#assistant coach hottie

[zepskies]

Don’t mind me, just rewatching season 4 of Smallville for this delight. 😂

JENSEN ACKLES AS JASON TEAGUE | SMALLVILLE

[lholland14]

Error: Name Unknown

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: When you vs the Paige Bueckers in her own game, but don't know who she is.

Warnings: Somewhat suggestive? Also, I have no idea who most of the UCONN basketball team is SORRYYYY I JUST FOUND OUT PAIGE AND IM OBBSESSED!! Also this isn't edited so if you find anything pls tell me and I'll fix it.

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The annual Sport Swap, the day where all UCONN athletes show off their athletic ability by playing other UCONN teams of different sports in different games. The staff would randomly choose two teams to face off in a series of random sports determined by a spinning wheel. 

It was electrifying.  

It was your day, as someone who played soccer, this day was a chance to show off. You were a newer athlete, but that didn't mean you weren't popular, fans began noticing you after pulling of a 2 goal comeback and an assist against St. John in the last 15 minutes of the game winning 3-2. Ever since then you were highly regarded as the "Comeback Kid" of UCONN and was shortly named captain, even with that title though, Paige Bueckers was the one to watch. Winning award after award, game after game, heart after heart.

"Okay! Everyone gather around!" Your coach yelled into the clamouring locker room, "The competition is out and I think you're gonna be happy about it this year!" 

You and your teammates sprung out of the tightly packed locker room and into the meeting room with a slide show on titled "SPORTS SWAP". As soon as everyone was settled down your coach lectured you all on being good sports and how everyone is winners. 

To be honest, you had tuned out long before he had began talking. He finally garnered your attention when it was time to reveal who you were playing.

He clicked a button and he slide switch to reveal the highly anticipated words, "UCONN WOMEN'S SOCCER VS WOMEN'S BASKETBALL" 

Your teammates paled at the though of having to compete against the 6ft tall team of total hotties, you, however, didn't understand the fear. Being a younger player in a much more rigorous major you didn't get out much, in fact you never went out, or watched a lot of TV, including certain games starring a certain blonde haired girl. 

Your coach began ushering your solum team into the basketball court where the girl's basketball team was waiting to hear what sports you'd all be playing. The moment you opened the court's doors your team was welcomed with loud music, laughter and cringy dances by the basketball team. 

You smiled, but on the inside you hated it, you hated how cocky they were. You never met them, or seen or watched them, but you hated them. Their smirks and loud music in a dominant way to show that they simply didn't care. 

They knew that they would win. All you and your team was to them was dust on the pedestals. Tattered challengers  standing before gods, someone they could merely dismiss without a thought. 

Your blood boiled at this, and with a defiant look and steeled nerves you asked your teammates who the most famous one is out of the group.

"Paige Bueckers, she's the blond one with braids." Your friend replied staring heart eyes at the 6ft tall girl with piercing blue eyes. You simply rolled your eyes in response, earning a shove from the girl.

"Settle down everyone!" Geno yelled, "I'll be spinning the wheel soon to determine what sports we will be playing today." The basketball girl's screeched in response, yours remaining dead silent.

He began spinning the wheel landing on ice hockey (cue the groans), cheerleading (out of the corner of your eye you could see a younger girl joking rub shoulders with the blue blue eyed blondie you were told about earlier) and finally, basketball.

The final spin landed on basketball, you could visibly see your teammates hearts sink as the other girls erupted in screams. Geno turned to us in apology offering to do another spin, just as your teammates agreed to this you asserted a cold no.

He sighed, and told us to skate up.

~~HOCKEY~~

You had to admit, it was pretty funny to see both teams just slide across the ice in various positions (none of them correct). Both teams not even bothering to play anymore, just running out the clock in order to show off their "skill". 

By skill you meant how long one could stay standing, and that record was held by a girl named KK on the basketball team, her record? 15 seconds. Other various skills included how many players one person could take out in the least amount of time currently held by you.

It just happened so fast, one minute you were standing hunched, arms sprayed out in hopes for finding balance, but instead finding the stomach of a certain blonde haired girl and the mouth of you teammate. Desperately needing balance you accidentally swung out and clutched onto the girl, effectively knocking your teammate onto the ground. However, Bueckers wasn't so balanced herself and began skating backwards due to the sudden force your body had. With each backward step you two knocked down three other played before tripping over a random 6'3 body.

Landing softly, thanks to girl whose shoulders you were clinging onto, whose hands are on your thighs that were currently straddling her waist. As you slowly lifted up your sweaty body from hers you felt the shock that came from unconsciously grinding on her abs after her shirt rode up. The shock sent waves of red onto both yours and hers face, breathing heavily you stood back up, and stuck your hand out to help the blonde haired girl. She sheepishly grinned in response, the cocky smirk wiped from her face and onto yours.

You didn't even notice the long forgotten puck sliding slowly into your goal.

Point Basketball team.

~~CHEERLEADING~~ 

"Lets gooooo!!!" KK screamed the moment we entered the gym. As you continue walking to the middle of the gym you could feel the intensity of Paige's eyes at the back of your head. Was she really check you out? With your mind of occupied by the blue eyed beauty you failed to notice the pom poms set out by Geno, and because you're a tad dramatic ...you screamed, thinking it was a spider.

Both teams erupted in laughter as your teammates ran to help you up, heat rushing to your face due to embarrassment, not because you can still feel the heat of Paige's hands on your waist, and definitely not because the same girl was staring at you with a lopsided smile. 

"Well, I guess Y/n has volunteered her team to go first!" Geno clapped your coach's back with a grin, while the rest of your team groaned and walked over to the pom poms. After 20 minutes of practice, trying to choose a song and props your team was ready and rearing to go. 

With you donning ridiculous white sunglasses and a plastic poofy skirt, you took your place at the center of the gym. The moment the music Apple Bottom Jeans played you started dancing, only stopping when a teammate fell or was laughing too hard to continue, finally ending with the last pose, one hand on your hip and the other in the air with smug eyes and a goofy smile.

Honestly, Paige didn't know if it was hot or the most adorable thing she has ever seen. The way your curved hips swayed with the music, or how the skirt was showing off your ass perfectly. Your goofy smile and the way you were the first to help a teammate, either way, Paige Bueckers was hooked. 

Her teammates could tell too, the way she would just gravitate towards you, how she would look at you for approval when she did a move correctly, tripping over her feet the moment your eyes locked into her's. 

And thanks to your quick observational skills, point you.

Well, Point Soccer team.

~~Basketball~~

The court was buzzing with excitement, with countless students coming in just to see Paige the basketball team dominate a team no one has heard of, but with your 5'7 frame and hidden skills you were determined to win. Unbeknownst to the basketball girls, your team actually played basketball frequently, practicing teamwork, communication and trick shots. Along with UCONN had offered you both a soccer and basketball full ride scholarship, but no one knew about that. 

After both teams came out it was clear to everyone who the audience preferred, the moment Paige came out the students cheered and you were pretty sure you could here girls begging Paige to fuck them. You'd be lying if you hadn't had that exact same though ping through your head at least once today. 

With you facing off for the ball against a someone named Aaliyah, you didn't even bother jumping against her 6'3 frame, instead opting to go behind her in order to steal the ball from KK. The moment the ball was in your grasp you hurled the ball towards the basket, and a loud buzzer played, signifying the bucket you just made. The crowd was dead silent, then cheered so loudly, you fell out of surprise, falling right into Paige.. again. 

"That was insane ma," She murmured against your eye, her hot breath fanning your neck causing you to shiver involuntarily. You just bowed your head in response to the praise, heat spreading to your face and to your core.

With the crowd not settling down anytime soon, you returned to your position. Nodding to your teammates in unison. You had a game plan, you had each others backs and you were going to win. 

With multiple well timed passes, a couple of threes and some insane dunks preformed by your team, you were well ahead of the actual basketball team. 

And they were pissed.

Paige was laughing and cheering and smiling, until, she wasn't. Until she started to get annoyed how you were beating her. She was the record breaker, you weren't. She was a god at this school, you, well you were a nobody.

After you had just scored a three that Paige thought was hot, she started guarding you more closely.

"Who are you?" You breathed out behind her body, trying to block you from getting the ball.

"Paige, Paige Bueckers" She managed to gasp out, her body was totally gassed from the earlier events.

"What? Are you famous or something?" You cocked an eyebrow that you knew would only agitate her more. 

"You could say that" 

With her momentarily distracted your teammate passed the ball to you in the final seconds.

"Really?" You smirked, "because you seem," throwing the ball in a no-look half court basket, the way you saw Paige had done in a video.

Just before the buzzer could signify the end of the game you put your hand on the back of her neck pulling her close, and whispered,

"Irrelevent." 

[zepskies]

Assistant Hottie

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader (implied Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university. 

AN: So I know it’s about 20 years late, but I’ve been wanting to write some Jason Teague for a while now. There’s a very dated reference to iPods (remember this show was circa early 2000s).

Word Count: 2,600 Tags/Warnings: Implied love triangle (quadrangle?), fluff, tinge of angst, and a meet cute.

“Hey, Coach T!”

Jason turns his head, shooting Clark Kent a smile that’s just a little bit forced. He slows down in the busy hallway so the younger man can catch up.

Clark’s friends, Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang keep walking, though the brunette glances his way. Her hazel eyes catch his.

But Jason focuses on Clark, who’s coming at him with all six feet and three inches of farm boy earnestness.

Jason has City Boy Charm in his arsenal.

“What’s up, man?”

Clark smiles. “Real quick, just wanted to ask you about the drills we’re running today…”

Eighth period is about to start, meaning just another hour until school ends, and another day of practice begins on the football field. Clark takes all five minutes between classes to ask his questions about how he can better move the ball, his throwing technique, how to better communicate on plays with the rest of the guys.

As always, Jason gives Clark the best advice he has to offer. Even a few months into this job, he’s still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome. He’s only a couple of years older than the guys he’s coaching, and Clark is looking at him like he’s got all the answers.

Newsflash, champ. I don’t. Jason smiles though. 

Because Clark is something else. He’s a starting quarterback of a game he’s never played before in his life. Head Coach Quigley thought it was steroids at first, but Jason had a gut feeling about the guy.

“He’s not a cheater,” he’d told Quigley. The other man had scoffed, rubbing his chin.

“Okay, Teague. If you think so,” he said. “…Make him piss in a cup anyway.”

Since then, Clark hasn’t given Jason a reason to doubt him, at least on the field.

No, his reasons for still being wary of Clark are more…personal.

“All right, we’ll workshop the rest later on the field,” Jason says, as the starting bell rings. “You’re gonna be late for class.”

“Okay, see ya later.” Clark nods and holds up a hand in goodbye. To tell the truth, Jason is a little relieved to see him go.

Instead of heading to his office, he makes a pitstop at the faculty break lounge for a cup of coffee. He could use a little pick-me-up, even if it is from a watery K-cup.

When he pushes open the door, he’s greeted by the familiar smell of stale roasted hazelnut and microwaved fish. Along with the wall-to-wall countertop and refrigerator down the end, there’s a small round table fitted with just three chairs.

Uh oh, he thinks.

You’re sitting there with a pair of earbuds in, nodding to your music while you make notes with a red pen. The contents of your messenger bag are half-strewn across the table, displaying a couple of notebooks and binders, different colored highlighters, pens, and a post-it pad.

Your back is facing him, so he has to walk around the table to get your attention. He hesitates, before he taps your shoulder. He’s never had to do this before, and he’s actually a bit nervous.

“Hey there,” he says. His lips quirk when you jolt a little. You stare up at him with wide eyes and the top of your pen resting against your lower lip. 

“Uh…” You remove your ear buds and hit pause on your iPod.

“Did you get lost on the way to study hall, or you just here for the coffee?” Jason gestures to the Keurig machine on the counter. “Hate to break it to you, but that stuff’s not exactly quality joe.”

You blinked at him. “What? Um…I mean yeah, the coffee’s ass. But it is free, I guess.”

Jason tries to reign in his smile. He cards a hand through his blonde hair and taps his free hand on the table.

“Uh, are you ditching class or something?” he asks. “If it’s history, I get it. Snooze fest.”

He makes a flatlining motion with his hand. Your brows knit together in confusion…but then you brighten.

“Oh, I’m not a student,” you laugh. “But good on you for trying to lay down the law, Coach Teague.”

Now it’s Jason’s turn to be confused. “How did you know—”

You point with your red pen, over to the yellow patch emblazoned on his red polo that says: Crows Football and Assistant Coach.

“Pretty sure you’re the one the cheerleaders are calling Assistant Hottie,” you say. Your gaze is wry and a hint playful.

He lets himself smile, albeit with some embarrassment. He points at you.

“And you’re…”

“Part-time teacher’s aid,” you reply. Your hands make a frame around the stack of papers in front of you, that Jason now realizes you’re grading.

Great. His face warms a bit.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, and points to the coffee maker. “Let me just mind my business.”

He doesn’t know it, but you subtly watch him with a small smile while he goes about said business. The Keurig eventually spits out more roasted hazelnut into his Styrofoam cup.

With his prize in hand, he means to leave you in peace to head for his office, but your voice stops him.

“You can sit if you want. I need a break anyway.”

Jason can admit, at least to himself, that he’s curious. (About you.) He goes over to the table and sits down across from you. His eyes unconsciously dart over the splayed contents of your bag, and you don’t miss it.

“Sorry,” you say, as you try to reign in the mess and corral things back into your bag. “I’m kind of an organized chaos kind of girl.”

“No worries. I dabble in that philosophy myself,” he says with a grin. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, giving him your name in return.

You like his smile. His long fingers are wrapped around the steaming cup. Meanwhile, the afternoon sun is pouring in from the windows behind him. It shines golden on his hair and broad shoulders, and makes his green eyes look warm.

Those eyes glance down and focus on a familiar badge sticking out of your bag. His brows furrow.

“No way. You go to Kansas A&M?” he asks. “So do I.”

You blink at him. “What, you’re still in college?”

He laughs and leans back in his chair, blowing out a breath.

“Okay, wow! A bit rude," he says. "Just how old do you think I am?”

You bite your lip in embarrassment.

“Second thought, don’t answer that,” he quips.

“I’m sorry,” you say, through a bit of laughter. “I guess we’re both reading each other wrong today.”

Jason shakes his head and crosses his arms.

“No, no. It’s fine,” he says airily. “Lest I be any more presumptuous, can I ask what year you’re in? Major?”

You concede with a nod, but you’re still smiling too hard.

“Secondary Education. Junior year,” you say. Jason’s brows raise with his grin still in place.

“Okay, a future teacher on our hands.” He leans forward. “As it turns out, I’m actually a sophomore.”

A year below you. You bury your reddened face in your hands, though a giggle still bubbles up.

He doesn’t let you stew in your misery for long though.

“Eh, it’s okay. Don’t feel too bad,” he says. You hear the smile in his voice, and you peek out at him from between your fingers. “I’m technically a year behind. Transferred from another school so I could take this job.”

Once again, your eyes widen as your hands fall away from your face.

“Oh, yeah? I assume you play football, but I’ve never seen you on the team…”

Jason’s smile turns playfully cocky.

“I don’t play anymore, but I’ll have you know, I was on track for the NFL.”

Yeah, for about a minute, comes a dull reminder in his brain.

You rest your chin in your hand as you meet his smile. “Okay. You definitely have the face of a guy who almost went pro.”

Your voice lowers at the end there, impersonating every “dude bro” you’ve ever met who thought he could throw a ball across a field.

“I’m serious.” Jason laughs, but then his eyes dim a bit. “I played for Metropolis U. Tore my rotator cuff, and uh…that’s it. Scrubbed. Had to start over.”

You dim along with him. “That sucks ass. I’m sorry.”

He snorts, almost spilling his coffee. “You’ve certainly got a way with words.”

“But you feel better for me calling you old, don’t you?” Your pen taps on your lip, and his eyes are drawn to the gesture.

He also notices your eyes, the shape of your face, the shade of your hair, the black Fleetwood Mac shirt (with a ripped V hinting at cleavage). It doesn’t exactly scream T.A., but you’re pretty.

Beautiful, really.

He tries not to notice that too much.

“Maybe a little,” he allows. He smiles behind a sip of his drink. It’s getting cold, as he forgets to actually drink it.

“My parents sent me to college to be a lawyer,” you confess. It perks his interest with raised brows. “Like my mom, and my uncle, and his father before him, and so on.”

Jason’s smile is back. You consider that a small triumph.

“I sat in one class. Intro to Business Law.” You shudder at the memory. “Jason, I wanted to bludgeon myself with the textbook. And it wouldn’t have taken long. That thing was the size of a Dostoyevsky novel.”

Jason laughs, even though he doesn’t know who Dostoyevsky is. It does unearth a distant memory of his 12th grade English class (he barely passed that one).

“So, I decided to disappoint them,” you say ruefully.

That, he understands all too well. He raises a finger at you. “Hey, a teacher’s respectable. But I happen to be an expert at disappointed parents, so you’re in good company.”

You smile, small but genuine. Jason counts that as a win.

“What’s your major now?” you ask.

“Sports medicine,” he replies, but you both hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

Your head tilts, and your eyes soften. Not with pity, he thinks. Maybe with understanding.

“You could find something else you’re actually passionate about,” you say.

Jason bites the inside of his lip, sets his cup back on the table.

“Sure,” he says.

His lackluster answer is telling, and he can’t even think of a joke to inject into this moment to lighten the mood. (He even disappoints himself there.)

“Look, I get it,” you say at last. “You probably ate, slept, breathed that game. Like that’s what you were put on this earth to do. And I know you must’ve been good. Because the fact that this school hired you while you’re still in college is amazing.”

He meets your gaze steadily. 

Your smile brightens. “But I’m sure football’s not all there is to you.” 

That touches him. Warms him even, though he’s reluctant to let it. 

“We just met, and you’re already sure about that?” he remarks. 

You shrug, gesturing at his cup. “Well, I’m sure that you probably have crappy taste in coffee. I’m broke as hell, and even I don’t drink from a Keurig.” 

Jason laughs. If you only knew that he’d spent his summer in Paris, sampling some of the best restaurants and cafés in the world without even looking at the bill…until his dad cut him off. Needless to say, he’s had to refine his tastes.

“What kind of teacher do you want to be?” he asks, instead of getting to all that.

Your brow arches. “You mean what subject?”

“Yeah. What, like physics or something?”

“Ew. God, no!” 

“What’s wrong with physics?”

“Too much math. I’m shit at that shit,” you reply. 

“Okay. No to the sciences.” He laughs and rubs his chin, squinting at you. “Let me see if I can guess.”

You gesture widely. Go ahead.

“Not economics, I’m thinking. Too close to business,” he teases.

“Business law,” you correct. “But you’re actually right about that.”

“Hmm, history?”

“It's interesting, but it’s also rigged,” you say. “Only the victors in society get to dictate what gets remembered. Just look at Columbus Day. What a sham that is.”

Jason allows that with a nod and a smile. “All right, what then? Algebra? Geometry?”

“That’s math, remember?” you reply, with furrowed brows. “Besides, I don’t like mixing letters and numbers. It’s not sanitary.” 

He chortles at that. You’re a little ridiculous, but he kind of likes that.

“Okay, how about English?” he says.

Your gaze flicks up to his. A small, growing smile. 

“What makes you say that?” you ask. 

“Process of elimination?” he says. His smile curves. He saw your little reaction. “But I don’t know. I get the feeling you’re a hell of a lot smarter than me. The way you’re talking, all quick as a whip… Like I said, you’ve got a way with words.”

You laugh a little. “Oh, do I?” 

Jason’s brows raise expectantly as he leans back in his seat again.

Well, then? that move says. “Am I right?”

Your head tilts, and you answer the unspoken challenge in his eyes. You raise a finger and pull out one of your notebooks and you take up your red pen. You tap the top of it on your lip, in what seems to be your habit, and you begin to write on a clean piece of paper.

Your hand moves with purpose on each word. Jason watches you in curiosity. Though when you realize he’s staring hard at your paper, your free hand forms a wall against his probing eyes.

“No cheating,” you reproach.

He scoffs, but he waits for you to finish.

Finally, you tear off the piece of notebook paper, fold it up neatly, and you slide it over to him.

“What, are we passing notes now?” Jason can’t help but joke, even as he opens the little gift. “I thought we weren’t in class, Professor.”

You shake your head. “Just read it.”

He starts to, and his smile grows. He glances back up at you. “You wrote me a poem?”

“Just a little haiku.” You gesture at him to keep reading while you start to pack up your things. The alarm bell just tolled for the end of class, and you have another job to get to.

Jason’s eyes lower back down to the looping scrawl of your handwriting. His smile deepens into a smirk.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

He stares at your words for a while. He rereads the last line a few times.

By the time he looks back up, your bag is packed and you’re standing, ready to go. You smile at him.

“See you on campus,” you say. “I also work at the Writing Center, if you ever need a spruce up on your essays.”

“Can I get you to rewrite my history paper?” he teases.

“Make an appointment,” you counter, still with that smile. “And we’ll see.”

You leave the faculty lounge, and Jason feels a suspicious jolt in his heart.

Something he immediately feels guilty about. 

Because the real reason he came back to Kansas is to continue his summer fling with Lana Lang, a senior at Smallville High. 

Well, to him, it’s not a fling. He used to think it was as close to love as he’s ever been. Recently though, he’s been getting the sense that she’s still hung up on her not quite ex, Clark Kent.

That’s not even the most complicated part.

She’s 18, and Jason’s barely 20, but their relationship could still one day be the reason he loses his job…

And maybe, any chance he might have of being friends with someone like you.

AN: Lol no shade to my sciences, history, and math people! Just creating a character. Let me know what you think! 😉

And if you liked this...

Read the Sequel!

Check out "Miss Professor" to continue reading. ❤️

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[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you have any long domestic fics like 100k+? Like we are stuck in happy ever after

Hey Nonny!

Ah, this is a good question!

I've gone through all my Platonics and Domestics (Dec 2022) Johnlock lists as well as my offline lists, and I've decided to do a 50K+ list so I can have MOAR FICS lol. Hope that's okay!!

Enjoy!

If you have a long-fic that focuses heavily on Domestics with a happy ending, please do add them, friends!

LONG DOMESTIC JOHNLOCK (50K+ w)

A Study Of Living With Sherlock Holmes by  AllesandraQuartermaine (T, 50,234 w., 22 Ch. || Post-ASiP/Pre-TAB, Domestics, Friendship, POV John) – Learn about what happened between John and Sherlock January 31st and March 22. From John's pov on how to survive and learn to live with one eccentric mad genius known as Sherlock Holmes. 

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court. Part 1 of the Care And Companionship series

MARKED FOR LATER

The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.

Your Many Tendencies Series by apliddell (T, 52,222+ w. across 5 works || WiP || Femlock, POC Characters, Enby Character, Sherlock’s Violin, YouTuber John, UST, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Domesticity, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss, Love Confessions, John’s Family, Christmas, Anxious Sherlock, Hurt / Comfort, Institutional Racism) – John Watson returns to London after a long absence, somewhat the worse for wear. She meets Sherlock Holmes, and starts feeling excited about life again.

Following the (Silver) Fox by Jobooksandcoffee (E, 54,355 w., 15 Ch. || S3 Fix It Fic, Sherstrade, John/Mary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Pining Sherlock, Resentful John, Regretful John, Domestic Life, Drug Use, Happy Ending, Greg’s Children, Friendship, Unrequited Love) – After two lonely and painful years away eliminating the threads of Moriarty’s web, Sherlock comes home to find John living with Mary. John is also hurt and resentful, determined to not allow Sherlock to undermine his relationship with his new fiancée. Greg, who always thought Sherlock and John belonged together, becomes a closer friend to Sherlock. He gives the Consulting Detective a place to stay, a friend to have dinner with, someone who will listen to him. He tries to keep all interfering feelings at bay. As Sherlock notices his friendship with Greg becomes stronger, he begins to accept that maybe he can be alright even with John not living at Baker Street any more. He and Lestrade can work at the Yard, and talk about cases. Greg is good at rescuing Sherlock when John and Mary’s wedding preparations get intense. They are friends. This is enough for Sherlock. Right?

Hearts Don't Break Around Here by thatawkwardfriend (M, 54,796 w, 12 Ch. || Teenager AU || Homophobia, Past Abuse, Artistic John, John saves Sherlock, BAMF John, Horse Riding, Swimming, Minor Violence, First Kiss / Time, Making Out, Fireworks, Carnival, Fluff and Humour, Angst with Happy Ending, Death / Funeral, Hurt / Comfort, Morning After, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining) – When John gets in a fight at school, his parents send him to Sussex for the summer in hopes that living with the Holmes’ will shape him up. It is there that he meets Sherlock Holmes: a class A asshole too smart for his own good. John expects a long, dull, lonely summer. What he does not expect is to form an unlikely friendship with the strange boy across the hall. What he expects even less is to fall in love with him.

Ours Series by KeelieThompson1 (M, 76,922 w. across 7 works || Omegaverse || Omega John, Alpha Sherlock, Domestics, MPreg, Pre/Post Reichenbach) – John is an omega who has been on heat suppressants his entire life. When Sherlock realises this and shows an interest in John, they have to work their way through the problems caused by John having never had a real heat in his life.

The Things That Haunt Us by BRNZ (E, 92,993+ w., 18/? Ch. || Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dead People, Child Death, PTSD John, Psychological Horror, Nightmares, Bed Sharing, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Bliss, BAMF John, Friendship / Love, POV John, Pining John, Therapy) – What happens when a post war vet with PTSD takes up with a madman detective and they spend time investigating and solving some truly horrific crimes? How does the doctor who can kill with steady hand process all that additional trauma? How do we recognise that our past still haunts us, in ways we don't realise? When you are caught in a vicious cycle of needing the thrill of the chase, and having to deal with the fallout...what happens when you might need to choose between the two for your own sanity? The story of how two damaged men managed to find their way back to each other and begin to make a future together.

The Trouble with Sentiment by Khansfringe (E, 95,153 w., 16 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock, Alpha John, Knotting, Blow Jobs, Rough Sex, Pregnancy Prevention, Love Letters, Soldier John, Fingerfucking, Heat Suppressants, Implied Alcoholism, Implied Drug Use, Mating Cycles, PTSD Symptoms, Slave Trading, Angst, Fluff, Domesticity) – When John, a twenty-two year old Alpha university student, gets dragged to an Omega auction house by his friend, Mike Stamford, he wasn't planning on buying anything. At least, not until he saw Sherlock, the eighteen year old, emaciated Omega with trust issues. Now John and Sherlock have to find a way to work through both of their troubles, including Sherlock's tragic past and John's volunteering to join the army. Part 1 of the Always series

A Vintage Exceptionally to Your Liking by EmmyAngua (E, 95,334 w., 19 Ch. || Alternate Dimensions AU || S3 Fix It, Lies, Angst, Pining Sherlock, Superpowers, Domestics, BAMF Mary, Hiatus, First Time, Magical Realism, Slow Burn, Colliding Universes, Moral Dilemmas, Betrayal, Mary’s Past) – Sherlock and John met seven years earlier than canon and fell in love. When John dies, Sherlock is introduced to the concept of alternate dimensions and given the opportunity to visit a different universe where he can have a second chance with a new John Watson. A love story across alternate dimensions.

