empty threat made to make him lose his cool. He'd kill you in no time.

“Henry, attack!”

It happened so suddenly. One minute he was standing, about to track your scent and put an end to you. The next, his head was rolling on the ground. On his shoulders was a small jester marionette. Its hand morphed into a blade.

Your shoes came into his vision. His eyes trailed up to meet yours in disbelief.

“It can't be! What the hell are you!?!” He shouted.

You couldn't have been that fast. You were a human! 

“Someone who doesn't have time for your insolence. I'm done wasting time on you,” you answered.

You snapped your fingers, signaling for your puppet to finish the job. You looked away as it jumped up, using as much force as possible to slam into the ant’s skull. You could feel the blood splatter onto your clothes. You thought you would have grown used to the sight of blue blood. 

You were wrong. 

Shaking as the warmth seeped into your clothes. The feeling of vile scratching at your throat. You shook your head, preparing to make your way to the meeting point once more.

When you got there, you waited for Knov to open up the portal. You fell into the small room, still trembling from earlier. Everyone was here except Gon and Killua. Your heart beat even faster in your chest.

“You okay?” Morel asked, noticing your dazed state.

“Change of clothes. Now.” You ordered.

You don't remember who tossed you your bag of clothes, but you were grateful all the same. Throwing your bloodied clothes the furthest you could from you as you changed. You hugged yourself to try and calm down. Taking in shaky breaths.

There was no blood on you, and still you felt dirty. You hated being so weak in front of others. But all you could think about was your boys. Killua running from town to town and Gon doing who knows what out there.

“You good kid?” Morel asked once more.

You nodded your head slowly.

“I'll be fine. I just need a minute. I managed to get rid of the ant Knuckle fought.” You informed.

“You got rid of Cheetu? That's awesome! Thanks a lot!” Knuckle said, patting you on the back.

“Mhm.”

You flinched slightly at the gesture, which was immediately picked up by the older man in the room. 

“Give them some space for a while.” He instructed Knuckle before addressing you.

“We still have plenty of time before the selection. You can recoup for a while.”

You gave a small nod. You just hoped your boys were okay.

—---------------------------------

Gon stared down the chameleon ant before him. Its hands were raised in defense as it spoke.

“I've been watching you for a while now. I didn't plan on showing myself so soon, but things changed. Safe to say, you surpassed my expectations.” He explained.

Gon was about to let his guard down when he remembers something. You said somebody was following the three of you. And you'd gone to check it out. This thing was capable of concealing its presence. 

It was the same ant.

He released an angry ten in an instant. Summoning as much nen as he could into his fist.

“What did you do to Y/n!”

Meleoron couldn't help but freeze. Twice now his life had been threatened. And you'd said this kid would be more likely to hear him out. Look how that was turning out.

“Nothing! I swear!” He pleaded. 

Gon glared at him, unbelieving that he hadn't done something to you.

“If you hurt them, I'll kill you!”

He was more quick to aggression here. More on edge than he'd ever been. Especially when it concerned you and Killua. Right as he was about to strike, the ant blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“We're friends! They caught me following them, and I explained myself. They gave me the go ahead to ask for your help. If you think I could take them in a fight, you're severely overstimulating my abilities!”

All at once Gon’s aura dissipated. His guard was still up, but he was less hostile.

“You promise they're fine?” He asked.

“Swear on my life. You can call them.”

He relaxed completely at the confirmation.

“I believe you.”

“Just like that!?!?” The ant exclaimed, once again caught by surprise at how easy it was to convince one of you.

Now that Gon was thinking about it, he may have overreacted. You weren't weak. And you were quick enough to get out of any trouble. You were fine, he was sure of it. 

“Well yeah. Y/n would never be beaten by you. And if you did hurt them…Then I won't have to show you any mercy. I could just kill you, you know?” He responded.

The look in his eye was very reminiscent of yours. Cold with the intent to follow through. But it quickly softened up.

“I just worry about them. I know they're strong, but it's different here.” 

Pitou’s here. 

He didn't want to lose you the same way he'd lost Kite. He promised himself he'd do anything to stop that from happening.

“Man. You two are scary when you're mad.” Meleleron mumbled under his breath.

—-----------------------------------

Your head perked up at the sound of someone entering the room. You weren't as frazzled as before. Directing your attention to the person in the hopes it was one of the boys.

Your eyes landed on Gon first, then on Meleoron. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh? You met the lizard guy. Good.”

“Mhm. He told me you two were friends. I'm so proud of you!” Gon praised.

You weren't the best around people. So to see you made a friend on your own, he was happy for you. But you looked confused by the statement. Face scrunching up.

“Easy. I told him I trusted him. The friends thing is an overstatement.” You explained.

“Well he was gonna kill me if I didn't say I knew you!” Meleoron argued.

“It's your fault for following him.”

“You told me to!!!! Gah! I don't like you at all.” He pointed an accusing finger at you. 

Against your better judgement, you almost laughed. But then you remembered you were still missing your other kid. 

“Killua isn't with you?” You asked.

Gon shook his head.

“We spit up after you left.”

Damn. You didn't have a good feeling about this. Especially with that scout ant still out there. The entire room seemed to go quiet at the information. Killua was the only one missing. And he usually stuck very closely to the plan.

“Do you think…?” Shoot started.

An uncomfortable feeling churned in your gut.

“Let's give him another hour. Besides, we still have a few days left. We can afford to give him that much time.” Morel tried to comfort.

Sensing your distress, Gon sat next to you. He put his head on your shoulder. You could feel worry in his aura, try as he might not to show it. Yet you could tell he was still hopeful Killua would be back.

“Killua will be fine. He won't be beaten so easily.” He assured.

You wanted to believe him, but you couldn't just sit back and do nothing. You summoned half of your nen into your palm. Conjuring a small figure. The ballerina marionette looked up at you, awaiting its orders.

“Find Killua. Return to me in two days if you can't.”

It gave a salute before taking off. 

Your lucky day. 

More waiting.

—--------------------------

Killua felt his body giving out. He'd lost too much blood. He knew he did, collapsing into a puddle of it. A small smile made its way to his face. You probably would have passed out seeing this much. Probably scold him for getting hurt too. He was just glad it was him instead of you.

‘Promise me you'll come back no matter what.’

He blinked slowly. Imagine if he'd made that promise? He would have broken it, and you were never supposed to break a promise to a friend. 

“Sorry, Y/n. I know how you feel about losing another kid. But it's not your fault this time.”

He spoke out into the abyss with the last of his strength. He knew you'd put this on your shoulders. You always did when something went wrong. So much guilt on your conscience.

“It wasn't your fault the first time either.”

