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chimcess · 2 months

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Waterlog || pjm (2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

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

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

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

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

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

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

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

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

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

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

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

“Damn, these are nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time are we getting your car?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shook my head, “What about you?”

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

“I’ll be alright.”

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

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

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

“Me too.”

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

“You can leave,” I told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chuckled, “That bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got it, coach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” He was incredulous.

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

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

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

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

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

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

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will someone else be with you?”

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

“Darcy’s his girlfriend, right?” I wanted to see if my hunch from the other night was right.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for a couple of years now. She’s alright. Not as shy as you.”

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

Then I made a critical mistake. Looking over at Jimin, I nearly choked on my own spit. His skin was perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight, and cream-colored. His body was just as pretty as his face, smooth abs and a tiny waist that led to toned and thick thighs. The tiny scrap of red fabric covering his private area did not stop my eyes from glancing. I looked away before I started to stare.

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

“I know you are,” He teased, his voice so soft and sweet. I briefly wondered what he would sound like in bed. I fought desperately to rid myself of that imagery. This could not be happening right now. “You’re so shy you can’t even look at me right now.”

His cocky attitude should have annoyed me, but instead it only further fueled my lust. Every time I had seen this man, he gave me such tonal whiplash it was beginning to drive me insane. First it was this innocent little angel facade that quickly became sarcastic and witty when he decided he could play around without me getting angry. Then it was the whole sad puppy thing he had going on for the last week. Now here he was, practically naked and getting riled up over me telling him what to do, and puffing his chest with confidence I never thought he was capable of. It would have pissed me off if I did not find him ridiculously attractive.

“Go get dressed, Park,” My voice was clipped and too harsh. I winced and quickly worked to soften the blow. Getting defensive only made me look worse. “We can get breakfast if you’re not busy. My treat.”

“Sure, coach.”

When I heard the locker room close, I let out a deep sigh. My sexual frustration was getting in the way of my work, and I hated it. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I sent Hoseok a text.

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

The reply did not come until I was done packing up my things. The workout stuff I had brought with me had been useless today, but I was afraid of forgetting where they were the next time I might need them, so they never left the bag. My phone vibrated just as I was done zipping up my bag. I could hear the shower in the locker room and clenched my thighs together. I was still thinking of how pretty his belly was, the tattoo on his ribs pitch-black against his pale skin, and how solid his calves looked. I unlocked my phone and nearly cried laughing when I saw the response.

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

Hobi: Never thought I’d see the day you became a cougar

I have no idea why I thought he would be any help. So, I licked my wounds and messaged Andy (like I should have done in the first place) and knew whatever she had to say would be far more helpful than my stupid best friend’s word of “advice.” I just had to hope it would be enough to make all of these feelings stop.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

Text

There are two different versions of ATSV in theatres - and the only difference between them in Hobie Brown.

Okay ya'll I came across something so bizarre.

So I've seen Across the Spiderverse twice now, and my theatre was going to stop showing it this weekened - so I went to see it one more time.

Originally, I had seen version one. I knew there were two out there, but I had only heard of version 2. This time I saw it. And the ALL the differences has to do with Hobie Brown.

My man really hate consistency, I guess.

LOOK: This is the shot of Hobie saying 'I quit' that's most used. - THIS is version one

But when I went this time, this is what I saw:

THIS IS VERSION 2. (omggggggg!!!!)

As you can tell, instead of his normal colors - in this shot Hobie is a violet-pink instead, with a lot more texturing on his model.

And these are common throughout Hobie's screentime!

If you saw the top photo - you saw version one.

If you saw the bottom photo - you saw version two.

Chances are if you watched the movie early in it's release (first week or so), or you watched a fancam you have seen version 1.

I was able to capture most of the changes on camera - and it's kinda jarring to see but omg i find it so interesting!!!

I took photos of all the differences and compare them down below, including an explanation of why this happened.

Please let me know which version you saw, and when you saw the movie! Have you seen both versions? I'm so curious!

For the first half of Hobie's appearance the two version are entirely the same - except for what seems like either a different take or wording of his 'Gwendy, how much have you told him-' line. However, the changes begin at the end of Hobie's scene with Miles.

I spoke here about how in some versions Hobie says 'Don't enlist unless you know what war you're fighting', while others 'Don't enlist unless you know just who you're fighting'.

But the biggest differences are his last scene.

Last week I used THIS screencap that was taken from a Version 1 fancam. In it, Hobie is in full color:

In Version 2, he's pink. Also - it's extremely faint in the photo, but if you look closer you can see there are also red spiderwebs behind the blue ones in Version 2:

You can see his pink color better here:

Later in the scene, Hobie changes colors. In Version 1, he maintains the same normal color scheme for the duration of the scene, however in Version 2 he's changing back and forth - even turning black and white at one point.

Version 1:

Version 2:

And can I just say -

This is to show how Hobie is literally the only one in the room who is 1) Literally and physically 'in Miles' corner, (literally) standing 'in the right' - to the right of Miles,

and 2) the only one being honest to Miles (why he turns black and white, he also turns black and white while talking about Miles' parents.)

As the scene goes on, Hobie stays this color - which leads to one of my favorite differences:

His last shot.

In Version 1 - Hobie is white & black for one shot, as he says 'Here we go'. This is the same.

However - for version one, he returns to his natural color for his final line of the scene - 'Good'. And for Version 2, he turns purple.

So why did this happen?

According to the ATSV there are two (and only two) versions that were released in US theatres. Version 1 was released when Sony shipped early copies to translators so they could translate the script for international viewing. The version sent was about 98% done, and made to give the translators a jumpstart prior to release.

However, that version ended up being released.

Afterwards they swapped it out with the full, correct version - Version 2.

It seems like Hobie wasn't meant to be natural colored for the duration of the Canon-Events scene, and that in the whole film, he was the final thing they were putting touches on.

There are other small changes in version 2 - including when Miguel calls for backup - in Version 1 Lyla points at Miguel, however in Version 2 she takes a selfie with him on a AI cell-phone.

In Version 1 - Miles says 'No, no no!' at Pavitrs chai scolding, and 'Sorry, sorry' in Version 2. There are other small adlibs, and they said they removed Gwen's voicelines when she was searching for Miles and the child in the rubble (?? don't know why).

I also think - and I DON'T KNOW, I haven't checked my recording but I did record it - I THINK the watercoloring in Gwen's scenes have different colors in some shots, or different strokes, but only subtly. It just looked more detailed and vibrant to me, but idk. But the trans colors remain completely untouched in every way.

However, it seems that your best and most obvious way of telling which version you saw is by looking at Hobie's lines and coloring in different scenes.

Mans really hates consistency, damn.

______________________________________________

Outside of some split-second shots and ablids, He's the only things that's largely changed, and when seeing it in the theatre today I was literally shocked as HELL. When he said 'eh, what of it?', I was like 'mfer WHY R U PINK'. I hadn't noticed until right then. But I'm literally over the moon I got to see both, I feel like I found something secret.

Maybe being Hobie obsessed and Neurodivergent pays off.

Oh - and here's two more shots that were also changed that I didn't get footage of. If you have a photo or footage of these shots from Version 2 - PLEASE post or send them to me. Thanks!

Version 1 - 'What of it?' / In Version 2 he is a BRIGHT pink color

Version 1 - Standing behind Miles while talking to Miguel / In Version 2 he is black and white with newspaper around him (also doesnt he look so cute look at that slutty waist ugh)

SO uhhhhh yeah Idk if anyone else finds this interesting but I DO and I enjoyed it so much and I WISH I could get better footage of Version 2.

Had I not watched his scenes everyday for weeks and wrote out a dissertation about every one of his lines I might not have noticed lol

If you're not normal about Hobie Brown and found this interesting like me, thanks! Let me know if you read this far and please tell me what version you saw and when you saw it! Ok thxs again bye :)

#hobie brown #miles morales #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #atsv #gwen stacy #spiderman #spider man #spider gwen #miguel o'hara #spiderpunk #spider punk

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vashtijoy · 8 months

Text

whose phone is that, anyway? character signature colours and yoshizawa's phone

There is a perennial debate over what's going on with Yoshizawa's phone. Isn't it Kasumi's phone that she's dragging around for reasons? What's even wrong with it, and why?

I have no opinion on the last two questions (other than that her difficulty communicating likely symbolises the things she's hiding from herself and others.) But I do think we can put that first question, of ownership, to bed.

First let's take a quick look at...

character colour coding

Most playable characters in P5 are assigned a colour, which is used more-or-less consistently for various things. For instance, their chat icons use them:

Their gloves use them. Makoto is the exception here with white gloves (perhaps because she uses fist weapons, so her gloves are always hidden?):

More to the point? Their phones are all colour coded:

Clockwise from the top: Ryuji (gold), Ann (hot pink), Yusuke (pale blue), Haru (purple), Futaba (green) and Makoto (dark blue).

royal trio: joker

The Royal Trio throw this nice little arrangement for an absolute loop.

