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#i chose death as that was a great part of me for so long

spenglernot · 7 months

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STORIES TELLING: NED LOWE AND THE DEATH OF POOR REPRESENTATION IN OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

In history, Ned Lowe was one of the most sadistic and violent pirates in the early 18th century, so he’s an obvious choice for a villain for season 2, episode 6 – Calypso’s Birthday. What is interesting is what the OFMD writers chose to do with him.

Lowe announces himself to the crew of the Revenge with great fanfare (cannon ball attack) and gets right to the point.

Ed is thoroughly unimpressed.

Cut to Ed and Stede tied up while Ned attempts to set the mood so he can monologue about why he wants to kill Ed.

Ed knows what’s coming. He is going to suffer but he still can’t be arsed to meet Ned with anything but vaguely bored dismissiveness (and Stede is happy to play along).

Up on the deck, Ned prepares the crew for his big, dramatic moment of symphonic torture.

Note that the Revenge crew is tied down, braced by vices and generally unable to protect themselves from imminent torture and possible death, but their spirits are up. They don’t seem terribly fussed.

Then Stede uses his people positive management style to happily orchestrate a worker uprising in Ned’s crew.

Ned’s crew responds instantly; severing their allegiance to Lowe and telling him off.

The crew sails away and talks profit sharing while Ned dully threatens to hunt them down.

Ned is now a prisoner of the Revenge crew and seems entirely disinterested in his own survival.

And Ned sinks to the depths, without struggling at all.

There is a lot going on in this episode: pay and labor equity direct action, gay love engagement bliss, kink humor, Stede being a hero and saving his crew by playing to his strengths, then having to decide whether to kill in cold blood and feel the consequences of that choice. Ed having one more reason to be done with piracy (while being so impressed with and fond of Stede), and then watching his man make a fraught choice and having to deal with the fallout from that. (And, damn, I haven’t even mentioned the passionate sex bit.) Anyway, back to the point.

Now for the the meta part

The Ned Lowe sequences are perfectly in keeping with OFMD’s signature blend of madcap violence, humor, and big emotional gut punches. But something about Ned Lowe just strikes me as off for this show.

Ned is seriously threatening the crews’ lives, so why don’t they take him seriously?

Why does Ned have such a boring, throwaway backstory?

Why is Ned so nonchalant about his own death; like it’s a foregone conclusion?

Why does Ned have a silver violin and silver spurs on his slip-on dress shoes?

Why is Ned sartorially monochromatic?

And then I realized who Ned reminds me of.

This guy,

Earnst Stavro Blofeld in the James Bond film Diamonds are Forever (1971)

And this guy,

Scar in Disney's The Lion King (1994).

And this guy,

Xerxes, 300 (2006).

And it sure seems like Ned Lowe isn’t just an episodic villain. He is an archetype of the one-dimensional, stereotypical queer-coded villain that has been endemic in film and television throughout history. The OFMD writers have a lot to say about what to do with this kind of character:

Don’t respect him.

Feel free to openly mock him.

Don’t let him take your joy, even though he will hurt you.

He won’t disappear on his own. You have to throw something at him (take action) to make him go away.

Once he’s in the water, he’s content to drown. He’s not into what he’s doing any more than you are.

Oh and, just to be clear,

The LGBTQIA+ community has a very long history of turning shit media into better stories. So, hey, big media, prepare to have your crap characters wrecked (improved).

Now, back to our transformative pirate show with rich, complex queer characters and a multi-layered plot that surprises me every week and makes me feel big feelings - most of all, joy.

Final thought: I do wonder if Ned Lowe is monochromatically silver as a tribute to/poke at, Hollywood and the silver screen.

This meta was written before OFMD season 2 has fully aired. No idea what’s going to happen in the finale (and I’ve generally fled social media to avoid spoilers). I’ll be back, looking at everyone’s fascinating posts after episode 8 airs.

722 notes · View notes

chimcess · 3 months

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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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bookofbonbon · 4 months

Text

all a lie - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Warnings: Abusive relationship. Death. Descriptions of dead person. Spoilers for TBOSBAS.

Summary: Your relationship with Coriolanus Snow was all a lie.

Word Count: 1k+.

A/N: Sad girl hours. I found the angst fic. I HAD TO THROW IN THE DESTIEL LINE HAHAH (please tell me if you catch it - it's very obvious lmao).

Your engagement to Coriolanus Snow was an arranged one. It was no secret. Everyone in Panem knew. History would report that it was a pre-arrangement between best friends and co-creators of The Hunger Games, Crassus Snow and Casca Highbottom.

Details would emerge how when Crassus Snow’s wife birthed a son and Casca Highbottom's wife a daughter, the pair of bestfriends wanted to join their families; intertwining two of Panem’s most influential families for an eternity.

Feature after feature of the upcoming wedding would be written and published; networks broadcasting far and wide for all to see. It was of course, a bonus that the couple were also in love.

The headlines would call it things like fate and true love, and the people of Panem would fall head over heels for it.

It was all a lie of course. A lie conceived by Coriolanus Snow. The arrangement, the engagement, being in love. None of it was real.

“I chose her also because I hate her,” you’d overheard him one day. A long pause; the drawn out silence broken only by the sound of his haughty laughter. You could hear the smugness in his voice. “She’s perfect.”

None would know that the arrangement itself was false but you were constantly reminded by those who were privy to the true nature of your relationship with him that you should be grateful. How lucky you were that the noble Coriolanus Snow would honour the wishes of his great father for you after the shame your own brought.

“You should be thanking me,” Coriolanus hissed, face close to yours and his grip tightening around your arm. “Your father damned you. If it weren’t for me, if I didn’t come up with this arrangement for you, you’d be nothing. I saved you. I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

The hardest part was that you were starting to believe it too. Reality and make-believe blurring into one - it was becoming increasingly more difficult to discern what was real from what was not; unsure of right from left, up from down. Everything snatched away from you in a moment's notice and you should be grateful. Everyone in Panem is happy for you but, you.

But, Coriolanus lied about the engagement, he was probably lying about that too.

Of course, it hadn’t always been this way. There was a time that existed when the two of you were friends, genuinely. Your father’s were friends, the very best and so were the two of you - you think.

In hindsight, you wondered if the downfall was inevitable, given the history; something broke down somewhere, your father’s weren’t particularly cordial in their later years. You had never thought that it would affect the two of you as well but, pinpointing when your own friendship with Coriolanus shifted into other was easy - the beginning of your mentorships for The 10th Annual Hunger Games and over the course of the next two months following that until it was dead… along with you father.

You groan, loudly and keel forward.

You press your free hand to your forehead but it doesn’t stop the barrage of images of your father’s lifeless body from coming to mind; slumped over his desk, nose bloody, face blue and a blank stare.

A journal would later be found amongst his belongings when Dr. Gaul and Coriolanus volunteered to clear out his things from the academy; a journal full of the ramblings of a mad, drug-addled man, that damned your father all to hell as a rebel. You were sure it wasn’t his - you couldn’t prove that it wasn’t.

But one thing that you were certain of in all of that, was that there was only one common denominator - Coriolanus Snow.

You try not to think about how his resentment for your father grew tenfold between reaping day and your father’s last, festering into something rotten. How this entire arrangement was likely revenge so, he would have you, Casca Highbottom’s daughter under his thumb and locked in his cage for the rest of your life to make up for the years of your father’s torment.

The newspapers would report The Revered Dean Casca Highbottom Succumbs to Morphling Addiction, despite the toxicology report finding traces of rat poison in his system; despite your father divulging that Lucy Gray used rat poison to win, smuggled in by Coriolanus Snow; despite you seeing Coriolanus Snow leaving your father’s classroom just moments before you found his body.

“Snow lands on top.” you’d watch him taunt your father’s grave on the day your engagement was announced.

Coriolanus Snow was never really your friend.

You think you might be sick.

You remind yourself it’s all hearsay and speculation, the official reports read accidental overdose and you’d push that small voice that told you otherwise further and further into the darkest crevices of your mind because Coriolanus Snow saved you.

“Darling,” Coriolanus calls, voice mechanical.

You remain seated with your hand pressed to your forehead for a few seconds longer until it clicks - he’s talking to you.

Hand sliding down your face, the band of your engagement ring is cool against your warm skin. Your elbow digs into your thigh as you rest your chin on your palm and look up at him with what you hope appear to be sober eyes and as best of a smile as you could muster, given your current state.

“The Vickers and Creeds are about to leave, we will see them out.”

Not a question but a command as he holds his hand out stoically for you to take; eyes swimming with restrained rage - had they always been so cold? Perhaps or perhaps not - not that you particularly cared at the moment, you just wanted everyone to leave.

If you could’ve, you yourself would’ve left the party a long time ago - a luxury unfortunately, not afforded to guests of honour. Not that you felt like a guest of honour. Quite frankly, nursing a migraine in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other whilst avoiding your guests for the duration of the night was not at all how you imagined your own engagement party to be but, that was exactly how it was.

There’s a familiar burning sensation in your nose, a prickling at the back of your eyes, the feeling of something stuck in your throat.

You hiccup and something akin to concern flashes in Coriolanus’s eyes but it's gone as quickly as it came - you were probably imagining it.

“Put the glass of champagne down,” he tells you and you do.

You want to laugh- or maybe cry but, instead you take his hand, intertwine your fingers, hold his hand loosely and your jaw tightly and let him lead the way.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coriolanus x you

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kaixserzz · 7 months

Text

eons adrift ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ wanderer x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎐 ꒱ "i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me." "that's not possible, you and i both know that." "watch me!"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cw: character analysis-ish, mildly proofread, drabble but it's kinda messy, its more like an idea than a fic LOLLL im sorry, hurt/comfort

scaramouche took you for a naive fool, just as he was when oh so stupidly believed those words as kunikuzushi.

you are but a human. a mere breath of his everlasting eternity. a few hundreds of years and he would forget everything about you.

insignificant, you humans were.

frail.

vulnerable.

so so easy to break.

as he walked into the path of darkness; consuming him and turning him into someone he doesn't recognize in the mirror no longer—kabukimono, kunikuzushi, the love of your life, was long gone. memories like the leaves that turn yellow and crumble to ashes as winter approaches.

yet the winter will remain in his empty chest for as long as he walks teyvat. churning into a blizzard of ice cold pain, destroying everything around him as it grows. he continues to walk this wretched path he chose.

but then he met someone, rekindling the spark that was once there beneath his porcelain skin. trying to light up a burn out wick, to bring an end to his winter and bring forth the beautiful spring he was once.

scaramouche never thought he'd love again.

even after all through the pain he went from the doctor's experiments, after roaming the great expanse of the abyss, after becoming the balladeer, the 6th of the fatui harbingers, he still felt.

love.

happiness.

pain.

sorrow.

and regret.

he hates it, but he loves them, just as much as he loved you.

though he allowed someone new worm their way into his heart, he kept them in arm's reach. he cannot bear to be vulnerable to someone else. they were human, they were to die; he is a puppet, he is meant to live on forever.

but then he heard them say things only you would say. giving him lavender melons you bought off the market, accidentally calling him names only you would know.

he remember that promise you made him before you died.

"i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me."

scaramouche did not understand what he felt when he realized that his new lover, was in fact, just a reincarnation of you. and just like that, your name burns back itself into his mind—a name he thought he had erased into obscurity, along with his past.

he was a fool, scaramouche thought. he laughed at himself, a laugh void of humor, nor joy.

it was your name, your first incarnation, just in a different language.

it appears that scaramouche didn't like this feeling. of bitter butterflies in his stomach, the familiarity when you try to get close to him, the same smile you had, the light full of love in your eyes—it was all too much for him.

so he left you in the snow of his ever growing blizzard. buried under the thick layers of freezing ice.

and again, to your next reincarnation. a fatui, a vendor, an adventurer, a knight, a scholar—male, female, neither, or all of them; tall, short, plump, slim, dark or light skinned,

he cannot bear to lose you just as he first did.

slipping by his fingers, to the one thing he is not affected by.

death.

he doesn't accept the fact that your love has led you back to him, again and again.

why do you even keep coming back? don't you know he's part of the fatui? don't you know what he has done? don't you know what he has become?

and yet you'd knock on his door, calling his name with your voice full of warmth, arms wide for him to take and allow himself to be called yours again—all he had to do was open the door.

he has kept a lock on it ever since he met you again.

worn down and rotten; chains all rusted, handle jammed and barely working. he approaches the door once again. this time, as wanderer. a better version of himself,

one that's finally willing to open the door to you.

but you weren't there anymore, waiting for him on the other side.

how could you? you were never there in the first place.

not with this version of himself.

not as the wanderer.

and maybe that was for the best. even though he cries himself to sleep at night for all the things he has done to you. weeping, as he curls onto the sheets, praying to the stars above in hopes you'd hear his heartbroken apologies, yearning for your love, your touch, your smiles—

this was his punishment for hurting you, for being a fool. he was underserving of your love, after all.

"hey, wanderer, was it?"

a new voice, someone unfamiliar. he refrained from sighing, for buer's sake, and instead took a deep, refreshing breath. he turns, and the stranger smiles brightly at him.

immediately, as if the winds of spring has hit him all so suddenly in the face. the fragrance of blooming flowers that was once buried under the snow, the sun shining brightly in the skies, and birds chirping symphonies.

like the mornings brimming with new found hope, the smell of dew sticking onto his clothes as he trace his fingers all over the a tree's trunk. like the the juices of a fruit he sank his teeth into, dribbling down the corners of his lips and down his arms.

warmth tingled on his skin, and his heart leaps.

"nice to meet you!" you say your name, a name he has heard hundreds of versions before, all so different and yet they all felt and tasted like honey dripping down his tongue. "i hope we get along."

"yeah," he says, almost breathless, as the tears begins to well in his eyes. his fingers tremble, and his smile grew wobbly. tipping his hat down to avoid your gaze, his voice cracks. "i hope so too."

his door was wide open, waiting for you come in.

you grin, and take a step inside.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

author's note: "i thought this was a dottore only blog? SHUT UP!!!!! SHUT UP!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM MAD AT MYSELF TOO BUT THIS IS FOR @fatuismooches also new format because im too lazy to open my files :/ not back yet, i just wanna write this for the pookie 💗💗 ty for listening to me ramble like a madman ur single handedly gettin me thru it ong LMAOOO /lh

#favoniuslibrary #˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚#╰┈➤ wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genhin impact #scaramouche x reader #listening to mitski's new album to this #this is like #so so bad but bear with me #i dont feel well ok 😭😭#idea came to me while im in the shower

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n3ptoonz · 4 months

Note

Okay but like the whole save a horse ride a cowboy thing… for Arthur?

