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#and it’s not like I had great mental health before. but I was managing so much better compared to how I am now

chimcess · 3 months

Text

Waterlog || pjm (1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thought for a second before replying.

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

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

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

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

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

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

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiding behind humor was a pastime.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

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

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

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

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

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

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

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

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see me?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

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

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

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

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

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

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

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

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

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart.

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

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

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

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

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

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

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

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

First work then play, I told myself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November.

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother.

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade.

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently.

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself.

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips.

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others.

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway.

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment.

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices.

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me.

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible.

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled.

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job.

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched.

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again.

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company.

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease.

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more.

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up.

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out.

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice.

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family.

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that.

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags.

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage.

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long.

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely.

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him.

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same.

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it.

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio

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athena-writes-i-guess · 1 year

Note

Ok so, ever since I’ve discovered your blog I’m addicted, how you manage to make me love Eddie even more than I already did is beyond le but somehow you did it! I just noticed that your requests were open and was wondering if you could write Eddie with fem reader who’s like, hyper affectionate; she just need to have some sort of physical contact with him even if it it’s just touching his arm or something else. And when she wants affection but is worried to be annoying by asking she does a simply thing where she rest her head against his back or arm?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

A/N: Hello friend! Thank you so so much for this request! I’m so sorry that it took so long, my mental health hasn’t been great so writing has been hard for me on top of how busy life has been. But this request hit SO close to home as I am constantly looking for affection from my loved ones and I’m just hyper affection in general, I love writing this. I really hope you like it!

You had always been considered “touchy”, you always wanted to be touching the people you love. Person, to be more accurate, as currently the only person you really cared about touching was your boyfriend Eddie Munson. You were always trying to hold his hand or arm, hug him, kiss him, really any sort of affection you could get from him.

Currently you were in his bed with him, both of you reading different magazines as a mixtape he made for you played softly on the stereo. You were itching to touch him, feeling exceptionally touch starved today. But you were trying to hold back, worried that you were annoying him with your constant need for affection.

You had been with each other all day, practically attached to Eddie’s hip as you went about your day. You held his hand when you would walk anywhere, wrap yourself up in his arms when you would sit next to each other, lean up for kisses whenever you could. You were like his little shadow, following him in hopes that you’d get to touch him again.

Eddie had never, ever, made you feel like your affection was unwanted or annoying, yet your insecurities made you second guess that he liked it. Your mind would sometimes scold you for how needy you felt, telling you things like: “He just hugged you, don’t annoy him by asking again!” “He’s been holding your hand all day, give him some space!” And now, as you stared at the magazine in front of you, itching to be held by your boyfriend, it was telling you to leave him alone.

“You okay baby?” Eddie's voice rang out, breaking you from your thoughts.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Why do you ask Eds?” You said quickly, whipping your head to the side to look at him. Soft eyes full of adoration found yours and you tried not to melt.

“You haven’t turned the page in like fifteen minutes. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He asked with a gentle smile. His hand came up to cup your cheek lightly, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek soothingly.

“I just got distracted, don’t worry about me Eds.” You said with a smile of your own, not wanting to bother him.

“If you're sure, baby.” He smiled before pecking your lips quickly and going back to his magazine.

You smiled from the small dose of affection he gave you, relieved that he initiated it with you. But you wanted more, you wanted to be in his arms snuggled into his chest, your favorite place to be. You loved hearing his heartbeat as it thumped against your ear, you loved the way his scent clung to you after and how you could smell him on your clothes for days, you loved hearing the low rumble in his chest when he would hum or talk to you. You just loved being close to him.

You sighed quietly as to not alarm him, giving into your desires. You looked over to him as he read and leaned your head against his arm. A silent plea Eddie knew to mean that you wanted his attention and affection.

You heard him chuckle as you screwed up your eyes, “There she is. My baby want some lovin’?” He cooed as he put the magazine on his side table and pulled you into his arms, resting you against his chest gently. You heard him chuckle again as you nodded your head against him with a little excited “mhmm!”, happy to be in his arms finally. “I’ll always have lovin’ to give to you sweetheart.” He laughed as you seemed to almost burrow into him further.

He grabbed your leg and pulled it over to the other side of his body so you were effectively straddling him as you cuddled into his chest. “There you go, I want you as close as possible sweet thing. We can stay like this all night if you want, okay?” He asked, rubbing up and down your back as he placed soft kisses into your hair.

“Thank you baby.” You mumbled against his shirt. “I love you so much Eddie.”

“Oh I love you too sweetness. So fuckin much.” He said, you could hear the smile pulling at his lips as he spoke. You let out a dreamy sigh as he started to hum along to the song that was playing as he continued to rub your back, he was just as ecstatic to have you in his arms as you were to be there.

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @cityofidek @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-tittie @becca-alexa @catacina

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rougecreator1 · 9 days

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wassup man. hey i got a requestion. Could you write a Regina Georgee fic where she andd NB!Reader are in a secret relationship but Y/N is dysphoric, and regina reassures them she won't leave them for someone else? Lots of praise, physical touch for comfort (smut only if ur comfy!! xx) + regina wears Y/N's letterman jacket to hard launch at school the next day so everyone knows her ass is owned by Y/N? If you do make it smut, bottom!regina would be great with whimpering and begging Thanksssssssssssssss

You're Beautiful ||

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings: minors don't interact, first time posting smut (just a small amount, isn't the main focus and doesn't go overly detailed; does skip through some of it), body dysphoria and description of how it feels, reader being upset, some swearing, regina comforting reader which means somewhat out of character regina, bottom!regina, top!reader

|| Summary: Reader struggles with body dysphoria, Regina assures the reader they're beautiful which leads to reader showing Regina they're thankful for her... the next day, Regina shows the school who owns her.

Requests open!