First off, let's take a look at Joker. Silver phone (you may have observed it). No chat icon that we ever see to my knowledge, though it seems highly unlikely that he wouldn't have a red one. And indeed, his gloves are red. (as you may also have observed)

royal trio: akechi

Our resident Gemini, of course, stomps in with his steel-capped kicker boots and does everything twice. He's got two pairs of gloves, which match his apparent alignment (white or black, with his "day gloves" being black):

And his phone? Well, it's red (though the anime has it as dark grey, because, again, never not extra). Because, to this day, he's still playing hero—with the emphasis by now very much on "playing"—and part of him still wants to be the hero....

So Joker and Akechi have a reverse colour scheme going on with their phones: Joker has the silver/white/colourless phone that you might expect Akechi to have, and Akechi has the red one you'd expect Joker to have. Or rather, Joker has the "bad guy" phone while Akechi has the "good guy" phone, because he's a fucking liar and because each of them, to a greater or lesser extent, is walking that line between hero and villain.

As for his chat icon, it was grey in vanilla [source], while in Royal it was changed to brown. So: two sets of gloves, two chat icons, two phones (if we count the anime). Complicated.

what about yoshizawa?

Just like Joker and Akechi, Yoshizawa is too cool to be bound by any stupid dress code... pretty much. Her outfit is essentially girl Joker, and so her gloves are red, like his. Her chat icon is a deep purply-pink—more hot pink than Ann's, in fact, whose colour hot pink is!

It's possible her icon is meant to be red, but it's been shifted to purply-pink because a red icon on a red background would look bad.

But there are a couple of other things we can look at. And they tell us it's incredibly likely that the malfunctioning phone Yoshizawa carries through the game is not Kasumi's, but her own.

Remember that Yoshizawa's codename, Violet, is taken from her true given name Sumire—which means "violet". In Maruki's Palace, there's a cinematic of her with the real Kasumi during their accident, where both girls have umbrellas. Kasumi's is yellow—but Sumire's?

It's violet. And what colour is Yoshizawa's phone, when she pulls it out on 10/3, still believing that she's Kasumi?

It's violet. Violet for her true name, violet for her codename. Violet like the umbrella she carried when Kasumi died. This is clearly Sumire's phone, not Kasumi's.

Why is it broken? Still damaged in the accident, maybe?—Sumire is knocked flying. Unconsciously sabotaged? Space pixies? Who knows.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #sumire yoshizawa #the squad

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strawhatkia · 9 months

Text

luvr boy.

INCLUDES ! izuku midoriya x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! general relationship headcanons with izuku !

WARNINGS ! cursing, fem!black! reader, we still in high school y’all, a little uraraka slander (read to understand), edited

WORD COUNT ! 1.6k

A/N ! another repost, i had to break it up bc it was a lot of text - izuku motherfucking midoriya. the blasian himself. isaiah niggadoriya. him with a black female? him with a melanated goddess? i think it god’s greatest gift to give izuku ‘deku’ midoriya a beautiful, melanated, healing black woman and for me to write about it.❤️🥰 also, i hate the way uraraka is written and i will not hold back

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST | BNHA MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊ 👊🏻 📗✧

pretty boy- the prettiest

alright!! let’s start with wash day!!

…nigga did not know shit-

poor baby grew up with inko, bless her straight headed soul, so he had no clue how to probably take care of his hair

all he had was h e a t d a m a g e

“zuku, how do you do your hair?” “huh?” “like what do you do?” “uh well, nothing really, i just wash it, that’s it.” “…” “what? why are you making that face- IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY HAIR?!?”

everything…everything is wrong…

aight sis, grab yo detangler, rat-tail comb, hard brush, sulfate-free shampoo, co-wash, conditioner, deep conditioner, protein treatment, all your oils, patience, and strength

and for the love of everything that is great- throw away his 3-in-1 before he give me a fucking heart attack

chile- you couldn’t even see his fucking scalp. his hair was so matted and curled up tightly together that it hurt to look at it

don’t let him go out this house like this no mo, hear me?

but it’s nothing you can’t fix, give the lil boy head some TLC and watch them curls pop!

first wrap that towel around his shoulders, put a pillow on the floor and sit him down in between ya legs and start the marathon of old all might and black people movies you gon’ be there for a while

lil boy would not sit still and he was tender-headed pick a struggle; at this point it was either get popped by you or suffer the pain from his scalp…he chose the latter

mans almost fell asleep while you was shampooing his hair and when you put the hot oil treatment on his scalp- slumber

after everything, you twisted his hair and gave him a bonnet

“uhm...why are you giving me a hat?” you almost slapped the taste outta his damn mouth

after explaining, he put it on; little did he know it was an expect copy to yours, just a different size

“baby, we’re matching!” ”yes, izu, we are. do you wanna take pictures?” you have just made his night.

the pictures were posted all over insta and has them pinned on his account you betta bet mina was all in the damn comment section ; later, he would print them out and put them on his desk so he can look at when he sat down or went to bed

when you took his hair down the next day, he went to the mirror and baby had stars in his eyes

“it looks so cool!” “i’m glad you like it, izu”

he talks about you to all might all the fucking time to the point they both know you better than ya damn self

which is really annoying because all might be wanting them "one on one" talks and it will irk you to talk to him because everything will be "but young midoriya said..."

to be honest, he went to all might for love advice....don’t ever let him do that again. mans was using the most corniest lines but since it was izuku, he got away with- tell me you not cheesing thinking about him saying the "roses are red, violets are blue line" with the cutest blush...im waiting

golden hour, his favorite time of the day

this man will drop everything just to see you at golden hour like when the sun is just starting to set, he will rush into ya dorm room just to watch you

it's like therapy for him to see you relaxing under the setting sun and see your brown skin shining, i just feel like this time would be the time he reminds himself that he is incredibly lucky to have you and will literally do anything to keep you relaxed like this

"zuku babes, what are you looking at?" "nothing~" "whew boy you are so far gone" "hm?" "oh! uh...love you !" "hm, love you too~"

side note: ...if you hear a camera click, don't be surprised

izuku loves affection, giving and receiving

his giving love languages is acts of service and a lil bit of quality time; his receiving love language is physical touch and words of affirmation

so it’s important that you meet in the middle and give him praise, shit works like a charm

go up to him, pat and rub his curls and tell him that he did a good job and one of two things will happen

one: he'll tear up a lot and ask if you're sure or two: he'll blush really fucking hard

as for his giving love, he'll just kinda follow you now until he is told to leave. don’t do that. just don’t.

let him leave on his own, you'll make him feel like he's bothering you otherwise

ask him for cuddles, he’ll drop almost anything he is doing to do so

even if you just drop hints about it, he’ll just smile and just take you somewhere quiet before sitting down or laying down to take a nap with you (nap dates with zuku !)

i think my heart just busted outta my chest i love him so fucking much

if you wanna match his acts of service, when he’s sick or just really busy at hero work studies, take notes for him in class. he will love you forever i promise.

and best believe, that he wants your attention on him at all times

remember them head pats? let’s say you give them to todoroki or tsu for doing some reason

poor thing is definitely sitting in a corner somewhere sulking

he doesn’t want to get upset because that’s his friends and he's glad that you are getting along but he would be lying if he didn't feel a little salty about it

later on, he will ask for some and if you refuse for any reason, he’ll look at you like you just tore out his heart…cause ya did

and GOD FORBID if you give more attention to bakugo instead of him…it is now in God’s hands

he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from bakugo, not before throwing him a glare which later on ensues another fight between them

he only did it because he doesn’t like you getting too close to bakugo, no matter how much he cares about him being his childhood friend

i would like to think there's always that underlying fact that yes, you can handle yourself, but he also knows just how capable bakugou is and lowkey does not want to risk it

please remind him that you do love him and that he is a good boyfriend with all the hugs, cuddles, and all that other good shit

he loves to write about you in his notes, he has AT LEAST 4 notebooks about everything about you as well as somethings he wish to say to you and a little souvenirs from moments between you two that he found special

he has a special item from the time he figured out that he loved you and wrote down in detail what happened and how he felt about it

when you find these notebooks, do not, i repeat, DO NOT tell him that you found. just take the damn notebook while you can and run

give it back and you'll never see it again.

but most definitely tell him about all the things you read and watch him turn bright red

“so, you did get jealous when I gave Sero that hug the other day?” “HUH?!?!? H- H- HOW DID YOU FIND OUT!!?” “*holds up notebook marked ‘Y/n L/n’* Maybe because wrote about it…in detail” *cue the screams of embarrassment and horror*

nah but the amount of times the boy has gone off on a tangent about the little things he loves about you in there will get you flustered-

for drama sake, let’s talk about uraraka

short story: you almost knocked that bitch teeth in

long story: yes, deku used to like her and yes, she almost got him but that did not work out and guess who got him first ! tbh, you started out good friends with uraraka apart from the dekusquad but she never told you about her lil crush until it was too damn late !

and little miss thing was not happy about it; “after all this time…he gets with her!!”

i think you noticed at first her lil sly ass actions and remarks but don’t give in, let her make a fool of herself and watch her run around in circles

be calm and stay two steps ahead, it will work out in your favor ! and it did !

the next person that noticed was tsu, however, she was on your side about this because she hates petty shit and people so what uraraka was doing was not to her liking at all !

