#sigh well small rant in the tags lol

[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.

#park jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts smut #jimin smut #bts angst #jimin angst #bts fluff #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #bts x fem!reader #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #min yoongi #older reader

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

Jotaro Kujo — kakyoin's amusement

cw: nothing rlly, jotaro kujo is bad at feelings tag

an: inspired by that tiktok audio of when he sees me lol

Always being on the move with barely any breaks and with enemies at every turn has left Kakyoin with little to no entertainment. Of course, he doesn't mind, even if he's already starting to miss his NES.

Fortunately for the red-head teenager, it seems that the Gods have heard his prayers and have blessed him with a new source of entertainment, exclusive front-row seats that only he is the audience of, said entertainment being the hidden feelings between you and Jotaro.

Well, it's not really hidden—you're both aware of your feelings, just not each other's. And being the only other teenager left, the two of you ran to Kakyoin to rant about your feelings. 

And just the admissions alone was already absolutely amusing.

You were the first to admit your feelings. 

It was still early on the journey, and Kakyoin was tasked to retrieve tickets with Jotaro, but he found that the teen had already gone on without him. Shrugging it off, Kakyoin opted to enjoy his stay and make the most of the hotel amenities instead. 

He found himself in the pool area, and much to his surprise, he caught you in one of the beach chairs on the poolside. Feeling his eyes on you, you wave him over, and he approaches you to sit on the beach chair adjacent to yours. 

It was quiet, and Kakyoin racked his brain for anything to say. Eventually, he opens up the conversation with one of the obscure facts he knows off the top of his head. 

Thankfully, you responded in kind, and the conversation flowed easily from there. Your conversation bounced from one thing to another before eventually, the both of you settled in comfortable silence while laying back on your respective beach chairs. 

It was a bit sudden for Kakyoin, but he'd be lying if he said he was surprised when you suddenly admitted it. 

"I think I like him...." You spoke, suddenly breaking the silence between you and the red-headed teen. Kakyoin glances at you, and he can see you feeling a bit embarrassed to say it out loud. 

"Hm..." Kakyoin hums in response before adding with a noticeable teasing lilt in his voice. "Who? Polnareff?"

"Yes, of course. Because I want a grown man." You respond sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you look at him, watching his lips turn up to an amused smirk. "I'm talking about Mr. Joestar, obviously."

"Right, my mistake." Kakyoin matched your energy, the both of you sharing a chuckle, before he turns to look at you, meeting your gaze. 

"So, Jotaro, huh?" 

Kakyoin's smirk widens at the sudden smitten look on your face just from the mention of the name, and he's 99% positive that you don't even realize it. 

"Yeah..." You sigh, one that reminds him of a hopeless romantic protagonist of romcoms he's seen his parents watch before. "I mean, can you blame me? Going through all these troubles just for his mom? How he jumped to save that kid without hesitation? And that face of his isn't helping."

"Honestly? I can't say I'm surprised." Kakyoin responds to your small rant, his voice soft and comforting. He sees your lips part, looking at him in slight panic, and he cuts you off before you can even speak. 

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks, Kakyoin."

"Mhm. Thank you for trusting me with this."

On the other hand, it took Jotaro quite a while before he admitted it—both to himself and to his friend. 

After a long day of fighting the menace that was Steely Dan and a long day of traveling, they ended up in another hotel. As usual, Jotaro and Kakyoin ended up sharing a room, and you ended up getting separated from them with your very own room. 

It was a really long day for both teenagers; both were drained and worn out, with Kakyoin mentally exhausted from exerting the effort to manifest his stand in a much smaller form and Jotaro both mentally and physically drained after all the beating he took earlier in the day. 

"I should've beaten him up more." Jotaro groans from his bed, making Kakyoin turn to look at him, a brow raised. 

"Steely Dan? You ended up hating him that much?" Kakyoin responds before leaning on his elbows, still lying on the bed. "How bad are the things he did to you when we left you with him?"

"That's not the issue. I've already made him pay for what he did to me." Jotaro responds, before shooting up from his bed, removing his hat, and placing it on the shared nightstand between their beds, running a hand through his hair. 

"But...." Jotaro trails off, and Kakyoin sits up on his bed as well, raising his brow even more. 

Jotaro grumbled something under his breath, and Kakyoin could swear he heard your name amongst the words the other teen grumbled. 

Kakyoin repeats your name, and Jotaro faces Kakyoin, his gaze hardened. 

"What about them?" Kakyoin asks curiously. 

"I can't easily forgive him for the shit he did to them."

Kakyoin is quite surprised by his words and how genuine they sound. His gaze darts to his friend's face, his scowl deeper than usual, a vein almost popping on his temple. Jotaro's exhaustion must be making him slip his composure, his emotions taking hold of his exhausted mind. 

"What did he do?" 

"He grabbed them. Right. in front. of. me." Jotaro scowls, his jaw clenched tightly. "Grabbed onto their arm so tightly like they were his."

Kakyoin blinks at that, his eyes widening slightly. No.. that expression on Jotaro's face.. it wasn't annoyance. Not completely...

"Held their chin to make them look at him. His face was so damn close to theirs, I would've punched him right then and there if it wasn't for the old man."

Definitely not annoyance. It's jealousy.

"I could feel Star Platinum just about ready to make him regret being born, and I had to actively hold him back." Jotaro finishes his mini-rant with a deep, annoyed sigh, his eyes darting over to look at Kakyoin. 

It was Jotaro's turn to look confused at the amused grin on Kakyoin's face, a knowing look in his lavender gaze, making Jotaro's brows scrunch in confusion as he looks at his friend. 

"The hell are you smiling about?" Jotaro asks bluntly with a deep scowl, "Didn't you hear a thing I just said?"

"I think you're the one who didn't hear what you just said, Jotaro." Kakyoin responds amusedly, his grin not faltering even under the scrutinizing gaze of Jotaro Kujo. 

"What are you blabbering about?"

"Think back to your words, Jotaro. You're not stupid."

Jotaro paused for a while, running a hand through his already messy hair at his friend's cryptic behavior. He was already exhausted and pissed off; he didn't need any more of Kakyoin's bullshit—still, curiously, Jotaro did as he was asked. 

Kakyoin's amused smile slowly widens along with Jotaro's eyes slowly widening in realization as he plays his own words back in his mind. His surprised gaze turned to look at Kakyoin. 

"Are you suggesting....?" Jotaro trails off with a hiss. "Fuck off."

"I'm not even saying anything."

"Don't think about it. I'd rather eat my socks."

"Oh?"

"Don't look at me like—" Jotaro sighs. "It's not like that,"

"But it is," Kakyoin insists with a raised brow and a smirk, "Isn't it?"

Jotaro didn't even respond this time, looking away from his friend's teasing gaze as his own landed on his bed sheets. Kakyoin could see the dust of pink on the other teen's cheeks the more he remained silent, and that was already enough of a response to him. 

"God fucking damnit." Jotaro curses under his breath at the realization, letting out a deep sigh as he glares at his sheets. Kakyoin remained silent as he let Jotaro think about his newfound feelings. 

Eventually, Jotaro turns his head to look at Kakyoin, the usual calm, cold, neutral look on his face as his ocean gaze stares through his lavender ones. 

"Turn away for a bit." Was all Jotaro said. Confused, Kakyoin did as he was told, turning his back to Jotaro and looking at the wall beside his bed. 

Suddenly, Kakyoin jumps slightly in surprise. 

Jotaro is screaming.

It's muffled, probably by his pillows and his sheets, and it probably wasn't loud enough to be heard outside their room, but loud enough to surprise Kakyoin.

It didn't take long before he heard a deep breath and then silence.

"Good night," Jotaro spoke nonchalantly, and Kakyoin swiftly turned, but Jotaro was already on his side, back turned towards the red-head who was only blinking at him in a mix of amusement and surprise. 

"Also, don't tell anyone about this."

"Aye, aye, captain."

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jotaro kujo x you #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba #jjba x you #jotaro x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro x y/n #jjba jotaro

[fillinforlater]

FEAR----

Male Reader x Huh Yunjin (ft. Chaewon)

Length: 2420 words

Tags: con-non-con kink, change in pov, piss kink, water sports, public sex, choking, gagging, a kinky robbery, humiliation, crying, name calling, missionary, messy make-out, all the bodily fluids, roleplay, dacryphilia maybe, misattribution-of-arousal-kink!Yunjin

TW: cnc kink, water sports (pee), (role)playing with fear

Inspiration: ffs, I have no clue why my brain comes up with these. Maybe I'm just insane? Or stupid? Or too horny for my own good?

(A/N: yeah, I think I will have to take a break after this. Something very different will come up next, but I still need time to write it lol, so please be patient. For those that love these kinks, you're welcome, I won't write them (especially water sports) often.)

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Chaewon’s quiet, tender whisper is calming like a cool breeze in blazing summer heat. It takes you out of your short trance, which you spent gazing at the ring on her finger. You look into her concerned eyes, then towards her blonde friend at the bar. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you set down the untouched cocktail.

"You know I like the idea," you start your rant, hoping it removes the uncertainty burdening your heart, "and I know you're completely fine with it. But the more I look at her—I just don't know if she knows what she really wants. You get me?"

"I think I do. Hmm,” Chaewon ponders for a second, caressing your palm, "Look, how about we ask her right now."

She turns around and with a wave of her hand she gets her friend's attention. The young woman quickly walks over, a bright, beautiful smile on her features. She stops next to your wife and straightens her postures when she looks at you. Before she can greet you, Chaewon whispers a long message into her ear. It makes her face sweaty and redder with each word.

"So," Chaewon loudly announces at the end of her explanation,"what are you thinking, Yunjin."

"I—"

Yunjin locks eyes with you. Her hands fidget, her upper body tenses up and her breath responds to her increased heartbeat. You can almost see the small muscle in her chest throb. She hesitates, even with Chaewon's reassuring smile and strokes on her back. Before you can speak up however, Yunjin's firm answer catches you by surprise:

"I still want it. I don't know what else to say, but I really want this and I don't care about the dangers."

"Alright," you respond blankly, though slightly in awe of Yunjin's clarity, "I appreciate your trust."

#

It's way past midnight when Yunjin leaves the area around the well-lit HYBE building to walk home. Dark, narrow corridors in between cold, lifeless concrete buildings are her choice, as she is eager to get to her flat quickly. Yunjin will always sacrifice a bit of lighting for effective short cuts. With her cell phone as a flashlight in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other, she confidently finds her way in this now well-known maze.

At night, she doesn't have to be extra careful about someone noticing her or the song she hums. An unreleased track, self-composed, with lyrics that have meaning to her and the other bandmates. At night, Yunjin is free to sing those words and feel a bit of burden fall from her shoulders.

A gentle breeze makes her blonde hair sway off of her shoulder and the loose jacket flies along with it. Yunjin has to stop in her tracks to adjust the leather garment. It's this time of the year where it's warm enough at night that you don't really need any extra clothes. However, each cold wind reminds Yunjin that it's good to have something on her. She can't allow herself to get sick.

It's also the time of the year where almost every night sky is littered with dazzling stars that dance on their designated spot, billions of miles away. It's a spectacle, each and every single one of them, so similar yet so different. The human eye cannot escape from this beauty, and Yunjin is no different. She stands there, star struck, the white lights dancing on her irises like it’s the parquet of a musical. Yunjin hums the melody to their performance. 

The bushes behind her rustle once. A dark figure shots out from behind them like a lightning bolt. Yunjin gasps and quickly looks behind her shoulder to see a black ski mask right in her face. Her ensuing scream is muted by a cloth forced into her mouth. She tries to escape, but the person is just too fast. Yunjin is grabbed at the top of her dress and forcefully shoved into a nearby wall.

“Money?” the figure asks in a cold, rough tone. Yunjin tenses up when she feels freezing metal run up her exposed thigh. Her eyes tremble in fear, even more so her legs. She is only held upright by the man's hand and his leg trapping her in between dead concrete and death personified. 

The man tears on Yunjin’s dress and groans angrily. Yunjin is too scared to test his patience, so she shakes her head. Her lips lose all their moisture to the cloth in her mouth, but maybe it’s just traveling to her eyes, to her sweat glands and down low.  

“Not even in that bag? Not even at home?” the man continues to ask. He guides the metal object further up, right to Yunjin’s core. A few swipes on her bundle of nerves make the young woman burst out into tears. It’s certainly not a knife that he is holding. The death bringing object right on her most private part makes her flinch, head shaking rapidly. 

The man grabs her face roughly. It’s like a slap he stopped as soon as he felt her skin. It reassures that the cloth won’t fall out of her mouth. The man groans once again. With small kicks against her shoes he forces Yunjin’s feet further apart. He then leans in right next to her ear.

“I know that you know what this is,” he whispers and presses his gun against Yunjin’s pussy, she wails, “and if you don’t tell me where the fuck I can get my money—tell me, or else.”

The flow of Yunjin’s tears is like an endless waterfall. Her hands are pleaing, begging, showing that she has nothing. No possession at hand, no money, maybe the bag is worth something, but the man does not seem interested in that. He wraps one hand around her gentle, fragile throat and slowly pulls out the gun from underneath her dress. She can look right into the barrel. There is a bullet waiting at the back, her name on it. 

This is it. Everything inside her is building up to this moment. Her body reacts the only way it can, the only way it knows how to, the only way she wants to. Instead of the bullet hitting her, the man shoves his knee in between her legs and pushes up. Yunjin screams against the gag, her fingers dig into her attackers back as she starts to pee violently. The clear stream immediately soaks her thin white panties, then runs down her pale, goosebump covered legs and begins to soak her shoes and his pants. The dark spot seems invisible on his dark pants, but he definitely feels and hears Yunjin’s eruption. 

“Bitch, what the—how dare you!” 

The man pulls out his knee and closely watches as the last sprays of Yunjin’s pee cover the dry asphalt below. He doesn’t even notice the gag falling out of Yunjin’s mouth as she makes no attempts to scream for help. She feels like all her dignity is stripped from her and sobs uncontrollably. Snot and salt water with small hints of make-up mess up her beautiful face, but she doesn’t cover it up. She still holds on to the back of this cruel stranger.

“Bitch, you are crazy.”

“Pl-please d-don’t ki-kill me.”

“Shut up,” he snarls and presses his gun against her panties again, “slowly take them off, or else..”

Yunjin’s throat is dry. Her sobs begin to sound like croaks as she leans down and grabs the wet lingerie. In the most embarrassing performance of her lifetime, she drags down her panties, feeling her own clear, barely gold liquid on her skin. She steps out with one leg, then the other, and both times the man kneads her thighs for a short time. Another breeze flies through her hair, but this time she only notices it because of the freezing touch on her wet core.

“Wring it out. With one hand, right onto the street.”

Yunjin closes her eyes as she closes her fist around her panties. They worked like a sponge and now all of her piss shoots out of the gaps in her hand. She is mortified by how the warm liquid feels on her hand. 

“Fuck, you’re insane,” the man says with awe and amusement and grabs Yunjin’s hair. He yanks her across the street, into the bushes where he came from. Behind them is a small patch of grass, where Yunjin is forced to lay down and spread her legs. She whimpers ‘no, no’ repeatedly, but the threat of the gun is right there, in his hand. Now it’s next to her head as he opens his zipper. 

“Pl-please don’t,” she whispers and her fist forms tighter. It draws even more pee from her panties.

“What’s your name?” the man coldly responds, fishing out his hard cock. 

“Yunjin.”

“Do you want to die, Yunjin.”

“No, please, no!”

“Then shut up—and do it again.”

Yunjin has no idea what he meant by this last statement. However, when he shoves his entire, surprisingly large cock inside her hot cunt, she doesn’t even remember it anymore. To pee in front of a stranger was pure horror, but this takes it to another level. If it weren’t for his hand on her mouth, not even the fear of death would have stopped her from screaming at this feeling. Pain, pain that feels great, fantastic, orgasmic even. Yunjin’s head begins to spin and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“Hng, fuck,” the man groans and leans down to Yunjin’s face, “Yunjin, you’re fucking pretty. Great to have met you.”

A sinister laugh as he begins to bite the skin on her cheek and then on her shoulder. It’s not enough to leave marks, but definitely enough for Yunjin to feel something other than the cock hammering her pussy. It’s enormous size and width stretch her out more than any of her toys did before. Her flailing legs begin to go numb.

Suddenly, the man pushes his lip-sealing fingers into her mouth. He plays with her tongue, while hitting just the right spot inside her over and over. As she yelps, Yunjin comes to a shocking realization. The water on her face is not just tears, but also drools from the heavy pounding. Her mind becomes blank every now and then. It feels insane, better than anything she tried before. Something is building up in her lower regions and this filthy criminal gets her filthy pussy closer to another release. 

“Do it again, Yunjin,” he huffs into her face while retrieving his fingers from her mouth again— “I know you’re a kinky slut. Do it, or else.” —and wraps them around her delicate throat. Simultaneously, he begins to make out with her drooling mouth and press down on her throat. Yunjin screams into his mouth. Her body has given up. It’s completely resigned to him, but her mind is tormented by the inevitable. 

He hits the right spot, and her bladder is still so full. No, she can’t let it happen. She’d rather die and drown in her own spit and snot. It’s so humiliating, so bad, but at the same, her dopamine level has never been this high, it’s good. It will happen, it will happen, he just needs to tip her over, please tip me over.

“Or else. Now.”

The moment he stops fucking her tight cunt, Yunjin starts to piss again. A violent, clear stream erupts from her and she waters the grass and bushes around her like a gardening hose. Her hips buckle up, but she doesn’t feel his manhood anymore. She opens her teary eyes and sees the man's cockhead above her abdomen, unloading his warm, sticky semen all over the dress. 

Gooey white and runny light-yellow still shoot out of their bodies, but the two are entangled in a sloppy kiss with no care for the mess they are making on each other and the grass below. This might be someone’s property and they will surely notice. Not that Yunjin really cares, as her tongue is thoroughly sucked on and her limbs feel numb from the pleasure filled violation.