Minutiae (Or 156 Things I Know About You) by AtlinMerrick (E, 106,114 w., 80 Ch. || Marriage, Anal/Oral Sex, Domestics, Stand Alone Chapters, Humour, Prompts, Lovers, Short Stories) – Here, in no particular order, are some of the things John has learned about Sherlock, and some of the things Sherlock has learned about John. In the end there will be 156 mundane and unusual facts for each of them. (Um...I never stopped at 156.) (All chapters stand alone.)

Ex Files by 7PercentSolution (T, 161,586+ w., 58/? Ch. || Autistic Sherlock, Blogger John, Neurodiversity, Depression, Suicidal Ideations, Kidlock, Chemistry, Protective Mycroft, Bullying, Sherlock’s Violin, Case Fic, Missing Scene, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Domesticity in Flatsharing) – A collection of one shot stand alone ficlets of varying lengths that cover aspects of Sherlock's world. Not in chronological order, nor linked, but together adding up. Varying points of view, but mostly John's at the start. Each chapter informs and illuminates some aspect of character or an event in their back story. Part 1 of the Ex Files series

The Only One in the World; I Invented the Job by apliddell (E, 323,869 w., 460 Ch. || Post-TRF, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Texting, POV Sherlock First Person, Domestic Fluff) – This is the sequel to The Adventure of the Consulting Corpse. It's a serial with short plot arcs and long characterisation arcs. It follows John and Sherlock through the development of their relationship. Part 2 of the The Most Human series

Reichenbach Falls by VeeTheRee (M, 536,133+ w., 101/303 Ch. || WiP || Gravity Falls /  Multifandom AU || Alternate First Meeting, Gay Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Unilock, Summer Romance/Love, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Villain Mary, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Canadian John, French Canadian Lestrade, Insecure Sherlock, Mystery, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship Summer Love, Light Angst, BAMF! John, Case Fic) – Two Canadians, two Brits studying in Canada, and an upkeeper walk into a Mystery Shack…. and live there. Summer holidays are here, and the step-siblings, Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes, find themselves in a boring town called Reichenbach Falls, Oregon, USA. It isn’t as boring as it seems, however, once Sherlock stumbles upon a mystery journal, and the author is unknown. The journal contains ciphers, a strange colour wheel, and information about magical creatures that are said to be looming in the Northwestern forests. With mysteries to solve in hand, he and Irene set out to get to the roots of the town, and the abrupt disappearance of the author of the journal. But they’re not alone - John Watson, quite the handsome nephew of the Mystery Shack owner Greg Lestrade, is on their side to help out, plus mess with Sherlock’s feelings, in a good way. Shenanigans, romance, fun, danger, and deductions ensue. Oh, and there’s also occasional SuperWhoLock and two dorky Winchester brothers to spark up the action later on. Part 1 of the Reichenbach Falls series

[thebiggerbear]

Jason Teague Fic Recs List

Rec list under Read More:

Promposal Dilemma by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

The Art of Stealth by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people - jason doesn’t seem to understand the art of sneaking into your dorm room quietly

Kiss Me First by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people - you keep a student after class to work on their late english homework, but coach teague wants his star quarterback at practice

Assistant Hottie by @zepskies - Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university.

Miss Professor by @zepskies - Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

*I will add more as I go

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[venus2eros]

Hey hotties, I think I'm gonna do a little intro to my main character before dropping the fic cuz why tf not (even though you'll already learn abt her once you read it but wtv)

Yara Alexandre, age 22, born and raised in Florida, recent college graduate, studied Communications with a minor in Sports management and Mass Media, was a Radio host for her college, created a Podcast with a friend, just got accepted to be Coach Galtier's assistant at PSG, a little shy but fun to be around once you get to know her, an introverted extrovert, don’t let the nerdy glasses fool you she can throw ass at a party, did an internship with the NBA, pretty good dancer, loves House of Dragon/Game of Thrones, Caribbean, cute dresser, messy curly hair, Rob Brooks from high fidelity is her spirit animal/persona, loves Sza, loves Taylor Swift, spotify playlist is very diverse, and overall a sweet spirit

This is my main character and I love her already ugh, The series will not be a long one I can guarantee you that but it'll still be pretty good

[junhuiste]

twice twice baby (preview)

pairing: jake x gn reader x sunghoon

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, college!au, hockey player!jake, ice skater!sunghoon, sports med assistant!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, cursing, slightly suggestive scenes

a/n: this is just a preview of the bigger piece i plan to publish much later, so it pretty much only has jake, sorry hoonists! also gonna address it here while we’re at it, but i wanna apologize to everyone who sent requests in! i have them all plotted, most drafted and written, but i didn’t realize when i moved back home how busy i would be with work, summer classes, and looking for an apartment! i will have them published before the end of summer though! this piece is coming out before only because i wrote it well before finals week lol

taglist: please let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist!

Being in a parallelogram (or was it a dodecagon? A triangle? whatever) with the two notorious ‘Ice Hotties’ at your college, Jake Sim, the captain of the hockey team, and Park Sunghoon, the world class figure skater, is easy. Geometry isn’t that complicated...right?

As you entered into the arena, a cold blast of air struck, prompting you to jump slightly in your tracks, cursing that it was men’s hockey season and not basketball anymore. Albeit arms shivering, knees wobbling, and barely being able to make any strides at all, you weren’t distraught and to some extent trembling because of the ice rink or the ice packs inside the pouch seemingly glued to your waist, or hell, even the unnecessary air conditioner giving its all. Really, did they need to keep that fucking thing on when it was already polar-arctic-adjacent inside the arena? Probably to keep the rink from oozing into water and having Atlantis actually come to fruition...whatever, fuck the cold!

“Y/N, let’s get on it. We’re a bit late.” The head athletic trainer indicated, speed-walking a little too quickly for your liking, but what were you to do when your chest was heaving upon arrival at the ice center? Suck it up? Collapse and crawl into a ball?

Nodding, even though she was practically scurrying and leaving your curtailing ass in the dust, you heightened your pace despite the fact that your legs were about to give out at any second. Weren’t cold spaces supposed to make a solid more rigid, not turn your legs to jelly?

The both of you finally reached the area where the players were situated to greet the head and assistant hockey coaches.

“This is Y/N,” your trainer (whom insisted you just skip the formalities and call her Mina) motioned to you, slightly yet noticeably panting, “a first year, but they’ve done men’s basketball, women’s soccer and some gymnastics last semester. They know their stuff!”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” The head coach reaches out to grip your hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet y—“ once more today you jump, this time not shaken by the frozen tundra or by the vehemently boisterous buzzer, though it was much more thundering than the buzzer at the basketball court for some reason, but by the announcers cheering, “first year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim!”

And the crowd? They didn’t just go wild, no, they were literally cacophonous, the ground beneath and the arena stands rumbling, practically rivaling the San Andreas fault. Craning your neck to look around the oval shaped space and just how many students from your school, clad in university regalia, were present to see guys battle it out with plastic sticks on frozen water, even that, the entire scene wasn’t what had your heart nearly palpitating out of your chest.

First year, number three, co-Captain, Jake Sim. Now that was enough to warrant a blood pressure monitor...and possibly a defibrillator.

Almost giving yourself whiplash from turning around too quickly, it was hard not to gape at the boy coasting across the ice, waving at the all too excited crowd. And even through his helmet and from across the rink, you could make out his dark, glimmering irises, like how the sun’s edges would peak through from behind during an eclipse. It was kind of charmingly sickening actually, that someone could be as radiant as he was, under all the bulky gear, even despite the temperature. It wasn’t convenient actually that it had to be men’s hockey this time, that you, as the athletic trainer’s sports medicine intern had to attend the games for. Yeah, it was for credits. Sure, it was for intern experience...but what was the point if you only expected to make a fool out of yourself trying to tend to Jake and his teammates’ possible injuries?

It wasn’t fair, actually, that you were hopelessly in like with Jake Sim and that he didn’t even know your name when you were in the same physics class. To be fair though, it was a class of about 400, an infamous weeder course that crushed the poor souls of innocent underclassmen, so to have him direct any sort of attention your way, even a mere glimpse, would be laughable. That was what happened when you sat in the back, though.

Of course it just had to be Jake Sim that completely bewitched you, and he didn’t have to twirl any fingers or fixate any potions to have you just so damn spellbound. All he had to do was show up to freshman orientation with that stupid inviting grin of his, and that dumb glint in his eye that no one else seemed to possess. No, of course he just had to show up and be almost too cordial to everyone in your orientation group, even though all the other students, including you, could not give a single damn about the campus tour. And yes, of course, he just had to have the masses absolutely enamored with him, both upper and underclassmen alike.

Consider all of that, with Jake’s insane schedule, not that you knew anything specific, just that he had games on Tuesdays and Thursdays, coupled with daily practices, but you were only privy to that information because Mina always gave you the athletic teams’ agendas for the month. So yes, trying to garner any attention from Jake was like floating right smack in the middle of the Pacific, sending some sort of signal through a marine radio, and getting no response back. Not a hint that anyone was coming. No helicopters whirring above, no boats sent out ashore. What would he want to do with the first-aid kid, the person that sat in the back, the person that was paying attention to something else at the moment, and not the fact that they had to observe players carefully for potential injuries?

Well, sorry to Jake’s teammates and Mina, but you just couldn’t pry your eyes off of number three. How he skated in such an agile manner while simultaneously defending assertively was certainly an image now seared into your mind. The way he commanded the court was just so—“You paying attention? Are you okay today?” Mina snapped you out of your nonsensical trance.

“Yeah, yeah of course! Always on my toes like you said...” your eyes told a different story, and deceived you at that.

“And there’s number three, Sim, with the first goal!”

Jake skated backwards to high five his teammates and to prepare to defend, and it was definitely a sight to see him so animated, feeling right where he should be in his domain.

“Ah, I see. Number three is it? I heard he’s a beast on the ice,” Mina nudged and winked slyly at you, “anyway, pay attention ‘cause if your little ice boy gets hurt you know we gotta move quickly.”

It was already enough to have your friends taunt you about your silly adolescent infatuation with Jake, now to have your mentor in on it too? Mina was right though, you were here to wrap ankles and tend to bruised hips, not ogle at the team captain.

“Gotcha. On my toes!” you winked back at her, semi-ready to do your job. If you could predict injuries before they even happened during the basketball and soccer games you should be more than capable of caring for the hockey players. Whipping your head around to finally and legitimately focus on the members, you really wished you hadn’t.

There he was, number three, adept and dodging the defensive players, with the puck sliding in tandem with his stick. Then, it happened all too quickly, in a tenth of a second, too much for everyone spectating to comprehend.

BAM.

Suddenly, Jake was on his back after he and the opposing player too combatively collided into each other. You blinked once and now he was supine on ice, clutching a leg to his chest. His teammates and the referees hastily surrounded him, but you could not watch anymore, you had to do what you were here for.

Running past both the coaches, lamenting what the hells and go go go! at Mina, you dashed to the edge of the rink, about to enter and slip on the ice, but stopped yourself, because you didn’t have skates on. Fuck. Mina and you always ran to the scene of the injury, and you’d only dealt with hardwood floors and grass fields, but never ice. There was no reason for you to just stand around though, as Jake was being lifted by the referees. As much as you wanted to glue your eyes to the catastrophe, you sprinted to the locker room to fetch the cooler.

“Everyone, move!” You shouted at the towering players standing in your way. Setting the cooler on the floor, you directed some of them to assemble a few of the chairs they were sitting on for a makeshift cot for Jake to rest his leg on. Nervously yet rapidly, you dug into your backpack for a splint, pre-wrap, and medical tape.

When you stood back up, Jake and the referees were at the rink’s entrance, with Mina extending her arms to steady him once he transitioned from ice to linoleum. And through all this he maintained the same tender-hearted curve on his face, beaming at Mina and thanking the referees.

One of Jake’s coaches and Mina propped Jake around their shoulders as he hopped on one foot to your nearby station. Assisting them in getting Jake to sit down, you were shaking slightly out of feverishness and hormones, even though it was the perfect temperature for snowfall, but forming a resistance to doing that was almost impossible.

Christ, you weren’t like this when Taehyun tore his ligament last semester at the basketball semi-finals, or when Yuna sprained her toe out on the field, yet it was due to that certain someone that you just could not find it within you to operate as you usually did. It was imperative that you got out of your own head; Jake was merely another athlete you had to tend to and someone you, quite frankly, had to get over, like now.

Once Jake was seated with his right leg propped up on the opposite chair, he took his helmet off and handed it to his coach standing guard next to him.

“Mina, you guys got this?” The coach hesitantly asked your trainer.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about, Coach Kim! We’ve seen worse than this; we’re good, right Y/N?”

You gave Coach Kim a measly thumbs up and he rushed to get back to the rest of the team to continue with the game, deliberating who would substitute in now that their best player was on the sidelines.

While Mina undid Jake’s skates and kneepads, you assessed him before you could get started, asking him what kind of pain he had in his leg, how much it hurt on a scale of 1-10, and if he could wiggle his toes.

Sharp and kind of aching, I think. 8.5-ish, actually maybe just 8. Toes wiggling.

“Um, okay. Good that your toes are still intact, which means you’re gonna be okay, but is there any other part of your body that hurts?” You tried not to sound like a complete buffoon, trying to enunciate your words properly like you did with several other injured athletes; Jake shouldn’t have been any different. He was, though.

“Yeah, I feel like there’s a bruise on the right side of my body somewhere,” he said, motioning to his abdomen.

“Okay...I’m gonna take your shoulder pads off and you have to take your jersey off so we can ice it, is that cool with you?” Your brain was bouncing off the walls at the mention of “take” and “off”. Come on, this wasn’t fucking NASA, although it might as well have been, as he was a universe and a half to you (in a melodramatic way of sorts).

“Yeah, yeah—for sure. Thanks.” Jake flashed an acknowledging smile, to which your cheeks heated up at. There was an injured boy in front of you—no time for shits and giggles and teenage elation.

As you aided Jake in removing his shoulder pads and jersey, he winced a bit, while trying to hide it at the same time. 

“Are you good? I’ll get some ice on that soon, I promise.” You gradually eased into your ‘medic’ mode, trying to expel as much of your nerves as humanly possible.

“Yeah I’m okay, just hurts a bit. Thanks again,” he could not stop giving you that demure yet brazen demeanor, and to be around a smiling Jake meant a tense you, regardless if your subconscious plan to initiate Nerves Exodus was kind of working.

When Mina stood up, all finished with undoing his skates and knee pads, she asked Jake to repeat what he stated about his pain earlier to you back to her. Before walking to where the coaches and other players were, she chaffed at you, with a mischievous lilt to her words, “you can handle it from here right? The star player’s in your hands.”

Audibly, you ‘mhmmed’ her, and when you were out of Jake’s sight, rolled your eyes, making sure she noticed that. You were glad though, that Mina was your trainer and not some old, stern fart like she had when she interned in your same position; it made for much more “effective” mentoring and communication, especially because she left you alone with the athletes, so you were able to think of what to do next for yourself, and if there were ever any mistakes—which there were none of to date—she would help you work through them.

Holy shit, Mina left. It was just you and Jake.

[before-we-get-started]

Safe Landing

One shot that is my entry to @what-is-your-plan-today’s #CATFA 10th Anniversary Challenge

Story:  You’re facing the most difficult time of your life and you’re doing it without the person that means the most to you.  Will your seatmates on an important flight help you make it through?

Pairing:  Steve Rogers & Ransom Drysdale x Reader (plus a surprise special appearance!)

Warnings:  Bad language, light smut, angst

10,000+ words

There’s not going to be a safe landing.

It was the unknown that was the hardest.  The what if.  What if you’d taken the time to slow down?  What if you’d given more than you took?  What if you’d appreciated it, not taken it for granted, not just assumed that it would always be there?

You were alone now.  You didn’t have anyone.  It was probably what you deserved.  You’d persevere, you always had, but knowing you wouldn’t have to if you’d been better caused your heart to clench.

The longest flight of your life was coming to an end, and you considered the travelers making this journey with you by chance.  You’d all shared a row on the plane that was taking you to meet your fate.  One - cynical, crass, growing up longing to be loved, incapable of committing, but under it all, possessing a fierce loyalty for those he deemed worthy.  The other – a gentle, loving soul, committed to service with honor and willing to give all, not just for those he loved, but for the greater good.  They were complete strangers who had seeped into your soul, spirits that would forever fill you, thoughts of them making you smile.

For better or worse, they’d helped you navigate the mine field that was your future. Now you’d endure the unbearable wait, the long walk, watching others unite with loved ones, hoping that maybe, despite all odds, there would be a reunion for you too.  You hoped the soul-soothing moments you’d shared with these two travelers over the last three hours would ease you into whatever awaited you at the airport gate.

Despite everything, you wished he’d be there.  

Three hours earlier

“Thank you for flying National Airlines.”  You forced a smile at the flight attendant as you boarded the plane.  It was going to be a full flight and you were stuck in a middle seat.  Appropriate, given the mood you were in.  You waited impatiently as everyone made their way down the aisle, hoisting bags that were too large to fit in the overhead, straps smacking you as they did.  You pitied your seat mates. You were in no mood for idle conversation. Your temper was wearing thin.

Finally reaching row 12, you were thrilled that no one else had arrived. You plopped into your seat, pulled out your compact and opened it, and grimaced as you took a quick look.  There were circles under your eyes, telling everyone you’d not slept well for days.  You’d definitely lost your sparkle.  You swiped some powder over your nose and ran gloss over your lips, something to make you look less stressed.  You opened your backpack and got a whiff of your grandmother’s scent. You ran your hand over her letter, lingering.  With a sigh, you took the cell phone, headphones and book out of your bag, tucked the letter into the book and stowed the bag under the seat in front of you. You found your seat belt and clicked it, giving it a tug.  Whoever was sitting by the window would have to step around you, you weren’t getting up again.  Music on, book open, you pushed all the sad and empty thoughts aside and got lost in another world.

Within a couple of minutes, you heard shouting and pulled off your headphones. 

You looked up to see a tall man in a blue cashmere sweater and gray silk trousers with his finger in the face of an attendant.  

“Let me tell you something.  You don’t know who you’re fucking with.  Drysdales don’t fly fucking coach – ever.  I’ll sue you and I’ll own this stupid airline.”

“Mr. Drysdale, I’m sorry.  This was the seat that was chosen when the ticket was purchased,” said the flight attendant in a surprisingly calm manner.  “This is a full flight and there is no room for you to upgrade to first class.  And despite what you may think, I had absolutely nothing to do with how the ticket was booked, nor do I have any ability to change the fact that you are in seat 12D.  Now, can I help you stow your bag?  I’ll have a cocktail cart here for you soon.”

You thought he might continue the fight, but he didn’t. Instead he slammed his jacket down on the seat next to you and made a show of slinging his bag into the overhead, muttering a string of expletives the entire time.  Then he looked down at you.

“Just fucking awesome,” he said angrily, picking his jacket up and wedging into the seat.  He was tall and he worked to figure out how to fit his long legs in the legroom designated for the impoverished that were banished to coach.  He sighed in disgust, his knees against the seat tray.  

You studied him for just a second, not wanting to stare.  He had a strong profile, chiseled jawline, dark blonde hair perfectly styled.  His skin was gorgeous, with a slight hook in his nose.  You looked down and caught how his biceps were stretching the sweater a bit and his big hands with long slender fingers settled in his lap.  He smelled of expensive cologne – musky and woody, and he probably had a cigarette before he came into the airport.  He laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.  You took the hint and put your headphones back in, finding the folded page corner in your book.

Within a minute or so, you were aware of a buzz among the other passengers.  You paused the music and pulled out a headphone, looking around and listening.

“I’m certain that’s him,” whispered the woman behind you.  

“No way.  There’s no way Captain America is sitting in coach,” said her husband.

“Do you think he’d take a selfie with me?” said their daughter.

You couldn’t see anything down the aisle and certainly didn’t want to stretch into your neighbor’s seat space given his attitude about having to fly with the peasants.  No need to stress about it though, because the overhead light was suddenly blocked out by an incredibly wide set of shoulders.  The tall blonde man looming over top of you in the aisle took your breath away.  Ice blue eyes, those shoulders as broad as a building, a t-shirt that was screaming to break free from the massive pecs, abs and biceps it struggled to cover, and jeans that hugged his tree trunk thighs.  You weren’t sure how this guy made it through the door of the plane, let alone how he was going to fit into a seat.  

“I’m sorry,” he said to Mr. Attitude next to you.  “I’m the window.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” said Mr. Drysdale.

The blonde adonis just smiled and apologized again.  “Sorry, I should’ve already been seated, I got held up in security.”

The crab apple next to you rose and stepped out into the aisle. They were both the same height, and you took a long look, your breath catching in your throat.  There was a lot of handsome man standing in the aisle, and they were getting ready to make a hottie sandwich out of you.  You quickly unsnapped your seatbelt and stood so the blonde god could get past.

“Hi,” he said, a smile that revealed his pearly whites taking your breath away again.  “I’m so sorry, promise you won’t have to get up again.”

“No worries,” you barely squeaked out as that incredible ass in those tight jeans brushed past and slipped into the window seat.  You sat down, your arms at your sides, absolutely no room on the armrests for you with all of this man surrounding you.  Holy shit.

You looked to your left and the blonde extended a hand. “Steve Rogers,” he said, that million watt smile on again.  

“I’m Y/N,” you said, feeling the warmth and strength of his hand. How in the hell had you ended up on a flight next to Captain America?  You didn’t think anything could change your mood, but maybe you were wrong.

He extended his hand across you to the aisle seat occupant.  “Steve Rogers,” he said in his sexy baritone. Mr. Drysdale raised an eyebrow in annoyance and hesitated, then quickly shook his hand.  “Ransom Drysdale.  And I shouldn’t be sitting in this seat,” he said sourly.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you and grinned, unsure what to think about your seatmate.  You shrugged and smiled.

“We’ve been cleared for takeoff. Be sure your seatbelts are fastened, all items are stowed and tray tables are up.  We’ll be taxiing out to the runway in a few minutes.” The flight attendant walked up the aisle, making sure all the overhead compartments were secure.

You were glad you had pulled what you needed from your bag when you sat, because it would take a can opener to pry you out of your seat at this point.  You opened the book again and tried to concentrate on the words.  Captain Rogers was settling into his seat, turning off his cell phone and trying to pull the seatbelt around his waist.  With some effort, you finally heard it click.

“These seats are incredibly tight.  I’ve never flown coach before.  It’s crazy how little room there is.”

“Tell me about it,” said Ransom, rolling his eyes.  “When I get home, I’m firing my assistant over this reservation and making sure no one else will ever hire her,” he snarled.

You tried looking back and forth during the conversation, enjoying the view, but even that movement was difficult.

“So I thought Avengers traveled by quinjet,” you said to the captain.

He smiled at you.  “We normally do, but I had to get out of town quickly and there wasn’t one available. My wife is having early labor pains and I need to get to her as soon as I can.”  There was worry in his blue eyes.

“Oh, I love your wife,” you said.  “She’s amazing.  She has raised so much money with her foundation, done so much for so many. She’s an inspiration, and a badass,” you added.

He chuckled.  “Well, her badass days are behind her.  Being a mom kind of makes that difficult.”

You smiled at him and shook your head.  You were conversing with Captain America about his family.  Had this day taken a turn or what?

“I can’t believe they couldn’t find you a private plane or something,” said Ransom.  “I would’ve bitched to the airline if I were you.”

“It’s hard to find air transportation right now with all the events happening here and the weather cancelling flights.  I’m just grateful that I got what I got.  The doctors gave her something to slow her labor so I should get there in plenty of time,” said Steve.

“It’s your second, right?” you said.

“Yes, we have a son.”

“Do you know what you’re having?” you asked.

He smiled broadly, all the way to his eyes.  “It’s a girl,” he said, and you thought about what a lucky little girl she was to have a daddy so thrilled to be having her.  It wasn’t that way for everyone.

The plane jerked a bit as it began backing away from the gate.  You laid your head back against the seat, fighting the anxiety that was suddenly overtaking you.  You’d only flown a once before and you’d found taking off and landing nearly more than you could take.  On that flight, he was with you, his hand over yours, whispering in your ear that it would be ok and “I’ve got you, baby girl.”  You closed your eyes and smiled at the memory, imaging him next to you.  Then just as suddenly, the memory of him pressing you against the wall, kissing you with abandon flooded your brain and your eyes flew wide open, your body jerking a bit.

“You ok?” Steve asked.

You could feel the heat rise in your neck.  “Yes,” you said shyly.  “Just not a fan of takeoffs.”

“Flying is the safest form of transportation,” said Ransom matter-of-factly.  “You’ll be fine.”

You looked over at him, that chiseled profile staring straight ahead, a scowl on his face.  He’d better watch out or he’d freeze that way.  You grinned at the memory of your grandmother telling you that every time you rolled your eyes.

Steve reached over the armrest and took your hand, covering it with his.  “Flying isn’t my favorite thing either,” he said with a smile and you wrapped your fingers around his thumb.

The flight attendant announced that the cabin was secure and takeoff could commence and the plane slowed, stopping to let another plane pass. The engine whirred and the plane jerked forward, gaining speed, the noise louder and louder.  You squeezed Steve’s thumb a little harder and he returned the squeeze, holding your hand tightly in his big warm one.  The plane began to lift, knocking you back slightly and you went with gravity, straightening your back and laying against the seat, eyes closed, working on breathing normally.  It was unnerving feeling your body lifting from the seat a little.  The loss of control made your heart race, but gently, as the plane rose and then leveled off, your body was once again calm.

You looked over at Steve and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Thanks,” you said softly.  You let go of his thumb.

“No problem,” he said softly, pulling his hand away.  

“My boyfriend normally does that for me,” you said.  And, you were sad again.

“Is that where you’re traveling, to see him?” Steve asked.

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap.  “No, my grandmother passed away and I’m going to sort out her home and belongings,” you sighed.  “He won’t be there.  He’s done with me.”  

“What does that mean?” asked Ransom.

You sighed.  “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, we’ve got three hours to kill,” Steve said with a smile.

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Ransom, pulling out the airline magazine in an attempt to disappear.

Steve nudged your elbow and smiled.  “Tell me about him.”

You smiled.  “I’ve known him since second grade,” you smiled.  “We started dating in seventh grade.  He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with.”

Ransom let out a disgusted laugh next to you.  You looked over at him.  “Not a romantic, Ransom?”

“Uh, no,” he sputtered.  “Hell no.  Seriously, how old are you?”

You told him your age.

“Jesus, and you’ve only ever been with one guy?  That’s ridiculous.”