He didn't want to add into your trauma, but he could feel himself fading. He wished you could've met Alluka. She would've loved you. And he knows you would've loved to have a little sister again.

He was so grateful he got to meet you. To have someone like you who saw his worth past his assassin potential. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to heal. 

“I love you.” 

He thinks he might've traded his own mother and father if it meant he'd get to bask in your warmth again.

He was grateful for Gon too. For him always being on his side. Seeing nothing but the good in him. His first real friend. He didn't want to leave him either.

“Gon…Please take care of them. They're gonna need you. I'm sorry…I wasn't…any help.”

His body felt cold. He didn't have any strength to push himself up. You wouldn't miss him that much anyways. As long as you had Gon, you'd be fine. You seemed to love him more anyways. He tried to console himself with the thought. Although a part of him knew it wasn't true.

He saw a pair of small feet enter his spotty vision. He heard a piercing shriek. And then darkness.

He awoke to the feeling of something on his chest. He was surprised to wake up at all. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the sudden brightness. He made out the small figure sitting on him.

What was your puppet doing here? 

“Hey Shika. Y/n sent you after me, huh?” He greeted with a smile.

It nodded. 

He doesn't know why it made him so happy. That you cared.

“The little thing didn't leave your side the entire time you were out.” A familiar voice spoke. 

He directed his vision to the side. It was that octopus ant. Ikalgo? He must've been the one that saved him. Now that he thinks about it, he faintly remembered the feeling of being carried.

“How long was I out for?” he asked.

“Three days.”

“TWO DAYS! THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME!”

He took out the IVs from his arms. Getting up as fast as he could to make his way over to you and Gon. You were gonna be so pissed at him.

—--------------------------------------

Shika was still gone. That was a good thing, it meant she found Killua. It meant he was alive out there. It was the only thing that brought you comfort while you waited. 

You glanced over at Knov. He was…well he was mentally fucked. He fell apart at just a glimpse of Pitou's en. You didn't blame him. You'd freaked out too the first time you felt it. But now was not the time. It was one fighter down. 

And then there was Palm. You hadn't heard a word from her. She should've said something by now. Despite getting off on the wrong foot, you'd grown fond of her. You couldn't imagine the weight on her shoulders right now. They'd thrown her right into the lion’s den.

Then there was the matter of how she'd take Knov’s breakdown. The man she loved was physically aging from his fear. Chances are it wouldn't go over well. 

You felt Gon tug on your sleeve. You redirected your attention to him, watching as he pointed up. The portal opened and in finally came Killua.

Thank god.

“Killua!” Gon called out before tackling him in a hug.

He gave out a noise of surprise as he stumbled back. He rebounded quickly, however, and returned the boy in green’s enthusiasm.

“See? I made it out just fine.”

Fine? He was covered in bandages. Just what the hell happened to him. Did you really want to know? You decided it didn't matter, walking towards him slowly.

You were close enough for him to try and make out your expression. You looked drained.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked.

He was caught off guard when you crouched down and pulled him into a hug, cradling his head tightly.

“Don't you ever do that again.”

He could feel you shaking. He didn't mean to make you worry. But despite everything, he couldn't help but smile. You really did care about him. And it's not like peaceful moments like these would last. So he took it all in. Hugging you back tightly.

“I promise I won't. I've got you to protect me, remember?” He tried to lighten the mood, yet you hugged him tighter.

“My precious baby. I was so scared.”

Was it weird he felt like crying? Being loved was such a strange feeling. He thinks his mom would've blown a fuse seeing you coddle him. He doesn't care. Not one bit as you continued to hug him.

You looked over his shoulder, catching the gaze of another chimera ant. This one being an octopus.

“You made a friend?” You asked, hesitantly releasing him.

He couldn't hide his embarrassment when you let him go. Not wanting the other hunters to see him being soft.

“Yeah. He's pretty cool. Just don't call him an octopus.” He responded.

You stood up to your full height, staring down this new ant with scrutiny.

“You give my kid any problems, Squidward?”

He gaped at you. Eyes wide in shock 

“Did…did you just call me squid!?!!”

He turned towards Killua with stars in his eyes.

“Killua I love your big sibling!”

That was unexpected.

Killua stood in front of you protectively.

“You better not! They already have a partner!”

You slapped a hand to your forehead.

“You're such a gremlin. Now you,” you pointed towards the octopus ant.

“Answer the question.”

He stood unwavering in your presence. You were surprised to see a surge of loyalty in his aura.

“I would die if it meant helping Killua out.”

His resolve was strong. 

Geez, these kids had a habit for picking up strange friends. Although you couldn't complain. You needed all the help you could get.

“Well that settles it.” You approved.

Killua high fived him, introducing Ikalgo to Gon while he introduced Meleoron. It filled you with warmth to see your boys back together again. Yet you couldn't get past this gnawing feeling in your gut. The one you always got when something was about to happen. 

It was foreboding.

Over the next three days, you went over the plan. You, Killua, and Gon would take on Pitou. Knuckle, Meleoron, and Shoot would take Youpi. Morel would have to deal with Pouf by himself. Ikalgo was tasked with finding Palm. Something you wouldn't admit had you letting out a sigh of relief.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

It was all you could do while the others plotted for what could go wrong. You don't remember if you've ever been this anxious, your leg bouncing up and down. 

Pitou had healing abilities, or at least you think they did. But what if that wasn't enough to fix Kite? What if he was beyond fixing? Was there any other way you could bring him back? 

You hated how everything was building up. This feeling of dread. Moving from one location to the other. Getting closer and closer to the castle. To your potential doom. It had you chewing on your lip next. Biting at the skin there until it was raw.

Five minutes until midnight.

You decided to ask what was weighing so heavily on your mind.

“What are the other two guards’ abilities?”

Meleoron and Ikalgo looked at each other in thought. The octopus spoke first.

“Pouf has this weird ability. He can give someone a completely different nen type. If there's a specific ability they want, he can grant it.” He explained.

Not good. Was that why there were still so many ants loyal to the king? The chance of becoming more powerful calling to them like a moth to the flame. 

“That's not all. The way he goes about it…It's like the ant was reborn,” Meleoron added.

“He wraps them in a cocoon. Depending on how much was changed, it could take a few hours or a few days before the ant emerges again. It's how they plan to make soldiers out of all the people sorted.”

You felt a flicker of hope. Maybe…Maybe you could substitute it. You just had to be quick. One wrong move and you were dead. You'd be at half power, but it would be worth a shot.

Okay. You had a back up. It helped soothe your nerves a bit. Not enough to get rid of the dread you were feeling.

What was in store for you?

“One minute!” Morel called out.