Suddenly, he reaches for the pee-soaked panties in her firm grasp. He guides her pale legs together and forces the undergarment up to her still twitching pussy. Yunjin gasps at the sensation of stained, wet clothing forced upon her. She loves how he continues to rub his thumb on her now covered clit and stares at her face, stupid from his attack. 

“Kinky slut. Now fuck off. No cleaning until your home. Or else.”

#

Quiet. Not a single sound. You’re able to close the door behind you without it creaking. Your wife will probably be asleep by now, but you want to make sure it stays that way. Carefully remove your shoes and sneak over the smooth tiles into the living room. Absolute silence. She is not here. Search in the kitchen, just a light humming of the refrigerator. There is no sound a human would make, until you reach the stairs. 

Wet squelching and soft moans. They get louder with every step you take upwards. You decide to leave the mask on and move faster, still careful to not stir up attention. The sounds of self-satisfaction come from the playroom. Take a look inside and there she is.

Chaewon sits on the couch, panties around her ankles. Three of her fingers slowly move in and out of her pussy as she rubs her clit in circles. She throws her head back against the rest and the moonlight gives you a perfect view of her pleasure ridden face and closed eyes. The squelching gets louder and in between moans, Chaewon forms a clear sentence.

“Yes, fuck her like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Three quick steps and you’re right in front of the half-naked Chaewon. She pulls her fingers out in shock but you replace the emptiness of her hole with yours immediately after. Chaewon gasps as you lean closer to her and pump slowly.

“My wife is a kinky bitch.”

“Sh-shut up.”

“No, you shut up. Keep imagining it. 

How I fuck your friend as she cries and screams. The way her body trembles while you look from the bushes. The way my cock pierces her pussy until she starts to pee all over herself.”

“Fuck!” Chaewon screams out and her body begins to shake.

“You like that? Then cum for me, Chaewon. 

Or else.”

#kpop smut #male reader insert #girl group smut #female idol smut #le sserafim smut #yunjin smut #huh yunjin smut #male reader #male reader smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin smut

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Stress Reliever

Jerome Valeska x Fem! Reader (nsfw)

(2,113 words)

Reader is stressed and hates college. Luckily, Jerome knows how to make you feel a little better.

Warnings/Tags: nsfw (don’t look minors), comfort sex, rough sex (sorta), slight overstimulation (if you squint), nipple play

Notes: this is really self indulgent lmaoo sorry if this is cringe lol

You let out a sigh, shutting your laptop and plugging it in to charge. It was six o’clock and it was already starting to look dimmer outside- not that you could tell because of the rain, anyway. You made your way to your room to change into something more comfortable. You were in such a rush to get most of your assignments done, you didn’t even realize to change out of your cold, rain-soaked clothes. When you reached the doorway, you could already see his unmistakable vibrant orange hair on your bed.

Jerome liked to do that sometimes. He would pop in unexpectedly. At first it freaked you out, wondering how he got in. It was Gotham City after all, and you made sure all your doors and windows were under lock and key and then some. After the first eight times, you learn to get used to it.

“How was school today, dollface? Busy day I assume?” He asked, sitting up. He had that same playful grin that you never tired of. Flicking on the light switch, you turned to him.

“Only had sociology today, but I had a fucking test, hoping to God I didn’t fail.” Slipping your sweater off and leaving your undershirt on, you went to undo your jeans. “Had a shit ton of work to do after though.” Once you got your jeans off, you were left in your underwear. Too tired to put on sweatpants, you just slipped into bed with Jerome, laying behind him as the big spoon. “I’m just glad you’re here though,” you said, nuzzling in between the crook of his neck. “For some reason, you always know to be here at the perfect time.”

“Glad to be of service,” he chuckled. Both of you laid in silence for a moment, just enjoying the presence of one another until he suddenly piped up. “Have things been getting better? Did ya have a better day, I mean?”

“Truthfully Jerome, no.” You didn’t like to lie, you always felt the need to be brutally honest when you could. It made communication a little easier, but when it came to your own vulnerabilities, you would always wish that lying would come easier to you. “I have so much shit to do man, and it just keeps building,” you paused. “I feel like it’s only gonna get worse too, I have one good day and then everything is bad again.” you were terrible at verbalizing your thoughts, and you felt like a child just ranting on to him. “Like, I get one good grade and then I get fifty million other assignments later that are worth a lot and that I’m afraid to fail.” you could feel a quiver in your voice. You hated thinking about school. “Fucking, college.”

“I hate seeing ya upset like this,” you could feel Jerome shifting positions as he turned to face you. His face was close to yours. You could see the scars on his face more clearly now. They moved when you saw a mischievous grin spread across his face. “What if,” he began “I knew a way to get rid of some of that stress for ya?” You could feel his hand ghost up to you shoulder. Physically feeling him made you feel a little better.

“Jerome, if you’re talking about killing my professors, I don’t think it’s gonna do much,” you could feel a slight smile start to form on my face as you huffed out a small laugh. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it, a lot.”

Jerome’s fingers continued to trace across your shoulder and onto your collarbones. He tugged at the sleeves of your undershirt, where you could feel his fingers start to drift to the more sensitive areas on your chest and neck. “That’s not what I mean,” he chuckled darkly. “Well, maybe, if this part of the plan doesn’t work, that is.” You think you could see what he was insinuating now.

You snickered as his touches grew more intimate. “Please,” you began playfully. “Tell me all about this plan of yours,” you drawled.

In a swift motion, that gave you no time to process, Jerome was on top of you and had you pinned down. You couldn’t help but laugh at your predicament.

“There’s that smile I love to see!” He grinned, planting a big kiss on your lips. “And, I didn’t have to resort to tickling ya this time,” he joked while diving into your neck to place several smaller, chaste kisses, making you squirm.

“Try it, and you’ll be coming back from the dead a second time,” you giggled.

Jerome stopped his tickle-kissing assault and turned to whisper in your ear. “I can’t help how sexy it is when ya laugh, doll,” He smirked. You couldn’t help but shudder as you could feel his breath dance along your ear. Jerome’s fingers crept down to your sides, feeling along the fabric of your undershirt. “Well, since ya asked so nicely,” He said with a sly grin. “I plan to make ya cum,” his hand slowly drifted to play with the hem of your underwear. “A lot.” He drew out the last word with a deep, husky tone, staring deep into your eyes.

Jerome let you up, pulling your shirt off over your head before tossing it on the floor along with his, leaving you exposed in your bra. “Besides,” he purred, making his way around you. You whirled your head around to look at him. His eyes were full of mischief and he had that wicked grin that made you fall for him in the first place. “Orgasms are a great stress reliever,” he spread his legs around yours to keep them open. You could feel his erection pressing into your lower back. “That is, unless you want me to?”

“Oh please do,” you said, gently grinding your ass back on his boxers. You gasped as you felt his fingers softly trail up your inner thigh. This is how it always started. Jerome loved to tease. You knew that by the end he would have you screaming, never failing to surprise you in how he does. Jerome’s fingers moved up your thighs and along your underwear. You knew he could feel your growing arousal through the fabric, before giving your sex a quick slap, making you jolt. You could hear a deep chuckle escape his lips from behind you at your reaction. His fingertips found their way to the hem of your underwear, where he slipped in his fingers. You sucked in a gasp when he got to your clit, circling it at a normal pace. The wetness in your core began to pool when Jerome’s other hand snaked its way up to your chest, groping your tits through your bra.

As you felt yourself get wetter, you let out a small whine when Jerome removed his hand from your clit. He brought his full attention to your breasts. Your breath hitched when you felt your hardened nipple in between Jerome’s fingers. You knew you were in for it now. Jerome began feeling you up, pulling the cup of your bra up to play with your nipples. Your eyes closed, overcome with pleasure from his touch. You moved your arms hastily to discard your bra much to Jerome’s pleasure. He knew your nipples were your weak spot and he seemed all too willing to exploit that. Your arm reached up to caress his scarred face, pulling him in to kiss you. Unlike those playful kisses before, this one meant business. You felt your knees grow weaker as Jerome’s deft fingers pinched your nipple, making you moan into the kiss. “…Fuck,” you breathed out.

“Ya like that?” Jerome asked. “Ya like being teased?” His fingers moved back down through your underwear, back to your clit and began to circle it faster. You felt your body shuddering under the pressure. Jerome flicked your nipple, making you jump. You unconsciously bucked into his hand at the sensation. “I’ll take that as a yes,” He chuckled. 

You could feel yourself getting closer now and Jerome knew it too. His quickened pace on your clit never faltered in speed, actually applying more pressure as he heard your breathy moans. “Ya gonna cum?” Jerome asked in a husky whisper.

“…Yes,” you managed to breathe out, as Jerome continued on your clit at his merciless pace. Jerome’s legs continued holding your legs in place as you squirmed in pleasure, your head lolling back into his shoulder.

“Then let it go, doll,” He breathed. Your eyes slammed shut as you whimpered pathetically, letting your orgasm tear through you. Your vision went fuzzy from behind your eyelids as they fluttered open. Jerome slowed down, letting you ride out the orgasm as you let your vision become clear again.

Giving you a moment to collect yourself, you could feel Jerome shift his weight as he moved around from behind you. “I figured if you were having a rough day, I wouldn’t want to be cruel and leave ya on the edge for a while,” Jerome placed his palm over your chest and gently let you fall back on the bed. You stared at the ceiling as Jerome tugged off his boxers, giggling in anticipation as you heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped. Your view of the ceiling was obscured by Jerome, who was on top of you. “There’s always another time for that,” he purred when he finally closed the gap between your mouths. His tongue was forceful and desperate, letting yourself melt into the kiss. You could feel him slide off your underwear and swiftly ease his cock inside of you.

“Jerome,” you gasped out. He moved his mouth down your neck, allowing you to feel every inch of him. He began at a pace quicker than usual. You guess all that teasing did a number on him too.

Your hand found its way up to his deep ginger hair, gripping it in a way you hoped was gentle. Jerome grunted and slowed down, looking at you through hooded eyes in an expression full of lust. “You’re playin’ with fire dollface.” You couldn’t help but return his gaze and stroke his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb along his scarred jawline. Jerome’s mouth attacked yours once again, pushing you further into the mattress. His hands grabbed your hips and began thrusting back into you, harder than before.

Your moans filled his mouth as he continued his relentless pace. “Shit, shit, don’t stop,” you whispered, feeling your orgasm begin to build its way up again.

Whereas you were more quiet in bed, Jerome shamelessly moaned loudly as he let his hips roll over yours. “Oh fuck,” His panting could be heard as he continued to buck into you. “God, I’m so close.” The look in his eyes was pure bliss. The sounds of his grunts and the banging of the headboard echoed across the room.

You could feel the vibrations of your own pleasure reach its height. Jerome’s dick was hitting all the right spots at a pace that made the stars you were seeing explode behind your eyelids. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. “Oh shit, Jerome… Fuck…” was all you were able to muster out as your orgasm ripped through you once again. You were a breathing, moaning mess, literally shaking through the pleasure.

A loud whine erupted from your throat as Jerome quickly and sloppily thrusted into you while you were still sensitive. Jerome’s orgasm came next, feeling him shudder inside you with a harsh gasp. He slowly pulled out and quickly discarded the condom into the small waste basket beside your bed. 

Your heart was beating fast as you took deep breaths in. Jerome laid his head on your chest, nuzzling into you while his spiky hair tickled your neck. You ran your fingers gently through his ginger locks. He chuckled. “That was a pretty big one, huh?”

“Yeah,” you sighed blissfully. “Now that I think about it, I actually haven’t came for a while, I guess stress lowers sex drive.” You ushered Jerome up and brought his lips to yours in a deep kiss. “I will say, I am feeling a lot better now.”

Jerome began tracing your inner thigh. “That’s good to hear,” he smirked, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. Without warning, Jerome slid down in between your legs. “Because we’re just getting started.”

Your cheeks turned red and you let out a snicker at the implication. Sucking in a breath as Jerome’s tongue flicked across your clit, you knew you were in for one hell of a night.

#jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska imagine #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #jerome valeska smut #mia writes gotham!!! #mia writes batman!!!

[e77y]

Long but relatively unserious vent/rant below the cut (sorry I added this in bc I realized how long this post is oops)

Being at the center of some kind of internet witchhunt (which ik is kind of buzzwordy but) is literally my biggest fear ohhh my god. Even a small scale one… I think I would Die. Maybe it’s because I had a similar thing happen with my friend group in high school where one of them convinced the others I was like evil and spread all these rumors about me… 😭 He was splitting on me but still. That’s an explanation, not an excuse. And it basically confirmed all of my intrusive thoughts about myself, and my personality completely self-destructed and changed, and I haven’t interacted with any of those people the same way since. I isolated from them for MONTHS and just loathed myself. Bleh

The reason it’s on my mind is bc I’ve seen this happen to friends and mutuals and even just people I’ve followed in small fandoms, where the whole fandom hates them bc of this little drama and like. I KNOW that fandom drama is not the end of the world, but truly I think that would destroy me for months. And I would never be able to set foot in those spaces again :’) Getting a handful of rude comments about a fucking transfem hc I had at like 14 made me stop writing fanfic for YEARS 😭😭😭 sigh. Just bc they said it was ‘out of character for him to want to be a girl’ 🙄 (<- character who canonically felt confident when dressed as a woman btw. initially for a disguise but then she grew to love it. BUT I DIGRESS KNSHFJW)

All this to say I think that’s why I tiptoe around everything I say online… I am SO scared of ruffling feathers, but I know that fandoms are places for like! Having fun! And it’s not a big deal! And it doesn’t affect my real life! But like idk.. I just hate the idea of being hated by anyone. I’m sure that I ANNOY some people, and that’s whatever; I talk a lot and make overly personal posts sometimes (like this lol) but I don’t wanna be HATED yk? And idek if it’s better to be hated and ostracized publicly or resented in secret by people who still interact with you… :( Agh. If you ever have an issue with me, please DM me instead of letting it build up into something worse!

ANYWAY LIKE.. with fandom stuff. Idk. I want to have fun! I want to write and post things on Tumblr and AO3 etc but I am just very scared of peoples’ opinions, especially now that I have a decently popular/well-liked longfic in DnDads. For some reason I have convinced myself that writing bad or self-indulgent NSFW will make everyone hate me lmao. Like girl the POINT of fanfic is to be self-indulgent……….. sigh I need to get out more

^ light-hearted… but also kinda true haha. I stay at home a lot just bc I don’t have many reasons to go out atm and only a handful of close friends to go out with. Hopefully that will change when I move next semester lol. And whenever I get interests, they’re VERY strong and long-lasting, and fanfic writing is one of my main hobbies, so I get REALLY into online communities. And rn that is kind of my little niche fandom Tumblr bubble… which is embarrassing and probably unhealthy but whatever. I just inevitably get a lot of anxiety about things that are important/fun to me (bc OCD), especially bc I’ve never really had mutuals/‘friends’ in a fandom before this, excluding my irls

Anyway this got longer and more vent-y than I intended so I will tag accordingly, and sorry to whoever is reading this lol; I just wanted to get my thoughts written down in a public forum bc idk… Makes me feel less insane when ik other people can see it, too. Helps me not take it too seriously and spiral lol.

#vent #cw vent #rant #delete later #<- like tomorrow morning I’m shre #usually I delete stuff like this immediately but I’ll try to keep it up #was talking to my mom earlier about OCD and intrusive thoughts and whatnot…. #she definitely has it too. like undoubtedly #her intrusive thoughts and compulsions sounded exactly like mine #which sucks for me bc my dad ALSO definitely has OCD (in a more outwardly recognizable way) so! wahoo! double whammy #just feeling kinda defeated about mental health stuff #I feel like it’s never gonna get better #I need to go to therapy or a psychiatrist or SOMETHING #it’s been like 4 years now since I was originally supposed to go lol #and I keep putting it off out of fear (I think) #my friends (irls) have all been getting diagnoses and prescriptions lately #which is exciting for them but :( idk. I feel like there’s no way to medicate whatever I’ve got going on except SSRIs???? #and I don’t really want that #mostly though I’m just scared of going back to therapy or to a psychiatrist bc I think they’ll think I’m lying or crazy or whatever #which sounds stupid when I write it out but idk #I should probably keep a journal but when I’m only writing for my own eyes I just kinda wallow in it and write concerning poetry lol #I like journaling in a way other people can see (even if y’all DON’T like seeing it lmaoooo) bc it makes it feel more real? #and out of my head.. concrete etc. #wackyposting #<- seriously need to change that tag still lol

[2af-afterdark]

Oof, it's been a hot minute since I've sent you an ask... Sorry 'bout that and also for not sending you any New Year's wishes, irl stuff kept me pretty busy lately. I hope you had fun celebrating! <3

...Admittedly, part of the reason for my absence was that I've also been feeling unpleasantly drained by the Nightmare Pass missions, on top of everything else. I feel a little bad about pretty much coming here and complaining, but I'd like to hear your opinion since you have the Pass activated and I'm f2p, so I wonder how our experiences differ.

I feel like the rewards are.. lackluster, in all honesty. The yellow keys are nice, the frame is pretty... And that's about it. Aside from a small bonus of getting some gems after completing the daily missions, there's really not much to look forward to. It feels like there's far too much effort required and not enough rewards.

Not to mention the missions themselves. God, the missions. I hate the way they work with a passion. The fact that you need to log in daily is fine, the fact that you need to grind a bit is also fine... But then there's shit like "claim a likeability reward" which I'd love to do, except I only have one left over from Andrealphus and still half a Pass to get through. I remember you writing that it feels like being punished for unlocking content, and I completely agree. That's exactly how it feels. I am not going to waste all of my red keys in an attempt to get a new L-grade card since I have all S-grade devils maxed out already.