You felt Steve’s hand pat your arm.  You looked at him and he rolled his eyes, looking at Ransom.  “I think it’s great you’re with your school sweetheart,” he said.  “You must have some pretty strong feelings for him if you’ve been that loyal to him.”

“I do,” you sighed sadly.  “I thought he was my forever.”

“How can you possibly know that?” said Ransom.  “He’s the only guy you’ve ever been with.”

“I just know,” you said.  “We have a history.’

“Tell me more,” said Steve.

“Well…”

“Where is she?”

“She’s up front, sitting on the pew.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I heard she’ll go with her grandmother.”

The chatter continued at the back of the church just after the funeral had ended. Sitting all alone in the front was an 8-year-old girl in tights, a black velvet dress, black patent shoes and a bow in her hair.  A large spray of pink tulips flowed over the edge of the oak casket in front of her.  

While the adults gossiped, an 8-year-old boy in a suit and tie emerged from the back and walked up the aisle.  He stood at the edge of the first pew, then sat at the end and slid down until he was next to the girl.  He took her hand in his and when she looked at him, he gave a gap-toothed smile. “It’s ok Y/N.  I’ll take care of you.”  The little girl smiled back.

 “My grandmother passed away last month,” you told Steve.

His blue eyes showed concern.  “I’m so sorry.”  He patted your arm.

Ransom let out a sarcastic chuckle.  For someone who didn’t want to talk, he was finding his way into your conversation.  You turned your face to him, unsure what type of asshole laughs at someone’s death.

He looked at you and immediately his face was serious.  “I’m sorry too,” he said.  “I was laughing because my grandmother was the only person on the planet that ever gave a shit about me.  She was the most amazing person I ever knew.”

You couldn’t help but feel for him, despite his incredibly rough edges.

“Well, my grandmother was really amazing too,” you said.  “She got stuck with me when I was little and she did a great job raising me.”

You’d moved in with her at an incredibly difficult time.  Your grandfather had passed less than a year before, and then your mother, her only child.  Taking you in was never in doubt, she would do so gladly, but it was a challenge that she struggled with many times.

Enter him.  He was only a child, but he had, as they say, “an old soul.”  He became your constant companion and a fixture in your grandmother’s home.  You could feel her tension ease when he arrived.  For a little while, she didn’t have to worry if she was making the right decisions for you, bridging the generation gap.  When the two of you were together, you were in sync and well behaved.

You told them how, from the time you moved in with your grandmother, he became your protector.  He walked you to and from school every day, carrying your lunchbox so you could pick flowers along the way.  At recess, he ran to the teeter totter to save it until you got there, and when you climbed on a swing, he pushed you so high you felt like you were flying.

You played baseball with boys until sixth grade and he was always on your team.  When you made the cheerleading squad, he helped you learn all the cheers and during the game, you’d see him on the sidelines with the team, miming your cheers from memory.  

His family was difficult.  His father drove a truck all over the country and was gone for long periods of time.  His mother liked to drink, a little too much, and wasn’t always kind to her children. Despite her treatment, her neglect of her children, he had grown up well-mannered and respectful.  You liked to think your grandmother had a lot to do with that.

“I lost my Ma when I was in my teens,” said Steve.  You knew his story, and that he would have lost her decades ago, but losing your mother was still hard.

Ransom scoffed.  “I should be so lucky,” he said under his breath.

You looked at him.  “Did you just wish your mother dead?” you said sternly.

He looked at you.  “Trust me, the world would be a much better place,” he muttered.

You glared at him for a minute, then turned your attention back to Steve.

“My mom was wonderful,” you said, the memory of her flooding your mind. “She was that mom – the one that did all the fun stuff.  She was creative and an incredible cook and her house was open to everyone.  She was just, she was the best,” you said, tears creeping into your voice.  You felt Steve’s arm push into yours just a bit, the contact easing your sadness.

“My mother is a spoiled rotten bully.  All she cares about is spending money and making people think she’s better than everyone,” Ransom spat out.  “I honestly don’t know why she even had me – actually, I do.  She wouldn’t be nearly as happy if she didn’t have the opportunity to tell me what a disappointment I am every occasion she gets.”

“She sounds like a character out of a movie,” you said.

He looked at you.  “Absolutely fucking no one would watch that movie,” he said deadpan.

Steve cleared his throat.  “So, when did you and your boyfriend get serious?”

“I think we just always knew we’d be together,” you said.  “We were inseparable and we loved each other from that moment in the church.  No one ever invited just one of us to something, it was always both of us.”

“That’s special,” said Steve.  “Some people never find their soulmate.  I was so lucky to find mine when I did.  She helped me discover the world when I came out of the ice.  She’s truly the better half of me.”

You couldn’t help but poke the bear a little.  “Ransom, you’ve never been in love?  Ever?”

He looked at you and rolled his eyes.  “Nope,” he said, popping the P.  “Love is for fools.  Life is too short to be with one person.  There’s a buffet of beauty out there and I’m happy to be the first in line.”

You looked at Steve, who was suppressing a little smile.  “You just haven’t found the right person,” he said, also poking the bear a bit.

“There is no ‘right person’ for me, of that I am sure,” he spat. “I’m fine taking care of me. Don’t need to worry about anyone else expecting something from me I can’t give them.”  He was back to looking at his magazine, acting disinterested. “Besides, anyone that claims to ‘love’ me is lying – they’re really only in love with my money.”

“Aw, Ransom,” you said with a grin, “are you saying you’re not lovable?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out,” he said in a deep, flirty voice, and for the first time, he smiled.

You could hear Steve chuckling softly next to you.

“Y/N, he’s here!”  You could hear your grandmother’s voice from the bottom of the stairs.  You looked in the full length floor mirror one more time. She’d spent hours making your prom dress, just like you’d asked.  It was a beautiful coral color, strapless with a beaded bodice and lace around the top and bottom.  It flared as it reached the floor, and you poked your pink-painted toes in strappy gold heels out from under it.  Around your neck were the pearls your mother had gotten from your great-grandparents for her high school graduation.  Your hair was half up with braids on either side joined in the back with a ribbon clip, the rest down in waves on your shoulders.  

Waiting for you was the guy you wanted to spend your life with.  Every moment with him was special.  Your love for him had blossomed and thinking of a future with him filled your heart.  Tonight, you were sure the two of you would come together in a way you never had. You were ready, past ready, and you knew he was too.  What you felt for him was so deep, you wanted to give him all of you, and you knew he’d take you, just as you are, and cherish you.

As you descended the stairs, he looked up at you and you thought, this must be how the bride feels when her groom sees her for the first time.  He consumed you with his eyes, taking you in from head to toe. With three steps to go, he stepped forward and reached for your hand.  He was so warm and he pulled you to him, a hug and sweet kiss to your glossed lips.  His smile was contagious.  

“You’re my dream,” he said, placing a corsage around your wrist, a pink tulip (your very favorite) in the center.  “Let’s go so I can show you off.”

When you walked into the gymnasium, you saw the looks you got.  Girls were wearing expensive dresses from the best designers, hair and makeup done professionally.  You knew your dress wasn’t as nice and that you stood out in comparison.  But he made you feel as if you were more.  He danced with you all night, making sure to stand in the center of the dance floor so everyone could see you.  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “You’re exquisite.”  As you both worked the room, talking to friends, he would start the conversation with “how did I get so lucky?” or “look at my beautiful girl.”  You were so happy to be on his arm, by his side.

The evening flew by, the last song played by the DJ, and kids started filing out of the gym. You were sad to leave but your entire body was tingling with anticipation.  He opened the door to his dad’s car for you and as you drove away, you wondered if he was as excited as you.  You weren’t nervous, just anxious.

He drove you down the long road to the lake you’d been visiting since you were kids. He parked the car in a grove of trees, shielded by overgrown bushes.  When he looked at you, it felt like he looked deep inside you.  

He pressed a kiss to your lips, his fingers under your chin, lifting your mouth to his. You let out a little noise, deepening the kiss.  He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, savoring your touch.

“Are you ready for this?” he whispered.  It sent chills all over you.

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing him again.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said reassuringly, but you were already pulling off the tie to his tux, unbuttoning the buttons at his throat and down his chest, your fingers brushing his pecs as you went.  He gently pulled the dress down your arms, exposing your bare breasts.  You’d seen him so many times but tonight, you wanted to devour his toned, muscled body, his tanned skin, the prize for hard work at his uncle’s farm.  You wanted to worship him the way he’d always worshiped you. You kissed his soft lips, pressing your breasts to his chest.  

He took a shuddering breath, moving down to kiss and nip along your collarbone to your neck as you pulled the shirt from his body.  You laid your head back, exposing your throat, allowing him to kiss along the shaft to your chest, down your sternum.  You looked in his eyes as he gently touched your breast with his hand, then dipped his head down to gently take a pebbled nipple into his mouth. He was so warm and gentle, you thought you might explode right then.  You lifted yourself to pull the dress off, leaving you in your lace panties and your gold high heels.  He leaned back to take a look at you, then dove in again to your breasts, giving each of them attention.  

Slowly his hands made their way down your belly to the edge of your panties.  He gently laid you back on the seat and you lifted your legs, reaching to undo his belt and pants.  He toed off his shoes and socks, then managed to pull his pants and boxers off under the steering wheel.  He pulled the condom from his wallet and stretched it over his hard, weeping cock.  With a look that made you shiver, he crawled over you, his arms caging you on either side of your head.  It was a tight squeeze but it worked.  As he began kissing you, you lifted your hips, touching him.  He was ready for you and you for him.  He lined himself up with you and very slowly entered you. You winced and his hands went to your hair, kissing your forehead, your nose.  

“You ok?” he asked softly.

“Mm hmm,” you hummed, pulling at his hips, feeling him go deeper inside you.  His lips found yours as he found a gentle rhythm. He took you in, his eyes roaming your face, that smile that melted your heart.  You laid your head back and he assaulted your neck with kisses as his rhythm picked up.  

No matter what you had imagined, nothing would feel like this.  He fit you perfectly.  Your heart swelled and you let out a little sob of happiness as his rhythm grew faster.

“I love you Y/N,” he said in your ear.  “Always.”

“I love you too,” you managed, followed by a moan from deep in your throat that made him growl in approval.  

He quickened his pace and you lifted to him even more, feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening.

“I’m – oh, I’m so…”

“It’s ok baby, I’ve got you.”

His voice was so soft and husky in your ear, you let go, a sound you couldn’t describe escaping as you reached your climax.  You ran your fingernails down his muscular back, then settled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“God Y/N, fuck, you feel so good, you’re so good for me.”  His movements began to stutter as he found his release and you held him tightly to you as he finished, his head falling to your shoulder.  You both lay there in the dark, panting, your bodies on fire.  

“You’re amazing,” you said in a soft voice, your fingers running down his back.

He lifted slowly, propping his head in his hand.  He trailed his fingers down your chest to your breasts.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he grinned.

“It was so good!” you said.  You nuzzled his neck, kissing him softly there.  “I want more,” you breathed into his ear.

He laughed and kissed you. You both cleaned up a bit and you started all over again, this time straddling him on the seat.  He let you lead this time and you explored his hard, fit body, covering his face and chest in kisses.  When you lowered yourself onto him, your palms were flat against his chest as you mewled your release, and you held him through his.  It was incredible.  When he walked you to your door early that morning, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him as if it would be the last time you’d have the chance.  You could tell you took his breath away as he came up for air.

“I love you,” you said, looking into his eyes and never meaning anything more in your life.

He smiled and pulled you to him.  “I love you too,” he whispered in your ear.

As he drove away, your mind was filled with your future, the two of you living a life full of nights like tonight.  As you drifted off to sleep, you could still feel his skin on yours.

 You shared, but not quite all of it, with your seatmates.  

“So if he’s so amazing, why won’t he be there when you arrive?” Ransom asked.

You knew hurt crossed your face, it was impossible to hide.  “Our lives, they just went different directions. I never thought they would, but they did.  And then –“ You let out a shaky sigh.  “Then he didn’t need me anymore.”  Your voice trailed off.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” said Steve, sounding like a father.  “It’s ok.”

“Maybe you should,” said Ransom, “get it all out so that if you’re disappointed when we land, it’s not so bad.”

You rested back against your seat and played it in your mind again. You told them a little about after high school and where you both ended up.

“It was my fault.  I gave up on us.  I pushed him away.  He wasn’t my priority.  For all I know, it didn’t even hurt him.  I’m sure it was much easier with me out of the way.”

“That’s a lot of conjecture,” said Ransom.  “Sounds like you had your reasons.”

“I guess he couldn’t really help being away from you,” said Steve sympathetically.  “I can tell you from experience there’s nothing worse than being separated from the one you love most.”

Ransom rolled his eyes.  “We all make choices,” he said sarcastically.

Steve sighed.  “I don’t regret any I’ve made,” he said sternly.

“Then be prepared to deal with the consequences.”  He looked at you.  “If your boyfriend really loved you, he wouldn’t have taken a job shrouded in so much mystery.  He would’ve been available to you.  Maybe him taking the job was just the coward’s way of saying he wanted to explore other options.”

“Or maybe he felt it was what he needed to do to take the best care of her,” said Steve.  You heard what you bet was probably his captain’s voice.

Ransom looked him dead in the eye.  “Look Captain Self Righteous, if love is that important to you, there’s nothing that says you’ve had to take the chances you’ve taken.  You didn’t have to become a super soldier either. Choices.  If Y/N’s boyfriend had made her a priority, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Steve gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head.

“I honestly don’t blame him for moving on, I just wish he’d tried harder to tell me we were through.  That’s all.” Tired of talking, you opened your book, put on your headphones and tried to get lost in the story.

 “Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Yes, barely,” you answered.  The connection was bad.  Who knew where he was calling from, or what kind of signal he had.  

“Don’t hang up,” he said hopefully.

“I won’t.”

It was the next natural step for you to go to college, but he needed something else. He was adventurous, energetic, crazy almost, and he needed something else.  So he’d joined the Army as you went away to school.  You were scared to be separated but he’d assured you the bond you had couldn’t be broken.  He got to explore the world, facing difficult situations and enjoying the adrenaline rush. You couldn’t help but worry but he told you not to, he was in his element.  And despite the distance, you’d made up for the time with letters, texts, phone calls, photos and even intimacy via cell phone.  Your senior year of college began the same time as the last year of his enlistment.  About halfway through the year, you sensed something had changed.  He was disillusioned with his superiors and had fallen in with a group of soldiers that were fed up.  

Each time he’d visit somewhere new, he’d send you a memento.  “Wish you were here with me.  This would be so much better with you.  Someday, I’m taking you all over the world.  I can’t wait until we’re together.”  You dreamed of it too, if you could just find the path to come back together.

Soon, many of those calls, texts and letters seemed to be from someone you didn’t know. And as he was moving forward and finding his path, you were finding yours.  You’d taken a job in Chicago, hundreds of miles from him and your grandmother.  It was your dream job, and you’d always imagined life in the city.  Some of your friends were headed that way and you talked of sharing an apartment and all the fun you’d have.  For the first time, you questioned whether he’d be a part of it.

Once graduation was over, you’d said goodbye to your grandmother and the small town where you’d grown up and headed off for your next adventure.  And he had begun his.  He left the service and took a job with the chance to make a lot of money so that the two of you could pick where you wanted to be and settle down, build your dream house and fill it with kids, just like you’d always hoped.  He just needed you to be patient with him.  

The job was tough.  He traveled for weeks without communicating and you found yourself living as if he wasn’t there anymore.  When you did speak, for the first time in your lives, it would end in a fight.  

“I’m doing my best here,” he’d say.  You could hear the stress in his voice.  “This isn’t forever.  I’m going to get to a place where we can be together and our lives will be just like we imagined.”

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, the words stinging as you said them.  “How can you be sure we should even still be together? We’re both so different.”

“We’re not, Y/N.  You’re still what I want.  We just have to hold on for a little while longer.”

 “Sounds like his job was pretty intense,” said Steve, his face looking serious.

“It was.  And very secret. He couldn’t tell me much.  I’m sure you know about that.”

“I do,” he said.  “It’s not easy to not be able to share everything with the one person you trust the most.  But sometimes it’s for your own protection.”

“I know,” you said.  “And I’m proud of him.  He didn’t always have it so easy,” she said, glancing at Ransom, “but he worked hard, and he was doing it for me.”

Ransom raised an eyebrow at you.  “I see.  I was handed everything and you think I’ve never done an honest day’s work in my life.”

You looked at his velvety smooth, sexy hands.  “Have you?”

He blinked.  “Probably not the way you think, but I’m not totally useless.  And you don’t have to risk your life every time you go to work to be successful,” he said, shooting Steve a look.

Steve grinned.  “Trust me, it’s not exactly what I would’ve chosen for myself.  It’s a situation that found me and I’ve worked hard to accept it.”

“Yes, must be brutal to be built like that.  Do you carry a club to beat the women away?  Or do you just ask them nicely to stop climbing you,” Ransom said with a sardonic smile.

You cleared your throat.  “Anyway, I could just feel things changing between us and I felt really lost, but also kind of empowered.  I’d moved away from home, stepped away from him and I was a success. And if I’m honest,” she said, eyeing Ransom, “I wondered what it might be like to date someone else.”

He let out a sarcastic laugh.

“And then everything changed…”

 A few weeks later, you’d received a text in the middle of the night.  “Meet me at the wheel at Navy Pier on the 25th at midnight.  There’s something I need to tell you.”

You’d scoffed at the invitation.  “If you’re coming to Chicago, come stay with me.  Why are we meeting at midnight?”

“It’s just the way we need to do it, for now.  Promise me you’ll be there.”

As the day approached, you found yourself immersed in work and trying to finish a project with an approaching deadline.  You didn’t understand why, after not seeing each other for so long, he wouldn’t just come to your place, let you make him dinner, spend the night with you.  Why must it be so clandestine?

You texted him – “You need to come to me.  I have a lot of work and I’m on a deadline.  If you love me, you’ll come stay with me so we can catch up properly.”

You didn’t hear back from him and on the evening he’d asked to meet you, you’d fallen asleep at your desk at home while working to finish your assignment.  

“Y/N, are you coming?”  “Where are you?”  “Please, I need to see you.”  He kept texting but the late hours you’d been keeping had you in a deep sleep.  

When your alarm went off for work, you shuffled into the shower, the hot water serving as a wake-up call.  Suddenly your eyes flew open – you’d slept through midnight!  You jumped from the shower, shampoo still in your hair, and grabbed for your phone.  It was dead. You plugged it in, finished bathing and scampered back to your nightstand for the phone.  

You read his texts and tears flooded your eyes.  He’d come all the way to Chicago and you missed him.  You called, then sent a flurry of texts but there was no response.  

He’d wanted to tell you something urgently and you’d totally blown him off.  How did you get here?  This was the love of your life.  You should’ve been there with open arms.  How long had it been since you’d held him, kissed him?  You suddenly felt as if you’d been punched in the gut.  You tried to catch your breath, frantically calling him again and again but no answer.

You began a series of texts explaining that you’d gotten caught up in work, and even though it wasn’t more important than he was, you’d fallen asleep and lost track of time.  Could you please meet him somewhere else?  You’d come to him, wherever he was.  You wouldn’t tell anyone where you were going, you just needed to see him. Despite pouring your heart out to him, there was no response.

Until one night, when you’d phoned him for the millionth time, and someone answered. “Hello?” said a sultry female voice.  Thinking you had the wrong number, you were about to speak when you heard his voice in the background.  She said his name and you heard his husky baritone, a laugh in his voice.  You quickly ended the call.

This was what he wanted to tell you – he’d found someone else.  No wonder he never called back, never returned your texts. It was over and you’d made it easy for him.

Despite the cramped quarters, both of your seatmates managed to doze off during the flight.  Steve had crammed his jacket between his head and the wall of the plane and was softly snoring.  Ransom, with no respect for body space, had allowed his head to dip over onto your shoulder.  You didn’t mind, you were glad he could rest.  You couldn’t help but feel for him.  It would be awful to have so much money, but be completely without anyone to love you, even your family.  He smelled good and you settled down into your seat, staying as still as you could.

The time was counting down until you arrived at your destination and you hadn’t read the letter.  You just didn’t think you could take it.  Hearing your grandmother’s final thoughts when she knew her life was ending (but no one else did) was almost too much.  Her last wishes were important, it was your responsibility to see them through.  With each of your seatmates comfortably resting, you slowly opened the envelope.  Your grandmother’s scent hit you immediately, and you felt tears burn at your eyes.

You unfolded the delicate stationery.  It was powder blue with a scalloped edge.  You’d bought if for her for Mother’s Day a few years back.  She loved writing letters and leaving you notes, and the delicate femininity of the paper fit her perfectly.

“My Sweet Y/N,

As you read this, please know that I’m so sorry that I’ve left you.  Raising you was my greatest accomplishment.  I made mistakes with your mother, so I worked hard to be patient with you, and really listen.  I cherish what we had and want you to know how proud I am of you, the wonderful young woman you’ve become.”

You wiped the tear that had begun to roll down your cheek and sniffed softly.  It was harder than you’d even imagined.

“I’m sorry I didn’t share my diagnosis with you until the end, but I wanted you to continue to move forward.  I knew that if I told you, you’d insist on being with me.  I didn’t want you sitting by my bed while I slept when you could be enjoying your life.  You gave me your very best, I owed it to you to let you go and find your future.”

You thought of all the times you’d meant to pick up the phone and call her, but something else had come up and you’d simply pushed her to the back of your mind.  The thought of it made you wince.  How hard would it have been to just call and say hello?   Had she not earned that from you?

“I’m not leaving much behind.  The house is yours to do with as you please.  I know it’s old and not what you might want, but I can’t help but think, knowing how good you are with decorating, that you could make it a home you’d love and enjoy.  However, if you choose to sell it, please know I’m fine with that decision as well. Don’t feel guilty.  Your future is where you make it.”

The house was certainly old and dated, not what you had in mind.  Not to mention you never planned to return to your old hometown.  You didn’t know what you’d do there if you did.  And now, there was even less reason to return.

“My biggest regret is not seeing your face when he proposed to you.  I can only imagine how it felt when he put your mother’s ring on your finger and asked you to be his wife.  That giant Ferris wheel at Navy Point was a perfect backdrop.

When he came to pick it up, he said he’d always dreamed of settling in this little house, but he knew Chicago was your home now, so he wanted to ask you in the place that was important to you.  I will rest peacefully knowing that you have someone so special to take care of you.”

You froze, then let out a strangled cry.  Steve jerked awake, his hand flying to your shoulder.

“Y/N, what is it?  Are you ok?”

Finally, you let go.  There was no holding back.  You put your face in your hands, sobs shaking your shoulders.

“Jesus, what did you do?” Ransom asked Steve as he touched your other shoulder, bending down to look at you.

“Nothing!  I woke up and she was crying.”

How could you have not seen this? Why did you doubt him?  It suddenly washed over you how he must’ve felt, standing there in the dark, alone, waiting for you, to ask you the biggest question of your lives.  

Your sobs increased, though you were trying to stifle the noise, considering you were on a full airplane with two beefcakes on either side of you worried.

“Y/N,” Ransom said, his lips close to your ear.  He put his hand on your back and rubbed gentle circles. “Talk to us.  What happened?”

You slowly sat up, Steve taking your hand in his.

“Oh my God, you guys, I blew it.  I totally blew it.  I broke his heart.  I can’t believe I did this to him.”

The two men looked at each other, question on their faces.

“Did what?” Ransom said softly.

You held up the letter.  “This is from my grandmother.  I’ve put off reading it because I was so sad to know it was the last communication I’d have with her.  He was coming to propose to me.  At Navy Pier. He picked up my mother’s ring from my grandmother,” you said softly.  Saying it out loud made it even worse. You couldn’t stop the flow of tears that fell from your eyes.

“Oh man,” Ransom said quietly, rubbing your back even more.

“Y/N, are you sure?” said Steve.

“Yes,” you sobbed, handing him the letter.  Ransom put his hand on your side and pulled you toward him, cradling you against his chest.

“It’s going to be ok,” he soothed.  “You didn’t know.  He should’ve told you he wanted to ASK you something instead of TELL you something.”

You blinked and sat up, looking at him.  “I mean, I don’t know if it would have mattered.”

“Of course it would’ve,” he said.  “This isn’t on you, it’s on him.  He should’ve been adamant that he wanted to ask you something.”

Steve handed you the letter back.  You could see the sadness on his face.  “I’m sure he was upset,” he said softly.  “He’d probably been waiting until the right moment.”

You scrunched up your face, fresh tears flowing.

“Jesus,” Ransom whispered to Steve, “you could at least be supportive.”

You wiped your finger under your eye to catch a tear before it dropped on the letter.  Your heart was racing and you couldn’t catch your breath.  You felt as if your stomach had dropped to your feet.  It was a desperate feeling, knowing what you knew and not being able to reach out to him and tell him how badly you’d screwed up.  

“You ok?” Steve asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said.  “And here I thought when I sat down in this seat I couldn’t feel worse.”

Steve laid his hand on your arm, squeezing a little.  “If everything you said about the two of you is true, this is something you can overcome.  It was a misunderstanding.  If those feelings are there, you’ll be able to fix it.”

You sniffed and wiped at your nose.  “Well, that’s the burning question, isn’t it?  How could he still have feelings for me after what I did.”

It was Ransom’s turn to bolster your confidence a bit.  “Look, misunderstandings happen all the time. And honestly, you hadn’t seen him in so long – did he not think you’d have misgivings about what he had to say when he wouldn’t come and stay with you?  He could’ve come to your place and then taken you somewhere special to propose. This isn’t on you, Y/N.  This is on him.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile.  “It doesn’t really matter though, does it.  In the end, he’s gone and I’m alone.”  You laid your head back on the seat, closing your eyes to ward off more tears.

Your mind whirled with memories – the two of you hiking near your home with your beloved dog joining you; going to the annual fair and riding all the rides that made you squeal and him laugh at you; laying side-by-side in your grandmother’s hammock on the front porch.  He never just held your hand – he always intertwined your fingers. He said if you looked from above, you couldn’t tell where he began and you ended.  

 Had you really been part of such an amazing love story?  You could hear his voice saying your name as he wrapped a hand under your ear to kiss you goodnight, and you could hear it when he called you from oh-so-far-away where he was lonely and probably afraid but never let on so you wouldn’t worry.

You let out a giant sigh and pulled your phone from the storage pocket in front of you.  You’d texted him before you got on the plane because it seemed like the right thing to do as you traveled back to your past.  He was too big a part of it not to.

“Did you get a text from him?” asked Steve, looking down at your phone.

“No,” you said, “I sent him one before I got on the plane.  I always imagined he’d be there with me through everything.  I just needed to reach out to him.”

“Mind if I look?” he asked.

“Sure, why not,” she half laughed.

She scrolled to the top of the message and handed the phone to him. Steve read silently, his eyebrows scrunching in concern.