'Snake on a Train'

THANKS FOR 300+!!🖤🖤❤️❤️

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/F!Reader

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption II

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, i'm writing this like i'm from the old west bear with me it's really fun, post chapter 6 MEANING he's alive and DOES NOT have TB. never caught it. we live in delusion round these parts. dialogue driven y'all know me i love me some interaction, implied breeding knk, cowgirl, barely proofread writers block is fucking me up

fr tho read this in a southern accent shit is kinda funny i had way too much fun LMAO

i got so many arthur requests then realized i used THIS theme so i'm using this ask i hope those who sent in will find this!!

Word count: 2300

Explicit content under the cut

Never trust a "runaway" O'Driscoll ever again. You was on the run now, away from those freaks and needed a proper escape at least for the time being. Why you chose to not accept Arthur's offer of joining the gang was beyond you. You knew each other well in Blackwater before they had to leave, he suggested you join since you'd be a great addition and trustworthy, but you declined. Later on you were picked up by a "runaway", he sold you out and now you're high tailing it to the nearest escape.

You stumbled across a particularly high end looking train that looked like it was headed west--aka opposite way from this shit. Your initial intent wasn't to rob it, yet. You just needed a quick getaway from this madness. Quick and sneaky you were getting into the back past a few guards. You found an abandoned ticket under a seat and stuffed it in your pocket, walking around until you found an empty cart that looked quite fancy.

You kept your head on a swivel and constantly looked out the window for any suspicious activities when somebody barged in. You quickly stood up and drew your revolver when you realized who you laid your eyes on.

"...Arthur?" you said. His eyes adjusted from the sun reflecting off the window when he heard his name escape from your lips, recognizing your voice almost immediately.

"What are you doin' here?" you both inquired in unison.

"Put your damn gun down I ain't here to rob you." he said sitting down on one of the two seat chairs covered in leather. You slid it back into the holster with curious eyes still on him. Just how long had it been? Why was he here?

"You normally waltz into carts that aren't yours?"

"Ain't that what you did?"

...he had a point.

"Maybe, but I had a reason."

"You sayin' I'd hop onto a nearby train for no reason?"

"I ain't seen or heard from you in almost a decade, Arthur. I don't know what I know anymore. Where's the rest of Blackwater's finest?"

Arthur just leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There was a deadpan look in his eyes as he recalled everything that went down in the last two weeks. All the betrayals and chaos started to montage in his mind all over again; how he was this close to death, but managed to escape somehow.

"Dead, on their own, or all the above. Remember John? I helped him and his folks get out. The others...well I don't rightly know where they are. And quite frankly I don't care."

You sat in front of him as you processed his words. What's understood don't need to be said, and you knew this well.

"Is that why you're here?" you asked. It felt like a question with an obvious answer but you honestly just wanted a confirmation. It wasn't like him to just run off, at least from when you last seen him.

"In so many words, I guess. Although I didn't expect to see a woman of your caliber running away from your bullshit either. I'd like to know too, if you don't mind."

"Oh hush that up." you waved his comment off dismissively, "I was sold out."

"Well I'll be. You know I always wondered what you were doing or who you decided to hang with if not us. Who in their right mind would sell out one of Blackwater's most wanted?"

In your time together you always had a playful relationship, but you could tell in his tone there was slight bitterness or sarcasm. Truth be told he started to feel some type of way when he realized you declined him just to end up with some other gang that clearly didn't give a damn about you.

"Watch yourself." you warned, your tone half serious half playful.

"What? You didn't want to be around folk who had your best interest that's fine. I won't say I told you so."

"When the hell did you tell me so?"

"The day before we left." he answered without hesitation. "The night we spent together? Ring any bells?"

Damn. You tried to forget that night since the day he had to leave and you too shortly after. You didn't want to remember all the fun you had. You didn't want to remember his hearty laugh at your stupid jokes. Hell...you didn't even want to remember just how good he treated you. He treated you like a lady, unlike most of the men you came across. All it took was one heated kiss, and you both were hooked. But also knew it couldn't be given both your circumstances.

When he offered for you to join you wanted to jump at the opportunity. So why didn't you? Because, well, you loved the man. You thought your own feelings would hinder the morale of the group somehow and break it apart, and you wouldn't dare that be on you. Plus you couldn't really tell where he stood. He's a guy who treated most people with respect despite how he grew up.

Back then he mentioned how people like them were hard to come by and that most gangs were either just downright pieces of shit or cultish. So he in fact did tell you so, and you tried to forget that as soon as possible. Didn't want any sort of thoughts of him clouding your mind or else you'd go crazy.

The only reason you two didn't get intimate that night is because he respected you and your boundaries. He still does. He didn't want it to feel like he was grasping on to the nearest thing to fuck with and then dip. That's not the kind of man he was nor will he ever be.

"What does that night have to do with why I'm here now?" you tried so hard to seem like it didn't completely take over your thoughts, but this is Arthur Morgan for christ sake. He's damn good at reading people.

"It can mean just about anything, sweetheart, but I know it meant something to you just as much as it did to me." he said. The tone of his voice sounded a bit like he was trying to convince himself that was the case. If it wasn't, he wouldn't know what to do.

You sat back in your seat but that didn't take away the feeling of his gaze pouring into your soul. "It did." you said looking down at your hands

"Then why decline? Was it me? I know it's not my lifestyle because we lived the same way."

"I didn't want to get in the way, alright? I knew you'd be gone often and would be out for days at a time while I worried if you'd come back in one piece. I've been there and done that. Wasn't doing that again."

Arthur leaned back up in his seat and ran his hand over his face, sighing. He didn't want to come off so strong, but he felt real feelings for you and didn't know how to process it properly. The woman who's been on his mind since the day the gang left Blackwater sat in front of him and he felt like a lost puppy all over again.

"Okay." he said softly, "Was I on your mind at all?" he continued looking down, mumbling under his breath but you still heard him.

"Everyday since." you said standing up. He slowly looked up at you with those pearly blues that never failed to capture you. He was just so relieved that it wasn't just him. That it wasn't one-sided. Grabbing his hand you pulled him up to meet your eyes--like he wasn't visibly looking down at you.

"I thought about you so damn much I guess I had to distract myself by running with some undercover O'Driscolls. I figured out who they was too late and voila, lawmen breaking down my door."

Arthur shortly chuckled upon hearing you explain more of your situation. To him it was unbelievable, and he never thought he'd hear that name ever again especially after seeing Colm swing.

"This evening is full of surprises. How do I know this isn't some big scheme to take me down once and for all?" he said while wrapping his arms snug around your waist and his voice grew more rugged and deep. Oh how he missed this. What this is, who knows, and who cares?

"I don't need some big scheme to take you down." you said placing your hands on his biceps, squeezing just a little bit. He smirked at this action and pulled you closer.

"That so?"

You hummed in agreement, and it didn't take long for you two to finally lock lips together after a bit of playful murmuring here and there. And just like that, you both were taken back to that night. That heated kiss you shared was the absolute highlight of your lives, and you intended to relive that again and more.

It's like you never left but kissed like it's been forever. He ran his cold palm up your back to hold you while the other unbuttoned your pants. Even after almost ten years, he didn't miss a beat. He still got it. Are we surprised? You followed his lead and kept one arm around his neck while the other attempted to pull him free.

His hands were quick and nimble like yours, so next thing you know your pants are on the ground and you're sitting comfortably in his lap. You was now clad in a loose collar shirt and underwear and his shirt remained unbuttoned at the collar. Your mouths never stopped dancing throughout this whole process too.

Arthur just kept groaning into your mouth at every subtle grind on his thigh. This was only the second time of you two getting together like this, yet it feels way more than that. That same drunk feeling from the night made its return and wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

You pulled back so you both could catch your breath, holding his face and running your thumbs over his stubble that was soon to becoming a full beard.

"I missed you...so damn much." you said in a tone just above a whisper.

"I can't imagine more than I have..." he replied while toying with the hem of your underwear. "Would you give this old outlaw the honor of... having you? All to myself?" he asked, looking deep into your eyes. You could feel him fully hard and his hands trembling a bit, but he still wants to hear it from you. One part is confirmation, but the other? He would easily gain satisfaction from knowing you want to give yourself to him.

"Well...I've saved a horse...and I plan on riding a cowboy," you whispered and smiled against his lips before leaning back in. Arthur chuckled into the kiss, wasting zero time pulling them panties to the side and slide right on in.

Your breath hitched as you eased on down his thick shaft. "That's my girl." he whispered, right next to your ear so he could physically feel you clench against him from his praises. You gripped his shoulders as your eyes closed shut, expelling light whimpers here and there as you set a place. He placed his hand on your back once again to encourage you, feeling a little smug at your struggle to keep up.

Best believe you weren't no bitch though; you swallowed thickly and kept on riding him. The ambience of the train was quickly fading as you two became lost in your own desire.

Were you expecting your orgasm to approach so quickly? Honestly, it made sense. Arthur knew all the right things to say and touched all the right places that churn your butter.

He was also nearing the end, and yet he had such a genuine smile on his face. He grunted with every time you sank back down into his lap and this meant he simply could not be happier. He's been dreaming of this moment forever, and finally. Finally, the woman of his dreams is having the time of her life because of him.

To keep yourself grounded you pulled his head up to rest your forehead on his, "Please, cum inside me," you begged. Your climax was seconds away from hitting you and you wanted to reach bliss at the same time.

You ain't have to tell him even once with how quickly he followed suit. Your hips slammed right back down into his lap as you both tried to stifle your cries of pleasure, still mindful of other passengers.

After you both calmed down in each other's arms, you cleaned yourselves up and plopped back down onto the two person couch you had just gotten intimate on. You held his bicep and laid your head on his shoulder with a content smile on your face. His the very same.

"You sure know how to get down for someone I ain't seen in a long time." he said playfully, looking down at you.

"Who said I ain't got none in a long time?" you replied a little too fast for his liking, looking up and seeing his expression comedically fall to a straight one. "I'm just messing, I wouldn't dare risk having anybody else's kids but yours." you continued casually before shutting your eyes. You had to stop yourself from laughing at the sound of his heart rate getting faster through his chest.

He chuckled, looking out the window at the scenery become painted with the pinks and yellows of the sunset passing by.

"You are something else."

#n3ptoonz #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption arthur #rdr2 smut #smut

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

Text

Another Lie || CL16 {5} - Charles' Ending

Warnings: 18+ only, fluff, if you don’t want a Charles happy ending look away now and wait for the Max alternative! WC: 2.8k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Charles) || Five (Max) || 5.1 blurb request

It was strange to be back after so long. It was strange to see that the Principality hadn’t changed at all. Upon reflection, the only difference was that you had.

The gravel path crunched under your ballet flats as you followed the winding track to the lookout and found him sitting upon the wall looking out over his homeland.

“Is this seat taken?”

Charles nearly fell off his perch with how fast he turned and you placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he righted himself.

“What…?” he trailed off in confusion as he stared at you in disbelief.

Thanks to Instagram you had seen how his face had sharpened with age, heard how his voice had deepened too. And, from what interviews you had watched, even his thoughts and opinions had matured in recent times.

But he hadn’t seen the difference three years had made to you. You were never one to publicise your life and your Instagram was mostly used to keep up with other peoples life rather than display your own. He knew because he still checked.

“Your mum called.” He was still staring as you climbed the wall and took a seat beside him. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years.”

When Pascale had invited you to the anniversary of Hervé’s death she had assured you that Charles was aware and fine with it but given how shocked he still was at your arrival that didn’t appear to be true.

“Where’s Jules?” you asked, trying to get him to say something other than stare as you picked at the loose stones on the wall.

A smile curled his lips at the mention of his son before it lost some of its brilliance. “It’s Sapphire’s week with him. Wait, my mum has your number?”

“We’ve kept in touch over the years,” you admitted with a shrug. She had never forgotten your birthday and always wished you a Merry Christmas. “When she said you weren’t answering your phone I figured you’d be up here.”

“I just needed to clear my head for a bit,” he murmured as he peeled his eyes away from you and returned to watching the sun reflect on the picturesque Côte d’Azur. “With the custody battle, the busy race schedule and dad’s anniversary, it all got a little loud in here.” He tapped a ringed finger to his head and sighed. “I’m thinking about retiring.”

The stone in your fingers slipped and tumbled down your leg and into your shoe, irritating your foot as you tried to kick it back out. With a chuckle, Charles dropped off the wall and pulled your shoe off, flicking the stone out before slipping it back on.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you still tried to process the information he had dumped on you. “Why would you retire? You’ve been doing great!”

He didn’t return to his seat beside you, instead he tipped his head back and closed his eyes as the sun warmed his face. “There’s something more important to me than winning now. I only get to see Jules every second week, and there’s 28 race weekends this year. There’s just not enough time to race and be the father I want to be for him, the one he deserves.”

When he opened his eyes you could already see the decision had been made, whether he knew it or not.

“At least you can retire knowing you kept your promise,” you said as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. “You always swore you’d win a championship with Ferrari, even when no one else thought it was possible.”

His lips parted with a laugh as he kicked the rocks with his sneakers. “Wasn’t easy.”

“Nothing good is. But all that hard work and you never put the #1 on your livery…why?”

He shrugged and buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I chose my number for a reason.”

He could have chosen sixteen for a number of reasons but he always said it was because your anniversary was the 16th of January, you first met in 2016 and one plus six equals seven - his lucky number. He was always looking for patterns in everyday things, he couldn’t help it.

Your phone vibrated again with a reminder you hadn’t opened the message and you saw Pascale’s name, asking if you had found him. You quickly replied that you had and shoved it back in your pocket before hopping off the wall.

“Come on, your mum’s probably worrying we’ll be late as usual and you’re my ride off this mountain.”

“We?” he asked as he cocked an eyebrow up. “I was always ready on time, you were the one who made us late for everything.”

“That’s not how I see it, because as the driver, it’s your responsibility to get us to the destination on time.”

It was effortless how easy the lighthearted teasing came without any of the biting remarks or bitter sarcasm that had tainted those last months of your relationship. This was, dare you say it, nice. You only hoped it could last because you had missed his friendship most of all.