You tensed as you got up. Everyone around you prepared for battle. You could feel everyone's nerves. Their resolve. Whatever happened now, it would be out of your control. You spared a glance towards Gon and Killua one last time.

You'd protect them no matter what. Even if you had to break your promise to Kari. 

You waited as the last ten seconds ticked down. It was then you finally realized what was wrong. You started shaking. The malicious aura buried so deep inside Gon had consumed him completely. 

“GO!!!!” Morel shouted.

At his command, all of you made a break for it out the door. There was nothing you could do right now. You had to get through this first hurdle first.

What was this power?

Never mind the red beasts on the steps. What was this raw power? No intent to kill, but so overpowering you almost faltered. The building shook from the force. 

Youpi, you presumed, morphed his body to attack. So much happened in just one second. Morel’s smoke screen. The building caving away to golden streaks of nen. Knuckle getting in the first hit. 

You continued running, going right in front of the boys as a precaution. ‘Get past the steps.’ you repeated in your head. Keep going. You could look back later. 

You were fighting with yourself not to let your en scan around you. You couldn't risk letting it clash with another royal guard’s. If you did, you were all screwed. You couldn't even check to see if the boys were still behind you.

All at once, Youpi smashed the steps behind you. You could feel the ground give way slightly, yet still you pushed on. The stairs didn't matter. As long as the boys were okay. 

You relaxed slightly hearing their footfalls behind you. Two pairs of footsteps. Then one. You froze, watching Gon breeze past you without a second thought. You looked back to see Killua running in the opposite direction. Your eyes catching Ikalgo’s aura.

Thinking on your feet, you sent one of your puppets after Killua. You didn't waste a second chasing after Gon. He needed you more right now. He wasn't thinking rationally. If there was one thing you knew about Killua, it was that he kept a level head. Half of your nen should be enough to help him. 

You continued to make your way outside. Eyes widening seeing Morel’s ability. If he was there, then the king was somewhere else entirely. Gon, having noticed the same thing, took off in another direction. And just before you could enter another building, he stopped short. Body tensing.

You followed his gaze.

You didn't believe what you were seeing. The amount of power swirling around some sort of ant. No, it wasn't just some ant. It had to be the king. His aura radiated acceptance. He wasn't angry or malicious. Not a trace of bloodlust. He held himself high without any worry.

Even if you were at full power, even if you were in your prime…You could never take him on. No one from your former clan could. For the first time since you were seven, you felt lesser. Insignificant in this thing’s presence. 

Was that Netero?

He saw you and Gon, gesturing behind himself with a grin. One that said they're all yours. 

That stupid old bastard!

That fucking idiot!

You were swept away in a surge of furious, vengeful aura. So incredibly dark and full of malintent you had to take a step away. The feeling was suffocating. Undeniably, it felt evil.

You wanted to snap him out of it. You wanted to see her in his eyes. But he was getting closer and closer to the edge of no return. That old geezer shouldn't have goaded him on. Morel shouldn't have pushed him earlier. 

What could you do? 

You couldn't tell him not to fight. This was personal. And he'd only double down if you tried. Knock him out maybe? He'd never forgive you for it, but you were running out of options. All you knew was as of right now, Pitou couldn't be killed.

They needed to be alive to fix Kite. 

“Gon! Y/n!” Killua called out.

You forced yourself to turn around, seeing Henry sitting on his shoulder before he transferred back to you. Your nen whole once again.

He frowned seeing your shaken up state. Then his eyes landed on his grandfather. He took in the situation fully. Netero and his grandfather had the King. Which meant…Pitou was in the tower.

He wanted to open his mouth to scold you for using your ability. Tell you not to waste it on making sure he was okay. But the sound of Gon’s voice made him freeze. Like you, he could feel something wasn't right. 

“Pitou is right over there.” Never had Gon’s tone been this cold.

How could the sun be hiding so much darkness?

“Let's go,” He ordered.

Killua stayed behind as Gon continued on his way. He could feel his eyes watering. His lip trembling. He wanted to ask why. What exactly was Gon asking of him? He didn't want to believe that he…

“It's gonna be okay, Killua. I promise you.” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts.

You reached down to swipe away his tears. He allowed himself to break in front of you, if only for a moment.

“But he's never… he's never spoken like that before. Like we weren't friends. How am I supposed to ignore that?” He sobbed, wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to seek out comfort.

He didn't know what you could do, but he wanted you to do something. He wanted you to get Gon back to normal. He always listened to you. 

“You don't. I don't want to tell you to push your feelings down, but we have to wait until this is over to talk to him.” You tried to reassure.

“He's hurting real bad right now. Whether he knows it or not, he needs our support right now.”

You pulled back to stare him in the eye.

“Please, stay strong a little longer for me.”

He nodded feebly, wiping at the snot and tears on his face. If you said things would be okay, he believed you. He composed himself the best he could. Grabbing at your hand like a child as you followed after Gon.

He was surprised to see his Grandfather still there.

“Hey there.” The old man greeted.

Your protective aura immediately wrapped around both boys. Zeno raised a brow at that. His eyes trailing down to where Killua was still clasping your hand tightly. He got it now.

So that was why he changed so much. Why he stood a little taller now. It should've made the boy weak, your care towards him. Instead, it'd made him stronger. No use dwelling on it. He did what he came here to do.

“If you'll excuse me, my job here is done. I know nothing beyond the mission I was given.”

The words were ominous. The feeling of dread only amplifying. 

“Killua, when you get inside, you make the call.” The old man prompted. 

“Make the call?” Killua said, confused by the implications of his grandfather’s words. 

He said nothing else, leaving the three of you alone. 

You didn't know what you were expecting. Perhaps for the manic aura you'd encountered that night to be full force. You couldn't possibly have predicted the sight in front of you. You didn't want to believe it either. After everything that cat ant put you through…After what they put Kite through…

Pitou was healing a girl. 

All their aura gone and placed into the nurse-like creature next to them. Putting all their focus into making sure the girl was okay. It made your stomach churn uncomfortably. You could see it in their aura. Pitou had changed. You didn't think the bloodthirsty creature could. Couldn't fathom the newfound humanity they'd gained.

They deserved to suffer.

They tried to kill you.

And yet you were willing to reach a compromise.

Something must've been fucked in your head to feel a shred of sympathy for this thing. Pitou turned around slowly to face the three of you. A protective fear radiating off them. It was ironic. So many people had died at the hands of this creature, and yet it was putting everything on the line for one girl. What could've caused this?

Gon's malicious aura spiked. It had you trembling.

“Do you remember who I am.” He said lowly.

His demeanor reminded you of Father. You didn't know how to bring him back in. You were scared to try.