I know we haven’t talked in a long time but today is going to be hard and I need you to know how much having you in my life has meant to me.  Even though we didn’t make it to the end, like we’d hoped, my life is so much better because of you.  If I were to die tomorrow, I’d do it knowing that in my life, I was truly loved by someone special.  For so long, I didn’t know how to be me without you.

I’m so proud of you, serving our country and then taking on a dangerous job to protect others.  I never told you enough how brave you are.  When I was worried or afraid, you’d be there like a safety net, making sure my heart was protected.  I’ll never be able to thank you enough for loving me.

This is going to be a hard day.  There’s not going to be a safe landing.  Everything I had, everything that made me secure, it’s all gone.  I’m sorry that I gave up.  I’m in uncharted waters.  I should’ve fought with everything I had for you.  I hope you’re happy with someone who will appreciate you and all you have to give.  Whoever she is, she’s a very lucky girl.

Steve cleared his throat, trying to remove the giant lump that had formed there.  “Wow,” he said.  “Those are beautiful words.”

“They’re from the heart.  I felt foolish as soon as I sent them and now I feel even more stupid.  I can’t imagine how much he hates me.”

“Mind if I look?” said Ransom.

“Yeah, and then if you want, pass it across the aisle,” you said sarcastically.

Ransom rolled his eyes and his mouth turned up in a grin.  He scanned over the text.

“Damn,” he whispered.  He looked at you.  “Look, I know I don’t know you at all and this has been a little slice of our lives, an unpleasant moment we’ll forget quickly, but if this guy got this text and doesn’t respond to you, he isn’t who you say he is.  Ok, you fucked up.  You should’ve met him that night.  But this right here would be enough for me to make a U-turn.  You had something really good.”

You grinned at him.  “Ransom, are you telling me it’s possible that a girl could win your heart?”

His face flooded with color.  “No,” he said a little too boisterously.  “Trust me, anyone that can take a little of me has their hands full.”

Steve chuckled.

“What?” said Ransom defensively.

“Something tells me you’re all talk.”

Ransom narrowed his eyes at Steve.  “What does that mean?”

Steve smiled a true American hero smile.  “It means, watching you with Y/N, I think you’re really a pussycat. Go ahead and act like a tough guy, but we all know the truth.  You’re a softie just looking for the right girl.”  He couldn’t help the smug look that replaced his smile.

“Alright Captain Jackass, you go ahead with your self-righteous psychoanalysis.  I’m capable of being nice to a woman without being a softie.  Seriously, the 1940’s called and they want their word back.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the two of them.  You never thought when you sat down between these two incredible hunks that you’d share your life story with them and they’d comfort you as you discovered a secret that would haunt you the rest of your life.

Ding

“You’ll notice the fasten seat belts sign has been activated as we make our descent.  Please secure your belongings and return your tray tables to their original position. We should be arriving at our destination in a few minutes.”

“Seriously,” grumbled Ransom, “how many people have died from errantly deployed tray tables.  Is that really our biggest concern?”

You giggled a little at his words and he looked at you, the first real smile he’d smiled all day gracing his handsome face.  He had the most piercing blue eyes.  You wished he would find someone who’d give him a chance. Underneath that gruff exterior, you just knew there was a loving, caring guy.

“Need a hand?” asked Steve, taking yours in his.  You smiled and squeezed gently.

It suddenly occurred to you what awaited when he arrived.  “You must be so excited!”

“I am,” he beamed.  “I’m going to meet my baby girl soon.”

“She’s a lucky little girl,” you smiled.

“Poor thing, just trying to imagine the first guy that comes to pick her up for a date,” Ransom grinned.

Steve raised an eyebrow.  “She’ll never know, I’m locking her in her room when she turns 15,” he smiled.

Slowly the plane began to descend.  Your heart suddenly leaped into your throat as you thought about what lie ahead for you.  You thought of walking through your grandmother’s home and a feeling of loneliness washed over you, causing an ache in your chest.  

“Doing ok?” Steve asked.

You turned to him and smiled.  “Yes, thank you.”   You looked to Ransom and back to Steve.  “This has been a great flight.  Thank you both for indulging me and listening, and for your support.”  You looked at Ransom.  “I know you said this is just an unpleasant moment we’ll soon forget, but I can tell you both I’ll never forget either of you.”  You fought the tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’ll probably be awhile before I forget you as well,” said Ransom.  

Steve pulled a pen from the bag in front of him and wrote his cell number on your palm.  “Put it in your phone.  Call or text me anytime you need to talk.  I mean it.”

That ache in your heart suddenly subsided.  “Thanks.  And I mean it too.”

Within a few minutes, the plane touched down roughly on the runway, then slowed and taxied to a stop at the gate.  You pulled your bag from under the seat in front of you.  You felt lightheaded so you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.  You could do this.  

Ransom took your hand and helped you up, and you made your way behind him into the aisle, Steve behind you, his hand on your lower back.  You walked out into the boarding bridge, walking slowly behind the crowd of passengers.  In a few minutes, you’d leave these guys who you’d never see again. You took your time shuffling along, prolonging the moment.

The crowd in front of you slowed and then stopped, as passengers found those that were meeting them.  That ache clenched your chest again.  You’d make your way to the rental car desk and get a ride to take you to what would surely be a sad, nostalgic evening.

“Hmm,” said Ransom.  “Interesting.”

“What?” you asked as he blocked your view.

“Probably just a coincidence.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said skeptically.  “Seems like too much of a coincidence.”

Now you were behind both of them and you couldn’t see anything but the backs of their gorgeous heads and their pants hugging their fine asses.  It was definitely the best view of the trip and probably the best you’d have for a long time.  You snickered thinking about it.

“Well, guess we’re going to find out,” said Steve as he took a couple of steps to his right and stopped.  

You were able to see ahead now as they parted, and the first thing that caught your eye was the pink tulips – a huge bouquet of them.  You looked above the flowers at the pink Petunias t-shirt, the blonde Van Dyke on his chin, his round wire framed glasses and spikey blonde hair.  Your breath caught in your throat and you stopped, unable to move.  You felt a hand at your elbow – Steve.  You looked up at him.

“You ok?” he asked.  It was a fatherly tone and you smiled a million watt smile at him, grabbing his hand and Ransom’s arm, pulling them forward.

You walked up to him, taking him in.  He was beautiful, even better than you remembered.  His body was toned and solid, tattoos peeking out from under the t-shirt.  Blue jeans graced his long sexy legs, high top Chucks rounding out the look.  You were overwhelmed by how much you needed him. How had you lived without him for so long?

“Hey beautiful,” he said in that sexy baritone voice.  He extended the flowers to you and you took them, inhaling deeply.  

“I can’t believe it.”  Your voice was so quiet you were sure he didn’t hear you.

“I’m here Y/N.  I’m here for you.”  He pulled you to him and you lifted the flowers, wrapping your arms around his neck. He touched his nose to yours. “Did you think I’d leave you to do this alone?”

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and tried so hard to believe this was really happening.  “I didn’t expect you to be here.  Not after what I did to you.  I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.  Not until I read Gramma’s letter on this plane did I know. I can’t imagine how badly I hurt you.” You swallowed, pushing the hurt down deep.  “I understand why you moved on, I do.  And it’s ok.”

You saw the pain in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.  “There’s no one else,” he said, “never has been.  I screwed it all up.  I just did it all wrong.  I should have come to you.  I wanted to see you so bad.  I just didn’t want to put you in danger.”  He looked down and swallowed, then looked back into your eyes.  “Did you mean it?  All those things you said in that text this morning?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice strong.  “Every word.  I love you so much.”

He pressed his lips, so soft, to yours and gave you the sweetest kiss. “I love you too.  Always, Y/N.”  He kissed you again, this one deeper, his arms wrapped around you so securely.  You could die right now and it would be ok.

Suddenly, you were aware of your surroundings.  You pulled away from him, an arm around his neck, and you looked at your seatmates.

“Ransom, Steve, this is the love of my life, Jake Jensen.  Jake, these are the superstars of Row 12 that got me through this flight.”

Jake extended his hand to each of them.  “Thank you guys.  Flying is not her favorite.  Appreciate you both being so good to her.”

Ransom eyed him carefully.  “You’ve got a really great girl here,” he said to Jake.  “Don’t fuck it up.”

Steve smirked at Ransom.  “He’s right,” said Steve.  “Take good care of her.”  He looked Jake up and down with his best Captain look.

“Shit,” Jake muttered and you laughed, kissing him reassuringly.  

“Thanks guys.  You’re the best.”  You stepped forward and kissed each of them softly on the cheek.

Steve nodded and smiled, then walked towards his handler, who’d escort him to a car and whisk him away to the hospital to be by his wife’s side.

“Good luck!” you called to him and he smiled.

Ransom secured the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he approached a leggy blonde in a tight designer dress with a figure to die for.

“Hey baby,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid a kiss on him that would make a stripper blush.

“Easy babe, save some for the hotel,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and walking away.  He turned and gave you a last look, flashing you a gorgeous smile.

“Damn,” said Jake, “if I was another guy, I might be kind of jealous and insecure about that, but I’m not some other guy, I’m your guy,” he said, rubbing his nose to yours.

“And don’t you forget it,” you said, kissing him deeply before pulling him by the hand away from the gate.  

“We’re going to have to go through all of the pictures you know,” you said with a devilish grin.

“Oh God, do we have to?  I don’t need to be reminded of what a dork I was back then.”

“You’re still a dork, but a very sexy one,” you said as you walked hand in hand towards your future.

Tags:

@what-is-your-plan-today  @captainsteveamericarogers

[1-800-i-ship-it]

khun modern bf headcanons?

Hmm oof i am probably not the best person to be asking this cause I dont write fics or anything but I’ll do my best

So i realized that i just wrote plot stuff but im posting anyway cause i spent way too long on this ahaha 

apologies in advance for typos that I'm too lazy to go through and correct

Enjoy the headcanons that i wrote later + plots that i originally wrote and went on a long tangent on oops

Headcanons:

Khun would be that subtle overprotective boyfriend 

He’d just kinda silently watch from afar but he’d totally kill anybody who hurt bam in any way, shape, or form

But he’d like be SUPER sweet with bam like

Pet names yall PET NAMES like khun and bam would prob both mutually melt when they call each other pet names

Khun would always help bam with hw and whatnot, let’s pretend bam’s a physics genius cause thats just how i imagine him in modern life, always has trouble with law class (he’s  taking it just for khun so he can understand what khun’s talking about) so khun helps him

Khun would be a super smooth talker, can woo a n y b o d y, exceptional at speeches, captain of speech and debate team

Khun would never admit he’s jealous but like the whole gang would know (except for bam who’s clueless as usual) 

Like bam is friendly with everybody so khun’d just be like ugh screw yall 

But then bam always confides in him and spends a crapload amt of time with him so he knows he’s just doubting himself and he’s mad at himself about it cause he knows bam is loyal to a fault and would never betray him

When bam gets older bam uses this against him hehe

Khun would also be that bf that everyones jealous of 

Everyone would want to be with khun but he only has eyes for bam

Ignores everybody else who hits on him

Side note i still stan top!bam and bottom!khun 

Khun would also be super thoughtful and goes out of his way to help make bam’s life easier whether its doing chores or smth etc, and each time bam smiles at him and expresses his gratitude khun’s heart would melt for the 1000th time

But like secretly khun really likes confident and sexy bam

They’d probably roleplay ngl (let ur imagination wonder~)

Khun would enjoy just spending time with bam :’) just cuddling and doing mundane things, they’d be super adorable together, hugs and kisses and ah just too cute-

Khun secretly likes bdsm and bam knows this 😏they switch roles from time to time, i cant decide who’s sub/dom

Khun would plan a super elaborate proposal to bam but then somehow bam would catch him off guard and then khun would just blurt it out when they’re together <3

Khun’d always be up early to cook for bam, they both morning ppl tho khun’s always sleep deprived bc hes also a night owl 

Khun is shy with pda in public but eventually he and bam decide they dont care anymore and just hold hands and act all lovey dovey to the point where shibisu cant decide if he’s a proud dad or if he wants to throw up, rak is always proud of his turtles, endorsi and hatz literally want to throw up all the time and would die before admitting that they secretly approve of khunbam

Khun is all around a model bf that i am sure half the fandom would be willing to date but im sorry guys khun’s taken cause he’s only got eyes for bam~

Plot things/idk what they’re called:

CEO!khun and intern!bam

Assassin!khun and assassin!bam who eventually get together and destroy the corrupt system

Gdi i thought of so many while having dinner but i forgot

Hmmmm

Imagine bam as jue viole grace like forced to work in a gang or smth and then khun as the gang boss 

I totally dont have a thing for badass assassin themed things pls dont judge me

Teacher!khun and student!bam (ofc it’d be near graduation if u get my drift...😏)

Idk why i thought of this but imagine idol khun o.o wait YO idol khun + assistant bam

Tutor!khun and student!bam 

I feel like im literally just saying the same ideas

Theres a reason why im not a fic writer :’)

High school sweethearts -> angst bc parents dont approve, sad forced breakup, no contact -> get back together when older after a time-lapse when they’re more mature, heated reunion 

Best friends bam and khun since preschool, since they were in the womb, PINING, both of them scared to admit it cause they dont want to ruin their friendship, meanwhile the entire gang is betting on them getting together (aka mainly rak and shibisu betting, hatz, endorsi, anaak, (insert s2 and s3 gang dont wanna spoil) everybody etc)

Uni students with khun as a law major and bam as a cs major (both geniuses, nerd bam), roommates *insert smirk* lots of pining, blushes from them casually changing in front of each other...the rest is up to ur imagination

Khun and bam as rival sports teams coaches 

Age gap!khunbam (not a lot, somewhere between 5-8 yrs), with bam as the younger one who kept saying that he loves khun but khun just laughs it off bc bams a kid but then khun sees bam after he comes back from college and bam gets a massive glowup from clueless cinnamon roll to clueless cinnamon roll hottie who only has the hots for khun (still) and then khuns all like “fuck” *dies inside*

Single dad khun, bam as a daycare employee who keeps getting flustered by khun, khun takes interest in bam bc he doesn’t ask nosy questions like other ppl, and bam has these mesmerizing golden eyes

Tailor/dry cleaner owner!bam and office worker!khun who constantly needs his clothes to be altered so they fit exactly how he wants them to (this eventually results in awkward moments and blushing), and also dry cleans like his countless number of suits and dress shirts and whatnot

Author!khun and publishing assistant!bam (is it even called publishing assistant honestly i have no idea but u get what i mean right), khun never signs books but bam convinces him to 

Poet!khun and uni student!bam as a literature major who’s a big fan and wanted to meet khun at one of his signings but is too shy even though shibisu drags him there, accidentally bumps into khun in the bathroom, is all flustered, ends up talking to khun for super long, khun loves bam’s enthusiasm for the subject, offers to give feedback on bam’s poems, bam is literally about to combust, they have lots of meetings and khun flirts with bam who’s clueless but blushes a lot anyway, they kiss *ahem* the rest is history

Spy!khun and bam, khun realizing he doesn’t want to hurt bam, sends fake info back to his country (ruled by eduan and jahad), eduan finds out (sent khun out in the first place bc khun was a threat to him cause the ppl liked khun better), sends out an assassin to get khun, who knows this and escapes with bam somewhere, some complicated plot taht idk how to figure out but you get the drift, eventually khun rules the country with bam

Real estate agent khun and contractor bam, eventually start their own business together

Khun as student pres, also known as the ice king bc he’s turned down dating everyone who asked, bam as the transfer student who catches his attention  (bam with more of a jue viole grace complex), the silent physics genius who is also on par with khun when debating in speech and debate club 

Khun and bam as besties, always do their hw together and hang out after class (cause bam always needs help haha), something leads to them fake dating, eventually real dating 😏

Khun and bam as besties, always do their hw together and hang out after class (cause bam always needs help haha), someone (rachel, DO NOT KILL ME I HAVE A REASON) asks bam out and he doesn't know how to say no (the rest of the gang egging him to date cause they know khuns gonna be jelly) khun goes and sulks, eventually bam gets hurt and manipulated by her, khun is pissed off, rachel is reported for abuse, khun and the gang fight for bam, khun is there for bam all the time, after a while bam asks khun out of the blue if khun likes him (shibisu let it slip that khun is gay bc god knows bam is oblivious af), khun is shocked but says yes bc he cant hide it anymore, bam says he always loved khun but thought khun was straight (bc of some dumb rumor someone said) which was why he ignored his feelings and agreed to date rachel bc he just wanted to distract himself, lots of cuddling thereafter, they get together, rak wins the bet for when khunbam will get together, khunbam gets married

oh man that became way longer than i expected...anon i hope u enjoyed that? half of it prob made 0 sense ngl and idek if i answered the q properly?

kudos to you if you actually read like all my rambling :’)

[dujourmeans]

ezra joon müller ›› twenty-seven, sister sister

infp › scorpio › ravenpuff › sanguine › neutral good › long limbs, big heart, even bigger loser › wore taped glasses when he was a kid because he thought it was cool ... got made fun of it at the time ... but apparently now it's LITERALLY a cool thing to do so joke is on all those people who called him a dweeb for it › can name and spell all the united states in alphabetical order like amber atkins in drop dead gorgeous (better and quicker than, even) › used to write midterm and final papers for people for fun back during junior high and high school; didn't start charging to do it until his friends told him he was dense for losing out on so much easy $$$$ › had to suffer through relentless scouting attempts from basketball and soccer coaches due to a sudden growth spurt he went through in his sophomore year; they only stopped after he cried to them that he'd miss his favorite after school programs on pbs if he took up on extracurriculars › didn't realize that he could've just dvr-ed everything in replacement of a real social later until a much later date. kinda regrets it now, but whatever. you snooze, you lose › was always pretty cute growing up, but didn't really notice or care (tbh) › a big fan of the entire contents of the time life: soft rock playlist (jim croce, dan fogelberg, jimmy buffett, alan parsons project, air supply, you name it); usually cries when listening to it while drunk › used to spend his weekends during his late teens mentoring and tutoring little kids › peaced out of bellows falls for four years to attend university in new york city, came back hotter apparently, but that depends on who you're talking to › big cher fan, met her once, cried about it for a week after › also a big fan of pierce brosnan's singing in mamma mia ("i'd like you see you try") › one of those types that actively tried to get in the middle of fights to stop them only to come out of it either with a fat lip (probably that he gave to himself unintentionally) or in tears at the chaos of it all › virgin who couldn't drive until he was, like, twenty-one › still can't drive well › goes through tic tacs faster than michael cera in juno › can't spell hippopotamus ("hippipotamus?") › moved back to the city three years ago with a ... you know, teaching degree › spend all the time between then and last spring working as an assistant to a variety of teacher's logcally; kicked off his career as a kindergarten teacher at the beginning of this school year and it's, as expected, rad › doesn't like quentin tarantino › devon crane backed into him with her back back during high school and he did an impressive fly forward because of it ala jonah hill in superbad (you know, when he got hit by joe lo truglio here) › stuck somewhere in the middle of a whole slew of kids (one older bio sib, two older step slash adoptive sibs, and three or four younger half-siblings - he’s lost count) › was born ezra kwon, but his biological dad peaced out when he was two months old and his mom married mr. müller not long after so he’s all he really knows (and that’s fine because he adopted him and his older sibling and they took on his last name and such anyway) 

needs ››

fellow dweebs. fellow dweebs turned hotties. (insert trademark logo here.) other people who work the local #school system. probably a super awkward ex from high school, and some ... awkward, like, tinder dates from recently. possibly one or two people around his age that he lives with in a big and probably haunted old house. people who know his siblings????? (ex: his sister ettie who he’s closest in age to.)

[insideabunker]

The Games: Chapter 1

Inspired by this year’s USWNT Gold Medal victory.  An Olympic Hockey AU where Clarke is the Captain of the U.S. Women’s National team and Lexa is the new star goalie for team Canada.

“Ow! Shit!” Clarke grimaced as the team trainer, Eric Jackson, wound a roll of plastic wrap around the ice bag shrouding her knee.

“Is the pain worse than normal?” The young man paused, peering suspiciously at the sweaty, miserable woman seated in front of him.  Clarke Griffin was not a model patient per se.  No one could accuse her of being a prima donna when it came to the bumps and bruises typical of a hockey player, but then again, she was never one to admit to an injury either.  The latter fact worried the trainer much more than the former.

She shook her head, jaw clenched. "No.  The ice is just cold is all."

Clarke closed her eyes.  Refusing to acknowledge the throbbing in her knee, she resigned herself to suffer through the uncomfortable rehabilitation measure in silence. 

"Clarke, playing through an injury is a young woman's game.  You've been at this for eight years now. You need to start being more cautious."

Jackson avoided his patient's gaze, though he could feel her withering gaze.  He heard her sigh and felt her shift uncomfortably as he adjusted the binding around her leg.

"I promise I'm fine. It's just a little overuse pain.  I swear I'd tell you if I thought I'd re-injured it."

Jackson stared down at the star athlete discerningly, weighing the truthfulness of her statement. One eyebrow rose, and he squinted skeptically.

"You promise?"

"Promise."

"Good," he nodded as he finished wrapping her leg, "because you can't lead a team from the bench, Captain Griffin."

Clarke growled, bright blue eyes rolling at the always gregarious gentleman.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves.  Coach Kane hasn't announced anything yet."

Jackson smirked, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

"Come on Griffin; you're a shoe-in.  2014 NCHC Player of the Year. 2014 NCHC scoring champion, four First Team All-American selections, Bob Allen award recipient, five-time IIHF Women's World Championship medalist..."

He paused wiggling his eyebrows, "four of those medals being gold.  Plus, you're a two-time Olympic veteran, and..."

"And the slowest person from red line to red line, the second oldest by two years and the only person on this team to miss a full season of play due to injury. Kane is as likely to cut me as he is to pin a C on me."

Clarke finished the statement for him, looking discouragingly at her ice wrapped knee.  She heaved herself off the bench, groaning as she stood and made her way towards the training room door.  Jackson grabbed his medical supply bag, following hot on her heels, undeterred in his enthusiasm.

"You bounced back from what would probably have been a career-ending injury for anyone else.  You've dedicated yourself to this team beyond what any reasonable person would expect of you, and you've become a role model for every woman in this organization, not to mention countless young girls out there.  Stop being modest. Nobody deserves that C more than you do.  Coach Kane would be crazy not to give it to you."

Clarke continued down the hall towards the locker room, doing her best to cover her discomfort as she walked.

"Raven is just as talented, and she didn't miss the last IIHF appearance."

"Raven is a phenomenal player, but she's not a leader."

Clarke shot Jackson an annoyed glare, her objection to the statement evident.

"You're selling her short."

Jackson sighed.  "Okay, I agree that Raven has leadership qualities, but they are unrefined.  She's impulsive, and frankly, a little immature.  I'm sure she'd make a good captain, one day.  Right now though, everyone is looking to you for leadership.  You know it, I know it, and I'm telling you, Coach Kane knows it as well.

The two burst through the swinging doors that separated the women's locker room from the main hall and immediately descended into a scene of utter chaos.  Balled up wads of stick tape were being tossed back and forth in every direction and jets of icy cold liquid flew through the air, showering anyone within range.

"Take it back!"

Raven ducked, dodging an errant tape ball that had just been hurled her way and immediately retaliated by blasting her attacker, an already soaked Octavia, with spray from her water bottle.

"I take nothing back!"

Raven snatched her goalie stick off the floor and used it to deflect another tape ball.  The trash bounced directly into the annoyed face of Harper McIntyre, one of the team's defenseman.  

"Your brother is a first class hottie with a rockin' bod, Octavia. End of story."

Raven grinned maniacally at the younger girl. "Just out of curiosity, is Bellamy packing a pistol or a shotgun when it comes to his... You know."

She pointed towards her lower torso and winked, her merriment only increasing as she watched the rookie winger's face turn from pale pink to bright red.

Clarke rolled her eyes at the scene.  Teasing Octavia about her brother, Bellamy, the team's new assistant coach had become Raven's favorite pastime as of late.  The game always seemed to escalate into pandemonium if Clarke wasn't there to play mediator.

"On second thought, maybe I should just ask him myself."

"Ugh! You're so gross!"  Octavia grabbed a loose piece of locker room debris and lobbed it at Raven contemptuously.  Before the wadded-up garbage could find purchase, it was snatched out of the air by a furious looking Marcus Kane.

"Care to try again?"

All revelries immediately ceased.  As the realization of just how unamused Coach Kane looked dawned on the ladies, a dead silence fell over the room.  The women hurried to compose themselves, each one scrambling to resume their place in front of their ordained lockers.  A moment later, only Jackson and Clarke were left standing in the middle of the floor.

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Miss Griffin?" Coach Kane eyed the veteran forward, frowning as he waited for her to take the hint.

"No, sir."  Clarke hustled to her locker, taking great care not to betray any hint of her limp as she moved.

As soon as she took a seat, Kane turned to Jackson, clearing his throat.

"Mr. Jackson, if you wouldn't mind making yourself scarce for a moment, I need a word with my team."

Jackson nodded, hurrying back through the swinging doors, in no hurry to be on the receiving end of a Marcus Kane telling off.  The moment he was gone Kane's expression turned deadly serious.

"The walls have ears, ladies."

He folded his arms behind his back and began pacing slowly down the rows of lockers, eyeballing each player sternly.

"Nowhere is that truer than at the Olympic level.  When you ladies put on a Team USA jersey and step into the international spotlight, you do so as ambassadors of your home nation and role models to young women everywhere."

He turned, marching back in the other direction.

"One misconstrued comment, one joke taken out of context, and you besmirch the character of this team, and erode the good name of female athletes the world over."

He paused, shooting an annoyed glare at Raven Reyes, the team's starting goalie.

"Lewd and lascivious comments regarding teammates, coaches, and staff are unacceptable, and will not be tolerated.  Such behavior detracts from the esprit de corps we have worked so hard to cultivate, to say nothing of creating a climate of sexual misconduct that is beneath the dignity of this program."

Kane paced back to the middle of the locker room floor, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room.

"There exists no greater joy in life than making the game you love your profession, and make no mistake ladies, playing for Team USA is a profession.”

Kane stressed the last word, adding an extra sense of gravity to it.

"This arena is a workplace, and while you are here, you will conduct yourselves in a professional, respectful manner befitting the prestige of Team USA Hockey.  Which means..."

He swung his arms in front of him, rolling back on his heels as he crossed them over his chest.

"Check the grab ass at the door and save the details of your exploits for after hours."

He shot Raven, who was now staring at her feet bashfully, another stern glance.  Satisfied that he had made himself clear, Kane uncrossed his arms and began stomping off towards the coach's suite.  He paused as he passed Clarke, lingering just long enough to place a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"My office, Griffin. Five minutes."

As soon as he'd left the locker room, the air filled with murmuring.  Clarke could hear fragmented bits of conversation, words like "cut" and "retired," though she did her best to ignore them as she pulled on her sweats.  A moment later, a shameful Raven extended a hand to her, helping her up from the bench.

"He could be making you captain."

