#i started fall semester for college not too long ago and its already beating my ass 💔 sorry for going radio silent LOL

[apradonite]

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though,  all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.  

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.  

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.  

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.  

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. ��i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud. 

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.  

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms​ @khjssss​ @yixing-jaehyun​ @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek​

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78 

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 6 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry for being so inactive, I just started up college again this semester and it’s been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. I think I might try to update Sunday every week starting next week so we will see how that works out!

Warnings: Soft mention of drugs once again, They are just talking again and things are being put in motion. 

Plot: Spencer and you have conversations and make some plans. You have a certain kind of dream. 

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer could feel his cheeks grow warm, a grin creeping its way onto his face. There was the pesky idea of fate repeating in the back of his mind. Spencer suppressed the idea, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He was too busy zoning out, thinking about how easy the smile on his face appeared when he heard your voice, not noticing the growing silence over the line. “Spencer?” your voice called through the phone.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m here!” Spencer laughed quickly, clearing his throat nervously. “Why are you up?”

He heard you laughing over the phone, nervous knots twisting in his stomach. “Spencer, it’s seven o’clock.” You giggled, feeling lighter than you had all day. You heard him laugh nervously at himself as he muttered an embarrassment, “Right.”

Spencer licked his lips, “Why did you call?” he questioned, trying his best to relax on his couch.

You felt the weight in your chest replace the butterflies, swallowing hard. You had kept it all in, it was hard to pick the reason for your call. You took in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Things have just been piling up, and I feel like I need some help.” your fingers pinched the comforter between your thumb and index.

“What kind of things have been piling up?” Spencer asked, straightening as he listened.

You pinched the comforter tighter, jaw clenching down. You didn’t want to cry with Dr. Spencer Reid on the phone. Maybe it was because you hated feeling vulnerable. You tried your best to relax and remember that he wouldn’t judge you, he said to call if you needed anything, and you did. “I don’t want to say something stupid,”

“You won’t,”

“Well, it kind of started when I left the hospital. I had a dream, a memory, one night. I could feel her, she wasn’t there, because she’s dead! Then,” you let out a calming breath, “Then, I was in my mom’s kitchen, and I saw this pink light. I was back there, like in the room, I could feel it, smell it.” You shivered, overwhelming anxiety dawning on you.

You felt safe with Spencer, you couldn’t explain why you did, but you did. Was it because he was the first face you saw that day? Or because he had come to check up on you in the hospital?

Despite your overwhelming feeling of trust towards Spencer, you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in the back of your mind that told you he thought you were crazy. Clammy hands rubbed against your pajama pants in a desperate attempt to dry them.

Spencer wanted to spew statistics, say something about how many victims experience post-traumatic stress disorder, but he stopped himself. He wanted to dig deeper, he wanted you to know you weren’t alone. He cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. “I know what it’s like, to feel like they’re still around. It seems irrational to think that a dead person is around, that getting saved was all a dream, but I know what it’s like.”

Your heart rate slowed at his words, closing your eyes as you chuckled gently. “You just have to say that because you're my federal agent,” teasing him softly over the phone.

“Hey, that’s Doctor federal agent to you.” Spencer joked, a tiny chuckle building up in his throat. “I’m saying it because I know,” he ruffled his hair as he tried to think about what to say, falling back into a silent panic. He wasn’t used to talking to people about it, especially people that he didn’t know. He tried to recall his emotions, trying his hardest to remember. He wanted to be a beacon of light for you, something to follow, something to trust. He swallowed hard, “About two years ago, I was kidnapped,”

“Spencer,” your tone was so soft, so sweet, he felt his chest pound. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” You heard a gentle protest on the other line, shushing him. “Spencer, really, it already means the world to me that you gave me your number. You didn’t even have to pick up and yet, you did.”

Spencer hesitated, wanting to insist that he was fine with talking about it, to insist that it didn’t bother him, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew that it wasn’t something he was comfortable with talking about and you were right. He didn’t even know you, but here he was trying to convince you that you were safe. That you weren’t alone. “I’m sorry,”

“For what?”

Spencer grinned, feeling lame as he searched for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you spoke up again, “Spencer, I’m not working right now and I’m always alone,” you trailed off, your cheeks flaring, “Well, I was wondering if I could keep calling you. As long as you aren’t busy,”

You were waiting to hear Spencer’s calming voice reject you, but you could hear the excitement in his voice as he answered with an enthusiastic “Yes,”

You felt your chest tighten, “I’ll call you tomorrow at eight?”

“Eight sounds good,”

“Okay,”

“Okay,”

You quickly said a nervous goodbye, hanging up after hearing Spencer bid you farewell.

---

It was night, cool breezes blew through your hair, as you looked up with a smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands holding your hips. You ignored the excitement shooting down your spine, your body feeling nuclear under his touch, your emotions being the bomb and his touch was the impact. You felt so wonderfully warm if something touched you, you were sure it would heat up in a second.

You felt his hands move away, pulling at his neck for a thick scarf, wrapping it around your neck delicately, pulling you closer by the ends of it. He laughed, peppermint filling your senses, leaning down quickly. You caught a glance of hazel eyes before you woke up in your lonesome bed.

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you push yourself up on your bed, blinking as you registered who you were just dreaming about. You let out a whisper of a desperate no, dramatically falling back down onto the bed with a groan. Your hands rubbed your eyelids, trying not to picture Spencer leaning down, trying not to remember how he smelt of peppermint. How did you even know that? You scolded yourself as you got up, throwing on some semi-appropriate clothes and heading for the door with your crutches.

You needed some air, you knew he was in your dreamland of romance because he was the last person you talked to last night. After the phone call, you spent the rest of the long night on your bed with a copy of The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Why couldn’t demonic Dorian Gray live in your dreamland? You limped into the coffee shop, holding back a giddy smile as you gave Spencer Reid’s lips one last thought.

You had spent the rest of your day, doing mindless tasks; you read, you cleaned, watched mindless television, anything to keep yourself distracted. Your mind kept drifting towards darker ends, today seemingly worse than the last. Your body yearning desperately for numbing bliss, a gentle reminder that despite all of your romantic dwellings you were still living in an unbearable existence.

You were about to endure another episode of staring up at the ceiling when there was a gentle knock at the door. You welcomed the distraction with a grin, hobbling as fast as you could, over to the door. You opened it to see a delivery woman smiling back at you as she handed you a tiny package, you signed for it quickly and politely shut the door. You sat at your kitchen table, opening the package with a tiny struggle.

It was free from all the tape now, but you couldn’t stop the sick feeling from eating at you. What if you had another stalker? How stupid were you to just bring a package into your house? After everything that had happened, you cursed yourself for your carelessness. You swallowed a quick gulp of air, opening up the package slowly. You let out the air with a tiny gasp, seeing a tiny card on the inside that read Spencer. The note was right next to a box of peppermint tea and a small copy of Oscar Wilde’s The Nightingale and the Rose.

You tried not to let it get to you as fire decorated your cheeks, you opened the note quickly, reading messy handwriting.

Y/N,

Since you said you were always alone, let this keep you company.

-Spencer

You bit the inside of your cheek, heart racing as your stomach filled with the fluttering wings of butterflies. Before you could let your mind go any farther, you suppressed them, choking the life out of beating wings in your stomach. It wasn’t fair to him, to Spencer. He was too good and you were here in your apartment, yearning for a drug to satisfy you. He didn’t need that. He shouldn’t have to fix you and he wasn’t going to be your coping mechanism.  

You stood up, grabbing the peppermint tea, slipping it into the cabinet with a dramatic huff. On your way back to the couch you grabbed the book, sitting down and letting it do the job of keeping you company.

After a cup of peppermint tea, you called Spencer’s phone. You felt a very familiar lump grow in your throat as you heard the first ring. Despite being in the good company of a good book, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. It seemed that thoughts of him kept you more company than anything Oscar Wilde could produce. You let yourself be convinced that he was just a friend, that he was just someone trying to help you get through a rough patch. He was just someone who understood.

Another ring. You squeezed your eyes tight, the sudden urge to hang up the phone was becoming slightly overwhelming. You were about to hang up the phone at the third ring, but then you heard a very breathless “Hello?”

Anxiety exited your system, warmth replacing the void effortlessly. “Hi,” you chuckled, hearing a heavy pant on the other end of the line, “Did I interrupt a workout  routine?”

“No,” Spencer let out a breathy laugh, relaxing at the sound of your voice. It was a welcome distraction from his day, they didn’t have a case, it was just a long day. “I was just cleaning up,”

“Is the doctor dirty?” you questioned, the word choice setting in as your cheeks became a light pink, stuttering to fix your mistake. “I mean, messy! Are you messy?”

Spencer didn’t think the question was all that odd till he realized that it could have been taken out of context and then he let out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “No, I’m not dirty, just cluttered,” he answered, a smile on his lips. “Did you get the package?”

“Yes,” Your voice rising in volume with excitement, “I did, it was perfect. Thank you so much.” A tiny piece of guilt slithering into your mind as you stole a glance over at the book next to you. You were about to speak when Spencer cut you off.

“I was just thinking about what you said last night and thought it would cheer you up,”

Your guilty thoughts came to a halt, a blush creeping its way towards your ears as you let out a gentle, “It did,”

“I’m glad it did,”

You let out a soft hum, trying to come up with something to say. You wanted to ask him how his day was, or ask him how he was feeling. But all of those questions seemed weak. You could’ve told him that you wanted to be friends, but your emotions decided for you. “Would you be alright with going out, like as friends?”

“As friends?”

“I would like us to go out as friends, yes.” your voice shook slightly with anxiety as you waited for his response.

Spencer couldn’t fight back the laugh bubbling in his chest, chuckling at how nervous you seemed. “I would love to,”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you might think I’m weird or something?”

“Y/N,”

“Yes?”

“I would want nothing more than to go out with you, as a friend, that is.”

[enjennie]

Chapter 1 - The Long Haul

Exodus

Chapter 2 - Here

Word count: 2k

Moon Yuri loves train rides and sitting for long durations of time, which is why the trip to Oakwood College was a blessing in disguise to the girl who hadn’t had a wink of sleep for the past few weeks because her acceptance letter happened to have lost its way in the mail and only got to her a week before admissions ended. She had approximately two weeks to submit her application, pack up and leave everything behind her. The easiest part was actually the last thing, which she did with no hesitations.

Oakwood College has been her dream school since freshmen year when she came across an ad posted on their billboard for the seniors. They offer the best courses in the country, and that wasn’t even the best thing yet: it was being away from home. Yuri’s legs felt like jelly when she read the acceptance letter. She thought for sure she hadn’t gotten in. But, miracles proved to be true and now as she sat on the train to her new school, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“Sorry, is this seat taken? Everywhere else is taken,” a voice disrupts her train of thoughts.

Yuri looks up to see a girl with long dark hair, her locks are clipped to the side and she wore a soft smile on her face.

“Of course,” Yuri gestured to the seat next to hers and the girl beamed before setting her things down and taking a seat. “I’m Jeong Seoyun. Are you attending Oakwood too?” the girl pointed at the school sticker Yuri had smacked onto her suitcase. She smiled, “Yeah! Nice to meet you, Seoyun. I’m Moon Yuri,”

“Sophomore?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Ditto. No one really moves during sophomore year. Well, except some. But, what’s your reason… if you don’t mind?” Seoyun had a vibe to her that Yuri couldn’t explain. She was warm, but cool at the same time. She felt like autumn. “I didn’t receive my letter last year. Oakwood contacted me two weeks ago asking why I didn’t enroll,” Yuri explained.

Seoyun looked perplexed. “You must have outstanding grades, then. Oakwoods doesn’t even respond to emails, let alone make them to personally contact people,” The two laugh and Yuri denied the compliment. In her old school, there was nothing else to focus on but studies. Which is how she managed to become the top in all her subjects, and graduated as valedictorian.

“What do you major in?” the girl relaxed her back against the seat. “Film,” Yuri answered. Seoyun nodded.

“That’s really cool. I know someone from that department. I take up nursing. Sounds boring, I know,”

“No way, that sounds awesome. I wouldn’t survive one semester in that course, though. Can’t handle blood and needles at all,” Yuri sniggered and Seoyun cracked into a smile. “Thanks. And that’s too bad, I hope you’ll be okay during vaccination day,”

“What now?”

“Vaccination day. Oakwood requires them once a year,”

Yuri looked at Seoyun with eminent fear written on her face and the girl burst into laughter. “I’m kidding! You should’ve seen your face, Moon Yuri. Hilarious,” Seoyun points at Yuri who’d taken a relieved breath.

The two spend the next two hours of the train ride talking and joking about and Yuri has never been happier to have found a new friend already.

“Which building are you in? If you’re in Beverly then we could go together since that’s where I room,” Yuri and Seoyun had gotten off the train and were now walking to the front gates of what would be called their home away from home for the next three years. “I got assigned to Athena, actually… is that far from Beverly?” Yuri pouted. She already didn’t want to be separated from her friend.

“That’s right next to Beverly!”

Yuri follows Seoyun into the large campus and they walk the path along the field and several school buildings until they finally reach their respective dorm houses. “Here’s Beverly and… over there, is your home sweet home,” Seoyun points to the similar looking building beside the one they stood in front of. The two exchange numbers and Yuri thanks Seoyun for accompanying her. She takes her bags and walks up to the now terrifying looking building. It was only scary because now, she had to face it alone.

But according to the dean, when she’d spoken to her on the phone, Yuri’s roommate wouldn’t be arriving until second semester due to some personal business. Which is why Yuri was grateful and relieved to have met Seoyun.

She carries her suitcase up the flight of stairs and looked around to look for her room. To her delight, she finds it right away, right by the stairs. Yuri took the key in her pocket and unlocked the room, revealing a fairly spacious room complete with two beds, two dressers and a closet for each person. In the middle of the room, was a door to the terrace.

She takes the bed on the right, and puts her stuff down to unpack.

Yuri was just about done unpacking when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She takes it out and reads the message she received from her dad.

Hi, pumpkin. How is college life so far?

Barely started, just moved in.

Knew you’d fit right in! Goodluck, kiddo.

Yuri rolled her eyes and scoffed at her dad’s half-assed text, throwing her phone to her bed and putting her last set of clothes into the closet and sliding the suitcase underneath her bed. Three knocks sounded from the door and Seoyun’s head pops in before Yuri could say come in.

“Hey, newbie. All settled in, I see,” Seoyun makes her way inside and Yuri spots a girl behind her. “This is Lee Minjae, my roommate,” Seoyun gestures to the stranger who had her eyes glued to her phone, typing rapidly. “Hi! Yuri, right? It’s nice to meet you,” Minjae was busy with her phone, but she shot a Yuri a small smile, which the girl returned. “Likewise, Minjae,”

“I see you took Yeeun’s old room,” Seoyun played with the curtains of the windows with her fingers before taking a seat on the edge of Yuri’s bed.

“Oh you know my roommate? The dean said she’d be here next sem,” Yuri shut her closet door and the two girls behind her exchanged looks. “The dean said that?” Minjae asked, suddenly not interested in her phone. “Yeah,” Yuri assured. “Do you know her?”

“She’s a close friend,” was all Minjae says. Yuri nods, placing her hands on either side of her hips.

“Hungry?” Seoyun deliberately changes the subject. Both Minjae and Yuri nod and the three girls pile out of the room and down the stairs, on their way to the dining hall.

 The sun was just setting and you can see it from where the three girls walked. But Yuri couldn’t enjoy the view of it, when a rogue soccer ball came hurling straight at her head from out of nowhere followed by the indistinct yelling of boys, presumably the ones responsible for it.

“Omg, Yuri! Are you okay?” Seoyun and Minjae’s concerned faces is all Yuri can see from where she lie on the ground. “Don’t worry,” Yuri managed to say through the pain. “I’ll live,”

Amidst the chaos, Yuri could hear the voice of a man. “I am so sorry. Renjun’s a complete jackass and can’t play soccer for shit-“

“Don’t blame this on Renjun now,”

“Jesus, Seoyun. Sorry your boyfriend couldn’t play for shit,” the voice spoke again.

Yuri closes her eyes, trying to get her world to stop spinning, before she’s pulled up from the ground by an impressively great strength. “Wow, Seoyun you’re strong,” she commented on it, truly believing Seoyun could pull her up so easily, but she was wrong. When she opens her eyes once more, it wasn’t in fact Seoyun, but a boy with dark hair and an encaptivating smile.