Started: May 2nd

Finished: May 10th

~~~

This week has been absolutely awful, mental health wise. Everything else was about the same. Which you were grateful for, you really didn't need any extra stress from school drama or assignments.

You had stayed the night at Regina's place, having decided to have a cozy Thursday night in with your girlfriend instead of attending the usual parties and such. You ordered take out and watched a movie. Regina's always had this certain image about her, but behind closed doors? When it was just the two of you? She could be so uncharacteristically soft. The first time it happened you had to do a double take and stare at her; wondering if that was really your girlfriend or if she had a twin you didn't know about.

Speaking of her being your girlfriend. Nobody knew about the two of you. You were considered an outcast for your gender identity, the only ones in the school that didn't judge you (besides your girlfriend) were Janis and Damien. They were pretty much your best friends because of it. And only friends...

You were currently getting changed in the bathroom; something you usually did, much to Regina's annoyance. She would always tell you you could change in front of her, that she didn't mind and in fact insisted that you did this. It's not like she hasn't seen you like that before anyway. But you always made up some excuse for why you couldn't and then scrambled off to the bathroom before she could stop you.

Today had been no different.

When you finally got out, Regina turned and looked at you. Eyes scanning your body. Instinctively your arms went to your stomach and you took a step back. Trying to avoid her gaze. You hadn't changed into anything different, just your regular set of pyjamas. Despite that you couldn't help feeling self conscious about your body. It wasn't what you wanted. Some days, you managed... others? Others were harder. You wished certain body parts could just be detachable. Well, they were with the right surgery but you didn't have that kind of money and you sure as hell weren't about to ask Regina.

When you backed away from her, she raised an eyebrow and took a couple steps closer until her hands gripped your waist and pulled you in flush against her.

"Where do you think you're going?" She smirked at you, hand trailing up your side. Sending a shiver down your spine as you bit your bottom lip in response.

"I..." You take a breath, gathering your thoughts. Do you tell her about your insecurities? "Not today, Regina. Please." You voice was barely above a whisper, feeling vulnerable in the moment.

She looked almost offended for a brief second but her features softened as she looked into your eyes, trying to get a good read on how you were feeling. She could see your vulnerability and it all clicked in place.

She sighed deeply and grabbed your hand, pulling you over to the bed as she made you sit down before straddling your lap and looking into your eyes. Her hand rested under your chin.

"You are fucking beautiful." Regina whispered, giving your jawline a kiss." So damn handsome."

"Regina- that's not-" You stuttered out, though whatever you were going to say died in your throat as she kissed your jawline. Your hands instinctively went to wrap around her waist to keep her in your lap.

"What? That's not true?" Regina's eyes met yours again and you shook your head. That wasn't what you were going to say.

"That's not what I meant. I can't stand my body, it makes me feel sick just thinking about it. This isn't who I am in my head and it hurts. How can you be with someone like me? Someone who can't even accept their own body?" You admitted out loud how you really felt, it felt good haven't it out but it hurt talking about it. Tears brimmed your eyes.

Regina frowned as she listened to you, she knew being nonbinary was hard for you. She knew you were hurting. She never realized just how much.

"Because I love your body. I love your mind. I love you. Alright? I'm not going to fucking leave you for someone else, you have what I want even if you can't see it for yourself. You're beautiful." Regina replied, her hands trailing along your sides as she speaks; making you shiver under her touches.

"Alright?" She asked again, her lips now brushing against your neck. You tilt your head to the side almost instinctively, allowing for her to have easier access as she kisses your neck. Sucking on the skin until a mark is left behind. Her finger gently touch it, making you shudder as she laughs a little. You were so easy. Every little thing she did had an effect on you.

"Mm..." You tried talking, but it came out as a soft hum instead of the 'okay' you had tried to say. Your mind wasn't fully settled, Regina could tell just looking into your eyes.

"You're beautiful. My handsome partner." Regina whispered into your ear, making you blush. You could tell what she was doing, giving praise to lessen your thoughts. You appreciated her for it.

You nodded slowly, taking in her words and allowing them to sink into your mind. Even if they were hard to accept.

"Better?" She asked, her hand now resting below your neck as her fingers just barely graze against it.

"Better... thank you." You mumbled, letting your eyes close as you melted under her touch.

"That's not a real thank you. Show me just how much you appreciate me." She whispered into your ear again, you blushed a deeper shade of red as you read between the lines of what Regina really meant.

She looked at you expectantly, you rolled your eyes but that didn't hide the smile (or blush) on your cheeks.

Regina smirked when she saw it and laid back in bed, head rested on the pillow as she grabbed you by your arms and pulled you on top of her.

You easily followed, laying your body down on hers as you began giving her neck soft kisses. Her head tilted to the side in response, eyes closed as she melted into the feeling.

Regina wouldn't call herself submissive, she wasn't submitting to you. She was more of a pillow princess, she wanted her body to be worshipped by you. Treated like a Goddess.

Your soft kisses became harder as you sucked on her skin, leaving that oh so familiar mark. Matching the one Regina had given you just moments before. You heard a soft whimper escape Regina's lips, so you kept going. Getting more of that sound from her. You made sure to start slow so you could worship her body the way she had wanted; and show her just how thankful you were. You'd spend the whole night treating her if you could.

"More... please." Regina almost begged, her tone sounding desperate. Part of her wanted you to just skip the worshipping and get right into the hard stuff, the other part of her wanted to be worshipped and praised. She felt torn.

"Hm? What's that, baby?" You smirked against her neck, looking up for a brief moment to lock eyes with hers. God, you loved being able to make her this desperate.

Regina gritted her teeth, trying to keep herself from begging for it but she knew you wouldn't give her what she wanted if she didn't.

"Fuck you." She cursed, you held back a laugh. You knew she was just frustrated with how you were doing this.

"Keep talking like that and I'll just stop all together." You whispered in her ear, sending a shiver through her body." Go on, beg me."

Regina's eyes closed again as she kept her mouth shut, when she felt you start to pull away and get up... she grabbed you and held you in place on top of her.

"Don't stop."

You smirked, knowing you had her exactly where you wanted her. You gave her throat a kiss and continued on with what you had been doing before... only you upped it a notch like Regina had asked for.

~~~

The next morning, you had woken up sore as you took your spare clothes and went to change in the bathroom like you normally did. Regina had felt you getting out of bed and started to stir, sitting up and rubbing one of her eyes.

Her eyes narrow when she sees you heading to the bathroom with your clothes.

"Y/N." Regina spoke up, her tone a mixture of stern and tired with sleep.

You stopped in your tracks, hand on the door frame as you looked back at your girlfriend and tilted your head in confusion.

"Yeah?"

"Get your ass over here." Regina demands, you sigh and listen. Going to her bedside. She grabs you by your waist and suddenly pulls you into her lap, making you gasp at the sudden action.

"Regina-"

She cuts you off with a kiss, making you quickly shut up and melt into her body.

Regina parts the kiss and stares into your eyes, hand gripping your chin to make sure you had your full attention on her.

"You're changing out here. Repeat what I told you yesterday." Her tone was stern, but it didn't come from a place of meanness like it usually does for everyone else. She was always a little softer on you.

"You told me a lot of things yesterday," You gave a teasing response back, you knew what Regina wanted you to say. You wanted to see how much you could get away with.

She rolled her eyes, her grip tightening around your chin just slightly." Don't be a smartass."

"Fine... I'm beautiful." You muttered, she could tell by how you said it you didn't mean it.

"Y/N." Her tone remained the same.

"I'm beautiful." You repeat, Regina kissed your cheek and let go of your chin.

"Damn right you are. Now get dressed. Where's your jacket?" She added, looking around her room for a brief moment to see if she could spot it.

You looked at her in confusion. Your jacket?

"My letterman jacket?" You asked, wondering why the hell Regina would want it.

"Yeah. Where'd you put it?"

"Um... I think it's on the couch downstairs. Why?"

Regina rolled her eyes, getting out of bed. There was a slight shake in her legs which made you smirk, feeling pretty damn proud of yourself because you knew she was still effected by the night before.

"I'm wearing it. Obviously."

"To school?" Your eyes widened a little, that jacket had your last name on it. Was she seriously about to reveal your relationship?

"No, to a funeral. Yes, dumbass." Regina narrowed her eyes, annoyed with the amount of questions you were asking though she couldn't help feeling a little amused when she saw your reaction. She was planning on hard launching your relationship. She wanted people to know she was taken by you. She wanted it to be the talk of the school. She knew exactly what she was doing with this.

And sure enough, everyone at school knew Regina belonged to you and that you belonged to her. When they saw her in your jacket it started so many rumours and for the first time in your entire highschool life... nobody bothered you. They didn't want to risk the wrath of Regina George.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #nonbinary reader #regina george x nonbinary reader

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luveline · 2 months

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jadeee!! how are you?? I was rereading everything asf universe and I thought, as a belated weasley twin bd treat, perhaps a drabble of r and Fred at Angelina and George’s wedding and Fred realised how much he wants that for him and r?? i wanna see them get hitched soo bad!

that whole universe is sooo special to me, endless thank yous to you and your amazing brain for writing it❤️

I love you!! It’s so special to me too!!!! And I’m so grateful to you for reading!!!!! fem, 1.2k

cw mental health issues

Fred gets you in his lap, but it takes all day, and only after the speeches.

“You were very brave,” he says.

“Don’t patronise me.”

“I’m not,” he says, his arms folded around you, your side to his front so as to keep his gaze on your face. You’ve genuinely never looked so beautiful, not ever. It’s the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever worn, and you’ve smiled all day. He can’t believe it.

“Was it an okay speech?”

Fred finds your hand to hold.

I didn’t know what it was like to have a friend before I met George and Fred, you’d said, staring hard at Molly rather than the crowd, your nerves apparent in every word. I’ve never known someone to love as hard or as generously as he does. I… wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. And so it makes me so happy to see him loved like that in return. I know he’ll be a good husband, because he is a great friend, and I think that’s half the battle, and– and he tries so hard. I wish you both a happy marriage and… a great honeymoon.

George didn’t beg you to say something, but he’d begged Fred to convince you, and everyone could see how much it meant to him that you’d managed to do it in front of so many people. George had no trouble proclaiming that you were his best friend in the entire world and that he would kill anybody who ever crossed you, including his twin, if it were to come to that.

It will never come to that. Fred will never break your heart.

“I didn’t know you were going to say that much,” Fred says.

“Too much?” you ask, looking down at his chest.

“No, sweetheart, no. It was lovely. I just knew it was gonna be hard for you.”

“You talked for half an hour,” you say.