"He could be sending me home."

"He's not.

Clarke stared at Raven, once her rival, now her oldest friend on the team.  She felt a pang of nostalgic as she remembered their first season together, nearly a decade ago.  Those days seemed like another lifetime now, a lifetime in which being too old or too slow would never become a reality.  Those had been the best years of Clarke's life, and whatever fate awaited her in Coach Kane's office, she was determined to remain stoic.

"Guess we're about to find out."

Without another word, she zipped up her hoodie and exited the locker room, afraid if she lingered her emotions would get the better of her.  Clarke's mind shifted into autopilot as she drifted down the long hallway toward the stairs that lead to the coach's suite.  Her heart beat faster as she climbed upwards.  Her palms sweated.  Her ears buzzed with white noise.  Her body trembled with the kind of nervous energy that was precipitated only by life-changing moments such as this one.

 She barely registered passing through the small waiting area and into the back until her hand had wrapped around the polished knob on the entrance to Kane's office.  Suddenly, all Clarke could do was stare at the placard on the door.

"Marcus D. Kane - Head Coach”

Clarke remembered the staring at a similar placard years ago, one tacked to a rickety wooden door in an ice rink in Bemidji, Minnesota.  Back then, she'd felt like a tiny child cowering in front of the principal's office on her first day at a new school.  Eight years later, she and the grizzled head coach had built a comfortable rapport, a relationship grounded in mutual respect and admiration.  That fact didn't stop her from feeling anything but apprehensive every time she walked through the door of his office.

Clarke remained frozen, unable to get air into her lungs or move her hand.  She reckoned at least three minutes passed before she was able to regain her composure.

"Have some courage," she thought, critical of her timidity. "Take a breath, go in there and see what's going on."

Finally, she turned the handle, opened the door, and found herself staring directly into the piercing gaze of Marcus Kane.

"Have a seat, Clarke."

Coach Kane gestured to the spare chain on the other side of his immaculately kept desk.

Her nerves getting the better of her, Clarke crossed the room slowly.  She lowered herself into the chair as though it were a bed of nails; her hands clenched around armrests, her knuckles white.

"You wanted to talk to me, Coach?"

Kane pressed the tips of his fingers together in front of his face, creating a steeply.  He flexed them a few times before reaching for a small framed photograph on his desk, pushing it towards her.

"Remember this?"

Clarke stared at the scrawny blond teenager in the photograph, grinning like a maniac as she and a taller, olive-skinned girl waved tiny American flags from the cheap seats of a second-rate airline.  An annoyed Coach Kane looked on in mock embarrassment.

"Of course I do.  That was the day we left for Vancouver."

He nodded.  "Your first Olympics. You were the youngest player I'd ever selected; barely old enough to vote, let alone represent your country on the global stage."

Clarke nodded, running her fingers over the glass.  "I kept thinking you were going to change your mind."

"I almost did.”

Marcus held out his hand for the photograph and gave it a wistful look before placing back on the desk.

"Twice. The second time was right before the games. The board tried to convince me that taking someone so young would be a disaster."

"And the first?"

Kane hesitated, considering the question carefully.

"It was when I read the player profile the Olympic scouts sent me about you.  I took one look at your height and weight, and I almost discarded it right then and there.  I remember thinking that nobody your size could ever complete at such a high level."

Forever sensitive about her stature, the blonde tried not to be offended by his comment.

"What changed your mind?"

"Just before I closed your file, I saw where you came from."

"What is that? Some weird form of nepotism?"

Clarke furrowed her brow, skeptical that her always pragmatic coach would have considered her solely based on their mutual hometown.

Kane leaned over towards her, resting on his forearms.

"Did you know that no U.S. Olympic hockey team has ever won gold without a player from Warroad, Minnesota on the roster?"

"Is that true?"

He nodded.  "You come from one of the oldest and strongest hockey traditions in the world, Clarke.  As soon as I saw that you came from Warroad, I knew exactly the kind of player you were; unselfish, dedicated, indomitable. The type of skater who earns her spot, over and over again, every day.  I spend years trying to teach players that kind of hockey, but you... I never had to teach you. You were born into that tradition."

Kane's face finally lost some of its intensity.

"And if I hadn't been convinced to give you a look at that, I certainly would have been after I realized who your dad was."

The mention of her late father, Kane's former high school teammate, stirred conflicting emotions in Clarke.  Once upon a time, her memories of Jake had all been images of him teaching to shoot pucks in their driveway, or cheering her on during games. In the year since his death, new memories had begun to eclipse her time with him; memories of an empty spot in the stands, and of a house that had stopped feeling like home after his death.

"He'd be so proud of everything you've accomplished, Clarke.  I hope you know that."

She smiled, blushing a little as she stared at her feet.  "I know."

An awkward silence permeated the room as the two waited for the ghost of Jake to dissipate.  Finally, Kane leaned back in his chair, his face emotionless.

"The hardest part of my job is telling players when their time is up."

Clarke's jaw clenched, her head remaining down, unable to look her coach in the eyes.  Every muscle in her body tensed as she prepared for the crushing blow he was about to deliver.

"Eight years ago I took a chance on a scrawny kid from Northern Minnesota, and in eight years I haven't spent a single second regretting that decision.  You are, without a doubt, the hardest-working player I've ever had the privilege of coaching.  You are talented beyond question and selfless to a fault.  You've given more to this team than any coach could ever ask of a player, and you have done so enthusiastically and without complaint. When you tore your ACL, I worried that you might never put on skates again, let alone play another period of hockey.  You proved me wrong.  You battled back. You worked harder than ever to rehabilitate yourself. You learned to adapt, and reinvented the way you played the game. But..."

Clarke's eye screwed shut, and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. 

"I can't ignore the fact that you've slowed down.  You still have better on-ice vision, and a quicker stick than just about any player out there but, speed-wise, your metrics are down across the board."

Kane paused, staring across the desk at the player who he'd come to consider a kind of surrogate daughter.

"Clarke, please, look at me."

It required every ounce of her determination for Clarke to raise her head.  She clenched her bottom lip between her teeth, determined not to burst into tears.

"I think you and I both know that this will be your last Olympics."

It took more than a moment to process the statement, but when the weight of Kane's words finally dawned on her, Clarke's breath caught in her throat.

"Wait. If this is my last Olympics, then you're not.."

The corners of Kane's mouth twisted upward almost imperceptibly. It barely qualified, but it was a smile if you looked carefully.

"I need a leader, Griffin."

He fished something out of his pocket and, keeping it covered with his hand, slowly slid the item across the desk.

"No U.S. Olympic hockey team has ever won gold without a player from Warroad, Minnesota on the roster."

With that, Kane turned his hand over, revealing its contents.  There, clutched reverentially in his palm, was a captain's C.

Next Chapter ->

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[zepskies]

SMALLVILLE MASTERLIST

Jason Teague 🏈

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut) Stories are Jason Teague x Reader unless otherwise noted.

Assistant Hottie Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university.

Miss Professor Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang. - [Sequel to "Assistant Hottie"]

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Jason Teague would react to you sleepwalking. 😴

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[its-moopoint]

Anon Submission: Random thoughts

Hey my friend,

1. If you are private from the get go of a relationship that no one knew you had  and you are a celebrity of any kind you would not do a 180 announcing your engagement period.  You certainly would not telegraph the whole event like C did. ( That was a red flag because C has never really done that before)

2. The pap walk????  That makes no sense. She has already established that T is very private/shy.  We already know he likes to where shades and play with sticks.  What does this accomplish when she does the pap walk in Ireland which we found out no one gives a shit about celebrities and no one ever does them.  

3.Why would a strong woman feel the need to show that this engagement is real when there are only a few of us who don’t believe it???? Still makes no sense!  She has already shown she doesn’t care about shippers.

4.  I completely understand when she said in the magazine interview about not being into wedding planning.  I get it.  Like I have said before, my husband and I eloped. No headaches, No stress.  Easy Peasy!  What I don’t understand is the lack of emotion about any of it.  You can go back to every time C/T are together anywhere… No emotion, Nothing.  You can be private and shy whatever she wants to say about T but I see absolutely nothing from him when they are together.  At the GG she was either running from him or when they were together it looked forced.  She has not looked happy in a very long time.  

5. After looking at the interview she recently did, it says a lot when she over explains things when she doesn’t have to.  All she had to say was that Turtle soup was her favorite because its fun to play a drunk. That’s it.  She didn’t have to mention S which I thought was a slip.  Also, if she didn’t want to go there she could have mentioned another scene.  

6. I have always felt something major happened before the morning show interview.  If C is engaged to T ( That is a big if) she told S before they were suppose to go on the morning show and all hell broke loose. The other could be that she and her people thought up this stupid fake engagement and he didn’t like it.  

Sorry that my thoughts are all over the place and not in order of events.  All I have to say is that this is becoming really ridiculous that people that are pushing 40 years old are acting like this.  I’m assuming or hoping that there is a good reason for all of this but it’s becoming very boring.  

PS..Spain is scaring me just a little.  I have been rooting for them since the US is not at the World Cup… I also have a crush on the Morocco coach.  Too bad they are out.  I will miss seeing him..LOL  (I believe they play Spain for there last game.)

Have a great day!  

Hi there sis!! As always you make such great points. Funny how with how boring things are and no news that’s said to be good news we tend to go revisit all this stuff. It’s interesting because sometimes with after a while and with new data or a new perspective we get theories we hadn’t thought of or find out feelings change regarding a certain event so I’m gonna share what your points made me think of. 

1. We are not as dumb and delusional as many claim if by the time we saw Cait’s first tweets announcing her Australian trip we already said something was brewing and coming and it stunk. Also as @pissedoffsoka13 states there’s a difference between being private and secretive so C had many chances to state Maestro was her partner and ask everyone (press, fans, etc) to leave him out of it all (still freaking puzzling that he would be her assistant so he would need to be at most trips, and events and awards).  2. I still don’t know for whose benefit the pap walk was. We know now it was around the time she shot that article for the magazine in London and she already knew about her movie role so it wasn’t for buzz in order to catch the casting people’s attention was it? 

3. Way to go about showing how “real” the engagement is with a pap walk that made even Irish people laugh and scream wtf. And she should care about shippers, they are the ones catching her on all her slips, making gifs of her heart-eyes when she stares at Sam and creating fabulous Maestro stuff. 

4. I hear you. I always say I’m gonna get married in Vegas and send my family and friends a photo afterwards just to avoid all the planning stuff (hello, one year to my bro’s wedding and we talk about and hear is wedding talk). Again the shy card. Your guy can be shiest in the world and he would still grab and hold your hand in public when he accompanies you somewhere. Not all the time, but at some point your instinct is gonna make you touch each other, reach out for each other...and you are right these two never do that. Never. Now if we look at Roland and Mary, that’s a whole different story. 

5. I still haven’t watched the interview, just checked out the soup bit once and I enjoyed it so much when she was just looking at the window trying to think of what to say. Again she could mention the scene and remember the shooting being extra funny but for her to quote what Sam exactly said many months ago that must have been such a pretty “stiff one” moment. Cheeky bastard making her blush and she being all like I can’t believe you said that. 

6. You are not alone there. Many see that as a pivotal point too. Problem is if the engagement is real and it happened around that time she lied when she claimed it happened during the break and over Christmas time. Morning show was before that. It fits better with the theory of the engagement sham being planned at that moment. 

One day we’ll hear the reason for all this. I know we will. PS: I have no nails left after last night’s game!! freaking hell, just with just short advantage. Thank god we made it. And omg I had missed the coach, you are right he is a hottie. Makes you think of sugar daddies LOL 

[sehunpeachy]

not interested (m)

⇒pairing: hoseok x reader

⇒genre: enemies to lovers | explicit smut, fluff, angst

⇒length: 20k

⇒summary: nobody has ever succeeded at swooping you off your feet. that is until you become coach assistant for your college’s swim team and maybe then, you learn everybody deserves a chance at love.

a/n: i promise my next fic WONT be a college enemies to lovers au lmao its just so fun to do. i gotta thank @junghaze for being my beta reader and practically saving this fic from the dead i cant be more grateful

Frankly, everybody wanted position for assistant coach. The benefits it reaped went far beyond missing a few periods of class and something to put down on the job resume. Mainly, everybody wanted it for the swim squad that went with it.

Unfortunately, you only made that discovery after you got accepted.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flick up.

“You’re the new assistant coach, right?”

“Oh,” you say with a dreadful realization. That’s the fourth time this hour. “Yeah, I am.”

“Cool.” You could tell this guy was a social butterfly with the way he rolled up a chair to your table so casually, like you were old friends. “Nice to meet you. I’m one of the swimmers on the team.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him, placing your book down. So this guy was part of the infamous swim squad.

And then, you understood all the fuss. He was gorgeous. Hair styled down so effortlessly, a chiseled jaw, warm brown eyes. Even when he smiled up at you, his teeth were so white and aligned, straight out of commercials.

“Don’t mind my hair,” he comments, chuckling and ruffling it around. “It’s probably bleached with so much chlorine at this point.”

“It looks fine,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

He cocked up an eyebrow, smiling sheepishly. “Really? Does it look as good as yours?”

You don’t know what to say.

You were flustered, but not for the reason he probably wants you to be. You couldn’t believe that guys could flirt so openly like this. And to girls they just met? Please.

“Not quite as good as mine,” you retort, picking your book up again.

He laughs. It’s a nice laugh, slightly taken back albeit, but nice nonetheless.

“What are you reading there?” His fingers hover over, brushing against the backbone of the novel. Your eyes leave the words on the page and fall back into his gaze.

“You always flirt with your assistant coaches?”

You notice his mouth gapes open a little at your comment. Clearly he isn’t used to this type of treatment. “Just the pretty ones,” he replies nonetheless.

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll let you get back to your reading. What should I call you?”

“Y/N.”

“Coach Y/N.”

You chuckle. “And your name?”

“Kim Seokjin, but Jin for you.”

“You should shave your arms, Kim Seokjin. Don’t you know body hair increases drag underwater?”

A pause. “Aye aye.” And with that, Seokjin leaves a little red in the face. You watch him, slightly slump as he walks. Whatever his mission was, it hadn’t worked.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You roll over, shuffling the bed sheets around so you could look at her properly.

“When do swimming practices start?” Yeri asks.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Shouldn’t you be telling me when swimming practices start?”

You huff, rolling over again so you’re lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m so done with all this swimming talk.”

“Why?” You hear her shuffle around in her bed too. “You haven’t even started.”

“Exactly,” you reply. “At least twenty people asked me if I was the new assistant coach, and then another twenty asked me what I did to get the job. One girl even offered her lunch for me to give the job to her.”

“Did you take it?”

“Of course,” you reply. “She has to wake up pretty early tomorrow. 5 am to be exact.”

“Damn,” Yeri mumbles. “I feel bad for the poor girl. I’m sure her classes don’t start till 11.”

“You know, I think you’re right. What a terrible fate. Thank god I gave it over.”

“At least she’ll be surrounded by hot wet guys, right?” Yeri turns over and you look at her. “Too bad she doesn’t ever get flustered by men. Like there’s a clog up her or something.”

“The job isn’t too ogle your eyes at them, you know?”

“Please.” She reaches over to turn on the lamp on her bedside table. Your eyes blink frantically to adjust to the brightness. “I would give up a limb to have your position.”

“You need three years of high school experience as a swimming coach volunteer to get in, not a limb,” you say with pride before rubbing your eyes intensively to simulate darkness. “Can you turn off the light already?”

“I just want you to know the amount of potential you have,” she replies, arm dangling off the side of her bed. “Five wet hotties, constantly fawning for your attention—”

You interrupt her with a laugh. “I think you’ve been watching too many rom-coms.”

“I’m just saying,” she joins in with your laughter, “it’s one thing to look at them, but a whole ‘nother to know and talk to.”

“Not too sure about that,” you groan, “already met one of them.”

“You did?” Yeri shoots up from her bed and it really perplexes you how such a small person could have so much energy this late into the night. “Who?”

You rack your brain for the name. “Seokjin.”

“What? Kim Seokjin?”

“Exactly what I said.” You dismiss her nervous giggles and muffled shrieks at the mention. A hopeless romantic stays hopeless and romantic.

“And?” She eggs on. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“Sucks at flirting.”

“He flirted with you?” Yeri falls back on the bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re so lucky. You know, the swim team stays within the swim team.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” she rolls her eyes, “the boyfriend potential is off the roof. It’s a perfect opportunity to finally score.”

You almost scoff. Maybe for anybody else, but not you. You had the natural tendency to push boys away, notably those who sought after you in short-lived chases with bitter endings, because truth be told, none of them ever made you feel an ounce of what you presume love and infatuation was supposed to feel like.

If this was a perfect opportunity to find a boyfriend, you would be the first to miss it.

“Got it,” you say to Yeri just so she could drop the subject and go back to sleep.

“Just give it a chance,” she smiles, her eyes softening. “Please—”

“Okay, okay,” a giggle peeking at your lips. “Now can we go back to sleeping?”

She gives you a big grin, leaning over to switch her lamp off as you roll over to face the wall.

The walk to the swimming pool was a route you had only really taken during the university tour. A week ago, you would have had no absolutely business going down there. The place was far west from the main buildings, almost hidden by the path of twiddling trees and scatter of autumn leaves.

And fuck, were you tired. It was still the early creeks of the morning and the campus was completely empty, as if you were the last person on earth.

“There you are!”

You had met the swim coach just once before, and that was for the job interview. He was a man with great stature with a large voice to match, one that you could practically hear it halfway across campus during afternoon practices.

He was standing by the gym doors, all in his gear; tucked white tee and high waisted black shorts with an obnoxiously orange whistle around his neck.

“Here I am,” you reply. He greets you with a big smile, offering a handshake with even bigger hands.

“Glad to have you join, Miss Y/N. You familiar with this side of campus?”

“Not really,” you say, releasing your grip from his tight one.

“That’s good.” He turns away from you, producing a key from his pant pocket and unlocking the door. “I’ve had multiple—unpleasant encounters with girls trynna sneak in during a practice for the boys, and it’s only the first semester.”

Your face twists at his words. “They can’t be that interesting.”

He smiles again. “Come on in. We’ll get you your own key in a week or so.” He keeps the door at bay, motioning for you to enter through first. “This is the gym, it holds the basketball court, but the place you only need to go through is through there,” he points to a set of doors to your left. “Those lead to the changing rooms, and the pool.”

He leads you through the said doors and into a corridor, completely white, walls tiled with the AC turned up all the way. There was a distinctive smell of chlorine invading your nostrils, one that vaguely surrounded Seokjin the other day. Two doors stand; a boys’ and girls’ changing room.

Coach checks the worn down watch around his wrist. “They should be out here by now.”

You purse your lips, deciding not to say anything.

“I’ll check up on them.” He swings the door to the boys’ changing room open, consequently almost colliding with the boy in front of him. “God Jungkook, watch where you’re going,” Coach grumbles. “The others ready yet?”

Jungkook, this new boy, hesitantly makes his way out from the changing room. “Not yet,” he responds, eyeing at you with curiosity.

Yet again, you understood why this swim team was the talk of the town. Soft chestnut hair framing his thin complexion, big round eyes, a nice built.

Then he smirks. Ugh.

“Hey there,” you say, pushing back the arising feelings of displeasure. “I’m Y/N, the new assistant coach.”

“Hey,” he slurs. “Jungkook.”

You purse your lips again. “Right.”

Jungkook begins inching closer to you, resting a hand behind his head. “Nobody told me you would be a girl—”

The doors burst open and another boy appears. “Jungkook, did you take my deodorant?”

The first thing you think of when you see this guy was fox. Swift movements, a mischief riddled face. His sharp eyes landed first on Jungkook, then you.

“Oh, hey, you the new coach?” He walks over to drape his arms over Jungkook, who looked a little relieved he had dropped the previous accusation and also a bit annoyed he had just interrupted his flirting session.

“Yeah, I’m—”

“Jin told us about you,” the new boy interrupts. Your eyebrows rise. “He said you were a bi—”

“Uh, Tae,” Jungkook stops him. “Let’s not.”

The boy rolls his head over to look at Jungkook under his arm, snapping his gaze back to you after a few silent seconds. “Right. I’m Taehyung.”

The Coach enters through the doors again, making a loud and grand entrance as he always seemed to do. “Okay, let’s get started.” Two more boys follow behind him, pouring out from behind the large man in front of them.

One of them you instantly recognize as Seokjin. He walks by Taehyung’s side, only noticing you after a few seconds. His eyes widen and then relax, ignoring how Taehyung begins to nudge at his side and sneer into his ear.

You recognize the other boy too, but not right away. You were sure he was in one of your classes, but you couldn’t place which one. He stands by the Coach, placing his elbow on his shoulder, struggling a little because of the height difference.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N,” Taehyung says, looking at you with his head tilted to the side. “Jimin wants to seem taller for you.”

“You rascal,” Jimin hisses, dropping his elbow and jabbing at Seokjin’s ribcage when he laughs.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Coach says, gesturing to you. You had been silently standing and observing all the different saturated personalities in the room, so the emphasize of your presence had caught you a bit off guard. “She’s our new assistant coach. Anyways, let’s just get started, we wasted the lesson already.”

“Hoseok isn’t here,” Jimin says.

“Snitch,” Jungkook whispers under his breath.

Coach rubs his forehead. “We don’t have time—”

Everybody’s attention is suddenly diverted as the pool doors are swung open. Hoseok, as you presume, rests against the door frame, completely out of breath as if he ran all the way here.

“Coach—”

“Get changed, Jung!” Coach yells, throwing up a hand in exasperation. Hoseok nods once, jogging past the rest of the team and into the changing rooms. His exit is just as abrupt as his entrance and you don’t think much of it.

“Guess who’s doing extra laps,” Jimin whispers.

“Let’s go!” Coach exclaims, astonished that nobody was moving a muscle. The team begins to make their way out to the pool, heads hanging low to avoid getting yelled at even more.

You continue standing there, stiff as stick, unsure whether to make conversation or not say anything at all. Coach begins to follow after the boys, looking back and gesturing at you to do the same.

The pool area is vast and its light blue color provides a nice contrast between the darker tiles. You look up to notice the glass ceiling was rounded and exposes the warm sky above, and for whatever reason, you can’t help but to think how nice it would be to be here at night.

The boys line themselves up within their lanes, in position to dive into the waters. Coach blows a whistle and the team push off their feet, powering into the pool. The man turns to you, holding up the whistle around his neck. “You’ll get one of these too.”

You turn back to the pool, watching each swimmer carefully. “So, how many laps are they doing?”

“Four with the front crawl,” he answers over the overwhelming sound of splashing in the echoey room. “Jimin and Jin are doing six. And Hoseok will do eight.”

You frown but the Coach walks away to follow Taehyung’s trail along the pool; considerably in last place compared to the other boys.

“Come on Taehyung!” He yells. “You can go faster than that!”

You hear the doors open behind you and when you look, you see it’s Hoseok, now in his swimming gear. He wears a swimming cap, unlike the rest of the members, and you think his hair looks the softest out of the five of them.

“Let me guess,” he makes his way to you and asks before you could speak. “Six?”

You smile. No unnecessary introduction. “Eight,” you correct and he groans.

“Eight is such an overkill,” Hoseok says, readjusting the cap around his head.

You’re about to make another comment but Hoseok is already walking away, jumping into the pool and beginning his laps. You swallow back your unspoken words awkwardly, looking back at the Coach to distract yourself, now scolding Seokjin for doing a backstroke.

Several minutes pass before he’s by your side again. “I made you a list the team’s routine by the way.” He produces a folded piece of paper from his pockets.

You read; 25m front crawl, 25m back crawl, 10m butterfly.

“Is that it?” You ask, looking up at him. “I mean, this is all I have tell them to do?”

“Essentially,” he answers back. “I’ll handle taking care of them and their abilities individually. For now, just order them around and hopefully they’ll listen.”

You nod, slumping your shoulders since you had imagined the position would be a lot like the one you had at high school that involved more than just barking orders.

Minutes pass and everybody but Hoseok had finished their laps, leisurely hanging on the edge and talking amongst each other. Jimin and Taehyung were closely huddled together, giggling at what the other one says. Seokjin continuously carding his fingers through his hair before joining Jungkook in cheering Hoseok on his last lap.

“Y/N,” Coach says and you turn to him. “Can I trust you to handle them for a while?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, sure.”

“Just give them the next thing on the list, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

Hoseok finishes his lap, now greeted with a round of applause from everybody else. He hangs on the wall, resting his head down on his arms and taking frantic breaths.

“Woo,” Jungkook claps, “go Hoseok.”

“How did you manage to get eight laps?” Seokjin quirks.

Hoseok is too out of breath to answer, rolling his eyes at him instead of responding.

“Coach hates Hoseok, don’t you know?” Taehyung answers for him.

“Hey, Assistant Coach?” Jungkook suddenly says. He’s smirking again. “Care to join us in the water?”

You cock an eyebrow. “No thanks.”

Mocking laughter arises. Jungkook narrows his gaze, splashing water at Seokjin who was laughing a little too loudly.

You smirk. “Kim Seokjin,” you address and he stops to look at you. “Did you shave your arm hair like I told you to?”

Another round of laughter erupts within the group. You feel yourself glowing, liking how Seokjin’s face turns red at your words.

Your eyes swim past their faces and land on Hoseok’s, and it’s so stark that you stop yourself on his gaze.

His eyebrows furrow in a subtle yet distinctive frown, and his stare is free from amusement, instead laced with a hint of darkness glinting in his eyes that seemed to harden as you maintained the eye contact.

Your stomach kicks as you pull away from the gaze. All the pride from embarrassing Seokjin had completely washed away in just mere seconds.

“I’ll get to it, Coach Y/N,” Seokjin replies, not noticing your change in tone and running his fingers through his hair again in attempts to redeem himself.

“Hairy Jin, hairy Jin, hairy Jin” Jimin begins to chant and Taehyung follows enthusiastically.

You gulp nervously. “Uh, let’s get started on—”

“You’re hairier than him!” Jungkook exclaims, pointing at Jimin. Jimin responds with a look of fake shock, which breaks both their characters as they laugh uncontrollably.

“Uh,” you try again over the noise. “Let’s do the—” you look at the paper, “back crawl.”

With a miracle, Jimin hears you. He peers at you with charm, cocking his head to the side and pouting. “But Coach,” he whines, “Hoseok just finished eight laps.”

“You just don’t want to swim, Jimin,” Seokjin accuses.

“Why do we have to swim when Coach isn’t here?” Taehyung asks and Jungkook nods.

“Yeah, let’s just hang out,” Jungkook adds. “Coach Y/N, come in the pool with us, why don’t you?”

You begin to panic, about to open your mouth to say anything to get them to listen to you. Before you can, your eyes catch Hoseok kicking off the wall with a back crawl across the length of the pool without a word.

You’re silent, and so is everybody else. Taehyung turns back to the front, kicking off and following after Hoseok. Then Seokjin, then Jungkook.

“This guy, really,” Jimin mutters before doing the same.