“I’m not Seoyun, but thank you,” he chuckled. Yuri rubbed her temples, groaning at herself. “Sorry. I really thought-“ she can’t continue her sentence as she couldn’t help but laugh at herself.

“I’m Jeno, what’s your name?” the boy introduces himself.

“Yuri,” she  responds. “My name is Yuri,”

“The name’s just as pretty as the person,” Jeno comments and Yuri feels heat rushing to her cheeks. The boy laughs, finding Yuri getting flustered an amusing sight. Behind him, another boy had come rushing in, apologizing profusely. “Are you alright? I’m really sorry, Jeno told me to just kick and I did,” the boy who Yuri guessed was named Renjun came into her view as he pushed Jeno out of the way.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry,” Yuri laughs it off, despite feeling the beating of her heart through her head, which to her knowledge, isn’t supposed to happen, but she didn’t want to be dramatic in front of these new people. Renjun gives her a smile, before turning to Seoyun behind him and placing his arms around her shoulder. “And how are you, my princess?” he cooed.

“Ugh, get a room. Come on, Yuri. You’re fine, yeah? Jeno go take your ball and leave!” Minjae scowls at the boy who raises his hand in defeat. “Yes, coach,” he joked. Jeno shoots Yuri a wink before jogging off, making sure to drag Renjun with him which left the girls to continue their disrupted plan to eat.

“Listen, Yuri. Don’t get yourself tangled up with Lee Jeno now. He’s big trouble,” Seoyun says, linking arms with Yuri who was just finishing up a juicebox. “Why not?” Yuri gulped, too shy to admit she found him a bit cute. “Trust me. He’ll make you feel like you’re on top of the world, then leave you to fall face flat to the ground once it becomes too much for him,” explained Seoyun. “That sounds awfully detailed, Seoyun,” Yuri inspected Seoyun’s face in the moonlight. She looked stunning, her long dark hair framed her features well and her lips were always curled into a smile. Yuri’s eyes flew to Minjae, who was once again glued to her phone. Her hair fell over her face, which was illuminated by the light from her phone.

“Oh shut up, Yuri. Me and Jeno? No way! I’ve just seen it happen to countless of girls,”

Yuri made sure to make a mental note of Seoyun’s advice.

The next day, Yuri was surprised to find out that she could no longer go on her social media and that the college apparently modified the Wi-Fi settings in which the students needed a certain password only given to teachers, to access any site they wanted. She discovers this when her Instagram stops loading as she had her cereal with Minjae and Seoyun.

“How about on weekends? Do they… remodify it then?” Yuri asked, desperation in her voice. Seoyun shook her head no, “Don’t worry, we got that covered,” she had a sly grin on her face. Yuri couldn’t ask any further questions as Seoyun got up to put her tray away. Minjae yawned, she barely touched her food.

“What she means is… every weekend, we go to Hyebin’s house and get our mental check there. Y’know, use the Wi-Fi and shit,” Minjae explained to the dumbfounded girl. “We’ll introduce you to Hyebin, she’s cool,”

Yuri nodded, the information still not sinking in. Probably because she didn’t have the best sleep last night. A new place and knowing the next day would be her actual first day in the college of her dreams, it made Yuri restless and toss and turn. Which is why she faced the living hell torture of trying to keep her eyes open during a 2 hour lecture on what is supposed to be her favorite subject; cinematography.

Coffee. Why didn’t I drink damn coffee? She thought to herself, and as if someone had been reading her mind, Yuri felt something warm brush up against her fingers. She opens her eyes and lift her head to see a cup of coffee. She looked beside her, and take notice of the boy she was too sleepy to acknowledge when she got in. After a few moments of Yuri just looking at him, he gets closer and whispers.

“Drink up, you look like you need it more than me,” he smiles, and his smile alone was enough to wake every fiber in Yuri’s body. She raises the cup to her lips and took a sip. And who could you be?

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (Epilogue)

Epilogue

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21, ch 22, ch 23, epilogue 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,587

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

                 Catalina took one last glance around her room before heading downstairs. She heard Jimin’s voice, which put a wide smile on her face. Him and Taehyung were back on time, which meant they’d be able to come with everyone that afternoon.

               She ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, before landing in the foyer. Taehyung and Jimin were taking their shoes off and setting their bags down, chatting with Hoseok and Namjoon. Catalina threw her arms around Jimin and asked him, “How was your trip?”

               He pulled away and smiled wide, his eyes disappearing. “It was incredible. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

               “I can’t wait,” Catalina said, smiling just as wide.

               “We were gonna go to the beach later,” said Hoseok. “Do you want to go with us?”

               “Sure! I think we’ll mostly just relax, though,” said Taehyung.

               “Here, I’ll help you unpack so you can get yourselves settled before we go,” Hoseok said, following them back out the car. Catalina left the foyer and went into the kitchen. The kitchen was beautiful, so different from when she first came into this house. They had it remodeled, actually, they had a lot of the house remodeled. Everything was a bit more modern, but their antiques were mostly still around. Even Yoongi redid his bedroom, saying he didn’t want to sleep in a rat’s nest anymore. He made an incredible amount of money on the antiques in that room, the museums practically begging him to part with them.

               The light was on in the kitchen when Catalina entered, which meant Jungkook was in there. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the fridge, staring into its contents with bleary eyes. His hair was a floof on top of his head and his pajamas were rumpled. Catalina came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. She laid her head on his back and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, something she’s become so very familiar with.

               “What will you have for breakfast?” she asked. He grunted in response, shifting some containers around on the shelf. He finally chose a container of leftovers and cracked the lid to sniff it. He sniffed it three times before deciding it was edible and dumping it on a plate. While it was heating up, he turned and opened his arms, letting Catalina settle into him.

               “Are you gonna surf today?” he asked.

               “You asked me that yesterday,” Catalina said with a giggle.

               “And you said no yesterday!” he said. She could feel his laughter in his chest where her head was resting.

               “Maybe,” she said. “I heard the teaching process is very hands on.”

               He chuckled and said, “Where did you hear that?”

               “Hm, I don’t remember,” she said. The microwave beeped and Jungkook let Catalina go so he could grab his food. She pulled a blood bag out of the fridge and sat down with him at the dining table, sipping at her drink while he ate.

               “What are you guys doing up so early?”

               Yoongi wandered into the kitchen with messy hair and tired eyes.

               “It’s beach day!” Jungkook said, much more awake now that he was eating. “You’re coming, right?”

               “No.”

               “Yoongi, you don’t have to swim or surf or anything,” said Catalina. “You can just sleep on the beach. Or drink wine on the beach. You need the fresh air, you’ve been at your piano for days. Plus, I think everyone would really like to spend some time with you.”

               “When are you going?” he asked.

               “We’re heading out around eleven,” said Catalina.

               “Oh. I’ll think about it,” Yoongi said. “Are Taehyung and Jimin back yet?”

               “Yes, they just walked in a little while ago,” said Catalina.

               “Good,” he said. “I’m glad their flight wasn’t delayed.”

               With that, he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               During the drive to the beach, Catalina made sure to sit in the back of the Jeep with Jimin.

               “So, tell me about the trip,” she said, a giddy smile on her face.

               “Ah, it was perfect!” said Jimin. “I’ve never been to Arizona before so I didn’t really know what to expect about the weather or anything. It really is very dry there. The heat is like heat from an oven. And the places we saw were so beautiful. We camped in the Grand Canyon and… it was insane. The Grand Canyon is insane. Everything was so incredible. And at night, you could see the stars perfectly. When we camped in Death Valley, there was absolutely no light pollution for miles so the sky was amazing. We saw the Milky Way.”

               “Oh wow,” Catalina sighed.

               “You and Jungkook should go next summer,” said Jimin. “You’d love it.”

               “Yeah, I would do that,” said Catalina. “That sounds like a lot of fun. We need to make up for our last trip.”

               They sat in silence for a while before Jimin said, “I can’t believe we’re going to France in two weeks.”

               “I know!” said Catalina. “I can’t believe it! This is something I’ve been waiting for my entire life and I’ll finally be able to do it!”

               “Is your solo ready?” Jimin asked.

               “I mean, as ready as it’ll ever be,” said Catalina. “You know how it is.”

Her and Jimin had both taken the winter semester off to recover from their transformations and to get used to their new bodies. Catalina used that time to choreograph a solo worthy of an audition in France. By now, the beginning of summer, she had perfected it as much as she could.

“I’m going to the studio to practice it tomorrow,” said Catalina. “You should come with me. You can help, or just watch. You haven’t seen it finished yet.”

“What time? I’m babysitting tomorrow,” said Jimin.

“Oh right! You’re doing that every Tuesday now, aren’t you?” said Catalina.

Jimin nodded and said, “Yep, Caleb’s sister has dance on Tuesdays, so I’ll just be there for a few hours.”

“Are you still gonna do that when classes start? You’re signing up for classes in the fall, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I don’t want to fall behind any more than I am,” said Jimin.

“Me too,” said Catalina. Then she smiled and grabbed Hoseok’s shoulder over the driver’s seat. “And you’re starting classes with us too, aren’t you?”

He laughed and said, “I sure am!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weather was perfect, and according to Jungkook, the water was ideal for beginner’s surfing. They got set up on a relatively empty patch of the beach. The family closest to them had a few kids, who were building a sandcastle near the water. It was Monday, so thankfully there weren’t too many other people there. Yoongi laid out a beach blanket and immediately laid down, covering his face with his sun hat. He was almost completely covered, with long sleeves and long pants. Catalina figured he was trying to protect his pasty white skin.

               Jimmy K settled down beside Yoongi with a thick book. Catalina had assumed he would be surfing with them that day; he seemed like the type to surf. Jimin and Taehyung lathered themselves in sunscreen and took their spots near the cooler, relaxing and watching the fun just like they promised. After shedding her shorts and tank top to reveal her new white bikini, Catalina lathered herself in sunscreen, since she could already feel herself burning. Then she grabbed her board and met the others down by the water.

At some point, the family next to them left and they were left to themselves on their private stretch of beach.

Catalina, Namjoon, and Hoseok kept their eyes on Jungkook and Jin, who were teaching them the basics of how to surf. They all had boards, rented ones for the newbies, and Catalina was excited to get out on the water. With every glance at the ocean behind her, she felt nervousness twist in her stomach. She had to keep reminding herself that she wouldn’t drown and she wouldn’t get hurt. Her body was stronger than it used to be, which was something she still hadn’t completely gotten used to.

                They were standing on their boards, Jin showing them how to position their feet. Jungkook went to each of them, giving them pointers or fixing their positions. He stepped onto Catalina’s board behind her and nudged her right foot forward a bit, hands on her bare waist.

               “Just keep your knees bent and your legs spread a bit more,” he said. His bare chest was pressed up against her back.

               “…And if you guys fall off, just let the current roll you until it’s settled, then come up,” Jin was saying. “But you guys won’t drown anyway, so no harm.”

               “Right, no harm,” Jungkook said, his hand sliding down to her butt.

She giggled and turned around to face him.

“Did Hoseok get this treatment when you helped him?” she asked with a wide smile on her face.

“He would probably like that,” Jungkook said with a laugh. “But this is only reserved for my favorite students.”

“Ooh, so Namjoon got this too,” Catalina said, winding her arms over his bare shoulders. He threw his head back and laughed. This was her favorite song. The sounds of his laughter, the waves hitting the beach, The seagulls calling overhead, his heart beating in his chest.

Catalina leaned up to press her lips against his, the board wobbling in the sand beneath their feet.

She never wanted this song to end.

[markonasurface]

20/50 - “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

Fandom: All for the Game/The Foxhole Court Characters/pairings: Jean, Jeremy/jerejean Summary: Jean and Jeremy tag along on the Foxes’ spring break trip. A/N: This has taken me too long to finish. I think I started it two years ago. I almost forgot to use the quote prompt.

Warnings: implied past abuse

“Kevin invited you to the Foxes’ spring break trip?” Jean asked, eyebrows high.

Jeremy barely glanced up from the text he was studying. “Mm.”

“Are you going?” Jean pressed.

“Are you?” Jeremy snapped.

Jean flinched and Jeremy’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry.” He finally put his studying materials down and turned to face Jean. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just - last semester, you know?”

“Yes,” Jean said, even though he didn’t. He felt the heat in his cheeks and internally cursed himself for not being able to control his reactions. Riko used to love to make him flinch. It was at one point worth the beatings for not giving him the satisfactory.

“So, are you going?” Jeremy asked, back to his normal self if a bit exhausted.

He bit the inside of his cheek and stayed completely still. It was hard being around Kevin but it might be nice. Kevin did whatever Riko told him to do but Kevin wasn’t cruel. He had learned from his therapist that he didn’t miss Evermore; he missed the familiarity of it. Kevin could give him a bit of what he thought to be normalcy.

“Jean?” Jeremy said quietly, patiently.

Jean looked up to meet his eyes. “I - yes.”

“You’ll have to give Kevin my regards,” Jeremy said and turned back to his text.

“You aren’t going?” Jean didn’t know if he was relieved.

“I should really study,” Jeremy sighed.

Their bedroom door opened and Jean jumped.

“Y’all left your door unlocked.” Laila fell onto Jeremy’s bed. “And you’re going to spend your last spring break studying? Come on, Jer.”

“Fuck off, Laila,” he said.

She nudged his chair with her foot. “I bet those Foxes get fucking crazy. I wish I’d been invited.”

“Take my invitation.”

Laila took a loud breath. “Mama Alvarez would have a cow if we bailed on her family trip.”

“If you don’t come they’ll probably stick me in a room with Hemmick,” Jean said.

“You could use the brea-eak,” she sang. “Also, see if they’ve picked up any new moves for finals.”

“Laila.”

She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m kidding. Go. Have fun. Or you’ll burn yourself out and have to come back in the fall.”

Day 1

“An island? Seriously?” Thea stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

Kevin shrugged.

“I thought we were just flying somewhere tropical,” Jeremy added.

“Why are you all looking at me?” Allison demanded. “Neil’s the one who paid for this trip.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Neil said. “I recently came into some money.”

Jeremy sighed. “Right. N.B.D. I just rented an island.”

“Follow me.” A man in khakis and a polo shirt motioned for them. He had introduced himself as Frank as they boarded the small plane that brought them to their rented island.

It was a short walk through some trees and a large house came into view. There were gasps and one of the freshmen from the team said, “No fucking way.”

“Dude, how much did this cost?” Matt asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Neil said, leading the way through the gate.

They walked past the pool and its fountains, up some stairs and through double doors. As they all stood in the foyer,  Frank smiled and said, “Right. Everything’s stocked. I’ll be back at the end of the week. If you need anything, call the number on the refrigerator.”

Neil handed the man a cash tip and thanked him.

Allison looked around at everyone. “There are ten rooms. Neil gets first pick, losers.”

“You mean Andrew,” Jack mocked.

It was quiet for a moment then at once everyone raced to find a room. Jean looked at Jeremy and said, “They’re fucking crazy.”

Jeremy laughed as they heard Dan yell, “I’m your damn captain!”

They followed the shouting and as they turned a corner Jeremy ran into Renee. They both apologized, looking like literal sunshine and Jean bit his lip.

“They’re the guests.” Allison was staring down one of her teammates. “They get the room next to ours.”

Jeremy realized she was talking about them and opened his mouth. Renee shook her head, a warning in her eyes. Someone stomped by and Allison grinned.

“Welcome to the third nicest - who am I kidding? - the fourth nicest room on this island!” She gestured grandly. “And that’s saying something.”

Nicky popped his head in. “Fifth nicest. Andrew and Neil gave up the first nicest so they have the second nicest, Dan and Matt have the third nicest, and you have the fourth nicest.”

Before Allison could demand to know who got the glass room on top if it wasn’t Dan and Matt, Nicky ran off.

Jeremy looked as if he suddenly remembered something. “Did you two wanna share? I can room with Nicky or whoever.”

Allison cackled. She left the room.

“We’re not -” Jean started.

“We were never dating,” Renee said.

Jeremy’s eyes were wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed and uh, forget I said anything.”