the other two, iida and shoto, caught on to it (iida wanting uraraka to at least remain civil and shoto just watching from afar) but deku remained oblivious for a while

he just wanted to be friends with everyone so he kinda just...didn't notice or thought she was mad about something else

i feel like uraraka would get beside herself and start saying reckless ass shit to express her frustration but it would only end up with her getting her ass beat and shunned from the group until she got her act together

you can guess what she said but all imma say is….she really lost her god damn mind and paid the price

what's worse is she really did try to make it seem like you stole from her...but dum dum was the one who didn't speak up? until the very last minute? which...sounds like a personal problem? sssoooooo, stay mad?

everyone in class did figure it out and it was just lowkey sad to see her get so messy but in the end !

izuku loves you very much and would do anything for you

you are his happiness and he’s thinking about spending forever with you

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

wanna read more ??

lip gloss, lil mama. | f. | multiple characters

boyfriend. | f. | katsuki bakugo

love you more when the day is new. | f. | multiple characters

taglist : @mypimpademia @sevvnt @cosmiles @megurulvr @miirene

izuku taglist: @cosmiles

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maracujatangerine · 1 month

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82. Taking Note

CW: mental health issues, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

The pale light of an overcast winter’s day flattened all the colours; the yellow curtains, the violet saintpaulia on the windowsill, the pet’s own blonde hair, everything taking on a washed-out tinge of grey. Coriander sat at the kitchen table, pen in hand, staring at a blue notebook. Miss Lydia had asked it to choose one of the notebooks at her bookshop yesterday.

“Perhaps you would like to try writing down your thoughts?” She had suggested, gently. “It is not for me to read. I promise that I won’t. Cross my heart, and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!”

She laughed, but the look in her brown eyes was serious.

“You can write down anything you want, and it will be for your eyes only, okay?”

The pet had nodded and told her that it understood. Now, Miss Lydia was out. She had gone for coffee with Cecilia, and the pet had elected to stay at home.

The notebook it had chosen had a Japanese-style drawing of a cresting wave on the cover, the white tips of the wave rendered with splashes in glossy silver. The white pages were neatly lined in black.

The radio was on in the background, a piece by Händel tugging at some half-remembered string at the back of the pet’s mind. Cory knew that Miss Lydia had left Radio 3 on for the pet’s sake, but that she wouldn’t mind if it changed the station, just like she hadn’t minded that the pet had chosen to stay behind when she went out.

It used to agonise endlessly over such small decisions. Did Miss Lydia want it to say yes or no? Would this thing make it a better pet, or would that?

Nowadays, more and more, it felt like it could trust that its owner said what she meant. If she needed it to come, she would let it know. If she gave it a choice, she truly wanted it to make up its own mind.

That was an unprecedented freedom. Generosity beyond its wildest dreams. It knew it was extraordinarily lucky.

It should be happy, should it not?

And it was grateful, it was!

But happiness eluded it

In the beginning, everything had brought it joy. Or, well, at least relief.

Having its wounds treated, feeling its body healing, aches and pains receding to the back of its mind and gradually fading away.

Hunger, the dull gnawing of an empty stomach, the weakness and loss of focus that comes with days and days without enough food to eat. The terrible fear of feeling your own body consuming itself to stay alive. No more!

In its life with Miss Lydia, Coriander could still feel hungry, sometimes. At the end of a long day, before lunch at work, out on a hike in the woodlands. But it never felt truly hungry. That bottomless need for sustenance was a thing of the past.

These things brought relief. The joy came later.

Miss Lydia gently petting its hair, and Coriander genuinely wanting - and daring - to lean into her touch.

Playing the tin whistle for Miss Indira and the doctor responding with enthusiastic applause.

Laughing together with Miss Lydia without the pet having to carefully guard every word to avoid angering its owner.

Working at the shop and being given a nod of approval from Miss Carla at a job well done.

Sitting in the garden and watching flowers bloom from seeds they had sown together.

These were all things of joy, of beauty. Miss Lydia was consistently fair and kind. The pet felt healthy now, strong, even. Its damaged shoulder still impeded its daily life, its scars ached sometimes, and the nightmares refused to go away, but these were mere trifles in the grand scheme of things.

So, why wasn’t it happy?

It should be. It had been.

But now, lately, it was like some undefined malaise had taken hold of the pet. A depressing weight that suffused everything, that stole joy out of everything, just like the grey winter light leaked the colours away.

Looking down on the pages, the pet realised it had written the same sentence over and over.

Why did this happen to me?

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #whump fic #pet whumpee #lydia and coriander #writeblr #original writing

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suguaotruther · 7 days

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What If: Kieran agrees to letting Juliana handle his hair in Chapter 15 of Azure Dive?

This is a snippet I decided to do because yesterday, it was a certain author's birthday. But I couldn't finish on time because my internet died for the remainder of my night. So @dipplinduo, have this day late birthday present ;w;

“Want me to fix your hair up a bit?” Juliana offers, showing a spare hair band in the palm of her hand. She must’ve detected the hesitant look in his dark yellow eyes. “I’m just going to put it into a ponytail, nothing fancy or eye-catching!” And there was that reassuring tone of hers which had a habit of melting away his concerns. How does she do it? How can she just easily calm his nerves like that? It was frustrating she had that much control over him, after everything.

But, on the other hand he decided to humor her a bit. His hair was a beast to tackle as Carmine liked to put it. Which is why it used to be the unruly mess it was known for. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt I guess.” He tried to come across to her in an aloof manner. That was how cool people do it right? He was cool.

“Then come sit in front of me, I won't bite.” Juliana had that irritably cute smile on her face that reminded him of sunflowers. He moves over to sit in front of her with his legs now criss-cross flapplesauce. Kieran could hear Juliana crawl up to him a bit more, she must be standing on her knees to accommodate the height difference they now shared.

“Just a ponytail.” He huffs, looking down at the floor of the violet tent they were in.

“Of course! Do you want it high, low, or in the middle?”

Frankly, Kieran didn’t really care but, if he had to answer her back. “Middle.” There was something weirdly electrifying about having Juliana this close to him. And she hugged him mere moments ago!

“Gotcha! This won’t take long!”

Kieran lightly tenses up the moment he felt her fingers run through his hair, it felt different. It felt… intimate with the way her nails lightly scratch his scalp, the strands of his hair sliding off her fingers. He eases up because it felt nice.

“You have such pretty hair Kieran, I’m jealous. Can I brush it?” Juliana asks with her voice filled with warmth and Kieran mumbles a yes. Trying to mask away his eagerness for more of her touch. Soon a brush made contact with his hair, and that felt nice too. He could fall asleep to how gentle and soothing Juliana was messing with his hair. He closes his eyes letting out a soft sigh and slight shiver over how good it is. He could get used to this. The birds were chirping outside, the tree leaves lightly rustling, all while they were in this tent. It was the two of them. No Champion of Paldea. No Champion of Blueberry Academy. Just him and her. Sharing this soft moment with no prying eyes and hardly any words between them. Their actions meaning far more than simple words. With Kieran just melting into her from the experience.

Locks of his hair were being bundled up into her hand and Kieran felt it being bound together by the hair band shortly after. Kieran turned around slowly while Juliana sat down again, grabbing her phone to show him what she did to his hair. He liked it. Rather than just one color covering over the other, there were locks of mauve and black mixing in neatly with each other. With the short ponytail being right at the middle just like he said he wanted. “Thanks.”

“Mhm, you’re welcome.” Juliana smiles fondly at him. Kieran didn’t know what overcame him but he decided to impulsively run a hand through her side ponytail. “K-Kieran?” Juliana’s cheeks were rosy.

“Your hair has grown longer too…” He murmurs, gently feeling her soft chestnut brown hair against his hand.

“Y-Yeah…” Juliana responds, her soft blue eyes with violet hues didn’t move away from his own. Even when Kieran boldly moved on from her hair to running the back of his fingers down the side of her face. He could feel his ears getting warm when he witnesses her subconsciously lean into his touch. She liked being touched by him as he liked being touched by her.

“Juliana…I-”

“HEY! I SEE YOU’RE BOTH AWAKE IN THERE!” Came the most obnoxious and loudest voice, that Kieran began having not so pleasant thoughts about the source of said voice. “FOOD IS ALMOST READY!” Crispin when I get my hands on you….

Juliana immediately flinches back, her face incredibly red and no longer able to meet his gaze. “O-Oh yeah! Don’t want the food to be cold! We should get going!” Juliana started to crawl out of the tent in a rush.

“Yeah… we should.” Kieran looks down at his hand that was just on her face. Mentally screaming at himself, he could feel his face match the same shade of red as Juliana's.

Silently memorizing and burning everything that happened in this tent into his mind for many years to come.

#dipplinshipping #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #kieran pokemon #pokemon #my snippets #Happy Birthday Dipplin!#And now back to working on Chapter 21

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lunarmoonanons · 1 year

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Among Dragon Royalty

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN has a hard time her first few hours in the red keep. The servants are too watchful. And the royals are strange and pale, their violet eyes unnerving to the girl.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

It took several maids to undress the strange child, intending to bathe her once she had arrived at the red keep; as the girl kicked and scratched at the strangers who grabbed her clothing. YN did not want to give up her clothes for some strange royal clothes; her skirts had design and meaning, her shawl was made by her mother, everything she wore had some type of significance to her.