It’s an exaggeration, but not by much. “I had to embarrass him fully. That’s what getting married is for.”

You press your cheek to his shoulder. The lights in the hall are low, your seats at the main table shaded from the lights and the music. George and Angelina’s family mingle, dance, and sing quite drunkenly. It’s very normal, but you’ve had a long day. Fred’s not sure you’re up for dancing. He doesn’t mind.

“It was a lovely speech,” Fred affirms. He’d murmur if he weren’t worried you’d miss it with all the noise. “He knows public speaking isn’t for you, and it was probably a better gift for him than the DFS voucher.”

“Better than a new sofa?” you ask. “You’re joking.”

He laughs at your joking and presses a heap of kiss all over the side and top of your face. You melt under his touching, slouching into him, the curl of your smile palpable on his shoulder. He can feel it. “My mum’s coming. She’s trying to be subtle. Shall I send her away?”

“I like your mum,” you say.

She’s in a dress with huge draped sleeves, her hair piled away from her face, her lips a pale pink to suit her red hair. When she talks, Fred can see the happy tear tracks that mark her powder. “Hello, you two.”

You sit up to a slightly more respectable position, but it isn’t as though she hasn’t seen you and Fred touching. “Hi.”

“Hi, mum.”

“How are you both? There’s more champagne around the side, dearie, your father can get you another bottle if you like.” She beams at you both. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s a long day, mum,” Fred says, mildly apologetic.

“I know. Imagine how much worse it is when it’s your own.” She brushes a strand of hair from Fred’s face. “Well, alright, I’ll go bother someone else.”

“You’re not bothering us,” you say quickly.

“I know, sweetheart.” She gives you a motherly shoulder squeeze. “I just wanted to make sure you were both okay. I’ll make sure they play a few slow songs for you to dance to. I need good photos for my wall.”

Fred laughs against the back of your head. “Thanks, mum.”

She leaves you quickly, attention snatched by Percy where he’s calling for her to come and dance, and leaves Fred in particular with an idea he’s been trying and failing to ignore all day. He knows it’s cliche, but his brother's wedding has made him think of his own, and how it will go and when it will be. If he asked you to marry him, would you say yes?

“You really do look so pretty,” he says.

“You’ve told me a couple of times,” you say shyly.

“I can’t believe it. I’m coming to terms with it.”

“Do you think we’ll get married?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, startled, and wondering for the thousandth time if you can really read his mind. “I suppose you’ll have to let me ask you first, but of course I do.”

You nod distractedly. It’s not the reaction he’d hoped for.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

Loving you is learning when to manage a crisis. Not that you’re always in crisis, but it’s an essential skill he’s obtained nonetheless. He waits for you to answer his question patiently, his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up gently to his eye level.

“Do you remember the first Christmas I came to stay with you?” you ask. “Before we were together.”

“I remember.”

“I told you that I didn’t think anyone would ever marry me. That I’m not that… sort of person.”

Fred shifts his legs under your weight. You aren’t heavy, the chairs are uncomfortable, and he plans to have you here for hours upon hours if he can swing it. “Yeah.”

“But you said you’d prove me wrong. We hadn’t even kissed.”

“And you still didn’t think I had a crush on you,” he teases.

You gather your arms to wrap behind his head, sitting taller, cwtching his face to your neck. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Ghost, I know everything about you. It makes total sense to me, believe it or not. And I will prove you wrong, I promise. If that’s what you want– it’s what I want, I just haven’t figured out how to ask you yet. Can you give me a little more time?”

You suck in a strange breath. He’d like to say it was delighted, but it’s better labelled as shocked. “Okay.”

“Thank you. We’ll have much better music.”

You turn your heads to the dance floor, where Arthur has unearthed those extra bottles of champagne Molly promised, and the Weasley troupe are dancing like an especially ginger entourage of fools to something abrasive by the Weird Sisters.

“Should we go dance?” you ask.

“In a minute. After my dads discovered that champagne isn’t regular champagne, I think.”

You shed the panic you’d been fostering to kiss his warm cheek. “Idiot, what did you do?”

“It’s his wedding, Ghost, what did you expect?”

You kiss his cheek again. A third time and he’s blushing. “Love you, Fred. Do you think George will forgive me for bending the truth?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“‘Cos I was lying, you know, when I said he’s the most loving person I’ve ever met. That’s you.”

Ugh, he thinks, dipping you backwards for a kiss. What a girl.

#a special friend universe #fred weasley x reader

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thefiery-phoenix · 2 months

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how about yandere boyfriend h/c for Gun Park 🫶🏻

Sure

YANDERE PARK JONGGUN HEADCANONS

If you have this psychotic fighting obsessed lunatic after you as a yandere or as a significant other, I seriously pray for you and your mental health. He's the cause of people's trauma and gave at least half the lookism characters their own sob backstories. You'd meet him in middle school. He's the heir of the famous Japanese Yakuza organization of the Yamazaki clan. You didn't want anything to do with him at first. He was the poster boy for being a troublemaker and kept beating people up left and right. You hated his cruelty towards the other students and wanted to stay the heck away from him. One day however you accidentally bumped into him and you spilled some water over his shirt. His bodyguards simply glared at you menacingly as Gun stared at you with a cold stoic look on his face. However when you apologized profusely with a flustered embarrassed expression on his face, a small smirk formed on his lips as he watched you with an amused expression, trying to wipe his shirt with that cute little handkerchief of yours

You've managed to intrigue him now, congratulations because you have a stalker on your trail. He quietly observes you in the classes, how you're always quick to answer the questions asked by the teacher, how you're so eager to finish doing your homework...you were such a goody two shoes, the typical girl next door and he found your personality rather amusing. He felt like a predator watching his pretty little prey and he felt a surge of power rush through him. He found out everything about you within 10 minutes and during the lunch period he quietly left a bottle of your favorite drink and left

He promised himself he'd never have time for silly frivolous distractions like love and that nonsense. He was supposed to destroy everyone in his path to attain his great title of becoming the king of the second generation, so why couldn't he fight you when he was about to hit some random moron because they'd dared to challenge him. "Leave. This doesn't concern you" he said with his usual cold look on his face as a slight flash of irritation flashed in his eyes. Why on earth would you defend someone so weak and insignificant when you're supposed to be by his side? Do you not know you belong to him now? However when he sees you extending your arms out and looking at him with a slight angry determined pout and asking him to leave the student alone, for the first time, he actually listened to someone and it was you. An amused smirk formed on his face. "Aww...how cute, a little princess is trying to be a hero...just know things won't always work out your way and you'll need someone like me in the end to protect you...I'll wait for that day to come" said Gun with a slight hint of malice dancing manically in his eyes as he left

A few years later you've heard of his fearful and dangerous reputation around South Korea of how he's busy terrorizing the other gangs with another blonde pest named Goo. However you had no intention of getting involved in things like gang wars and such, your only objective was to just survive high school and get a decent job and make a life of your own. If you thought for a moment he's stopped watching you, you're absolutely wrong. He's always on the lookout for you and is always keeping an eye on you. The other day some random guy started hitting on you despite your repeated attempts of refusing him

"She said no you lousy insect..get lost before I murder you" said a familiar cold voice as he came out of the shadows in his long black suit and black glasses as he smoked a cigarette and glared at the man. "Who the hell are you to tell me what to-" said the man but couldn't finish his sentence as Gun ended up grabbing him by his neck with his hand and flung him to the nearby. He then put out his cigarette on top of the man's unconscious head as he smirked at you. "Well princess...it's been a while since we've met" he said as he strode closer to you. He surveyed your features, you didn't change since the last time he saw you. However what drew him towards you was your childlike naivety and innocence. Something he wanted for himself

"I'll be upfront with you...I don't play games. Go out with me. And don't you dare refuse, you know you don't have that option" he said as he leaned closer to you just to make you feel more flustered which he was getting a kick out of. You sighed and agreed to go out with him as he smiled evilly at you. But deep down, he could feel his heart melt slightly at your acceptance. What a good little doll you were, doing whatever he asked from you