“How did you get here?” Charles asked when he looked around the carpark, only spotting a few older model cars alongside the latest Ferrari Purosangue.

“Arthur dropped me off after he picked me up from the airport.” You slipped into the luxury SUV and pouted as the engine started far quieter than the Pista. “Where’s my baby?”

“Gathering dust most of the time.” He nodded his head to the backseat and you looked over your shoulder. “She doesn’t fit a carseat.”

“Of course, that makes sense.” You shook your head with a small laugh. “I can’t believe how practical you are now.”

“Having Jules changed me. The first time I held him, it was like everything came into focus, you know? I realised if I carried on like I was then he was going to see that behaviour as being okay, and it wasn’t okay.” He glanced across the car making eye contact with you. “I’m trying to be a better man, one he can be proud to call dad.”

Hervé would have been proud to see his family, smiles on their faces as they sat around the tables that had been pushed together to accommodate everyone, celebrating the life he had.

Lorenzo’s family had grown by two and the toddlers were full of energy as they chased each other around the table; Arthur’s wife, Carla, also had one bundle of joy on the way; and Pascale looked at all of her sons with radiating pride. You almost shed a tear as you sat down for the family dinner after visiting Hervé’s memorial, the love and warmth that filled the Leclerc’s family home felt like the missing piece you hadn’t been able to find on all your travels.

“You okay?” Charles asked as he filled your glass up with the sweet lemonade Pascale had made for her grandchildren.

“For god sake, Charles, offer the woman a proper drink,” Pascale said as she passed a bottle of red wine down the table.

“It’s okay, I don’t drink anymore,” you said as you passed it on to Lorenzo before returning your attention to Charles. “Do you still do this every month?”

He faked annoyance as he nodded but you could see how happy he was surrounded by his family. “Normally it would be when I have Jules but with the race calendar this month it just didn’t work out.”

The sun was beginning to set as you finished washing the last dish and passed it over to Charles to dry. From the living room you could hear Pascale reading to the children while their parents cleaned up the mess they had made and out on the back porch you could see Arthur and Carla sharing a moment as they watched the red sunset together.

“I miss this,” you whispered before realising it had been aloud and Charles had heard.

“Me too,” he sighed and stacked the plate in the cupboard. “How long are you staying?”

“Three days.”

His brows furrowed into a deep frown. “Is that all?”

“I do have a life,” you teased as you stole the dish towel from his shoulder to dry your hands.

“Does that include a boyfriend?”

The laughter faded and you shook your head. “No, there’s no one else.”

His eyes traced your lips and when you saw his tongue roll across his own you stepped back and swatted his arm with the damp towel. “Cut it out, Charles.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he lied through his cheeky smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed your handbag from the kitchen side. “I’m going to go now because this has been a really nice evening and I want to keep it that way.”

He swiped his car keys up just as quickly. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“My hotel is only a few blocks away.”

“Then let me walk you, please? These streets aren’t as safe as they used to be. I’ve been mugged twice.”

“Then why would I want a walking target next to me?”

“Shit,” he chewed his lip at his flawed argument and sighed. “Please? I’ll walk you to your door and that’s as far as I’ll go.”

He held his breath as you debated the offer before lifting your hand up, pinky raised. “To the door and no funny business.”

He linked your fingers and shook on it. “Pinky promise.”

It was almost midnight by the time you reached your door. The classic cinema along the way was playing a double feature of Humphrey Bogart and when Charles saw Casablanca was about to start he had hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and led the way inside. His smile dared you to argue but you had come to enjoy the black and white film whenever he had watched it.

Hervé had loved to torture his sons by making them sit and watch the film at least five times a year as a family. You had only been there to witness it twice but it was clear despite the feeble grumbles they all had come to love it too, especially when Charles whispered the lines to you under his breath.

When the lights had gone down in the theatre you had felt the heat of Charles’ arm as it shared the rest with yours between the seats. The projector flickered to life and the speakers crackled as the film began and you were thrown back in time.

You were immersed in the story when your hand was taken, the touch taking a moment to be noticed, and you looked down at your fingers laced between his before following the line of his sleeve until you reached his face.

His eyes were focused on you, and a sad smile played on his lips as he mouthed Rick’s line, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

By the end of the second feature you were hardly seeing what was on the screen. You could have left after Casablanca finished but there was a silent agreement that neither of you wanted the night to end. So you had remained in the dark room as most of the other patrons left and To Have and Have Not started, your hands still entwined on the arm rest.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” Charles asked as you stepped inside your hotel room and he stopped at the threshold, leaning against the frame with your hand still holding his.

You bit your lip to hide the smile that appeared. “If I do?”

“Cancel them.”

“Ohh, sorry, I can’t…I have a lunch date with the prettiest Leclerc.” His smirk grew and he nodded his head in agreement. “But you can join us, I’m sure your mum wouldn’t mind.”

His jaw dropped before his head tipped back with a laugh. “I’d hate to be a third wheel. Maybe I can steal you for breakfast in the morning instead?”

You looked at the time on your phone and saw midnight tick over. “It’s morning now.” You took a step deeper into the room but your hand tugged tight against Charles where he remained firmly planted at the door, shaking his head.

“I made a promise, bella,” he said softly before pulling you back and into his arms so he could press his lips to your forehead. “I made you lots of promises, and I’m going to show you that I will keep them all…if you give me a chance.”

You tucked your head into the curve of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Three days,” you whispered. “That’s how long you have to show me the kind of man you are now.”

“That’s easy,” he said as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. “I wasn’t a man before. I was just an asshole who let the fame go straight to my head and lost something precious because of it.”

His words caused your stomach to flip and you looked up at him in a new light as you saw the pained look of regret in his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Ma bella,” he groaned, stepping out of your arms and towards the elevator. “Of course I want to come in, but I won’t. We have both changed. I want us to get to know one another again. Start afresh.”

You swallowed down the plea that was on your tongue because he was right. If you fell back into the same pattern like last time it would be stupid to think there would be a different outcome.

You wrapped your arms around yourself to keep from reaching for him as you conceded a nod. “Pick me up at 8am for breakfast?”

“It’s a date.” He started to walk backwards to the elevator like he was savouring every last second of seeing you in person and blew you a kiss as he hit the down arrow. It opened immediately and he looked a little disappointed as he stepped inside before a smile started to curl at the corners of his lips. “And just so you know, I am the prettiest Leclerc…until it is you.”

Three Years Later.

A gentle euphony echoed along the halls of the otherwise silent house and you wiped the sleep from your eyes as you padded barefoot down the staircase. It was far too early to be awake and even the birds had yet to rise with their songs as you passed the large glass doors that overlooked the dark waters of the Côté d’Azur.

With quiet footsteps you crept around the corner to the living room to find the reason why all the beds were empty.

Charles looked exhausted as he sat at the piano bench, his fingers moving slowly over the keys, drawing out each note a beat longer than they should. The retired racer’s jaw trembled with a suppressed yawn but his tired eyes were blinking less and less as he started to slump.

“How long have you been playing, love?” you asked as you sat beside him and brushed his hair back from his face. “The kids are fast asleep.”

“Really?” Charles turned with a groan to see Jules snoring on the sofa with his little sister tucked into his arms. “Melody’s crying woke him up.” He rose to his feet and cracked his back that had gone stiff from playing for hours. “I can’t wait for those teeth to just come through already.”

“You should have woken me.”

He bent in half, groaning at the protest in his back but he pushed through the pain so he could kiss you. “I need this, bella. I can’t feed her when she wakes in the night but I can play her lullaby. And you must have been tired if you didn’t hear her on the monitor.”

You followed your husband to the couch and gently scooped Melody into your arms, praying she was in a deep sleep, before carrying her back up to the nursery. Charles followed with Jules asleep in his arms and took his carbon copy to his bedroom beside Melody’s.

You both breathed a sigh of relief when you met in the hallway, the doors shutting on well-oiled hinges. There wasn't a single sound to disturb the kids as you crept back to your bedroom and Charles curled himself around your body.

“Goodnight, my sweet,” he murmured as he kissed your shoulder. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“You don’t have to thank me everyday,” you said with a smile at the regular bedtime routine.

You felt his smile against your skin. “I do, I’m thankful for you everyday and I always will be. Forever, just like I promised.”

Click here for the alternative ending (Max’s).

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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leemillion · 9 months

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Theory Time!

Alright so I have an abundance of theories for The World of Mr Plant so I’m just gonna spill them all here. Maybe I’ll even update it as more theories arise, who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~Mr. Plant always loved Argos~

Now call me crazy but I think Mr. Plant always had a thing for Argos. He just didn’t fully realize/come to terms with it until the valentines episode. And even then he struggled to express emotions at first, but he’s been getting better at that.

Now adding on we all know Mr. Plant won’t hesitate to kill any minor inconvenience that comes his way. And Argos supposedly annoyed him to hell and back. So why didn’t he kill Argos? Sure he thought about it, but he never actually went through with it. It makes no sense to kill a random stranger just for a job but then leave someone you supposedly hate alive, but that’s just me:

Maybe he mistook his feelings for Argos as anger or tried to deny it by rationalizing it in some weird way. I mean it doesn’t seem like he has any relationship experience. Maybe this is his first time feeling these things and that’s why he was so hesitant and confused.

~Why Mr. Plant joined the scouts~

Now I find this one pretty wholesome. Mr. Plant doesn’t like kids at all so Argos being apart of the scouts was something he actively discouraged. Yet by the end of the episode he chose to join them 😌

Now I have 2 reasons for this. It could either be one of them or a mixture of both of them.

Reason #1 - After the incident with the “human” he thought “oh shit I get to kill people and murder people holy shit-“ and decided hey it can’t be that bad

Reason #2 - After the incident with the “human” he realized Argos and the scouts might need someone to protect them so he decided to join to keep them safe.

I think I like the second reason it’s so fucking wholesome. Argos and Mr. Plant have 3 unofficially adopted children now 😌

(One more thing that’s not important to the theory but I didn’t know where else to put it: On the phone Mr. Plant immediately ran over the second Argos mentioned he was “right across the way” Do you think Mr. Plant knew about the creep that lived there??? That he knew about him kidnapping and doing who knows what with kids?? And once he heard Argos was over there he was like “oh fuck no not my Argos 🔪” That’s so cute wtf 😭)

~Mr. Plant’s other half~

So we all know Mr. Plant is half banana leaf. But what about the rest of him? I’ve seen many theories of him being part walker plant, imitation plant, and even human. And I think imitation plant might make the most sense (I still like to think a small part of him is a walker though)

I mean in Gardening with Argos, Argos refers to some of his plants as his “favorite flower.” We all know Mr. Plant is obviously his favorite 🙄

Unless… Mr. Plant isn’t considered a flower at all?

Now this could be a stretch. Maybe there’s 2 types of plants. Those that are considered people and those that are considered just plants. But who knows.

~The mushrooms found Argos creepy~

This might not be so much of a theory as it is an observation.

At first when I watched this episode I thought “tf they mean creepy? He’s like the most normal guy here” And then I realized Argos looks the most normal to the viewers but not the other characters.

Every other character either has an object head, an animal head, a plant head, a body part head, and of course the “humans” with their uncanny ass proportions. Argos isn’t the most human looking thing in their world. In fact there isn’t anyone else in the void who looks like him.

Maybe that’s why he’s always seen as “weird” or “creepy.” Plus we never know much about his family. Just his great great grandfather banana leaf. Maybe his family is some rare species.

Holy shit what if they’re hunted for sport and that’s what those “accidental deaths” were??? Maybe not. Maybe I’m going insane.

~It’s been a long long time~

So I found this comment on a TikTok video:

I did the math and they’re correct. And if Argos is around the same age as Ashur is (23) then he’s been in this specific void since he was about 5 years old. He’s been marking up the days since he was old enough to write.

Meanwhile Mr. Plant moved in almost 2 years ago.

Argos was part of the welcoming committee then right?? I like to think he fell in love the minute he saw Mr. Plant 😌

So what’s next for them? Who knows but I’m rooting for lore in the next episode. Andddd I think that’s about it for theories for now, or at least until I suddenly come up with another. See you all next time :D

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lorre-verie · 9 months

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₊˚ʚ ᗢ. ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴏʀ ᴅᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴛ. ꜰɪᴠᴇ ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

aka, my favourite chapter (may Eywa bless these two pour souls)

the unfortunate pair: ao’nung x fem! sully! reader

chapter summary: going on your first date with a pompous ass-frog! aren’t you excited? absolutely nothing wrong could happen today.

warnings: sudden thoughts of death (giving barbie), two idiots realising they’re in love

word count: 2.9k

You screwed up big time.

“Did you take drugs or something?” Kiri looked at you incredulously as you sat there sheepishly on the hammock of the marui, echoing your thoughts and putting them out for the world to hear.

You paused before answering, “No, but thank you." to which Kiri rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

It was the day after the sleepover, which meant…your date was today. It was seriously happening. You chose to confide in your one and only sister (that wouldn’t tattletale to your parents) about the events that conspired while you and Ao’nung were out of the tent last night.

“You kissed Ao’nung? Seriously? Him?” Kiri bent her body forwards, as if expecting you to tell her she heard wrong. “You must’ve hit your head.”

“...I don’t feel very comfortable right now, guys.” Norm half-whispered from right beside you with tweezers in his hands, about to take your DNA for processing in the lab.

“It’s all good Norm, just, keep on doing your thing- OW! Shit! What was that??” you jumped, feeling a sharp stab on your finger.

“What? You told me to do my thing.” Norm shrugged, placing a vial of your blood into a neat tray by his feet.

“I thought you were going to take hair, or something, with the tweezers???”

Apparently, Norm and Max were trying out remedies using the flora of Pandora. They suspected that if there was going to be a cure for anything, it would have to come from the Great Mother herself.

“Anyways, Norm, buddy,” Kiri smiled a little too widely, making him slow his movements. “We appreciate you keeping our little talk a secret.”

“Little talk? You mean..all that about…” he lowered his voice to a hushed tone, “the kiss?”

You both nodded at the same time.

“Mhm, I really appreciate you not telling our parents anything about that,” you smiled, tilting your head to the side. It was a perfectly genuine smile, but your tone? His lips were sealed.

“Attaboy!” Tonowari slapped Ao’nung on the back harshly, making him choke on his food.