Her fight increased when she noticed them reach for her satchel. YN lunged forward and slapped the woman who touched it. “Don’t touch my things!” The little girl sneered. Before the woman could get angry, the queen came into the room followed by a little boy with white hair.

“Darling, you must get cleaned. Please do not hurt the servants.” The queen asked, reaching forward to stroke her hair. Marveling at the thicker texture. “I have realized, sweetling. You have not spoken your name. May I have it?”

YN looked suspiciously at the woman, her strange purple eyes offered nothing but kindness and loyalty. “You may not have my name, you can call me YN.” A repeated phrase left YN’s lips, something she had said many times in dark lands from where she came.

“Well YN, I know this must be strange to you. It’s strange to us that a child who does not have the blood of old valyria could command such a large dragon.” Alysanne knelt to the girl, her words confusing the boy who stood at her side.

“Is that why you all look so strange? You have this old blood?” YN asked.

“Yes love, we are of old valyria. Perhaps your blood contains the same magic.” Alysanne told the girl.

“Mama, if she is valyrian like us, why does she look so different?” The boy asked.

“I am from a dark place. I don’t remember much.” YN said. “I will bathe myself, I am more comfortable that way.”

“Of course, you must join us for dinner. My husband and I wish to know you more.” Alysanne nodded. She felt such a maternal need for the girl. When she heard her fighting the maids, she almost had them taken for treason against her baby. How strange that she thought of YN as her baby already. But hearing the girl kick and struggle awoken such a fire in her, she felt so compelled to burn them. Luckily Aemon had been there to calm her.

When Alysanne stood to leave the room, YN shot up suddenly and placed a hand on the woman’s stomach. Her eyes flashed a dark deep red for only a moment before returning to their original almost black brown.

“I can feel a dragon in there. You’re going to have a baby this year.” YN said simply. Turning to the tub, YN did not notice the woman slowly and hesitantly bring her hands to her stomach. With teary eyes Alysanne tentatively rubbed the area.

“Are you sure?” She asked with a shaky breath.

“Yes. I can feel a dragon presence, it’s not mature or alive like you. But it’s the stirrings of the dragon blood there.” YN turned to Aemon, patting his head. “Your dragon blood is singing too, I think you’ll fly high with dragons.”

Aemon smiled at the girl who was only a year older than him. He didn’t seem thrilled when he heard his parents were bringing a child home, he was still missing Dany. But when he finally saw her, his mind went from apprehension to joy at the sight of a sister and playmate. Baelon was fun but as he was still so small Aemon wanted a playmate who could keep up. Like his parents, his blood felt for her but in a loyal sense of children who deemed each other playmates for life.

“Will we play later?” The boy asked.

YN smiled and nodded. Truly, she also just wanted to play around as a child would, now with the opportunity presenting itself YN felt a warm tingly feeling in her stomach. Excitement. When Alysanne carted Aemon away to allow the girl to bathe, YN stared at the dragon tapestries. Drifting away in her memory.

A memory of shadow binders dancing around a fire. Of their shadows dancing on the walls, but not matching the moments of the bodies they were meant to mimic. She dazed off to a memory of the shadow mountains, where she heard calls of old dragons. Her mind was not focused, hopping from faded memory to faded memory, but always being pulled back to the heart of darkness, and an abstract burning figure.

So it seems that the dragon blood in the Targaryen family sings to YN as well, it does not hypnotize her though. Perhaps that is due to the strange place from her memory.

Taglist:

@missglaskin

#house targaryen #yandere targaryens #targaryens #poc reader #yandere alysanne #aemon #aemon targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #yandere house targaryen #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #alysanne targaryen #The Dragon Dancer

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optiwashere · 2 months

Note

For the prompt fill: B5 with Asheera/Shadowheart because I love those two so much!

Thank you so much for the love of the girls, and for requesting this one 💜

You can send a prompt from this list + a ship or platonic pair, and I'll write a ficlet!

---

B5. A character that isn't used to being protected finds someone who will protect them from anything

In the darkness of the House of Grief, on a set of violet-and-gold clad stairs, Shadowheart waited. Waited for what, she didn't know. For a hand on her shoulder to wake her and tell her this was all a terrible nightmare, perhaps. Her hair would be black again and she would wear the circlet of the Dark Lady with pride instead of disgust.

There would be one missing in the barracks if she woke just then. A half-orc with an easy smile, gentle laugh, and careful hands. A paladin that promised so much and never once failed her.

When Shadowheart opened her eyes, she saw nothing but the purple flames of lit braziers and her companions taking the steps into the shadows below. Ready to fight for her. The Mother Superior wouldn't sit and suffer this insolence, and somewhere deep within herself Shadowheart knew that her initial mission to retrieve the Prism was full of strange instructions, holes in their team's composition, and more. It was all coming to this.

And these people were willing to fight for her. Someone they'd known for a few months.

Why?

"Is everything all right?"

Asheera's voice dispelled the reverie from her mind, and Shadowheart glanced over at the woman that she found herself falling for despite all of this. Despite every bit of her being so tired of it all already, Shadowheart couldn't deny that she looked to Asheera at the lowest of her moments.

"I'm fine," lied Shadowheart.

Asheera shook her head. "You're not."

A long silence was all Shadowheart gave her in answer. She was so close to seeing her parents, yet she didn't know what would happen. Voicing her concern felt impossible.

"You know I won't let them hurt your parents," Asheera whispered, stepping closer to her. "Or you. Ever again. If I knew their names, I would swear an oath on it."

Shadowheart reached out, slipping her gloved hand into Asheera's gauntleted one. They both squeezed tight. She laced her fingers between Asheera's and felt the honesty in that grip, the strength offered.

"I know," said Shadowheart. "I don't know why you've gone all this way for me, but I'll cherish your kindness forever."

"You really don't know?" Asheera scoffed. "The thought of your Mother Superior laying a hand on you has me... fuming with anger. It's almost so bad that I can't tell where I am for minutes at a time. Ever since you found out about your parents, when I think about it I have to chant my oaths backwards and forwards a dozen times to stop myself from breaking whatever I'm holding in my hands. I have dreams of your Mother Superior's neck in the same hands that are meant to forgive and redeem."

With every word, Asheera's grip on Shadowheart's hand tightened. She punctuated everything with more and more strength. Her brows pinched above her nose, and her normally warm, ruddy brown eyes reminded Shadowheart then of a focused lioness.

One whose love was threatened.

One who held Shadowheart in her hands just then. Shadowheart knew Asheera was never going to try to break her despite all this building anger.

Shadowheart found her voice. "I'll never be able to repay you for this, and—"

Asheera leaned down and pressed her lips against Shadowheart's without any force. A tender kiss that felt barely more than a graze.

When they parted, Asheera said, "All I need, all I want, is your smile after this is all through."

Unable to find the words to match the flood of heat in her chest, Shadowheart nodded. Though her memories were lost, that sense of complete trust she had in Asheera seemed almost entirely foreign. Unique. Precious.

Just as she felt whenever Asheera looked at her. Perhaps, then, she was someone worth protecting.

She blinked away the scant wetness willed to her eyes and thought instead of her parents.

#bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart #shadowtav #shadowheart x tav #oc: asheera #my fic #anotheropti prompt fics #OK I went through like 4 different ideas for this prompt and eventually settled on this one because SH deserves it

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raccoonfallsharder · 6 months

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Day 15: Sunshine

smut ♡ (day 15 ~ against a wall) 18+ only • Word Count: 5,489 Summary: you take a stranger home from the club. i wrote this based on a very cliche, cheesy trope but it was so fun (like this might be my fave of my kinktober fics so far). also someone please stop me from writing so much for these prompts omg. also if you fuck a strange raccoon in a bar please make him wear a condom. ♡ smut with feelings, sex in public, references to exhibitionism. some impact play (spanking & pussy slapping). light degradation/use of slut (affectionate). mcu-rocket-based in a timeline run amuck (maybe pre-infinity war?) but headcanon this however you want. no use of [y/n]; minimal editing. ♡ anyway during kinktober we say "fuck everything - including plot.” ♡

based on day 15 of @flightlessangelwings’ Kinktober 2023 Prompt List banner created by @the-purity-pen ♡♡♡

The stranger looks at you over his shoulder: startled, eyes wide. Then they narrow. You’re sure they’re probably brown or black - though why should you be sure of that when everything else about him is so different? - but they gleam like little red traffic lights in the dark purple light of the club.

Stop, you read in them. Do not cross this intersection, or you will be hit by a fucking car.

But today you feel invincible, so you wink instead, tucking your most welcoming little smile into the corner of your mouth and hoping he can see it in the flickering violet light, blue and moody between the thunderous beat of the music.

His pretty eyes widen again. His ears flick, looking soft and velvety even from here, and you kind just wanna rub them between your fingers. You wonder if he’d like that, if it would be comforting to him like it is to your cat. Or if - like a human - his ears might be an erogenous zone.