As a yandere, he would be possessive, obsessive and manipulative as well. He's not above to using other people as mere chess pieces just to get whatever he wants from you. But the bright side is, he doesn't hurt you, physically or emotionally. Despite him not being too fond of the idea of romance, he has a pretty good idea of what to do with a partner. He likes taking you out to nice fancy restaurants where there's a private booth so you won't be able to squeal for help. This sadistic MF here loves and lives to see you squirm and get flustered. Don't get too surprised when this jerk here keeps running his hands down your thigh with a smirk on his face

He ALWAYS knows your location, despite you not even telling him. A certain purple haired brat keeps him informed as insufferable as he might be. If you've guessed it was Kouji then good job, you win a cookie. Another blonde psychopath who goes by the name Goo keeps him informed as well. You're not supposed to go anywhere without telling your man where you're going. He'll always be stalking you from the shadows, you're never really alone. He doesn't want you getting involved in gang fights and crew messes and stuff. When you asked him to fight you, he simply cracked a sadistic amused grin. A few seconds later you found yourself on the ground as he pet your head and chuckled softly. "Naive little princesses like you aren't supposed to be in gang fights..." he said as he softly caressed your cheek

He'd rather take this to the grave than admit this out loud but he loves it when you rake your fingers through his hair. He feels like all the walls in his heart are breaking down and he lets out a soft contended hum of approval. Had it been Goo doing that, his fingers would have been bent at an unnatural angle and would have to deal with his incessant whining. He also likes to hold you and have you on his lap. He likes the physical intimacy. Plus the view is great too, there's a reason he wears glasses you know...this shameless perv 💀

Don't underestimate his power. The second you try to leave him or get away from him, he'll end up kidnapping you. He has his own reasons, selfish reasons to be precise. Scream, cry and throw as many number of tantrums as you want, you won't be leaving him anytime soon. There's no way you'll be able to even fight him so the sooner you get that silly little thought from your pretty little head, the better it would be for everyone involved. He'll just think you might need some time to adjust and he'll give you your space. However when you try kicking and punching him, he'll just take them with an amused smirk on his face and coo at you describing your hits compared to that of a bratty little child trying to hit someone

He'd spoil the hell out of you though, whatever your little heart desires it's yours. Just say the word. He also likes it when he comes back from a fight and you patch him up and he can't help but lean in slightly into your touch as he looks at you with a soft affectionate look, reserved only for you, the special one in his heart. Of course, he might be a cocky little jerk to get deliberately injured in fights at times just to feel your touch and to see how adorable you look when you're all concerned and fussing over him. Goo will eventually call him out on his BS only for Gun to whack him across the head with a slight smirk but he wouldn't deny it

Now, as for the people who dare to steal you away from him or try to take you away from him...not even the gods would be able to save them. He will have no mercy when it comes to such people. Perhaps if he's feeling a tad bit merciful and he wants to get home to you quickly, he'll just beat them up till they're literally hospitalized for a month. Or else it's straight up death in the most gruesome and horrendous manner possible. He does not hold back and will go even feral than usual. Some lousy moron tried to take pictures of you while you were unaware of it a few days ago. Gun didn't even bother to hesitate to break the punk's hand and crush it in one go, silently vowing to murder the little pest later on in the night

Don't even bother trying to escape from him, you'll just be making him laugh at this point. He doesn't even need any help tracking you down, like I said before, he'll always know where you are. He can read you like an open book and knows what your thoughts are. He might be cold and aloof at times but he does like cuddling with you and petting your head affectionately. As much as you nag him to quit smoking, that's something he wouldn't give up on. But he finds it amusing and endearing how fussy you get about it and will pull you onto his lap and quickly capture your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss

Ultimately at the end of the day, no matter how ruthless he is he just wants to come back to you and have you in his arms, right where you belong...

#yandere lookism #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere gun x reader #yandere gun park headcanons #yandere gun park scenarios #yandere gun park oneshots #yandere gun park imagines #yandere park jonggun headcanons #yandere park jonggun #yandere park jonggun x reader #dark lookism #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism characters x reader #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons

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ametrictonofaudacity · 10 months

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How would the yandere Batfamily react if reader got sick? Maybe reader ends up so fevered that they start crying if someone isn’t holding them because they don’t understand what’s going on.

Boy oh boy do I love this ask!

Enjoy!

Warnings: altered mental states, overprotectiveness, paranoia, and captivity. Also medical stuff (the use of liquid IV to rehydrate, as well as pills to reduce a fever)

There’s a cool hard carding through your hair and it’s so much better than the cold tile beneath you. The tile was great, sure, but it was hard and uncomfortable and not nearly as nice as the way the hand brushes back your hair and presses against your forehead.

You groan, and blink your eyes open. Dick is kind of fuzzy above you, and his face is twisted in worry, making you want to reach up and wipe that worry away. You manage to weakly push yourself up, before a strong arm supports you, holding you up and keeping you steady. You decide you like that, and hum, the sound a little cracked because of how much your throat hurt.

“Oh, god..”

Dick murmurs, and he sounds almost panicked as he presses a cool hand to your forehead.

“Let’s get you to Alfie, yeah? You’re burning up, Y/N.”

He hums, and strong arms hoist you up, cradling you against an even stronger chest. You sigh, snuggling into the embrace, and you hear that huffy laughter Dick gives when he’s trying not to be mean but finds something funny. Or cute. Could be both.

“How come you aren’t this snuggly without the fever, huh?” He teases, and you’re vaguely aware of the sensation of movement, which makes your stomach twist and churn. He notices.

“Just hold on a little longer, okay? Then you’ll feel so much better.” The man soothes, and at some point, there’s a new body next to you, walking alongside Dick, silent and small but comforting.

It’s Cass. You blink at her, exhausted, and she gives you a gentle smile. You liked Cass, out of all your siblings, she was one of the best. She didn’t crowd you, or demand things you couldn’t give. She could be cuddly, and it was nice when she was, because she always knew when you were upset and tired and frustrated.

You reach out to grab her hand, and she takes it. They’re just as cool as Dick’s, like ice on your fevered skin, and you sigh. Her thumb soothes over the back of your hands, over the delicate bones there, and you hum.

When Dick sets you down, there’s immediately a distressed sound trying to escape your throat, something between a sob and a yell, and Cass is suddenly there, wrapping you up in cool arms. Cass was much closer to your size, and it was nice.

“You’re okay. We won’t leave.” She assures.

You sigh, glad that someone was with you when your body ached and your head was pounding. You lean into the coolness of her embrace, and she runs her fingers through your hair, gently untangling it the best she could. You thought that wasn’t the best idea, since you felt sweaty and gross, but she didn’t seem to mind and the feeling was too nice to really protest.

There’s a prick in your arm.

When you turn your head, the needle is already gone, and you wonder just how long it had taken for your fevered brain to register it.

“Crap. Cass, can you..?”

Cass is pressing something to your lips before Dick finishes, and you take the pill without even thinking about it. A liquid, vaguely sweet, follows it. It’s practically heaven on your parched throat.

“How are they?”

It’s the first time you hear Bruce’s voice all day, and he buries his hands in your hair, not seeming to mind that it was sweaty and kind of gross. You practically melt into the gentleness of it.

“Has their fever gone down any? Have they had enough fluids?”

He questions, even as he moves around you, reaching for things you can’t see and don’t bother looking at. Bruce never risked your health, and your head hurt too much to really care.

“Cass have them some fever reducers and liquid IVs.” Dick hums. “We just administered it, and we’re monitoring their temperature.”

Bruce hums, and you blink when Cass slips away, and you make a distressed noise, tears springing to your eyes. You felt wrung out and exhausted, so when

Bruce is there instantly, wiping the sweat from your face with a damp cloth, and you lean into it, breathing out a sigh of relief. It felt so much better than even Cass’s cuddles, or Dick’s cool hands.

“You’re going to feel better in a little bit. Just hang in there.” He assures gently, and you nod. You trusted Bruce. Or, with this at least. It was hard not to, with the worried gleam in his eyes and the way he held you so gently.

“Why can’t you be this cuddly healthy, huh, baby bat?”

Dick asks, and there’s a tiny pinch in your arm. You cringe at the sensation and he makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, sorry, that’s the I.V. We just need to get some fluids in ya, mkay? And bring the fever down.”

You nod, and Bruce runs his hand through your hair again, fixing the strands.

You sigh, drifting off, confident they wouldn’t leave your side.

#yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere platonic batfam x reader

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copperbadge · 4 months

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More on mindfulness and meditation

I feel like perhaps I came across as anti-meditation in that last post I did on it, and there were some folks who were a bit vocal about not liking meditation in the notes, but the notes also had some great and interesting discussion of what can count as mindfulness that isn't traditional meditation and what some alternatives might be, so I wanted to do a follow-up. Especially since I don't think I'm going to get to respond to everyone individually.

The post was not meant to be anti-meditation, but to express frustration with the way meditation frequently is, or rather fails to be, taught. I can understand why people would struggle with "mindfulness" (vastly overused term) and meditation, so I'm not here to argue with or shame anyone, and I really appreciate the alternative suggestions. But because mindfulness can mean so many things, and people can meditate for many different reasons, I wanted to talk a little about why I'm being asked to do it.

It's easy to lose track of why one might try meditation for mental health, because the cause and effect are so temporally dislocated from each other. I try to keep in mind that my specific goal is emotional regulation deriving from increased present-moment attention. Some of the stuff that was suggested is great for a goal other than this, like puzzle games that allow people to empty their racing minds or activity that brings someone back into their body when dissociating -- both extremely laudable functions! -- but that's not why I'm here. Meditation is meant, for me, to be a maintenance medication, not a rescue inhaler.

There is science that suggest that mindfulness practice, under a specific definition of the term, can help to manage emotional dysregulation, ameliorate Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and reduce depression and anxiety. I discuss the science in a slideshow here but essentially this specific form trains the attention into the present moment, which improves executive function -- and as we know, emotional regulation is a facet of executive function, so this leads to better emotional regulation.

There is not a lot of science on it yet so there is room here for yoursamplesizeissmall.jpg, but it's all we've got so I'm running with it. There is one foundational practice and three practices that build on it which effected this change in subjects of the study:

Breathing Meditation doesn't really confer any benefit the others don't, but the others all employ it as a basic practice. We know this can calm the parasympathetic nervous system, although to be honest I have not found that to be the case personally. As soon as I stop the deep breathing I'm right back where I was, likely because my issue is ruminational, not situational. But everything else wants you to breathe first, so I still have to do it.

Body Scan focuses attention on the body and as others have pointed out is good for people prone to dissociation. As I said in the other post, I live here; paying extra attention to my body isn't something I need. I was asked to try it anyway as part of a practice in keeping an open mind about stuff I think is dumb, and clearly I do need practice in that. Still, it's likely I'll be able to let this one go pretty soon.

Loving-Kindness asks you to think positively about others, expanding compassion from a single point outward to the world. I've encountered this before in reading Pema Chodron; I don't do it as meditation, but I do try to practice it in life because I am not naturally a patient or compassionate person, and that has been helpful in the sense that it keeps me from getting punched in the face a bunch. For me there's no real "train the attention to be in the present" aspect on account of that, however.

Observing-Thought is where you just sit with your thoughts, let them arise, sometimes label them in some way, and let them go. I was most interested in this purely because it's the only one I hadn't already encountered. I haven't found it useful so far, but I don't have enough data about it to be definitive, and if it is training executive function I would expect that to take time.

Now, I know that all four of these have science backing them, so I know that we're not just dealing in new-age woo here. The problem is functional, not theoretical. The issue overall is not "meditation is boring" -> "find a way to make it interesting", although I do appreciate that it may be an issue for others and I like that people were offering solutions. The issue for me is that the boredom derives from the fact that the meditation isn't being taught. There's no progressional learning -- there's no step-progress-reward-step-progress-reward like with most difficult skills.

Any task is boring if you aren't deriving any reward from it or you are being expected to execute it without skills or training, and in this case I'm facing down both. Long silences from a meditation leader are fine if you're there to engage with a practice you already have familiarity with, but if you're trying to learn, they are the opposite of helpful, and they are actively punishing to someone with ADHD.

I don't want to be entertained (I mean, generally I do, but in this case I don't expect it). What I want is a pedagogical approach that steps up to the practice rather than beginning with it, so that I know I'm doing it right, I experience rewards along the way similar to how I currently do learning Italian, and I have more confidence that what seems dull and fruitless actually will produce results.

Uh, so yeah thanks for coming to my TEDtalk; the fact that a practice that's especially hard for people with ADHD helps with almost every problem ADHD presents really sucks, and I wish we approached teaching meditation as if it were something you actually did have to learn rather than something you're supposed to Do Until You Get It. In the meantime I guess bumping the speed on the recording isn't the worst thing I could be doing.

#sam has adhd #not yet fired from therapy #mindfulness

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

Ghita Nørby (Baronessen fra benzintanken, Sømand i knibe, 3 må man være)—I know there's probably not enough danes on here to make this happen, but at the very least I need people to have a look at her holding this pig

Vera-Ellen (On the Town, White Christmas)— she's a phenomenal and charismatic dancer, I'd say UNMATCHED in terms of movement. She's just hypnotizing, so sharp and musical and she always looks like shes having so MUCH FUN! Furthermore she has a beautiful smile and a silliness/playfulness to her acting I love. Her real life story is somewhat sad and the death of her daughter kept her from blowing up as a bigger star, but the delight she brings to the movies she was in is so memorable!

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Ghita Nørby:

Vera-Ellen:

Have you seen her dance!? Right up there with Grace Kelly for grace and beauty and her tap performances can be jaw dropping.

Her dancing skills are so impressive it makes me forget how to speak. She moves like she’s made out of elastic, and she looks good doing it. Also she has great chemistry with Danny Kaye (RIP to the men’s bracket, he was gone too soon) and is just… stunning. Deserves to be known for way more but sadly she had a pretty tough life. But she was so so talented, and I love her.

youtube

Her dancing with Danny Kaye in White Christmas is absolutely wonderful.

vera-ellen is one of the most technically skilled dancers to EVER dance, according to fred astaire and others. she had the most beautiful voice, she was incredibly hard working, she was a ROCKETTE at one point AND was on broadway for several years before doing movies and later tv. she was rumored to be dealing with mental health issues her whole life, and she still managed to come out on top. overall an incredible career. and oh my god ladies. her legs. her control. she’s so delicate and lovely whenever she dances, it’s absolutely incredible. she’s always so light on her feet. i could watch her dance forever.

youtube

amazing dancer, down to earth vibes onscreen, such a talent

Extremely underappreciated today but she was one of the best dancers in Hollywood's classic era.

she's lip synching here but i think it conveys the hotness:

youtube

Best known for her dancing and Barbie-doll figure. She was briefly a Rockette but was fired for standing out too much. She danced with both Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, and showed off her comedic chops in White Christmas with Danny Kaye. She said dancing for her was like breathing; if she stopped it’d be “very bad”.

I was quite literally floored as a child when I found out Vera Ellen wasn’t a bigger star considering her in White Christmas was a huge part of my bi awakening- gorgeous and talented!

#vera-ellen #ghita nørby #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman #Youtube

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forgeofthenine · 4 months

Note

This isn’t even what I wanted to write for Rolan but the nonnie yesterday who sent in that heart breaking ask about if you died fed my plot bunnies so this took over my brain until it was done lol.