Tsireya had spilled the beans to their parents about Ao’nung’s date with you that was happening within the next hour, despite his insistence to keep her mouth shut.

Luckily for Ao’nung, Ronal wasn’t present, as she had more pressing matters to attend to.

“But remember, I do not permit you kissing her on the first date. It’s much too early for that, son.” Tonowari said while preoccupied with his food, unnoticing how Ao’nung nearly spewed his drink all over the floor at his words.

Tsireya narrowed her eyes at her brother’s reaction, slapping her hand over her now agape mouth as she realised what was going on.

Slowly, she looked up at Ao’nung, who was looking back at his little sister with an equally horrified expression.

“I..have something urgent I need to take care of, please excuse me-” she stood up, scurrying away and out of the marui, turning into a full sprint into the direction of the Sully’s marui.

“Sorry dad, I also have something to do- which I completely forgot about, but as long as I get to it now I’ll be fine, so sorry again dad have a great rest of your day!” Ao’nung quickly followed Tsireya in fear of what she was going to do and who she was going to tell, leaving their father in the marui alone.

He sighed and shook his head, taking their food and dumping it into his own bowl.

“Kids these days..”

Ao’nung raced to the seashore, looking for any sign of his little sister gone rogue, feet kicking the sand wildly into the air. In the far distance of the sea, he only saw various other metkayina going on about their day, and Neteyam and Lo’ak on their ilus.

They were talking to someone who wasn’t on an ilu, it seemed.

His heart skipped a beat as he wondered if it was you, and he craned his head upwards, shielding his eyes from the light to take a look at the na’vi submerged in the water.

Curly hair….definitely a girl…teal skin???

Hold on.

That wasn’t you, that was Tsireya.

He was about to go swim towards them, taking a few steps into the warm water.

…But that was before he saw Neteyam racing towards the shore on his ilu, eyes wide but he was scowling like Ao’nung had just cut all his hair off.

If looks could kill, Ao’nung would’ve dropped dead at that moment, and there would be none of him left to mourn.

Now, he was sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction, Neteyam and Lo’ak hot on his tail.

“I’M GOING TO INVERT YOUR RIBCAGE!” were the last words Ao’nung heard before his world went black. (jk he’s fine)

“Hey ugly frogboy!” you smirked, waving the frogboy in question over to the rock you sat on.

You watched as he swam through the surface of the water, rolling his eyes to signify his clear irritation. You couldn’t help but look at the small droplets of water still retained in his curls from being in the water all day. Then your mind slowly turned to focus on his…everything.

Then it wandered off into entirely different places, like how humans covered themselves up entirely with cloth. Why did they do that? Perhaps it was a thing of religion. But did they not feel hot during the summers they talked about so much in the novels you read?

“You are aware I don’t know what that word means, right?” he said gruffly, hoisting himself onto the rock, water pooling by his feet with each step he took towards you.

You were half expecting him to sit down next to you, but of course he wouldn’t. His pride was too great for that. His shadow was cast over you, protecting you from the shining daylight that was making your face flush.

“Yeah, I just don’t really care,” you pushed yourself up, not willing to have him look down on you any longer. It didn’t really help though, as you still had to look up at him because of the painful height difference.

But this time was different. Instead of his looking down on you like you were the bane of his existence, eyes squinting and lips pushed up into a scowl, he let his head hang down low to meet the angle of yours. He usually looked up and past you, acting as if you weren’t there.

But this time, this time his irises were fixed on yours, combined with a smile you never usually saw on his face before made your stomach pit. It wasn’t in a bad way, though.

Why was he looking at you like that? What’s up with that smile? Why is his body language so..open, now? What changed? You weren't sentimental, but there was something about the way he looked at you that made a spongy tenderness push down on your chest, knocking the air out of it.

No.

You didn’t entirely understand it at the time, but that was the only word your mind came up with. You didn’t want this. You can’t get attached. He’s just here to help you complete your silly little bucket list before you die. Not another person to be sad about when you’re crying on your deathbed.

You ripped your eyes away from his, walking past him and into the cold ocean, getting ready to swim whenever.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he voiced out from behind you. Involuntarily, you froze. The bastard probably wasn’t aware of the shivers sent down your spine as he said those words, shivers which you desperately tried to ignore.

Perhaps this whole date thing was a big mistake. You could’ve asked Rotxo out in front of everyone instead of him, couldn’t you? The horrified look on Ao’nung’s face would be equally as satisfying to see as the look on his face when you asked him, would it not?

“You can’t be swimming anywhere. I won’t allow you to. We can’t have you passing out on me again like last time, princess.”

The words spilled out of him like he’d said it to dozens of other girls in the past.

Princess.

You turned around when he said that, eyes wide, staring straight at him, but he made no move.

“I’m not weak.”

He shrugged. “I know. But you wouldn’t want anything getting in the way of our lovely date that you so desperately begged me for, right?”

You deadpanned, turning your head back around and attempting to walk deeper into the water, ignoring the goosebumps spread throughout your body as the cold engulfed your thighs. Dammit, why’d it have to be windy?

Your eyes rolled on their own out of pure reflex hearing him walk towards you, his footsteps emphasised by the sound of splashing water.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop m–”

His arms were wrapped around your abdomen, right below your chest. He bent down and laid his head sideways on the spot on your back between the shoulders, as if he were begging you not to leave. His body wasn’t pressing up against yours, rather a quite a bit of space was placed between you two.

(haha u thought i was gonna continue that scene? in ur dreams)

“So all you have to do is try and get three of those symbols in a row, and the first one to do that wins,” you gestured towards the grid you marked out in the sand, sitting cross legged in front of a confused Ao’nung.

“..Seems easy enough.” he squinted as he peered at the grid, no doubt in his mind he was wondering how sky people invented these sorts of games.

You drew your first circle.

Then he crossed out an X.

The pattern repeated, until you trapped him skillfully, leaving him no choice but to let you win.

“What the- How’d you do that?” he frowned, much to your pleasure.

“Well, a master tic-tac-toer doesn’t share their secrets!” you grinned, secretly uncertain how this buffoon was the next chief of the Metkayina.

To you, this was child’s play. To him, it’s like he’d started learning new war tactics from a space alien (not entirely false).

“I demand a rematch!” he huffed, redrawing the grid on the sand with his finger.

“Fine, but don’t get all sulky when I keep winning.”

You’ve probably played tic-tac-toe like, 50 times in a row by now. It was getting boring, but the look on his face after you managed to win again and again and again was so worth it.

He groaned after he saw he’d been defeated for the umpteenth time, covering his face in absolute shame. “I’m a disappointment to my family.” he muttered between his hands.

“Pff–” you slapped your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from plundering his ego further, but it was too late, he was now glaring at your expression.

“I demand a rema–”

“Oh my goodness, just stop it!” you complained, but your playful smirk never left your face. “You lost like a hundred times, get over it! Why do you keep insisting on replaying even though you know you’re gonna keep losing?”

He shut his mouth, looking sideways downcast at the sand. Because I like seeing your smile whenever you win.

But over his dead body would he tell you that. Or admit to himself he just thought that.

Tell her something, anything! Just stop looking so depressed! She’s gonna think you’re lame! A sore loser! Shit, shit come up with something you stupid idiot!

You stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed. He was fidgeting with his fingers, still staring at that particular patch of sand. The gentle breeze was blowing to your left, towards the village, and you kind of considered taking him there to his mother’s tent in case they had treatment for the crisis he looked like he was having.

Had you not been staring at other things during the awkward moment of silence that fell over you two, you would’ve noticed the slight blush of purple tingeing the tips of his ears as he looked down at your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the sand.

How would your fingers feel tracing the stripes on his back?

Wait, what?

WHAT?

No because that’s like the most embarrassing and weird and totally nasty thing he’s ever thought of. WHAT.

You- He- You both- what- WHAT-

AAAAAAAAKJNDCBAKDNVKCANKJDBNKCNABQIEHBFJHQABHJSBCUGWEGUIAUDHSNCDJEQWB4GIWUUDHACKBJVWFGYEIHUDAJSCKBWDHVJFBEDJSIALNCDKBFEHWOJQIDSACLKNJDBKEVWHGRIHUFEDCAJLSKNDJVKBWRGHUI ok but how would your hands feel in his VDJLNKBEWGHIEUVADKSBJEHGVADJNSDVBEHGDJANBVKEFHGRYIWEHUFAJOIQHUKGRWUOVADFHKBRGJWFBOIUWKSKWBJSDHKSHUIDOEULSJNVBKSBDJVLGHAKERBDHJSCVAGERUYADHJSVBKVGRIYUHWVKDJSNAHWRUIGVSDJKNAHWRUGIWKABEGIAUKJFSZDBV

He took a deep breath in to steady himself, silently praying to Eywa so that you wouldn’t notice how purple he was in the face.

He liked you.

He liked you a lot.

I mean, that was obvious. He kissed you. But like, kissing someone doesn’t mean you AUTOMATICALLY like them right.

As he made up a million excuses for his behaviour inside his mind, you were having thoughts the total opposite to his.

You wondered how he’d react to the news of your death.

Tsireya knew, Lo’ak told her while he was being all emo (rightfully though).

Ronal knew.

Tonowari was to know..maybe today? You didn’t bother about the details; whatever was to happen would happen.

But the problem is, you were having second thoughts about…this whole situation.

You got your date. That’s the only thing you wanted right?

Could this count as…manipulation???

Okay, it totally does. Kissing some guy and then taking him out on a date when your life is in great peril and not letting him know that your life is in great peril totally counts as manipulation.

Oh my god. What if he actually catches feelings for you??

Oh my god. What if YOU catch feelings for HIM??

You looked at him again as he stared deeply into nothing, his eyes looking past you. Or rather, perhaps they were looking at you before, but he looked away once you looked at him.

“...cute.” you whispered absent-mindedly.

“What?” he responded, making your eyes go half an inch wider.

“I said you look like a sack of shit.”

“Oh.” he huffed, looking down at the sand.

You looked at him incredulously. What? No comeback? No insult? No ‘screw you’?

Suddenly, you felt something weigh down on your chest.

Everything around you felt so much more real.

The millions of grains of sand beneath your legs, some caught in between your toes, and the crisp breeze blowing softly around your neck like a wisp.

You, sitting here with him.

The countdown on your life.

You clenched your right hand as you reached out your left, drawing a new tic-tac-toe board on the dry, soft particles of sand.

As the two of you resumed playing, you struggled to actually accept the reality of it all.

You were going to die. (if Norm and Max didn’t find a cure).

How would it feel?

How would your family do without you?

You were in some sort of state of denial before this moment.

And now you had the unsuppressable urge you supposed your human ancestors did.

To forget.

As the morning light spilled into the marui of the olo’eyktan’s family, one boy in particular hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully.

His mind raced with the flashes of the memories of the date you two had, his face and ears shade of deep periwinkle.

He turned on his side to face the woven walls of his home, one hand clasped over the other as he laid deep in thought.

The look on your face when you two danced in tandem.

The creases of your smile when you played truth or dare.

The tenderness in your voice when you had conversations with your family.

You.

Forget a ‘crush’.

The man was, undeniably, irrevocably, undoubtedly, indubitably,

in love with you.

And he struggled to figure out why.

“Brother! Get up!” Tsireya’s voice suddenly connected through his brain, causing him to fall off his hammock with a large thud.

“Eywa, recently you’ve been so much harder to wake up.” she sighed to herself, crossing her arms as she looked down at the amusing sight of her older brother on the floor.

To her surprise, he didn’t respond, instead slowly rising from the floor, subtly trying to hide the blush on his face from his sister (who can read him like a children’s book).

She gasped dramatically, causing him to take a few groggy steps back in fright. “You looooveee her, don’t you!” she teased, her eyes, usually big and sweet, now narrowed into those of a mischievous cat.

He looked at her in horror. HOW DID SHE KNOW. (bro the whole village knows atp its not like ur trying 2 hide it)

“You must be delusional.” he said after taking a few seconds to compose himself. He put on this air of.. “superiority.”

“There’s no way I’d like someone like her.” he sneered, trying to convince himself that you were super ugly and totally not his type and totally doesn’t make him kick his feet giggling silently in the middle of the night whenever he thinks about you and the banter you share.

She rolled her eyes, seeing straight through his…can you even call those ‘lies’? “Right…well she definitely likes you, you know. You should be more considerate,” her voice dropped into a soft whisper, “...with her situation.”

At that, he blinked away his morning sleepiness. “What? What situation?” he asked genuinely, looking into Tsireya’s now widened eyes.

She froze, realising what she just said.

The marui was empty, just them two. In that moment, it felt like the winds stopped moving, everything remaining static except for the two siblings.

The slightly horrified look on her face made his heart drop.

He stepped towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Tsireya.”

“What situation?”

omfg, feels so good to be back writing, idk why it took so long since my announcement probs just because things have been really busy in my life lately, but i hope u guys enjoy <3 sorry if the story seems a little disconnected, its just been a while since i’ve written this whole thing haha

as always, (i love writing this part), I appreciate you all so muchh, tysm for the support on the series both on this account and my wattpad account. Please stay tuned for the rest 💗

much loved, lorre.

Taglist: @eywas-heir @elegantkidfansoul @yeosxxx @whoreforpomegranates @fanboyluvr @thecrazyswamp @shkudss @stvrligghtt @ratchetprime211 @dearstell @littlecrisisworld @itssomeonereading @goodiesinthecloset21 @ilovejakesullysdick @larkkyoris @opalescentblog @lovedbychoi @plzfeedmebread @holysaladapricothero @arminsgfloll @lovekeeh @evans-bitch @seashelldom @quest-for-pluto @bananasplits-world @ken-zah @anxietydrogz @inluvwithneteyam @www-interludeshadow-com @anonmously-anonomous @ancientbeing10 @aonungmyaddiction @ahsatan785 @fangzy @writinganything @mistyheart @mushy-mushroom04 @aaonungslover @scentedstrawberryenemy

note: names in red are the ones i've added to the taglist but i couldn’t tag!

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akiizayoi4869 · 10 months

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If there's one part about Vegeta's arc that I absolutely love, it would be this:

His regression in season 8 was very well done. It wasn't shoehorned in and it made sense. I remember seeing on Reddit years ago people complaining about this specific part of his arc, saying that it made no sense for him to regress the way he did when he was redeemed at this point. But consider this. It makes perfect sense when you factor in one thing: he wasn't redeemed yet. He was still going through his redemption arc by this point.