And speaking of wasting red keys! The "special draw" missions also leave a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. I remember making those single-pulls while sighing deeply because, well, it just doesn't feel like all of the resources I'm consuming are going to be compensated. I spend Solomon's tears, both types of keys, a lot of energy (in-game and irl) and most of the time I get... A few boxes of randomised jellies? That I can get extremely easily through other means? At least make them select-type like the ones in event shops, damn it!

Basically, I'm salty and kind of sad. I love the game dearly, but I think I'm going to give up on the Nightmare Pass. Once I hit a likeability reward mission that I cannot complete, I'm out. The frame is pretty, but getting one from an event shop is going to be way easier and less stress-inducing. I don't want to burn myself out (any more than I already did) by trying to complete it.

So sorry for such a long rant, I ended up getting a bit carried away... I'm really interested in how the effort/reward ratio feels like with a purchased Pass. I'm not really active in the fandom (I pretty much only follow you and the official acc, lol) so I haven't seen people speak about it yet. Hopefully, at least some people have a better time with that hell of an event.

— 💛

So, I used my premium pass from the pre-order rewards on the Nightmare Pass so I could study the way it works from a p2p perspective. I must say, the reward you get in p2p are much better. I received many yellow and red keys, Solomon's Tears, Puddings, Books, Coins, etc. I had unlimited auto-fights in the nightmare dungeon so I can grind coins for the shop easily. Over all, the amount of rewards you get may justify the $60 price tag IF you can afford it and you want the card at the end. Also, this assumes they do this within limited quantities. Like, I would say once every few months at most. Maybe very 2-3 months at most. Still sucks you can only get the card if you're willing to pay out the nose for the rewards. I did look at the f2p rewards and... yeah, not worth it. That is a lot of grinding for very little payoff. I was getting 2-4 reward every day because I was getting the rewards for every tier so it felt more worthwhile.

Also, yeah. I have been playing the game less since the Nightmare Pass started because I was afraid of locking myself out of future requirements for the missions. I had trouble with likability (something I usually max out within 2-3 days of getting a new unit), I was afraid to level up characters and their skills, I wasn't promoting anyone, I wasn't doing anything because I was so afraid I would screw myself by playing the game.

That's why I think Nightmare Pass kind of sucks the most. I felt like I was being punished for having played the game up until this point. Some missions were, as you said, fine. Any missions involving pleasing someone in the Secret Club were fine (not the unholy board because some of those I had maxed out already and it was pain to advance them more). Any missions where I had to fight were good. That I can always do. But missions that have finite end points are terrible (there is a max number of levels characters can have, a max amount of promotions I can do, only so far I can go on an unholy board, likability stops at 100%, characters can only evolve 5 times before they are maxed). Those missions suck because I can screw myself by actually having invested the time into the game before the Nightmare Pass is even out. It actually sucked to basically stop playing this game because I was afraid to play and screw myself out of getting Gabriel.

And the missions are kind of sucky too. Because each stage only unlocks after the previous one is completed, it's hard to know what is coming up and easy to screw yourself. Not everyone has 20ST available multiple times. Not everyone hoards their keys to do the multiple draws over and over again. And having 25 stages that can only be unlocked once daily rather than continuously (since the one mission on each day is to login) it means that if you miss a few days, you are screwed. You can pay to unlock the path with Nightmare Coins, but that assumes you have enough (and each reward gets more expensive as you go).

Overall, Nightmare Pass feels like the kind of event that is aimed toward people who dedicate time to the game to complete the rewards, but those same people can easily get screwed if they put in all that effort too early. The nightmare Pass isn't terrible, but it definitely needs some tweaking. It's the kind of event I would only continue in the future if I really want the card/haven't invested so much I screw myself. Honestly, it feels like the kind of event you finish and only debate purchasing the other rewards after you see how far you've managed to get to see if you can justify the expense.

Also, never feel like you can't rant to me. I rant all the time. Goodness knows I rant all the time... I don't do it because I hate the game. It's me trying to point out issues for others and because I want to see things changed for the better.

#❖ 💛 anon #love letters ❤️ #talkin' whb

[romanticandupsetting]

PLATO KEYCHAIN

kise ryota x gn!reader ; soulmate!au

a soulmate au where your dreams are your soulmate’s memories. also, enemies to lovers.

warnings: reader cusses, like, once , mentions of food , mentions of academic pressure , little blood (a nosebleed is mentioned once) , fainting , kise being dumb

request by @carinacassiopeiae​​:  Hii! Yes please, go write knb fics ahhhh and please tag me!! Umm, for a request, soulmate au with kise?? But like at the start, they're enemies so cue the angst and whatnot, but they find out they're soulmates so yeah thank youu

word count: 3363

this is my first request and first one shot so i got kinda enthusiastic and ended up writing it immediately lol. i try to make the reader gender neutral, unless someone requests me a specific gender so if i accidentally typed a pronoun other than they/them for the reader here, please tell me :>>

Light blue hair.

Ah, you’re having another dream.

Dreams were pretty rare for you these past few weeks―maybe even months―all because studying hindered your sleep, messed with your energy, and you’re too tired to even dream.

But that doesn’t matter right now, clearly your mind feels good enough to show you a story in your sleep.

A tall boy with green hair and glasses took a small wooden box from his school bag.

Oh, his fingers are taped? What a weird guy.

“I wanted to thank you for letting me copy your notebook,” he said. “These are custom-made rolly pencils used as a last resort for tests.”

“Rolly pencils?!”

A cute girl with pink hair accepted them, smiling as she did.

“Custom means you made it yourself?” said your person.

The green-haired boy grins, lifting his glasses. “That’s what giving your utmost best is all about.”

“Nah,” your hand shook, denying what he said. “You put on airs and say all that stuff, but it’s still super lame!”

Who the hell is your soulmate. You can’t tell if he’s funny or mean.

“Ah! There are three of them! I’ll give you one, Tetsu-kun,” the girl said, handing one pencil to a boy with blue hair.

“Oh, are you sure?” asked he.

“Yeah!” the girl nods. “Studying for tests will be tough with a sprained wrist, right? So, it’s a little gift to cheer you on!”

The boy smiles, looking at the pencil. “I’ll take it then.”

You wake up with a sigh.

It was an adorable dream, honestly. You couldn’t help but be happy for your soulmate who had such fun friends.

Well, it was fun while it lasted. You wish you had those kinds of friends. Must be nice…

You shake the dream out of your head and started getting ready for school. You take a glance at your study table, still messy from your nightly study sessions that you force on yourself before you go to sleep. There are even nights when you don’t allow yourself to rest if you didn’t study at least three subjects.

It’s okay, though. Studying is necessary and you should be mature enough to understand and accept that. Yes, be mature, y/n. messing around wouldn’t get you anywhere in life.

You head out, feeling a little relaxed thanks to that one good sleep you’ve had in months.

The sky has the most perfect looking clouds, the wind feels nice as it moves past you, the neighbor’s dog is asleep, you didn’t forget anything at home.

You smile slightly as you walk.

Kise Ryota woke up with heavy breaths.

What was that dream? Oh, god, he just woke up and he’s already sweating.

As he gets dressed in his usual uniform and packed his things, he can’t get that dream out of his head.

No, no, it should be a nightmare, right? Why is that… oh god, I hope they’re okay.

During morning practice he ranted to his friend.

“Isn’t it horrible, Kasamatsu-senpai?” He pouts, sitting on the bench as he wipes his face. “Even Greek philosophers wouldn’t study so much that they’d black out.”

“Since when did you know anything about Greek philosophers?” his senpai spouts.

Kise blinked. Right, since when did he know about those? “Maybe it was in my dream? Oh, there was that one cute Plato keychain my soulmate has…” He smiles dreamily, thinking of how cute the keychain looked. “No, that’s not important! What’s important is that my soulmate had a nose bleed and fainted because they were overworking―oh my god, they could be dead by now!”

“They’re not, you moron. Shut up already.”

In the classroom, you stare at the window past the boy to your left. You know you should be studying right now for your next class but you wanted to tone it down since you were still scared of exceeding your own limitations.

You wouldn’t forget how humiliating that hospital room is. You should’ve known better.

“Staring at me, l/n-chan?”

“Oh, how annoying,” you speak in a monotone voice. “I was admiring how beautiful the view is if only you weren’t there. Mind moving, Kise-kun?” You scowl at him.

“Tsk, tsk, l/n-san you should learn your manners. We’re in high school, we should be mature.” The blond grins, lifting his chin up.

“Huh? What do you know about maturing, you muscle for brains? I don’t think you can even spell that word. You piss me off, could you leave right now piss hair?”

He gives you a dirty look and sighs. “Back then, you avoided me and now you’re bullying me? Aren’t your academics making your head kinda big?”

“Hmm…” you cross your arms. “And what are your idiot brain cells doing? Playing basketball with your brain?”

The science teacher walked in before he could make a comeback.

You turn your back to him, honestly, why the hell is it so upsetting to argue with him?

He’s so irritating.

“I’ll return your pop quizzes now,” the teachers announced as the abundance of sighs mixed together in the classroom.

Your nerves started getting to you. What if you did horribly? What if you answered an obviously easy question wrong? But you study hard every day, there’s no way you could do poorly on such a simple quiz.

You take your paper and sigh in relief that you got a perfect score.

The blonde peeked at your result and pouted. “Perfect, as always.”

You smile at him. “Well, yeah, I’m not you.”

He glares at you. Why did you have to rub it in like that? You’re a genius, he gets it, so what? He scoffs.

“So what if I have low scores? At least I don’t validate myself using high grades,” he mutters.

Oh, but you heard it. God, his voice was so clear in your earshot.

You glare at him, which he felt. You felt anger, rage, hate, vexation, and every other synonym for those words.

How dare he talk about you like that? You never liked him form the start because you thought he was just a dumb jock. You got seated next to each other in class and sure, there was this banter on the both of you and you thought to yourself, it’s pretty cute, maybe he’s not that bad, but how dare he say those words.

It hurts because it’s true but it also hurts because it came from him.

“You wouldn’t understand it, Kise,” you spit out, your voice felt dark and meant for him. “You’re talented.”

It hurts.

Chest feeling empty and tears threatening to pour out, you both avoided looking at each other.

As you walk home, the sky still had the most perfect looking clouds, the wind cool as it blows past you, the dog is quietly wagging its tail in the front yard, and you didn’t forget anything.

You don’t feel good anymore.

There was a bitter taste in the back of your throat, your legs feel sluggish, and your bag feels a little heavier that it did this morning. You should study as soon as you get home, snacks are irrelevant as of now. So long as you don’t faint, you’re good.

The next morning, you wake up not caring about the fact that you didn’t have a dream.

Kise took a glance to his right, seeing you quietly study during break time. Were you not going to mock him as usual? You’re not even heading out to buy a snack or a drink.

Was it his fault?

Maybe what he said was too far.

Honestly, the daily arguments with you always felt so bittersweet. He looked forward to talking to you during breaks even if all that talking are just petty fights. He wished it was different, that you both would talk to each other about your day or how you’re craving for a certain item at the cafeteria, but no.

He just has to fight back like that every single time and look where it led him.

Kise remembers the dream he had.

Oh god, he feels even worse about it now. What if that was also how you act behind closed doors? No, wait…

You act like that even when you’re right beside him.

Always studying, not even taking a snack break, hell―you’re doing it right now.

He tries looking at you discreetly.

Did you get thinner? No, he’s imagining it. You don’t look well but you don’t look sick.

At least, not yet.

Kise is scared but as he was punching himself in his mind, he took notice of your open bag and his eyes―usually playful, fun, with a soft gaze, only serious when he’s playing basketball―went wide. He exhaled sharply, trying to look calm. He shouldn’t bother nor alarm you but you…

Your Plato keychain.

He placed his arms on the table and buried his head in it, biting his lower lip harshly just to stop whatever noise he’ll make that would signify his desperate need to stop himself from crying.

He’s going to apologize―

 ―is what he thought but Kise Ryota has no idea how. He, or his friends, never truly apologized for what happened in middle school, and he’s not even familiar with this kind of feeling because he never really gets into emotional quarrels.

He’s actually thinking now. So that’s why your arguments felt so bittersweet.

L/n-chan’s my soulmate and I… I did that.

He failed you.

“Kise, what are you doing?! Stand up already!”

The sounds of his teammates and coach calling for him felt like background noise at this point.

Ah, he’s thinking too much, his brain is gonna hurt.

“And what are your idiot brain cells doing? Playing basketball with your brain?”

Kise clearly remembers your sneer as you said that.

He should really get on the court now but how in the world is he going to confess to you when all he’s ever experienced is being confessed to? If that’s not enough of a challenge, you literally hate him right now.

You look at the time on your phone.

6:01 AM

Gosh, you forgot to sleep.

You honestly feel so tired but that doesn’t matter right now. You need to do better. You need to do so much better so that stupid dumb blonde can’t even speak in your direction anymore.

You need to be better than him. You have to beat the audacity that his talents gave him. It’s fine if you don’t play basketball but you are going to have to be better than him in everything else. As for now, nothing matters but making him shut up.

So you walk to school not noticing the weather or the dog.

Kise fidgets in his seat. He’s imagined the scenario a million times in his head now.

He can do it. The technique is to strike first.

But when he saw you walk inside the classroom, his face felt frozen.

You look so tired.

Did you even sleep? Why are you… it’s his fault. It’s his fault, oh my god, shame on him. He’s going to talk to you now.

“L/n-chan!” he exclaims as soon as you take a seat, making you jolt on your chair. He faces you with a serious expression. Good, you’re looking at him, even if you’re looking like he’s an ugly blob fish that your uncle brought home after a long day of fishing. It’s fine. He has your attention.

“I’m challenging you to a battle!” He points his finger at you. “In the next two weeks, I’ll beat your scores in the exams.”

Ha?

What is he talking about? God, he really is arrogant. Defeat you? Your scores? In the exams? It’s like he knew that you wanted to shut him up and is now wanting to make you shut up.

You glare at him.

His whole-body freezes but recovers immediately.

Why did he say that?! Wasn’t he supposed to apologize and confess to you? Oh my god, Ryota, how in the world are you so famous with girls?

He clears his throat. “I-I won’t lose so… there!” And immediately turned his back to you.

If I win, I’ll tell them how I feel.

Oh, but he has to study now.

But just to make sure, he grabbed his phone from his bag and sent an email to his friend.

‘Kurokocchi can I please please borrow your rolly pencil next next week?? >.<’

Thank god his friend agreed after three days of him begging because there was no way in hell Midorimacchi would lend him his.

Despite the rolly pencil, he still studied his hardest for the remaining days even during his break time in practice. Kasamatsu didn’t have the heart to kick him for it because it was shocking to his friend studying no matter how many times he saw it.

You slouched as you deadpanned the big poster revealing everyone’s exam results.

Of course he didn’t defeat you―actually, he wasn’t even close.

You were at first place and he was at 29.

Now, where was the idiot who decided to challenge you? Ah, he’s behind the tree.

You stare at Kise, waiting for him to reveal himself but he didn’t. He stayed behind that tree and was late on 4th period.

When lunch time arrived, you smiled. “Congratulations on 29th place, Kise-kun.”

He felt like crying but his lips remained in a pout as he ate his lunch. Kasamatsu might look for him right now because he’s been slacking with practice but he doubts his senpai would go out of his way during lunch.

“I really thought you had some sort of genius hiding in that skull of yours. Is all that’s in there is a deflated basketball?” You mocked a laugh. “It must be, it even suits your posture right now.”

He kept blinking, trying to block your mocking voice.

Why the hell do you sound so sweet? He knows he lost but right now he’s honestly just feeling so giddy that you’re talking to him, though upset that you’re still making fun of him as always.

Maybe he should just be the dumb guy if it means you’re going to talk to him again, though.

Well, he is the dumb guy.

“I swear, if you hate me, just say it to my face. You don’t have to go to such drastic measures―”

“L/n-chan, I like you! What are you talking about?!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. You thought he hates you? Why would you think that? “Even if all we really do is fight, I absolutely adore you! I didn’t really get it myself at first but the more I tried to think, the more I realized how much I like you.” He sniffles.

“Fucking pardon?” Kise flinches. Why does your voice sound like that? He thought even if you didn’t like him very much, the fact that your soulmates would at least make your reaction a little nicer. Why do you sound so angry?

The nerve! Oh my god, for how long could his arrogance make him live in this earth? Surely, he must be running out, right? But he said he likes you and he sounds like he means it.

Who cares? He’s pompous, stupidly tall, and just overall stupid! How dare he challenge you only to then declare his feelings after losing?

Do jocks really not have any manners?

But you wouldn’t deny that it felt nice to hear his feelings for you.

Just maybe…

“‘At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet’,” you recite. “Plato once said that.”

“Huh?”

“But clearly, you can’t be one even if you’re in love,” you sigh. “Denied.”

“Huh?”

Who are you kidding? Even if, let’s say, he’s your soulmate, you wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with a man who can’t even get to the top ten in the charts.

“L/n-chan?”

You give him a sharp glare. “You’re really expecting me to be all blushy and kind just because you said you like me? You must be kidding. Aren’t you supposed to beat me first before you confess your feelings?”

He blinks, then he blinks again.

And again.

And again.

“T-then…” Stupid Ryota! You should’ve known this is how they are! They literally tease you whenever they look at your direction and does nothing else, of course this won’t be easy! “could you help me out?”

You chuckled. “Now you have the nerve to make me help you? What chivalry!”

You relax in your seat, still facing the flustered blonde, not removing the smirk on your face. “But, well… can you even keep up with me?”

The fact that he reached 29th place is nowhere near impressive for you but the improvement of his scores is definitely noticeable. This guy usually fails all his exams.

His face brightened.

“What? Too much of a dummy to speak?”