For my own mental health while writing this, Cal and Lia have been rescued at this point. I don’t think even Karlach could stop a Rolan who thinks he really has lost everyone. -🪻

~~~~~~~

You’d died before. Most adventures had. The first time, most people tend to understandably panic. It’s not a small thing to wrap your head around, that you’d been here and then not for a moment before you were brought back. One scroll (or one spell from your cleric if you have the diamonds to spend.) and you’re back good as new if not a little worse for wear. Eventually, after it happens enough, you start to get used to it. The window of time for a revivification is so small that death never really has the time to settle in your bones, you don’t feel its cold grip seeping into your soul. You start to get reckless, after all, you’ve always been able to come right back should you fall.

But not this time.

Rolan is at the Last Light, sitting at one of the tables near the entrance with a drink in hand watching Cal and Lia argue animatedly over some ridiculous thing or another. He’d thought about stopping them for the sake of preventing a headache later from their shouting but quickly put that thought out of mind when he realized their nonsense was more a show for the children than anything else. So he bit his tongue and stifled a smile, lest the children realize he can be anything more than a grump.

His seat also gives him the best view of the waystone by the bridge. You didn’t always have time to stop by the Inn and chat with him on your way to your nearby camp but if he could at least see you return safely then his heart could rest easy until you spoke next. It was late in the day already, so you and your group should be returning any moment

As if the gods heard him, at that moment the waypoint flared to life and brought your party back. Two, Gale and Karlach split off immediately towards the inn, while Astarion ran at full speed to your camp carrying something in his arms. He looked around for you and felt the dread sink into his chest when you were nowhere to be found and realization began to dawn. That hadn’t been something Astarion was carrying, it was someone.

Gale and Karlach reach him just as he reaches that horrifying conclusion and begins to rise. Each of them putting a hand somewhere on his person, whether to ground him or restrain him he wasn’t sure. The inn begins to quiet at that, everyone around them taking in their drawn and somber expressions as they look at him. Karlach speaks first, softly as though she’s trying to keep him from falling apart. Though by the look on her face she might also be trying to prevent herself from going to pieces. “It’s going to be okay, there’s someone at our camp who can help. But right now the best thing you can do is to stay here, okay?”

Almost immediately, that cold dread that’s filling him is replaced with a white hot rage. How dare they try to hold him back when they’re partially to blame for what happened. When they’re the ones who didn’t do enough to prevent this from happening. Dimly, he recognizes that not a small amount of this anger is misplaced, after all, these same people he was furious with now had at least been there. They’d tried to stop what happened from happening. They’d had to watch as you fell. All the while, he’d been here, warm and comfortable, drinking and laughing like a fool.

And just like that the warmth of his anger leaves him again and he’s once again overtaken by cold fear. He doesn’t even realize he’s sat down again, or that nearly everyone in the inn is looking at their group with a touch of that same fear. You were supposed to be invincible, this great irritating hero that somehow manages to put off the epic deeds you set yourself to. You weren’t supposed to fall.

Karlach is still sitting with him, Gale has gone over to Jaheira to fill her on what happened. He sees her face harden and then she gives a short nod. She commands the Harpers to gather and she gives orders to increase patrols on certain areas. He must have made a face because Karlach’s soft voice breaks through the fog he’s in again to explain, “We ran into needle-blights, three separate groups. Nasty fuckers if you haven’t had the pleasure. A pain to kill, since they’re tough as nails and the damn things explode when they do finally die. We were all a bit too close when the last few went down after Gale’s fireball but…”. He doesn’t need her to finish, he can almost picture what happened. You were no doubt right in the middle of everything and got caught up in the chain reaction. You probably told them to do it too, you and your stupid self sacrificing ways. By the time anyone was able to get near, it would have been far too late.

Karlach and Gale both look abruptly in the same direction, before they walk off, Karlach pulling him with her as she strode away. “Wha-“ he starts to stammer. “It’s all okay now, Withers worked his magic.” Karlach says, a bit less tense and with far less heaviness in her eyes. Before he can ask another question, namely “Who is Withers??”, they’ve activated the waypoint and he’s in your camp with them.

Shadowheart and Halsin are beside you just outside your tent and are working to try and ease the ache of a proper resurrection as best they can. You look up and see him there and try and give a smile but what you manage to give him is small and shaky and makes you look damn near to tears. Your hands are shaking in your lap where they rest and he runs over and drops to sit as out of the way as he can while still being beside you. His hands reach out and stop as if he’s not sure if you’re stable enough for contact yet. The two healers finish what they can and leave, giving you both some kind of privacy. Really the whole camp can’t bear to take their eyes off you for a moment, in case you fall again, in case the magic doesn’t hold and you slip away.

You look at Rolan and your lip trembles and that’s all it takes for him to wrap you in his arms as tight as he can and you sob. You cry like a child experiencing true fear for the first time and he holds you. He rocks you back and forth and holds you together as you fall apart. And if he’s crying too who has the nerve to say anything. He presses his lips to your temple and holds you tighter. He shifts you both inside your tent as your sobbing slows and sits so he’s leaning against something, and just holds you as you calm. When you fall asleep in his arms, he repositions you both, pausing before he lays down to remove his boots and outer robes with all its irritating bits. He lays down beside you in just his breeches and shirt and pulls you back into him to sleep. He doesn’t know what dreams or nightmares one has after dying, but he can’t imagine they’ll be pleasant.

Because whatever else comes, at least for right now, he will be there at your side to face it.

Flower anon, have I told you recently how much I love you?

This makes me feel SO MANY FEELINGS-

It doesn't help that you somehow managed to pick the exact team my original Tav ran with for almost the entire game/final battle. I just want to kiss Rolan until he feels better and keep him in my pocket so he never feels bad again. This was glorious as always and I love getting your fics in my inbox ♥️

#bri rambles #bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #flower anon

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for suggesting that my friend (A) NOT focus so much money into her little brother's (B) top surgery?

their family, while not toxic or abusive, is a little more close (or enmeshed?) than i ever was with mine. and thats great! it works for them and i love how much they care for each other. but A is 25 and married, significantly in debt, has a kid (on purpose) and her husband hasnt earned that much in the years since he went straight from high school to the work force. he now has a job getting like 25-30 an hour i think, but still thats not a lot for their situation. she had a salaried job (about 30k/year) but it wasnt working for her and she decided to quit. which i totally support, the position wasnt great for her and she wasnt great for the position. if she hadnt quit, she woulda been let go. she's looking for new jobs now.

anyway, all this to say, they are NOT flush with cash. and yet, every penny they have left after basic needs is being put toward B's top surgery- before even paying down their debt.

i especially want to know if i'm the asshole in a transphobic sense, because part of my reasoning is that B is a super skinny kid, and only 15 years old. he has an A cup at most. and the family had to jump through a million hoops to get permission or whatever for him to get his top surgery as gender affirming care.

i've brought up the idea that maybe B waits till he's 18 and gets it as an elective/cosmetic procedure, because the cost will be about the same to do that versus to get it as gender-affirming care under insurance. and that gives B time to save up his own money, and his family more time to organize their finances and contribute their parts. but A never seems to give a direct answer for why their family is so set on B getting his surgery before he's 18. of course i believe he should be allowed to by law and he shouldn't have has to go through so much trouble.

but B works summers only, at a low-paying job (ive worked the same job when i was a teen, it isnt enough to save up much) and is depending on his family for all this, even though his sister (A) and parents are all in rough spots financially. A just seems so stressed about money and i wonder if i'm the asshole for thinking she should just focus on her and her little immediate family for a while till theyre back on their feet. its noble and caring to be so invested in B getting the care he needs, but it's hurting A's finances, mental health, and family stress levels.

of course at the end of the day, it's none of my business. i'm A's friend, not life coach or money manager or anything else. i'm just curious what the aita voters think about all this. if i were to push the issue and make suggestions, would i be the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mistkisbiggestfan · 6 months

Note

This is kinda AU but how the cast would react if they met a reader who already knows who they all are, because tadc is the newest biggest thing on TV. This network has been tricking people into entering tadc through these headsets (similar to sao) and people are seeing/betting/voting how long the crew could last without going insane, last one standing gets 100 million dollars (Kinger and Gangle are the top two people vote/bet to most likely abstract next, while Jax is a fan favorite character) I guess the reader could be an activist who was against the show the network wanted to silence so they put them in tadc too

TADC Cast x Gn! Reader

Tadc Cast x Gn! Reader