Vegeta wasn't raised to be a family man. He was raised to be a killing machine. He was raised with the idea in mind that he would one day be the king of the Saiyan race. All of that got taken away from him. His belief that he was the strongest Saiyan alive was taken when Goku became a Super Saiyan and defeated Frieza, and again when Gohan became a Super Saiyan 2 and killed Perfect Cell. And then Goku makes the choice to stay dead instead of coming back to life via the dragon balls. So now, Vegeta's one rival, the person who he swore he would one day surpass and defeat is gone for good. So all Vegeta has left at this point is the family he created with Bulma. Something that he most likely never envisioned for himself. So he decides to live a life on earth with her and their son.

Everything seems to be going fine for Vegeta....until the World Martial Arts Tournament happens. And Goku decides to return on this one day so that he can participate. Suddenly, all of the feelings that Vegeta bottled up over the last 7 years since Goku's death comes rushing to the surface. Finally, after all this time, Vegeta could finally prove that he's better than Goku. They even get matched up to fight each other in the tournament! How lucky is that, right? And then this guy happens:

And just like that, Vegeta's chance to fight Goku is now shattered thanks to this new threat to Earth. Instead of his attention being on him, Goku has his sights set on defeating Buu before he can be revived. For the entire time Vegeta, Goku, Gohan, and the Supreme Kai are in Babidi's lair, Vegeta is angry. He's waited 7 years for the chance to fight Goku again, and now that he finally gets the chance to do so, this happens. We see Vegeta's mood get worse and worse throughout the time they fight Babidi's minions, and it's gets so bad to the point where Babidi is able to get Vegeta under his control. Now, as Vegeta pointed out later on, he actually could of fought off Babidi's mind control. But he chose not to. Why? Because he saw how powerful Babidi's minions were while they were under his control. So Vegeta figured he could use some of that power to do this:

Fight Goku without any interruptions. Which is what he wanted from the start. Even though he knew that fighting would give more energy to Buu and thus revive him, Vegeta didn't care. So long as he got to fight Goku. Keep in mind that this is the same guy who let Semi-Perfect Cell absorb Android 18, despite the fact that he knew it could end up being a bad decision. But Vegeta didn't care because he wanted a good fight.

Now there's one line that Vegeta said to Goku during this fight that always stuck with me from the moment I heard it back when I was a kid. When Goku asks him why did he do all of this, Vegeta responds with "Because I wanted him to reawaken the evil within my heart. I wanted him to return me to the way I was...BEFORE!!! I WAS THE PERFECT WARRIOR! COLD AND RUTHLESS! I LIVED BY MY STRENGTH ALONE! UNINHIBITED BY FOOLISH EMOTION!!! But slowly...over the years... I became one of you. My quest for greatness gradually giving way to this life of mediocrity. I awoke one day to find that I had settled down and formed a family. I had even grown quite fond of them. Would you believe, I almost started thinking that the Earth was a nice place to live. Do you understand now, Kakarrot? That's why I needed Babidi! To set me free! By releasing the evil within my heart! He has freed me of these petty attachments. And I have to say it feels pretty good."

That entire speech he gave to Goku summarized PERFECTLY the internal conflict that Vegeta had going on within him. On the one hand, he wants this. He wants to feel strong again. He wants to defeat Goku and prove that he's better than him once and for all. He wants the life of a warrior back, because for so long that's all he knew. But on the other hand, he knows that the way he's going about it is wrong. Like he just admitted to Goku, there's a small part of him that loves the life he made for himself, and that he loves his family, too. Which is why Goku then says to him "Do you really believe what you're saying?". Now, Vegeta doesn't respond to this, but he doesn't have to. His silence is his answer. After that, the long awaited fight between these two begins. And after a while, Vegeta does come to the realization that he fucked up big time, and that he needs to do something to make up for it. Which is why he does this:

He knocks Goku out while his back is turned. Why? Because he wants to fight Majin Buu alone. Because if it hadn't been for Vegeta's desire to fight Goku, Majin Buu probably wouldn't have gotten the energy he needed to be revived. So Vegeta decides to take full responsibility for everything and take on Buu himself. To me, this is when his redemption arc comes full circle, because of his sacrifice. He knows that he can't beat Majin Buu through normal means, so what does he do? Blow himself up in an explosion that he's certain will destroy Buu along with him.

Vegeta even says in his mind that he's doing this for Bulma, Trunks, and even Goku. Something that I'm pretty sure a lot of us never thought we would ever hear him say. That he's doing something for other people. That he's not doing this for himself. I'm pretty sure that he saw this as his way to atone (hence why this move is called "final atonement" in the video games) but the fact remains that he did it anyway. Sure, we see Vegeta get angry when Perfect Cell killed Future Trunks, but still. That moment can't compare to this one. All in all, Majin Vegeta is the best part of Vegeta's redemption arc and the way how it's written really did an excellent job in wrapping it up.

#DBZ #Majin Vegeta #Vegeta #Majin Buu #Goku

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cyripticchronicler · 4 months

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Ink and Destiny - Part 4

Maybe keeping a secret relationship with James is not as perfect as you think. Or, a whole lot of nothing, I need ideas plz.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I hope everyone had a great Christmas! If you don't celebrate it then I hope you had a good day! Sorry this part is really bad, I need ideas, PLEASE give me ideas in the suggestion box please ily.

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Did you hear that James Potter is dating someone?”

“Do you think it’s Lily? He’s been crushing on her for years” “Of course it’s Lily. They’re going to have the cutest babies.”

You focus on the schoolwork before you, trying to block out the people next to you. You know James and you agreed to keep this dating thing private but you can’t help but feel sad, and jealous when people think he’s dating Lily.

You know James likes you, he’s made it clear. And you know that Lily doesn’t like James if the way she always rolled her eyes when he was around was any indication.

You’ve told Lily and Alice everything between you and James, as James has Sirius and Remus. Alice already knew since James asked her what your favourite book was, and Lily was shocked, disgusted and happy for you all in the span of five minutes.

The teacher dismisses the class and you rush out, bumping into Lily on your way to the girl's dormitory.

“You’ll come with me to the Quidditch game, right?” You ask nervously. You’re still nervous around James and Lily coming with you would help you calm down a lot.

She nods, hooking her arm with yours, “Yeah. Do you want to start getting ready? I’ll paint your nails.”

“Can you paint them red? I don’t know what I’m wearing yet, please help me.” you plead, sighing in relief when you reach the Gryffindor common room.

Scanning the room, your eyes land on James sitting on the couches in front of the fireplace, talking to James and Sirius.

Lily teasingly nudges me and you glare. “Stop it-” You stop at the sound of your name being called out and turn to face the speaker.

“Do you want to sit with us?” Sirius Black asks you from his seat, eyes swirling with mischief.

“Excuse me?” You squeak. From the corner of my eye, you see James smash his face against the couch pillow.

“The Quidditch game. Do you want to sit with Remus and me?” James lifts his head from the pillow, cheeks flushed as he mouths a silent ‘sorry.’

You nod, “Okay. As long as Lily can sit with us.”

It’s Remus who speaks, “Of course. We’ll meet here in an hour.”

You nod your head awkwardly, flashing them smiles then drag Lily up the stairs.

“I’m not ready to hang out with Remus and Sirius, what if they don’t like me? James values their opinion and if they don’t like me then who knows what will happen-” Lily cuts you off with her hands on your shoulders. “Calm down, it’ll be okay. You’ve worked with Remus before in Potions, remember? He liked you, and Sirius will like you too. Now cmon, let’s get ready.”

She leads you to a table in the corner, pulling out a deep red nail polish. You take turns painting each other's nails, Lily choosing to go for a dark green.

“What do I wear?” You ask, throwing everything out of your trunk in search of something cute. She joins you on the floor, rummaging through your trunk before holding a black skirt up.

“This is cute!”

“It’s almost winter.” “So? You’ll wear tights.”

It's pleated and lands mid-thigh. Hesitantly, you agree and you continue the hunt for a top. You chose to pair it with a maroon turtle neck sweater so you don’t freeze to death.

“Are you wearing cute underwear?” Lily asks as you get dressed.

“What? We’re not having sex!”

“Are you sure?” You send her a look. “Okay, but wearing cute underwear makes you more confident.” “Go away.” You can’t resist your smile as Lily laughs. You quickly do your makeup and hair, putting on simple black boots.

“Is this too much for a Quidditch game?” You ask self-consciously. Lily scoffs from behind you, “No. You look hot.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

—

Remus and Sirius are sitting in the same place as before, cheeky grins on their faces as they spot you.

“You ladies look amazing,” Sirius purrs, “You ready? I know James is excited to see you.” He winks, causing your cheeks to flush.

Ignoring Sirius and Lily’s laughter, you make your way to the field, Remus falling into step next to you.

“Don’t stress about getting him to like you. He already does. We all do.” At your confused face, he continues, “James has been so much happier since he found out you were his soulmate. And we like whoever makes him happy. So as long as you don't break his heart, we like you.”

“I’d never break his heart.”

“Good.”

—

“Potter! Potter! Potter!” The common room is deafeningly loud with almost everyone from Gryfindoor celebrating.

Gryffindor won, obviously, and the celebrations have been going on for an hour already. Besides a quick congratulations on winning the game, you haven't seen James since.

You and Lily were sitting alone in the corner before she got dragged away with a boy from her Defence Against the Dark Arts class, so now you’re sitting alone, nursing a glass of water as you try not to look too miserable. Parties have never been your thing, and even though you can’t exactly speak to James, you’d celebrate with him in spirit.

Perking up, you spot Sirius coming towards you with flushed cheeks, forehead lined with sweat. “Darling! James asked you to meet him in the boy's dormitory. It’s nice and empty for ya.” He slurs, stumbling over his feet.

Your cheeks flush red and you hurriedly thank Sirius before pushing your way through the crowd, breathing a sigh of relief when you make it into the dormitory.

It’s empty and you stand awkwardly in the middle, turning in a circle as you take in all the bits and bobs around the place.

There’s only one bed made, most likely Remus’s, and clothes are strewn across the floor.

“I’m sorry, I told the boys to clean up in here.” You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of James’s voice. Turning around, you take in his sweaty hair and flushed cheeks.

“It’s okay.” You mutter quietly, watching as he comes closer.

He goes to hug you but stops. “Sorry, let me have a shower.” He points to a messy bed, “Take a seat, I’ll be quick.”

The door shuts behind him and you do as he instructed, tidying his bed up a bit, first. Ten minutes later he comes barreling in, cheeks flushed from the hot shower.

He sits down next to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I feel like I haven't hugged you in ages. How are you, Love?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“I’m amazing.”

He kisses you, it’s soft and gentle but you can’t get those nagging thoughts out of your head.

James notices, of course, he does. “You seem tense, you sure you’re okay?”

You tense even more and he pulls away slightly, brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay?” He asks again.

“I- We’re not going to have sex, right?” You blurt, wincing immediately.

He pulls away completely. “No. I just missed you, haven't seen you much tonight so I thought we could have some quiet time together, I know you don’t like parties. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention. I just missed you.”

Your cheeks flush and you shove them into your hands. “No, I’m sorry, I’m so stupid.”

He gently prys your hands apart, “Hey, no. I would’ve thought the same thing, too. But we’re not having sex until I become your boyfriend and we talk about what we’re comfortable with, okay?” “You want to be my boyfriend?” You ask shyly, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Of course, You’re incredible. Why wouldn’t I want to be?”

You hesitate, “I have a lot of insecurities, James, and I don’t want to burden you with them.”

He scoffs, “You could never burden me.” He lays down beside you, reaching out so you’re forced to rest your chin on his chest, legs tangled with yours.

You scoff, earning a stern glare from James.

You change topics, “So when are you going to be my boyfriend?” You question teasingly.

He sighs playfully, “Well, I was going to ask you on our next date.”

Your eyebrows raise, “Our next date?” He nods. “I’ll bring your favourite food if you promise to ask me to be your girlfriend, okay? "He smiles, “It’s a deal.” Returning his smile, you lean in for a kiss, relishing in his warmth. Neither of you notices the time go by, too captivated by each other.

Taglist: I have a taglist omg

@lilianelena39 (I didn't know if you still wanted to be tagged but if you don't just leave a comment!) @remussbitch @universallyblizzardlove @ropickle

Thank you all for your support! I promise the next chapter will be more interesting, hopefully.

#james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter drabble #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot

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lostmyremembrall · 1 year

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Thank you very much for your reply. I'll drop you my request 🤭

I was thinking of a story where Reader is a Slytherin and is part of Tom's circle of "friends" but she's the one person who's considered a bit less because of her personality so she is ...more sort of..reserved?

Tom gives them the task of researching his family and past (so all the Gaunt and Riddle thing) since he trusts her enough and she is one of the few purebloods who has an open mind and therefore wouldn't judge or use it against him.

And maybe at a meeting after the summer holidays at hogwarts or maybe a meeting at Malfoy Manor or whatever place you decide, you can also choose the year...The Death Eaters notice a change in her, Tom as well and he points it out to her when they are alone and she says something to him about something that happened when she went to the Muggle world for a while (she had several hooks up with a Muggle even though she knew it was wrong).

You can decide Tom's reaction 🥺 and I have a half idea how to continue it but I don't want to make this request so long and specific. I apologise. And thank you very much again. ❤️

-🪻

𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝓜𝓮

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑆𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛

Y/L/N was a strange one.

One of the few that Tom couldn’t get a read on. As she stared up at you with her large eyes, unblinking, just staring, it was impossible to surmise what on earth was going on inside her head.

Even now as Lestrange, Black and Yaxley rustled, their arms around each other singing ‘Nous Noblesses Fières’, she trailed behind them closely, watching, her eyes paler in the sunlight streaming in from of a window.

“Stop gawking, Y/L/N,” Lestrange, who had noticed her usual eerie eyes, pushed her away, causing her to stumble into a few students walking past them.

Some of his knights had questioned why she even joined. She was the least of a pureblood fanatic of them all. Tom continued to watch her as she regained her composure, her textbooks close to her chest, and resumed walking beside them again. His theory was that justice mattered very little to her – to her, it was simply loyalty.

Blacks obeyed him. Malfoys followed him. Lestranges worshipped him.

Simply thus, Y/L/N chose him.