“I’ll follow you forever y/ncchi!” he beams. “I promise I’ll do my hardest even if all you do is teach me while mocking me―”

“Kise!” The booming voice of his senpai suddenly shook him out of his lovesickness.

“Uh―Kasamatsu-senpai?! Why…?”

“Exams are over so you can practice now, right…?”

Oh god, he can feel his senpai’s anger to the point that Kise’s considering jumping out of the window.

He looks at you, readying his pouty face so that you’d help him only to see your sneering face. “Oh my, oh my, you should go talk to your teammate, Kise-kun~”

Should’ve known you’d react like this.

“Yes, senpai!” the blonde huffs and jogs toward his upperclassman.

“Say y/ncchi,” Kise spoke as he takes your bag. “Can we stop by somewhere? It won’t be far, I promise.”

“Where is it?” you ask. “It’s only been two days and you already want to take me somewhere?” You grin as you wiggle your eyebrows.

He laughs. “It’s not like that―”

“At least take me to dinner first, honestly, how are you so popular with girls? Is the only requirement being an athlete and a model?” you grumble while crossing your arms.

He smiles softly at you. It’s honestly funny how you both still get into petty arguments but instead of that bittersweet feeling, he’s now really happy to have a nonsensical banter with you.

“I swear, my intentions are pure.” He raises his right hand to a salute and continued on walking with you. “I just have to return something to a friend.”

You hum in response.

“Ah, but if you want, we could stop by for dinner,” he mumbles, looking down while playing with his fingers. “I mean… if you want to, of course, but if you wanna go home that’s totally fine too!”

“Oh, but I have to study today,” said you. You took a peek at his expression and it was obvious that he was about to pout but is stopping himself from doing so. “Kidding,” you giggle.

He softly chuckles. “Well, let’s go now.”

“Are you sure I can wait beside you?” you mumble.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Kurokocchi wouldn’t mind meeting you―”

“Good afternoon,” a soft voice suddenly greets.

Blue hair?

“Kurokocchi! Here’s your rolly pencil,” Kise chimed, handing him the pencil. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

��It’s no problem. Did you get the perfect score you were aiming for?” the boy, ‘Kurokocchi,’ asked in which the blonde sighs.

“No, but I have y/ncchi helping me study now!” Your friend smiles, pulling you closer to him by your shoulder. “This is l/n y/n-chan, y/ncchi, he’s Kuroko Tetsuya-kun.”

“It’s nice to meet you, l/n-san,” the boy greets.

“Yes, nice to meet you too, Kuroko-kun…”

Tetsuya-kun…

“It’s nice meeting the both of you but I’ll be going now. I’ll see you both some time.”

“Yeah,” Kise nods. “Let’s hang out sometime with Midorimacchi!”

The blue haired boy smiles and nods as he walks away.

You stare at that shade of blue until he slowly disappears in the distance.

“Hey, Ryota-kun,” you call.

“Hm?” he looks at you, you look back.

“Are we soulmates?”

“Huh?”

“It’s just… that Kuroko Tetsuya-kun and the rolly pencils…”

“Huh… so that’s what you dreamed about me?”

“What? You know? That we’re soulmates―wait, we’re actually soulmates?”

He blinks. “Did I not tell you?”

#knb x reader #knb angst #kise angst #kise ryouta #kise ryota x reader #kise x reader #kise ryōta #kuroko no basket #kuroko's basketball #knb fluff #knb fanfic #knb one shot #kise fanfic #kise fluff #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #but they're not dating yet #this is kinda long #should i post this on ao3 lol

[erosofthepen]

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.”  Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia. 

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

#fili #fili x reader #letters from amad #letters from amad part 2 #the hobbit #kili #dís #thorin #dwalin #fili x y/n #dwarves #dwarrow #the hobbit fanfic #fili fanfic #fili fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #ish?? #tw storms #tw blizzards #tw injury #tw hypothermia

[rainguk]

perfect pitch | ksj

⁕ summary; your stand partner this year is, to put it simply, insufferable. with a rare sense of perfect pitch and a stunning face to boot, this boy's ego is absolutely off the charts... but you'd be lying if you said you didn't care about him anyway.

⁕ pairing; seokjin x reader

⁕ rating; pg-13

⁕ words; 3.9k

⁕ genre; crack, fluff - stand partners idiots to lovers (with a lil bit of enemies in there), high school au, orchestra au

⁕ warnings; swearing, threats but like nothing violent happens LOL, seokjin's sense of humor: there's like one mildly inappropriate joke (i'm sorry bach), super cliche rain scene i apologize

⁕ notes; this is based off of infuriatingly true events in my life because people with perfect pitch just LOVE flexing it like i'll drop my fork on the table and my friend's just like "oh wow that was a B flat" aaaaggghjsdjsdf anyways... i had a lot of fun writing this and i'm nearing the end of another longer fic i'm writing so please look forward to that :D hope you enjoy!!! + if you ever want me to tag you in my fics just let me know and i will <3 plus this is unedited and disgustingly cringy as it nears the end so read at your own risk

⁕ tags; @imdamconfused @sunghoonight-x @iminchaosnow

⁕ song; butter (bts)

masterlist

You’re teetering dangerously on the edge, a mere few seconds away from stabbing your stand partner in the eye with whatever you can use as a weapon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokjin cuts into your murderous thoughts, alarmed. “You look… truth be told, Y/N, you look like you want to kill someone.”

“If you don’t shut up about how flat my A is, that someone might just end up being you.”

“How romantic.”

Your bow slides off your violin with a cadence of squeaky notes. “Can you at least stop flirting with me while I’m trying to tune this thing?!”

He smiles, a bright, brilliant thing that shows off all his perfect teeth. You swallow, heart suddenly racing a thousand times faster; it’s no secret that Kim Seokjin is probably the biggest pain in the neck you’ve ever met, but it’s also true that he is insanely good-looking. And you’re not about to deny it.

“You like it, though.”

Well, shit.

“Not everyone’s head over heels in love with you,” you retort, trying desperately to throw him off your trail. You know what happens with popular kids like him; once it’s known that you have a soft spot for them, everyone pounces on you, bombarding you with questions and snide remarks and rumors.

Of course, it’s complicated — because how on earth could you want to rip off someone’s head and kiss them at the same time?

But you tell yourself that it’s only because he looks like that; not because he easily gets you to laugh like it’s nobody’s business, and certainly not because he looks out for you in the littlest ways; leaving his rosin out on the stand for you to use and lending you a pencil when you need one.

Kim Seokjin is an insufferable little shit, yes. But he’s a friendly insufferable little shit. And you would honestly be so down to hang out with him and get to know him better, save for one little thing that’s been getting in your way.

His perfect fucking pitch.

Being stand partners with someone naturally gifted with such a sense is both a blessing and a curse. Countless times, Seokjin has saved your ass from being questioned by Mrs. Choi by letting you know silently that you’re a little too sharp, or playing in the wrong key entirely. (That last one has happened before.) Sometimes you can’t hear Namjoon, the principal violinist, too well from where you’re seated, so you’ve relied on Seokjin on many occasions to tune your strings correctly.

However, it irks you equally as much when he uses it against you, stopping you mid-piece to let you know that your C# sounds more like a D to him. No one’s perfect, and certainly not you — but you try, and to be shot down every single time by someone who thinks it’s absolutely funny to watch you repeatedly attempt to fix your pitch issues is purely exhausting.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“What?” you demand, sighing as you turn to him.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“No—”

“Why did Bach have twenty children?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god—”

He continues anyway, ignoring your plea with that mischievous grin, “Because he had no organ stops!”

Seokjin is trying his best not to laugh at his own joke, shoulders shaking at the punch line. You can’t help it yourself, a giggle bursting out of your own chest as you cover your mouth.

“That was horrendous,” you tell him once you catch your breath again. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Oh, worry not,” he proclaims, smiling widely, “I can do far better.”

“Wait, no—”

“What tone does a piano falling down a mineshaft make?”

You furrow your brows, thinking. “I don’t know,” you shake your head after a few seconds. “What is it?”

“A flat minor.”

Your jaw drops open as you process it, and Seokjin just watches you in amusement. “You should be banned from making these kinds of jokes,” you tell him. “Seriously.”

“Admit it, I’m hilarious,” he counters. “I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

He did, you’ve got to acknowledge. He always does, in some way, now that you think about it. Whenever you end up coming to rehearsal in a bad mood, it’s always because of Seokjin that you leave the auditorium with a smile on your face.

The realization startles you like nothing else — you hadn’t known before that he played such a role in your daily life.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he starts again, “We have a concert tonight.”

“Yeah…” You turn to him, eyebrow raised. “You forgot about the biggest performance of the year?”

Seokjin nods, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. My bad. You’re coming, right?”

“Duh,” you reply, fishing a block of rosin out of your case. “It’s almost half of my grade; no way I can skip. Besides, I like performing.”

“You do?”

“What are you so surprised for?” you ask him playfully. “I do enjoy it. I might not be good — not as good as you — but I like it. I like playing together with everyone, being able to hear every other part fit in with mine perfectly.” You frown. “Now if you asked me to play solo, I wouldn’t do it for anything in the world. Ensemble performances are far better.”

“You’re good,” Seokjin says quietly, looking at you — it’s like he’s taking you in, letting his eyes linger on you for a little while longer. “Don’t think that you’re not. You sound nice, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze for several breathless seconds before scoffing, turning away. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t need empty compliments fr—”

Your bickering is cut short by Mrs. Choi walking onstage, a stack of sheet music in her hand which is promptly handed to Namjoon for him to distribute to the entire orchestra. You don’t offer your usual smile when he gives you two, and it’s with an impassive expression that you hand the extra to your stand partner.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maybe you’ve made it more awkward between you two — but what else could have happened? Had you been hoping he’d magically fall in love with you and kiss you and you would have gone on dates?

No, of course not. This is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about; and besides, no matter how much you manage to soften up to him one moment, he’ll immediately make you want to murder him the next.

“Hey, Y/N… um — your D is just, you know, a little bit sharp—”

“Kim Seokjin, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You, my dear, are just overcomplicating this for yourself,” Taehyung declares after listening to you rant about your problematic stand partner over lunch. “What’s the issue? You like him — don’t you shake your head at me, Y/N, you’re as obvious as an open book — and he clearly likes you. Why don’t you just date him?”

“It’s not that simple,” you grumble, brutally stabbing another piece of chicken. “I can’t just walk up to him and ask him out, Tae. Plus, he doesn’t like me, he just likes flirting with everyone he lays his eyes on.”

“From what you’re telling me, it sure does sound like it.”

“Taehyung…”

“Come on, you can’t possibly be that clueless, Y/N.”

“No,” you insist. “He’s a pain in the ass, and he enjoys getting a rise out of me, and he flexes that dumb pitch power of his whenever he can.”

“But you like him...”

“You’re not helping!”

This is where Jimin decides to intervene, tired of your back and forth arguing. “She has a point, Tae. But,” he says to you. “He’s also right. You need to take some kind of action.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Taehyung claps his hands, a telltale sign of a new idea. “Flirt back!”

“Okay, absolutely not—”

Jimin grabs you suddenly, shaking your shoulders. “Wait, think about it!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “It can work! That way you can see if he actually does like you, and you won’t publicly embarrass yourself by confessing to him, either!”

“On second thought, I’d have preferred to see the public embarrassment—”

“Shut up, Tae, you’re just making her feel worse!”

That makes you laugh; contrary to Jimin’s statement, your best friends certainly have succeeded in making you feel just a little bit better.

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” you tease. “Maybe I owe him a dose, actually, because I’ve seen firsthand a particularly painful confession back in n—”

“Y/N! Don’t you dare bring that up!”

Amidst the chaos of Taehyung screeching while trying to attack you with a spoon and Jimin holding him back, someone taps on your shoulder lightly; a momentary distraction from this madness, if you will.

“Oh. You,” you respond when greeted with the gently smiling face of Kim Seokjin. “Did you need anything?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, instead showing you his closed fist. “Wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s another one of my strings that you’ve borrowed and also broken, then you can keep it, thanks.”

Seokjin shakes his head, chuckling. “Not that, Y/N. I always throw out the strings I break; don’t worry. I just thought you should have this.”

With that, he places a small wooden box on your lunch bag — at a closer look, you realize it’s a block of rosin. Brand new, too, by the looks of it — when you take off the bright blue lid, there are no scratches on the surface, no sign of wear and tear.

“For me?” You look at him, surprised to be met with a rather fond gaze you’re not used to. “Why?”

“Noticed the one you had was basically falling apart,” he says nonchalantly, attempting to mask the slight tremble in his voice and the blush on his cheeks. “I mean, come on — how are you gonna keep your bow in good shape with those tiny chunks of this stuff?”

“Oh,” is all you can reply, staring at the gleaming black cube in your hand. “I — thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” He’s back to his bright, grinning self again, all self-confidence and smug smiles. “See you tomorrow,” he tells you, before waving to your friends. “Have a nice lunch, guys.”

It takes Jimin and Taehyung precisely fourteen seconds after Seokjin leaves for his own table to lose their shit.

“Was he looking out for you?”

“Did he actually just give you a new block of rosin?!”

“And you still don’t wanna date this guy?”

“You guys are violinists! Gifting each other supplies is basically your love language!”

You fidget with the rosin, smoothing your thumb over the lid. “No, that’s just how he is,” you defend. “He always lends me rosin when I need it.”

“And you always lend him extra strings,” Taehyung says, a teasing smile on his face. They’re kind of right, you realize when you think about it. Never has Seokjin actually given you a block to keep, and though you might be overestimating the significance of the gesture, it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

“Okay, anyways,” Jimin changes the topic, “How are we feeling about tonight’s concert?”

“I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “We’ve got everything under control — Mrs. Choi was afraid the cellos would screw up their solo section, but they managed to pull it together today and they sounded great.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Taehyung sighs. “Not when the tenors keep screwing up their long note—”

“That wasn’t me! That was Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yeah, sure—”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Come on, we are not arguing about this right now. I’m sure you guys will sound fine, you always do. Plus, Jeon has a really sweet voice.”

“I guess so,” Taehyung shrugs. “But I think the highlight of tonight is going to be Y/N getting to see her guy all dressed up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No!” You exclaim a little too quickly, cheeks red. “Why would you say something like that?!”

“Because you’re whipped for him—”

“I am most certainly not—”

Jimin laughs out loud, almost toppling off of his chair. “You know, Y/N, we might have believed you if you weren’t redder than a fucking tomato right now—”

“PARK JIMIN! NOT YOU TOO!”

As luck would have it, you’re a solid ten minutes late.

Call time was at six o’clock, and here you are; slamming the car door shut as you wave a hasty goodbye to your father and run to the main entrance, all the while trying not to get drenched in the rain.

(Your folder and the music inside it are probably already soaked, but that’s an issue for another time.)

You hurry down the stairs, pushing the double doors open with a quick apology to Mrs. Choi, who gives you a stern look but says nothing else. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you slide into your seat, already unlatching your case.

“You’re late.”

You twist your neck to give your stand partner a blank stare. “I’m aware.”

“You look really nice,” he blurts out next, blinking faster than usual.

“Thanks?” You try and laugh it off, fastening your shoulder rest to the back of your violin. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just a flowy black dress with your hair tied back, but his remark renders you speechless for a split second “So do you.”

You manage to compliment him nonchalantly, but your heart is beating twice as fast, eyes admiring his parted, fluffy hair, the white dress shirt impeccable on his figure. And his lips…

Shit. You really are down bad, but you don’t have time to dwell on it — Mrs. Choi is starting the last piece already, and you’re scrambling to have your instrument ready by the time the first violins start with their little intro.

Seokjin laughs at you quietly, but inhales sharply when you start to rosin your bow hair. “You kept it,” he says softly, nodding at the block in your hands.

“Yeah,” you swallow, suddenly self-conscious. “I did.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I’m not that ungrateful,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “Of course I kept it, Seokjin.”

“Jin.”

“Huh?”

“Jin,” he repeats, flicking a strand of chestnut hair away from his eyes. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“Since when am I your friend?”

“Would you rather not be?”

“Would you rather be?”

Seokjin — Jin, rather — frowns down at you. “Stop asking questions to my questions!”

“You did it first!” you exclaim, laughing. “Hypocrite! Answer mine, then!”

He looks at you for a long moment, like he’s taking his sweet time choosing the right words to say to you. “Since now,” he decides finally, firmly. “You are now. I want you to be mine. My friend,” he clarifies, turning deep red as he says it.

“I thought you hated me,” you muse. “And I was pretty sure you thought I was the lamest kid ever because I couldn’t play a single thing right.”

“Of course not,” Jin shakes his head vehemently. “You’re cool, Y/N. A little tone deaf, but cool.”

“Take that back!”

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth,” he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You send him your best glare, but contrary to your facial expression, it’s nice to laugh with him like this. You’ve been so caught up with telling yourself that you shouldn’t be feeling anything but annoyance when you’re around him that you ignored your blossoming feelings, and now they’ve fully bloomed, leaving no room for that initial irritation you so often experienced.

Friends. It’s not what you most want, but it’s something. You could get used to that.

The concert goes smoothly, and the choir performances were absolutely delightful to watch — but your father is late, again, which means you’re stuck waiting for him out in the rain that hasn’t let up for hours.

You’re about to call him for the fifth time in ten minutes when you hear a set of heavy footsteps behind you, running up the stairway. “Y/N!”

“Jin?” you ask, surprised by the boy making his way toward you, brown hair completely soaked. “What are you doing out here?”

“I lied,” he says breathlessly, like he’s in a rush, and if he doesn’t tell you now, he might never be able to. “I’m sorry, I — I lied, Y/N. I don’t want you to be my friend — God, I don’t think I could live with that. I want you to be more.”

“Jin—”

“I just,” he exhales forcefully, “I want to be able to take you out and hold your hand and hug you and kiss you—”

When your mind finally clears up, you don’t let him finish his sentence, instead grabbing his collar and yanking him down so you can press your lips to his in one swift motion. A quiet gasp leaves his mouth, but he quickly adjusts to the situation, hands dropping his violin so he can gently cradle your face, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. It’s all happening so fast that you barely even have time to think, to properly take it all in.