“My name is Gon Freecs! And I came here for one reason! To make you restore Kite!” 

His voice felt like it was rumbling off the walls. Pitou kneeled protectively in front of the girl. It looked like…A bear protecting its cub.

You hated this thing. Hated how the situation reminded you of your own. So much going on at once, you struggled to find one thing to focus on. You couldn't think with the outpour of Gon’s menacing aura. 

His eyes looked between Pitou and the girl. Hands clenching in a searing anger. His output increasing that much more.

“Get away from her. Now.” He demanded.

Pitou was still. The panic in their aura rising. Gon stalked towards them. You tried to force your feet after him, but you couldn't move. 

“I said step away from her. And take that monster with you.” He glared at Pitou's ability.

He probably thought they were hurting the girl. But the more rational part of your brain new better. He didn't want the girl getting in his way. This wasn't the Gon you knew and loved. This wasn't the same kid who thought with his heart first. 

“I came here so I could make Kite whole again! So come and fight me!” He shouted.

Pitou immediately placed their hands on the floor. Palms up as a show of submission. It temporarily shocked Gon into letting up on his ren. You were in a similar state of disbelief.

How the hell could so much change in such a short time? 

“Please. Just wait a while.” Their voice was shaky. Pleading for the chance to fix that girl.

But the anger that had been bottled up for months needed an outlet. Gon needed to lash out. Anything that would alleviate the grief and guilt in his chest. He was blind to anything else. Murky aura amplifying tenfold by the humanity Pitou displayed.

“ARE YOU KIDDING! WHY THE HELL SHOULD I WAIT FOR YOU!?! GET UP! WE'RE GOING OUTSIDE!”

He planned on killing them. You couldn't let him. No matter how upset he was. If Pitou died, the plan was over. Kite would be gone forever. So why the hell weren't you speaking up? Why was your voice caught in your throat? 

Gon approached closer to Pitou. 

“I'LL DO ANYTHING!” They pleaded in a last ditch effort to keep him away.

“I'll do anything you want me to do! But you have to wait. Because I…I have to save this person no matter the cost!”

Never had you felt so sick to your stomach. If only this change had come to Pitou sooner. Or perhaps it'd been better if it didn't happen at all.

“Save? What do you mean by save, huh?” Gon questioned.

One wrong word and he'd snap. Killua quickly tried to take over the situation.

“Anything? You say that you'll do anything?” He asked the ant, knowing this might've been your in to save Kite.

But Gon was too far gone by now.

“Killua. I'm asking the questions here.” He snapped.

You could feel his heart break at Gon's words. See the wobble of his lip as he tried to formulate a response. You'd had enough of this.

“You're acting like a brute!” At last you had found your voice. 

Your feet felt like lead as you walked forward. Gon tensed slightly at your voice.

“They don't want to fight. For whatever reason, they're taking care of that girl. If you can't think with a level head, then you need to leave.” You were at your limit.

You hoped he'd find some clarity in your words. But it felt as if he'd directed his anger towards you. 

“I… I remember you.” Pitou spoke up.

They remember you shoving the other human away to save him. They remembered you moving fast. How you ran off with two smaller humans. The feeling of slicing through your flesh. 

“I'm sorry for what I did.” they apologized.

If anything, they were grateful for your presence now. The boy was listening to you. He was letting you speak. Pitou opted for appealing to your humanity instead. Their best bet at keeping Komugi safe was you.

“This girl is…precious to someone I really care about. More than you could possibly know,” they began to explain.

“Because of her, the king became who he is today. If she ceases to exist, the king will cease to be who he is. She means that much.” They searched your eyes for a glimmer of sympathy.

When they found it, they pleaded harder. Doing their best to ignore the ever darkening aura of the boy next to you.

“So all I want…Is for her to live. I beg you to let me heal her. And then I'll do anything you ask of me. So please just wait!” 

Despite their words being directed at you, they were out in the open for the wrong person to hear. Gon took a step forward, and Pitou started to tremble once more.

“You want to save her life?” The question hung in the air, disbelief evident in his tone.

“You're telling me that you really want to save this girl's life?”

Everything poured out all at once. Gon started hyperventilating, pointing an accusing finger in their direction.

“HOW DARE YOU!”

Your senses were swarmed by anger and hate. Grief and malice. Denial and vengeance. You took a step back. You wanted it to stop. Arms wrapping around yourself in an attempt to protect yourself from everything negative combined.

“DAMN IT! WHY YOU! WHY SHOULD I WAIT!?! WHY SHOULD I DO ANYTHING YOU SAY!?!” 

He stalked forward with the intent to kill. You couldn't stop him. 

“Gon, just wait a second!” Killua called out.

“Look. That girl's really hurt. Probably because of us and grandpa's Dragon Dive.”

He stopped walking. Never had he sounded so cruel. So uncaring about another life.

“And?” Like he didn't see the problem with advancing forward.

“And? Pitou's likely healing her. Well, that's what it looks like anyway. So hold off. Wait until it's done.” It was the last attempt to get him to come to his senses.

“Likely? Probably?” Gon said the words like they were poison in his mouth.

“You want me to wait because of that!?! Even if we did wait, there's no way we can guarantee Pitou will follow through on that promise!” 

He'd completely snapped. Aura unrelenting as it poured out in an endless fountain.

“Probably!?! Likely!?! For real!?? The hell with that!”

He turned around to berate his best friend.

“QUIT MESSING AROUND! WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!?!”

Your fingers dug into your skin before releasing. Your hands clenching by your side. Shaking from the pressure. This wasn't your kid.

He needed to stop.

You needed to protect yourself from him.

“YOU WANT- YOU WANT ME TO TRUST THIS THING!?! SERIOUSLY!?! BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL-!”

SLAP

The sound of your palm hitting him reverberated throughout the room. The force of it sending him to the floor. Gon looked up at you in shock. 

You realized your mistake too late. Disgust consuming your entire being. You didn't mean- You didn't want to do that! How could you ever hit your own kid? You deserved to die. Your eyes were burning with tears. Entire body shaking in repulsion.

He looked up at you heartbroken. The expression mixing in with betrayal. 

You just wanted him to stop.

You didn't want to hurt him.

You'd been pushed to a breaking point you didn't think you could come back from. The tension on your shoulders making you double down. He'd been behaving like them. But so had you.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT IN MY PRESENCE! WE HAVE A JOB TO DO! DON'T LET YOUR UNCHECKED EMOTIONS RUIN IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!”

You were a monster. How far would you descend into madness by the end of the night? How far would you keep going? 

You were breathing heavily, trying to keep your composure. But seeing the red swell on his cheek made you want to grovel for forgiveness. 