Renee smiled kindly and backed out of the room. Jeremy looked at Jean who was staring at the one bed in the middle of the room.

“I can still room with Nicky if you’re not comfortable sharing,” he said.

Jean swallowed. “It’s fine.” He managed a small smile and said, “We share every other day of the year.”

After they unpacked, everyone seemed to congregate by the pool. Nicky and Andrew were situated behind the bar and Neil was perched on top, but everyone else was already swimming.

Jean glanced around nervously. Since joining the Trojans, he’d become a lot more self-conscious about the state of his body.

“You can leave your shirt on.” The voice startled him and he looked up at Neil, then glanced to see if Jeremy had heard as well. Then he realized Neil was speaking in his native tongue. “But nobody cares.”

Andrew spoke. “Ignore the freshmen. They’re idiots.”

“Where’s Kevin?” Jeremy asked, coming to sit at the bar.

“Fucking Thea,” a girl said, joining them. “I saw her take his shirt off but then they moved away from the glass.”

Aaron grabbed a tray of drinks from Nicky and sneered, “Do you have to be such a perve, Sheena?”

She stuck her tongue out at him, snagging a drink and flicking her wet hair at him.

“Like, Andrew said,” Nicky stated. “The freshmen are idiots.”

He mimicked Sheena’s face, nose scrunched and eyes narrowed, then asked, “What can I make for you?”

“Something that’ll make me forget I have my last midterm when we get back,” Jeremy grimaced. “Who gives a midterm after spring break?”

“I got just the drink for you.”

The sound of the blender going again cut off conversation. Sheena left to play chicken with her friends and Renee called Jean over.

“Don’t break anything!” Dan called from where she was laying out with Allison and Renee as Jean joined them.

“Here you go.” Nicky handed him a glass.

Jeremy held the drink up and studied it. “Are those silver stars?”

“Edible silver stars.”

Aaron came back with a tray in one hand and a girl’s hand in the other and said, “Nicky has to make everything gay.”

The girl hit his arm lightly with the back of her hand. She looked at Jeremy and held out a hand. “Katelyn.”

“Jeremy,” Jeremy said and shook.

“I made you both the same,” Nicky said, handing two more glasses over the bar.

“On three?” Katelyn suggested. “One. Two. Three.”

Everyone who had a drink took a large sip and more than one of them sputtered. “What the fuck is this?” Aaron gasped. “Did you just add ice and stars?”

Nicky shrugged. “Make your own damn drinks if you don’t like it.” He hopped over the bar and ran for the pool.

“You’re drinking this?” Aaron asked in disbelief and Jeremy turned to see Neil gulping it down.

After one large sip, Jeremy was already starting to feel warm. He took another sip, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them he saw Renee running her hand down Jean’s bare back. How many times had Jeremy wanted to do the same?

He shook his head. He was such a lightweight. He’d never been one to party hard but he knew how to hold his liquor. The last year he’d spent more time studying and less and less time drinking and his tolerance was down. Clearly.

Day 2

By the second night, Jeremy was starting to realize the Foxes weren’t so different from any other college sports team if you took away the tragic backstories. Yeah, Jeremy would stick out if they all sat around and compared histories but - surprise, surprise - there wasn’t much talk about that.

Allison banned any talk of Exy and if she ever saw Neil and Kevin together she’d cock a brow and put her hands on her hips. Kevin would flip her off and she’d leave with a, “Fuck you. There are rules for a reason.”

It was making him miss his own team - the way they all fit together even when they shouldn’t.

Jean was there, but if anything he was part of the Kevin/Thea/Jean Former Ravens group or the Kevin-Neil-Jean-I-Was-Abused-By-Riko-Moriyama-and-Marked-For-His-Perfect-Court group.

He was different from a year ago when he’d first joined the Trojans but he still had his rough edges and hangups. And Jeremy saw it all.

Whether someone tapped his arm lightly without warning, or when he was flinching awake from a nightmare, Jeremy was there, trying to think of a way to calm Jean down without overstepping.

Jeremy had promised Laila he’d enjoy his spring break and be involved in all the fun things the Foxes did. Jeremy didn’t break promises. That’s why it was two in the morning and he was just starting to work on a study guide problem he’d left at five AM yesterday morning.

He groaned. Shots before homework wasn’t working for him.

“Jer,” Jean said, voice hoarse. “Come to bed.”

In his sluggish alcohol influenced state of mind, he almost thought Jean was asking him to come to his bed. His face flushed as he thought, What if Jean could read my mind and saw that?

He cleared his throat. “Soon. I’ll go to bed soon. I just need to finish at least three problems first.” Who was he kidding? He’d be lucky if he finished one.

“Okay,” Jean breathed, turning over and promptly falling back to sleep.

That was something that had surprised Jeremy. The way Jean could just sleep. He had expected his distrust to keep him awake at night. He guessed when you were tortured and worked to the bone, you had to take the sleep where you could get it.

Jean looked so cozy and peaceful, Jeremy wanted to be cozy and peaceful. He made the mistake of putting his head down on the desk.

He bolted awake when tentative fingers touched his arm.

Day 3

Jean flinched and Jeremy took a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry.”

“The others are going for a hike,” Jean said quietly though he offered a smile. “Apparently there’s a waterfall. Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy responded, yawning and stretching. When he looked back at Jean, Jean quickly averted his eyes.

“They’re meeting by the pool.”

Jean hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Jeremy stretched as he stood. There was a crick in his neck that was making him regret last night’s choices.

He picked up a shirt off the floor and sniffed it. What did it matter? They were gonna get sweaty on their hike. He tried to shove away the thought of what would Jean think and changed into the shirt.

“Jer-bear!” Nicky greeted him as he stepped outside.

He squinted at the sun. It was only eight in the morning but it was already too hot. Jeremy couldn’t wait to get to the waterfall.

As they approached the start of the trail, two figures raced down the hill toward them. Thea pushed Kevin and Kevin shouted, “Hey!”

The two of them passed the sign indicating which way to go around roughly the same time and immediately Jean said, “Thea.”

“No one asked,” Kevin said, panting, but he didn’t look upset. “Besides, she cheated.”

“Prove it,” Thea said, hands behind her head as she gulped air. 

“Rematch.”

Nicky said, “Neil would beat you both.”

“With those little legs?” Thea looked skeptical.

“Show ‘em, Neil.”

Neil shook his head. “I don’t feel like it.” He paused and looked at Andrew. “I don’t run anymore.”

The way he said it gave the words weight and Jeremy felt like he was missing something. Neil and Andrew’s teammates groaned and Andrew looked unimpressed.

“That was really sweet, Neil,” Matt said.

Neil winked at Matt and Andrew muttered something that had him grinning widely.

“If we’re done with the cheesefest ...” Allison stomped past everyone.

The waterfall was breathtaking. Jeremy couldn’t believe something could be so untouched by man.

“What took you guys so long?” Thea called as she dunked Neil under the water.

Despite what he’d said about not running anymore, Neil couldn’t resist Thea’s challenge and they’d run ahead of the group with Kevin.

As some of the others dived in, Jeremy’s eyes searched for Jean. He was leaning down so Renee could rub some sunscreen on his face. Jeremy tried to stuff down the jealousy bubbling in his chest.

This wasn’t him. He didn’t get jealous. Certainly not of one the nicest humans to ever exist touching his teammate who clearly didn’t mind. He was about to turn away when Jean pulled his shirt over his head.

And how could he have such negative feelings when Jean was so obviously enjoying his spring break? After the first day, Jean didn’t even hesitate in stripping down and letting the others see him shirtless. As his roommate, of course Jeremy had seen him without a shirt, but it had been months before his first reaction wasn’t to cover up his scars. In the locker rooms, he always changed as quickly as possible and usually with his locker open.

Here, with people who had trauma, too, and who didn’t bat an eye when Jean took his shirt off, he was able to stop thinking about it. It made Jeremy sad that he wasn’t able to give Jean that around their team.

Jean turned around and Jeremy tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring. When he stood in front of him, he asked, “You okay, Jer?”

Jeremy swallowed once. He felt his cheeks get hot but hoped his sunburn hid his blush. “Yeah, just, um, enjoying the view.” He inwardly groaned. Jean had seen him staring at him. He scratched his cheek.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jean said. He clearly meant the trees and the water. Jeremy was both relieved and disappointed. “See you down there?”

“Yeah.”

Day 4

Jeremy put on his noise canceling headphones and opened his textbook. He had to get this reading done. He wouldn’t allow any more distractions until he finished.

Not even a sleepy looking Jean poking his head into their shared room.

He removed his headphones and gave him a questioning look.

“We’re putting on a movie. Wanna join?”

Jeremy sighed. “Can’t. I should have finished this chapter two days ago.” Jean bit his lip, then he closed the door. “What are you -?” He sat on the bed.

“I don’t really like movies that much.”

It was a lie. Jeremy knew it was a lie, but he wasn’t going to argue. He remembered the look of confusion on his face the first time he heard Jeremy ask what movie the rest of the team would like to watch. He gave Jean a small smile before putting his headphones back on.

An hour later, Jeremy was lying beside Jean, who was dozing, his head on an open book. His head lolled to the side and pressed into Jeremy’s arm.

Jeremy froze and tried to keep his breathing even.

His eyes followed the line of Jean’s jaw. He liked this side of Jean’s face best. It wasn’t tattooed and it had less scars. He still liked the other side of Jean’s face - he liked his whole face - it was just easier to not think about the circumstances that brought him to his team when he could only see the right half of Jean’s face.

Day 6

“No studying tonight!” Allison yelled.

“But -”

“Jean told us you study every night after we go to bed,” she said. “It’s your last night. Enjoy it!”

Jeremy shot a look over to Jean at the bar who - was smiling? He shrugged at Jeremy before tipping back a shot.

Allison had made a list and passed it around to anyone who wasn’t a freshman. Any time one of the freshmen said or did something on her list, the others had to do a shot.

From the looks of things, Nicky, Dan, and Matt had gotten an early start on the game. Allison whispered, “Don’t worry if you can’t remember who’s who. Just drink when the rest of us do.”

Jeremy looked around at the team, then into the pool with its night lights on and glowing balls floating on the surface.

Renee came over and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one drowns.”

When one of the freshmen girls made a pervy remark about Kevin, Nicky handed out shots. When one of the boys copped a feel off the girl and she pretended to be offended, he handed out two shots to every person. When a couple of the freshmen started making out, he got three shots - one for the act and two for the couple.

Things and time started to blur and Jeremy had no idea how much time had passed. They’d all eventually moved into the large house to get warm. Kevin and Thea had disappeared a while ago as had Aaron, Katelyn, and a few of the freshmen. Now Neil and Andrew were heading upstairs.

The music was loud, the lights looked brighter, and Jean was laughing. It almost made Jeremy smile, but then he realized he was laughing at something Renee had said. He wrapped an arm around her and leaned down so she could whisper something in his ear.

Jeremy left.

It was too difficult to watch and he didn’t want to say or do anything to embarrass himself. Allison grabbed his arm in the hallway and said, “You better not be going off to study!”

“No!” he shouted back. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Once he made it to his room and shut the door, it seemed uncomfortably quiet. He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

Jeremy was generally a positive person, but as he lay there, thoughts of Jean and Renee swirled around his mind. They said they weren’t dating. They said they’d never dated, but the whole week it was almost like they were a couple. They went everywhere together and partnered for every game.

He fell asleep, his mind seeped in jealousy and booze.

He woke up when Jean stumbled into the room, holding something in his hand. He vaguely registered music still pounding in the hallway.

“Hey, sorry,” Jean tried to whisper. “Everyone is asleep.”

“Okay?” Jeremy said.

“Renee made cookies.” He offered out his hand.

Jeremy might have sneered. “Of course she did. She’s amazing. She’s an amazing person. She’s an amazing goalie. I bet she’s an amazing girlfriend.” He was still drunk. It probably hadn’t been that long since he fell asleep.

Jean looked confused and timid. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jeremy muttered, suddenly aware of how he must’ve come across.

“Are you jealous of Renee?” he asked, lips quirking.

Jeremy sighed and fell back on his pillows. “What? No ...” He looked over at Jean. “Okay, fine.”

Jean stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at Jeremy. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, cheeks feeling hot.

“I’ve not been a good friend,” Jean said. “You’re just so friendly and easy going that I didn’t think you wanted me hanging around the whole week. And I figured Kevin would be taking up at least half your time.”

“That’s not - I mean -” Jeremy was at a loss for words.

“Then what is it?”

He threw an arm over his face, struggling to get a word out. 

“You guys are so close,” he finally said. “I guess I just want to be - close with you.”

“We’re roommates,” Jean said. “We are close. There’s no one I trust more.”

Jeremy sat up. “No, I’m gay.”

He shrugged. “Okay ... I figured -”

“I have these ... feelings ... for you ...” He knew his expression was pained and sad but he couldn’t help it. He had probably just ruined things between them.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Jean asked as Jeremy’s head lowered and he shrugged. “I think I have ... feelings for you, too.”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. “Really?”

Jean shrugged again, feeling self-conscious. “Yes. It’s why I’ve been hanging out with Renee so much this week - to get her advice about you.”

“I really want to kiss you,” he said in a rush. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

Jean held his breath, then nodded. Jeremy moved closer. Jean blurted, “I just - um, I need to set clear boundaries and I need you to respect them.”

“Of course,” Jeremy breathed. He watched as he bit his lip, looking like there was more he wanted to say. “Hey, it’s okay. You can set all the boundaries you need.”

Jean took a shaky breath. “I need you to take things slow,” he said, voice quiet. “I need you to be patient and not get mad if I can’t do - if I can’t -”

“Hey, Jean, you don’t need to do anything, alright?” Jeremy said. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” He reached out to take Jean’s hand but Jean flinched.

“I’m sorry, I -”

Jeremy held up his hand this time and slowly moved to grab Jean’s hand so he had time to move away if he wanted to.

“I’ve never - I don’t mean to flinch. It’s not you.” He lay down next to Jeremy and stared at the ceiling. Their arms were pressed together from their shoulders to their fingertips and after a minute, it started to feel comfortable. “I’ve talked about you in therapy because I wasn’t sure about what my feelings meant.”

He took long pauses between sentences but Jeremy didn’t dare to interject.

“Nothing that ever happened in my life ever was consensual.” Hard swallow. “Until you and the Trojans. I don’t know if I’m gay, honestly. I’m still figuring things out. Feeling anything confuses me. You’re the only person who offers something to me and lets me choose to accept it.”

“You noticed?” Jeremy was shocked.

“Of course I noticed. I was confused - at first - but it’s become everything to me. If this is too complicated I understand ... but I hope - I don’t know.” He sighed, frustrated with himself and everything leading up to this point that was making him unable to trust his own feelings.

Jeremy bit his lip. “I’m here. You’re worth the wait, Jean. I want to be the one you can figure things out with.”

Jean sat up. “What if - what if I’m wrong about this?” His voice was breathy and when Jeremy met his eyes, they were wet.

“Then we’ll stop and we’ll continue being friends.”

“I don’t even know if I can try.” Every fear seemed to be coming to the front of his mind. “What if I’m wasting your time?”

Jeremy sat up. “I don’t care. Can I hold your hand again?” Jean nodded. “If after everything, you decide you’re not gay, or you’re not into me, it will all be fine. I could never hold it against you. I care about you and nothing will ever stop me from caring about you.”

Jean’s gaze on his face was intense but Jeremy tried to keep an open expression. He meant what he said and he needed Jean to know that everything would be okay.

“Can I kiss you?”

Jeremy felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Please.”

Day 7

As they sat on the boat that would take them back to the mainland Jeremy couldn’t help the smile on his face. Jean was next to him, arm pressed right against his.

He looked behind him to where Neil and Andrew sat, space between them but hands linked on the seat. Andrew was looking off in the distance.

Jeremy opened his mouth to ask Neil a question when Andrew’s head snapped in his direction. “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“That smile on your face is making my hangover worse.”

Jean turned around. “Get used to it.”