His lips are cold due to the nasty weather, and you’re both sopping wet — and this is most definitely the worst setting for this to have happened, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“That,” Jin breathes when you finally let him go, pupils dilated, “that was—”

“My first,” you finish. Your prior courage all gone, you’re a bit nervous now, too embarrassed by your bold move to even meet his eyes. What were you thinking? “I-I’m sorry...”

“Sorry?” Jin asks, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“You know, because… of that.” You can barely speak up, cheeks burning. “I-I don’t know why I did that. Is this — is this a prank or something? Did you plan this? Was I just supposed to laugh it off and threaten to take your eye out with my bow instead?”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, laughing. “Can’t you tell, Y/N?” He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper. “I like you, you idiot. Ever since you waltzed into the auditorium sophomore year and nearly broke your violin falling down the stairs, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You… you like me?” you ask incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. “Like, for real? You’re not just pulling my leg like you usually love to do?”

“I meant what I said, Y/N,” he tells you softly, fingers intertwined with yours. His voice is genuine, soothing. “I want to do all those things with you, if you’ll let me.”

It takes you a while to reply, but when you do, your heart is pounding so loudly in your chest that you can barely hear yourself. “A-And if I said yes?”

A wide grin breaks out onto Jin’s face as he pulls you into a hug, both your instruments forgotten on the pavement and your head resting on his chest as he holds you close. A few days ago, you would have thought yourself a fool for even thinking that a day like this would ever come; yet here you are, all those daydreams come true.

It’s all so new to you, and you’ll most likely screw up along the way — multiple times. But hand in hand with Jin and his vexing ability to pick out a B from a B flat, things aren’t looking so bad.

You’ll work it out.

Hanging out with your friends is always a chaotic (but fun) occurrence — but when you add your boyfriend’s buddies into the mix, it all goes down to shit.

Actually, it’s all his fault, if you really think about it. Why on earth did he think challenging Taehyung to a baking competition was even remotely close to being a good idea?

“That’s so not fucking fair!” the aforementioned best friend cries, angrily shaking a spatula at a playfully grinning Jung Hoseok. “You can’t just hide the bag of flour! I fucking forgot to put it in!”

“Nothing we can do about it now, Tae,” Jimin sighs, massaging his forehead as the three of you stare at the burnt, soupy mass your team has created. “We fucking lost, that’s it.”

“So,” Jin smirks mischievously, nudging your elbow. “I guess Hoseok and I win this one, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you shove him back, though you’re grinning; a plate with a slice of his impeccably made cake in your hands and a fork lifted to your lips. “You’re good at this and you know it. I knew from the start that you were just trying to fuck around with Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Your evil, demonic, deceptive, satanic boyfriend—”

“Nice vocabulary,” Hoseok comments without looking up, and you’re sure he’s on your best friend’s hit list at this point.

“Well — anyways, he’s out to get me,” Taehyung continues, frowning. “I feel attacked.”

“Yeah, okay, keep saying that several years from now when you’re sitting in a church and Y/N’s walking down the aisle,” Jimin says nonchalantly, causing you to choke on your cake in complete shock.

“What the heck — we’re literally eighteen! You can’t — you can’t just say things like that!” you exclaim indignantly, fork clattering against your empty plate. Jin grins widely all of a sudden, tapping your shoulder all of a sudden.

“Jagi.”

“Hmm?” You turn to him, momentarily forgetting how flustered Jimin’s comment made you feel.

“That was a really nice C# just now…”

Your mouth drops open as you gape at your boyfriend; part of you wants to cry and part of you wants to laugh. You knew when you agreed to make it official that somewhere along the line, you’d have to deal with these kinds of things, but now that it’s actually happening…

You turn to Jimin, patience already running thin from Jin’s antics (actually, you secretly love it, though you’ll never admit it to his face.)

“And you have the audacity to suggest that I’ll actually get married to this man?”

“Y/N? Honey, wake up. I… I just realized something.”

“Oh — Jin? What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. You know, I was thinking about it, and I realized that...” Your husband bites down on his lip hesitantly, glancing down at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“Yeah?” you press, curious.

“When Aera cries — you know, when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs,” he smiles fondly. “It’s always — she always cries in either F# or C#. It’s,” he looks like he’s nearing tears, “the D major key. Y/N, she literally cries in D major. I’m—”

You sigh, smiling amusedly to yourself as you snuggle up to him for extra warmth, holding your baby close. Leave it to none other than Kim Seokjin to analyze his daughter’s pitch — isn’t that part of the reason why you fell in love with him, anyway?

Life with Jin is many things — a chaotic mess that includes the constantly screaming light of your lives, three pandemoniac best friends, and far too many notes for you to keep track of. And though sometimes you want to chuck a blue-lidded block of rosin at his head to shut him up, you’re more than ready for it all.

— feedback/questions/just wanna chat?

thank you for reading perfect pitch! ♡

#applejinie #seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin one shot #jin x reader #jin fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts one shot #rainguk #jin high school au #bts high school au #bts orchestra au #violinist!jin

[honeybbyfics]

can you do an angst-smut idk lol. Like one where you tsukishima out and he says yes, then one day you overhear him telling yamaguchi that he only said yes to you bc you were pretty had a nice body and you weren’t hot and he just wanted to get in your pants, then you confront tsukishima about it which turns into hate seggs with him saying something like I finally got what I want and him just degrading her😏

Okay so I kind of spent a LONG time on this so it’s really long but the prompt was too good I had to go off okay anyways here it is pls enjoy. 

CW: DEGRADING BIG TIME, cumplay, angst, NSFW obv. 

                What I Wanted Tsukkishima Kei x F! Reader

You were headed toward your new boyfriend, Tsukkishima Kei when you decided to standby, listening to what he had to say to his best friend. 

“I’m just saying Tadashi- she’s really not that good looking. She just has one hell of a body.”

“That’s fine Tsukki, but you shouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t actually like her and that’s just so mean of you to-”

“Shut up.” 

“Sorry, Tsukki”

This scene replayed in your head for a week, the fact that the guy you’ve liked for months is seriously only dating you for your body. You finally decided that if it was eating away at you so intensely, you should speak up. You open your phone to send him a message. “hey baby, there’s something i really want to talk to you about, could you come over please?” 

“That’s fine. I’ll head over in a little bit.”

This was the perfect time to let him know how you really felt, how hurt you were, and how much of a total dick he was. Your parents weren’t home, so it would be just the two of you, alone. Your mind wandered for a bit on what possibilities the night could hold. You quickly snapped yourself out of it. The whole reason he was coming over was so you could talk about how that’s NOT okay. You quickly put on a nice outfit, some makeup and anxiously waited for his arrival. 

Your doorbell rang, as you opened the door, he peered down at you from the doorway. “He’s so tall…” You thought to yourself. 

“Oh, hey Tsukki. Let’s just go to my room”

Your heart was beating through your chest. Maybe your best bet was to just forget it and hang out with your boyfriend. “No, I have to do this.” you thought to yourself. He followed you down the hall to your room.

The two of you sat on your bed.

“I’m just going to get straight to the point” you sputter out, followed by a deep breath and heavy sigh. “I heard you talking with Yamaguchi the other day. I know you only want me for my body! I can’t believe you could be so disgusting! And to think that I seriously liked you. And thought you liked me back! All for this to go to shit, and you to be a total asshole like every other guy I’ve met! You’re so-” Your rant was quickly interrupted with a firm face grab. “Did you expect anything else from me, sugar? Did you seriously think that anybody would like you for anything else besides your body?”

You wanted to protest, or blow up in his face, or do anything but your current reaction. You sat squirming in your spot, and the further he moved his fingers toward your mouth, the more you felt the pool in between your thighs soaking through your thin underwear. You quickly snapped out of it and pushed him away. 

“Seriously shut the hell up. I’m not letting you drop my self worth to nothing more than a pair of tits and ass.” “You’re not?” he snarkily replied. 

“Oh my fucking god. I’m done with you. Get the fuck out.” You stand up, but are immediately yanked back down by the tall blonde. 

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, y/n. Aren’t you just the slightest bit curious about what it would be like?” You slowly sit back down and he begins to trail his fingers up and down your arms, sending chills down your spine. “All I’m saying is if you want to, I want t-” You cut him off immediately by kissing him furiously. You run your fingers through his hair, and give it a small tug when he starts running his hands down your body. 

The two of you lay down, and he lays down, pulling you on top of him. At this point you’re making out aggressively and messily, saliva and sweat covering you both. He runs his hands over to your ass and begins massaging you toward your inner thighs. You’re dripping wet, and start slowly rocking your hips directly on his member. “A-ah-” Tsukki grunts, quickly erect at your pressure. He dips his hands from your thighs to right in between and starts slowly massaging around your pussy. You shudder at the contact, and he looks at you with a menacing grin. “Is this all you wanted you slut? You just wanted to be my little cocksleeve right?” You squirm at his degrading words, wishing they didn’t have the effect on you that they did. You breathe heavily down his neck and whisper into his ear, “I just wanted a normal relationship, but clearly you’re not capable of such complex concepts, asshole”. As your words intoxicate him, you pull down his shorts and underwear revealing his long, thick cock. He shivers, quickly lifting his hands up to cup your breasts. He massages them harshly and latches onto your neck, knowing he’ll leave bruises to last for days. His tongue against your neck has you under a spell, and you strip yourself naked. “God, look at that body of yours.” “Because that’s all you care about right? You wouldn’t give a damn if-” Tsukki immediately shuts you up by pulling you onto his length. “You’re damn right that’s all I care about.” Even though you were soaking wet, nothing could’ve properly prepared you for the stretch of his thick cock. Even though it hurt, it was almost in a good way. Your pussy pulsed against his rock-hard dick, pleasantly for both of you. Your time to adjust was quickly interrupted by Kei lifting you up lightly and contrastingly rhythmically ramming into you harshly. You hold onto his shoulders, while your pussy contracts against him. You couldn’t even manage to choke out any words, all you could do is whimper and moan. “God, you’re just such a fucking slut.” Tsukki mumbles into your ear. When you finally adjust to his pace, he drops you on him, completely bottoming out. “Fuck Tsukki!” you cry out. You cling onto his shoulders, roughing up his back. Tears start to well up at your eyes from the stretch, and you continue moaning into his body. He flips himself on top of you and reaches his hand toward your puffy clit. You gasp at the touch of his cold fingers and try to wipe away your tears. He quickly pins your hand down. “Don’t even think about it, those are my tears.” You nod quickly. Your slick coats his dick, and as his precum mixes with your messy fluids. A knot in your stomach builds, getting stronger by the second. “Tsukki- f- fuck- I’m gonna-” He pulls you in closer and starts moaning heavily into your ear. He lets out a long, drawn-out, “Fuuuuuuck (y/n)”. The knot in your stomach grows heavier until it suddenly snaps, causing you to squirt all over him. Chills rake throughout your entire body. The pulsing of your pussy, followed by him drenched in your fluid breaks Kei, and he quickly pulls out, releasing all over your bare chest. You two take a moment to catch your breath, and he starts slowly spreading his cum around your breasts, groping them. The two of you lay there, and you watch as his cock twitches from the heavy stimulus. “Well, (y/n), you really are a nasty fucking slut.” He grumbles. “And you aren’t?” You snap back. “You’re the one who-” He cuts you off, playing his finger toward your mouth. “I really couldn’t care less, I got what I want”. 

tags :)

#tsukki #tsukki smut #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukkishima x y/n #smut #haikyuusmut #kei tsukishima #smutfic #requestsopen #secondtimestillplsbenice #hatesex #degrading #hate sex #angst #haikyuu

[writing-in-april]

Made to Match

Frankie Morales x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader can’t stop stealing Frankie’s hat.

A/N: Hey everyone- this is my sixteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!!!! This is just a very fluffy sweet little fic I wrote for Frankie 😌 Side note- I wanted to thank everyone for being so kind after my last post ranting about my emotional breakdown today, thank you- so much it means a lot. Feel free to leave me an anon about anything here- I love hearing from people about anything (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Frankie gets a little frisky by gettinbf close to grabbing Reader’s ass & one or two swear words

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.5k

“You can’t keep stealing my hat!” Frankie shouted at you as you ran away from him with his hat perched on your head. All you did was giggle and scurry away faster.

You ran into your shared bedroom, looking around frantically for a quick place to hide. Realistically you knew Frankie would find you in a heartbeat, he had been trained to track stealthier people throughout his career. You were definitely no challenge considering you couldn’t even keep your mouth shut and stop laughing.

It was funny to see him pretend to get mad each time you’d pluck it off of his head, even though the look in his eyes showed how much he liked it.

The quickest place to hide was in the closet you both shared, choosing to hide in between both of your racks of hanging clothes. You posited that he might not check here, both of you preferred wearing the more casual clothes folded neatly in the dresser. The only thing Frankie regularly wore that was in here was a few of his nice flannels that he didn’t want getting creases in. He was never in here, so he wouldn’t think to check here

It was quiet, definitely too quiet. You bit your lip while holding your breath, afraid that he might somehow hear you. The silence was tense, your mind over analyzing every small noise you heard.

A small creak from the floorboards made you tense up even more, you were sure Frankie was close. That was soon after confirmed to you by a loud shout to scare you out of your hiding place, “Boo!”

Even though you had known he was close you still couldn’t help but let out a short scream, adrenaline now coursing through your veins as a result of being startled. Your shout dissolved back into laughter that infected the room once your mind fully processed that it was only Frankie. He pulled you out from the rack with a gentle grip on your wrist, starting to tickle your sides as soon as you emerged. The sounds of each other's laughter were addicting to both you and Frankie. You did have to eventually beg when tears came to your eyes, “I yield! You can have your hat back!”

He popped it off your head, plopping it back down where it belonged on his head. You draw your lips into the biggest pout you could manage, though you weren’t actually upset of course. It was fun to pull Frankie’s leg even if he knew you were pretending right off the bat.

“But- I look the best in it.” Frankie’s look on his face told you that your fake pout and dramatic words weren't swaying him at all.

“I don’t disagree with you. But, it’s still mine,” He teased, “Besides, mine is too big on you, you need one that fits better.”

—-

Frankie’s passing comment about getting you a baseball cap for yourself hadn’t stuck with you for very long, certainly not 2 months after. You had stolen his hat many times since then, it was too fun not too.

It was the furthest thing from your mind as you filled out some meaningless paperwork at your kitchen table. You were getting bored to tears, filling in blanks that basically just repeated the same information over and over again until you reached the end. You audibly sighed in relief when Frankie came in through the front door, back from work for the evening.

He set down his truck keys on the kitchen table, carefully avoiding revealing something he obviously was holding behind his back. He hadn’t said anything to you yet besides a simple greeting and telling you he missed you. Instead, deciding to stand, patiently waiting for you to finish what you were doing.

“What are you doing?” You questioned not bothering to finish the paperwork for now, standing up as he rocked back on his heels .

“I- Umm have something for you…” He pushed a package in your hand that he had been hiding behind his back after his admission. When he handed you his pocket knife to open the package you tore into it, carefully of course, in case it was something fragile. In the box held a hat, one that looked suspiciously similar to the one sat on his head. You pulled it out of the box, inspecting it in your hands, realizing it was an exact match for his.

“You got this for me?” You squeaked and he nodded in return, while you flipped it over in your hands, looking at every inch. It had a similar patch on the front that had the same ‘Standard Heating & Oil’ on the front. At first looking at it you thought he might have gotten it custom made for you, until you realized it was well loved just as his was. Well, maybe not as much considering Frankie’s hat had fallen apart at the seams until you had fixed it with some new stitching. It must have taken a while to track down a real one with the exact same logo as his. Your curiosity was peaked so you asked, “Where did you get this?”

He shifted his eyes back and forth, getting a little nervous that you might not like it. He did eventually find the words to tell you, “I was looking on um- EBay for one and then I happened to find one at a thrift store while looking for new flannels.”

“I- I love it, thank you so much baby.” You gasped in excitement and leaned forward to press a kiss to his burning cheeks. Something about it being made at a similar time as his made it all the more special, glad that Frankie was blessed with serendipity.

Frankie then shyly asked, “Can I put it on you?”

Almost immediately you answered, “Yes!” Frankie still looked rather bashful at your response, tugging his own cap down before grabbing your new one. Something about you being excited for his little gifts always seemed to make him extremely bashful, like he felt he didn’t deserve your praise. You made it your mission to change that each time he added to the list of little things that made you love him even more.

“This one will fit better on you than mine.” Your eyes went soft, the gesture so sweet that you suddenly wanted to cry for some reason. Frankie was always a very sweet man, each time he did something like this your heart melted into a puddle on the floor no matter how many times he’s done it.

He takes the bill of your new hat and places it on your head, swatting your hands away when you move to push it down so he could do it himself. The hat fits perfectly on your head, almost so perfect that you wouldn’t be surprised if Frankie had measured your head while you were sleeping and adjusted it accordingly. He tapped the top of the bill once while looking down at you with his own hat snug on his head making you giggle.

Moving his hands again to now smooth over the tops of your shoulders he inspected the fit of it with a smile. “It looks perfect- you look perfect.”

Bringing your lips to Frankie’s you then gave him a soft kiss while cupping his scratchy cheeks. It was slightly awkward to maneuver the bills of your caps to be able to have your lips meet properly, the corners of Frankie’s eyes crinkling in amusement as you huffed trying to adjust your mouth on his. You did eventually find the perfect angle to tilt both of your heads without bonking the curved bills together.

Sighing into the kiss, Frankie reciprocated, deepening it a little bit more. His hands were always wandering, trailing down from your shoulders to the small of your back, low enough that he was almost grabbing your ass. You couldn’t seem to stop giggling, something that Frankie loved, even while kissing.