Your shoulders slump down to relax just before the doors open behind you. Lucky timing.

“Wow, they really listened?” Coach asked in disbelief. “You’re good at this.”

You turn your head to him as he pulls up next to you, chuckling nervously. “Yeah.”

Fuck. You were so tired.

You were fully aware you weren’t the one doing laps in the pool at five o’clock in the morning, but the experience was a little mentally exhausting on you. Or rather, Hoseok was a little mentally exhausting.

You had been sure beforehand that you would know how to handle boys like that; scoff, make a retort, do anything but give them the kind of attention they seek out in girls. But that Hoseok guy—he didn’t do even anything to provoke that from you. He just kinda…stared, and that had been enough to intimidate you.

The lecture hall was slowly piling up with more people spilling from the entrance. You took a short nap right before your 11 am classes began, but it wasn’t enough to wipe off the sleepiness off your face.

Among the crowd entering the room, your eyes suddenly catch Jimin’s face.

Ah, so this was the class you had with him.

If you were honest, you wouldn’t have paid Jimin that much attention if he hadn’t been on the team. He was cute, just like the rest of them, but you didn’t find yourself caring too much about cute boys most of the time.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he looks up, erupting into a smile. He jogs up the stairs, sliding down your aisle until he was sat right next to you.

“Miss Y/N,” he greets, placing his head down onto the desk and looking up at you. “I knew I saw you around campus somewhere.”

He scrunches his face, and you concrete that being cute was his ‘thing’. You break the eye contact with him to catch two girls watching the both of you with intent eyes, discreetly pointing towards your direction.

“Hey Jiminie!” One of them musters up the courage to say, waving frantically. Jimin shuts his eyes, taking a deep sigh before lifting up his head and giving her a toothy grin. She squirms in response, scurrying away from his stare with excited squealing.

“You ever get tired of that?” You ask him, judging by his look of exasperation.

“All the time,” he says, sighing as he turns back to you. You notice he’s acting less like a character now, resting his cheek on his hand. “You know, nobody else from the team takes this class, so I’m glad you’re in here with me. I can finally have a seatmate.” A pause. “I guess assistant coach counts as part of the team.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You only sit with the other swimmers?”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah. It’s a conduct of loyalty.”

The swim team stays within the swim team.

“You could make other friends, you know?” You say, flipping your textbook open as the last few people pour in.

Jimin laughs, like it’s a stupid comment. “Why would I? The best people I know are in one club.”

You scrunch your nose. “I’m not sure if that’s cute or just unhealthy.”

“You think I’m cute?” He raises both his eyebrows, leaning in closer.

You retract. “I’m not interested.”

“Neither am I,” he says, going back to his own space. “I just like flirting. Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“I’ve noticed,” you reply, lowering your volume as the professor comes in. “Your whole team seems to do it too.”

“Don’t take it personally,” he whispers. “You’re a nice looking girl, Y/N.”

You narrow your gaze on him, the edge of your mouth turning up at an angle. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jimin chuckles. A pause. “Don’t take Hoseok personally either.”

You turn your head towards him at the mention.

“He takes swimming a little too seriously. Really, he’s a lot of fun when he’s not in the pool and being a goody-two-shoes. It takes new people a while to learn that.”

You don’t say anything for a while. “He kinda saved my ass today.”

“Yeah,” Jimin rubs the back of his neck, “sorry about that. I’m a real slacker sometimes. It rubs off on the rest of them.” He stares down at the desk.

You can’t help but smile. “Doing 5 am laps three times a week doesn’t sound like a slacker to me,” you say and Jimin looks up. “Just please, don’t let me lose this job.”

Jimin nods before turning to the front of the lecture.

You liked this kid.

You met Yeri on the second day of university, which in retrospective, was pretty worrying considering she was your dorm roommate. You spent the first night at university alone in your room, greeted with rapid knocks on your door at morning come.

The first time you saw Yeri, she was still in last night’s party clothes, her makeup and hair looked like they were dragged through hell, and she was hungover. Even so, she managed a somewhat proper hello before throwing up into your desk trash can.

As you enter the room, she sits up, throwing her phone to the side. “So?”

Your eyes dart around the room.

“How was your first coaching session?”

“Oh,” you say. Right. She had been blowing up your phone since 9 am but you never had the time to reply. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” She intensively watches you place your backpack down by your table and take a seat on your bed. “Be more specific, come on.”

“Well,” you start, “I didn’t really do much, so it was pretty boring. I just told the team what strokes they had to do that day. And when they finished their laps, I would tell them the next stroke.”

“Seriously Y/N.” You laugh. “How were the boys?”

“Well, which one do you want me to start with?”

Her eyes light up. “That Kim Seokjin of yours.”

“Please.” You laugh. “He’s hardly mine. It seemed as if he talked about me to his team members before the lesson,” Yeri leans in closer. “I think he called me a bitch.” Her face falls. “I did kinda reject his attempt at flirting last time.”

“Is he into you?”

You scoff. “I doubt it. He probably wants me to go easy on his number of laps.”

“What about,” she taps her chin, “Kim Taehyung?”

“He seems okay,” you pout, scouting your memory for flashes of him. “Kind of a trouble maker with Jimin.”

“Ugh!” Yeri falls back onto the bed dramatically. You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Park Jimin, isn’t he the cutest?”

“He’s sweet,” you say and you instantly regret it when Yeri snaps her head at you. “Not what I meant,” you narrow her eyes at her. “Jungkook was by far the worst. I bet he would flirt with a lamp post if he had the chance,” you continue, lying on your back.

“I gotta agree with you on that one,” she says and you raise your eyebrows. “Still cute though.”

“God, I’m so tired,” you say, rubbing a hand over your forehead. You lean over your bed to grab your laptop from your bag. The blue screen greets you mockingly, reminding you of the paper you were supposed to start yesterday. “I have so much work and I haven’t even picked a topic for—”

“What about Jung Hoseok?” Yeri interreupts, her eyes perked up.

“Oh,” your voice falls. “Right.”

A long pause.

“What’s wrong?” She intrudes. “You interested in him?”

“No,” You object, lowering your laptop screen. “He’s just—I don’t know. He was different.”

“Oh?” Yeri smirks. “The good different?”

“The weird different,” you say. “I made a joke, and he was just kinda giving me —a death stare. Okay, not a death stare, but he didn’t really seem to like it.”

She rolls over so she’s on her stomach, rhythmically tapping her feet against the wall behind her. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” you trail off. “But he was the only person to listen to me when the swimming coach had left for a while. If it weren’t for him, I would have probably lost the job on my first day.”

“Inter-esting,” she says, drumming her fingers on her jaw. “I don’t know much about him, but I do know he’s really serious about the sport. Maybe that’s why you started off a bad note.”

You purse your lips, turning back to your screen. “Maybe.”

“Hey, Taehyung! No splashing!”

By your fourth or fifth lesson, Jungkook was still flirting with you, but it had become a little more endearing each time he did so, like a little brother’s friend who wanted to try a hand at seducing older girls.

“Coach Y/N!” He shouts from his position in the water, shielding himself from Taehyung’s continuous splashes of water despite you telling him to stop a few seconds ago. “When will I get to see you in a swimsuit?”

“Hopefully never,” you say as you smile, raising an eyebrow. He laughs before turning back to Taehyung and skimming the surface of the water to deliver a powerful and precise splash to his face.

Taehyung remains a troublemaker, but now targeting some of the trouble towards you, like splashing water at your shoes and trying to pull you into the pool if you got too close.

You still like teasing Seokjin, but not so upright like you had done your first lesson. He dropped trying to get on your good side when he saw you wouldn’t give him less laps for his behavior, opting to tease you back instead.

And just like Jimin promised, he always followed your orders so you could keep the job, even going as far as keeping the other boys on track for you. Everybody but Hoseok.

Hoseok was always on task anyways, following instruction no matter who was giving it, you or Coach. When he was out of the pool, he seemed like a regular college boy, laughing with his friends and discussing plans for the weekend. But once he was in, he tuned everybody out, like a robot, solely focused on getting in his meters for the day. Frankly, you’ve never meet anybody so serious about swimming practices in all your years.

“Alright,” Coach says after a while. “Out.”

The team simultaneously pull themselves up and out of the pool. You allow the time to stretch your body. The job was boring but easy, and you seemed to be getting more and more used to waking up this early. Not to mention, you were actually making friends with people you’d otherwise never want to talk to.

“Before you go,” Coach says, stopping everybody from going into the changing rooms, “I have some news.”

“News?” Jimin chirps, smiling wide and bouncing a little. “Good news?”

“You decide,” he answers and Jimin frowns. “Mr. Wu, or you might know him better as the basketball coach, had gotten a serious flu this past month, so I’ve been invited to go to the basketball nations in his place.”

“You don’t know anything about basketball though, Coach,” Taehyung says, leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Don’t disrespect your elders like that,” Seokjin scolds. You hold back a laugh.

A pause. “Anyways,” Coach continues, “I’ll be gone for a week. But don’t start crying yet. I have a perfectly good and groomed assistant coach to take over my role.”

Everybody’s eyes fall on you.

“She’s been over our practice routine about a hundred times now, haven’t you?” The Coach looks at you and you realise it’s not a rhetorical question.

“Sure,” you say, not knowing how to respond. You don’t mean for it to be funny but Jungkook breaks out into little giggles.

You turn to him smiling, but you’re stopped when you meet Hoseok’s hard gaze instead. Again.

“I mean,” you say, taking your eyes off of him, “I know what to do. Don’t worry, Coach.” You feel Hoseok’s eyes leave your figure at your words and your body relaxes.

“Right,” Coach says a little hesitantly, noticing your tone change. “Okay, go get changed. Nice work, everybody.”

You watch as the boys begin to leave the vicinity of the pool, going back to their resumed conversations. Hoseok lingers and you notice, so you turn away to face the pool and pretend to fix something on your shirt.

“Hey, Coach?” You hear him say. “Will the pool still be open every day?”

Your eyes focus on a ripple in the gradually calming ways, intently listening his words.

“Not sure. Probably, but you better ask Y/N to check in at the sports department.”

You freeze, deciding it would be weird not to tune into the conversation now. Hoseok’s scrutinizing gaze falls on you again and you tense up.

“You said probably, right?” Hoseok asks again and the pit of your stomach clenches.

“Probably,” Coach repeats. “Don’t see a reason they would close while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” Hoseok says, turning his heel away and back into the changing rooms. “Thanks Coach. Have a safe trip.”

Ouch. Does he really not like you this much?

You ignore it, fiddling with the gym door keys in your left pocket.

“You heard me, right Y/N?” Coach asks and you look up in surprise. “Can you check in and let him know, just in case?”

“Uh,” you scramble for a response, “yeah! Of course.”

Coach nods once. “Hoseok’s pretty dedicated, you probably could already tell that.” You don’t say anything. “He likes swimming early in the morning even when we don’t have practice, but only because I vouched for those free periods to the sports director.”

You nod.

“He might seem a little distant to you,” he continues, “but he’s got a heart of gold. And lots of determination. Don’t let him lose those extra swimming practices.”

“Got it,” you say.

If you had to be honest, you wanted Hoseok to like you. You don’t know why, since you’ve never so actively cared about what some boy thought of you, but you were sure it was because you were a little scared of him. It was hard not to be, with his dark eyes and furrowed eyebrows and cold stares.

One thing you knew for sure, losing those swimming periods on your part would definitely not help the situation.

Another text message goes off.

yeri: ‘Y/N~~~~~~~’

you: ‘Yeri, I’ll be 5 minutes’

yeri: ‘we’re about to order without u though’

you: ‘It’s fine just get me what you’re getting.’

yeri: ‘hurry~~ it’s not as fun without u’

you: ‘Yeri’

yeri: ‘:(‘

you: ‘5 minutes’

You place your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the next buzz that comes in. You told Yeri the night before you wanted to clear out a chore before you join her and her friends for a lunch, and she didn’t take the news too kindly.

The sports department was considerably far away from the actual sport areas. It was in the main building, which was most likely pretty empty during lunch hours, opting the job to be quick and easy.

You swing the door open to the main building but Hoseok stands in the doorway, reaching out for the door handle just as you had moved it.

“Oh, god,” you say, placing a hand over your chest. “You scared me—”

“Sorry,” he interrupts, pushing past you. You watch him as he begins to make his way to the cafeteria, and suddenly something clicks into place.

“Wait!” You shout, striding towards him and stopping hesitantly a few feet away when he turns around. “Uh, what were you doing?”

He squints his eyes in confusion, looking much less intimidating and more lost than anything. “Huh?”

“Were you at the sports department just now?” You rephrase.

“Does it matter?” Hoseok asks.

“Well, yes,” you say, chewing on your lip in slow frustration, “I was just about to go in there and check those free periods—”

“I’m flattered, but I could do it myself.” Hoseok crooks an eyebrow. “In fact, I already did.”

You narrow your eyes. You had been looking at this guy wrong this whole time. He wasn’t scary, or intimidating. He was fucking annoying.

“Listen,” you grit your teeth, stopping him in his tracks as he begins walking away again. “I’m really not sure what I did to you, but I’m trying to fix it right now and you’re not helping.”

He frowns, contemplating over your words. “I’m really not understanding. Fix what?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaim, “you tell me!”            

Hoseok frowns. “Women are so confusing.”

You’re breathless, holding vicious words hostage on your tongue. “Just—tell me why you hate me so much. Then we can move on.”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you.” He pauses. “You’re just not very—serious about anything.”

Your face twists. “Serious? How am I not serious? I’m trying my best—”

“Okay, listen,” he stops you. “I’m sorry if you feel that way, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. Sorry.”

Never before has anybody stolen the breath out of your lungs so abruptly. You can’t help but gape your mouth like a fish out of water. Your eyes are fixated on his face, which begins to grow awkward as silent seconds tick by.

“…What?” You hiss.

His face softens. “Sorry, I’m not interested in—”

“What makes you think I’m interested in you?” You burst.

He’s taken aback, and it shows in his expression. But just as soon as it comes, it leaves, replaced with a slight furrow in his eyebrows. “That’s not a very mature way to deal with rejection—”

“Rejection?” You throw your hands up, aghast at how delusional one person can be. “I don’t want to date you!”

“Well, you’re in luck then, right?” He says with feigned innocence.

“You—”

Before you can finish your sentence, your phone starts ringing. The air becomes tense, filled with your ringtone instead of words. Hoseok stares at you, then your pocket, then back to you.

“You should answer your phone,” he says, practically rooting his feet into the ground with the way he stands so still.

Your mouth gapes open, reaching for your phone with caution, watching him vigorously.

“…Yes?” You ask as you answer the call, never leaving his gaze.

“Y/N, you done yet?” Yeri’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Yeah,” you say, frowning at Hoseok and hardening your words. “I’m done. Be there in a few.” He continues standing there, staring right back, his face unmoving.

“Okay, hurry up so we can start eat—”

You hang up before she could finish her sentence. “I need to go.”

“Be my guest,” he replies with a smirk.

“I will.” You push past him, making your way as far away as possible from him.

Pft. Interested in him? Had you ever shown any signs you were interested? None at all. God, he was so delusional. So self-absorbed. So far up his own ass.

It’s hard to think about anything else as you bite into your cheese sandwich, the conversation on the table drifting in and out of your consciousness. Not only did he waste your time, but he ruined your lunch too.

Jimin slides in the seat next to you, right before the lecture. “You okay?”

You turn in surprise. “Yeah, why?”

“Hoseok said you were upset yesterday.”

The grip around your pen hardens. “Did he? What else did he say?”

Jimin’s round eyes widen. “He wouldn’t say anything else. Well, besides not to get on your bad side, because it’s not a ‘pretty side’ to be on.”

You take a deep breath. “This guy—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts as the lecture begins. “I told you not to take him seriously. Whatever he did, it’s probably not personal.”

The two of you grow silent.

“I’ll tell you what he did,” you whisper. “He turned me down, as if I was in love with him, or something.”

Jimin looks at you through half lidded eyes. “I’m sorry. That must suck—”

“I’m not in love with him!” You hiss. “Does everybody think that?”

Jimin pauses. “You do treat him differently.”

“That doesn’t mean—” You stop yourself. There wasn’t any point trying to convince anybody of something that was so blatant to you. “Never mind.”

“Whatever is going on,” Jimin begins to say, “you should sort it out. Before Coach comes back from his trip. You really don’t want to get on his bad side. Trust me, I’ve been on that side far too many times for my preferences.”

You turn to him and smile timidly. “I’ll try.”

“So, newly improved and cuter Coach,” Jungkook starts, running his fingers through his wet hair, “what mission do you want us subordinates to complete on your first day as leader?”

“Ew,” Taehyung says, “keep your kinks to yourself.”

Seokjin makes a face. “Why do you have to make everything sexual?”

Your eyes scan over the awaiting faces, but you purposefully miss Hoseok’s. His head was resting against the pool edge, his swimming cap pulled over his head that he cocked to the side with faked interest. Without even looking, you can feel his eyes dig into you, as if trying to find a way to crawl under your skin.

“Laps,” you answer before the resounding groaning begins.

“Y/N,” Jimin thrashes his body around dramatically, “you’re so boring.”

“Can’t we play a game?” Taehyung chimes in. You pick up the whistle from around your neck and fiddle with it, a wordless response of a ‘no’.

“Four laps, back crawl,” you announce. “Ready?”

“Coach,” Hoseok interrupts and everybody’s head spins towards him, leaving their position to start swimming, “I have a question.”

You don’t say anything, feeling your head get light at the situation. Instead, you continue standing there, tucking your lower lip into your teeth and stomping your foot erratically.

The edges of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “Why back crawl first?”

“Because,” you say through the grit of your teeth, “I said so.”

“But the front crawl usually comes first,” he continues with amusement etched into his face. God, did you want to knock it out of him. “Front crawl, then back crawl.”

“Good point, Mr. Jung,” Taehyung joins in on the game, further fueling the pent up anger boiling in your insides. “It makes sense to start with front, and then back.”

“Can we just start swimming?” Jimin asks with exasperation, readying to push off the wall again. Taehyung follows, dropping the act almost immediately. But Hoseok goes on.

“You know, Coach,” he cheeses, “if you mess up the order of our laps, it could really mess with our routine, and then it’d be your fault if we lose at nationals—”

You blow the whistle, looking straight ahead at the end point of the pool rather at any of them. From your peripheral vision, you watch them scramble to kick off the wall, caught off guard and starting their laps off beat with the time you blew your whistle.

Then your eyes land on him. Stationary. Grinning.

You blow it again.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Hoseok says, holding his arms out across the pool edge as if to beckon you closer to him. You stand guard.

Another blow. The other boys pause their back crawl to observe the situation.

“Back crawl,” you grit, building up your voice to sound louder than usual.

“I’ll only start my lap if you come closer.” His finger crooks towards you, smiling.

Keep calm, keep calm. Don’t do anything irrational.

You wistfully close your eyes for a second, breathing in a deep sigh before making your way closer towards him, stopping a few feet away.

“Oh come on,” Hoseok says and you feel your fists clench. “That’s not close enough.”

“I’m not playing this game,” you mutter. “If you don’t want to swim, don’t.”

“That’s no fun!” He exclaims. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

You bite your lip, locking in all the cruel words you wanted to spill on your tongue.

“Is that whistle the only thing you blow?”

You blow your whistle. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Everybody’s heads look up, pausing in the midst of their laps, before beginning to swim back the pool edge.

“What happened?” Jimin asks as he nears.

“Everybody get out,” you command. “Except but you,” your eyes narrow in on him.

With hesitation and confusion, they follow your words, climbing out of the waters and forming a line at your side. Your eyes fall back down to Hoseok. Still smirking.

“Front crawl, sixteen laps.”                                              

“…What?” His mouth gapes open, like a fish out of water.

“Front crawl, sixteen laps,” you say again.

“Are you crazy—”

“You don’t follow my instructions, you get reported,” you say, holding exceptionally tight onto the whistle cord. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Hoseok’s face grows darker once he realizes there was no way out of this. And now the smirk on his face that loves to taunt you with drops, his eyes no longer dance with the prideful mischief he brings onto you.

You blow the whistle. He sends you one last look before kicking off the wall and starting the first lap. You look attentively, watching him slowly make his way to the other side of the pool to maintain his energy. As he kicks against the wall, your eyes meet his briefly. This time, your eyes darken.

“Uh,” Jimin’s voice mumbles behind you, as if he was tiptoeing a dangerous line, “Coach?”

You turn away from Hoseok, meeting their horror drenched faces.

“Don’t you think—” Jimin pauses as your eyes harden, “sixteen is a bit—too much?”

Your eyebrows raise. “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Um, what are we supposed to do?” Taehyung asks carefully.

“Watch,” you respond, a preview of a growing smile on your features before you turn back.

Hoseok is on his third lap, still managing to preserve his energy, but you know it won’t last long. No, you’re glad it won’t last long. You want him exhausted, in pain, his expression begging for you to let him stop.

“She has too much power now,” you hear Jungkook whisper.

“She’ll be a tyrant in no time,” Taehyung whispers back.

“She might be worse than Coach,” Jimin adds, “and that’s saying something.”

“Just be glad you’re not him,” Seokjin mumbles.

Hoseok stops on his eighth lap, hanging on the pool edge and chasing desperately for breath in his lungs.

“No slacking,” you hiss.

“Just give him some time to breathe, Coach,” Jungkook interludes.

You ignore him, blowing the whistle. Hoseok struggles to move, panting.

“I said—no—slacking.” You’re about to blow the whistle again when you feel a hand wrap around your wrist.

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, dropping his grip around you, “let’s stop now.”

You take quick short breathes, completely unaware of how winded you had been feeling. The furious heat that had settled in your stomach was losing its warmth, quickly replaced with cold ice as the situation sinks in.

“Okay.” You try to say with the last bit of authority you could muster but you fail.

With that, Hoseok sighs with relief before attempting to pull himself out. Seokjin rushes to his side to help him.

“Well that was interesting,” Taehyung mutters under his breath. “Is that all for today, Coach?” He asks a bit louder.

You wipe your forehead, clenching your teeth uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Great,” Taehyung responds, throwing an arm over Jimin. “I barely finished one lap today,” he mumbles to him.

“Same here,” Jimin replies as the two walk towards the changing rooms.

Jungkook gives his water bottle to Hoseok, whom was leaning against Seokjin. Hoseok takes it, downing it and fervently trying to regain a stable breathing pattern.

“Well, uh,” Seokjin starts, “see you next practice, Coach.” He slings an arm over Hoseok, helping him walk back. Jungkook follows, offering water to him again eagerly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, embarrassment quickly washing over you over as you recount how you had acted.

“Dude,” you hear Seokjin hiss, “what did you even do?”

“Nothing—to des—erve—sixteen—laps,” Hoseok pants back, throwing a look over his shoulder and meeting yours eyes. “Maybe—just twelve.” A smirk.

You walk to today’s practice with a different mindset. You wanted to make it up to everybody, with the exception of maybe one person.

Who you were last week was definitely not you. Anger had clouded your reasoning and it took a toll on all the other boys. Maybe Hoseok deserved it, maybe not. But you no longer wanted whatever he throws at you to get the best of you.

When the team exits the changing rooms and pours into the corridor, their heads hang low to avoid the possible wrath residing within from you. You notice Hoseok’s absence, which you were glad for because it allowed you to talk freely.

“Hey guys,” you say sheepishly.

“Good morning, beautiful Coach!” Seokjin chirps. “I hope you’re doing well on this fine day, but not as fine as you!”

You cock your head to the side. “I’m not giving anybody sixteen laps, don’t worry.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slouch. “She’s giving us twenty.”

“No,” you say quickly. “Look, I’m really sorry about last practice. I was just very—emotional, and I wasted a swimming lesson on you guys.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Taehyung mutters.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jimin says and you smile, “we forgive your tyranny.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook pipes up.

“Just please don’t make us do laps again,” Taehyung pleads. “It’s so boring.”

“I won’t make you do laps,” you reply and everybody lights up. “We’re gonna play water volleyball.”

The boys begin to cheer, slapping each other on the back.

“This is great,” Seokjin says, “I have experience in volleyball.”

“And it’ll be even more embarrassing when you lose,” Jimin says, reaching his arm to sling over Seokjin’s shoulders.

“Where’s Hoseok?” Jungkook asks, looking around.

“It’s fine,” you say, “we’ll have even teams.”

“But he never misses a practice.” Jungkook grows a little more unnerving, his eyes darting around the corridor.

Your eyes catch Jimin’s, sending you an expression of concern. You shake your head at him, ever so discreetly so only he could see it. Not now.

Jimin looks away, turning to Jungkook and placing his hand on his forearm to soothe his nerves. “Jungkook, be on my team.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, watching the scene. “I wanted Jungkook.”

“Well experienced and volleyball prodigy, unwanted by anybody,” Seokjin mumbles to himself.

“Maybe you should be doing volleyball instead of swimming,” you tease and Seokjin rolls his eyes.

The doors open behind you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is as Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief.

“Hoseok!” He exclaims with glee.

“Sorry,” Hoseok says. “I slept in.”

“We’re playing water volleyball,” Taehyung says with dripping excitement.

You turn your head slightly. “Go change. I’ll get the equipment.”

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Jimin asks, most likely opting an opportunity to talk to you alone and lecture you again about ‘sorting it out’.

“I’ll do it,” Hoseok interrupts, dropping his bag on the floor.

Ugh. You groan. “I’m fine—”

“Don’t be so prideful,” Hoseok says. “Come on.”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to draw any more attention to the two of you. You begin walking out back into the gym, making sure to always be one step ahead of Hoseok so you would not walk side by side with him.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, jogging to catch up. You walk faster. “Why are you acting so childish?”

You laugh. “Why do you want to get equipment? Are you planning to make out with me or something?”

It’s his turn to laugh. “I just wanted to make sure there were no personal feelings—”

“There are none,” you interrupt, unlocking the door to the gym equipment room. “There are no feelings,” you push your body against it with excessive force, “at all actually.”

Hoseok continues standing in front of the opened door. “I really don’t get why you’re so angry. If you were never interested in me, then you don’t have to keep acting like this.” He pauses, resting a hand against the nape of his neck. “And about last practice, I was just messing around. I didn’t mean to do any real damage.”

You pause, a volleyball in your hands, remembering the promise you had made yourself. Don’t let it get the best of you. You’re not this childish, and you won’t lower yourself for some guy.

You turn back to face him. “You’re right, I’m sorry—”

Hoseok moves quick, forcing you to back up right against the wall. He slams a fist by your head, making you let out a noise of surprise and drop the ball from your hands.

Silence. Nothing but your harsh breathing.

“…What are you doing?” You finally muster up.

He pushes his hand off the wall, smirking. “I just wanted to test something.”

Hoseok walks past you, picking up the net nonchalantly. You can’t find it in you to move, and you hate it. All you could do was stand there, wide eyed with a racing heart, like an idiot.