You could feel his hurt increase. Watching him lift a hand to his cheek and wince at the sting. A scowl overtook his features. Angry tears beginning to run down his face.

“IT’S NOT FAIR! WHY?!? WHY ARE YOU TAKING THEIR SIDE!?! AFTER EVERYTHING THEY DID TO KITE!?! AND YOU WANT TO LET THEM LIVE!?! WHY!?! DAMNIT TELL ME!!!!”

“IF YOU WOULD STOP BEING SELFISH FOR ONE SECOND, YOU'D SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE!” You shouted back.

“IF WE KILL PITOU, WE'D NEVER BE ABLE TO BRING KITE BACK! YOU'D THROW AWAY OUR ONLY OPPORTUNITY! QUIT ACTING LIKE A LITTLE KID!”

He went silent. His murky aura retreating back to him. Yet his anger was still very much present. It gave you hope, of only for a moment. Then he spoke, voice unwavering and cold.

“I hate you. You're nothing but a pathetic coward who can't even hold their own.”

And then he said something he hoped hurt you. Not caring about the repercussions it would bring.

“It's no wonder your sister died.”

Your hands clenched. Your own angry aura lashing out. Don't do it. You disgrace. Don't do it. You knew he wanted a reaction from you. You weren't about to give it to him.

You slammed your fist into the wall, crumbling it completely. You didn't want to do something else you'd regret.

“Gon that's enough!” Killua reprimanded. 

He didn't seem to hear him, walking until he was directly in front of Pitou.

He didn't mean it.

Gon would never mean something like that. 

But you didn't think you could forgive him for saying that. Using the secret you'd confided in him to hurt you. You sacrificed so much of yourself for these kids. You didn't ask for much in return. Just the understanding that you were doing your best. You didn't know how you'd get through this one.

You supposed he'd never forgive you either for raising a hand at him. 

“For how long? How long should we wait?” He interrogated the cat ant.

You could feel relief radiate from them.

“I estimate it'll take three to four hours to heal her completely.” They answered.

You knew Pitou was lying to you. You knew they were trying to buy time. And dammit you knew you shouldn't have a shred of sympathy for this thing. But…

But Gon was going too far. He needed a buffer. Anything that might give him time to cool off. You couldn't guarantee the full three hours, but you'd try your best.

“Sorry. Too long.” Gon denied.

You spoke up before Pitou could try to plead for more time.

“Give them a little over an hour.”

He was about to snap at you again, but you didn't give him the opportunity to.

“You said you'd owe me any favor from Greed Island, remember? I'm calling it in right now. Let them heal the girl for an hour.”

You directed your attention to Pitou next.

“And once you're done, you're gonna fix our friend. The off chance you can't…You'll take your own life as payment. Do we have a deal?”

They bowed down their head to you. Truthfully, their priority was the king. They needed to protect him at all costs. If they couldn't fix the human you wanted, then they would leave back to the king's side. But you didn't need to know that.

“I promise.”

A beat of silence. And then your eyes were piercing through theirs. They were unforgiving and knowing.

“Mean it.” You said.

“What?”

“I said mean it when you promise me.” You repeated.

You wouldn't let them get out of this that easily. It was fine. As long as they kept you and that boy away from the king, they could die willingly.

“I swear.” They affirmed, deceit no longer in their aura.

You took a step back, watching as Gon sat himself right in front of Pitou.

“I'll wait right here for one hour.” He conceded.

Neither of you noticed when Killua slipped out of the room. He couldn't handle the tension. Gon had spoken down to him, like he was nothing. Friends weren't supposed to do that. You said he was hurting. That wasn't an excuse to lash out. 

Killua couldn't believe his ears when he'd brought up your past against you. It'd made him mad. Gon was gonna end up making you leave again. And then what? How were they supposed to do this without you?

You'd hit Gon too. He doesn't think he's ever seen that side of you. Even when Killua had been provoking you, never in a million years did he think you would hit him. So what exactly was it that made you slap Gon?

It scared him straight. He knows if he was in the same position he would have broken. 

There were signs, weren't there? Your frantic state. Scared and terrified of the power engulfing you. You pushed yourself to be here. 

He couldn't stand what the NGL had brought out in the two of you. For his sake, he needed space. He needed something to get out all these pent up emotions. The hurt. The anger. The worry. So he left.

You'd been too focused on making sure Gon kept his word to notice. Pitou looked between the two of you. They felt better with you here, leaning closer to your side. As if seeking out protection from Gon’s hateful gaze.

You didn't know how long it'd been. You were sure Gon was keeping track though. Without much thought, you let your en back out. Your 100 meter radius down to 70 from your stress. You felt around for anything heading your way. Faintly you could sense Morel and Knuckle's aura. They were on the cusp of being out of your reach. They were fighting another beastly aura. 

They were struggling. 

You should help them. You shouldn't be sitting here doing nothing. But you just couldn't risk Gon snapping and killing Pitou. You shifted slightly, preparing to make your decision. 

A flicker of life was heading towards you. So small you almost missed it. Two smidges of life floated above you. The aura was disingenuous. It shifted into curiosity after a while. Someone was watching you.

You didn't spare them a glance, concealing the nen in your palm. It slithered like a snake right under the small blimps of life. Little by little one of your puppets formed. Right before you could command it to strike, the aura receded. 

But it wasn't gone. 

More of it started to gather outside the room. Combining until it made up a full being. They seemed unbothered by the situation. As if on cue, a pair of footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Pitou looked out the door in fear.

“Just stay back. Don't come any closer, alright?” They pleaded with the unknown party.

The footsteps picked back up.

“Pouf please!”

You got up slowly. If this was another royal guard, you'd take care of it. You needed an outlet right now. Before they could speak, you met the new ant's eye. 

A butterfly? 

“I don't think so. Let's go.” You gestured back out the door.

He returned your gaze with a glare. Uninterested composure slipping.

“I've got an ass kicking with your name on it.”

A disgusted expression crossed his face. Aura brimming with hostility.

“Excuse me? And what gives you the impression you can give orders to me?” 

A strand of nen wrapped tightly around his neck. He didn't even sense it. Unbeknownst to Pouf, your abilities were somewhat similar. You could read emotions just as he could. Tell what the enemy was thinking. But yours was more practiced. It had him outclassed in a way he was unaware of.

“I wasn't asking.” You said, heading towards the door.

He spared a look over your shoulder at Pitou. Mischief littering his aura before he trailed after you.

“Very well then.”

The grin soon wiped off his face. You reached out and grabbed the particle he released. Crushing it in your hands before speaking. 

“I don't think you understand the position you're in. I'm not gonna let your bullshitery enter this room. Get out or I'll drag you out.”