1 Kevin/Thea 2 Neil/Andrew 3 Dan/Matt 4 Allison/Renee 5 Jean/Jeremy 6 Aaron/Katelyn 7 2 freshmen 8 2 freshmen 9 2 freshmen 10 Nicky

[honestlyhufflepuff]

Nesting and Resting

Jam Week Day 5: Home. Summary: Steven gets a little too into decorating Connie’s dorm. Word Count: 2203

Steven surveyed the dorm room, trying to figure out what it was missing. He was sitting on Connie’s loft bed, the highest vantage point of the space, trying to get a feel for the room’s flow. The first place his eyes were drawn to was the plush Papasan chair by the bay window- mostly because of who was in it. Connie lay curled up under a white faux fur throw, dust particles dancing around her in in the setting sun. The golden light illuminated the errant hairs of her thick ponytail to make a glowing crown. She looked like a small bird in a nest of wicker and cotton.

The chair took up far too much floor space in the modest room, but Steven insisted they could make it work by raising the bed to make room for her desk underneath it. He said he just wanted to be sure she felt comfortable.

Connie kicked out her legs, dangling them over the edge of the giant chair’s cushion, and looked up at Steven.

“It looks great,” she said with a tired smile, “We’ve done enough decorating for today. I don’t think it could feel any more like home.”

He sighed, tearing his gaze away from her to scan the room once more “I know, there’s just something I’m forgetting.”

She groaned and threw the blanket off her.

“I know you’re tired,” he cooed from his perch on her bed, “Take a nap. I’ll be quiet.”

“No, I’m hungry,” she popped out of the chair, “Let’s go check out the restaurants near campus! I saw a really good looking boba tea place on our way in.”

“I’m really not hungry yet, and I want to finish some stuff in here. Why don’t you grab some stuff from the kitchen, and we can go out to Boba afterwards?”

She sighed, looking like she wanted to say something about his decorating obsession, but thought better of bringing it up when she was getting hangry.

“Fine,” she said, “but we are getting boba afterwards. Promise?”

He nodded and reached out to squeeze her hand, “Promise.”

He sat still as she left, and he could hear the indistinct chatter she was having with one of her new suite mates.

The room was lush and bursting with stimuli that elicited comfort. Connie had kindly endured months of dorm inspo videos on TubeTube as Steven picked her brain for what she would like the most. A Pothos Ivy and a succulent of green pearls were cradled in macramé that hung from the ceiling by the window. The new plants looked so small and fragile in the pots at the nursery, but one kiss each from Steven sent streams of emerald growth almost down to the floor. He wished growth in humans was as easy as that.

The bay window was easily the best feature of the room and looked out on a courtyard filled with crisp fall leaves and bustling new freshman.  The sunlight filtering into the room was softened by gauzy white curtains, that faintly glowed with twinkle lights. Not many dorms were lucky to have so much natural light, but Gale was an old, uppity university with a certain standard of living expected by the students. Even with Connie’s mom being a doctor, they could not have afforded it easily had Connie not gotten a full ride scholarship. She was the Valedictorian of her high school, an ethnic minority, a classically trained violinist, and a woman going into STEM. Apparently, all those things meant she practically had colleges fighting over her, and she was a shrewd bargainer. Gale was her dream school, but she acted aloof until they offered her a single unit dorm, a bunch of sweet collegiate merch, and meal vouchers to try nearly every restaurant around campus at least twice.

No colleges were fighting over Steven. He sat on top of a blue and white striped comforter with the college’s regal crest emblazoned on it. Connie’s drawers and wardrobe were filled with blue, a way for Gale to mark her as theirs. Even Steven wore a blue hoodie from her with the school’s name stamped to his chest, but he was not theirs. He was hers. All this blue crowding him was from a new phase of her life, one that involved him being two states away.

Throughout the room, the blue warred with the pink- with remnants from the past. On top of the Gale comforter was a throw pillow made from one of Steven’s old pink t-shirts. The gold star in the middle was more faded than he remembered when contrasted next to all the vibrant, new, blue items around it, including the stuffed poodle that rested on top of it.

Steven thought a poodle was a stupid mascot, and carefully rearranged the pillows on the bed so that the star was more prominent.

He looked for other pink things in the room. Connie’s sword was mounted above her bed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice, although she would probably never need to. He ran his hand along the artfully crafted hilt, a surge of confusing nostalgia settling in his chest, and felt pained when his fingers came away with dust on them. Was it normal to miss a time of war when people were constantly trying to abduct or kill you?

A massive pink shag rug covered most of the hard wood floor. Connie loved it the moment she saw it in the store because it reminded her of Lion’s mane.

Steven climbed down the ladder at the foot of the bed and wiggled his toes in the rug’s fibers. He wandered around, brushing the tops of the items that composed Connie’s small, new home with his fingertips. There was the noisemaker he got her for when the old pipes and creaky floors in the colonial dorm building were too creepy at night. He turned it on and found the sound of the ocean, hoping that one was her favorite.

There was the bar cart in the corner stashed with tea, mugs, and snacks. There were the tiny potted succulents and air plants in corners where more energy flow was needed. There was a hanging stack of organization cubes filled with linens, cleaning supplies, and toiletries. Then there was her desk, under the bed. That was the part of the room she wouldn’t let Steven touch, as she was more particular about her study area than anywhere else. The entire upper half of the wall under the bed was covered in cork board, which was scattered with pictures from their childhood pressed in by little star thumb-tacs, and interspersed by Connie’s fanart drawings, photos with her family, and with friends from school. Next to the picture board was a dry erase calendar, blank and crisp before being filled with responsibilities. By her desk there was a short bookshelf filled with all the fantasy novels she gushed over with him as a child, as well as new titles that were too technical for him to understand.

He was looking at some old, silly pictures of them when his eyes were drawn to the desk. Amongst the lamp, the laptop, and the new textbooks already tabbed and highlighted before the semester started, there was a mug of writing utensils with a familiar bracelet looped around a portion of them.

He lifted the small loop of pink plastic, held it under the lamp, and cupped it to his face, shielding out the light to try and make it glow once again. He knew the glowing properties had left it long ago, but for some reason he felt compelled to try, just as Connie had felt compelled to keep it even when its designed purpose was over with.

Steven had been doing a lot of work on himself the past few years, trying to not constantly feel aimless or abandoned, but as tears began to well up in his eyes, he couldn’t help but think he was backsliding. It was normal, his therapist had said, to feel sad about his best friend leaving for college. Was crying over an old glow bracelet normal, though? Was it one step away from spiraling out of control again like what happened back when he would glow pink at the slightest exacerbation of his insecurities?

Just the thought of going back to that stage of his life sent a jolt of anxiety through him, and he clutched the bracelet to his chest as he plopped in Connie’s desk chair with his knees pulled up under his chin.

“Steven?” Connie stood in the doorway, two bowls of steaming ramen noodles in her hands and worry on her face.

He must have been quite a sight, he thought to himself, tearing up and huddled in the corner over an old glow bracelet with calming ocean noises playing.

“Hey, Connie!” He wiped his face quickly before he looked up at her, “You didn’t have to make me anything!”

“It’s the least I could do for you making my room look like it belongs on a Mumblr aesthetic blog or whatever.”

She placed the bowls on her bar cart and trailed her hand down Steven’s arm until she was grasping the hand that held the bracelet. He was sure she’d noticed the red and the wetness in his eyes, but she didn’t mention it.

“You said you wanted to finish stuff in here. What were you working on?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, “It’s perfect. I guess I was just looking for something wrong with it so I could have something to fix. Sorry- you know that’s a thing I do.”

“I know,” she said, and booped his nose, “but at least you’re aware you were doing it. Now eat your ramen.”

Steven obediently took his bowl and slurped up the warm, wavy noodles. “You sure you can feel like this place is home?”

“You mean a place away from you?”

He nodded.

“Well, I know the twin bed is a little small, but you could always sleep in the Papasan. Just live here and we won’t tell anyone.”

“What if your dorm police find out?”

“Again, Steven, they’re called Resident Assistants. And if they come by you could just shapeshift into a cute emotional support cat or something.”

“Nope!”

“What?”

“I don’t do cat shapeshifting. No way.”

Connie laughed and slurped up another noodle so fast it splashed broth in between her eyes. It was second nature for Steven to wipe it off with his thumb without either of them missing a beat in the conversation.

“Ok, so the place is a little cramped for you to live in my dorm, but you could always live here in Blue Haven. If you wanted to.”

“What? And just leave everything back in Beach City?”

“I understand if you don’t want to, but all the coolest things you’re doing in Beach City you could also do here.”

She hid her face in her bowl and came back up with her cheeks red as she looked at him again.

Steven did have a lot going for him, even if college might not be his thing. He had a successful vlogging TubeTube channel. It was an eclectic mix of space adventures with Lars, pranks with Amethyst, original music and covers from animes, reaction videos, cooking tutorials, and music tutorials. He had no idea how he got almost 9 million subscribers, but it was enough to support himself easily without his dad’s help.

He was giving music lessons, which was a rewarding way to help people.

He even made emergency calls to the hospital when Dr. Maheswaran needed a spit healing, but they’d found out the hard way he couldn’t overdo that, and it wasn’t exactly a board-approved practice.

He couldn’t think of any reason he couldn’t do those things in the same town as Connie. Being in such a culturally vibrant college town could be good for connecting with other content creators.

“Also,” piped up Connie again, “you’re a space prince with a magic Lion who could easily warp you back for a visit once a week- or more if you got the right treats for him.”

“That’s true,” Steven said, “Lion only shows up when he wants to, though.”

“Well, I guess if you really need to you can just take your car like the rest of us lowly humans.” She winked at him.

“Heh, yeah. So, do you want me to move here?”

“I want you-” she stood up with her empty bowl and bent down to kiss his forehead, “-to do what you want to do. We’ll make it work either way. I’m sure this place will feel like home after a while, when I make some friends and get to know the campus.”

“Maybe,” he smiled at the idea, and plopped the rest of his ramen into his mouth, savoring the salty flavor.

“There’s no time to decide now about moving now,” said Connie, “because there’s something more important we have to do.”

“Hmm?”

“Boba?” She raised one eyebrow at him.

“Boba,” he agreed.

They strode out of the dorm, leaving Connie’s sword, instead ready to take on the world armed with bubble tea.

[c-is-for-circinate]

It occurs to me that I promised y’all I’d tell you stories from the D&D campaign I’m running, and it’s now been a week since the first session, so I should definitely do some of that!  I can already tell it’s going to be a fun-as-shit campaign.  If nothing else, my party and I are collectively five variably-queer ladies who met at knitting group and range in age from “haven’t played D&D since 2e at GenCon in the 90′s” to “too young to remember fandom before AO3 existed”.  We’re real fucking cool.  I am going to have to explain, in detail, so many textiles and other interesting crafts.

I am a WORDY-ASS MOTHERFUCKER, so the whole tale will probably get pretty long in the telling, but: welcome to the continent of Nokomoris, on a world that probably has its own name but I haven’t decided on it yet because naming things is hard, dude.

[here’s where I will probably link game session posts in the future once they exist]

Hark, a backstory!  (And, our four players)

IF YOU RECOGNIZE THIS CAMPAIGN INFO BECAUSE YOU ARE PLAYING IT, CONSIDER YOURSELF UNDER DM ORDERS TO BACK OFF AND STOP READING.  I KNOW YOU FUCKERS ARE ON TUMBLR TOO, THERE IS A REASON I DIDN’T GIVE YOU MY HANDLE.  (I love you all very much and yes, there are spoilers in here.  Go away and text me now.)

Eastern Nokomoris, where our story takes place (or at least begins) is in a prosperous age of thriving city-states and collapsed kingdoms.  Most trade, culture, and even centralized government is based among the Nine Cities, massive metropolises located around the Attiks Sea and nearby lands.  Nearly a million people live in the nine cities, which are connected to each other via well-established sea and land trade routes, and also by what many are calling the most important technological/magical development of the modern age: a network of massive permanent teleportation circles, thirty feet in diameter.

The circle network is big enough to carry large trade wagons, livestock, huge parties of people, and even troops and war machines.  Sea and land trade has dropped by half between the Nine Cities in the past fifteen years, and continues to decline.  The cities themselves are thriving and prosperous, and it’s easier than ever to get beef and leather from Karna Vi, wool from Yefira, pottery from Celkan or metalwork from Tiers no matter where you live.

Outside of the cities, it’s another story.  Dozens of once-prosperous kingdoms, and even the whole of the Trava Empire, have fallen in the past seventy years: first during the Church Wars, and then in the yeas of chaos and rebuilding once the Wars were over.  Small towns everywhere that once paid taxes to a crown, and were protected in turn by royal troops and much-needed aid in times of hardship, have been left entirely to stand or fall on their own.  Some have thrived, becoming local centers of trade for whole coalitions of abandoned towns nearby.  Others have disappeared, died out, or simply faded into the wilderness, forgotten.  The great open plains of Highnorth where the Trava Empire once ruled, the endless golden sea of the Southgrass, the peaks and valleys of the Thavine Mountains, the deep many-colored forest of the Iris Peninsula--who knows what’s out there any more?

And in the Midlands, where the worst of the Church Wars took place...well, precious few towns even survived to rebuild in the first place.  Land that once held the most fertile farms in all Nokomoris is desolate now, scarred and cursed.  Most of the battlefield has been picked over by intrepid adventurers and out-of-work soldiers in the six decades since the Wars ended, already raided for magic and treasure.  The ruins remain, and the valleys where nothing will ever grow again, and the eternal shadow over the once-Holy City, and who knows what sorts of twisted things living in places people no longer go?

But it’s been sixty years since the Church Wars ended, and for most people, life is good.  Small-town farmers may no longer have the protection of any crown, but small technological advancements in plow design and crop rotation mean that they can produce more food than they need and sell the extra in the nearest city for coin.  More and more young people, freed from heavy labor on their parents’ farms, have learned reading, writing, history, and some amount of arcane talent.  The Grand Universities in the nine cities are thriving, full of scholars of all ages eager to learn and advance the course of knowledge everywhere.

Of course, there are ten times more scholars in the Grand Universities than there are professorships or other high-ranking positions to hire them to...and that is where our story begins.

.

Our intrepid party thus far includes:

Marion, a human paladin of indeterminate gender, whose human family stands among the nobles of the great city of Karna Vi, where our story begins.  Marion is an acolyte of the Church of Lost Things, which concerns itself with every god that does not easily fit within the purview of the other seven Churches, and also with every god that has been erased or forgotten by time (for all gods deserve worship, and all gods are capable of smiting those that neglect them, sooner or later).  They’re also a math major, largely because computer science hasn’t been invented yet.

Marion’s really hoping to be able to build and program a simple computing machine, a la Babbage’s Difference Engine (or Arthur C. Clarke’s The Nine Billion Names of God), to tabulate and generate all the possible names of every god ever to exist, which seems much more efficient than just combing piecemeal broken historical records trying to find them.  It has not been going well.  In a Church system where paladins are often more concerned with protecting people from the gods than for the gods, cracking this problem will let Marion figure out who the gods even are like nobody ever before.  But there are variables missing, and theomathematical constants they can’t even identify yet, let alone calculate--and they’re not going to find here.

Three interesting facts about Marion, as per their player: 

They once spent an entire week holed up in a lab over a holiday break and were declared missing-presumed-dead.  Police searches were involved.  It was a little bit of a scandal.

They are by far the most unremarkable and constantly forgotten member of their entire family.  (This perhaps says more about their family than about them.)

Everyone on campus is fairly sure they interfered with the campus clock tower specifically to give students more time on finals last semester.  This is false.  They were trying to run a different experiment entirely, messed with the clock tower by accident, and didn’t actually notice it was finals week even after it was over.

Kevin, an elf barbarian sportsball champion, hero of the university’s sportsball team for the past ten years straight.  Kevin is a foot and a half taller than any self-respecting elf ought to be, not to mention twice as broad.  He’s finally starting to acknowledge the fact that there is, in fact, no NFElf, and you can’t be a “professional sportsballer” within the Elven Ascendancy, and his bemused parents would really like him to do something with his life beyond playing those little games with the ball and all of those...non-elf people.

Kevin is also an art history student, mostly out of desire for an easy major that’ll make his parents happy while he happily spends most of his time out on the sportsball field.  He’s got high strength, basic middle intelligence, and negative wisdom.  He’s sat through more history classes than the entire rest of the party put together.  He understands approximately none of it.  Still--he can’t do sports forever, and art history makes his parents happy, and he might as well go on a quest to uncover lost art and artifacts and maybe prove he’s an actual adult sooner than later, right?