Yaxley once suggested that Y/L/N was just slow. That, when she turned those large eyes to the meeting, the class blackboard, to Tom, there was just nothing going on inside her brain.

Yaxley couldn’t have been more oblivious.

Tom never missed the intelligence that flashed in her large eyes every so often at the meetings. When she watched through her lashes with her doe eyes, she did not just watch. No, she observed, studied, collecting every subtle information available from her environment as the cogs turned busily in her brain.

In the silence of the meeting, Tom could almost hear her cogs turn. In the dim light of the Room of Requirement, her eyes gleamed: “I could do better. I know better.”

And still, her lips remained shut.

Tom decided to clear his throat, his knights immediately growing quiet. “Y/L/N,” he murmured, enjoying the sight of his knights that turned around with his single utterance of a word. Y/L/N included.

She was mildly shocked, Tom noticed her eyes slightly widen, if it was even possible to get any larger.

“Walk with me,” his lips curled into what he knew to be an inviting, benevolent smile.

“What?” Yaxley was perhaps even more shocked. “But Tom, we’re heading to lunch–”

But Yaxley was quickly interrupted by Tom’s cool voice, “Yes, I’m well aware, thank you, Yaxley.”

From the corner of his eyes, Tom watched Yaxley shrink smaller in between the shoulders of Lestrange and Black. Tom composed himself before flashing a smile down at Y/L/N once more.

“Transfiguration, was it?” he cocked a brow, offering his arm, “I’ll walk you.” He watched with great satisfaction at the shock that crossed her face, unaware that he had her schedule memorised.

She hesitated, her sharp eyes wavering in between Tom’s before landing on the three of his knights, still flabbergasted and taken by shock at the event that was unfolding in front of them. They all knew what this was. A private word with the Dark Lord himself. It was a praise, or a prestigious, private mission. Yaxley was barely standing upright, clinging onto his two friends as Y/L/N essentially got promoted before his eyes.

In the end, without a word, she placed her hand on his arm. An acceptance.

Tom smiled contently before swerving to his left. “Behave yourselves,” he raised a cautionary brow, leaving the three defeated shoulders.

Y/L/N was barely watching where she was headed as they navigated through the corridors, her eyes glued to the side of his face. He bit down on his lips. And here he thought he was excellent at reading people. Her eyes revealed nothing, he noticed as he stole a glance from her. There was no infatuation, admiration, intrigue or curiosity. As if she were some sort of a soulless doll capable of perfectly mimicking human behaviour. It was not the kind of attention he was used to, and most comfortable with, if he had to admit.

“What are your thoughts on my knights, Y/L/N?” he decided to break the silence.

Tom thought he saw a slight crease appear in between her brows, momentarily before it disappeared. For once, her eyes left his features and trailed down his necktie in contemplation.

“They’re reckless.”

Her voice was breezy and composed, reminiscent of a ghost, almost translucent and serene.

Tom nodded contently at the astute observation she’s made. Chanting pureblood supremacy that loudly in midday was certainly not going to cast a positive light on any that associated with them.

“Why ask me?”

Tom cast a smirk down at her, knowing full well what she was asking. She tilted her head, inquiring, why was I chosen? Not Lestrange, not Malfoy, but me?

“Quiet people have the loudest minds,” Tom recited as if singing a tune. “Have you read Hawking? A muggle astrophysicist.”

Y/L/N’s brows furrowed, perhaps not even comprehending the word ‘astrophysicist’. She regretfully shook her head. “Sorry, no. I haven’t read many muggle authors.”

He hummed, having expected the answer. “Well, you will be learning about muggles, alright,” he murmured.

“You see, Y/L/N,” noting the confusion that was evident in her eyes, he glanced down at his watch and led her away from the crowd to a more secluded corner by the window, just by the stairs.

Ignoring her eyes that wearily watched the other students heading into Transfiguration class, he placed his palms on her arms.

“This is going to be a delicate mission,” he started, choosing the words carefully.

“The time has come for me to face my roots— essential to the direction of our future.”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “I need you to use this break to search about my father. His lineage, his whereabouts, everything.” He licked his lips briefly before continuing. “You can see how sensitive this information will be.”

Y/L/N pondered for a moment before nodding.

“I cannot leave this crucial task to those buffoons,” he cast a sideway glance to the direction they came from before his eyes trained on hers once more. “You would never disappoint me, Y/L/N, will you?”

Tom saw with satisfaction the surge of pride and determination in her narrowed eyes. She muttered, “I won’t, my Lord.”

He nodded contently and stood upright. “I will be looking out for your owl then,” he beamed at her as she walked off, disappearing into the Transfiguration classroom.

Yes, acknowledgement went far when it came to garnering your follower’s full dedication. Y/L/N will go far trying to prove herself better than any other followers. She was going to do anything within her power and connection to finish the job and succeed.

He sighed and turned on his heels, a proud smirk playing on his lips as he hummed the tune of Nous Noblesses Fières. The lonesome steps of his shoes echoing in the hallway as he congratulated himself on a job very well done.

-----

As he had expected, Y/L/N did not disappoint as an owl arrived a week before the spring semester began: a promise of what he had asked for in the claws of a barn owl.

Tom briskly walked towards the secluded section of the library, near the restricted section. His hands in his pockets, he sauntered through the shelves, peeking around the corners for any sign of Y/L/N.

Tom backtracked when he spotted her, sitting and gazing out the window at the rain droplets that were meandering down the panes.

“Y/L/N?” he called out to her.

Tom couldn’t help the slight shock that surfaced in his raise of brows as Y/L/N turned her head. She looked drastically different. Barely recognisable, as her large eyes, embellished with dark eyeliner turned towards him. A tint of garnet was smeared on her lips. Even now as he stood by her, flabbergasted, her eyes softened into a smile that he had never seen on her before.

“What happened to her?” “I don’t know her anymore.” The murmurs and whispers of his knights returned to him. The school has been buzzing since the beginning of the term. It made sense, the kind of reaction that she elicited in his knights, Tom thought. People rarely managed to surprise him, but this– it was enough to elicit an amused smirk out of him at the mere fact that she managed to do so.

He approached the desk, “You look…”

But, his voice soon trailed off at the sight that greeted him. As he rounded the table, Y/L/N’s uniform became more visible, revealing the skirt that came down to mid-thigh, much shorter than before. Her blouse, with the top buttons now unbuttoned, revealed her cleavage. Underneath the collars, Tom caught glimpses of a lacey black bra and a necklace, shaped like a robin taking flight.

He had been standing there for a while like a fool, a man outlandishly staring at the opening of her blouse before Y/L/N’s voice brought him out of his stupor.

There was a quiet “My Lord?” Tom had to shut his mouth close and tear his eyes away from her shirt’s opening.

He sat down across from her, trying to compose himself. He cleared his throat, “Right, your findings."

In her large eyes, he thought he saw a shimmer of amusement. Without breaking the gaze, she stood up to lean over the table. His heart began to hammer against his ribs at the sight of her cleavage mere inches from his face.

“Are you finding my blouse distracting, My Lord?” she murmured in a hushed whisper, a smirk ghosting her maroon lips.

“No, of course not,” he responded, perhaps too quickly, hoping desperately that Y/L/N was not as observant as he deemed.

The luck, however, did not seem to be on his side. “If you say so,” with a slight shrug that indicated she wasn’t buying it, she leaned further towards him. Tom couldn’t help but grip the arms of his chair as he watched Y/L/N crawl over the table towards him. Painstakingly slow, like a feline predator that was inching around its prey.

Tom swallowed hard, wanting desperately to look around them for any passerbys, who would have certainly had a full view at underneath her skirt. Yet, as much as he willed himself, his eyes continued to flicker between her challenging gaze and the curves of her hips.

Soon enough, Y/L/N reached him across the table which felt too short yet too long. She slid herself down the desk and towered over him, laying her palm against his chest. Underneath her hand, his heart hammered away loud and fast. He parted his lips to protest, but no sound came, like his voice was taken away.

She inched closer towards him, and one by one, mounted her legs on his seat. Straddling his thighs, she cast her eyes down at him. His eyes darted back and forth panicked, searching for any signs of life that may be coming towards them by happenstance.

“What are you–,” Tom breathed out, just to be cut short as Y/L/N began grinding against him.

“Your father is a muggle, named Tom Riddle sr.,” she started, speaking in that soft translucent voice. Puffs of her hot breaths reached his left ear and down his neck, sending a tingly sensation across his body. “Old money. Living with his grandparents in his manor,” she continued. There was something about a muggle village in Yorkshire. Something about an old Slytherin family in the area.

But for the life of Tom, he was barely staying focused enough to understand her words. His grip on the arm grew tighter, his knuckles turning white. He sighed deeply at her fingers that traced his cheekbones to his temple. His head dropped back against the chair, almost pleading to the heavens at her fingers that began running through his hair. He was just about keeping himself from returning the touch.

Y/L/N watched him underneath her through her lashes as his cheeks grew flustered. Her voice trailed off, leaving only the sound of his heavy breathing as his chest fell and rose. Tom did not dare close his eyes, watching her lips inch closer to his little by little, closing their gap. His grip loosened, and with his trembling hands, he slowly wrapped around Y/L/N’s waist. Her lips had never looked more enticing. Eager to devour them, Tom reached up to meet her lips, only for her to recoil at the last moment. Her heat had left him with a cool void.

Y/L/N giggled. She was clearly enjoying this.

“I’ll tell you the rest soon,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes giving off another shimmer. “Meet me in my room tonight.” Her fingers delicately brushed the strands of his chestnut hair out of his face.

It was as if the voicebox had suddenly been returned to him, unbound by the spell. “What happened, Y/L/N?” he managed to breathe out.

Y/L/N certainly was not expecting his kind of reaction. Her expression clouded, staring at his expression that grew sober by the second at her hesitation. “Nothing,” was all she said after recovering from the shock.

This time, it was his turn to tilt his head, seeing right through her lies. Her fingers stopped twirling with his hair, and for a moment the two sat in each other’s embrace, waiting for the other to say anything.

His brows furrowed as he tried to put the pieces together. The eyeliner, sure. The lipstick, dismissible. But, this 180 degrees of change was… alarming. If he remembered it correctly, there were only a few things that could explain it – many of them unfavourable and troublesome to the adjustment of the developing mind of their age.

His hesitation to stop this heated moment grew into a conviction at the sight of her biting her lips. There was something clearly wrong that she was afraid to admit. As the leader, he had to be aware of any life-changing problems that his knights were facing. Problems that could become a liability to the entire cause, even those of his most competent ones.

Intuiting that there was nothing more to be said or done, he patted her left thigh with a sigh. “Come to my room when you’re ready to talk,” he looked upright into her eyes.

Defeated, she slid off of him and stood up, quietly watching him pick up his satchel to leave. He gave a curt nod to her, and left the desk.

He was just about to round the corner of the shelf when she spoke up behind him.

“I hooked up.”

Tom slowly turned on his heels to face her, who was now refusing to meet his gaze. Her lips were pursed as if she had nothing more to say, staring out the corner of her eyes at the leg of the desk.

Her eyes flickered once to his to survey his reaction. “With muggles, for fun,” she murmured before growing silent once more.

Sexual liberation, then, he heaved a sigh. Things he had imagined were far worse. It was understandable, considering the repressive culture of the purebloods she grew up in.

He approached the girl that was still squirming, ready to be scolded. Without the sexual boldness that drove her to the ecstasy of bringing men to her knees, she looked far smaller. He thought he was able to see the remnants of Y/L/N that he knew from before.

His fingers delicately tilted her chin up. Fear swirled those large doe eyes as they looked up at him. Pleading. Begging to still entrust her as one of his most trusted knights.

“Come to my room tonight,” Tom murmured. His eyes flickered briefly to her lips, reminded by their close proximity of their heated exchange. “I’ll show you the real meaning of having fun.”

She allowed herself a sigh of relief, knowing that she was still in good standing.

Tom returned with a pat on her arm, his palm lingering. His eyes, however, gave a menacing glint one last time before leaving her with the words, “Don’t disappoint me, Y/L/N.”

A/N: So sorry this took so long! I hope you liked it :) Unlike my series dedicated to dom!Tom or sub!Tom, I wanted to try to balance both elements to illustrate the complex power dynamic between the reader and Tom. Sidenote: Apparently, most of the current British nobilities are descended from Norman-French origins (since the Duke William of Normandy defeated the Anglo-Saxon King in 1066). Which might also explain why the Black family's motto is French "Toujours Pur." So, decided to make their pureblood supremacist song French. Apologies if my French translation was inaccurate!

#tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle jr #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fic #tom riddle #tmr #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle au #touch-starved tom riddle #dom!tom riddle #sub!tom riddle #Karenina's requests

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 months

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Hey I would like to request a good omens Crowley x reader angsty sad fic where they are pining over him but he loves aziraphale and they don’t want to interfere. Kind of Laufey’s song Let You Break My Heart Again vibes. Thx!!❤️

"Why couldn't I have what THEY had, [y/n]?! Maybe it's...it's all part of God's great ineffable plan! As if fallin' weren't enough...y'know? Why not allow him to walk outta my life and crawl back to the other angelss, too? Keep fuckin' me over, I suppose. This must be karma, I swear.."

"Crowley.." You began, only to stop as the demon on the other end of the line continued his drunken sorrowful ramblings.

He was still clearly hurting, and you were his only company left.

The only one who knew about him and Aziraphale and everything they've done together for the past 6,000 years.

You've been around for a thousand or so, not aligned with Heaven nor Hell, but living as a simple immortal being.

However, only very recently have you learned that they've in fact known each other since the very dawn of Creation.

So their history goes way back.

It's no secret that Crowley's been pining after the angel all these years, forced to pretend he hates him just because he was on the "opposite side".

But he was sick of doing all of that, and finally got the courage to tell him how he really felt. He begged him to stay, to stop taking sides, and to think about just them for once.

In the end, Aziraphale still chose the side that shunned him for conspiring with a demon, halting Armageddon, and hiding Gabriel on Earth...all because he was offered a higher position of power and couldn't so easily let go of Heaven.

Not as easily as Crowley could. He couldn't understand that, or why Gabriel and Beelzebub could go off together and they couldn't.

Now you were here, having to comfort the very same demon that you've fallen in love with yourself.

It felt like such a selfish desire, knowing that you haven't lived nearly as long as either of them. You weren't there at the beginning of Everything. You weren't there at the Garden of Eden.