Your top priority was making sure Gon waited the full hour. Any threat to that needed to be stopped. The ant scowled at you. A petty hatred radiating off him. Still, he followed obediently behind you.

Knowing they were about to be left alone with Gon, Pitou called out to you. 

“Wait! Please don't leave!” They begged. 

“Shut up. Just let them go.” Gon silenced.

It was the last thing you heard before exiting completely. Your en was fully activated to catch any tricks Pouf might throw at you. He faced you without worry, believing you weren't a threat at all.

If anything, he thought you were a fool. Attempting to do what Pitou successfully had.

“May I ask you something?”

But you saw right through it. This thing didn't have a shred of humanity. An animal in every sense of the word. 

“Go to hell.” You responded.

His scowl deepened. He needed to get rid of you. That boy was a problem. And you were the obstacle getting in the way of dealing with him. He tried to gauge your emotional state. There was nothing but an unshakable resolve. 

“Very well then. Have it your way.”

Subduing you should be more than enough. He could always come back and kill you later. Mind made up, he spread his wings and threw his scales at you in mass. 

Even if you tried to get away, you'd be breathing them in. He had you. But as the dust settled, there was a little ballerina in your place. He felt something slam into his artificial body. Another puppet had attacked him.

You were nowhere to be seen.

What the hell?

“I don't have time for this. I must see the King at once.” He grumbled.

“Over here!” You called out.

A foolish mistake. He would not let you get away again. He spit into smaller segments. A few hundred of them charging at you while the others made a beeline away. His core spared a glance back, smiling triumphantly to see his segments holding down their target.

Only to realize it wasn't you. That same ballerina beamed up at the segments with hollow eyes.

“Strike two!” It cheered.

Pouf let out a frustrated noise before deciding to scamper away. Core flying away as fast as he could.

“Fuck! He's getting away!”

You needed one more. One more hit…. One more aura sample. Your eyes scanned for the real him. Spotting it, you used your speed to grab him from the air. 

He gave out a choked sound. 

“Let me go!” He screamed.

You were falling fast back down. Having scaled the side of the building to catch him. He was at your mercy. You could kill him right now. You should kill him. You could feel a mass form next to you. Looking up just in time to see his fake body lunge towards you. 

Bingo!

It's fist making contact with a metallic surface.

“Strike three! Yippee! Game over.” Shika cheered.

Confused, Pouf flew away. 

You landed on your feet. Shika summoned besides you. You couldn't unsummon her or you'd lose Pouf’s ability. You might be able to risk going after him. But your power was cut in half. Realistically you had no chance if the other guard was with him.

A damn shame.

You made your way back to where Pouf and Gon were, stopping at the call of your name.

 “Y/n. What happened to you? Where's Pouf?” Knuckle questioned. 

He thought he saw the butterfly and go this way.

“I dealt with most of him.” You answered.

“Most?”

“A little piece of him got away.”

“His damn segments,” he mumbled before addressing you again.

“That bastard is still out there.” 

“It's okay. I got what I needed from him. If I see him again, I can go all out.” You assured.

He finally noticed the smaller being by your side. He decided not to bring it up. Instead gesturing towards the door behind you.

“How’s Gon doing?”

You let out a drained sigh.

“I wouldn't go in there. He's not himself. He won't listen to anyone right now. Not even me. One wrong word and it's all over. He'll kill Pitou if he's pushed. It's best to leave him alone.” You explained.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“Positive. Please, tell the others not to disturb him.”

Right as the words left your mouth, someone else called out to you.

“Y/n?” It was Killua.

Behind him was Ikalgo and a new ant. You scanned her with your eyes and froze and the familiarity of it. 

“Palm?”

She smiled at you. 

Without thinking, you went up to her and pulled her into a hug.

“Oh Palm, what did they do to you?” You said softly.

You could feel her embarrassment from the contact. Yet she hugged you back all the same.

“They turned me into an ant. I died. But they brought me back. Am I…Do you think Knov will still love me?” She asked shyly.

You pulled back from her with a small smile.

“He better. I was so worried about you. I'm glad to see you're okay.”

Killua cleared his throat, effectively catching your attention.

“I thought if Gon saw Palm was okay, he'd calm down a little.”

Your expression turned somber, shaking your head no.

“He's too far gone. We can't push him right now. It's better if we leave him alone. I'm the only one fast enough to save Pitou if he changes his mind.”

With no other choice but to wait, you all stood by the doorway. It felt like an eternity before they emerged. You were engulfed in the volatile aura once more. 

Pitou hesitated by the exit, turning around to try and comfort the girl. They stopped immediately hearing Gon’s threat. He'd actually threatened to kill Komugi.

You were helpless to do anything. The others in equal shock at his brutal display. Knuckle offered to keep Pitou at bay if they tried anything. But Gon brushed him off. His mind already made up.

“For some reason…I trust Pitou.” He justified, though it sounded like the complete opposite.

You could feel Pitou plotting something in desperation. Their eyes met yours. Silently begging you with their eyes to come along. The hope in them vanishing completely at Gon’s next choice of words.

“Take care of that girl for us until we save Kite.” He ordered.

“Once Pitou heals Kite, we'll release her. I promise you that.” His tone almost mocking as he addressed the cat ant.

“So guess that means for now, you're just gonna have to trust me too. Right, Pitou?” 

They nodded slowly. Following closely behind Gon as he made his way back to Peijing. The icky feeling you've had all night consumed you. You wanted to go after him, something in your gut told you to go. But just this once, you ignored it.

You convinced yourself things would be okay.

“You should've gone with him,” Knuckle said.

“Why didn't you?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't know what kept you rooted on the spot. It could've been the familiarity of such malice that kept you away. It could've been not wanting Pitou to use you as a way to get to him. Or it could've done with those three little words.

‘I hate you.’

“It's fine. Now that I've laid my eyes on Gon, I'd know if something happened to him,” Palm intervened.

The subject was soon dropped. Your group of six deciding what to do next when Palm let out a gasp of surprise.

“What is it?” Knuckle asked.

“It's the king! He's coming this way!”

The air felt like it was sucked from your lungs.

“The king? Netero was supposed to take care of him! What do you mean he's on his way!?!” Your tone frantic.

Shit. 

Everybody was working with less than optimal power.

“What do we do? What can we do?” Ikalgo said hopelessly.

You needed a minute to think. A minute you didn't have as a familiar aura approached. Thousands of little blimps scattering along and heading right towards your group.

“Pouf’s segments are here! We gotta get Komugi out of here now! As for the king, if you can't fight, find a place to hide! It's the only choice we have! I'll stall him as long as I can!” You did your best to control the situation.