Three interesting facts about Kevin, as per his player:

Back in his home city playing little league sportsball, there were definite (and accurate) rumors about this wild elf that could and would straight-up squish opposing players.  That’s how the college recruiters found him in the first place.  It’s definitely why they wanted him.

He has so many groupies.  So many.  They come in so many different species and genders and Kevin is on board with every single one.  (On board?  On bed?  On convenient flat surface?  Does it particularly matter?  Not to Kevin!)

Kevin is covered in tattoos, and there are all sorts of rumors about what sort of eldritch magic they hold--like, that panther is probably a real panther bound by elven magic, right?  A pretty persistent rumor suggests that the tattoos all commemorate individual opposing team members he’s...either hospitalized or fucked, or both, literally nobody is sure.  (In point of fact, none of the above are true, and Kevin just has terrible taste in tattoos and a pretty stunning lack of both impulse control and supervision--but why quash the stories?)

Kou, a halfling bard whose girlfriend just left three weeks ago on a research expedition of her own, taking with her approximately 85% of Kou’s impulse control.  In theory, Kou is an alchemy major, studying science to make her scholar parents happy.  In practice, she probably spends more time sneaking into music seminars and/or busking on the street for spare change than actually doing alchemy, but her girlfriend was a Good Responsible Influence who made sure Kou didn’t get kicked out of the department, and to be fair, alchemy can blow things up sometimes so that’s always good.

Kou doesn’t so much have plans for the future as vague, contradictory aspirations, but that doesn’t mean she’s not smart.  She’s learned enough magic to use a set of recording stones to play, loop, and modulate beats or bits of music, thereby making her Nokomoris’s very first DJ, and she really wants to be a professional musician someday.  She just hasn’t figured out how to reconcile her dreams with her parents’ wishes, the lives they’ve worked so hard to create, or a halfling cultural legacy that has more to do with riding around snowfields covered in furs waving spears than it does with brightly-colored house parties.

Three interesting facts about Kou, as per her player:

Kou very definitely once spent a full day dressed up in halfling traditional garb, furs and all, including a very fuzzy fur hat.  It wasn’t until that evening that somebody saw the hat move and everyone realized she’d been wearing a curled-up live fox the whole time.

She once managed to create an incredibly destructive compound in alchemy lab out of ingredients that should not have actually been able to react that way.  She found out it was corrosive when she accidentally spilled it on six months’ worth of a different professor’s lab notes.  (She got an A anyway, because her lab professor hated the other guy, but that has more to do with Professors Ayanova and M’tiersi than Kou, really.)

She absolutely goes down to counter-protest every damn time those Family First assholes try to rally downtown in favor of child-producing (read: heterosexual, single-species) families.  Rumor says she once broke her guitar over a protester’s head, which horrifies her--Kou’s guitar is the most expensive thing she owns!  She used their own protest sign, like a sensible person.

Reigenleif, a mostly-female-probably gnome rogue known around campus as “Beer Run” for her skills at somehow always having access to better and cheaper beer than anyone else, and her general willingness to deliver to parties (for a small additional fee).  Reigenleif’s parents are small-time forgers who ended up mostly working for a local crime organization after a series of bad luck and political upheavals brought them to Karna Vi a few decades ago.  They really want their kids to go clean, avoid all the uncertainties and occasional jail sentences/executions that accompany a life of crime, and maybe make a little something of themselves.  Reigenleif, who has zero interest in staying on the right side of the law, mostly does odd jobs for a different, not-technically-rival criminal organization, and carefully does not tell her parents about it, ever.

Technically she’s an engineering major, and she’s more than got the brains for it, plus the accompanying curiosity about metallurgy and arcane artificing.  Still, she spends most of her time helpfully involving herself in other peoples’ projects rather than running her own.  (Her own projects have a lot more to do with figuring out new forging techniques and criminal tricks, and don’t look very good in the end-of-year department report.)  Enjoys causing trouble, not being in it.

Three interesting facts about Reigenleif, as per her player:

She absolutely owns a copy of the provost’s signet ring, which she can and has used to create documents allowing herself access to all sorts of University resources.  Like most things, she’ll share the use of it, quietly, for a price.  (She also owns a copy of Marion’s family signet ring, which is a much longer story that I as the DM do not know yet--can’t wait for that.)

Once captured and maneuvered a live swan into somebody’s office to cause as much chaos as possible so Reigenleif could get up to something somewhere else.  Is a little bit of a legend for it.

Aside from her not-actually-that-impressive family legacy of crime, Reigenleif’s spread a quiet rumor around school that she’s descended from the famous marauding pirate, Thrand Slender-Leg.  It’s possible that Thrand Slender-Leg never actually existed.  It’s possible that nobody had ever heard of him before Reigenleif made him up.  She’s certainly not telling.

[taendrils]

the heartbeat challenge | 1

― ❝things never work in your favour when you run out of fucks to give, and right when you do heaven seems to throw the seed of evil right into your arms, or more precisely on the corridor to your college dorm. you swore an oath to hate the XY population, blood and pinkies and everything- but namjoon, the shy brunet helping you with your sister’s wedding has always been a man of science- and he seems to love testing just how much he can make you tick.❞

• pairing: namjoon/female reader  • genre: fluff, comedy, a college rom-com, semi-wedding planner a.u • warnings: slow burn, swearing, mentions of sexism and unhealthy dynamics in literature • wordcount: 16k words

a/n: this fic contains satire interpretation of a ‘man-hating’ oc. oh and a very cute namjoon. also this is my longest fic/series thing up to date. cheers and let’s enjoy.

“And a toast to the young couple!”

The people sprawled across the joined tables cheered, the sound of champagne glasses clinking and the sound of friends laughing in delight pleasant to your ears. Few things in life could beat the sensation of hearing nothing but sounds of happiness around, and you took it all in–letting your head fall back and closing your eyes, barely keeping yourself from raising your arms in the air. Between the winter midterms and the inter-semestrial break filled with nothing but volunteer work where you’d encounter children screaming on schedule and coming home to find your love interest–a.k.a the latest lesson chapters all spread out on the kitchen table–at last, you could say that you felt relaxed. One moment ready for the history books where this sort of happiness surrounded you, and one you deserved for sure.

Maybe you deserved it because the earrings you had been wearing for the past five hours insisted on pulling your entire earlobe off or at least fight for their custody, and some part of your knee still stung as a reminder to never rush with blades on your legs again. Especially at eight in the morning when a hyper Yuna who resembled the children you interacted with more than enough swayed into your room like a fairy of adult representatives–clipboard in hand and face lacking any concern. She resembled her corporate supervisors down to the hem of her tailored coat, ready to check every item that met the standards from her list and glare at anything else that didn’t. For her, it sounded like the perfect plan.

For you? Not so much.

She started out with your room, sending daggers to the dust on your nightstand before shifting her eyes to you. Or what was supposed to be you, hidden between three pairs of pants and a nest of messy hair, suitcase left open in the carpet’s middle and the rest of the clothes thrown out at random. A fallen soldier with hopes as high as the sky, but nowhere near ready to get struck with by the chains of femininity and requirement to socialize.

You know, like she didn’t tell you about her engagement party a whopping two days ago, as you were in combat to recover the countless days of sleep that you lost this semester in like, eight hours.

At first, living a quarter of your life with sleep deprivation, you thought you were imagining things, or you made unintentional contact with the spirit world in your attempts at meditation and regaining the self you lost as the years of education progressed. But no, here she was, diamond sparkling in artificial light like a laser pointed towards a jail sentence, focused on you. You didn’t dare to open your eyes, fear tap dancing as it travelled in slow motions across your spine at the chance that said light could hit you right in the pupil.

Spineless as you were, you allowed her to drag you along to whatever beauty rituals were going on in the household, passing a tray of cookies that you could blame on Minho’s choices for sure. Maybe the date too, with his impatience and competitive streak coming together to create the best party in the shortest time. To be honest, you had no idea about any of their whereabouts.  And hours later, between passive-aggressive calls, Hyoyeon arguing with staff as she watched last night’s MMA match, and a bright-eyed Minho swatching tissues to figure out the best colour coordination, you found yourself at a much bigger location, with everything that you dreaded next to you.

Namely, men.

Sure, you enjoyed making people happy and an enjoying an easygoing atmosphere; you were a firm believer (or someone who strived to be) in a life without worries, and thus every moment spent smiling brought you a hair closer to your goal. But men were... well. You’d leave that for them to explain.

Now, confronting the statement, people might think that you suffered from an attention-starving syndrome. Did you? Perhaps. The possibility was out there, far away, like your toleration for the male sex, but a self-grasp told you that your hate did not arise out of being ignored. Not that you were Miss Popularity ever or had friends more than you could count on your toes all high school. One could say, you did well enough to float in the middle of the spectrum–you were not demonized for not appealing to them, but neither did you get a confession or even guys from your parallel classes sliding into your Facebook messages using the classic ‘sup’. Oh, the tragedy of missing so much in life.

In fact, if you take time to think about it, that’s been your signature in most of your endeavours. Existing in the middle of any crowd. From a family standpoint, you weren’t able to shine like your sisters–Yuna being a signed model, recognised for her kindness and charming personality and Hyoyeon resembling the movie-version of a female badass–a no-nonsense boxing trainer. Each of them challenged the norms in their own way, subverting femininity or straight up refusing to conform to it and then... there was you.

That Feminist. Loud and a little annoying. Struggling with both.

The fact that they had settled and formed their own lives and routines while you skated on dry land through college didn’t help either. When you hung out with them, the reminder made you cower a little, fold yourself back into the shell you developed in your younger years from the lack of stability you experienced. You heard a lot about their boyfriends too– fiance and boyfriend, and from what you collected Minho seemed nice enough for a model, not to mention Hyoyeon’s doctor boyfriend, and you learnt to put up with them. Somehow.

However, you weren’t familiar with the faces to your right at the linear table, making it impossible to prevent having your mouth glued shut the entire time the photographer told each of you to smile and blinding you with the lights. Because here was the thing.

You had a blank face. A resting bitch face, like some said, or a woman not smiling face, as you liked to call it. You wanted to express your excitement, you really did, but the thought that your sister would soon be trapped close to forever in a relationship that could only be broken off if she gave her car, or worse–her TV screen held onto the corners of your mouth just like those damn earrings. Hence why, instead of expressing unfiltered joy over Yuna’s engagement, this time official, ring and fancy place rented, you looked like the personification of a rocking chair. Giving occasional nods as if you absorbed all information regarding next week’s weather.

Shame on them for dolling you up like this, hair parted, pretty braids tight on your scalp and orange dress making you look like a fairy. A fairy protecting the pumpkins and other agricultural crops, puffy sleeves moving like waves with your every movement and pleated fabric brushing over smooth thighs. Thighs you gave your blood, sweat and tears to.

Did you deserve to sit next to a man, all beautiful like this? What wrong have you done?

Since you were a child, you gained knowledge about the prices one had to pay to achieve happiness, and to restore the balance, with the peaceful music in the background and smiles in harmony to match it to your left, red wine you had been eyeing all evening on the other side, came the existence of the man. A tall gentleman with hair gel that spread to his brain, and whose arms were too big to stay by his sides, hence why he was taking up all the space on the table and separating you from your one true love. What was left to do, you pouted, interact with him and get into a potential discussion of how you can correct flabby arms, or risk your joints by stretching all across the table so you’d snatch the other one?

Not in the mood for a gym discussion in a trying time, you got up and used the remaining flexibility skills you had to bend across three welcoming faces. The liquid was so close now, its proximity tempting you and charming you into a trance. You wanted to experience this intimate moment, and to assure no one would pay attention to it– having you adverting your eyes to the table parallel to yours... making contact with your greatest enemies.

Your sister, with Minho and his mother who lit up at the sight of you. “Here she is, our youngest!”

She was a nice woman, short perm smoothing over the ends of her cheekbones. A figure that stood up to her son’s forearm, gentle and caring. As a general rule, you loved being in her presence, but you were already sensing the wrinkles forming as your eyes almost screwed shut with how hard you tried to raise the corners of your mouth. Not like you minded one bit, only one part of you wishing to avoid witnessing the impending disaster of interacting with her at social events.

Getting back into a normal position, you let your hand drop off the bottle, fingers longing for the coldness and bowed right as she averted her gaze to the chair you had been sitting on, then to the unknown guest. “And this must be your date?”

Your eyes widened, reaching to touch her only to have your hands freeze midway. “Oh, no, no way–I don’t have a date.”

“How come? Look at you, you’ve filled out so well,” she smiled as she squeezed the extra weight on your hips. To admit, the praise added a few points to your self-esteem meter, but it was no match to the aggravation you experienced in her presence because she had to ask about the other set of chromosomes at each meeting. It was part of the old lady gossip: asking about graduation, when you will get a job, oh and also if you’re not married by twenty-two when are you picking up a man so they can open another question folder. The one branded with a guaranteed approval stamp, none other than ‘when will you have grandkids’.

Insistent question marks to follow it soon after despite you not being related.

“I came to celebrate these two. I’m not looking for one right now,” you said, hoping your tone sounded polite in the least bit. Being accustomed to old ladies, who made up in curiosity for all they lost in height was a full-time job you never stopped learning from.

“Are you staying celibate? Waiting to save yourself for ‘the one’?” she inquired further. Here we go.

“Yeah, course she is.” Minho puffed, letting out a laugh. “For the One Lord Jesus Christ, you mean.”

“Amen. I will find my way, I’m sure,” you took a step back, attempting to return to your chair.“This family needed a cat lady anyway. You guys will be beautiful at 35 and all that, and I’ll be having my wrinkles illuminated by the laptop screen.”

“Coding?” Yuna supplied.

You took it as one of the instances to use your fake smile.“That’s plan A. If it fails, I’ll resort to the worse: write fanfiction in various locations.” Plan B was always ‘Embarrass yourself to the point they don’t talk to you out of their own will’. And get money.

“Oh, come on–”

“I could be in your basement and you won’t know it because Arnold Augustine the Third keeps wailing from the milk temperature.” you leaned your head forward, mimicking the way you sat while you typed on the keyboard, “Clickety clickety clickety clack, clickety clickety clack clack.”

“There is no way I would name our kid that.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, tell your fiance here who made me create an Instagram page to ‘keep the name’.”

His mother stood there with a tight-lipped mouth, the kind of expression others had when you weren’t close enough for them to get the joke, giving back the same forced politeness you gave a minute ago.“I can always introduce you to somebody, child.”

Minho tapped the beautiful girl four seats from you, whispering to her as she passed him the wine, and sometimes you envied him and Yuna for being so in-sync because the next second she was holding out a glass to you as he poured away the bottle’s contents. The drink matched the shade of her velvet floor-length gown, you noted, and if you thought you resembled a fairy of autumn, she was the season’s goddess.

“She’s enjoying herself enough, trust me,” her fiancé added as she passed you the glass. “I think we should check on uncle as well, don’t you love?”

Releasing a breath you’ve been holding for the entire meeting, you sat down, finally pouring the entire glass in your throat in one go, pose relaxing soon after. However, something bothered you–the feeling from this morning still lingered on your legs, little droplets of blood making your knee itch until you found a chair corner to relieve the sensation. Your knee moved farther, knocking into something solid. More accurate description provided, knocked into a muscled thigh fighting to rip out of a blue suit.

“Don’t have a date, huh?” the man grinned as he rubbed his leg against yours. Interpreting your gesture as romantic, movie flirting? Oh God. “Youngho, I’m a bodybuilder.”

A tab opened in your head to search for the profession: male thot job #1.

“Oh no, no no. No, thank you. I am here for the wine,” you explained, “I have a boyfriend.”

Yes, the wine. And the side piece was mango chicken.

“A lady shouldn’t drink so much. It’s not good for you,” he gave you a gentle smile, and you laced yours with the gentlest of ironies as you replied.

“A gentleman shouldn’t give unsolicited advice to strangers.”

He turned back to his plate, and you added another face to the history of guys who disappointed you on the first meeting, struggling to make space on your brain’s list.

Starting with your first crush, a basketball player who acted so nice with you and even pretended to know half the math you did to get close to you and work together. The joy was he seemed quicker to make fun of you for your moustache to his friends whenever they questioned your closeness. Second one, same field but a smaller ball to throw around, as sweet as they come, got bored with your dynamic when he met another girl who liked trap and Rammstein. The third one didn’t even know you existed–not that you were doing much to attract his attention either as you spent half your time staring at his hands and vintage shoes.