A/n: Hey took a lil break but I'm back on the grind! REQUESTS FOR TADC ARE OPEN!!

Summary: You were an activist against a network that runs TADC (which is a gameshow), but now you're stuck with the people you were trying to help Words: 1774 Request: Yes

Chaos.

But I think we all know that already.

You popped out in the main circus area just a few weeks after Pomni and it was not great.

Somehow you kept your memory in check, not forgetting anything, well, maybe not forgetting everything you knew before finding yourself trapped in the brand new show: “The Amazing Digital Circus!”.

Not everyone knew about the shady and dark part of it though, the people or “actors” / “animated characters” were actual normal humans taken away and put into this digital h#|! for entertainment.

But out of everyone, you knew.

You tried your best to shut down the network, do anything against this, basically cruel torture.

But the show must go on, right? They couldn’t let someone like you, destroy their source of money.

Especially when you started to snoop around too much for your own good.

Hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket, it was cold, so cold. Your breath turned into a cloud of fog, walking through the city, everybody looked like a bunch of serious chain-smokers.

It has been a few months since you started to fight for the rights of people who were currently stuck in “The Amazing Digital Circus!” The cruelty of a network using these people’s mental health as an attraction, to see who will break faster, disgusted you. And so you decided that you’ll do everything to help them, and to bring those greedy bastards from the company using them down.

People shoved others out of their way, shoulder hitting shoulder. Walking through such a mob was hard, especially since you were walking in an opposite direction of theirs, scoffing ladies and gentlemen looked at you in a rather disgusting manner.

And sure, you didn’t quite fit in here, with a jacket and clothes which weren’t close to the world “elegant”, men and women in suits passed by you with a raised eyebrow, a plan which consisted of fitting in failed already.

You turned around the corner, breaking away from the tide of busy workers currently trying to reach their respectful workplace. As you walked through a dark, shady alleyway you saw some people lying on the ground, nothing out of place really.

Finally, you were met with backdoors of a big company’s building. You put your hood on and took out your ID you may or not have stolen from one of the company’s programmers when he was drunk, not your fault, he should have been more careful.

As you walked through, you were met with a harsh and confusing environment, across the hall you spotted people who were very different from the rest, at least some of them were. The programmers of the whole thing were dressed in comfortable clothes – no dress code included them.

Before the escalators door shut, you managed to stick your foot, jamming the doors and getting in, a girl turned to you, visibly surprised. – Hey, who are you? – She asked, mumbling tiredly.

You felt your palms sweating a bit, they weren’t supposed to realize something was off so early on. But you had to play apart somehow, clearing your throat as you spoke, you said – Oh, I’m a new programmer here! It’s my first day.

She raised her eyebrow but didn’t question you, and just as her co–worker was about to ask you something, the escalator’s door opened, you speed walked away, but not before noticing the girl from moments prior talking to a security guard and pointing in your vague direction.

Shit, she had noticed your ID, or more likely, the fact the ID wasn’t yours. You had to move fast, and so you did. Walking along the corridor you noticed a room which differed from others. Looking away in both directions of the hall, you didn’t notice anyone, the way was clear. Your sweaty palm of your right hand rested on the doorknob, and as you pushed, the door creaked.

The interior was entirely white, now, with the passage of time, white walls were tinted yellow, giving off an unsanitary look, the tiles were cold, you felt it even through your boots. And there it was – the closet full of documents that would shut this company down, and hopefully, save the people stuck in that TV show or whatever it was.

You ramaged through the endless pages full of protocols, data and worthless information till you found the thing you were out for, a file with every single piece of information not redacted out. The only copy that existed. You shoved the paper into your backpack and turned to leave, getting away as far as you could now.

Getting out of the room was terrifying, a sense of panic filled your body and overwhelmed you, pulling the hood over your face harder, you turned to walk out of the hall – towards the escalator. But during your flight, you bumped into something, one of the security guards. Stumbling backwards you gazed up in terror, before trying to run away.

Unfortunately, the security guard grabbed you by the backpack effortlessly, trying to get away, you scratched at him with your nails. The only thing you remember prior to getting tased was other people walking towards you two. After that, you woke up as one of the new players of this hellish game you were trying to save them all from.

When you woke up, you panicked – of course – but not because you couldn’t remember anything, because you did remember, you panicked because now there was no way of you helping those people.

As you looked around dazzled, you knew all of the people there beforehand – Jax, Ragatha, Kinger, Zooble, Gangle, Caine and the new person – Pomni.

Looking down you saw how unhuman you have become, oh god, the feeling of static filling you instead of blood was too much.

Before you could say a world, Caine jumped in front of you.

“⊹HELLO DEAR!! WELCOME TO THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS!!!⊹” “No #u@k!ng way…”

Caine then proceeded to tell you how swearing is not accepted by the guidelines.

But you knew all of that already, so you pushed forward, looking at everyone else.

The thing you used to watch on TV, fight against, was now your reality.

Then your eyes were caught on Kinger and Gangle, poor souls. People watching this whole thing thinking it’s just a show, maybe a really clever animation, voted them to be most likely to abstract soon.

Jax walked over to you, even though your avatar was quite tall, almost taller than everyone, he tried to use you to lean on his elbow. – We get new stuff already? It hasn’t been two weeks since Pomni got here!

Oh god how you hated that man out of all people, this asshole was a fan favorite.

“Eat $h!t and d!e Jax.”

Silence.

You were met with silence and a lot of terrified looks from everyone in the main area.

Even Caine stood there bewildered.

“How did you know my name…?”

“Eh,, I’m good at guessing things..?”

“⊹OH WELL!! WEIRD THINGS ASIDE, LET ME TOUR YOU ALONG THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS {trade mark, all copyrights reserved}!!!!!!⊹”

You looked up at him, confused. “Oh no need, I think I’m good.”

Again, that was weird af. Caine stood there for a second calculating a good answer lmao.

Yeah the first meeting was rough, they were all very much weirded out. Bubble liked you though!

But that was because of another slip up you made. “So like, where is Bubble..?” That was def the wrong dialogue option because you can swear (not really tho) that Caine mumbled: How did they know who Bubble is..?

And out of everyone, you knew only one person would believe your crazy rambling for now, someone as desperate as you – Pomni.

So, one time, you took her by the arm, to a place you knew had no cameras, no one recording your conversation for content, and you told her about the fact that there has to be an exit here, that you remember everything, and that this is all a game for Caine and “the people outside”.

After you’re done, you already can tell that this was a bad idea. Her eyes went blank, with dark scribbles for pupils.

You huffed in annoyance and partial sympathy. – Just forget it Pomni, I’ll figure something out.. – The last part was more for you than her, when you started to walk away, you felt her run beside you, catching up. – Wait! What the h#|! do you mean!?? Who are the “people outside”!?! – She shouted before you tackled her and shushed her.

– Look, I explain this all once it’s safe to do so, now just act like you always do, nothing happened here. – You said before walking along, playing a part in this sick game. If someone told you about this beforehand, you would be on the other side of the continent right now.

And as you left her be, you knew that her mental health wasn’t well before all this and now it must’ve dropped to an all time low. Oh well, you’ll explain it to her later, once it’s safe.

You tried to slowly ease people into the idea that this was a TV show, a game. They all thought you were just another madman, like many before and many that will be here after.

Pomni seemed slightly hesitant, and once you started to help her look for exit, she was onboard with you.

Meanwhile people watching the game were having a blast with you as a new cast member, because of course, the secret that you know it’s a game got out and was now known by everyone (except for the TADC cast ofc).

So seeing you struggle in convincing them was funny.

You and Jax developed a funny dynamic in the meantime, it consisted of you telling them it's a game, Jax saying something like “Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.” And you two started to argue.

Out of everyone you didn’t mind swearing him out even if it was censored.

Pomni asked you about what you remember and you told her (almost) everything, like the fact that people vote on who they think will abstract, or even bid money on that. And the fact that Jax is the favorite, which makes her confused because why do people like a f#c(!ng @$$hole like him??

You soon had to adapt into this thing, trying to keep yourself and others sane.

And as you tried to figure out something to help you all, you couldn’t help but grow attached to the people around you.

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kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

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Hi!! May I req a fic where the boys accidently say something that upsets the gn!reader causing them to cry(like how they arent home now or something about them failing,etc), how would Malleus,Riddle, Vil and Azul react?

Hi, thank you for the ask! Oof this one's gonna be a bit of an angst. Short fics for these characters too, hope you like them!

Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Azul x reader: Let the Tears Fall

Malleus