You could never fully understand their deep-rooted bond.

There's no way he would ever see you in a remotely similar light.

Even still, the heart wants what it wants..even if it's unobtainable.

"Listen, Crowley.." You tried speaking again. "I'm next in line, do you want anything?"

Perhaps that was rather poorly worded, as you heard a sniffle and what sounded like him holding back a sob. "I just want him to come back.." His voice broke.

There was that feeling again, constricting your human heart with pain.

It was such a fickle organ, you often thought. It kept people alive, yet when put through emotional toil..it felt like it was killing them, and they wanted nothing more than to rip it out of their chest to be rid of the pain.

But right in this moment, you felt like that because deep down...you wish he instead said that he wanted-

"W-Wait..you're..at that café 'cross the bookshop, right?" You heard Crowley mumble. "I'll get the usual..assuming she remembers. Actually...don't bother-"

"It's fine, Crow. It'll be my treat. I'm getting something, too...not that we actually need it. But we both enjoy it, right?"

"...right." He chuckled depressingly. "Fine. I'll be outside."

That was a surprise, although when you briefly glanced outside the window of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, you noticed the Bentley parked next to the sidewalk. You sighed, hanging up the phone before you stepped up to the register, smiling at Nina.

"Hello, Nina. I'll have my usual..and Mr. Crowley's, too. Six espresso shots, was it? And one of those [favorite flavor] pies, pretty please." You pointed to the menu.

"On it." She nodded, already getting to work on your order. "You know, I haven't seen that chap around in a while. How's he holding up? I heard he took it pretty hard."

"Yeah." You muttered, recalling how you've talked to her about your own feelings for Crowley.

You weren't expecting a human to solve the relationship woes of immortal beings when she herself was going through her own issues.

She worried that her and Maggie's little "intervention" caused the demon and angel to split up, but you didn't blame her. And neither did Crowley, although he was torn between wishing he didn't kiss Aziraphale and wondering if he'd regret not doing that at all.

He hasn't been back at the coffee shop since.

"Well, do you plan to tell him anytime soon?"

You nearly choked on your own spit. "N-Nina...I..I can't just do that. He clearly doesn't see me that way. He talks about him every day and night. I've stayed up past midnight consoling him, letting him stay with me the moment I learned he's sleeping outta his car. But...it's him he loves, not me. And I can't interfere with that..it would be wrong."

"Then...what's your plan from here?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"..I'm not sure anymore. I guess hope that one day..I'll stop falling in love with him. Maybe his angel will come back and everything will be as it was."

"Sounds like wishful thinking at this point, but I'm sure things will work out. Maybe he'll move on."

"I doubt it, but time will tell."

"Right." After finishing the drinks, she set them down into a cupholder, before giving you the pie as well. You paid and bid her farewell before heading out of the café and to the Bentley.

Inside, you saw Crowley sulking, lost in thought until you knocked on the passenger's window. He sat up with a start, fixing his glasses when he realized it was you. "S-Sorry."

The door opened, and you slid inside, passing him the tall cup with tons of espresso shots. "It's okay. So..where did you wanna go today?"

"I was thinkin'..St. James Park. Feel like I've been neglecting the ducks for far too long."

You blinked. 'Wasn't that..his and Aziraphale's thing-?'

"Yeah, I know..it...was our thing." He responded as though he read your mind. "'s just..been so lonely without him to chatter to. I hate siting all alone on that bench. But it's not like I can just walk Upstairs and tell him to screw all of them, right?"

"Sadly..no." Shaking your head, you glanced over your shoulder at the plants he's shoved into his backseat. Closest to you was a venus fly trap that had spots and other flaws, looking rather frail and wilted and sad.

Not too different from how its owner felt.

You smiled sadly and stroked the top of its head with your thumb, feeling it cease its trembles. Its mouth closed as it seemed to...purr?

How cute.

"Well would ya look at that...ya even treat the bloody things the same as he did.."

You tensed, looking back to Crowley and frowning upon seeing the tears sliding down his cheeks. But he was quick to wipe them away once you noticed them, yet a sniffle still managed to escape him.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep doing stuff that reminds you of him.." You set a hand on his back. "Do you...want me to drive?"

"No, it's fine.." He shook his head, sniffling loudly one last time before he managed to pull himself together. "Let's just..go."

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee and a small bite of your pie, before you reached for the radio-

However, you forgot that the Bentley was sentient, instead turning it on for you and playing a song that nearly made you choke once again.

"--All I've had is coffee and leftover pie. It's no wonder why. Ooooh, still you take up all my mind. I don't even think that you care like I do. I should stop, Heaven knows I've tried..."

Even Crowley froze as he listened to the lyrics.

And not because it wasn't a Queen song.

"One day, I will stop falling in love with you."

Neither of you spoke a word, instead staring at the dashboard with looks of sadness upon your faces. You thought he would've changed the song by now, but...when you looked over, you could see his glasses now resting on the bridge of his nose.

His golden irises have almost completely taken over the whites of his eyes.

What little you saw of them..

Were growing redder and glossier.

"Some day, someone will like me like I like you."

You felt your own eyes start to sting, too, so you looked away and opted to pet the venus fly trap that was nuzzling your hand, clearly asking for more much-needed affection.

Sentient plants were easy to comfort.

If only your demon friend could be the same way..

If only you could show him that you wished to be more than just friends..but this simply wasn't your place to tell him that.

Not here, not now...and possibly not ever. For as long as you lived on this mortal plane.

All you could hope was that one day, the feeling will pass.

If Aziraphale came back, things might be better. You wished the idiot would at least check in with you both once in a while so you knew he was alive.

If that's the last time you hear from him, well....you weren't sure if Crowley would ever want to try loving again after what he's suffered through. He poured his heart out, only for it to get broken and stomped on before being left all alone on Earth.

He couldn't go through that again.

And you didn't wanna say anything about how you felt for the centuries you've known him. He could very well perceive that as you trying to replace him and ruin this friendship.

The wounds in his heart are still clearly fresh..and they likely will be for a long, long time.

For now, you'll just be by his side and be mindful. Perhaps he'll eventually realize how you felt about him...but you doubt it.

"Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie. Pretend we are more than friends. Then of course, I'll let you break my heart again-"

Crowley's hand suddenly shot towards the button, the car filling with an abrupt silence as he shut off the music. Then he switched between several Queen songs, eyebrows furrowed as none of them seemed to suit his current mood.

If Queen didn't make him happy anymore...he was seriously in emotional distraught.

But eventually he settled for "Somebody to Love", and you smiled, wiping your eyes as you leaned back in the seat. "Good choice."

He nodded absentmindedly, before finally driving off to the park after adjusting his glasses.

No further words were exchanged. You didn't even scold him for speeding down the tightly-knitted roads of London. That's the last thing he needed right now.

Especially since you picked up that habit from Aziraphale.

But even as Freddie's voice reverberated through the Bentley, you two couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics of Laufey's song and what it meant to both of you.

Yet the people it reminded you of...were completely different.

#ough i listened to this song on repeat while editing this </3 #hurts like a bish #clanask #good omens x reader #good omens 2 spoilers #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #immortal reader #angst

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chrkrose · 7 months

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Okay so just a rando ask, I was reading through the posts on your page,, and I came to thinking

If daemon truly abandoned Rhaenyra, why didn't he just run away with nettles? Why did he have to still fight for team black when he could have just flown else where with her? Rhaenyra would have met her own end inevitably. I’m no daemyra shipper, I’m not a daemon fan either it just doesn't add up. He sacrificed his life to get rid of the biggest threat of team green? Wouldn't it be fair to assume it was for Rhaenyra? Or atleast his children.

Now this is just my personal opinion, he loved nettles, yes (she's awesome who wouldn't 😩) but he also bore some love for Rhaenyra (she’s mommy🥰) as well. He chose to let go of nettles to protect her because he loved her. He chose to fight for Rhaenyra because in the end of the day he loved her and wanted to prove his loyalty to her (but wasn’t actually faithful lol)

Daemon in his Katherine era 💀💀💀💅 blurry ass pic

He died for her cause if not for her in the end of the day. Well atleast that’s what I think 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

I don’t believe in the theory that he fled with nettles, it just sort of feels out of character for him, to leave his children, Aegon the younger in the clutches of Aegon ii. Daemon imo would scream his head off if he knew his first born son was captured by Aegon ii, and somehow work up some scheme to get back into the game and possibly overthrow Aegon ii. And it just seems unlikely he survived the fall as well.

Daemon is a complicated and morally grey character, but like any character he has his merits and he has his flaws. I think his love life would be as complex as he is, conflicted by both duty and love.

I hope I make sense lol, I want to know your thoughts.

Ok, so first thanks for being normal even if you have a different opinion. Usually, I always get a bunch of people screaming at me lmao. It's cool to have rational discussions even if in the end the parts just agree in disagree. Now, back to the points you brought. I still disagree lol. Imo, Daemon didn't die for the cause, much less for Rhaenyra or his children. I'm gonna break down why I think this argument makes no sense whatsoever:

Fire & Blood never implies that Daemon had a close relationship or even cared that much for his children. He didn't hate them or anything, but we have no canon basis to say he was a fatherly type where he thought of his children that much or was willing to make huge sacrifices for them. This is fandom projection 101. So to say he did what he did thinking of his children is a stretch IMO.

Aemond wasn't Rhaenyra's biggest threat at the time. Her biggest threat was Daeron and the Southron army he had assembled. It's canon. "And yet, the greatest threat to Rhaenyra's reign was not Aemond One-Eye, but his younger brother, Prince Daeron The Daring, and the great southron army led by Lord Ormund Hightower." And that was before Ulf and Hugh's betrayal and before Rhaenyra alienated Addam by declaring him a traitor as well. So even if Rhaenyra didn't say anything about that in the letter to Daemon (which I doubt, since she was sending the letter to demand Nettles' death, so she sure talked about the dragonseeds' betrayal), Daemon knew about that already. He knew that without him, she was fucked, because she would have only Tyraxes and Syraxes on Team Black's side, and you can exclude Syraxes since Rhaenyra wouldn't go into battle. He knew all of that. He still chose to die anyway.

About running away with Nettles, a few things to consider. As long as he was with Nettles, she wouldn't be safe. If he runs away with her and Rhaenyra somehow wins the war, she will send for him. He would be a traitor, she'd never forgive that. If Rhaenyra loses, Team Green is definitely going after him. He would be a threat to the throne, they would never let them live. The best way to protect Nettles is to send her away alone. Besides that, regardless of what happened, if he ran away with her, he would never be able to return home and I doubt Daemon was keen on living on the run forever. It doesn't fit him.

It seemed like he was tired of war, tired of the scheming, tired of fighting. Even before I reached the point where he makes the decisions he makes, I felt his narrative shifting, and his time in Maidenpool with Nettles looked much more like a vacation to him and a respite than a mission. He seemed happy with Nettles, and happy with that bubble he created for them, but once reality burst that, he seemed done with everything. This is also sort of corroborated by his dialogue with Aemond, where he agrees he has lived for too long.

The narrative in any way frames his final battle with Aemond as something he is doing for the cause. Daemon might have gone through a somewhat redemption arc, but he's still very much a selfish man and someone who would never go down in any other way than not an epic way because he is "the rogue prince". His showdown with Aemond is written as something about both of them as characters whose arcs are mirrored at every turn, finally culminating in their final encounter, and written as Daemon's big send-off.

The narrative specifically frames his final act as a betrayal through Rhaenyra's lens, further corroborating all that was set up before, something that is narratively satisfying to the reader because at this point she's very much the villain instead of the hero. We have seen her burning bridges, behaving poorly with the smallfolk, and being unfair with allies, culminating in her acts against Addam, Nettles, and Corlys, and overestimating her hand to the point of being arrogant in her certainty that Daemon would come back to be with her after murdering an innocent woman. Until this point, Daemon and Nettles have been written as a romantic arc, one that ends in heartbreak, specifically because of Rhaenyra. So we have this moment of satisfaction when Rhaenyra realizes that even though she did everything she did, and she was so certain she would win, she actually lost. He left her. He betrayed her.

The story leaving the "possibility" that Daemon could have survived and gone to find his way toward Nettles serves to show where his loyalty truly lies, and where his heart is, in life or death. If anything, to believe he went on a suicide mission because he couldn't stand being apart from Nettles is a much more acceptable and logical conclusion of his final choices than the bizarre cope that is the "he died for Rhaenyra, for his children, or for the cause".

Finally, I don't think he loved both because I don't think he ever loved Rhaenyra tbh. Not like he loved Nettles or Laena. An argument can be made that he loves Rhaenyra in the show adaptation (although I disagree about that medium, but this is for another post). But in the book, it's very clear that she's not on top or even second in his list of "women I romantically loved most in my criminal life". I say Nettles comes first because his love for her seemed to come from a genuine place of wonderment and affection, with no hidden agenda behind it. Laena comes close behind because even though we don't know if he indeed fell for her or if he married her to advance politically after his recent downfall from power at the time, he clearly came to love her very much in the years they were together and was happy in their marriage. I say even Mysaria might come first to him than Rhaenyra, he clearly cared for her for a while and was very upset when they lost their baby. The only person beneath Rhaenyra is Rhea because he clearly hates Rhea. In the books, Daemon groomed and wanted to use Rhaenyra to get back at his brother/get closer to the throne and later they combined their shared vision and aligned political ambitions in a marriage that was beneficial to both of them. Obviously, there was physical attraction (and co-dependency on Rhaenyra's part), but love? I don't think so.

#Nettles #Daemon Targaryen #Nettles x Daemon #Anti Rhaenyra Targaryen

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edgy-ella · 6 months

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I think the Fnaf movie (and all the sequels it will inevitably get) is a great way to see what Scott views as the most important aspect of each character in the series.

Spoilers below.

Obviously, Mike and Vanessa are both very different here than in the games. Mike is (PROBABLY) no longer an Afton, Vanessa is definitely an Afton, Mike isn’t going by an alias, Vanessa is a victim of abuse rather than possession, etc.

In some regard, they almost feel like completely different characters (especially Mike). So with that in mind, when we look at the traits that these characters do share with their game counterparts, we can boil these characters down to their fundamentals (or at least what Scott views as their fundamentals)

Mike is riddled with guilt over the death of his brother, which he feels like he should have been able to prevent. Even well into his adulthood, long after the deed is done, he is still trying to fix what he perceives as blood on his hands, whether that is the case or not. This guilt often manifests as vivid dreams.