Then you considered the what ifs. If you wracked your brain enough, you could still remember the second date you went to at seventeen, eyes holding onto the remaining flicker of hope. Immersed into the memory, you recalled the way your pompadour partner, beer in hand, gave a detailed explanation not of your beauty, but of how much he hated communism and ‘feminazis’. After that, you lost count of the large-shouldered figures passing your life and focused your curiosity on said feminazis. Cool girls that, like you, realized long ago how the key to feminism didn’t have to do with hating men but happened to support the cause.

Attention syndromes aside, you didn’t lack ‘experience’ either. Didn’t even know what people considered experience. You kissed a lot of boys in truth or dares when you were fourteen (and man did you think you were doing something). Also, you were good at faking interest for dares when all you wanted to do was kiss them. Who would have thought you’d end up with a profound dread for the male sex? A good portion of the population who interacted with guys over sixteen, it clicked to you. After your discovery, you wished you could form a society made up of girls that were unfortunate enough to be attracted to those they hated. Yes, we exist, you wanted to say.

A capital flaw that turned you off beyond belief (not that they ever turned you on in the fun way beyond your bedroom and in the outside world) was their lack of dependability, besides opening their mouth. Your high school best friend, Yoongi, you remembered him as one of the most kind-hearted people that you knew. You could have almost said him alone showing this much humanity had been enough to clean the stains of his gender’s reputation, and yet. There’d always been that one little detail that proved to you that Yoongi was indeed a man.

Case in point: the one time in senior year in which you needed a photocopy for your album that required you to search half a town for. It went well, except for the fact that between seven bus stations you still weren’t sure whether they had the machine for it. And Yoongi being a few steps away from the store couldn’t bother to ask about it on the premise of ‘being sick’. Also, who could forget your high school sweetheart, Jungkook, your athlete deskmate who called a lovesick you for the first time during a presentation to ask you whether you’d join his clan in Dragon City.

Spoiler: they didn’t do photocopies there. But at least you contributed to the pay of bus drivers as you succumbed to breeding dragons ready for war.

The realisation came in at a much later time. Although the crushes came and fleeted and you had a greater chance than others at being smitten from the first three conversations with anyone, there was a territory you hadn’t adventured into. No longer did you bother to explain the heavier reasons, the tear-jerkers and mood ruiners. At the time you’d choose to go with the simple alternative.

You had never cared for a man, and you never planned to.

The standards raised. You became mature; you hated men. And nothing could have convinced you otherwise.

At least the free booze on table five distracted you from it.

So, about The Feminist.

The roots of this reputations had been foreign to you since you didn’t talk to many people outside of your dorm or classes. Even while volunteering, you kept it with the three friends you went there with, not making an effort to be social more than that. On the occasion, you’d act out to pull the laughs out of your friends and didn’t bother to scan the people watching, therefore it became a mystery to you how your first impression switched between a clown and the aluminium tinfoil hat.

You had your fair shares of conversations with frat boys in your freshman year when you were a small bundle of hate. Even then, as you expressed your opinions they twisted your words, mocked you as you kept to politeness while conversing. ‘I thought you didn’t like men’, they’d say with a smug face, carrying on with expressions which made you sneer. From the other side, your tinfoil sons and daughters, you heard about your supposed plans to go to Law School only to get into the government and implement liberalism and laws to limit their rights.

Well, they had the spirit but messed it up at the end. Not wrong but not true either. Sounded like another back-up plan in case it went wrong with computers. You ended up being a famous case in the ethics classes you took before you decided on coding, all gritted teeth and ready to eat guys who substituted a personality with monotonous voices and wearing glasses. Despite the events which to this day made you more reluctant to express yourself, you still frequented some classes related to the humanities field: you remained in gender studies and literature.

One of which you were currently sitting in, on the edge for the last hour due to today’s theme of discussing novels of experience. Ten minutes left and your wings would be free, with no hint of annoyance or anger for the entire day. An achievement uncommon for a lesson requiring creativity and freedom of belief, which you loved expressing but avoided hearing.

Creativity had its perks and downsides. One of them was that everyone was allowed to manifest it in one way or another, which left space for questionable fiction not only to be created but to be discussed and theorized over in academic circles. Such example you didn’t want to experience again had been the latest reading assignment, one of the choices for today’s topic. Most of your classmates who chose to present had ventured into other choices, letting you live and catering to your neurons. Until you heard the incantation.

“Based on a definitory experience in 1929, the book which puts to light the tragic heroine bearing the same name explores the idea of retrospection, of relieving a love whose absence leaves the individual…”

Leaves them blessed that they didn’t read such bullshit. You rolled your eyes, remembering the read you got through during winter break, the slowest 120 pages of your life. A tint of sadness seeped through the anger building in your loins, threatening to overflow. The rest of the emotions you learned in high school psychology came to you in their order. Starting with the disgust you felt at the author’s description of the young girl which were both infantilizing and barbaric, marking her bright presence and sense of spirituality as below him. The little fucking intellectual who sat and beat his dick to how he was the sole individual on Earth capable of self-reflection.

In the beginning, the first state to follow had been surprise. Surprise that no one thought to leave that man in a ditch after a drunk night and use his manuscript as toilet paper. With your eyes closing the night you read, in its steps happiness followed, now that it was over and you could go sleep and never check it again.

Lastly, fear. You understood and if you had to name a positive about the story would be the accurate portrayal of subjectivity, of how one would misinterpret based on their thought process and obsession with another person. Fiction had the qualms of exploring said concepts but to you, the way people related and discussed them based on reality’s moral system mattered most. You feared that people would take this toxic relationship and call it a love story and you feared the backlash following your disagreement.

“The subjective perspective of the events makes the impossible love even more painful for the protagonist as he is forced to separate from the young girl, ‘woman and child’, who ends up succumbing to his infatuation and wishes to give herself completely to him with the symbols of spirituality around them bearing as witnesses. A powerful interior conflict can be observed…”

The impossible love. Romeo and Juliet were shaking in their boots at the love of an unempathetic protagonist and a girl too young to know what love meant. You’d think the asshole had an interior conflict since he was stepping over any moral compass known to man.

“…, this way, an authentic and vulnerable experience is captured by the author. It is a story of irremediability, of a consuming love which young people aspire to experience and live for.”

Breathe through your nose, lips pursed to even out your inhales. Once again, the mere mention affected you more than it should’ve, and your mouth won the race over your self-control.

“I disagree.” You didn’t wait for the professor to call your name. Not anymore.“It makes no sense to brand the book as a love story or something a teenager should strive for because of the male character’s actions and his view of her throughout the story. A novel of experience? Certainly. The subjectivity and the protagonists’ reflective notes throughout the narrations guarantee it.”

“Well–” your classmate cut in, but you gave no sign of stopping.

“But she is described as ugly and barbaric, below him despite her high education and extensive poetry knowledge and changed from virgin to whore as she gives into him. These thoughts do not disappear even after he ‘falls in love’ and starts to feel whole next to her because of his supposed superiority. This is not a tragedy, separating them was mandatory to protect her.”

You let your head drop, pursing your lips as you waited for the counter argument. At the silence,  the professor took to watching you, pondering over the answer.“I think you should reflect on the mentality of the 30s. During that time, it could’ve been considered as such.”

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t stop the slight tremor of your tone and the voice that raised another octave. “Are we still living in the 30s? Why are we perpetuating the same mentality, why are we letting it slip with this excuse?”

The professor’s gaze alternated between you and the clock pointing towards the end of the class, “We should leave this discussion for the next time.”

The whispers increased. From behind you, a girl spoke. “Here she goes again with this extreme stuff. I swear, I’m a feminist too but she is exaggerating.”

You were familiar with the type. The one to laugh at your jokes and watch with undivided attention whenever you wanted to lighten up the mood by making a fool of yourself. Several times you heard them laugh at jokes made at the expense of women, several times you were shut down when you stood against it, the moment you call it out you get called a sensitive extremist.

And it wasn’t always bad since men’s voices were an echo chamber to you or radio noise at best, yet the women. The pressure put on women like you by other women suffocated you, settling over your windpipe no matter what you replied. Those were the most frequent case when it came to the rising of your doubts. Chest heavy, you chose not to retaliate, storming out as soon as you collected your things, hoping that time alone would help you solve the issue within yourself.

“Hey, wait–” you snapped your head to the sound, wild eyes contrasting the touch of calamity in his. “I–”

The guy got out of class, hurrying after you. Even a buffoon would see the correlation.“Has the professor said anything?”

He paused in his tracks, taken off guard by the question. “No, that's not it. I wanted to tell you–”

Emotions weren’t your best feature, and you had a few arguments with them here and there. They would threaten you, you’d fight back, they’d reach for cat videos or a thing you did ten years ago and you’d shut up. And isolate.

Which was what you were planning to do right now, if not for Beanie Boy over there testing–wait. You’re sure you’ve seen this guy outside of literature.

“You're in my gender studies class, aren't you?” you pushed, remembering the denim jacket and beanie from a row in front of you, a classic colour combination. Besides that, who could forget the impression he left from the first day, starting off his speech with: I'm tired of his story, It's time I listen to hers. Girls cooing, an unusual image present in your lectures and a few giggling over the shy gestures following. That you remembered.

The tangled letters of his name stayed foreign to you, more concerned with paying attention and learning, and so did his motif to look for you. From what you gathered, he was a unique individual, popular for his Instagram outfit shots and scenery captures. An apparent style whose amalgam of characteristics you didn't recall seeing in recent lectures.

You tilted your head, hand falling to your hip. “Do you want the notes, is that it?”

His mouth gaped, dimples growing to see the light. “Oh, thank you for offering–”

“Then it’s settled. Come to the dorms on Floor One by Thursday, I’ll be there then,” you said with the solemnity and suspicion of a drug dealer, quick to turn around and walk away. More than ever at this hour needed the space to calm your nerves and collect yourself enough so you could pay attention to the next classes.

Still, were you so cheap now that you’d hand out your notes to anyone now to get rid of them? Information is the way to life, and yet you traded it just to get away from it.

Classic.

Five days later fate found you in yet another tricky situation. For as long as you’d live in the campus dorms, you were to never experience peace or any tranquillity. Be it you were cursed or stamped with bad luck at birth, the fact had been internalized long ago, along with your animosity for the object you have lost once again. There was no other way. You pressed the door’s handle, tempted to give up and bang your head against it so you had a way out of this situation.

At least you weren’t completely hopeless.

Once pulled out of said thoughts, you felt around for the phone in your jeans, battling with the sleeves of your fur coat to retrieve it so you could dial Yujin, “Hey, any chance you’re around? I lost the key again and I can’t face Mrs. Choi for the third time this month. Can you please go instead of me?”

Past desires loomed over you once again as you registered your roommate’s words: she didn’t think you’d be home this early, so she locked the door till she returned from the library. Your schedule followed: meet up with your girlfriends and revise the material for next week’s finals as you ranted on the side, but you didn’t have access to it. Duh.

A possibility that not everything is out to get you manifested as you heard steps on the hallway, and you took it as your saving grace… until you checked who it was. A perfect candidate for directing your frustrations to. The Man of the Hour. The most recent addition to your database, who said nothing about the missing material. You were friends on Facebook, for fuck’s sake, did he not care enough to ask for your room number? Did he have other resources to access your personal information, you questioned, frantic in your thoughts which made you turn around, determined to find the answers.

You marched up to him, cutting off his chances at avoidance. “You!”

He pointed to himself, mouth agape.

“You made me wait for so long, and you didn’t show up,” you chastised, wincing a little at how your neck cracked when you stared up at him. “I even organised my papers for you.”  

A hand came up to scratch at his own.“Uhh, I appreciate it… but I-I’m not here for that.”

“So, guess it’s for another time? How long will this take?”

Your patience was running thin more with each meeting, though you remained careful in front of the man. Given your current moods and schedule, you didn’t have the chance to rage about education- and a part of you didn’t want to either. The more you saw him, the more you took your time to observe him, along with his gestures, both of which made you reconsider your opinion of him. Such as no matter how tall and imposing he was, he never looked you in the eye.

Not to mention how you were locked outside your room so you stood no chance to even touch said cellulose, thus you had close to no right to be angry.

“I... This is my room. I moved to 113 at the beginning of the semester.” His gaze once again, drifted elsewhere, studying the hall and reverted back to your shoulders, to the soft curve of your jaw.

“Did I not see you before? Ever?”Were you that absent and disconnected from your surroundings?

“Well, uh… you must’ve seen a lot of these.” He bent to touch the ground before getting on his tiptoes to raise his arm as high as he could, and an image of huge beige coats and white sneakers popped into your mind. The assumptions you made led you to the face your roommate told you about, Kim Seokjin, a pure aphrodisiac senior from art history. You mistook Beanie Boy for him, you thought, coming back at the right time to watch the former grin bashfully at his joke. He surely caught you smiling, for he continues his newfound rambling. “Yeah, Hoseok says he won’t get down in the club with Vincent Van Gogh, so I switched on the coats. Sorry for confusing you.”

“So that’s what he’s been doing instead of practising at 5 AM,” you said, shivering as you remembered the way his steps brought more complaints in your sophomore year than the last generation combined. “You get used to the sound after a while. It worked wonders during exam season, I didn’t fall asleep one night.”

“It’s the same thing, he just has more audience now.”

You chuckled, police sirens going off in your head at the realisation that you were enjoying this, a little too much. With suspicion creeping up behind you and a sense of urgency to cleanse yourself through group conversation, the need to end the conversation throbbed in your veins. “Well, thanks for that. See you!”

You felt bad for leaving like that, but a complaint appointment and anxiety generated from the possibility that he will ask you to bring them now were already keeping you locked towards your destination: the lounge.

“I heard there was an emergency,” you sat down on the couch as you bid hello to the group of girls, books, notes and flashcards scattered on the table and their laps. You recognised them as the girls from your floor, a few doors away from you, with whom you spent a good majority of your time at the beginning of freshman year before drifting apart, each focused on your own majors and forming groups there. Besides Sojung, your close friend you plopped next to, you’d see them on occasion and spend your time with them pretending to study and trying out nearby cafes.

“Yes, we ran here as soon as we heard about your struggle,” she said, expression serious as she petted your head. Not long after, her grin grew in time with yours diminishing, satisfied at how she stole your joke out in the open like this. Despite your opposite attitudes, Sojung’s deadpan humour was never far from your dramatic one and many times she was quick to outwit you. She already knew about the events at the party, having them narrated in an incoherent string of texts, followed by the conclusion that you were in need of pleasant company.

“You mean girl,” you pouted, “and to think I came all the way here to support you.”

The girl rolled her eyes, going back to her study material, forehead crease a little too obvious, and you welcomed the challenge to make her laugh.

“These exams shouldn’t exist. They’re stressing you out too much,” you complained, wishing you could do more when the light bulb flickered in your head. “I’ll change my major. I’ll get my diploma in being a wall so I can protect every girl from these assholes. See what they do then.” Catching a glimpse of the corners of her mouth rising, you pondered the occupation: not a bad idea at all if you considered it.

“This is hell. Don’t you have things to revise too, girl?” Seungyeon, the criminology major and girl you wish you could be, said. Serious yet sociable, a go-getter with elevated thoughts said at the right time, she was as close to a college model you had.

“It’s a few brackets and logic commands. Not a lot to grasp. Either it works, or it doesn’t.” If you had lived in a world of your own wishful thinking and didn’t stress out over these two months in advance, yes. Studying and trying out the material at midnight became incorporated into your routine, allowing yourself a two-day break every week. In spite of it, you were glad you didn’t have to memorize entire textbooks and that your field allowed for skill practice, adding the literature classes you partook in to exercise your creativity and widen your perspectives.

“Plus, I’m here to listen to any of you who needs help, since my girl here has other plans,” you said, tone honey-like as you encouraged your proposal. You were aware at that not many of them were bold enough to ask for help first due to fear of inconveniencing others, making you cautious in approaching the subject and with enough luck catching some friends. You didn’t know Seungyeon that well on a personal level, but you were striving towards having more people as ambitious as her, what was a little sugar coating? And as expected, she grinned at you, getting up to hand you her portfolio, all written in cursive black ink.