He didn't mean to cause you any harm, that was the last thing he wanted to do while you were with him. He mentioned briefly that he was happy you were with him, in Twisted Wonderland of course, saying that he doesn't "mind if you were stuck here." He meant it in the most literal sense, that he would love for you to stay with him forever, never to return back to your world because he loves you so much. But that translated into possessiveness, something you didn't want in your relationship. Malleus laughed a little when he saw your pale face, he asked what was wrong, and you didn't say anything. Instead, you sat there, looking down at your knees as the winds caused the leaves to rustle in the forest. "Did I upset you?" Malleus asked, trying to reach for you but you just shook your head. You smiled, trying to hold the tears in, looking off into the distance as if to focus on something far away. "No...nothing I just...miss my world a bit...this place sort of reminds me of it," you said. A tear slid from your eye, and you were quick to wipe it off before he saw but the fae didn't miss it. He felt a chill run down his spine, he didn't think he could ever be a source of sadness to you. He never wanted to be such a thing, not when you always made him feel warm and loved. "Y/n, I'm...I'm sorry I spoke out of line," he said, wanting to take back his words. You tried to reassure him that you were fine, but your eyes still seemed hurt. Malleus would have a hard time forgetting that.

Riddle

"Once again, rose I told you it's not written in this way," he sounded pissed. Riddle was never patient with anyone, but when it came to you it seemed like he was a bit better at holding his temper. That was until today rolled by, a week before your exams and you were studying with him. You flinched as he slammed his notebook down and walked over to a chalkboard to demonstrate what he meant. You wrote down exactly what he wrote, listened to his words, but his tone kept making your heart race not in a good way. It was a panicked rhythm, something like you knew you were in trouble. This was your boyfriend for Great Seven's sake, what was going on? Riddle shouted your name again when you didn't answer him as you were lost in your thoughts. That was the last straw, you mumbled out the answer, knowing it was incorrect but not wanting to test his patience anymore. "L-look, I don't think I can do this anymore," you whimpered, and that made Riddle stop. His eyes widened, he realized what he just did. He yelled, yelled at you out of all people. He was acting like his mother, the person whom he despised so much yet ended up becoming a reflection of in this moment. "Y/n, I didn't mean to shout like that, I'm so sorry," his voice softened, he quickly went to you to take you in his arms. But you were limp, your eyes glistened with tears. While no words left your mouth, the small drops that fell onto your notebook was enough for him to understand the horrible mistake he had done.

Vil

A perfectionist at heart, he didn't let anyone escape his scrutiny. Even you, whom he always praised as being perfect in heart and body. He didn't care if you didn't have his exact look, as long as you were confident in your fashion choices he loved it. But this time, he wasn't feeling too much like himself, he had seen too many manager texts in a day, a lot of stressful classes, and now you were doing everything but taking care of yourself. You were up late studying for a test, causing not only physical health problems but also mental health problems. He wanted to tell you kindly to stop but he didn't have the energy. Grabbing your books, he snapped at you. "Get to bed, what are you trying to do sabotage yourself? I thought we went over this last week, how quickly do you dispose of my advice?" What he didn't realize was that you weren't doing that well either. You were sick, you were stressed, you were getting over a lot of hardships about being literally teleported away from home. This was the last thing you wanted to go through, and all you could do at that moment was..."Y/n? Are you crying?" Vil reached his hand to your face, lifting it up so he could see you. You tried to look away, but the tears slid down your cheeks and you made a small whimper. "I'm sorry, I don't want to cause trouble but...it's been a hard week," you try to explain. You think Vil would scold you, but instead, he looks at you with wide eyes, almost a look of fear. "No, I should be the one to apologize, it was rude of me to act this way," he wrapped his arms around you. He let you cry on his shoulder, tell him everything you wanted to tell him. Vil wouldn't let you bundle up your emotions anymore.

Azul

Azul didn't have anything against you, but he was quick to make grudges. He could cling onto random actions or phrases people said to use against them when he needed. It just so happened to be one of those cases. You were already in a tense environment with him. He didn't speak to you for a few days, and you were busy dealing with homesickness along with all of Ramshackle's issues. He casually had to bring up how you weren't helping him at the lounge, nor were you checking up on him as you usually did. What a selfish dorm leader, but you didn't have the energy to fight back. "Look, I'm just saying that as long as you're here, and Crowley remains as the headmaster, you won't be going home. Might as well toss that out the window," he said as he walked back into his office, leaving you in the lounge to clean the bar by yourself. This was the last straw for you, the one thing, the one hope you had was home and he had to jab at it. You tried to calm yourself down, but the tears just started. Soon, you were wiping the glassware while letting the tears fall all over the counter. Azul wouldn't have heard you because he usually listens to music as he's in his study, but this time he left the door open to see what you would do. Hearing slight whimpers and sniffles caused him to jump out the door, a worried and panicked look on his face. There was no way he just said something that hurt you, no he was better than those kinds of people. He went through hurtful words, he shouldn't be repeating that! "Darling, is something wrong? Was it something I said?" he asked, carefully approaching you. "Ah, it's nothing," you shook your head, trying to hide it but he wrapped his arms around you. "No, no it's absolutely something I should know. It was what I said wasn't it?" this caused you to cry harder. He started to feel tears himself. As he told you how sorry he was, he wiped your tears away and told himself he would never throw words at you.

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merakiui · 7 months

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could you tell us some of these ideas you have for malleus?

There are far too many thoughts... orz here are just a few that I have recently had.

✧ sleep paralysis demon malleus.

✧ a story in which you live at the edge of a forest that's slowly creeping closer and beginning to invade your property. and standing at the edge of the forest, unable to cross over, is a horned stranger dressed in a cloak of brambles. you try to voice your concerns to friends, but they won't believe you. you've been having trouble sleeping lately and you're starting to neglect your mental health, but you know you're not crazy. by the end of the month, you're certain the forest will swallow your quaint home whole. your only option to prevent that? investigate what it is the horned stranger could possibly want.

✧ phantom of the opera au with malleus as the phantom.

✧ idol group with malleus, idia, and azul and you're their manager. or maybe you're the fourth member being added to their ensemble. or maybe you're just a fan hehe. <3 either way, malleus is so whipped for you.

✧ this isn't exactly a malleus-centered thought, but you and sebek bond over your mutual admiration for malleus. you wish to get closer to malleus (because you love him) and sebek completely understands your desire to do so. who wouldn't want to associate themselves with someone as great as waka-sama!!!!!! but in helping you with this, sebek starts to grow romantically attached. he thinks he's dying because no ailment has ever made his heart beat this fast before. T_T malleus is distantly connected to this; essentially, cute love story between you and sebek. :D

✧ your kingdom and malleus's are at war and, in the midst of defeat, you're taken as a prisoner of war and forced to bear malleus's heir. <3 or you're simply forced into an arranged marriage. malleus wants to marry his enemy much to the utter shock of the kingdom, but no one will go against what their king wishes and so you are a captive spouse.

✧ befriending the kind dragon fae boy when you were young and offhandedly mentioning that you'd marry him when you were older. many years pass, the both of you grow and mature, and you've moved to another city to pursue work. one day, you receive a knock at your apartment door. standing there is the dragon fae with a ring and an entire royal entourage behind him. did you not remember the promise you made all that time ago? D: you're going to be wed now!

✧ king rollo and king malleus are at war and you're the poor royal stuck between them, as your kingdom is between both of theirs on the maps. orz and both of them want you to side with them, for they're both hopelessly infatuated with you. for extra drama: the three of you were inseparable childhood friends. >:)

✧ classic somnophilia thoughts. knocking you up while you're in deep sleep. malleus trapping you in a dream that feels like reality, in which you live a happy, domestic life with him. or being stuck in a strange dreamy time loop that you're desperate to break and get out of, but malleus is intent on keeping you here forever.

✧ classic fairytale scenario where you're sent to slay the dragon, but he slays you instead (by spearing you on his cocks!!!! <3).

✧ isekai manhwa sort of plot in which you wake as malleus's maid/advisor/spouse/guard, but according to the plot of the story you're fated to die at his hands because your character ultimately betrays him/does something that warrants death (or maybe you simply die because he threw a fit and you got caught in the raging crossfire). to change this destiny, you make it your mission to get on friendly, happy terms with him. unfortunately, you only give him more reasons to love you even more than he had before and so now you may have avoided death, but you can't escape the stifling obsession.

#twisted chit chat #i was listening to 'make a wish' again and malleus... woooo his voice is so 😵‍💫 malleus fans i completely understand your love for him #but also azul did not have to go so hard with the emphasis on 'ai' in 'ai no sukui o'#like... 🤨 azul why do you sound so yearning when you draw out the syllable???#he's rizzing me up through song orz #all of them are T^T

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