Even through the kaleidoscopic shadows and the crush of bodies between you, you can still see his face flicker through a myriad of reactions: confusion, fury, uncertainty, defensiveness. Other emotions you can’t identify. You process that, and consider what it might mean. Then his face settles into something implacable, and he sides off his barstool and saunters over to you, tail swinging lazily behind him.

read more on ao3 ♡ read Day 14: Soft ♡ read Day 13: Proof ♡ read Day 12: Heavy Artillery ♡ read Day 11: Nod for Yes ♡ read Day 9: Practice ♡ read Day 8: Turbulence ♡

@evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

#rfh fanfic #rfh kinktober #rocket raccoon fanfiction #in kinktober we say fuck everything #including plot #rocket raccoon x you #fawktober2023 #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg fanfiction #this fuckin raccoon #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon x oc #rocket x oc #rocket x you #rocket x reader

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aspoonofsugar · 1 year

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Yang's Design

This is just an appreciation post of our Golden Girl's design that stems from this longer meta I wrote on her. As a result, some concepts and ideas are taken and repeated from there.

GOLDILOCKS AND THE 3 BEARS IN 1 CHARACTER

Yang's design manages to take a lot of symbolism from her fairy tale and to represent it through clever aesthetic choices.

The simpler one to notice is the dychotomy between Goldilocks and the Bears:

Yang's most recognizable feature is her long blond hair (Goldilocks)

Yang usually wears brown outfits (The Bears and especially the Baby Bear)

She is both Goldilocks and the Baby Bear, so her looks reference both characters. At the same time, though, there are other elements of her story that find their way into Yang's appearance. I am talking about the too hot, too cold and just right. Let's consider these concept arts:

As you can see, they are not that much different from the final product. However, they are fun to read as explorations of the concept of hot/cold/just right. How? Through the use of colors, of course:

red > hot

blue > cold

purple > (red + blue) > just right

You notice how in these drafts there is a blue/green, which is absent from Yang's final design? I think it was inspired by the idea of too cold.

After all, Yang is meant to be unbalanced and asymmetrical:

Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgement.

Which means she is not a perfect mix of hot and cold. She is more on the hot side, rather than the cold. So, her color scheme is full of warm colors (yellow and orange mostly). Still, a little bit of ice blue/green is either in her bandana or her scarf to show there is some cold in her.

Another interesting detail in these concept arts is that she wears white and black, aka Weiss and Blake's colors. To be specific, she has a lot of white in the initial drafts and her bandana is black. It is probably something done to show that the girls are all intertwined, in a way. However, the white is toned down in the final design and the bandana becomes purple. Similarly, the cold/green is gone. Why so?

They probably (or at least it is fun to think so) chose to focus on the just right aka the purple (red + blue). In this way they have managed to convey all the previous ideas in a more concise way:

Yang is unbalanced, so she wears a lot of warm colors and a single cold color aka purple, which symbolizes her pursue of the just right

Purple replaces black as Blake's color, which adds to the idea Blake is Yang's just right

At the same time, isn't it interesting Yang's eyes are purple/violet in all the preparatory drafts? As people noticed, they are a mix of Raven and Tai's eyes, which makes Yang the just right of their hot and cold relationship.

Still, when Yang uses Burn her eyes become red...

HOT, HOTTER, THE HOTTEST

You're standing too close to a flame that's burning Hotter than the sun in the middle of July Sending out your army, but you still can't win Listen up, silly boy, 'cause I'm gonna tell you why I burn! Can't hold me now And you're not stopping me I burn! Swing all you want Like a fever I will take you down

Burn is nothing, but a metaphorical representation of the too hot of Yang's fairy tale. The moment she uses it, she fires up and her eyes go from the just right (purple) to the red (hot).

This reading makes sense in the context of Yang being built on the idea of "hot" and all its different meanings: she is hot in the sense of beautiful, she is hot in the sense of hot-blooded and she is the too hot in the sense of asymmetrical.

These concepts emerge also from Ember Celica:

They look like jewels, so hot

They turn into gauntlets, so even hotter

Yang loses one when she loses her arm, so they become asymmetrical > the hottest aka too hot

In general, Yang's hot design also plays homage to her name of Sunny Little Dragon and makes her look like a burning candle:

Burning the candle at both ends.

Which leads us to the next point of this analysis. Puns, sayings and words in general are fucking important for Yang's character.

PUNS PUNS PUNS!

Ren: It's okay to be afraid, you know. You don't always have to hide it with a joke.

Yang is the pun-girl par excellence, so it is not really a surprise that jokes and wordplay are so important in her story. This is true for her design, as well. Some examples:

She loses a hand because she is in need of a hand > she must learn to accept her own vulnerability and fragility

Her emblem is a burning heart she wears on her chest because she wears her heart on her sleeve. This means superficially she openly shows her anger and on a deeper level that she must make herself vulnerable

She is linked to the sun, so she is the only one of her teammates to wear sunglasses

Her hair catches fire because she is hot-headed

She is triggered by people touching her hair because she has a hair-trigger temper

Her eyes turn red when angry because she literally sees red

So, there are really a lot of ideas and jokes intertwined in Yang. Still, there is still another one, which is a fave:

Reign supreme? In your dreams You'll never make me bow Kick my ass? I'm world-class And Super Saiyan now

YANG, THE SHONEN PROTAGONIST

Yang's looks and powers make her similar to a Dragonball's Super Sayan, like she herself sings to us. This is so for 2 reasons:

sayans grow stronger when angry, just like Yang's semblance is partly activated by her fury

sayans grow stronger when they get hurt and then cured, which is the idea behind Burn in a nutshell

Ruby: Don't worry! With each hit she gets stronger, and she uses that energy to fight back! That's what makes her special.

Moreover, Yang looks very similar to a super sayan whenever she uses Burn with the only difference that Super Sayans' eyes turn blue, while hers become red.

The reason of these similarities is that Yang is meant to deconstruct and reconstruct the idea behind these kinds of characters. After all, an important part of her development is this:

Taiyang: But you gotta keep your emotions in check. Keep a level head, and think before you act. Your Semblance is a great fallback, but you can't let yourself rely on it. It won't always save you.

She must learn to cool down and to control her anger. In this way she can fight more effectively and with more precise strikes. Maybe this is why in Mistral she seems to leave her shonen/comic book inspiration behind and gains some westerns undertones:

youtube

In Vale, she is introduced as a powerful shonen/comic fighter, a mix among Goku, Human Torch and Ghost Rider:

Human Torch can't mess with me Johnny Blaze: Suspect B

In Mistral Bumblebee turns into her loyal horse and she becomes a cow-girl who fighs bandits in inns. Classic western imagery.

In a sense, you can see it like this:

Vale > body - Yang affirms herself as an incredible powerful fighter, but she has to go through a journey of self-discovery to grow even stronger

Mistral > mind - Yang has to become smarter, so that she can see others and herself better

I guess that Vacuo will be heart > the result of cooling down is that she will be able to unlock and solve those feelings she usually represses behind her temper, her anger and her funny facade.

Once this happens, I am sure these new found emotions will power her up once again. She may even reconstruct her Super-Sayan persona: she will grow stronger because of all her feelings and not just anger. By keeping her anger under control she will learn to truly see her own heart and to really find strength in it.

Who knows? Maybe by that point Burn will evolve and gain some new effect and a new aesthetic representation. What happens to a flame when it burns hotter and hotter? It goes from red to blue, which is also the color symbolic of the too cold in Yang's allusion. A Yang who burns incredibly hot and brilliant and looks at the world with clear eyes at the same time... A true Super Sayan with blue eyes this time...A Goldilocks who is both hot and cold.

CONCLUSION

These are some random thoughts on Yang's design. It is probable much of this may be me over-analyzing, but tbh? It is fun to go at character designs this way and what's sure is that the authors created such a rich and coherent character that you can easily link many details together in one single narrative. That in itself is already amazing.

#rwby #rwby meta #yang xiao long #character design #semblance of the soul #kind of #once upon an allusion #my meta

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shipmistress9 · 7 months

Text

Stranger In The Woods

Fandom: Fourth Wing - The Empyrean

Pairing: Xaden/Violet - Riorgail

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What if Tyrrendor's rebellion was successful? What if Xaden became a Gryphon flier instead of a Dragon rider? What if the bond that tethered Violet and him together still existed?

Sometimes, the attraction one feels toward a stranger--an enemy even--can be too strong to resist. Or... is it all just a game?

@kinktober2023 or on AO3

. o O o .

There’s the sound of a twig cracking, and I freeze. I hold my breath when I see him entering the clearing, my back is pressed against the tree behind me, my rider boots safely placed on one of its thicker branches. The foliage keeps me hidden just enough so he doesn’t spot me up here.

My lips pull into a snarl when I recognise the stranger. Although, stranger might be the wrong word; we’ve met too often for that. He wears the typical outfit of a gryphon flier, brown leathers that fit their beast’s colouring, two swords strapped to his back, and a set of daggers in his hands. Too bad he’s too smart to burden himself with the longer blades amidst the thick underbrush.