“Let’s get going, Coach,” Hoseok says, passing through the door and looking at you over his shoulder. “We have a game.”

Then he leaves, letting you bask in the silence. You raise a hand to rest on your cheek, feeling the immense heat giving off.

Shit.

You blow the whistle and the ball is thrown. Jungkook is cheering enthusiastically, opting out of the first game for Hoseok’s sake. He sits on the pool edge, between the net, his calves dipping into the water. You walk up behind him and ruffle his hair.

“Y/N,” he turns to you and you remove your hand, peering down at him curiously, “you need to seriously swim with us one day.”

You smile. “Maybe. I don’t swim.”

“You can’t?” He asks.

“I’m not very good, like you guys,” you correct. The ball goes out of the court and you go to retrieve it.

“Our ball!” Taehyung yells.

“He’s lying!” Jimin yells back. You really should have been paying attention.

“Shut up!” Seokjin exclaims. “Y/N, it’s ours! I swear.”

You giggle. “I don’t know who to trust,” you say, tapping your chin. “Seokjin seems tempting—”

“It’s ours,” Hoseok states. Your eyes flick to his, all traces of amusement dissipating from your features. You throw it at him, looking away before it even gets to him and blowing the whistle again.

You watch the match intently. Hoseok throws the ball over the net, and Seokjin gets ahold of it, passing it to Taehyung, who attempts a slam dunk on the other net, but Jimin saves before it could touch the water.

“Jiminie!” Jungkook yells. “Nice!”

“Thanks!” Jimin shouts in the midst of the chaos, passing the ball to Hoseok. Hoseok bounces the ball once on his clenched fist before jumping up and delivering a clean cut spike.

“Yeah Hoseok!” Jimin cheers.

“Oh come on!” Taehyung exclaims. “Coach! He bounced!”

“The rule is one bounce, Taehyung!” Jimin argues. He spins over to you. “Right, Coach?”

You flick your eyes to Hoseok. He’s staring at you, completely blank. Then the edge of his lip tugs upwards into one loathing smirk.

“No point!” You announce in spite.

“What?” Jimin shouts. “You said one bounce!”

“I don’t recall such a thing,” you say. “Ball to Team—uh—”

“Team Handsome!” Seokjin tells you, swimming over to give Taehyung a high five.

“Oh come on!” Jimin exclaims, thrashing his body around in the water.

Jungkook turns around to look at you. “You said one bounce.”

“I don’t remember,” you lie again.

“Did you forget because it was on Hoseok?” He says, a little more quietly now.

Your mouth forms a straight line. “No.”

“You guys would be good together, you know, if you didn’t hate him,” Jungkook comments, looking away back to the pool and you continue staring at the back of his head in shock. “My turn!”

“Take my place, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, swimming over to the edge. “I’m too tired.”

Jungkook contemplates the offer, shrugging his shoulders before swinging his feet over the other side of the net and jumping in.

“Hey!” Jimin shouts. “You can’t take our teammate! Jungkook come back—”

“I just did,” Taehyung retorts. “Help me up Coach.”

“You really need to improve your stamina, Taehyung,” you say as you take his outstretched hand.

Then you’re being pulled in.

The cold water is like whiplash to your unsuspecting body. Your mind is in a whirlwind, unable to do anything but thrash around helplessly. You pull up for air, frantically taking oxygen into your lungs but you keep your eyes screwed shut.

Hands grab at your waist, pulling you up and against the wall. Your eyes fly open.

Hoseok’s face is only inches away from yours. You feel his quick breathing against your lips and his piercing gaze digging into yours. From the corner of your eyes, you can see water droplets drip down from his hair strands and onto his forehead. His hands are still on your waist, gripping tight and slowly slithering to ride your shirt up, feeling the bare expanse of your hips on his fingertips.

Hoseok had you caged, again. He seems to realise too, breaking out into another smirk.

“Get off!” You snap back to your senses, pushing him off with all the force in your body. “I can fucking swim, you ass!”

You pull yourself up and out of the pool, everything done with harsh, rage fueled movements. Everybody’s looking at you in silence. They had been, for the past ten seconds since you were pulled in. But it didn’t feel like ten seconds; it felt like time had completely slowed.

You meet Hoseok’s wide eyes again, like you always seem to do. You feel red fury scratch at your insides and the walls of your throat. This fucking guy—

“Y/N,” Taehyung begins to say. He pulled himself out the pool too, reaching out again. “I’m sorry—”

“You know what?” You snap. “Finish the game yourself. You know where the equipment room is.”

You begin walking away, ringing your hair from the water and fixing your clothing.

You were absolutely freezing, and the autumn season weather wasn’t helping. A cold shiver runs through your body as you enter the gym, holding your arms close together and walking gingerly.

Even so, all you could think about was Hoseok.

Motherfucker.

“Y/N!” Yeri sits up from her bed. “What happened? Why are you soaking?” She gets up, placing a hand over your shoulders and looking behind at the trail of wet footsteps you left in your wake.

“Jung Hoseok,” you grumble.

“What? He pushed you into the pool?” She asks, searching her bag of toiletries for a towel and draping it over your figure.

“He might as well have.”

“Huh?” Yeri twists her face in confusion. “Let’s get you a new change of clothes.”

You sit down, droplets running down your face and your clothes sticking to your skin like glue. God, and why could you not stop thinking about how his hands had gripped your sides as if he was the only thing that could stop you from drowning? Or how dark his eyes got, and not in the way they ever did before, but so much deeper and sharper, like it could hold oceans within them.

“You’re gonna get a fever.” Yeri says, putting her hand on your forehead. “Your face is so warm.”

She hands you a tee and pair of shorts. “Thanks,” you mumble.

You wake up at 5 am, and in hindsight, you should have just gone right back to bed.

Your damp hair and bedsheets had dried from yesterday but your head was still dizzy. It hadn’t stopped violently pounding since—well—yesterday.

You didn’t even want to think about it because every time your mind wandered to those few seconds against the pool wall and caged by his arms, you could feel your face burn up with a furious heat. Even now, as you sit in your bed at the crack of dawn pouring into your windows, your cheeks feel hot.

And now that you’ve started thinking about it, you can’t stop. You fall back on your bed, rubbing harsh circles on your face, hoping it could calm the arising nerves and when it doesn’t, you throw the sheets off your body and slip on a pair of shoes, because after all, you did leave your keys back in the pool.

The keys were still in the lock when you arrive through the pool corridors, to your relief. You let out a content sigh at the sight but it’s short lived when you see the door wasn’t locked as you had hoped it was.

Your fingers reach out to turn the key, but right as you do, you hear the noise of splashing beyond the door. Your stomach twists uncomfortably, suddenly acute of the idea that somebody was using the pool without permission and if anybody found out, you would get fired. Your fingers move up from the key to instead turn at the handle and peak into the room.

Your eyes first land on the figure in the water. They were doing a laps to the other end of the pool, and you’re glad because they couldn’t see you.

You stick your head out a little further to watch the figure and it sinks in ever so slowly that this is Hoseok. You didn’t need to recognize his swimming cap going up and under the water to tell it was him, or by the sight of his towel hanging up on the wall.

It was the way he moved.

Everybody on the team was a good swimmer, but it was hard to compare them with Hoseok’s ability, and no matter how much he had scared or aggravated you, it was impossible not to take your eyes off of him when he swam.

He swam like a dolphin, swift and clean, cutting through the ripples like he was moving through air and not water with arms that powered against the surface of the water and legs that pushed off with carefully crafted agility. It was mesmerizing, and you couldn’t fathom investing so much time and effort into anything in your life as much as Hoseok did to swimming.

Maybe you first noticed it when you made him do those laps, or maybe it was now, 5 in the morning and in your pajamas, your head sticking out of the door and your heart pounding in your chest. You want to move, leave and take the keys before he notices you, but your eyes stayed glued on Hoseok and the way he reaches the edge of the pool and kicks off against the wall to finish another lap.

You watch him, almost absent-mindly as you relive the feeling of his body closely against yours, his breath hitting the surface of your lips, the smirk he engrained on his face right before you pushed him off.

You pull yourself further away from the open seam of the door as he reaches the pool edge again, but you can hear him take deep takes of air to recollect his breathing. You listen intently, trying to find an opportunity to slip away when he starts another lap. But it never comes.

“Y/N,” his voice sounds out and your heart stops. “I know you’re there.”

Your fingers shake around the door handle but you swing it open to reveal yourself nonetheless. You can feel your blood rush and palpate in your veins but you swallow it back with foolish pride.

“I just needed to get my keys, from—the other day,” you reply and the croak in your voice is undeniable. You hated being like this in front of him, like a lost puppy, but it was hard not to when he keeps catching you off guard like this.

“I took it with me after last lesson so nobody could take them,” he says, his chin resting on his arms. “Figured I would have just brought them with me again today instead of my own in case you were looking for them.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, chewing on the side of your cheek. Only the sound of gentle ripples against the pool wall fill the room. You hesitate to step past the doorway, choosing to stay at bay and at a safe distance. “Well,” you start, your stomach twisting at how uncomfortable the situation was, “can you, you know—get out of the pool so I can lock up?”

“You sure you don’t want to swim with me?” He smiles.

You hold back a groan. “Okay, then lock up yourself and give me the key when you can—”

“Wait, wait Y/N,” Hoseok says as you begin to turn away. He pulls himself out of the water so he sits on the edge, dipping his feet in. You stop in your tracks, your eyes fixed on the ground by him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Is there any other way to interpret that?” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs in response.

“Can we talk?” He asks carefully. “Just for a minute?”

“Shoot.” You say, shifting your weight to the other leg.

He looks at you perplexed, almost a bit exasperated. “Come in first. I promise I won’t pull you into the water like Taehyung.”

You sigh softly, giving into his antics by letting the door close behind you and inching towards the pool. “Yeah, you’ll probably trap me against another wall,” you mumble but even your own words create unease for you.

Hoseok smiles, his mouth lopsided. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.” He leans back, his palms resting on the tiled floor. He pauses before speaking again. “You seemed pretty angry yesterday.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Did I? What gave it away?”

He grins. “You’re feisty today.”

You clench your fists. “Is that all you wanted to say to me, or can I go?”

He breaks eye contact with you, turning to face the pool again. “No,” he sighs. “Sorry, I just get—carried away when it comes to you.”

You bit down on your lip, unsure of what he meant by that and hoping he wasn’t entailing what you thought he was. You stare at the back of his head, now titled to the side and looking downwards in front of him. You wish you wanted to leave now, but you didn’t. God, did you wish you did though.

You walk closer, slipping off your shoes and taking a seat on the edge of the pool like him, a few feet away. He’s surprised, turning to look at you with an expression of shock. You ignore it, instead focusing on swinging your legs up and down in the water.

“If—” he pauses again, “if you’re really mad, then I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows raise, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip hard.  His words struck something in you; what were you mad about exactly? Was it really because he caged you in, and in front of everybody too? Or—was it because—he made you—feel something you just didn’t want to feel?

“I’m not mad,” you answer, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Really?” He asks and you nod slowly. “That’s good to hear.” You hold back a smile. “Does that mean you’re giving me permission to cage you in again?”

You snap your head towards him, a frown framing your face.

He chuckles, throwing his swimming cap off and to the side. “If it means anything, I swam across the length of the pool to save you, so I kinda saved your life when you think about it.”

“For the last time,” you grumble, “I can swim.”

“It didn’t look like it.”

“I was shocked, that’s all.” You look away. “You would be too if somebody just pulled you into the pool.”

“I think I’d remember how to swim no matter how I got in,” he says with a smile as you scoff again. He reaches out, punching your shoulder lightly. “Don’t you think you need to know how to swim if you’re going to be an assistant swimming coach?”

“I—” you stop yourself. “I’m perfectly eligible for this job.”

“How so?”

“I was a swimming coach for three years back in high school,” you respond.

His eyes widen. “Oh?” You nod. “I didn’t know that.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “Well, now you can stop doubting me.”

“I’ve never doubted you in the first place,” he says, softly now. You don’t meet his eyes and there’s a long pause. “How long were you watching me before I noticed you?”

“Like ten seconds,” you mumble, lying to him and yourself.

“I know that’s not true,” Hoseok grins, “I heard the door open 2 minutes before I said anything.” His grin grows as he watches you get flustered.

“Well, I—” You rack your brain for something to say but it seems like nothing could get you out of this one.

“Did you like watching me?” He asks, smirking.

You hesitate. “Yeah, I did.”

He perks up. “What?”

You break out into a smile against your will. “Do you really have to be surprised because I think you’re good at swimming?”

“So you’re being serious?” Hoseok is cheesing now, inching closer to you. “You’re giving me a compliment?”

You laugh. “I don’t have to like you to compliment you.”

His face falls at your comment and you immediately regret saying it at all. He redeems himself, chuckling awkwardly to cut the tension. “I guess you don’t.”

You watch him through lidded eyes, unable to comprehend how pushing him away now feels so wrong. Maybe because you really didn’t mean that. “I actually think it’s pretty cool that you do these practices every morning,” you say slowly.

He meets your gaze, searching your face for a hint of amusement. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like much nowadays,” he admits, turning away to look straight ahead. “It’s just, kinda part of my everyday routine.”

“Well, this ‘routine’ pays off, you know” you say, incapable of stopping the words flowing out of your mouth now. “I’ve never liked anything in my life so much to dedicate every day to it.”

“Nothing?” He frowns, looking at you.

“Nothing,” you repeat. “Time kind of just—flies by for me.”

“That sucks,” he replies and you can’t help but agree. “I think life should be more like—colorful moments, not black and white and fast like that.”

You smile down at your lap. “It’s been a little more colorful since I joined.” You feel his eyes on you but you can’t bring yourself to look back.

A pause. “From my perspective,” he hitches a leg up and out of the water to rest his elbow on, “everybody deserves something to be passionate about. It’s not great all the time, I mean, it’s really pressuring and you compare yourself to others a lot but—it makes life exciting, worth living for.”

You look up then when he turns his eyes away from you, unable to stop the smile growing on your face.

He turns back to you and you hitch your breath as you look into his eyes. “I think to fix your problem,” he smiles, “you just need to find something you’re passionate about.”

You sniff a laugh. “I can’t just—be passionate about something all of a sudden.”

“Of course you can,” he grins. “Think of it like—falling in love.”

You snap your eyes away. “I don’t—” you trail off but you’re sure it’s enough to give your message across to him. He notices you shrink, pulling further away from him in your insecurities and consequently building that barrier back up between you and him again.

You didn’t know how to fall in love, and you’ve started to think it’s because you didn’t deserve to. You act better than the guys who hit on you and your friends head over heels in love, but really, you’re jealous. Jealous everybody chased for romance, chased for companionship, because everybody seemed to have a chance at love but you.

There were no plans for you in this life; that you weren’t meant to live out your life in colorful moments, but a black and white film.

“That’s okay,” Hoseok says and you look up in shock. “There’s a first time for everything, right?”

The edge of his mouth turns up to form a crooked smile, and never has anything so simple and mundane made your heart race so quickly. When you look at him now, it’s in a different light. He’s not intimidating, or infuriating, or even physically attractive. He was just—beautiful.

He turns back in front of him, pulling his other leg out of the pool and standing up. “We should go now. Maintenance comes around this time.”

You nod, your mouth still gaping and your heart hammering in your chest. He offers a hand to help you up and you take it with shaky hands. It’s a bad idea because you stand up only inches away from his face, his chest almost pressed against yours and hand clutching your own. He seems to notice, taking a step back and letting go of his grasp around you.

“Well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I need to take a shower before I go.”

You nod. “Right. I’ll take the key with me—if you don’t mind.”

“Take it. It’s yours, after all.”

You chew your lip to suppress the smile. He jogs to retrieve his swimming cap and towel and you wait patiently by the door. He sends you a smile as you both enter through the corridors again.

“You know, Y/N, you could always join me,” he says, returning to his old persona and making you roll your eyes.

After he disappears into the locker rooms, you stand still for just a moment, taking in the way your stomach tightens and your heart flutters, even when he’s no longer around you.

If you could have a chance at love, you would want to take it on Hoseok.

You take a deep breath before pulling open the doors to the swimming pool. He sits on the pool edge, breathing hard and slick with water.

“Y/N,” he turns in surprise and his mouth forms a smile. “You forgot yours keys again?”

You huff a laugh. “No, uh, are you busy?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “I just finished a few laps. What’s up?”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I just, uh—um—”

Silence. “Go on,” he frowns in amusement, the edges of his mouth tipping upwards.

Why do you have to be so nervous? Just keep it together. There’s nothing to freak out about. Keep cool, keep cool, keep cool—

“You okay?” He’s full on smiling now, standing up to walk closer. You tense up, looking down at the floor instead of him, only judging the closing-in distance between you two by the sounds of his wet feet padding across the tiles.

“I, uhm,” is all you can say. He leans down so your eyes meet his. It catches you off guard, but most of all, it sets off all the butterflies in your stomach again after you thought you had calmed them down.

“What did you need from me?” Hoseok asks. He was so close now that you could smell the chlorine on his body, you could see the droplets running down his skin and how they catch the blue swimming pool lights. You walk backwards in response, your nerves on hot red fire and you wanting nothing more to undo the whole situation. But all at once, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than here with him.

“You, uh, you left your—” you continue walking back and he continues following, “soap.”

“My soap?” He chuckles.

“Your soap,” you repeat. Your back hits the surface of the door and you hiss in pain.

He soundlessly chuckles, placing a hand against the door by your head and virtually trapping you in. “We always end up like this, huh?”

“What are you doing?” You whisper.

“What do you want me to do?” He mumbles.

“I don’t know,” you respond, your head so light you can’t think straight.

“What were you going to ask me?” He asks but you’re sure he has an idea.

“I don’t know,” you repeat.

“A confession?” Hoseok smirks.

“Confession for what?” You hiss.

“You tell me,” he leans in so his breath hovers over the shell of your ear.

“Why are you always caging me in?” You ask, your eyes wistfully closing to focus in on your senses and indulge in the little contact he gives you.

He stares at you for a few seconds, and then pushes himself off the wall. “I’m off,” he says, placing his hands up into the air to emphasize his words. “You can leave if you want to.”

You stand there, and had it been absolutely anybody else, you would have. But your feet stay glued to the floor and your palms press up against the wooden door to keep yourself steady.

When you don’t move, his hands reach out for your waist and you jut them out so you can feel his touch sooner. Your throat hitches, and he notices.

“Am I crazy, or do you want me just as much as I want you?” He brings his voice down to a whisper, closing in on the distance between your bodies.

“You’re crazy,” you mumble.

“Then why didn’t you leave just now?” You feel his lips brush over your ears and you shiver against him, his wet exposed chest now tightly pressed against yours.

He connects his mouth to the back of your ear, slowly moving against the skin and skimming the surface with his lips.

“Mmm,” you let out, squirming and clenching your core, forgetting to answer his question. His fingers tighten around your hip.

“You’re so cute,” he groans, settling his parted lips against the juxtaposition of your shoulder and your neck, staining it with saliva.

Your hands grab his forearm for support. “Hoseok—”

“Is that not vulgar enough for you?” He props his head up, resting his cheek against yours. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You groan at his words. The swim shorts he had on did little to hide his growing bulge. “Ah, ah,” you squirm as he begins rubbing against your thigh, the tip brushing against your centre.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he whispers. “Can I touch you?”

You nod, letting out a gasp and moving in time with him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he groans.

Hoseok reaches down to cup your centre through your shorts.

“I can’t stop thinking about feeling you—”

You interrupt his words with another moan. His fingers begin rubbing you, flicking your clit through the thin material.

“Tasting you,” he adds and you squirm. “Feeling those hips move against my face.”

“H-Hos—” You can’t even finish your words as his hand begins moving faster with the intent to take you to the peak.

“God, and being inside you.” He leans back so he can drink in the way your eyes screw shut and your mouth gapes open to moan his name. “I could come in my pants right now at the thought.”

Your hand reaches down to grip his wrist. “Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“What if I do?” He asks, his fingers ceasing to move and your eyes fly open.

“Please don’t,” you plead, practically melting in his touch, his warm palm still cupping your centre. You were too dizzy, too turned on to even comprehend the power you gave him. But you didn’t care. You loved it. “Please, please, please.”

His fingers move again, now focusing on pleasuring your clit. You lean your head against the wall, exposing your neck to his hungry lips. He starts to suck at your throat and your hands tremble around him. There are too many sensations happening and all of them make explosions go off in your core. You let your tongue hang, imagining the taste of him on your tastebuds; his lips, his neck, his chest, his thighs, his cock.

“Right there,” you groan as his index finger brushes over your clit, creating delicious friction against your constraints, “right there, right there.”

Hoseok lifts his head up from your neck to watch you, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your skin breaks like rope. “Right there?” He nudges your clit again.

You tremble. “Right there—”

“Come on my hand.”

You do, electricity coursing through your veins and rendering your body immobile. He holds you upright, his hand still rubbing against you until you start to jerk from the sensitivity.

He pats your core, making you jump, the pats growing harsher into slaps. “That’s it, that’s it,” he whispers.

“Hoseok,” you mumble, pushing him off gently. He obliges, disconnecting his palm from you.

“Look what you did to my hand.” He puts his hand closer so you can see. The light reflects off his fingers, sheen and covered in your slick. You smile, taking deep breaths to recover from the high you reached.

Everything hits you at once. You just did this. With Hoseok. You did this—with Hoseok.

“You okay?” He asks, leaning his head down so the tips of your noses are brushing against each other. As he turns his head to the side to peck at your check, the reflection of the pool’s waves gets caught in his warm orbs, creating a whole ocean in his eyes. The light kiss on your face tickles, making you squirm in his touch. In response he rides your shirt up, placing the hand he touched you with against the skin of your hipbone. You feel your come, especially as he pulls it away to rest on the small of your back and the slick sticks to his palm.

“Uh,” your mouth hangs open, too sensitive and still on Cloud 9 to respond. You bite down onto your lip nervously, chewing into the skin for something to occupy your mind with instead of him.

This is too much, too much, too much.

“Wait,” you place your hands on his chest gently. “I can’t continue.”

Hoseok pulls away then, eyes darting around your face. “Oh,” he mumbles as he steps away, “I’m sorry. That was—”

An ugly pause.

“I’ll go,” Hoseok speaks. His eyes don’t meet you. “Maintenance, and all.”

You nod, looking down at the floor. He walks off to retrieve his towel and abandoned swimming cap, both in his hands with a weak grasp.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’ll—I’ll stay out of your way—from now on.” You feel your heart jerk in your chest at his words. His eyes land on your face and then fall on the floor in front of you before closing the door behind him.

You stand still for a while, the only noise that surrounds the room is the delicate splash of the water against the pool edge and your quick breathing. As you attempt to move, you feel your arousal between your legs and you’re reminded all over again.

You stutter trying to put the key in the door as you hear the noise of a shower coming from the changing room. You pause in front of it.

God, you couldn’t even say what you wanted to say; that you liked him, that he made your cheeks flush and your heart race, that you wanted him to be what you were going to be passionate about, that you weren’t experienced in love or dating or caring about somebody but you would try it with him.

Instead you said, nothing.

If you get one chance at love in life, you had blown it.

You walk past the changing room door, choosing not to do anything. It was probably the smart decision. But not the best. And definitely not the easiest.

Somebody bumps into your shoulder, hard.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

You snap your head towards the voice, a frown etched into your face and your mouth open ready to retaliate. Your expression falls when you see Taehyung staring back at you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Got you,” he says, leaning closer.

The hallway was clearing out, but that didn’t stop the hardened stares directed at you and the coveted swim team member.

“You’re lucky. I would have knocked you out if you were somebody else,” you say with a small smile.

Taehyung places a hand over his chest. “I’m honored.”

You begin walking and he follows your lead.

“So,” he starts, “this means you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Your response is to frown, because you frankly don’t remember what he thinks you’re supposed to be mad at him about.

It clicks. “Oh,” you say, “the pulling-me-in-the-pool thing?”

His eyes glass over. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you couldn’t swim—”

“Okay,” you stop in your tracks and his eyes widen, “I can swim. And don’t worry, I’m not mad. I completely forgot about it.”

Half a lie.

“Okay.” He sighs. “That’s good. You should have told me sooner. I felt like an asshole for like—four days.”

“Poor you,” you mock, beginning to walk again.

“Listen, I have something else to tell you,” Taehyung says. For a second, your heart misses a beat. Was this about—Hoseok?

Even thinking his name makes your stomach drop. You haven’t seen him since that day, and you’re so unsure of the events had changed things between you and him, if maybe you were wrong and—

“You’re invited to my party this Friday!” Taehyung says, placing his palms up and wiggling his fingers.

“Oh,” you sigh, relief washing over you. “I thought it was gonna be something worthwhile.”

“Hey,” he jabs you in the ribs. “Well, it’s not really a party. It’s just all of us, at the pool, at 10pm.”

You miss a beat, stopping in your tracks. “Us?”

“The swim team, and you,” he specifies. “You better be coming. This will be like—a ritual—a welcoming into our clan.”

You laugh nervously, fending off the nervousness that begins to root in your insides. “Uh, maybe. I’ll check if I’m busy.”

“What?” Taehyung exclaims. “You’re coming! This is like, our only chance while Coach is gone. And plus, you’re the only one with the keys!”

You bounce in your place. “I’ll see—”

“Oh come on—”

“I don’t know.”

He moves his mouth to the side. “Is this about Hoseok?”

Your eyes widen. “What—”

“He’s been worn down for the past few days.” Taehyung lets out a sigh. “I don’t know what happened,” he continues, his face turning serious, “but he should fix it, or you, I don’t know. Like talk it out or whatever.”

You don’t say anything, too taken aback to do so.

“Whatever did happen, it’s taken a toll on his swimming. And I already know you’re involved in it somehow. You’re all he talks about.”

Your eyes fall to the floor.

He stares at you, taking note of how affected you were from his words. “Just come. I promise, it’ll be fun. And it’ll make you both feel better.”

You almost scoff of how unaware Taehyung is of the situation, but you nod nonetheless. “Okay,” you say hesitantly.

“Great!” Taehyung exclaims, taking ahold of your shoulders and shaking you. “Remember, 10pm! Friday! Fun!”

“I’ll try not to forget,” you say a little quietly. He grins, letting go of your shoulders and heading off through the cafeteria doors.

“And bring your swimsuit!” He yells just before the doors close. Your eyes linger before falling back onto the floor in front of you.

Everybody waits by the gym doors, all except for one. As you approach and the sight settles in, a sigh of relief is exhaled from your lungs. The longer you can keep running away, the better.

Taehyung spots you first. “Y/N!”

“Thank God,” Seokjin continues. “I thought we were gonna freeze out here.”

“I should have done that,” you smile, “damn.”

“Y/N,” Jimin whines. “Quick! Open the door already!” He’s jumping his weight from foot to foot, cradling his body with his hands.

You take the gym key out from your pocket, letting it glisten in the moonlight for a show. You allow everybody else to pour in after you after the door is unlocked.