“What are you doing?” You repeated your question from earlier, much more teasingly this time while his hand travelled down further.

“Nothing…” The way the pitch in his voice rose you could tell that was a lie. You quirked your eyebrow up at him in question, silently calling him a liar. He withered underneath your gaze and admitted, “Alright- maybe it’s something but, you just look so good in your hat.”

Teasing him was almost too easy sometimes, you could get him to be flustered with just a few simple words or even none at all, “Mmmm alright I’ll let it go, I do like this hat on me too. Thanks again for getting it for me baby.”

You both kept standing in your embrace like time had stopped ticking by, just enjoying the presence of the other. The hat was an amazing present from Frankie, matching perfectly with him. But, you weren’t going to lie, you'd miss stealing his hat so he would chase you around the house. You brought your head out from where it was tucked in his shoulder to ask, “Can I still steal yours sometimes?”

“Of course, but only if you let me steal yours.” You nodded your head, with a smile of course because there was almost never a time when you didn’t smile when you were around Frankie. Now you and Frankie would always match, like two peas in a pod.

Ask Me Anything

——

Tag lists (fill out this form to join): Strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you (check your tumblr settings to see if you are unsearchable)

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith

All Pedro Pascal Characters: (no ones on this one yet 😊 & I’ll create a tag list only for Frankie if anybody wants it)

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #30 fics in 30 days #pedro pascal

[katsukisblackteddy]

The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt. 

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens. 

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I  𓂀 PART II 𓂀 

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home. 

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people. 

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler. 

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her. 

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded. 

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room. 

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in. 

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.” 

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room. 

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow. 

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl. 

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son. 

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas​ 

TAGS:

#katsukisblackteddy #pharaoh bakugou #warrior princess reader #bakugou x black reader #ancient egypt au #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x black reader #in honor of black history month coming up #ancient egypt #TWQ&HP Mini Series #i don't know how many parts I want to write for this yet #black history month 2021 #mha x black reader #mha x poc!reader #pls i love mitsuki

[fedonciadale]

Hi! I was wondering...how many Jonsas are out there, do you think? Are we really so very on the fringe when we've got the second highest number of pairing fics (after Braime) on Ao3, like a good 3000 more than J0nerys? Maybe we just churn out the most fic! Of course I'm not taking into account the probably large amount of non-shipper fans — one of my friends is one such person and I made my case about the evidence for Jonsa and she thought it was likely, especially with how it would resolve the narrative reason for Jon's parentage reveal, if he's not actually destined to be kot7k. But she's waiting for the books (if they ever come out!) to fully come over to us Jonsas. But let's say Winds does come out, sooner rather than later, and Jonsa is brought forward from the subconsious foreshadowing into a conconsious reality, do you think we might see a new wave of Jonsas (akin to those who came on board during s6+)? I feel like there are some neutral readers open to it, though akin to ghosts (lol), they have to see it to believe it. Some people, of course, will HATE it though.

Hi there!

Well, this might be just my impression, but I actually think that the Jonsa fandom is not that small but maybe smaller than you would think if you look at the number of fics? If that makes sense. And it would be difficult to measure the number of shippers.

I’m involved/half-involved in some fandoms and fandoms tend to have differing flavours. I don’t know how to explain it better. Anyway of course every fandom has artist, writers, meta writers, gif makes, and supporters who might not produce much or only occasionally. And some ships are generally more hated within a fandom than others.

For example, I low-key ship Deckerstar, have read some fics, follow some blogs. I’m in no way really active and I only wrote one fic. Imho opinion the Lucifer fandom is pretty chill and Deckerstar is a highly popular ship that has some really amazing writers and art. People are pretty accepting of all ships. I might not be deep enough into it, but I haven’t blacklisted any tags from the Lucifer fandom.

The HP fandom is huge and quite divided and Dramione is a popular ship but also quite hated by others. But the books are written and there is nothing to fight about really. So apart from the occasional anti Dramione rant that happens occasionally and is not tagged properly, there is rarely any drama (well apart from the regular fandom drama). Most people understand that fanon and canon are not the same.  Most people understand why people like enemies to lovers even if they dislike Dramione. Even the anti-Dramione anons I occasionally get seem to originate in the Got fandom and seem to be by people who think they can call me out for shipping a disgusting ship. Sigh.

Dramione is a ship that is - at least in my experience - really very strong on the art side. There are many many absolutely and incredible artists. Of course there are good fics as well, but the art really catches the eye? Anyway I have blacklisted some HP ships, not because I clashed with anyone, just because I dislike the ships.

And then there is the GoT fandom...

Well, the show is over but the books are unfinished and an end of the discussion is nowhere in sight. And for some reason (and I have talked about this repeatedly on my blog) the Jonsa ship is the most hated of all. Random rare pair shippers claim they have seen something on a Jonsa blog, tag it Anti Jonsa and everyone and their mother will chime in, give them notes and reblogs and shout out loudly how the Jonsa fandom (and occasionally Sansa fans by association) are the worst part of the fandom. We ruin everybody’s experience etc. etc. The GoT/ASOIAF fandom has effectively driven the Jonsa fandom out of the Jon Snow and Daenerys tag. I know that some people still are brave enough to tag Arya, Jon and Daenerys but I for my part have given up on it, because I just don’t have time for the drama. And I still have stalkers.

So, there are reasons why people would rather be a closeted Jonsa shipper. The fandom is big enough that you don’t have to feel alone but people have dropped into my inbox, telling me that they agree but that they would never admit that publicly (Imagine that!). So, I can easily imagine that once TWOW drops and Sansa is indeed the Girl in Grey and we get Jonsa content that there will be an influx of shippers. As you said, some people might hate it, but that is only to be expected.

All in all, Jonsa is a fandom that is dominated by fic writers (again just my experience). Of course there are wonderful artists and gif makers, but the majority seems to be writers. I also have the impression that Jonsas are mostly active on tumblr and post to AO3. So, I actually do think that Jonsas are over-represented in fic, because AO3 is a space where you usually can post in peace and because the proportion of fic writers is probably higher than in other fandoms.

Please mind that this is just my impression.

Thanks for the ask!

#anon ask #Jonsa #Jonsa fam #Dramione #Deckerstar #all that is wrong with the got fandom #Anti Got fandom #It really is the worst

[severetimetravelnerd]

I Don’t Know(13) (ft. G Dragon and MINO)

Part 13

You’ve had enough of this crap.

This series will be updated once a week, every Friday! No specific time though lol. It’s an AU where Jiyong has a younger sister and you’re her best friend! Featuring my OC Mirae as the Best friend. Just saying, it’s not related to any of the scenarios I’ve written so far. Please do leave me some comments or asks! I love receiving them! It’s also a bit of a love triangle situation, so yeah :)) There will be eventual smut in this series.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Taglist:

@kwonnansi​ ; @unabashedturkeytreeslime​ ; @happiestgirlontheeastcoast​; @yee-hawwwwwwww​ ; @slayergroupie0128​ ; @herewecomeitsjekki​ ; @happygirl327​ ; @to-all-the-stories-i-love​ ; @kankoshio​

Please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list:))

This is the second last part!!

Word Count: 2020

WARNINGS:  crying, drinking.

——————————————-

You tried to put up with it. You really did. For two weeks, you respected his wishes and put some distance between the two of you, no matter how much it hurt you to go back to being practically strangers with Jiyong. You didn’t message him. You passed on all messages for him via his manager. You didn’t try and acknowledge his existence at work, even though you were working on his comeback. It got tougher by the day, because his manager had given you printouts of the lyrics of the songs in his comeback for you and your team to have a better idea of what to do and after reading them, you were moments away from bursting into tears, because of the beautiful way in which he put down the feeling of longing he had for you. You knew that feeling. It was what you felt for him. For all those years, and somewhere deep down, you knew you still did. You also had to fight the urge to laugh, because when you read his lyrics about wanting to be close to you, all you wanted to do was shake him and ask him why he was pushing you away again. Yeah, maybe he wasn’t being mean to you this time, but it hurt. It hurt so goddamn much. You were so confused. But you tried. You really tried to maintain the distance. You tried even harder to pretend like it wasn’t affecting you. But you betrayed yourself in the small things. The hope in your eyes whenever you thought you heard his voice. The constant looks towards the door. The general air of weariness about you. The pained expression you got whenever someone spoke about him. Even so, you persevered for two weeks before a combination of things made you snap.

-two weeks later-

You were mid conversation with Hwiyoung when Jiyong’s manager walked in. He was smiling and looked very excited.

“Okay, you guys! I thought it might help with your work if you listened to Jiyong’s album, starting with the title track ‘I Don’t Know’. It’s the song for the music video you’ve been working on!”

And before you could make an excuse to get out of listening to something you knew would only cause you more pain, he started playing it. The moment you heard Jiyong’s voice reading out the message he sent you the night you confessed to him, you found yourself unable to move. You wanted to get up and walk away, but from the sound of his beautifully melodic voice and the things he was talking about, you were stuck in this flurry of memories. They all flashed before your eyes. The day you realised you liked him, the times you cried over him, the times he comforted you; everything took over in this wave of emotions and it proved to be too much for you to bare. The song had ended, but you were still stuck in your own world. You were only jolted out of it when Somin hesitantly wiped a tear off your face. Shocked at yourself, you looked upwards to find Hwiyoung, Lia, Somin and Jiyong’s manager staring at you, confused. You opened your mouth to make an excuse and laugh it off, but you couldn’t.

“I-I need to go.” Your voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

And you walked out of the room, tears streaming down your face.

What was going on? What was Jiyong playing at? You liked him and then he rejected you. You tried getting over him and more or less succeeded, but then he entered your life again. He told you he loved you, he acted like he cared. He drew you out of your walls, enough to trust him again and expect something from him, when he disappeared and ignored your existence. That song pushed you too far. You were just so confused. You walked down the hall, fully planning on crying until you calmed down and returning to work, when you heard his voice. At first, you thought it was just the song echoing in your head, when you heard it again. His laugh. Pausing, you looked around and realised you were near a practice room, with the door wide open. Against what your mind was telling you to do, you peeped in to see Jiyong doubled over with laughter and the actor blushing and hiding her face.

“Jiyong, stop laughing at me!”

“That is not what I meant when I said dance.”

“Well, I know that now.”

“Here, this is how you do it.”

He turned her to face him and guided her arms to wrap around his neck. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaned her head against his chest and began swaying to the music. And that was it. You snapped. It wasn’t even seeing the way she looked at him or the way he touched her, though that didn’t help. It was the song he played while dancing with her. It was the same song that played for the first dance at Sohyun’s wedding. It was the same song the two of you danced to over and over again. You looked down at your phone, looking through the images and finding the picture from that night. It was one of the few good memories you had with him. Subconsciously, you always thought of that song as special to you and Jiyong. Seeing just how special it was to him, you felt betrayed. It wasn’t even noon, but you were done. You needed it to stop. You walked off, deciding to go to Mirae’s house and drink your ass off. Little did you know Jiyong heard your footsteps as you walked off. He wanted to run after you, hold you and erase every memory of him with that other girl, but he couldn’t. He knew he had to maintain the space. You were happier without him.

---

Mirae jumped up from the couch when she heard this continuous knocking on her door, almost annoyingly loud.

“Hold on, for fuck’s sake! I’ll be there in a minute.”

She flung open the door, fully prepared to scream at whoever was at the door when her jaw dropped. You were standing there, seriously dishevelled, in your work clothes. Your hair was pulled out of the neat arrangement it had been in in the morning, your make up was smudged from all the crying and you had tear marks running down your face. You had this painfully forced smile on your face and you held two bottles of wine in your hand.

“Mirae! Babe,” You threw your arms around her. “Let’s get drunk.”

“Y/N, what? It’s 11 am.”

“So what? Who cares? It’s just a little wine anyway.”

And before Mirae could stop and ask you what happened, you opened a bottle of wine and chugged.

Mirae gently coaxed the bottle, which was half empty, out of your hand and sat you down.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

You grabbed the bottle back. “Nope.”

Before you could drink again, Mirae snatched it away again.

“No, we’re not doing this. You’re going to get drunk and rant and then forget everything if you continue drinking. Not happening. We’re going to talk this out and deal with our problems, okay? We can take however long you want, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you’re not doing this thing again where you try to forget about them.”

You fell silent.

“You wanna take a shower and change into something comfy? I’ll fix you something to eat in the meantime.”

You slowly nodded and left. When you got back, you were decidedly calmer. Your skin was a little splotchy from having cried so much, but you weren’t near hysterical anymore, which is always a good thing. Mirae just quietly watched you and didn’t say a word until you had eaten. While handing you a glass of water, she sat down beside you and pulled you into a hug.

“Y/N, I don’t know what happened, but it’s okay. I’m here for you. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again. She held you and let you cry it all out before finally asking you,

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah.”

You took a deep breath and started ranting about Jiyong. Mirae heard you out throughout and with each passing second, she got more annoyed at her brother.

“Good god, he is an idiot. I don’t know what he’s thinking. You know what he rants about when he’s drunk? About how he would do anything for your happiness. I didn’t realise he meant he wanted to pull this bullshit. He always talks about how he will wait for you, no matter how long it takes, if you’re unhappy. That idiot doesn’t realise that there is no need to wait for fuck’s sake. He even heard you tell him you love him. But no, that’s not enough. Why? “She won’t remember saying it.””

She paused when she noticed you staring at her.

“What?”

“I told him I love him?”

“Yeah, you did. You were drunk, which is probably why you don’t remember.”

But the moment she said that, hazy recollections of the night he sat with you in the park started to come back to you. Fuck. You told him you loved him. You told him you missed him. And as you sat there shocked over your words, you realised just how true they were. Shocked, you whispered to yourself,

“Then why is he doing this?”

Mirae sighed. “He’s an idiot, that’s why. Also, he thinks he’s never seen you smile as happily as you did when you were with Minho.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s only because I wasn’t with him!”

“I know that. You know that. The only problem is he doesn’t.”

You jumped up, determined to go and talk things out with Jiyong, when Mirae held your arm, stopping you.

“Look, I know you want to go talk to him now, but it’s only 2 in the afternoon. He’s still at work, with everyone else there. If someone records your conversation, it would be a huge scandal. You should talk to him after he goes home. Why don’t you nap for a while instead? I know you haven’t been sleeping all that well.”

Reluctantly, you followed her advice. She was right. You couldn’t afford to risk a scandal involving you, Jiyong, Yuna, Jae and Minho.

---

It was late when you woke up from your nap. Really late. You rubbed your eyes and reached across to check the time on your phone. 11pm. Wait. What. How on earth did you sleep for nine hours straight?! You doubled checked the alarms you set on your phone. Great. You managed to sleep through all of them. You looked around Mirae’s room and you saw a family photo. Jiyong. That was why you were exhausted in the first place. You couldn’t sleep thinking about him. Well, not anymore.

---

Jiyong was lazily watching some old reruns of a tv show, not able to bring himself to watch anything you liked, when he heard someone maniacally banging on his front door. Worried for a minute, his fear eased when he heard your voice.

“Kwon Jiyong, I know you’re in there! And if you don’t fucking open this door, I’ll stay here all night.”

Worried about you, he gently opened the door, prepared more for you coming in and sitting down. He was not prepared for you storming in with crazed eyes, kicking the door shut behind you, grabbing his collar and pushing him against a wall.

“Wh-what”-

“Enough. I’ve had enough of this Jiyong. Why? Why are we putting ourselves through this?! No. Why are you putting me through this?!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve had enough of you ignoring me.”

“Y/N, I had to-”

“Shut the fuck up and listen. I love you Jiyong.”

And you pulled him closer, sliding your arms around his neck before kissing him.

---

Copyright © 2020-2021 @severetimetravelnerd All rights reserved.

Any unlawful and unauthorized sharing of these works will result in legal action.

(Reblogs are good :) )

#kpop scenarios #kpop angst #g dragon scenarios #mino scenarios #kpop series #g dragon angst #g dragon fluff #mino angst #mino fluff #kpop #kpop fluff #angst #g dragon #kwon jiyong #mino #song minho #bigbang scenarios #winner scenarios #g dragon x reader

[yee-fxcking-haw]

What Happens Next?

A/N: Y'ALL I FUCKIN DID IT I FINISHED THE DAMN FIC. So I definitely bit off more than I could chew by making my first fic a multipart with so much fucking emotion and such a busy plot but lol we did it! Thank you to everyone who has read the story and asked to be tagged and sent me kind words I love y'all so damn much.

Warnings/Rating: 18+ explicit content, very soft romantic smut, unprotected sex, almost a blowjob, James finishes inside the reader. A lot of fluffy love making petty much a great time.

Summary: In the sixth and final chapter of this series, James and you finally figure your shit out. You have to stop running from each other, what you have is far too brilliant...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Part Five

Playlist

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part Six

Annie's Diner

"I'm a nurse! I'm a nurse, let me see him!" A soft voice calls out over your shoulder. James' head turns towards the voice, his eyes fluttering back open.

"James?" You ask urgently.

"Relax doll, I was just restin' my eyes for a second. Fightin' off assholes is hard work."

He slowly raises to brace himself on his elbows, wincing a little while he does.

The nurse comes around and drops to her knees on the other side of him. She's a pretty little thing with honey colored hair and bright brown eyes.

"Just give us one second dear, I'm certain he's alright I just need to check for a concussion."

You don't answer, you just nod and get up to turn to the small crowd that's begun to disperse, seemingly disappointed with the lack of action.

This is an opportunity for you to finally take a deep breath and process everything that's happene. Air fills your lungs, shoulders rising and tensing for a moment. You release and let your posture fall back down, letting yourself portray outwardly how drained you feel inside. You've gone from hating James and being terrified of him, to being saved by him, to understanding him to… what now? If everything he's said is true, then everything that happened between you two is just as meaningful as it was before prom. Although, misunderstanding or not, it still hurt like hell. You should be more cautious, right? You shouldn't just run back into his arms like everything's fine, even though it is.