When he’s right below me, I jump down, praying that my ankles won’t give out on me. But the chance of finally getting rid of him is just too good.

However, at the last moment, right before my dagger rips open his arm, he spins, and all I hit is air. He stares at me, baffled for just a fraction of a second, then takes a defensive stance. “You again!” he snarls. “So there’s rats in these woods, after all. But tell me, why is it always you? Are you stalking me?”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you conceited ass.” I take a step to the side, hoping for an opening to strike, but he moves with me. Annoying prick.

It’s always like this, every time we meet. I didn’t look for him, only tried to glean some information about our enemies. Ever since Tyrrendor rebelled against the kingdom of Navarre and became an independent supporter of Poromiel a few years ago, they’ve been a thorn in our side, and many riders regularly get sent across the border to look for ways to reconquer our lost lands. But how it is that I run into this flier every single time is beyond me. It’s as if there’s a bond between us, fate tethering us together so we’re drawn to each other, or something. And it’s annoying as hell.

Not that I would mind if he were just anyone else. With dark skin over an incredibly muscled body, black eyes, black hair that seems to be the only soft part of him, and that perfectly chiselled jaw and mouth, he’s easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. If things were different and we were on the same side of this war, I’d gladly climb this man like a tree at every given opportunity.

But as it is, we are enemies, and nothing will ever change that.

I feint a step to the right, then strike left, hoping to catch him off guard. But the ass saw my move coming and parries me easily.

“You should learn some new moves.” He smirks. “Else, I might get the impression you don’t really want to hurt me after all.”

I growl. Close combat has never been my strong suit, but against this guy, I really need to up my game. I try again and again, direct hits, hidden ones, switching as much as I can between what my instructors taught me. But he dodges or parries every one of my strikes, and I have to fight to not let my annoyance guide my moves.

“Is that really all you’ve got?” He didn’t even break a sweat. “Pathetic.”

Then he makes his move, and before I know it, he’s behind me, his blade at my throat and my arms pinned to my sides with the way he holds me.

Fuck!

I wait for the silent movement, for my vision to turn dark and my blood to spill to the ground—but it never comes.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” I snarl, trembling with anticipating his next move.

His grip around me tightens, but the blade stays where it is. “Not if I don’t have to.”

I huff a sharp laugh. “And what else are you going to do to me?” I know the answer already, it’s the same every damn time.

“I want you to listen,” he hisses into my ear, and I shiver.

I hate how my body reacts to being close to him. Fantasising about this asshole in the depth of the night is one thing, but out here, I have to be professional. I can’t grind back into him, can’t enjoy the touch of his rough hands on my skin, mustn’t imagine how his calloused fingers would feel rasping over my nipples.

I lean back against his chest, and when he lowers his defences for a fraction of a second, I spin out of his hold, my daggers at the ready again. “Listen to what?” I spit. “Your fairy tales about imaginary monsters attacking our world? You really must be dumb as shit if you believe even for a moment that—”

I strike before I finish the sentence. This time, I do catch him by surprise, feinting first left, then right, then kicking his knees out from under him. I’m on him before he even hits the ground, and even though he throws me off and is back on his feet in a heartbeat, he’s too slow. A thin red line appears on his right cheekbone, and his eyes widen.

“You little bitch,” he growls.

I smirk at my triumph but don’t get time to fully enjoy it as he switches to the offence now. It’s all I can do to dodge his attacks, stumbling backwards across the clearing. Fuck, he’s fast.

My back hits a tree, hard, but my outcry gets cut off when, for the second time in too few minutes, a blade gets pressed against my throat.

“You will regret that,” he snarls. He’s close now, his entire body pressed against my own, pinning me in place. But even if I was able to move, I’m not sure I could. Not with his chest pressing against my breasts, with his knee between my thighs, holding my legs in place, and his hips grinding into me. Not when I feel a hardness poking against my lower belly where none should be and when heat pools low in my stomach.

My eyes are blown wide as I gaze up at him, dumbfounded. Is he as attracted to me as I am to him? What does that mean? I take a moment to look at him, really look, and notice the oddest details. Like the golden flecks in his onyx-black eyes or the thin scar that crosses his left eyebrow. The perfectly carved lips.

He’s so. Fucking. Beautiful.

My eyes flicker up to his and for a moment, the whole world around us seems to drop out of existence. There’s only him and me and a mutual understanding, a question and an answer.

With a low thud, his dagger lands on the grassy ground, but neither of us pays it any mind as he wraps his hands around my cheeks and we kiss.

Heat flares, low in my belly then in my entire body, surging through me. I reach for him, pull him closer, as close as I can. His tongue pushes into my mouth, demandingly, and I mewl, my hips grinding against him and my hands clinging to his back. Fuck, this is everything. More than I ever imagined, more than any kiss has a right to be. Our tongues glide together, teeth clashing with how fierce the kiss grows. Desperate, even.

He pulls back as quickly as he leaned in, eyes blown with want and confusion. We’re both gasping for air, staring at each other, and I think I can see my own thoughts whirling mirrored behind his eyes. I know I shouldn’t want him to continue. He’s my enemy, I should kill him on the spot, or at least capture him and bring him back to Basgiath for questioning, and not… not…

“Oh, fuck it,” he growls. I couldn’t agree more, and not a second later, our lips meet again.

This time, there’s no restraint at all. We both know where this will lead us, no point tiptoeing around it. His hands roam down my sides, my waist, and come to fondle my breasts, while mine explore the vast expanse of his muscles chest, his arms, his firm ass. I moan when my hand wanders between his legs, and I can feel how hard he is beneath his leathers. Fuck, I want him. Now!

In a hurry, I loosen the cords of his leathers just as he does the same with mine, his mouth dropping to devour my neck as his fingers dip between my folds. “So fucking wet,” he groans. “And all that for me?”

“Shut up!” I growl, but can’t suppress a whimper when I finally wrap my fingers around his quite sizable cock. Fuck, why does everything about him has to be so fucking perfect?

I try to guide him to my entrance, eager to have him inside me, but with my tight leathers only pushed down to my thighs, that’s impossible. I grimace, realising I’d have to take them off completely when waiting even a second longer feels like torture.

“Turn around,” he groans, his hand on my shoulder to guide me, and I follow immediately.

I gasp when he pushes my front against the tree but pulls my ass back into position, my back arching. “Ingenius,” I mewl as I feel him poking at my drenched sex, and he huffs a laugh.

“You really think I’m dumb as shit, eh?”

I cry out as he fills me with one smooth thrust. Sweet fucking Amari, he feels absolutely perfect inside me. “With all the nonsense you spout? Yeah, I don’t think you’re any bright.” I try to sound sensible, but with how breathy my voice became, I’m not sure it works.

His head drops to my shoulder, his mouth back at my neck as he slowly pulls out until only his tip is inside me. “I just wish you’d listen.” He punctuates his last word by thrusting back into me, hard, then sets a harsh pace. It’s good that we didn’t strip further, or the rough bark of the tree would shred every inch of my skin.

One of his hands is at my hips, holding me in place as he fucks into me with abandon, and I’m sure I’ll have bruises there tomorrow. But I don’t care. Not, when he hits that perfect spot deep inside me with every thrust, when his free hand roughly gropes at my tits through my leathers, and when his mouth sucks so deliciously at my puls point that I arch back into him even further.

“Oh, Gods,” I mewl as heat coils tight in my belly. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but I already feel the edge coming.

Behind me, he lets out a dark laugh. “No Gods, only me, sunshine.” He sucks another bruise into my neck and his thrusts turn even harder still, his hand dropping from my tits down to where I can all but feel him poking from the inside. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so good.”

I mewl at his words, my body locking up tightly around him. I’m close, so fucking close, so—

“Need anything, babe?” He bites at my earlobe, and I go fucking cross-eyed.

“Yes, please,” I whimper. “I… I need—aAHH!”

My eyes fly wide when his fingers press against my clit, his rough trusts making me grind into them. Within seconds, the tension becomes unbearable and I shatter, clenching down hard on his cock inside me. The pleasure is all-consuming, blinding, and I can’t even scream with how deep inside me he is. He thrusts a few more times before pressing in as deeply as he can, and I can feel him fall apart, his hot come flooding me.

For a few heartbeats, everything is silent. There’s only our harsh breathing, my heart pounding in my ears. Then he gasps and pulls back, stumbling away a few steps. Without him holding me up, my knees are too weak, and I slip to the ground, turning my head to look at him.

He stares at me with wide eyes, shock written all over his face. “Fuck,” he mutters, his eyes flickering down to where his seeds drip out of me and onto the mossy earth. He shakes his head, his hands running through his hair. “Fuck, that shouldn’t…” He throws me a last unreadable look, then turns and all but flees into the woods.

I follow him with my eyes, too dumbfounded myself to do anything else. That was… well, that was certainly something.

Only slowly, I work myself up onto my feet and return to where Tairn is waiting for me.

“Not one word,” I say, holding up a hand.

“I wasn’t going to comment,” he says in my head, but I can feel his amusement anyway. “Only this: you humans and your mating rituals a weird.”

I roll my eyes as he bends his leg for me to climb onto his back. “Let’s get home.

. o O o .