Vanessa is William’s reluctant follower. She has been manipulated into supporting him, even though she knows deep down how wrong her actions are for helping him. To aid him in his exploits, she takes up a career in a position of authority that lets her inconspicuously hang out around Freddy’s.

On a personal note, I think it’s interesting that these are the traits that Scott chose to emphasize between the two characters. While Mike’s relationship with his brother is definitely a strong part of what makes his character interesting, I’d argue that it is better executed in the games because there, he actually did cause his brother’s death and has reason to feel guilty over it. I also think that Michael’s dynamic with William is just as important as his relationship with Evan/Garrett/the Crying Child—William is Michael’s shadow archetype, he represents the absolute worst of what Michael could be. The movie completely lacks this dynamic, which makes their beef feel less personal despite the fact that William did kill Michael’s brother in this timeline (though I’d argue that that’s more the fault of the fact that William only has THREE SCENES in the movie total)

Movie Vanessa fares better, but mostly because she absorbs a lot of Michael’s role from the games by virtue of being an Afton child that lived past adolescence. I personally prefer her role as William’s successor rather than as a reluctant follower; copycat killers are a staple of the horror genre, and we are severely lacking in batshit crazy, irredeemable female villains in both movies and video games. That’s more what I was hoping Vanny would end up being in Security Breach, but I also acknowledge that that’s 100% just me projecting.

Unlike the two protagonists, though, William stays mostly the same between the movie, the games, and the books. I think it’s interesting that they chose to continue the trend of giving him an alias to hide under, while his real name is something of a dirty word because of everything he did. We notably don’t have proof that he did this in the games, and it’s got me thinking. Is there a named character mentioned somewhere in the games that’s actually just William under a fake name?

Who knows. Get speculating!

#Fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #michael afton #mike schmidt #vanessa afton #vanessa shelly #fnaf vanny #william afton #purple guy #ella essays

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dreamfyre03 · 3 months

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A Dragon's Love

Author's Note: First time posting on tumblr, so please go easy on me, I hope you like this fic<3 Also, this fic is heavily team green, so if that's not your thing, this is a warning.

Trigger Warnings (for this chapter): Brief mentions of violence (tourneys), childbirth, death, I think that's it but if there's more I missed please let me know.

Chapter 1: Born from Tragedy next part

As the sounds of knights riding their horses and lances bashing into shields filled the air, at the great tourney to celebrate the birth of what would hopefully be the son of King Viserys, his wife, Queen Aemma, laid in the childbed, crying out as her body swam in the depths of a pain the gods cruelly decided only women would bear.

The babe was in breech, and there was very little that could be done. King Viserys was given a choice; cut the babe out of his wife, and gain a possible son, but loose his beloved Aemma, or leave it to the gods to decide. The King chose to play god instead, and gave the order. The Queen caught on to what was happening, and as she was held down by an army of nurses, and her own husband, her lasts words were short, yet so profound they would go on the haunt King Viserys until he too met the stranger; “No.”

More disappointment was yet to come, for now the Queen was dead, and the boy the King so longed for was in fact not a boy, but a girl, a daughter. A screaming, pink, healthy babe, but she was just a girl. Viserys could hardly look at her, for shame of what he had done. The little girl looked up at her father, who struggled to even look at her, without seeing the face of his now dead wife in hers.

“And what will she be called, Your Grace?” The Maester cut the silence by asking the King. “Daenys. Princess Daenys Targaryen.” He answered, as he handed off the babe to her nurses, for in his guilt the King could not look at her any longer.

In a mere matter of months later, the King married the Lady Alicent Hightower, dearest friend and companion to his daughter, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. It was an act the destroyed the once unbreakable friendship between the two girls, and now the young Rhaenyra had yet another reason to loathe her new baby sister; she killed her mother, and consequently, made her lose her best friend.

Thus, the sweet baby Daenys was left seemingly alone in the world; no mother, a father that couldn’t bear to look at her, and a sister that bore no love for her. Indeed, the gods can be cruel.

Months after the marriage of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, the Queen was found to be with child, and soon gave the King his much wanted son, and they called him Aegon. Of course, at this point to Viserys, this changed nothing, as he had already named his daughter Rhaenyra as heir. At first many saw it as a temporary action to secure the line of succession, and to disinherit his younger brother, Prince Daemon. But it was clearly much more than that, and some might say it was his way of righting the wrong he did to the only woman he ever loved, his first wife Aemma, by naming their daughter Rhaenyra the first woman as the heir to the Iron Throne. If only he knew what sorrow that choice would reign upon the House of the Dragon.

The Princess Rhaenyra soon married Ser Leanor Velaryon, son of Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Time passed and passed, and Rhaenyra never showed a drop of kindness to her little sister, who tried to follow her around as soon as she could walk. The coldness from her sister and the slowly but surely depreciating health of her father saw the Princess Daenys in the care of Queen Alicent. She wasn’t always warm and kind, like many might expect a mother to be, but she grew a special affection for her step daughter. In turn, little Daenys felt the same for her step mother, and, her half siblings. Daenys and Aegon were about the same age, and as they grew, were inseparable. When Helaena came along, and they were about two and one respectively, Aegon cried at the deviation of attention from him to his new sister, but Daenys took to baby Helaena right away. When Prince Aemond was born a year later, Daenys loved her siblings with all her heart, even as the little girl kept longing for the love and acceptance of her older sister.

Thirteen years later

Daenys sat with her sister Helaena, who was whispering indecipherable words as she allowed the many legged creature to crawl about her hands. Daenys did not care for the many insects her sister seemed to adore so, but she never said anything because she knew there was not much that brought her sister such peace of mind, even if it meant having all sorts of bugs in display containers in their shared rooms.

She watched as Queen Alicent attempted to lend a comforting touch to her daughter, but Helaena tensed, and it was clear she did not want to be touched, as had been the case since her betrothal to their brother Aegon. Feeling bad for her stepmother, Daenys walked over and said, “Your Grace, perhaps a walk in the fresh air might do Helaena some good?” Alicent looked up affectionately at Daenys and smiled sadly, responding, “Yes, that’s a good idea my dear.” As the two princesses got up to make their way out, the doors burst open and Aemond ran in, straight into his mother’s embrace and he went on angrily, “They gave me a pig!”

“What?” Alicent asked as she tried to calm down her son. “They gave me a pig to ride!” He yelled, shaking with anger. Daenys did not hear the words of comfort whispered by his mother, but did hear Helaena whisper, “He’ll have to close an eye.”

Alicent then left, no doubt to reprimand Aegon, and Aemond stalked over to his sisters, and passed them to sit by the window, in a quiet anger. Daenys turned to Helaena, but before she could speak Helaena already knew and whispered, “Go ahead, sister.” Daenys smiled kindly, Helaena always knew what she was thinking. Daenys walked over to where Aemond sat and joined him quietly, and asked, “Are you alright?”

“They gave me a pig, Aegon and those bastard Strongs. How is it fair that the bastards have a dragon and I don’t? I’m a true Targaryen, and yet I have no dragon.” He huffed as he looked out the window. Daenys took his hand in hers and said, “Aegon is a fool, and often doesn’t know when enough is enough. I believe you’ll have a dragon on day, Aemond. It’ll be a marvellous dragon, that puts the others to shame.” At this, her brother turned to look at her and asked, “Even Meraxa?” Referring to Daenys’s own dragon, who was incredibly large, larger than Dreamfyre, with beautiful white and red scales. Daenys gave him a smile that put him at ease, and replied, “Hmm, well we shall have to see. I wonder if any dragon can put my Meraxa to shame. But until you claim one that can, you can ride with me on Meraxa any time you want.”

Aemond smiled slightly and tightened his hand around hers. Later that day, when the sun was setting, Daenys made her way to her older sister’s apartments, to wish her congratulations on the birth of her new babe, Joffery.

She knocked on the door, until she heard her sister’s voice call out, “Enter!”

Daenys pushed the door open and walked in to the sight of Rhaenyra sitting tiredly on the settee in her rooms, as she rocked baby Joffery.

“Sister, I come to wish you congratulations on the birth of Prince Joffery.” She said, as Rhaenyra barely glanced at her. “Thank you, Daenys.” Was all she said, and rather coldly at that. But Daenys was used to it. Her sister had never warmed up to her, always seeing Daenys as the one that killed her mother, and ruined her friendship with Alicent, and the years hadn’t softened how she felt about Daenys. Yet, despite the continuing effort she always made with Rhaenyra, she had seemingly already hardened her heart to the younger girl, and had no desire to have any relationship with her.

“I trust your labours were alright? And little Joffery is well?” She pressed, hoping for something, anything other than the coldness Rhaenyra always gave her, but as always, nothing came.

“They were alright. Joffery is quite well. Labours can be quite strenuous, as I’m sure you know.” Rhaenyra replied emotionlessly. They both knew she meant it not in the sense that Daenys had birthed children of her own, but that she was the cause of their mother’s untimely death in the childbed.

Daenys fought the tears that sprung up in her eyes, and simply said, “Indeed. Well, I bid you good day, sister.” As she walked out of the rooms. Rhaenyra hadn’t bothered to even bid her goodbye. Daenys lets her tears begin to fall down her face, and she quietly stifled her sobs as she made her way to the Godswood. She knew that it would be dark soon, and that she should go to her rooms with Helaena, but she preferred to be alone for a moment, if only to shed her tears in peace.

Once, when she was twelve, she tried to ask Rhaenyra about their mother, which resulted in an awful exchange between the two, which led to Rhaenyra berating her cruelly, and Daenys crying and running to find comfort in the arms of Alicent, which only angered Rhaenyra even more. The memory came back to Daenys as she sat under the Godswood tree, watching the sky turn to night, nothing but the sound of her quiet sobs and sniffles in the air.

“Daenys?” She heard a familiar voice call out to her. She wiped her tears away quickly and saw Aemond approach. “What’s the matter?” He asked as he sat next to her. She loved her younger brother, although he always put on a tough face, he had a kind heart. While Aegon was loud and boisterous, ever seeking attention, Aemond was always in the shadows, yet he always stood out to her.

“Nothing, truly.” She replied, sniffling. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you can’t tell me things. It’s alright. You comforted me earlier, I only wish to comfort you now.” He said with a slightly nervous voice. Daenys smiled at him sadly. “I went to see Rhaenyra. I just wanted to congratulate her on the babe.” She told him, and Aemond scoffed, “Ah yes, the newest Strong bastard.” Despite their sister’s cruelty to her, Daenys reprimanded him with a playful touch and said, “She wasn’t too happy to see me. She never is. I suppose I am a fool to keep trying, when I am to blame for our mother’s passing.”

“You’re not. Rhaenyra is a fool, and you are the best sister ever. But don’t tell Helaena,” he comforted her with a smile, and she giggled.

“Do not blame yourself. It is not your fault. You didn’t ask to be born, you could not control what happened that day, you were only a babe.” Aemond reassured her, and she chastely kissed him on the forehead and said, “Since when did my little brother become so wise?” Aemond rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll be a man soon, sister. And Daeron is quite younger than me.” Daenys laughed, “True, but Daeron isn’t here is he? So then, I’m afraid you’re little brother until we see him next.” Aemond shook his head, attempting to hide his smile, as the two siblings sat together, under the Godswood, talking and laughing until they were found and summoned back into the castle once more.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #the owl house #house of the dragon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen #aemond smut #original character

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merrysithmas · 11 months

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If pressed to choose, who do you think Anakin would choose between Obi-Wan and Padmé? Do you think that choice would change depending on the circumstances?

Hands down Obi-wan. Even if you don't ship them, even platonically this is pretty much canon.

And I say this because that's literally WHAT he was doing by remaining in the Jedi Order (which he had severe issues with). Sure, Anakin loved the heroism and was beholden to the promise made to his mother that he would remain in the Order. And yes, he truly was a good person who valued doing good and his Jedi training -- however, it is undeniable that interwoven in ALL those things was... Obi-wan.

Obi-wan who was his cogeneral in the Clone Wars, the two of them side-by-side known as the faces of the Front.

Obi-wan who promised to train him so he could fulfill his mother's wish.

Obi-wan who seemed to so easily exemplify the great Jedi mediators he knew he could never be.

Obi-wan who was essentially Anakin's walking-talking moral compass.

Anakin didn't leave, despite his marriage, despite his children, despite his deepening disgust with the Order because of Obi-wan (and Ahsoka).

Anakin loved being a Jedi but what he loved more was being a Jedi with his Jedi family (Obi and Soka).

This was a major source of mental contention for him - choosing between these two "families" he created in equal but opposite worlds. His marriage to Padme, who was directly linked to his mother's death (she was the only one who knew he murdered the Tuskens, so the only one he felt forgiveness with) and so he refused to let go of her. He saw Padme as a Judge of the moral fortitude of his curated jedi knight Image. If Padme, stalwart guardian of the lawful Senate, forgave him for this atrocious crime - then surely he wasn't a monster.

And on the other hand was his "marriage" to Obi-wan, an uncommon war-borne partnership resulting in the Padawan they both trained and the war they bore on their backs. Their closeness was highly unusual for the Order - but the Order couldnt do much about it given their reliance on them as generals and the chaotic state of the Republic. A lot of oversight seems to have fallen away, and I'm sure a part of all those on the Front felt closer to their compatriots and the clones than the Council comfortable in Coruscant, as they trudged tirelessly and endlessly through distant worlds fighting tooth and nail in the trenches.

If pressed to choose, which he essentially was (and Sidious manipulated his years-long strife) he would pick Obi-wan. He proved this by not leaving - even though by all accounts he should have and simply started his own Order. Something was keeping him there and it wasn't just the war or the heroics - Anakin couldn't leave Obi-wan.

There are numerous instances of your exact question in canon such as in Stover's novel where Anakin ponders if he loves Obiwan "more than his wife" at Sidious' pressing. Also the Son on Mortis revealing himself in the image of Anakin's mother Shmi and saying that Padme was not his true love but essentially a lie -- a pretty damn harsh summation put to screen if you ask me.

Anakin struggled with the choice between Obi-wan and Padme (and what they represented) for YEARS til the very end at Mustafar, when finally, at his mental breaking point - he chose himself.

And Sidious was counting on that.

#ask #anon #obikin #sw ask #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi

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