You turn to look back at him, long legs sprawled on the pavement while the alleged nurse checks his pulse and his pupils. He's joking about something, you can tell by the way his eyebrows are sitting higher and the lopsided smile on his face. He's propped up on his elbows, strong arms straining against his shirt. The image sends you back to the afternoon that changed it all, you remember his solid body collapsing onto your lap in a dramatic display of feigned illness. Your lips twitch into a small smile at the thought. You shake your head and walk back towards them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you look worried about me doll." He jests, the nurse turns to glance at you and smiles fondly.

"Your fella is just fine dear, try and keep him on a shorter leash next time." She chuckles as she stands and dusts off her pretty green skirt, James follows, wincing as he stands.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the implication that James is yours, while he wears a very satisfied smirk at the idea. You swallow thickly and give her a silent nod. James thanks her sweetly for checking him, she says something back to him but you've completely zoned out. Her comment has senr you into a state of utter confusion. Is he your fella? No, you never established that. He did call you his girl though, so that would make him your fella. On top of that, what happened on the roof after Coney Island doesn't just happen between friends, not even friends with benefits. The way he held you so tightly, the way he littered kisses down your spine. Those aren't things you share with someone that doesn't belong to you.

The nurse politely ducks away to go back into the diner with the rest of the onlookers. Leaving you and James to stand alone in the dimly lit parking lot. His jaw looks much worse for wear, the skin is so angry and red. He'll definitely have a bruise, an ugly one at that. James lets out a long sigh, staring down at you with those big blue eyes. Despite it all, the idiot is still smiling. You scowl up at him, you cross your arms and lean to one side, refusing to let him crack you.

"You mad at me?" He asks timidly, he gives you an exaggerated pout while he lifts a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear.

You don't say a word. Of course you're mad at him. He scared you half to death, all for what? Just so he could feel like the tough guy? To prove a point to you? To prove a point to himself? He must have known the fight would end with him beat or worse and he has gall to ask if you're mad?

"Hey." He breathes, his hand comes to rest under your chin so he can tilt your face up with his knuckles. The gesture makes your heart flutter wildly.

"I get it, that was stupid, could've gotten hurt much worse and all that." He says, his eyes are gentle and attentive.

You huff and blink up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

"He just- he came in there talkin' all that shit about you bein' his. It pissed me off is all, you're not his. You're not really anybody's- I mean, I'd like to make you mine- but not in the way he meant. I don't want to own you, I wanna love you, doll. I wanna keep you safe and make you laugh and get my ass beat in skee ball and do all that other cheesy crap. I know I fucked up so badly, but baby please-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his little rant, the second he calls you baby your hands fly to the sides of his face. As it always does with him, your body moves separate from your mind. You smash your lips into his and you feel his hands settle on your waist, clutching you like you're going to float away at any second. That same baffling electricity thrums through your body as your lips move against each other. The rhythm of the kiss is like an echo of the one you shared on the roof. It has the same tide like push and pull, each of you giving and taking from each other in perfect unison. His lips are soft and urgent against yours, his grip solid and grounding. His hands slide towards each other behind you so his arms can find their home around your waist. The feeling makes you sigh against his lips. After months of being without this feeling, after only having it once, all you've done is want it back and now you have it again.

The kiss only breaks so you can both breathe, foreheads still pressed together, wanting to stay as connected as possible. He smiles down at you, it's a beautiful dopey grin. The look he's giving you makes a shiver run up your spine.

"You wanna go skinny dipping?" You ask, absolutely shocked at your own words.

What the hell? Did Molly fucking possess you? He scoffs and ducks down so his eyes are level with yours.

"Do I wanna what?!" He starts cracking up, and you can't help but join him, the absurdity of it all getting to you.

You can't help but think why the hell not. After all of this, all the confusion and the hurt, you two deserve a night like you shared months ago. Maybe you're an idiot, maybe you're only acting based on an emotional response to what James has done for you tonight. But fucking hell, why not just put it all behind you and live a little? James wants to be yours, he wants you to be his. You need to just let it be and stop fighting the way you both keep hurtling towards each other. So yeah, you want to go skinny dipping. It's the most impulsive, idiotic thing you can think of, and you've always wanted to try it.

"I think you know my answer." He chuckles.

"Let go then." You say quickly, turning on your heels so you can head to the truck before you change your mind.

"Woah kid wait up." He calls out to you while he laughs as he follows.

You reach the truck and swing the door open so you can hop in, he scrambles in as you frantically shove the keys in and crank it into gear.

"Hey." His soft voice snaps you out of your manic state. Your eyes dark to his and you feel your breathing slow down some.

"How 'bout we save the skinny dipping for another time?" He asks, voice soft and steady.

You just nod, becoming aware of how hard you were trying to be light-hearted and fun to mask how overwhelmed you're feeling.

"We don't have to move so fast, doll. We did last time and it didn't go so well, I don't wanna mess up this time." He says, his silvery eyes don't leave yours for a second.

Your head moves up and down silently again, you pull some air into your lungs slowly. He's right. You're trying too hard to make everything ok again. You just want to feel like you did on the roof, you want to be free of all the shit that's happened. James has a point though, you've both learned what happens when things move too quick for you both to keep track of it all. You have to be careful with it this time. Careful and boring are often mistakingly paired together, but not with James. It's undeniable that what you have with him is irreplaceable, which makes it all the more critical that you both handle this like it's made of glass.

"So, what do you want to do?" Your voice is so small, almost unrecognizable.

"I want to dance with you." He states, making your heart soar.

"Like, back at the dance hall?" You ask, the stress evident in your voice.

"God no, we can go to my house." He says it like it's obvious.

"Won't your family mind?" The idea of meeting them now makes you extremely anxious. It would be rather awkward to show up to meet his mother for the first time while he's wearing a shiner you half gave him.

"My Ma and my sister are at my aunt's house." He explains, his voice is laced with a tentative tone.

"Oh…" You exhale gently, understanding the situation.

"Only if you want to, I promise I'll behave." His tone shifts to something slightly taunting.

You can't help but smile, he's always quite the charmer.

"What fun would that be?" You chuckle, "Take me home, Bucky."

The nickname makes him smile in the most dazzling way, it stays glued to his face almost the whole way to his house.

James' House

You pull up to the front of an adorable little white house. It's very sweet looking, very simple and quaint. As the engine dies you glance over at James, he's looking at the house with a very solemn, spaced out gaze. Instinctively, you reach out and grab his hand, sliding your fingers between his own.

"I know…" You say as gently as you can. It's his dad, you know because you wear that look far too often. James just nods slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. You don't dare speak again, you just hold his hand. You don't need to say anything, you don't ever want people to say anything when you have the same feeling. All you can do is sit and understand him. Your chest fills with a horrible ache at the sight, but you're also filled with a strange relief. You aren't alone, and he isn't either. You have each other, you know each other, you get to love each other.

He lets the air fall out of his chest, face softening as he does.

"Thank you, doll." His eyes meet yours and he offers you a weak smile.

"Let's go inside." He says. He walks around to help you out of the truck, offering his hand like a gentleman. You want to slap it away out of instinct, but tonight is different.

He helps you down then wraps his hand around yours as he leads you up the sidewalk.

Before he opens the door he presses a kiss on the side of your head. It's quick and soft, and very different from the way he's kissed you before. Every other time it's felt like he prepared for it, and you had time to brace for it. This time it feels like he's used to doing it, like it's a natural thing.

The house is exactly what you would anticipate the home of a widow to look like. Decorated with lace doilies, soft blankets draped on the couch, and delicate lamps that cast a fuzzy yellow haze over the room. The living room is right off of the front door, and the kitchen is just an extension of it. A cute little staircase is on the left wall leading up to what you can only imagine is an equally quaint upstairs.

James walks confidently into his home, straight for the record player. As he fiddles with it you wander over to the fireplace. The mantle is littered in beautiful family photos, just like at your house. His father is in many of them, kissing his mom, holding a young James on his shoulder, cradling a baby you assume must be James' sister. He was handsome like James, but their faces aren't identical, you can see where his face is a balance of the two individuals. Your chest burns with remorse, knowing that these pictures serve as the only thing they have left of the man they all loved so well.

You startle just a little when James wraps his arms around your waist from behind, but relax when he presses a kiss into the side of your neck.

"It's alright, doll." He mumbles. You don't know if he says it for you or for him, but it doesn't matter. You let yourself sink further into the comfort of being known so well by James.

The music pops into existence, a gentle rhythm fills the room. The song is made of soft trumpets and strings, it's a beautiful, romantic melody. Something you would expect old lovers to sway to in their living room. You and James have the lovers part down, you just need to grow old and have your own living room. Is that even in the cards for you two? You sure as hell hope it is. You remember your realization on the roof that night, thinking about how if love isn't like what you two have, you don't want to love at all.

The feeling suffocates you as he spins you around in his arms. His eyes see right through you as his hands find their home on your waist while your arms slide around his neck.

"I love you doll, I never stopped." He breathes with an urgent look in his eyes.

He starts to sway with you around the living room as you gaze up at him completely dumbfounded. Of course he loves you, and you love him. Yes, you have so much left to learn about each other, but my God has James stolen your heart. Ever since you two left that classroom, you've been consuming each other's thoughts. You've been willing yourselves to try and understand the electricity that sparks between you. It's been so fucking messy, but now that you're in his arms again, dancing like an old married couple, you finally understand it all.

"I love you too…" You say it so softly it's almost not heard, but James catches it.

That dazzling smile spreads across his face, it's contagious nature making your own lips split into a grin.

"Would my outstanding skills in the bedroom have anything to do with that?" He says with a sickly sweet voice.

"James!" You laugh and slap his arm. He throws his head back to let out a playful laugh, the sound sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

"I wouldn't know what your skills are like in the bedroom anyway, I only know what they're like on a roof." You joke.

"We could change that." He says, his voice taking on a much lower tone.

You both freeze and stare into each other's eyes. The air around you feels so thick and the room starts to blur a little, everything except James.

Then you're on each other. Your lips crash together and your hands snag whatever they can. You let out a whiney noise from the back of your throat, which only spurs James on more. His hand grabs at your waist and he licks at your bottom lip. His actions inspire a wonderful heat to settle in your stomach, the feeling gives you confidence you've never felt before. You slide your hands up his chest to grasp his collar, silently begging him to come closer. The two of you break for air for only a second, eyes glued to each other as you pant and try to comprehend the fire growing between you.

"What are you waiting for, Bucky?" You tease.

A wild look spreads in his eyes and a wide grin overtakes his handsome face. Before you can make another witty comment, James brings his strong hands to the backs of your thighs and hoists you up so you can wrap your legs around him. You let out a shocked giggle but gladly welcome his choice to hold you like this. Now level with his face, you throw your arms around his shoulders and place a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. He wrinkles his face dramatically and let's out a low chuckle.

"I'm gonna drive you wild, doll." He responds with all the confidence in the world.

Of course, his words make your chest ache with desire, your thighs involuntarily squeeze him a little tighter. With the natural push and pull that you two have, his body responds to your actions without thought. He lets his hands slide up to hold your thighs dangerously close to the swell of your ass, fire spreading to your center as he does.

"That's some big talk." You mumble, blinking at him slowly.

"It sure is." His eyes wander down to your lips, not even a second passes before you're on each other again. He damn near kisses the breath out of your lungs this time, his soft, skilled lips make you head spin and all you can do is hold on tight.

"Can I take you to my room?" He asks against your lips. His voice has a gentle, begging tone to it that makes you shiver.

"Please." You sigh as you let your hands slide into the soft hair on the back of his head. He kisses you hard and walks blindly up the stairs, then he's kicking the door open to what you can only assume is his room. You feel your body falling then feel your back meet a soft mattress. Bucky settles easily between your legs and your heart races when you feel how hard he is already. His hot mouth is on your neck instantly, painting your skin with needy kisses.

"Can I take this off of you?" He mumbles while he pulls at the fabric of your dress.

You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Gettin' right into it, huh?" You say.

He brings his hand up so he can hold your face and run his thumb across your cheek bone. His eyes are soft but determined as he studies your face.

"I don't wanna waste any more time." He says simply, the phrase is loaded with months of longing. His confession dazzles you, leaving you laying there with no idea how to breathe. All you can do is nod in understanding and revel in the feeling of his wet kisses against your neck again. He gently hikes your dress up to your waist, then quickly brings his hands back down so he can run them up your thighs. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs pressing on the bones so he can pin you down slightly as he rolls his hips against your center.

Your hands instinctively claw at his broad back as a hiss leaves your lips.

"Let me get on top." You sigh, completely shocking yourself with your boldness.

You feel him smile against your collar bone before his hands glide up to hold your waist. He flips you both over with ease, granting you your wish without argument. You catch your breath as you settle on his lap, hands splayed across his chest.

"I'm all yours, doll." His eyes fall down your body sinfully, making your chest seize up and your legs squeeze around him.

You lean down to capture his lips in yours again, sighing contentedly when he moves against you like he did when you kissed for the first time on the roof.

"I missed you." You mutter against his mouth.

"Let's make up for that, yeah?" He replies quickly as he moves to pull your dress over your head. You lift your arms and let him undress you as you sit back. Soon the dress is out of the way and his warm hands are holding your waist again, thumbs brushing up and down against your skin. You become suddenly ashamed of your lackluster underwear and you feel your cheeks heat up as you watch James' eyes skate down your figure. As if he senses you unease, he sits up and snakes his arms around your waist. He presses a delicate kiss into the swell of each of your breasts as you card your fingers through his hair.

"You're so perfect." He whispers against your skin.

"Can I take this off?" He asks, bringing his thumbs up to hook his fingers around your bra straps.

Somehow, everything about this feels even more innocent than the first time you two made love. Maybe it's the knowledge that you don't have to show off, talk dirty, or have all the hot moves in order to impress each other. You're both just enchanted by the presence of one another. Finally, you're both able to just be together. There's no fear of what people will say about you in school tomorrow, no terrifying rumor hanging over your head. Just you and James, able to lose yourselves completely in this wonderful moment you've found.

You carefully undress each other, leaving tender kisses on any newly exposed skin, whispering sweet nothings as well as declarations of devotion. You cherish every second that passes as you explore each other's bodies again. Soon you're both fully exposed to each other, your hands grasp desperately at his shoulder as soon as you feel his erect length graze your core. You think back to how his lips felt between your legs, and you immediately want to repay the favor. You slink down his body until you settle between his legs. His abs tense as you slide your palms up his muscular thighs.

You know Bucky is big, especially after last time, but being face to face with his dick makes you realize his size is genuinely intimidating. He looks beautiful like this, all flushed and hard. His tip is a pretty shade of dark pink, similar to his lips, and there's a small bead of precum leaking out of his slit. The sight makes you clench your thighs and lick your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He teases.

"I sure do." You flirt back, wasting no time in wrapping your hand around his length to give him one slow pump. He throws his head back with as you bring your lips to his tip and give it a chaste kiss.

"Tell me if I do something wrong, please." You say, the tremble in your voice revealing just how nervous you really are.

James shoots up instantly, grabbing the wrist of the hand that's around his dick while the other comes up to cup your face. His thumb slides across your cheek bone affectionately as he stares at you with his kind blue eyes.

"Doll, if you're not ready for that, don't do it." His voice is like rich hot chocolate, spreading through your body and warming every nerve.

"But, last time you- I figure I owed you…" It makes sense in your head, but by the look he gives you it doesn't make any sense to him.

"Baby," He breathes out, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "Come here."

With gentle hands he pulls you into his lap so you can straddle him while he takes your face in his hands, gazing up at you with intensity.

"Anything I do for you, is because I want to. You don't owe me a damn thing. If you're ever not ready for something you tell me, and we can talk about it, ok?" His voice has a hint of urgency to it, like he can't stress the words enough.

You nod silently as you try to understand the man beneath you. Your brain desperately claws through your vocabulary to find the words to best describe the beautiful human being you've fallen for. All you can come up with is something terribly insufficient, but incredibly accurate. He's kind. He's a "heart if gold" kind of guy. Under the charm, the handsome face, the quick witted humor, James Barnes is the kindest person you've ever met.

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, following that involuntary reaction you've developed whenever you're around him. He kisses you back as fiercely as you kiss him, heavy breaths falling from his mouth as you work against one another. You can't help but whimper when you feel the hot skin of his dick slide along your drenched core.

"Make love to me, James, please-" You beg against his lips.

All he can manage is a moan against your mouth as he reaches down between you to grab himself so he can get lined up at your entrance. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's stolen from him as you inch down to slide the tip in. A beautiful, lustful sigh leaves his puffy lips as you do. It's still a harsh stretch for your walls, but this time you can anticipate it and welcome it. Slowly, you descend until he's in you completely. As soon as he's bottomed out you lean your forehead on his shoulder and let out a pitiful whine.

"You ok, doll?" He asks, nudging his nose against your jaw.

"I'm good, you're just so big…" You sigh. His grip on your waist tightens and you feel him twitch inside you.

"Careful sweetheart, don't want this ego getting any bigger." He teases, earning an airy giggle from you.

You brace yourself by holding his shoulders, rolling your hips tentatively. He kisses your neck when you do so and slides his arms around your waist, so you must be doing something right. You mimic the movement with a little more confidence this time. You can't help but bring your head up and send James a nervous glance, and he's more than willing to reassure you.

"That's good baby, that feels good." He says with a voice like honey as he skates his lips across your neck.

His praising words make your insides melt, spurring you on as you keep rolling against him. The way the soft skin of his dick moves against your soaked walls in euphoric. Your hands cling to each other, lips kiss where the can, short breaths fall from your mouth. All of it creates a truly beautiful atmosphere. It's nothing like the urgent, frantic mood you had last time. This doesn't feel like two teenagers who can't wait to see somebody naked for the first time. This feels like two people who want to be uncovered by each other.