We fly straight back to Basgiath, but when I enter the room Xaden and I unofficially inhabit together, he’s already there. How he managed to get here so fast and without me even spotting him anywhere is beyond me, though. Even the brown leathers he burrowed from one of Syrena’s gryphon fliers are already neatly folded, though I guess their owner would prefer it if we washed them before the return.

“So,” Xaden asks with one raised eyebrow as I approach him and let him wrap his arms around my waist. “How was your tryst with that stranger in the woods?”

“Well…” I say, my fingers drawing shapes onto his bare chest. “It was pretty hot, I’d say. There’s something to be said about fucking an enemy.” I grin and can’t keep myself from adding. “Although it was over rather quickly.”

Xaden snorts. “Some heated fighting can serve as great foreplay.” Then his eyes drop to my neck and he frowns. He runs his fingers over where he left me covered in bruises earlier. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head. “Only in ways I liked. Don’t worry, I would have called for an end if it had been otherwise. But what about this?” I run my finger below the harsh red line across his cheekbone. “I… didn’t expect to actually hit you.”

At that, Xaden smirks. “Me neither. It was impressive. The first time you ever landed a hit on me during sparing.” He pulls my fingers away from the cut and brings them to his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep that scar as a sweet reminder of that wildcat I once fucked in the woods.”

. o O o .

AN: Another relatively short and tame one. What do you think? Xaden and Violet apparently like to do elaborate roleplaying to spice things up every now and then. 😇 I had a lot of fun writing this one, but I'd like even more to see the premise as a real AU one day. Where Xaden and Violet go from true enemies to lovers. If anyone feels inspired, feel free to write it, and maybe tag me, I want to seeeeeeee. 😁

Also, yes, a rather tame one... the next few ones are going to be a bit more... intense.😬

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

I am but a street artist, offering my art to those around me. If you enjoyed it, a tip in the form of a comment and a ❤️would be highly appreciated. 😊

If you want to leave a tip you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

#Riorgail #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #fanfiction #fourth wing #rebecca yarros #the empyrean #kinktober #kinktober23

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wyiicb · 5 months

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I've been thinking of starting a Peanuts acc with my own hcs too but I haven't worked up the courage >.< What's some of your headcanons?

SO GLAD YOU ASKED ME!! <33

the list is endless, but here are a couple of them im super passionate about:

• Charlie Brown taught Sally sign language (ASL) all throughout her childhood. She can ‘speak’ full sentences fluently and DEFINITELY uses it to her advantage (signs curses when the teacher isn’t looking /jj). The signs come in handy when Charlie Brown goes non-verbal (selective mutism)

• Lucy has terrible hearing and has had to wear hearing aides since she was like 5. Charlie Brown keeps stressing that she should learn ASL in case of emergency, but she always refuses (“I’d rather DIE than have to learn English again.” /j)

• Schroeder and Patty are cousins; his dad and her mom are German/Polish. Schroeder’s mom is black (Somalian) and Indian, and Patty’s dad is Swedish and Kazakhstanian. Patty bonds over Schroeders love for German history and loves teaching him about their family heritage (schroeder zones out until beethoven is mentioned)

• Lucy has a separate birth dad (Balkan) than Rerun and Linus’ dad (Irish). All three of them have the same mom, who I think is a Chinese immigrant who moved to America (along with their “blanket hating Grandmother”). Linus and Rerun are both “Rainbow children”, due to their mother losing a baby before Linus was born

• I saw somebody on tik tok say that Snoopy was Filipino-American, and honestly i cant unsee it /hj

• Marcie was born in Korea and was adopted by French immigrants in America. She grew up primarily learning French and a little bit of English due to the books in her house. When she met P. Patty at the summer camp, she was taught the ins and outs of American culture and still relies on her every once in a while (marcie calls her “sir” solely because she didn’t know the feminine English pronouns for an authoritative figure)

• Frieda and Heather (the little red haired girl) are half siblings. They share the red hair and the sharp nose trait (i think theyre both roman-italian bcs of it). Heather has the coveted “nAtuRAllY CuRLy HaiR” trait as well, she just burns it straight every single morning (i like drawing it frizzy asl)

• Violet is of Native American descent (mother’s side) and Black Irish (father’s side). When she first moved in in the comic (1951), she lived with both parents, but around late 1951, she moved AGAIN, so that makes me think her parents got a divorce between those two moves. Her mom quickly married a British person (ew /j) who hated all the tom-boyish crap violet was always seen doing, so he started to push his uppity customs onto her. This, I think, is why she’s so upset at Pig Pen all the time for him being messy, despite her literally being OBSESSED with mud-pie making in her first set of comics. She just has a random change there, and a different (british) influence is the only explanation /j

• Franklin LOVESSS space and science. He aspires to be an astronaut when he grows up. He often gets in arguments with Lucy about the validity of aliens existing, and it’s one of the few things that REALLYYY tick him off. Lucy revels to see him so stressed out, but she also likes getting the last word in.

• Peggy Jean (who? /jj) and Schroeder are besties, i think. They bond over talking crap about the other peasants and Peggy loves pissing him off. They have a kind of sibling relationship, where they outwardly insult each other and wish the lather were dead, but lets be real, they would die for each other.

• Peppermint Patty is originally from Australia and met Roy through a foreign-exchange program (Roy is originally from India). They were besties at camp and when P. Patty’s dad decided to live there, she offered to let Roy stay with them. They lived together for a long time until Roy moved out with his parents (now in America) and they kinda drifted away. It’s just whenever I recall that one scene in “He’s your dog, Charlie Brown” when Roy is in P. Patty’s house for some reason, im always confused, so this is canon now/jj

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING AGAIN!!! i love spreading my opinions out there and i salute you if you read up to this point (also yes all of these are canon to my AU /gen)

#peanuts #not related #headcanon #charlie brown #linus #lucy #rerun #frieda #heather #franklin #marcie #peppermint patty #schroeder #peggy jean #patty #violet #snoopy #sally

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alexiafeyblogpost · 1 day

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Alexia Fey (Ayasato Mamoru)

Point in time: 2017 (AA: Justice for All)

Height: 1.56 meters

Age: 12 years

Physical Appearance: She normally wears her long brown hair up in a high ponytail, while the rest of her hair, which is down, reaches her upper back. The irises of her eyes are grayish brown and her skin is milky white. Her body is a little more developed than she should be for someone in her early teens, which is why she has told him numerous times that she will be a true beauty as an adult.

Clothing: She is normally dressed in a violet gilette sweater with a high round neck, and although slightly small for her three measurements, it reaches the top of her thighs. On top, she wears a long black cloth coat, and underneath it, she wears yoga-style pants of the same color. And unlike the rest of her family, she does not wear his pearl necklace, which her magatama wears, because it reminds her of her standart spiritual power.

Family relationships/Friendships:

Bloodwise: Maya Fey (Adoptive Cousin/Biological Aunt), Mia Fey (Adoptive Cousin/Biological Mother), Morgan Fey (Adoptive Mother/Biological Grandmother), Pearl Fey (Adoptive Little Sister/Biological Aunt) Misty Fey (Adoptive Aunt/Biological Grandmother), and Diego Armando (Biological Father)

Friendships: Phoenix Wright (Best Friend/Big Brother in Spirit), and Franziska Von Karma (Rival)

Context: 2005, A 19 years old Mia was living alone, struggling not only to adapt to life outside of Kurain village, but also with everything a student living alone can struggle with. She had a hook up, at least one night. Her friends always have said to her that hooking up is the best way to deal with extreme stress like hers. So even if she have never done it before, for once she went to a disco, and there, there was this man, who was nice and attractive. Long sotry short, she ended up sleeping with him.

Even if they had used protection, somehow, she still ended up pregnant (maybe the condom broke without any of them noticing…). When she realized it, she panicked. She was alone, struggling, far from her family, and she didn’t know what to do. So she decided to go to the older woman she trusted at the time: Morgan Fey.

She went back in the village discreetely, and told everything to her aunt. She said she was thinking of aborting them but at the same.time, she didn't want to kill her baby. Plus, if the elders of the village find out, they could ban her from the village for ever. So probably give them on adoption was the best to go, but what is she wanted her baby back in the future? So many options, yet none of them sounded good enough for Mia…

While Mia was having her mental breakdown, Morgan saw a golden opportunity in this. Mia didn’t want to have to come back to the village because she still wanted to become a lawyer and find her mother, but she didn’t feel ready to raise a child on her own. And a child born from Mia, the direct descendant of Misty, had high chances of being a powerful spirit medium.

So she manipulated Mia. She told her what she needed to her from her aunt. Validation that she never had (i can imagine that when she left, Morgan was really scornful about her, saying she was betraying the village). She tells her she’s proud of her, that she understands now, and that deep down, she’s trying to save the village by bringing back the Master. She tells her that she must continue her mission and not let this distract her. She uses despicable manipulation to deter Mia from having an abortion or giving the baby on adoption.

"If you really wanted to do it, you wouldn't even come to the village to talk to me about this…”

She then tells Mia that she can fulfill her wish to see this kid come to life, while still allowing Mia to keep working on her mission: give birth in secret, in the village, and let Morgan raise the child as her own daughter.