“Ah,” Jimin indulges in the warmth of the room. “So much better.”

“Let’s go inside the pool, come on! I’m tired of dry land,” Seokjin says, already taking off his shirt and slinging to the side.

Jungkook giggles. “You sound like a fish.”

“I am a fish,” he replies with a smirk. “Born inside the wrong body of a human.”

“A blowfish,” Taehyung adds and Jungkook laughs harder.

“And you’re a manatee, Taehyung,” Seokjin mutters.

The gym door’s handles are rattled with and then swung open. Everybody’s heads turn behind them but you can’t bear to do the same.

“Hoseok!” Jungkook’s voice is dripping with excitement.

“Fashionably late as always,” Seokjin says, following with what sounds like a slap to his back.

“I slept in,” Hoseok says. That’s when your eyes meet his and just as quickly, they snap away.

His sunken in, heavy lidded eyes. You heart stumbles in your chest, missing a beat, and you feel the need to hold onto something so you tug at your shirt.

“It’s 10 at night,” Seokjin says, his hand slung over Hoseok’s shoulders, leading him to the pool area, “that excuse doesn’t work.”

“You ever heard of a nap, Jin?” Jimin tails behind.

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook beckons and you realise you hadn’t moved since Hoseok had come in. You swallow nervously, making your way gingerly. Taehyung walks by your side, raising an eyebrow at you.

You know exactly what he’s entailing, but you don’t know if you have the strength to do what he’s telling you to do.

“Please, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers when you don’t respond. His eyes flicker to Hoseok ahead of him, and then back to you.

A newfound heaviness settles on your chest, making it difficult to breathe or talk. Taehyung pats your shoulder before jogging and catching up to Jungkook.

The pool area was beautiful at night. The lights had turned on automatically, illuminating the pool and the room with a bright cyan color. Its waves reflected in the roof above, showing off the deep black sky and its painted stars.

“Me first!” Jungkook says, stripping himself from his shirt.

Taehyung dives straight in, performing a crisp cannonball.

“Oh, come on Tae,” Jungkook whines once Taehyung comes up for breath.

The laughter drifts out of your consciousness and becomes white noise once you feel Hoseok’s immense presence behind you. Your breath hitches when you hear him shuffle around to put some distance between you and him. God, this is so awkward.

“Y/N, Hoseok!” Jungkook shouts out in the water, momentarily distracted as Taehyung puts his body weight on his. “Get in!”

You shake your head, stepping away from the pool side, your stomach turning at the thought of being so close to Hoseok again, a painful sting running through your body when you remember how that encounter had ended and how it ruined your only chance with him.

“Y/N,” Jungkook groans when he sees you’re not getting in.

Jin carefully drops himself into the pool. “Hoseok, jump in.”

You turn to the side and tense up when you realise how close the two of you had been standing next to each other. Your gaze meets the floor by his feet to avoid his.

“In a bit,” he responds.

Jimin is the last in the pool, swimming a little faster to catch up to the others who had now migrated more to the centre, leaving you and Hoseok virtually alone.

You walk closer to the edge, your eyes focused ahead of you as you take a seat to dip your calves into the water. You take in a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Hoseok takes a seat next to you, just as you knew he would. He gives you some space between you and him, dipping his fingers into the water between his legs.

Heat flows across your face and you could feel your heart in your chest race. It takes everything within you to lift your chin up and turn towards him. Thankfully, his eyes aren’t on you, but your gaze on him doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey,” he says.

You swallow. “Hey.”

He looks at you and you wince. “That day—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you interrupt.

“I do,” he replies. “I—I was—moving too fast. I shouldn’t have done anything at all.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “You did nothing wrong. I let you—you know.”

He tilts his head to the side, taking a pause to recollect himself. “You wanted to say something that day, right?” Your cheeks flush with warmth. “That’s why you came again, right?”

You nod slowly.

“Were you going to—” He sighs. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I just,” you pause, bringing your voice down to a whisper, unable to keep your tone up for much longer. “I don’t know,” you trail off.

He rolls his head around on his shoulders with a sunken expression. “Y/N,” he groans, “I’m sorry it had to go down like that. You deserve way more than—what happened. In some musty pool area against the door. And with a guy like me.”

Your breath halts. “I think you’re—” you hesitate, “a great guy.”

He laughs lightly, peering at you with endearment that sets off fireworks in your insides. “No, I’m really not. You deserve—I don’t know—like rose petal covered bed and candles and shit like that. And not with guys like me.”

“I’d rather have guys like you then roses and candles.” You say it without thinking, letting the words form on your tongue faster than your mind can process it. He snaps his head to you, his eyes soft and swimming around your face to read your expression. “Uh, I mean, uhm” you stammer, unable to come up with a response.

“Listen Y/N,” he swallows, “I—I’m crazy about you. In more ways than one. And I didn’t get to show that—last time, and I’m sorry.”

Your heart has not stop pounding in your chest, but now it feels absent all together.

“I said I would stay out of your way, and I’ll stay true to my word, if you want me to.”

Your lips quiver, and you can’t find it in you to answer. His face falls and he turns to stand up. You grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No,” you stop him, “don’t go.”

His eyes dance around nervously, hesitantly sitting back down.

“I, well I—fuck, I can’t stop mumbling like a fucking idiot,” you hiss, slapping a hand on your forehead and rubbing your eyes, “Hoseok, I don’t know how to say the things I want to say. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

His eyes soften but the grimness doesn’t leave his face. He’s holding his breath, like you are.

“I want to be like you,” you say slowly and at your own pace, “passionate about something. I didn’t have anything to be passionate about, but then, ugh, what I’m trying to say is,” you pause before laughing, “you make me so nervous. I’ve never felt like this.”

He smiles, inching forward. You flinch as he leans over to your face and plants a light kiss on your cheekbone. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

Your eyes widen and your teeth dig into your lips so aggressively they might tear the skin. He pulls himself into the pool, giving you one last look before swimming to the others.

“Hoseok!” Jimin shouts when he nears. “Who can hold their breath longer? Me or Jin?”

“You, of course,” he responds with, earning water to the face.

“Let’s just settle this with a contest. Y/N!” Seokjin turns around, waving you over. “Come over here!”

Everybody turns around to look at you, beckoning you over, but your eyes fall to Hoseok. You lift your shirt up and throw it to the side before pushing yourself off the edge and landing into the pool. You hear excited cheers ahead of you and smile down at your feet as you shuffle closer.

“Quick, quick,” Jimin says before turning back to Seokjin, “you’re going down, brother.”

He laughs, “yeah okay.”

“You’re both wrong,” Taehyung pipes up, running his fingers through is wet strands, “I can hold my breath longer than everybody here.” Jungkook clicks his mouth in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got something to say, Kook?”

“Let’s finish this silly arguement,” Seokjin says just as you arrive, “the old fashioned way.” Hoseok stands across from you in the naturally formed circle and you hesitantly lock eyes with him. His eyes are soft, a wisp of a smile on his pink lips.

“Okay! No cheating,” Jimin announces, lifting up his index fingers in urgency, “on the count of three!”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Jungkook chimes with childlike excitement.

Your gaze doesn’t leave Hoseok’s.

“One!” Jimin counts.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker down, and then back up.

“Two!”

You smile.

“Three!”

Everybody submerges themselves under the water at once, leaving you and Hoseok alone standing.

You stride forward. His arms fold themselves over your body and you lift your hands up to hold the sides of his face gently. His lips are lush, so carefully placed on yours. Your eyes fall shut to focus in on the feeling of kissing somebody, indulging in the feeling of kissing him.

He takes a quick, frantic breath and you swallow it without hesitation like a flash of courage had surged through your body. You feel the vibrations of his groan against your mouth and you pull back.

He looks incredible, more incredible than ever before. Pink tinted cheeks and the petals of his lips were bruised and parted, chasing for air.

This is it. You finally said everything you wanted to say.

God, does it feel so right.

Like a reality check, you suddenly feel the prominent presence of four other boys still submerged in the pool, hopefully unknowing to the situation happening above, but then again, experienced swimmers weren’t opposed to keeping their eyes open underwater.

You turn your back, pulling your body up and out of the water with hasty movements. You look behind to lock eyes with Hoseok, enticing him to follow after you with a subtle grin painting your features. You run, as quickly and safely as you can, out of the pool area and into the corridors.

Hoseok arrives a few seconds after you, dripping with water and chest rapidly moving up and down. He walks toward you, backing you up against the wall and placing his lips on yours again. You grab onto his forearm that clenched as you brushed your fingertips against the skin. The cool AC hits your body and you shiver, now painfully aware of how freezing your body had become within a few seconds.

“Let’s go in here,” Hoseok suggests, pulling you into the girl’s locker room. He reconnects his lips to yours the moment he gets the chance to, making you softly hum into him. Your hands go down to roam the bare expanse of his waist, digging your nails into the hip bone.

You break the kiss to take a few inhales of air, your heart so palpable you could feel it in your chest.

Hoseok tilts his head towards you, his eyebrows furrowing. “Y/N,” he mumbles, “are you sure about—”

“Yes,” you say with the confidence that had been so hard to lift from the ground a few days ago but now rested at the surface of your being. You wanted this, more than anything. You had waited all these years for a guy like Hoseok to finally steal your breath. But now, here he was, flesh and blood, wrapped around you, pink lips, heavy chest, tangible pulse, wanting nothing more than what was on your mind too.

He molds his mouth against you, slowly at first, but his movements quicken their pace and increase the urgency as you tuck your thumbs under the waistband of his swimmer trunks, pulling down enough to reveal a peak of his wet thighs.

He returns the gesture, lifting his grasp on the small of your back to meet the tied up strings of your bikini top and letting it fall to the floor by your feet. You let go of your grasp on his shorts to instinctively cover your exposed chest up, but he stops you, keeping your wrists at bay instead. Then he moves into your body, wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Ah,” you whimper, grabbing onto his arm for support. His tongue peaks out from the seam of his lips and circles around the bud before sucking lightly. “Ah, oh gosh.”

“Gosh?” He pulls away, smiling. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

You can’t respond as he moves onto your other breast, repeating the treatment and making your nipples harden in the cool air. Another shiver runs through you, and you’re not sure if it’s from the air conditioning or the pleasure.

“You still cold?” He lifts his head up back to your level, saliva coating his lips and chin. You nod weakly, too engulfed in the sensations he’s giving you to find your voice. With that, he grabs your hand, leading you into one of the bathroom showers and closing the door behind you.

He gives you one quick kiss, pressing his palm into your breast and molding it to his liking before pulling away and turning the shower nob on. Cold water spurts onto your bodies, making you yelp and giggle away from the spray. He laughs too, his eyes trained on your face, and as if something switched in him, he pushes you against the wall, making love to your lips and your tongue one more time.

“Hold on,” he whispers as he adjusts the nob again to turn the water’s temperature up. It sprayed your skin more comfortably now, even creating an aura of steam around the small cubicle. He doesn’t waste any more time, roughly pulling your shorts down and throwing them over the door. “Oh, sorry,” his expression turns apologetic when you flinch.

“No,” you say, “I like it.” You close your eyes. “That’s embarrassing.”

“God, no.” He slams your shoulder against the wall, cupping your heat over your swimsuit bottom before slipping his fingers inside the material. “Fuck,” he groans, “you feel better than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

You giggle against his shoulder, and it morphs into a moan once he starts moving, pinching and massaging your clit. His fingers rub against your slit before going back and wetting your clit with your own juices.

“Ah, ah, Hoseok,” you whine and he inserts an index finger into you. Your hips jerk against his hand, your fingers dig into his skin, your cries of pleasure get swallowed up by his mouth. He pumps slowly, curling inwards when they’re knuckle deep.

“You’re so perfect,” he grumbles against your lips, his forehead resting against yours with a sense of weakness. He pulls his hand out, sticking his fingers into his mouth and wrapping his tongue around his digits obscenely for your eyes only. “Fuck you taste so good. Wanna taste?”

You nod and he moves forward, sticking out his tongue that still had reminiscences of your juices on the tip. Your tongue meets halfway, licking up into the muscle and swirling it around to taste yourself. When you finish, he presses his body against yours, sneaking a hand behind to slap your ass.

“Who knew you were so dirty?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. “Or is it just for me?”

“Just you,” you whine back.

“Fuck,” he moans, leaning down to seal his lips on your neck and licking a stripe of saliva on the side. He falls to his knees, pulling your bottom down earnestly. You step out of it urgently and just as you do so, he delivers a stripe of saliva against your lower lips.

“Hoseok!” You groan, your fingers massaging his wet scalp and pushing his strands out of his face so you can see it better as he connects his plush lips to your centre, dipping the tip of his tongue into your wetness. His eyes are fluttered shut, jaw slack, wet droplets running down his pink cheeks.

He moves his muscle in and out, accumulating your juices on his lips and chin. He moves away to latch onto your clit, wet from his previous actions. He sucks hard, flicking it with his tongue from time to time. It was enough to make your knees weak and your heart hammer.

“Ah, Hoseok,” you yelp, jerking your hips and running a hand through your hair, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—”

“So quickly?” He teases, his tongue still connected to your clit. “Fuck, I’ll blow my load at the thought of you coming on my tongue. God, you’re so delicious, you’re so fucking good—”

“Hoseok—”

He ignores your warning, sucking hard again before moving his mouth against your slit. You come, riding his face in quick, hurried motions, pulling at his hair and using your other hand to slap at the wall uselessly. You had never felt so much lighter, like you were floating on the highest layer of heaven, and with a sight like the one you had, fuck.

He lodged his tongue against you, collecting every bit he could milk from you, lapping it up and licking you clean. Your body twitches in sensitivity, and he pulls away, leaving a sloppy kiss against your hip.

“Oh baby,” he groans, standing up and kissing the bottom of your jaw, “you’re so fun to eat out. I could do it all day. Fuck, you’re so tasty.”

You feel like you lost your voice, unable to say anything besides what sounds like his name and coos of ‘ah’ and ‘oh’. As he presses himself against you, you feel his length against your thigh, wanting nothing more than his cock on your tongue. You lean down and grab it through his shorts, pumping up and down painfully slow.

His eyes screw shut, chewing his bottom lip to keep his moans concealed. Then he pushes your hand away, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and locking them against the wall by your head.

“Hoseok,” you whine, your tongue wagging out of your mouth.

“Not for your first time,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your nose and taking deep breaths. “For your first time, you deserve to be eaten out and filled up, nothing more.”

You pout and you feel his breath hitch at the sight.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “you can take me out, but that’s it.”

Your lips form a grin and you feel his length twitch against you, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream at how much you affect him. Your fingers slide underneath his shorts, wrapping themselves around his dick and pumping slowly. He throws his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically with each breath he takes.

With one hand, you pull down his shorts, stroking the revealed skin. He helps you by pulling down the other side, and then he was completely exposed. So immaculately beautiful and sinful, you wanted to feel his whole body on your tongue and leave hickies everywhere in your wake. You rub the pad of your thumb of his tip, running it over his slit and collecting his pre come.

“Y/N,” he whines and he sounds so beaten, so weak, desperate for release. You lift your thumb up to your mouth and envelop it in. His lids fall halfway, teeth trapping his bottom lip so harshly. It releases itself to sound out a deep grunt. “Shit, I want to be in you.”

His hand goes to massage the side of your waist, another to dip into your centre again.

“You’re so wet, fuck, I’m gonna come before I’m even in. Embarrassing right?” He lets out a breathy laugh as he rubs his length along your lips, coating it with your slick and rubbing it against your clit.

You shake your head frantically.

He groans, pushing his head into you. “It won’t take much for you to see that,” he whispers, “with you, I’ll come in seconds.”

Your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks burn up even more. He pushes all the way in until your hips are flush against his. A groan slips out of your lips.

“You okay?” He leans down to peck the side of your mouth.

“Just hold on,” you grunt, shutting your eyes close. The pain is immense with his hilt buried deep into you.

“Let me do a stroke,” he suggests and you nod. He pumps out, and then slowly back in. You clench, holding your breath hostage. “Now?”

“Hurts,” you mumble, “but keep going. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Hoseok interludes, pumping at a leisure pace, gently. A surge of pain and pleasure shots through your system. “Better?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. He still moves with caution but it’s sped up a little more.

It feels like it’s just you and him in this world, smushed against each other’s bodies in a shower cubicle, his arm holding up your leg to reach further and your moans echoing off the walls.

He looks amazing with his wet hair pushed back and your slick coating his mouth and his eyes lidded with dangerous intent. The room grows warm and musty underneath the hot shower head but you pay no mind, especially as the heat brings rubescent color to his face and his skin feels like fire under your touch.

He feels incredible too now, the initial pain now faded into dreary pleasure you can hardly fathom. He hits a particular spot and you let out a drawn out groan.

“You should be a little quieter, baby,” he grumbles with another hard thrust, “there are people out there, you know? You want them to hear how you sound when you get fucked?”

You squirm uncomfortably, having forgotten the rest of the team was still only a few rooms away and walls are paper thin these days. The thought of anybody but Hoseok right now didn’t seem ideal, but his words lights a burn in the pit of your stomach.

“God, you’re naughty,” he grunts, slowing down his pace to an agitating back-and-forth. “But I don’t want them to know how you sound. Let out those cute moans for me.”

You nod feverishly, leaning forward to connect your mouths together and dance with his tongue. Every touch feels electrified now that you’re so close to your peak; so close you can feel it gather at your throat and savour on your tongue.

“You’re so good, Y/N,” Hoseok says as he rests his forehead against yours, thrusting into you with a newfound urgency that makes you let out nonstop whimpers. “You have no idea. God, I’m so lucky.”

Your heart is racing to the finish line, your pants frantic and your body clenching uncontrollably. If you were to be honest, you had never felt so incredible, and you know it’s far beyond the act of having sex for the first time.

It was him. His sweet dirty talk that makes you wet and blush at the same time, every touch so carefully chosen in order to make you feel good, the way he confesses and the way he smiles and his cute laugh; you were really crazy for him.

You let go, like a heavy stone had been lifted off your chest. Fireworks, sparks go off in your abdominal, you start seeing black spots in your vision because the pleasure completely throws you off but in the best way possible. He follows soon after, pulling out just in time to come onto the tiles below and letting it wash down into the drain.

His hand pumps his length a few more times until he meets your gaze again, and suddenly you’re all he’s ever known. He rushes forward, kissing you gently and rubbing the small of your back. You pull away for air and he peppers kisses along your cheek bone and on the button of your nose.

“So,” you say, “what are we gonna do?”

He leans back, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” you start, reaching to rub your collarbone, “are we going to go back out there or—”

“No way,” he laughs, “those are my best friends, and they’d never let it down if they knew we did it in the girls’ locker room.”

You giggle with him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “At least it wasn’t the boys’ locker room.”

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.

“It’s gonna be cold,” you mumble, remembering you left your shirt back at the pool and he only brought his swimming trunks in.

“We can run?”

“Hypothermia doesn’t stop just because you’re fast.”

He taps his chin. “I’ll go in and steal one of the boy’s towels. I know Jin always keeps a spare in his locker.”

You smile. “You know his passcode?”

“He’s a simple guy,” he pushes your shoulders back so you’re looking at him. “Birthdays and what not. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You bend down, picking up your discarded and still wet clothing, rubbing your palms against your skin to momentarily create friction. As you’re making your way out of the locker rooms, you feel Hoseok wrap his arms around your figure, bringing you dense warmth from his upper body. He goes in through the door, grabs the towel, and wraps it around you and his shoulders, keeping a hand at your hip and the other gripping the towel over him.

The night was still young, sky pitch black, and neither of you found yourselves caring too much about the missed opportunities and the lost time on your hands. You felt perfectly content going to bed early wrapped around his, entangling your legs with his legs, drumming your fingers along his rhythmic chest.

He was the last person you thought you could ever care for, but here you are.

“Shit,” you hiss. His clock blinks a red 4:58 mockingly. “Hoseok,” you shake him awake.

“Mhm?” He mumbles, blinking awake.

“Get changed,” you say, throwing the sheets off of you.

“Oh fuck,” he curses, taking a look at his clock and jumping off the bed. “Coach will be so pissed—”

“This is like the second time in a row, Hoseok,” you grunt, pulling a shirt over you and slinging your bag over your shoulders. “This never happened last year. I’m getting fired.”

“No you’re not,” he says as he climbs into his swimming trunks, “it’ll be fine.”

You run together through the campus, hand in hand, the smell of another annual autumn invading your senses, crisp leaves crunching under your feet and a musty breeze. You can see the early creeks of the sun peeking through, and it’s a telltale sign you’re late.

Hoseok bursts through the doors first and you follow behind him. Four heads turn to your direction.

“Late as always,” Coach mumbles down at his feet, “is being on time not a cool trend anymore?”

“Sorry Coach,” Hoseok speaks up.

“We slept in,” you say for him.

Taehyung whistles. “Bow chicka wow wow—”

“Don’t you guys have another other excuses?” Jimin clicks his tongue, biting back his oncoming giggles.

“Let’s just get going,” Coach sighs. “Eight laps for you, Hoseok. And you,” he turns to look at your face. You tense up. “I thought I told you you were supposed to stop him from coming in late.”

“Sorry Coach,” you duck your head down. “Last time it’ll happen.”

“To be honest Coach,” Seokjin says, “there is something about Hoseok’s bed that makes you want to sleep for much longer. I think it’s because his sheets smell so nice. And he got those silky pillows recently.”

“Get in the pool, Seokjin,” Coach tilts his head to the side and Seokjin follows his orders, making Jungkook choke out a laugh.

“How do you know, Jin?” He asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Taehyung reaches the pool edge first, closely followed by Jungkook.

“Woo!” You cheer, flashing him a great grin. “Nicely done!”

Taehyung gives you an out-of-breath smile with a thumbs up. All your hounding about improving his stamina for the past year had paid off. Everybody gives him a round of applause once they reach the finish line too. Jungkook says the races are the best part of the lesson. Seokjin swears he’ll beat Taehyung one day, but that’ll be hard now that he’s become ‘a swimming machine’.

“Y/N, you got a moment?” Coach asks.

You nod, turning back to the team. “Let’s do two laps of butterfly now. Jimin, don’t forget to keep your legs close together.” They kick off the wall at the sound of your whistle and you pull away from the lesson. “Yeah, Coach?”

“Y/N, I wanted to say I like what you’ve done with the team. I can see the improvement these boys have had since you’ve taken a lead in the lessons,” he says and your eyes light up.

You’re too caught off guard to answer, instead choosing to grin like an idiot.

“Maybe in the future I can look into stepping your position up to Co-Coach. It’s no guarantee just yet but—”

“Thank you, Coach!” You squeal and then clear your throat. “I’m honored.”

“I said no gu—” He stops himself when your expression doesn’t budge. “Oh, one more thing,” he adds and you raise your eyebrows, “about your friend.”

“Yeah?” You perk up.

“Yerim, am I right?” You nod feverently. “I’ve looked at her application and we could use somebody to keep the team organized when we go to nationals.”

“So—she’s hired?” You grin.

“No guarantee—��

“Got it, Coach,” you grin even wider, “I’ll tell her the good news.”

Coach sighs and then forms a smile. “I think I see Jimin over there kicking with two legs.”

You turn around. “Hey! I said keep your legs close together when you kick.”

Jimin pulls up from the water, annoyed. “It’s hard!”

“Well do one more lap,” you instruct and he groans, “I’ll watch you this time. Everybody else rest.”

Before you go to follow Jimin’s lap along the side of the pool, you catch Hoseok’s eyes. He leans against the edge, his arms propped up and his gaze softly settled on yours. You feel your legs tremble at the sight, and even after all this time together, he still has that effect on you. You send him a small smile and he eagerly returns it, his expression melting tenderly. Your heart beats so fast you almost forget you’re supposed to be watching Jimin’s lap.

When practice ends, Hoseok slings a wet arm over your shoulders, bringing you into the warm envelope of his towel.

“What you down to do today?” He asks, rubbing your arms.

“I’m still tired,” you answer, “and I really like those silk pillows you got.”

“Bought them just for you,” he grins and you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, just for you and me. I think Jin slept in my bed once though.” You laugh. “Let’s go back to my dorm and catch some winks of sleep.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Maybe I can eat you out before you take a nap—”

“I did not just hear that,” Taehyung exclaims behind you.

“Hey!” You swat your hand at him. “This is a private conversation!”

“God, I’m gonna be sick,” he holds his stomach for dramatic purposes. “God forbid our baby Jungkook hears those vile words.”

“What’d they say?” Jimin asks curiously.

“Alright, alright,” Hoseok puts up his hand, letting go of you in front of the boys’ locker room, “let’s be a little mature.”

“What’s happening?” Jungkook perks up.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung rushes forward, covering the boy’s ears, “stay by my side. Don’t ever walk near Y/N and Hoseok in the middle of conversation, do you hear me?”

“He can’t. You have his hands over his ears,” Seokjin comments, pushing past the doors.

“Fair point,” Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook, patting Jimin on the back before disappearing into the changing rooms.

“Y’all nasty,” Jimin mumbles and you laugh. Jungkook follows after him, furrowing his eyebrows at you as if trying to decipher the situation but failing cutely.

“Okay but really,” Hoseok says in the middle of the doorway. “How about it?”

You grin. “Get changed, Jung.”

[badhockeymom]

It's not that irrational actually.

(And even if it was it doesn't matter; this is my blog and it reflects my feelings and thoughts which are allowed to fluctuate and need no consistent justification)

But it's not irrational.

In a way, Sergei has come a full circle in life. And what happens when you draw a circle? You end up approaching the point where it all began in exactly the opposite direction.

Young Fedorov, like other Soviet defector NHL pioneers, fled an oppressive system. Today's Fedorov, head coach of CSKA Moscow and assistant coach of the ROC Men's Hockey team, is in the core elite of a new oppressive system created on the remains of the one he fled. The same goes for his former teammate Vyacheslav Fetisov, Minister of Sports in Putin's cabinet 2002-2008, ever since then the president of CSKA Moscow.

Why does this make them core elite? Because sports is one of the key PR - or propaganda - tools in Putin's politics. Just to take one example - the very reason that Russian Olympic athletes aren't allowed to compete as a national team is a ban due to a state-lead doping program.

So yeah. I know it has no significance if I post a pic of a yesteryear's hockey hottie or not. The yesteryear's hockey hottie didn't wear his useless fashionable nose bandaids and flowing shirts or skate and score to be a poster boy for the murderous politics of a dictator, but whether he wanted it or not, today he is one.

(Please don't come to me with the "well we can't know what he like reaaally, deep down thinks, they all have to oblige for reasons" - when we don't know if they deep down hate Putin, we also don't know if they deep down love him, so all we can stick to is actual words and actions. If you claim to know that your fave "is not like that" because you know their soul, that's just your parasocial relationship speaking.)

Yeah pics of young Sergei Fedorov still give me a girl your ovaries are about to explode reaction.

No I can't post him not now. It's irrational.

[sheet-music-for-teachers-school]

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