“Are you crazy?!? No way in hell are you fighting the King alone!” Killua argued, grabbing your arm to make sure you listened.

“He's right! We're not gonna hide like a bunch of cowards while you're being killed!” Knuckle backed up.

You didn't have time for arguments. Pouf was getting closer. Every second standing around was a second the king was getting closer. Yet the resolve of those around you was strong. 

“Then we'll deal with him when he gets here! For now, we gotta get the girl out of here!”

Right as you said it, dozens of Poufs flew into the area. He set his sights on Komugi and flew towards her. You used your ren to give them some push back. 

“Scatter! The more of these things we destroy, the weaker he'll be!”

Killua reacted first, picking up Komugi and using his God Speed to get out of there. You would have cheered him on of the situation hadn't been so dire. Knuckle and Meleoron took off next. Last was Palm and Ikalgo, who decided to help the women still trapped underground.

You were confused to see Pouf's segments only go after Killua. Flying straight at him with the intent to kill. You rushed in front, much to the ant’s dismay.

“Remember me?”

All of the segments frowned, looking over your shoulder. The ones closest to you smashed to dust.

“I'll catch and destroy every part of you!” You threatened.

His expression became manic. The segments mumbling out curses. You could faintly pick up on the muttering of one.

“First that damn girl distracts the king. Then me and Pitou's project defects to the other side. Now I gotta find some way around this human to kill Komugi!”

Everything clicked for you in that moment. Eyes widening in realization. You were frozen on the spot as a few of Pouf’s segments went last you.

‘Me and Pitou's project.’

‘I was killed...They brought me back.’

Your body shook, standing in horror at the revelation. Unawares Pouf had once again changed his course upon being unable to beat Killua. The small assassin took notice of your shell-shocked state.

“Y/n!?! What's wrong!?!” He called out.

“I've gotta…I need to…” 

You willed your body to move. Head filled with a fuzzy static. If that was the case…

“Damn!” You shouted in frustration. 

You were sure it sounded like you were crazy. Hurriedly getting the words out in an attempt to express how dire the situation really was.

“They're abilities work in tandem with each other! Pitou fixes the external damage and Pouf brings them back! If we want to save Kite, we need Pouf's ability! But I can't just leave you to the king!”

Killua’s blood went cold. Realizing the same thing as you. When Pitou couldn't fix Kite by themselves, Gon would lose it completely.

“Yes you can! Gon needs you right now! You have to tell him before it's too late! We're screwed if he kills Pitou after we've figured it out!” He urged you to leave. 

“I can't leave you!” You doubled down.

You didn't want to lose another kid. But Killua wasn't going to budge. He couldn't knowing what was on the line.

“I won't die on you! I promise you I'll get out of here alive!”

Damn it all.

You took off in the direction Kite was being held. Pushing your legs the fastest they could go. Still it wasn't fast enough. Gliding through the terrain with ease and it still wasn't enough for you. You used as much energy as you could spare to summon your en. Sensing around for Gon and Pitou. 

You thought you found him when there was an explosion of nen. Dark. So incredibly dark and filled with everything negative. Hate, Sadness, Guilt, Resignation.

You pushed yourself that much faster, suffocating the deeper you got to the center of that aura. Time seemed to freeze.

DANGER

DANGER

DANGER

Who was that!?!

The source of the heinous aura made a lunge for Pitou. The attack very much familiar to you. You pushed yourself as hard as you could and tackled Pitou out of the way.

It felt like your back was on fire. The blast of nen missing you by a centimeter. Still its power overwhelmed you. You rolled with the cat ant a few times. Righting yourself up to see this new enemy.

No.

It can't be.

Your expression morphed into one of terror. Hand covering your mouth and willing the vile to go down. Your body heaving and shaking. 

“Gon?”

There were parts of his aura that were similar. His clothes were similar. But everything else made you want to cry. His eyes, the ones you always found a piece of her still in, had darkened to the point of unrecognition. His body was not his own. 

What did he do to himself?

What curse did he place on himself to physically age himself up?

This had to be a nightmare.

He stood looming in front of you. Like a predator zoning in on its prey. You extended your arms out in defense of Pitou. 

“You stopped me. Why did you stop me?”

You didn't even recognize his voice. You were scared of him. Frightened at what he might do.

“You keep defending them. Does their life really mean that much to you? More than I mean to you? After everything we've been through…” He hands clenched at his side. Unimaginable power coursing through his veins.

He was looking at you like you were less than nothing. But you couldn't back down.

“Gon, you have to trust me. You're not the only one who's hurting. You're not the only one who's angry.”

You loved Kite too. 

“And it would be so easy to kill Pitou, to get this over with and say it's justice. But it's not. If you kill them, it's a path you can't come back from. You don't want this blood on your hands!”

He took a step forward.

“Please, you have to listen to me. There's another way to bring him back. Just calm down.”

You thought you'd gotten through to him. But he truly was too far gone to listen to reason.

"You're in the way. Move or I'll kill you both."

You hadn't been this scared since Father. Since your entire clan turned on you. There was no deceit in his aura. He really meant it.

You flicked your hand to the side, commanding the puppet on your shoulder to move.

“GO! GET PITOU OUT OF HERE NOW!”

You used your other puppet to block Gon’s next attack.

Your ballerina marionette’s hand morphing into a blade against Pitou's neck.

“This way now.” It instructed.

Pitou owed you a favor for saving their life. For saving Komugi’s. They let the puppet guide them back into the safehouse.

Gon’s attention was fully on you. His rage was directed towards you. And he made it known.

“Show me rock!”

You barely had enough time to dodge. With both of your puppets summoned, you were at his complete mercy.

You made a dash for the trees, hiding yourself in the foliage. Everytime he punched though one, you'd substitute with Henry last second. You didn't know how to snap him out of this.

“I know what you're going through! I've been there before! Hell, I'm still there! I know you Gon! You're not like me!”

Your energy was draining fast, yet his seemed endless. Attacking you without restraint.

“COME OUT AND FIGHT ME INSTEAD OF RELYING ON CHEAP TRICKS!”

You were crying, pleading for this kid to hear you through his pain. But your pleas continued to fall on deaf ears.

“I know this is hard! I know you've been strong for too long! Everything you've been carrying on your shoulders! But you need to hold off! You have to be willing to let Pitou live!”

He sent a surge of energy through the treetops. You evaded down…Right into his trap. His jan-ken poised and ready to crack open your skull. 

You didn't have any time to substitute.

It was a miracle you slipped. The blow only barley missing your head. You were about to rebound up when a hand wrapped around your neck. You felt yourself hanging in the air.