His hands slide so he can spread his palms across your damp back and you shiver from the feather soft intimacy of the motion. Your forehead falls against his and your eyes lock.

"You're incredible." You sigh as brilliant sparks of pleasure start to build in your core.

You slowly build the pace of your hips until you're rocking against him with a rhythm that makes his nails claw at your back as he groans and pants. He's so deep inside you, reaching and rubbing against every sweet spot you have.

"Fuck- that's perfect doll- so fucking perfect." His voice has climbed in pitch slightly, he sounds almost whiney.

Your head falls to his shoulder, you shove your mouth against his collarbone in an attempt to muffle a pitiful sob as it shakes your abdomen. The feelings are all so fucking intense, your eyes screw shut as your walls start to flutter. Your chest aches as your head spins, completely incapable of comprehending all of the sensations drowning you in this moment.

"James- James I'm gonna-" Your words are cut off completely as one of his strong arms easily cradles you so he can flip you onto your back. You hit the mattress and he doesn't give you a single second to catch your breath before he's rocking his hips against yours.

"Fucking hell." You huff out as he plants his hands on either side of your head so he can bare down even more when he thrusts.

"I wanna see you, wanna see that pretty face." Both of you moan uncontrollably when you spread your legs even more to give him better access. Soon he's hitting some rapturous spot deep within you, setting off every nerve in your body.

Tears gather in your eyes and it takes every ounce of self control you have to not succumb to the desire to start crying beneath him. His body is moving so beautifully above you, every muscle working to give you everything he has. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall as you pull your bottom lip into your mouth to keep another sob caged inside you.

"Baby, don't hide anything." He says with a broken voice as he drops to his elbows so he can bring his face closer to your own.

"Cry if you need to, I got you." He punctuates his sentence with a stunning moan, and it absolutely breaks you. Your body trembles as you finally release all the emotion you've been suppressing. Your back arches and you finally let the tears cascade down the sides of your face. The sight of you falling apart beneath him, so fragile and overstimulated, it motivates him even more. His pace increases as he chants nonsense phrases of adoration to you.

He tells you how beautiful you are, how tight you feel, how good you are for him. All while your entire body quakes for him and his magnificent pace. You don't want to say his thrusts are hard, that word seems so utterly insufficient for how he's making love to you right now. His movements are committed, he fills you up with every push in and leaves you wanting so much more every time he draws back out.

"Baby you feel so good- fuck- please don't stop." You beg him as your cunt starts to pulse around him again, body edging towards that blinding release.

"No fuckin' way, I'm never gonna stop." He pants while his thick eyebrows push towards each other as his face crumples into a look of intense focus.

He braces himself on one arm so he can snake a skilled hand between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit almost immediately. It hits you immediately, almost before he even touches your sensitive bud. Your body anticipates his touch and sends itself over the edge, and my God it's fucking brilliant. Your pussy grips onto his cock as it slides in and out, your hands claw at his hot skin as his name falls from your lips. You sing him a pitiful song, made of incoherent swearing and plenty of crying.

"That's it sweet girl, give it to me- shit you're squeezin' the life outta me." You barely retain the words as he spits them out between frantic breaths as he chases his own high.

In one fluent motion, James flips your legs over each of his shoulders. He grabs the meat of your hips and lifts your pelvis off the bed as he brings his torso upright so he can settle back on his knees. If you thought you were crying before, you were fucking wrong. You scream out as tears flood your face, you can't tell if you're hurtling into another orgasm before your first has even finished, or if it's all just one long, mind numbing climax. Regardless, it's too good to be true. Every inch of you tingles and clenches as James snaps his hips into you, the angle sends fluorescent jolts of pleasure into your cunt and up your abs.

"Yeah doll, keep cumming for me, you feel so fuckin' perfect." He tosses his head back as he nearly shouts your name.

Your body starts to cool down just enough to provide some clarity. You're still twitching and tears are still rolling, but you at least have the wits to throw some praises at him. It's the least you can do when he's working so hard to make you fall apart.

"Fuck James, you made me cum so hard." Your words have an affect on him instantly, his fingertips bite at your flesh as hips tense and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

"You make me feel so good baby, you drive me fuckin' crazy." He lets go of your hips and throws your legs apart so he can fall on top of you again. He presses his forehead against yours before his lips meet your own so he can kiss you like it's the last time he'll ever have the chance.

"Let me feel you cum James- fuck- do it inside me, I want you to cum inside me." Your hands are at the sides of his face, thumbs rubbing his temples affectionately as you lose your mind.

"Oh baby- shit doll- I'm gonna- oh my God- Fuck!" With that final exclamation he buries himself inside you, enchanting moans fall from his full lips as he tenses and fills you. You hold still and focus on the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you as he moans above you. His sounds are so full of relief and what must be exhaustion. Your eyes flutter open to observe him while he finishes. His eyebrows are high with his eyes shut and his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath while his orgasm fizzles out. His eyelids slowly peel apart and soon you're both watching each other. You're completely enthralled by the work of art above you, and he is entirely captured by the muse below him.

Slowly, like he doesn't want to ever leave, he inches his softening length out of you. You hate the feeling of him leaving your body, you hate how empty you feel. He presses a fond kiss to your forehead while he smooths some of your sweaty hair down.

"Don't move." He whispers. Then he's off of the bed and through his bedroom door, you assume to find something to get you both cleaned up.

Your body is still buzzing from every moment you've just shared with him, you gingerly roll to your side and pull the sheets up against your naked form. You pay little mind the mess spilling from your core, ignorant to the possible consequences it might have. You glance around his room, taking note of all the baseball cards, the toy cars, and the dirty sneakers. The room is bathed in the dull yellow streetlights, giving it a glow that seems otherworldly. It all does. Especially James.

He reappears with a washcloth and a glass of water. The sight makes your heart swell immeasurably, he's still naked but it doesn't strike you as anything to be bashful about. It's all of him, all of James and his unmatched beauty. It feels natural to be this exposed with each other, it feels right.

"Such a gentleman." You tease as he walks towards the bed so he can sit on the edge.

"For you? Of course." His smile is as dazzling as always while he hands you the glass of water. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can take the glass and sip it slowly. Thankful for the relief the cold liquid brings your exhausted throat.

"Spread those gorgeous legs." He says as he takes the glass back from you so he can set it on the nightstand.

"Round two already?" You joke.

His laugh is full and rich, it spreads through your veins and makes adoration bubble in your chest.

"Not yet, doll." He presses the cloth between your folds to clean up his mess, the sensation makes you jump a little, but he's done as quickly as he's started. The cloth joins a pile of dirty clothes in the corner after he tosses over his shoulder, then he's climbing back into bed with you. He opens his arms once he's on his back beside you. Naturally, you settle into his side and lay your head on his chest. His fingers trace along your spine as he kisses the crown of your head.

"You're a beautiful little thing." He mumbles, voice heavy with a sleepy tone.

"You're perfect, just perfect." It almost sounds like he's talking in his sleep, so you glance up to check.

He's wide awake, glacial eyes piercing your own as he gazes down at you.

"Thank you, for all of this." You say. By all of it, you mean for the love, for the spark of life, for the precious bond you've found. Somehow without saying all of it, you know he knows exactly what you mean.

"Thank you for loving an idiot like me." He says softly.

"It couldn't be anybody else." You say, completely resolute in your admittance.

You lay there like that for God knows how long, just drinking each other in. Mumbling words of praise, astounded by each other's existence. You exchange sweet little jokes, press priceless kisses into every inch of skin you can reach, and make beautiful promises.

"James?" You say as you draw figure eights on his chest with your finger tip.

"What happens next?" You question.

He takes a deep breath in as he twirls your hair between his fingers.

"Well-" He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening. You both bolt upright off the bed, clinging to the sheets. The sounds of lovely, soft laughter fills the house. One is the laugh of a woman, full and warm, the other is bright and twinkly, obviously belonging to a younger girl.

"Shit." You whisper simultaneously as you glance at each other with pounding hearts.

"James?" The woman's voice calls.

"Yeah ma?" James hollers back, hand coming to hold yours as he tries to keep his mouth straight, obviously entertained by the misfortune of the situation.

"Whose truck is that out front?" She asks, then footsteps start to echo as she climbs the stairs.

"Oh my God." You whisper.

"I guess you're meeting my mom, that's what happens next." He says quietly. Your eyes are on his immediately, every reasonable part of you says to panic, but the look on James' face is absolutely priceless. His cheeks are pink as he pulls his lips over his teeth to keep from busting out in laughter. It's ok though, you do it for him. Soon you're both doubling over with laughter, embracing the inevitable awkward encounter that you're about to have with his poor mother. It'll be ok, it'll be wonderful, anything will as long as you two stick together.

Taglist:

@b-o-n-e-daddy @lillsrecs @all-art-is-quite-useless @brownlee-22 @peace-love-hobbitness @pinknerdpanda @supernaturalwintersoldier @can-i-sin-right-now @pennyroyalcreep @jessyballet @calwitch @aurora-sweet @learisa

#bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #captain america #marvel smut #sebastian stan smut #winter solider x you #marvel

[favefandomimagines]

Goodbye Love (t.h.)

Summary: Tom doesn’t realize how much being shipped with another woman hurts you, until you leave.

AN: i did a concept like this with a ben hardy imagine so I thought I’d do it with Tom. This is old and is one of the 41 drafts i have saved but too scared to post lol SO i hope you enjoy (using hailey bieber as a face claim cause i felt weird having a faceless photo of someone on a red carpet) xx

Ever since Tom had finished filming Spider-Man: Far From Home, the tomdaya shippers have been in full swing.

Shipping them ten times as hard as they did the first time. It was easy to ignore but now it was getting hard. Especially when Tom isn’t doing anything to make it stop.

His fans found an interview of him, being asked if he found his Liz Allen in real life and when he answered yes, the video was edited to show videos and pictures of him and Zendaya. Even though in that interview he was talking about you.

Currently in Atlanta, you sat on the bed you shared with Tom, Tessa laying close to you, almost as if she knew that you were upset. You were waiting for Tom to come home, though you were a nervous wreck. How were you supposed to tell him how you felt and that you were going home for a little bit?

“Love, I’m home!” Tom called from the living room. You didn’t move and neither did Tessa. Which was odd because she always left to go greet Tom when he got home.

He entered the room and saw you two on the bed. “There are my girls.” He greeted with a smile on his face. He walked over and tried to kiss your lips but you moved your head so his lips landed on your cheek instead.

Tom looked at you for a moment, a curious look falling on his face. “What’s wrong?” He asked. Tom knew you inside and out and he could tell something was wrong with you.

You didn’t look up at him, just handed him your phone with the screenshots and screen recordings, of people praising him and Zendaya’s nonexistent relationship and degrading you and your real one.

“Two years, Tom. I’ve been going through this for two years.” You finally spoke. “At first, I ignored it. Knowing I could put up with it for a few months while the movie was out and you were doing press. Then it just kept getting worse. Seeing people call me terrible names and wanting you to break up with me and wanting me to-” You started but stopping yourself, the more intense comments being worse than most. “Y/N-“ He tried to speak. “And you know what the worst part is? You haven’t done a single thing to end it.” You cut him off.

You still hadn’t looked at him when you got off the bed and grabbed the two bags you packed.

Tom watched you place them on the bed and his heart started to beat faster and his eyes widened. “W-What are you doing?” He asked. “I think, I should go back to LA for a little bit and just let you think things through. Is letting your fans have some fun with the idea of tomdaya worth losing me?” You replied.

“Y/N, please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me.” Tom begged, tears welling up in his eyes. “We’re just taking a break, Tom. But if you decide that I’m not worth it, that’s going to be it.” You told him. You picked up the bags and headed towards the door when Tom grabbed your wrist. “Please don’t leave.” Tom whispered.

You looked at him for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I have too.” You whispered back. Tom reluctantly let go of your wrist as you opened the door.

Tessa got down off the bed and began to follow you out the bedroom door. The dog began to cry softly as you headed towards the front door of the airbnb. “Goodbye, love.” You said to Tom before exiting the house.

Tom watched you leave, the tears falling freely at that point. He didn’t know it had gotten so bad for you. He’s ignored the shipping a million times knowing it was you he loved but he never knew you were second guessing everything about your relationship and yourself.

He ran his hands through his hair out of frustration before retreating back to the bedroom.

***

It had been three weeks. Three weeks since he had seen you. Of course he’d seen the photos of you in LA. Just because you’re going through something emotionally, doesn’t mean your career stops.

You had been doing a bunch of press for the TV season you had just wrapped before you went to Atlanta with Tom. It was the best idea you could think of to get your mind off of Tom.

He wasn’t having such luck. Everything reminded him of you and he wasn’t the same knowing that your relationship was in the balance. And everyone around him noticed.

“Tom, what’s going on?” Zendaya asked him one day. “Y/N didn’t leave for work, she left because of the fans shipping you and I. She couldn’t take it anymore.” Tom answered. “What do you mean?” She asked. “I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and you’re supposed to be her friend and yet we let thousands of people ship us together, without even thinking of how that could make Y/N feel.” Tom ranted.

Zendaya had never thought of that before. She didn’t realize just how cruel the fans were until she checked while she was talking to Tom.

“Oh yeah. This is, uh, very bad.” Zendaya said. Tom looked at her phone and noticed that there were new comments.

‘Y/N is so beneath Tom. Zendaya is a queen’

‘Y/N should just kill herself.’

‘Y/N’s show is gonna flop and then tom will see how much better zendaya is’

‘tomdaya is better.’

Tom’s stomach twisted seeing all the negative comments about his girlfriend and one wanting her to end her life. If they were really his fans, they’d support him 100%. “How could they be so cruel?” Tom asked. “I don’t know but maybe we do need to say something.” Zendaya replied.

“I need to get her to come back.” He muttered. “You setting your fans straight will do that.” Zendaya told him. Tom nodded his head before taking out his phone and posting an old picture of you at the Infinity War premiere.

@tomholland2013: i am going to be blunt and i’ve never done this before so bear with me. but the constant shipping of Zendaya and I, had gotten out of hand. I am in a happy and loving relationship with the woman in this photo. You don’t have to like it but you have to respect it. Y/N is the love of my life and seeing her being brought down my total strangers, breaks my heart. No fan of mine brings her down. And that’s that. @y/f/n_y/l/n

You got the notification that Tom had tagged you in a photo. Swiping your phone, you read the caption carefully. “He finally did it.” You said to yourself. But why now, two weeks later?

That conversation wasn’t one to have over the phone so you had your agent get you the next flight to Atlanta.

“Are you sure you want to leave half way through press?” She asked you. “I have too. Everyone will understand, they know how much Tom means to me.” You answered. “Okay. Your flight lands at 9:45 and pack an umbrella. There’s supposed to be a huge storm when you land.” She told you. You gave her a gracious smile before getting in your Uber.

***

Tom sat on the couch, quietly watching whatever soccer game was on, only wishing you were there next to him. You hated watched soccer with him because of how competitive he got but whenever he asked, you watched with him. 

He was knocked out of his reminiscing by the sound of his phone vibrating. Seeing it was Harrison, he sighed but picked it up. “Hello?” He answered. “Are you still sulking?” Harrison asked his best friend. “What do you think?” Tom retorted. “You have to stop that, Tom. She’ll come back when she’s ready.” Harrison told him. 

Tom sighed, knowing well that Harrison could hear. “Look, you saw the comments. They’re terrible. Telling her to kill herself so that you and Zendaya can finally be together. You don’t get over something like that over a few nights.” He added. “I know, but I just wish I could make it better. It’s been three weeks.” Tom said. “I know but you did all you can do. It’s all up to her now.” Harrison said. 

Tom knew his best friend was right. He knew you needed time to yourself, to make sure you were fully ready to come back to him. “But, if it’s any consolation, I had a surprise sent to your doorstep.” Harrison added. “What?” Tom questioned. “And you might wanna hurry up and bring it inside before it gets absolutely soaked.” He said. 

With furrowed eyebrows Tom got off the couch with his phone still pressed to his ear. “What are you on about?” Tom asked him. “Just do it.” Harrison ordered. Tom rolled his eyes and walked towards the door. He opened it up to reveal a soaking wet you. 

“Hi, love.” You greeted him, the sound of the rain nearly drowning out your voice. “Y/N, w-wha- you’re here.” Tom stammered. “Yes, I am now can you please let me inside before I get pneumonia?” You asked with a small laugh. 

Tom didn’t let you inside but instead hung up the phone and walked outside to pull you into him. He didn’t care if you were soaked from the rain or the fact that he was also getting wet as well. The only thing that mattered to him was you. 

“Tom, you’re going to get sick.” You told him, breaking the silence. “I don’t care. That’s the last thing I care about. I just need to hold you.” He replied.

You let go and looked up at him for a moment. “Y/N, I was a mess without you. You are everything to me and not having you here was hell.” Tom told you. “I love you, I am so in love with you. And I’m so sorry.” He added.

You didn’t say anything at first but wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down closer to you, to place a deep kiss on his lips.

Pulling apart, he rested his forehead on yours. “Let’s get inside before you catch a cold.” You told him, pushing him inside the house.

Tessa barked and ran to you and a large smile made it’s way to your face. “Tess! I missed you!” You greeted the dog, crouching down to her level. Tom smiled at the sight, feeling as if everything was back to normal.

“Y/N,” Tom started, causing you to turn to face him. He offered you his hand, which you took, to help you up from your crouched position. “I will never make you feel unimportant again. I am so sorry.” He said. You gave him a warm smile before kissing him gently.

“I know. It’s okay.” You replied. “I love you, Y/N. With everything I have.” He told you. “And I love you.” You said, the two of you plus Tessa cuddling on the couch for the night. 

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker #spiderman #marvel #zendaya #imagine #Avengers infinity war