“If no one knows, no one is going to accuse you of anything. You’ll be free to resume your life where you left it, and to keep looking for your mother. And your child, they will be raised where you were raised, in this familiar cocoon. Nothing bad will happen to them, and if she has spiritual powers, she’ll never be shamed for those. They will be celebrated and loved. Also… by being my daughter, she will never have to worry about being the Master or not, to be in competition with her aunt.”

This would touches Mia the most…

“I know this is part of why you left.”

Mia would probably say that she can’t impose this on her aunt, and let her make up for her “mistakes”. Morgan would use yet another argument.

“Mia… you know, I had daughters. They were everything I had, I cherished them but… this man, he took them away. I never saw them again. After that, I was unable to trust a man again, but the absence of a child always made me suffer. I have to admit… part of my reasons to suggest this to you is for me to be able to be a mother again, one last time…”

At the end of the day, through manipulation and apparent kindness, Morgan ended up getting what she wanted: Mia accepted to let her raise her child once she was born.

(2005-6) She hid her pregnancy, while Morgan pretended to be pregnant, and gave birth in secret, in a house a bit farther from the main village. It was heartbreaking for Mia to get separated from the baby, and she decided to name her before giving her to Morgan, and chose “Alexia” (That means the one who defends).

Yet, even if Mia went throught this without any douht. Something, deep down in her heart, kept screaming to be wary of Morgan.

So she made the decision that one day, she’d come back to take Alexia. One day, she would tell her the truth. In that effect, she told Morgan she’d take care of the legal stuff, and secretly declared Alexia as her daughter (since she knew Alexia wouldn’t leave the village, she managed to hide it).

(2012) It’s only 6-7 years later, when she started working at Grossberg Law Offices, that she realized she knew who the father was…it was her superior co-worker, Diego Armando…

He felt like she was familiar, but when he tried to ask if they didn’t already met, Mia immediately shut him up with a; “I doubt it, I’ve never hooked up with coffee addicts”. It made him laugh, and he brushed the weird feeling of déjà-vu away.

Mia felt terrible. She knew he was the father, but she didn’t feel she could tell him. Not now atleast. It would be weird to suddenly go to your superior co-worker and be like “hey, remember this girl you slept with 6 years ago at that party? Well that was me, I got pregnant but I left our daughter to be raised by someone else after giving birth in secret”.

(2013) Thag was the last thing that she should do. Yet, that doesn't that she would never tell him. She was actually considering telling him when they started dating and things were getting more serious… but a tragedy happened… Diego was poisoned by Dahlia…

Mia felt hurt… felt weak… felt alone…

But she know that Diego left something with here before going to a coma… their daugthet… She needed to take care of probably the last thing that represented Diego's love for her. And she spuld be damned if something happens to her.

So, after a bit of talk with Morgan, she let Alexia to go to the city to spend about two weeks with Mia at her new law office, and then return to Kurain for 2 more weeks.

Mia thought that her aunt accepted so quickly, is because she had a new daugher of her own. A little girl who has 4 years younger that Alexia. The name of the girl was Pearl, Pearl Fey. But Mia didn't care much about her, she was more intrested in her own daughter.

Alexia was completely unaware of the reason for this routine, but she didn't care, she loved the presence of her older cousin. (Who has actually her mother…)

(2014) On one of those times when she came to town to hang out with Mia, she was surprised that apparently she had gotten herself a legal assistant/progete, who was learning from her in order to in the future practice law as she did.

Alexia won't deny that at first she didn't like the man very much, he was too emotional for her liking. He almost seemed like he would start crying with anything you said to him, even if it was a compliment. But as time went by, that attitude was disappearing from him, and it was being replaced by a more serious and determined one. Although of course, he did not leave behind her overly emotional and sometimes a little sarcastic attitude on his part, but she assumed that this was a part of him that has been with him since she was born, a part that she herself learned to like him. So both of them, little by little, began to form a nice bond between them, to the point that she referred to him as "Big brother Phoenix."

(2015) And so a year and a half passed, until for reasons that Alexia, and even Mia, still does not know, Morgan no longer wanted to let her go to the city to spend time with them. According to her, it was because she was getting too distracted from her training as a medium… something that at least seemed ridiculous to Alexia. She was only a 10 year old girl for the love of God, why should she train at such a young age? But she guess that she couldn't complain to much, when Lady Maya started training started training at the same age.

But the decision made by Morgan was already made, and not even Mia could make her would change his mind. So with a broken heart, she had to say goodbye to what was the closest thing she had in her life to an older brother or even something more… a father.

But he made her a promise that one day they would see each other again, and she is eagerly waiting for him to keep his promise…even a year after he left her promise, she still has hope that he will to return one day to her life.

(2016) And hopefully, he'll make it alive… unlike mia…

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #maya fey #pearl fey #franziska von karma #dick gumshoe #hatsune miku #justice for all #AAII #traditional art #Fey #ayasato mayoi #mia fey #harumi ayasato #chihiro ayasato

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sainamoonshine · 1 year

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On paint, primary colours, and why your art teacher didn’t lie to you after all.

An explainer by SainaMoonshine

Sources: dude just trust me

Introduction: colour theory and what the internet has been telling you about it

So if you’re an artist and make digital art, or have spent any time at all online in the last 10+ years, you probably know about RGB colours versus CMYK colours.

A quick recap, just to make sure that we’re all on the same page: RGB colours is the way that your screen shows colours to you, and the way it does that is by blasting light at your eyeballs. Different light waves are perceived by your eyes as different colours. It’s called an “additive” colour model because when your eyes perceive all of the possible wavelengths at the same time, you see white. When you see no light at all (and therefore no wavelengths), you perceive that as black. So, in order to make combinations of colours, I need to combine wavelengths. Your eyes have receptors for the wavelengths of green (useful to our evolution because almost everything on this planet is some sort of green), red, and blue. So when your eye sees a wavelength that’s in between green and red it tells your brain “eeeh that’s probably yellow I guess.”

(This is, incidentally, the reason why we see magenta. Light has no corresponding wavelength for that sort of super-pink that is magenta. When it waves faster than red it becomes infrared light, which we can’t see, and when it waves faster than violet it becomes ultraviolent, which we also can’t see. But when your brain perceives a bit of red and a bit of blue, it basically just shrugs and makes up a colour to fill the blank. This is not important to the rest of this explainer, I just wanted to mention it because it’s neat.)

Given that, computer screens don’t really need to shoot all of the wavelengths at you; they only need to shoot those three primary wavelengths at different intensity and your brain adds up how much blue, red and green it sees and then makes up what colour it “should” be seeing.

(so yeah, basically when you see yellow on a screen you’re more-or-less hallucinating it. Sorry.)

Anyway that is how old computer screens used to work, with each pixel made out of three teeny-tiny little dot of red, blue and green light. Is that still how screens work now that they are flat? Who knows. Technology is magic, etc.

Now, about that other colour scheme that you might have heard about. CMYK. It’s called a “substractive” colour model and it’s the mode that you should set your photoshop file on if you intent to print something. Why is is substractive? Well, that is because when you print, you don’t print with light. You print with ink, which is basically a bunch of tiny pigment particles (or dye particles, but the distinction isn’t important here) suspended in a liquid (or a goo, or in the form of a powder). Assuming that you are printing on white paper, each layer of ink that you put down basically prevents light from bouncing off that paper and entering your eye. So when you combine colours using a physical medium like ink, you don’t get white. You get progressively LESS white, in fact. All of the inks mixed together will grab ALL of the colour waves and prevent them from richoteting into your peepers, so basically that resulting mix will appear as more-or-less black. (An ACTUAL black ink is added to printers for several reasons, one of which being that mixing cyan, magenta and yellow makes some sort of super-dark-brown-but-not-quite-black black that’s not super great to look at, and another reason being that coating a page of paper in three colours of ink is often time way too much ink than what that page can absorb. One pass of nice black is better than three superposed passes of other colours, especially when it results in a yucky subpar black anyway.)

So, basically:

When you colour with light = Red, Green and Blue are considered primary colours

When you colour with ink = Cyan, Magenta and Yellow are considered primary colours

…

Wait. Hold on. Didn’t my elementary school teacher tell me that Red, Yellow and Blue are the primary colours?

Congratulations! We have reached the reason I’m writing this explainer in the first place. And it is to tell you to stop listening to the self-proclaimed art experts on the internet that will scream at you all day that Red, Yellow and Blue are BAD and if you use them as primary colours you should feel bad and your elementary art teachers lied to you.

Because, the thing is? Go to any art store right now and try to buy a “primary colours” set of acrylics paint. It’s red, yellow, and blue. All of them are, in fact. Every single acrylics paint manufacturer in the world is selling beginners sets with Red, Yellow, and Blue as the main primary colours. Are they all wrong???? Are they lying to me, too??? Is the rando on youtube right and it’s a conspiracy???

No it’s not. Calm down. Go back up a few lines, read what I said again: When you colour with ink = Cyan, Magenta and Yellow are considered primary colours

Ink.

INK.

Ink and paint aren’t the same thing. They behave differently, my dudes.