“Can you quiz me on these terms?” You nodded, brows furrowing at the thesaurus language.

Close to thirty minutes later, coat discarded and your head spinning from the new information, your hand froze on the foiled page as your phone started buzzing in your back pocket.“Pits of hell, main demon speaking.”

“Please stop doing this whenever you’re answering me in public.”

“There’s a price to pay if you’re making me participate in a phone call.” you smiled, delighted by Yuna’s whiny tone, already picturing her desperate eye roll. “No, it’s ok. Keep going.”

“I talked to the receptionist and he said they can rent us the place March 30th. Some TV broadcast will host a reality series there from the fifth onward.”

Blood drained from your face.“T-that’s. In two months,” you stammered, shoulders already slumped at different heights from the stress building and slapping each bone at varying times. “Why not April first so you can say psych? Please…”

“Minho thought it’d be funny too. He has a spring collection in Portugal on the third.”

“What kind of thing is he modelling on your wedding week? Lord.”

“Tuxes.”

“Forget I asked,” you said through your teeth as your nails dug into the cover of Sojung’s manual, threatening to fold the piece and rip its remains. “And you want me to do what? Mhm… A few errands, right, close family wedding. Thank fuck for that at least. Sure, I don’t have anything else. Yes, I’m serious. Love you. Ok bye.”

Shifting your eyes to the group, you stared each of them in their pupil with solemnity as your body slumped on the couch till it met the criteria of a shapeless blob. “I’m doomed,” a sigh left your lips as your hand travelled to meet Sojung’s, craving physical affection in this time of need. Might as well get it from a pretty girl. “Here’s my end, cheers. Please raise a drink in my memory next time you go out.”

The girl cooed at your dramatics and squeezed your hand, reaching to caress your cheek and pull your head to her shoulder. She was not the one with words, but she never minded offering you physical comfort to remind of her support. Your eyes closed by themselves, wishing to drape yourself over her long legs and hide your face in her neck, a place where no responsibility could haunt you as you were hidden by her styled hair and comforting arms. In your crisis, you thanked heaven for women’s existence and for your luck to be surrounded by so many of them before you continued.

“She wants me to help with the wedding and I-I don’t know anything about this shit. I’m not good at the whole aesthetic thing.”

And a little part of your heart broke, the truth of your statement ringing in your ears. Although you learnt how to be confident in your abilities as you grew out of teenage years, you still had more to go through until you were comfortable with the unknown. Enthusiastic willingness existed, but it wasn’t always enough, and it hurt to be aware of it once again, having your stomach throb from the fear of disappointing or ruining things with your input.

“But you have style,” the girl added. “I love those tennis skirts you wear.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know about colour coordination, or materials, hell I don’t even know what a chiffon is...”

“Then why offer to do this?”

“Cause she’s busy you know,” you peeked at the biology book in her lap (the one you threatened to snap mere moments ago), thinking about how great it would be to exist as a paramecium.“She has a career and all while I’m here considering majoring in being a wall. And I don’t want her to carry such a burden alone.”

“You have time to learn. And if not, I know someone who can help with that. Namjoon is amazing with these things. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

A part of your brain lit up in recognition, but you ignored it, not bothering to look-  too busy wallowing in your misery to be bothered with chats.

Sojung moved, making your head snap off her shoulder and have you grasp your surroundings–to be specific, their new addition to it: Beanie Boy from Gender Studies, sat on the folding chair with a stack of books in his lap. “Namjoon, you’re here, I have to ask–”

Time ticked as gears turned into your brain, throwing the information in every angle until you processed it. You nodded, mouth agape, thinking what you should put inside a conditional command to make this situation look better, hopeful as you were. It ended up something like this:

if (disasterhappens) { pleasedont(); }

Squeezed between the timeline of a Data Structures course and the unforgiving cold, you stepped out of the bus the same pace as Namjoon, whose name you picked after your last encounter. In your classroom, he’d often remain quiet, thus your conscience didn’t feel too bad about making an excuse for your pea-sized memory. Faces were easy to memorize, but God forbid, hold on to a name and your brain threatened explosion. This time, true to his word, he ditched the coat, going for a padded jacket.

It worried you the slightest, as it had him open to the attacks of the weather, but you kept it to yourself.

“What are we doing?”

“They got most of the stuff done, so I don’t have to bother with calligraphers and shit to send out invitations or find photographers, we picked the dress three months ago... it should be easy.” You flicked open the cover of your pocketbook, proud of the doodles you managed between the tasks. “I have to rent the tablecloths, organise the seating positions, order the flowers, argue with the guy at the venue, other useless stuff, then- oh! Get the cake- that’s her taking pity on me for sure.”

“Do you have any specifics? If not, we can work something out. I know what women like.”

You squinted in suspicion, tone rich with all the certainty you had the ability to muster. “I bet you do.“

His eyes widened, “No, I didn’t mean it like that-”

Keeping your mouth shut for the first time in your life, you stood to realise he was helping you; he didn’t look like he signed the petition to buy you a tinfoil hat. By law, you were obliged to restrain the second nature which leaned towards hostility- for men. The notion made you sigh, wishing for a way to tell him it was fine without it becoming weird or turning into a race for apologising. “Either way, I have no escape. Might as well drag someone to hell with me.”

Namjoon said nothing, stirring and adding salt to the soup of guilt you were harbouring for the last minute which boiled in your gut and threatened to overflow.

“Schedule comes as planned: be back at the station by 4 to take the 4:03 bus. That’s a 15-minute ride till we get to Yuna’s house where we’ll drop these, and from there it’s a 30-minute walk to the building.” With that, you sprung into action.

“You got this figured out, huh?” his voice rang with a tint of impress you picked up on.

Your lips pursed to suppress a smile as your pace slowed, “I mean, of course I do.” It was little before you changed your mind, thoughts running wild between your responsibilities and morals because of them battling out. The whirlwind made you move with more speed, your words almost matching the fastness of your legs.

“Thanks for coming with me and stuff. This will be a piece of cake, but still.” you shrugged, a little awkward to be running errands with a guy at 3:15 PM like one of those middle-aged couples. Hence why you resorted to Conversation 101, mastering it in time to deal with such an unfamiliar situation. Truth be told, your wished for a method to express your gratefulness now that he doubled it by he was accompanying you in the time between classes, a holy period marked by relaxation– not picking out from thirty shades of silk red.

However, by itself, the ‘thanks’ had remained stuck in your throat, in need of an extra push to make it sound nonchalant instead of a word of relief which decreased the anxiety blood levels.

He didn’t seem to mind. Namjoon walked behind you without struggle due to your bulldozer walk, eyes fixed on his steps and hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I’m happy to help.” You turned your head to look back at him, a pursed smile lingering on your features making you repeat the action every five seconds. Turn, stare, square up with your facial muscles.

“You must really want those notes, huh? Is the class that important?” you joked as the two of you approached the store, hand reaching out to open the door with Namjoon trailing close.

“Well, I-” Namjoon paused, startled when your feet came to a halt at the doorstep, body spinning to make eye contact with him. The grip you had on the door handle twitched as you watched him come closer and closer, releasing right as he was about to step inside. In a perfect impersonation of an ostrich, his head pulled back as the door closed in seeming slow motion, reminding you of how much of a bad fanfiction your life was every time you went outside.

His widened eyes bordering on mania met yours through the glass, breaths living him as if he was trying to deflate and disappear from you as soon as possible. You gasped and bowed your head, moving to open the door, tugging it towards you with no result before his hand enveloped the handle, yanking it open. The force sent you aiming towards the pavement before strong fingers gripped your forearm and pulled you straight.

Straight into him.

Your mouth gaped, arms flying out to his biceps to push him away from you and save yourself out of this situation–that’s what you were planning. Instead, you froze, fingers still gripping the muscles because, despite the accident, you were touching him. A man.

The best part was that Namjoon seemed as frozen as you felt, his gaze busy tracing every feature, never leaving your face. Your heartbeat became more erratic by the second as embarrassment crept upon your cheeks, but you were not the bitch without prior experience to trainwrecks like this- after all, you made codes. Thus, you laughed and tightened your grip, slowly shaking him before the pace increased. “We have to be very precise! Do you understand me? This is for a far greater cause, we need to pay attention to every shade and detail, point blank-”

“Period. I wouldn’t have been here if I didn’t know,” the words come out gentle as he tilts his head, fingers trailing forward to pet your shoulder before distancing himself. He gave a curt nod, signalling for you to move, and if this was any other time you would’ve protested, you took it as an opening to flee.

“Yes, of course,” you mutter as you walk through the variety of fabrics. Yeet. The notes app on your phone came in handy now, as you had an excuse to focus on anything but him. Most of the instructions were clear, silk fabric, ask for the rented option because buying requires to iron them and none of you knew how to use a household object like that, stick to the theme and pick-

“Apple red?” you said out loud to the cloned shelves adorning the entire store, each inclined in a different way for aesthetic purposes, or to make your life difficult. “She’s so pretentious. What even is that, they all look like fucking red.”

“Couldn’t a professional do this?” Namjoon inquires from beside you, scrutinizing the interior design before settling on a banner painted on the wall. “Live laugh love. Very suburban.”

“Dunno, maybe this way they thought they could get away with spending less money. Not like they’re lacking any, goddamn family-oriented capitalists.” you rambled, being used to inserting dramatic lines in your speech with your girlfriends. Nevertheless, this territory had boundaries on pending left to be established. From your knowledge, guys weren’t used to interacting with language innovationists, so you had to sweeten the deal a little to avoid feelings of inferiority. “They could’ve counted on me finding a hero since men and all are sooo good with details.”

You sighed. Way to go, sarcasm.

Namjoon only chuckled, continuing to study the store’s organisation system. “I’ll go look for what we need, and we’ll get back in 10 minutes to compare. Hope that’s okay.” He dashed by you, your brows furrowing before realising it was time to roll, stomping away to browse through foldings.

After forgoing the opportunity to give up halfway, you returned to him with six different shades, raising each hand to present it to him, starting with the first option at hand, a deeper shade of red.“I think I found it. How’s this?”

Namjoon licked his lips.“Uh, well, it looks a little-”

“A little what? It’s red.” you pointed with your head as if it was obvious before lifting the others up. “All of these are red.”

“That is wine red,” he explained as he scratched the back of his neck. “We should pay more attention to details if we want to do a good job.”

Your left eye twitched. Namjoon had been kind to you (human standards, not male ones) in the time you spent together. Guaranteed, his timing was off during most of your meetings and in objective standards, he did nothing wrong, but your conscience didn’t enjoy subtle reprimanding. In fact, she felt threatened, ready to have you bring out the big guns. You had some logic and attention to detail too in any state of tiredness; it was a matter of whether it wanted to be exercised.

Despite your lack of knowledge in colour theory,  blamed on your monochromatic wardrobe, at first sight, it looked like apple to you! Yet, determination rose in your chest and now the world shed new light upon your sight- you would pick the best goddamn apple colour in this store.

He did nothing wrong. Still, you weren’t at fault either because your competitiveness flared over the most useless reasons.

“Huh, seems like I’ve been eating the wrong apples.” You wanted to drop the fabric onto the floor for dramatic effect, yet your common sense stopped you, too worried about the workers that would have to clean up after the two of you. “How about this one?”

“That’s burgundy.”

“How do you even know those?”

“My mother has that hair colour… Every lady over forty in our neighbourhood uses that.” Chin tucked, he looked down at his pile to avoid your gaze. “I think this is more accurate.”

You inspected the piece with the attention of a fine painter, ready to create your own Starry Night with tablecloths and future flowers.

“Looks like candy. That apple’s full of chemicals. Yuna only likes organic, farm stuff,” you chirped out of pure pettiness, and Namjoon must have sensed it, because his pose turned frigid, glare with raised eyebrows aimed like an arrow towards you. “I’m sure this one is right-”

“That’s crimson,” his voice interjected. “There’s no way this is good for a wedding unless we’re talking the Red one.”

Both of your tones grew sassier and the man you sassed at the end of your course morphed into a reflection of yourself. Nice but ready to cut if you’d open your mouth in the next three seconds. Bad for both of your sakes, you had no qualms about passing whatever limit because you were the tear in the system–for fuck’s sake, you made the system. “Lucky for me, I have no idea what that is. I don’t watch hipster shows.”

Let out a sound similar to a laugh meant to be suppressed yet it escaped anyway. “That’s the farthest thing possible from hipster.”

“Fine, I’m not supposed to care about those anyway.”

A passive-aggressive smile. “Yes, we should go back to our task and try to solve the problem.”

Another one. “There’s no problem, I’ll look for more and then we’ll go on our way.”

“Of course,” Padded boy retaliated before sitting in front of another shelf. “This?”

“It’s blinding my eyes. It’s not gonna match. She also wants freesias, let’s just find something similar,” you said as you dug through the packages on the bottom shelves. “Ha, how about this?”

“It... “ He tilted his head, letting out a deep exhale, “it looks good.”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” You clutched the fabric to your chest, ecstatic to leave colour combination to the experts and never return again.

With crossed arms and hostility radiating off him, Namjoon, the image of attention to detail, looked as if he was about to launch into a rant about nihilism and why shit like this shouldn’t matter at your smallest gesture. You mastered the same fixed stare, as your friends told you several times and you focused on the floral details at the empty cashier’s spot, scared of what might happen if each of you directed it towards the other.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Both your heads snapped to a man in overalls, flower crown resting on top of his head and grin beaming on his features- until he saw the both of you glaring at him, “Oh. I apologise for the delay.”

You broke out of your trance, gesturing at the packaged cloth. “We’d like to rent uh… ten of these.”

The man returned with your fulfilled request and you hurried to get a hold after swiping on Minho’s smiley-face covered credit card. You gave an awkward smile which you hoped he saw before switching to Namjoon, who was a bit difficult to interact with due to the messy way you were holding the items.

“I’ll hold them myself. Help me out with the door,” you muttered from under the mountain of fabric, feeling a little self-conscious of being this authoritative in a fabrics store.“If you want to.”

“It won’t move. Hold on.” From outside, he clutched the handle and pulled it back with his entire body, leaning half-suspended in the air. His leg, like a whip from God, stretched out over the pavement in pointé position to reach the other door and fight to push it as you squeezed through the minimal space.

Ignoring Namjoon still stretched out trying to open doors for you, you checked your hand watch, the image making you gasp.“Oh no! It’s 4:10 p.m.” You turned to him, eyes wild and devoid of any humanity as he got into standing position at last.

“We had to be at the bus station at 4! The next bus is in 6 minutes and it’s going to take us 15 minutes to get there and I can’t afford a taxi.” You sprinted with the most speed, but after an entire fifteen seconds on the clock your feet planted on the ground, hands on your knees and throat constricting as you struggled for air.

“Why do I never do cardio I-” you panted to no one in particular as Namjoon’s figure passed you, increasing the distance with controlled steps. “Oh fuck. Hold on. Wait!”

Your body did its best to maintain your equilibrium as you chased after him, tablecloths in hand.“How on Earth are you moving this fast-”

With a gaze at his wit’s end, he waited till you advanced to him before snatching the packed items from you and digging through his back pocket to get his wallet out. “Hold this and pay,” he said as he intertwined his arm with yours, hitting the acceleration button full force without warning, “There’s no time for little legs.”

Once again, your heart joined the marathon.“Hey–wait! Wait, I didn’t plan a sprint in this, my hair’s going to be ruined!” The wind’s presence smacked you at once too, even air attacking as you tried and failed to keep up with his pace. Thus, all left to do was whine about it. “Move slower! My hair, I–I can’t let people know I’m ugly–hey!”

“Spill.”

“Quite interesting that you assumed I’d have anything to complain about when I never did it in my life.”

Sojung quirked her eyebrow, pausing her scrolling to turn her head and judge you properly, to which you pursed your lips- fighting hard to not burst into laughter and blow your cover.

With the aid of a motivational discourse about the balance between studying and having fun (the most you can have in said weather), you managed to bribe her into watching a movie as long as you made the sweet tea and let her pick. A problematic duo, Sojung and these choices, since she had a torturing streak going against your brain cells, but you followed her rules, ready to rumble by immersing yourself into whatever character you deemed the dumbest. Now, warm cup in hand, there you stood, squeezed to her side due to the bed’s size, looking like her disciple, or at least a very starry-eyed novice.