Your lungs denied of the oxygen they desperately needed. He stared you down with unforgiving eyes. 

You thought of Kari. How you were in the same position she'd been in 13 years prior. Your vision was blanking out. Mind running a thousand thoughts a minute. He was going to kill you. 

He was here to kill you.

Your tears ran down your cheeks and onto his hand. The sensation miraculously catching Gon’s attention.

You were…crying?

He made you cry?

For a moment the fog cleared in his mind. He saw you. He realized what he was doing. His rageful expression at last softening. The grip around your neck went lax. He was about to let you go completely when a heavy body knocked onto his side.

You fell with a thud. A murky purple haze around your eyes. Your body curled into a defensive ball. 

It was your puppet. But it was different. It's entire being surged with power. Manic, ruthless power. Its body growing and expanding to fit. It smiled with jagged teeth. 

“New game: start!”

It lunged forward. Gon tried to dodge it, but it wasn't aiming for a direct hit. It made a faint slash to his side. Bouncing around with an agility that shouldn't be possible with its size to continue slashing around. 

He summoned his nen into his palm once more. Shooting off a successful blast of aura at the jester. It only puffed out its chest to disperse the energy. Rebounding forward once again to continue its onslaught.

He met it with a punch, finally making contact. The jester only tutted at him. He realized his mistake too late. It clung to his arm, flashing a smile full of nothing but deranged madness. Try as he may to pry his arm free, this thing wouldn't let him go.

“We'll start out way up top and slit you right on down the spine!”

It's hand morphing into a saw blade, circling around his arm and sawing through the flesh. He could feel the warmth of his blood leaving his body.

“And then I'll sink my little fingers in to help slough off that rind!”

Articulated hands digging into the cut it made and yanking off the limb from his body. This thing was gonna kill him. And maybe a part of him wanted it to. He'd broken his promise to Kite. He'd hurt you.

But the onslaught only grew more violent.

The puppet punched its own monstrous arm through the gushing stub, preventing Gon from being able to pull back. It took a familiar stance that had his eyes widening.

“Jan-ken-rock!” It mimicked.

It was more concentrated than anything he'd ever been able to produce. Shattering every bone in his body, despite the aura protecting it.

You were a monster in every sense of the word. This was what you'd been holding back. This madness. Pure killer instinct to be the last one standing.

And still it wasn't done with him as he collapsed on the ground.

“You’re going to di-ie~ And then I'll wear your skin as a suit. It's a promise ~” It sang out.

Once again it charged up his ability, but there was less power this time.

“Nighty night little sun~”

It was toying with his body. Torturing him just enough to keep him alive. But he deserved it. He bet his life on saving Kite. It was only right he lost it for failing. At least it was you. If he had to be killed, he'd rather it be you that did it. 

Funny how the one supposed to be protecting him was his undoing. 

—---------------------------

Killua rushed through the forest as fast as he could. He had to warn you and Gon. Pitou could betray you two at any second. He had to get there. 

His ears picked up on a thudding sound. It came again. And again. Growing louder the closer he got. He didn't know what it was. He couldn't have predicted it either.

He got to a clearing. A surge of nen lighting up the area before it was released. He ran straight ahead, freezing in horror at the sight before him. 

On the ground, body broken to the point of being unrecognizable, was Gon.

On top of him was a bigger version of your puppet.

It charged up aura into its fist before slamming down. The cause of the repetitive noise.

And curled up under a tree was you.

“Y/N!” He screamed out your name.

Running towards you and shaking you. Begging you to stop. Feeling like he was in a horrible dream.

“Y/N! STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!” He shrieked.

But at the feeling of something touching you, you broke out into a hysterically sob.

“NO!!!! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!”

The last of your energy going into your cry. Body giving out completely. As soon as you'd gone comatose, the puppet disappeared. All traces of your nen did.

Killua ran over to Gon next, not bothering to hold back his cries. He was alive, but barely. His body was mangled beyond anything he'd ever seen.

What happened here?

What was he supposed to do?

The weight of his next move hung heavily on his shoulders.

Only one. 

He could only save one. 

He was sobbing hysterically at this point. How could you both put him in this position? How could you make him choose between you two? Who mattered more?

“...I'm so sorry Y/n. Please forgive me.” He picked up Gon, casting one last glance back.

He caught sight of a dark handprint across your neck. The indentations of fingers. 

“Please forgive me. I won't be able to go on if you don't.”

Gon needed more help right now. He'd send someone to get you as soon as possible. 

—------------------------

Pitou finished up the last of Kite's stitches, making sure the skin looked normal. When your puppet first led them here, they didn't understand what was wanted of them. Already having told Gon there was no use.

But your puppet was persistent. Gesturing towards the body and hissing out a ‘fix, you must fix.’

It wasn't until it said memory that Pitou understood. Fix the body so Pouf’s ability could take care of the rest. They did their best to get it done quickly. Giving out a sigh of relief when it was over.

“My job is finished here. I need to make my way back to the king.”

They took a few steps towards the exit, unable to process what happened as their vision turned upside down. The floor becoming closer and closer to their line of vision.

“We…are not merciful.” Your puppet said quietly. Little feet entering Pitou's line of sight.

“And you broke your promise…We were never going to let you live.”

It raised its foot up, completely stomping the cat ant’s head in. Putting an end to the creature that had caused so much pain.

It picked up Pitou's mangled skull, leaving it right beside the cocoon. 

“For you.”

Then it disappeared along with the rest of your nen. Never to return again.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Fun Fact: There are no Fun Facts for this one.

Tags: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao @bekataylorgriggs @zellwa @rainbowpr1sm @shun-nie @snake-in-a-flower-crown

MASTERLIST

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An: Oh boy. Oh no. Those are my comfort characters doomed to the narrative. So uhhhh, let's talk about the slap and how the cycle of abuse is a hard one to break. Let's talk about lashing out in fear the same way Y/n was hurt because it's the only way they know how to make it stop. The only way they were taught to enact discipline. Let's talk about Gon feeling so hurt and betrayed because Y/n said they'd never hit either of them. How he never thought they'd raise their hand at him.

Oh boy, let's talk about that fight. Ah yes, my biggest inspirations: Tangled the Series’ Nothing Left to Lose, Steven Universe’s Change, specifically this cover, and Puppet History’s Pieces of You.

Let's talk about how utterly traumatizing it was for Killua to have to pick between the two people he loves the most. Let's talk him watching Y/n about to kill his best friend. Let's talk about him seeing their crushed wind wipe and knowing Gon tried to kill them too. 

Let's talk about the consequences of our actions ladies and gentlemen. Let's theorize the aftermath and how things are about to get worse before they can get better.