How else were you supposed to be, as you were cuddling with an objective image of temptation under the blankets, bare feet ducking under hers to steal her warmth? A woman who radiated daintiness without effort, the tips of her hair still wavy from Saturday’s party enough to create the aura of an Aphrodite of Science who pulled you in, who charmed you into wanting to feed her grapes and braid her hair.

“You haven’t talked about it in days. I’m worried,” she stated as if you broke our friendship code by avoiding the wedding topic, which you thought you were doing a pretty good job on. Yesterday you even stuck to the manners code while convincing the photographer not to reschedule, reminding him with the required politeness of who he was dealing with. Your sister didn’t like to flaunt her status and neither did you with yours (whether you had one was arguable), yet you never minded reminding people who she was in case she got too humble.“You’re not like that.”

“Fine, don't look at me like this- there’s a reason why I should’ve said no. I made a fool out of myself.” your friend nodded, giving you the gesture for ‘go-ahead, confess your sins’. “So we got to the store, I walked first right, cause you know how I move, and I opened the door and you know I’m not an animal so I wanted to hold the door open for him but-”

“But he’s a man.”

“Yeah and I can’t-” you closed your mouth, opting for indecipherable gestures with your free hand, “fraternize with the enemy, for lack of a better word. And I almost hit him with the door.”

With a temporary interest, you watched as the beginning credits for whatever movie Sojung picked. This way you could postpone the pain a little. Deep breaths.

“I didn't know how he is with these things, I- we argued a lot. Over tablecloths.”

“Of course. Like me and Mino when we had to do that project together. The cells we had to analyze looked like cones to me but he insisted they're joints.”

You laughed, a full sound that came with you shaking your head, “The bar is on the fucking ground, God.”

“Mhm, but I'm sure Namjoon wasn't like that. He's very immaculate and detail-oriented with his work, not thinking about joints,” she emphasised on the last words. “He’s an alright guy. A little passive-aggressive sometimes but he'll get over it.”

“Yeah, he’s-” you sputtered, an adequate definition of Namjoon still foreign to you. Good would raise suspicions, not bad would have Sojung urge you into detailing. “Bearable.”

She gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. “Right. And his Insta shots are cute. You should follow him.”

You sighed, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone and obey her request. After a search lasting less than a few minutes, you caught sight of familiar fashion popping into your recommended. You clicked on the profile, pictures of animals and outfits for the day welcoming you, his trademark coats fitting perfect with his long legs.

Compared to the rest of his feed, his fifth picture was a close-up one, with him sitting on the ground, a deer on each of his side. At the display taken from a Disney picturesque, there it was: guilt drowning you again, this time sour edition. Why were you like this.

Granted, despite your differences and mutual pettiness, he tried to be patient for as long as he could-bless his heart- while you started out colder and less optimistic than usual and let your attitude get the best of you. Grumpiness was not a trait of yours, it was by chance you let it take the wheel again as you pressed the follow button. Bold of you to think he’d notice with his 1.3k mark, coming from the girl with 70 followers and three pics of you smiling.

Cuddled up to your friend, you settled on forgoing this matter, focusing on the movie and hoping the guilt soup would simmer down. Later swearing as your insides turned to mush, you buried your head in the pillow, groaning as you re-imagined the scene with the male lead trespassing for the girl- risking fines for plucking the rose and jumping back the same gate with no effort. A hundred other similar scene to this one came back to you, and yet your reaction was impossible to control- half-way between an eye roll and batting your eyelashes, brain alternating between commands. Old, young, there were reasons cliches were cliches, and the public's feelings were what made them popular from the start.

This love was the exact movie love which would never be possible in real life, where the oh-so-young hero gave roses and heart attacks to an innocent girl having no prior experience with motorcycles. Thus, you didn’t bother to fight against indulging a little in whatever trope the movie was displaying. It mixed the leather jacket and typical bad boy vehicles with a retro type of romance.

“Why do you always insist on this kind of movies?” you asked, pleading with your girl to cease these activities but also hinting to her you wouldn't mind another one. Especially for this week, a time where love and capitalism went one on one. Valentine’s day was a sensitive topic for you, anti-capitalist and all, but you were aware of the loneliness some friends of your experienced. Hence why ever since you were a freshman, you bought envelopes and red paper, brought your trusted heart stapler and got to work. You had close to no criteria for your choices: close friends, people you had pleasant interactions with, girls under stressful situations. Random people on hallways who made you smile and later got a letter with a lollipop and your attempts at a cursive: ‘Someone’s thinking of you! Please buy chocolate on sale this year!’

“Wanted to get us in the mood.” She winked at you as her hand found yours under the blanket, laptop propped on her legs, “It’s fun seeing you squirm.”

“Come on, men in real life are not like that. There’s not one dude out there who will be this attentive to you, and if he does he's gonna get you in debt. You'll have to bail him out of jail.”

Sojung shrugged, yellow turtleneck brushing adorably against her chin. You didn’t know what offended you more: her silence or how cute she looked without even trying - making it impossible to stay fake-mad at her.

“My judgement’s been rotten, but if I said one fair thing in this world is that one.” An accusing finger was pointed at her, “You should agree. I haven’t seen you talk to any of the guys in your classes outside of school.”

Sojung took one long glance at you, taking her time to answer. “I guess I’m too busy right now.”

Your brows furrowed, “Yeah… college’s a bitch. But this time it’s doing you something good, right?”

“Eh. Another one?” she asked, seconds away from your definite yes.

After two more hours of cringing and containing your cooing, you remembered today’s goals: find Namjoon and consult him about the next weeks’ schedules, establish a proper plan. Of minimal interaction, if possible- in which both of you secured efficiency and less trivial arguing. You shook your head, finding the thought’s beginning ridiculous- going to his room, seeing him to tell him you didn’t want to see him.

Wasn’t a complete truth either.

Sense of responsibility and need for order aside, this was a bad idea. You didn’t check in with him, part hesitation part not having his number and being too awkward to write to him on Facebook (you were friends, you checked). Yet, you stood at his door, fist hanging in the air.

Three raps, a deep breath to calm your nerves- what nerves? Why would you experience that? You could do this. You knocked on doors before, thank God.

With newfound confidence, you smacked said door with all you had, positive that Namjoon would hear and you’d have no way out of it then. Bag on your shoulder, you fiddled with the letter hidden behind your back, hoping the glue dried enough not to move the heart from its middle. Earlier today, as you were bracing yourself for your mission, you saw Hoseok heading for practice. It eased you a bit, doing this in front of Namjoon alone.

The door opened and your mouth curled to the sound of it rattling from its hinges, “Hi, are you busy?”

Namjoon, in all of his bear pyjamas and bedhead glory, eyes round and wide stared at you with uncertainty. “I’m… not doing much. You can come in.”

“Were you sleeping? Sorry I didn’t say anything, I don’t have your number and-”

“No, no, we can solve that. I-” he paused, seeming to struggle, “That’s how I sit when I don’t study or go outside.”

Following after him, you watched as he sat back on his bed, same lotus position and brought his legs closer together to make space for you. Soon, he must have realized his mistake, tips of his ears turning red as his gaze moved back to you. “I mean! You can sit in Hobi’s bed. I’ll-” He rolled out of his bed, crouching next to his roommate’s bed so he was next to you, “yeah.”

“I don’t want to take away too much of your time-”

“I don’t mind.” He licked his lips, head dropping down, “Well, not that much. Please continue.”

You bent to show him what you’ve been working on- a logical scheme to ensure productivity without spending too long on a destination, tying together similar events. One which you ended up doodling on for illustration, marking the points where you might have trouble later and the way to approach them. “This is the battle plan. Minimum effort, maximum fun. I fucking hope.”

“Cute,” Namjoon said, a close-mouthed smile on, and you were right in the radius to get a glimpse at the true depth of his dimple. Oh. You pouted, mouth opening and closing as you tried to form a coherent thought at his words. You were not cute. “I mean the sketch.” 

Chest deflated, you pursed your lips at the geometric owl you drew, not pausing to catch the amused glint in his eyes or how his grin was growing. “Ok, first destination. So I searched for Google reviews, right, and the guy at the venue is a total asshole.”

“What’s the plan then?”

You breathed out, “I was… I was hoping that you can help with this one. I, err, struggle with being diplomatic around guys.”

He nodded, signature dimple popping out again.“Sometimes.”

Your mouth gaped in mock offense before you caught his gaze again. You cursed under your breath, looking down at your chest in indignation then switching to his desk chair. It resembled the one in the lounge to the point it was suspicious–making you squint at the offensive object, recalling the image of Namjoon last sat on when he was pulled into this mess.

“…And I’d appreciate you giving me some tips maybe, on how to deal with the guy. I’m desperate.” The option of going there and listing everything you and your family wanted without a compromise was tempting, but there were several warning bells pointing towards the opposite result.

“To begin, don’t judge his colour combination outfits.” He chuckled, lifting your mood a little. “Be assertive, but don’t make him feel out of control. Bring your demands in as suggestions.”

“Look intimidating but polite,” he said softly. “You already have half the part down.”

You puffed, “I breathed.”

“Doesn’t matter if the situation seems bad, don’t bend down to whatever he may tell.” He extended his palm towards you, and you gave him the sheet. “You think he stands a chance against these?”

“I was planning on that, but-” But it was difficult for you to do these without becoming snappy, without attempting to have the fucker trip with the power of your glare. Your voice died down in your throat as you stared at the bullet point tasks again.

Check in, talk about catering options and suggest food for their catering team to serve, confirm the guest list and the number of hours spent. Return a month later to assign the seats and assist the decoration process in case there was any need for changes. All that came as an obstacle was the man. The little devil impersonator you head so much about on hidden google reviews.

If you lost your cool it meant sabotaging one of the most important tasks of the entire scheme, which would guarantee a disaster in case you messed up. Here you were, with a possibility of rivalling Cinderella and getting expensive shoes stuck on stairs, only you’d lose the entire place instead of the shoe. It wasn’t like you could hold a wedding under your local drawbridge either-why did Yuna leave this on you? Why not pick Hyoyeon or Minho? Was this the time for you to develop a diplomatic streak?

Namjoon interrupted your impending existential crisis, “I’m free this weekend.”

Using the rational side of your brain, you submitted to his request, crossing off your earlier decisions. No interaction my ass, you thought. “Fine. I’ll pick you up on Sunday.”

As he meant to return your plan, you got up. “Actually, that is for you. And also this.” You pulled out the blue envelope, heart left intact to seal it.

“Oh?”

A rush of panic hit your gut from how he was looking at you, expecting you to go on. Did he want you to spell it out? God, no, you–“…found it at the door.”

As he got a hold of it, he let out a fake gasp; yet you weren’t so sure about the excitement which came across real, urging you to check the letter again for things you might have missed.

“Woah, it's right in the middle! Very sharp with the details,” the man tilted his head, not giving you any time to breathe. Like he was testing your reaction.

You tried to keep any tint of emotions at bay despite your body naturally adopting a more confident pose at the praise.“Mhm, agreed.”

“This is very thoughtful. I should thank the person when I see them. Even though it came four days earlier,” he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah-”

“Must have messed up the date.”

“Hey!” You paused, mouth closing shut. “Who cares? They made an effort.”

“You’re right, I’ll make sure to let them know.” He nodded with solemnity. “Was that it?” he asked and ended up mimicking your previous gesture, not meaning to come out like that.

“Uh, I have to go anyways.” You laughed to try and mask how startled you were. “I’ll… see you in a few days. Have a good one?”

I’ll try, he wanted to say, but instead he nodded, following you to the exit.

After you found the most bizarre way to ask for his number again, he meant to return to studying, thoughts of his appearance forgotten now that you left. He didn’t do much else since he woke up, neither he could say he expected anything to happen today, and he was long accommodated to the sturdiness of his chair to be bothered by sitting there for hours.

Settling on his usual space, he placed the papers you gave him under his stationery, focusing to remember the line he remained at. Though, it was no easy task, the little heart and doodles pulling on his attention and disregarding his work ethic. Damn them.

Before he registered his actions, Namjoon grabbed the papers again, taking in every piece of information laid on the battle notes he started out with. One thing that stood out to him was the contrast between your big personality, which appeared effortless to him, and your writing. He sort of expected messier handwriting taking up space on the sheet, similar to the way you acted each day.

Meeting you didn’t happen often, but he was neither blind nor deaf, he heard the degree of familiarity you used in speech even with teachers, had seen you in passing comforting people from the same dorm. He felt like a witness to some of your antics by the vividness Sojung described them with, complaining that kids at the volunteering centre would spend more time with you, attacking you with kisses to as you screeched and swore revenge.

Your writing was smaller and much more organized, taking up half the A5 paper you gave him. He didn’t know why he was even thinking about this, or why he felt like he found something new about you through it. Next came the letter, which contained a heart-shaped lollipop and a note attached to it, this time written in cursive but bearing the same letter size.

He chuckled as he read. Chocolate on sale. Ha, he bought that February second.

Some of the regrets for your experience together washed away as he spent more time re-reading, an impulse having him reach towards his stationery and take the scissors, cutting your schedule plan in half. You, in particular, were not the main cause for said emotions, he knew that much. Often he had a hard time telling people no, wishing to help as much as he could even if it came at his expense and a disappointed look from his friends who pleaded with him to listen, to stop caring so much about other people’s situations and turn his attention to him. Be selfish, take a break, practice self-care or whatever he wanted to call it, they told him. Look at you for once.

He still struggled with that. This time, like many others, his conscience was telling him he’s doing the right thing, but there was a slight change. Something pleasant stirring up in his loins, a level of contentment with his decision to accept. He could at last witness you rip that fucker to shreds.

The anatomy book was still open, but for the time being, he had no motivation to continue studying. He wanted to prevent losing your indications too, so he put the paper inside the book before closing it, only image available being the freesia you drew next to the first circle. No more information for now, he thought. After all, he could research plenty in his surroundings for the current chapter.

The cardiovascular system.

Based on your poor approximations, it had been more than a week since your last encounter with Namjoon, and a part of you wanted to scream because you had kept a lot of secrets in during this time. There was no date from when you began classifying your life as before and after Namjoon, but as the timeline stretched out you started talking to him more and more. To the point where you’d have inner monologues about it and whether you were doing the right thing, like the case in point.

You forgot about yourself on several occasions, swimming in special mathematics and the burden of college life which nearly drowned your optimism alongside that of your friends’. Yet, to your surprise, at least twice a day you’d find a lifeboat to lean onto which came in a package with a hose to swallow the water. Weird metaphors aside, in other words, you and Namjoon started texting a few days after he gave you his number and you managed to deliver the notes. And not just one phrase here and there, but multiple messages that had you debating food choices, new courses and the density of your literature teacher.

It turned into a habit, checking your notifications between classes because of him. Those close to you knew you preferred real-life communication to texting and made efforts to hang out as much as possible, so your phone hardly buzzed most of the time.

With the exception of him, of course. You discovered hidden opinions with the help of your flair for complaining and progressed on the stages of your friendship enough to be comfortable with the idea of him helping you. Well, calling it a friendship could’ve been a stretch, but development is development. Difficulties still arose in the eye contact department, but you discovered he opens up far more when he didn’t have to face you. Were you scary like that? He even followed you back on Instagram before liking all of your pictures, it mustn’t be the case.

Though, you couldn’t be the one to talk, because you ended up seeing him in passing once and got an existential crisis from waving at him, unsure whether you were at the stage for it or not yet. Ready to duck into a bush and never speak again, your eyes widened as you spotted him waving back and smiling, pointing at you to whoever he was with. Even bigger was the shock coming from him walking towards you and striking a conversation, asking you about your studies and the week you had. He was the same as always, shy grin on and ears listening with diligence as you fumbled for words and gaped like a fish at his interest in your well-being.

It was hard to hate him. There, you said it. Hard to despise a person of his type when all he did was-

Ping!

Driven by habit alone, you wet your lips as you unlocked your phone, thankful for the distraction of the thoughts causing you to be distracted in the first place.

[beanie boy] 8:50 a.m: you know, if that photographer keeps being an asshole, i got this friend that can replace him real quick [beanie boy] 8:50 a.m: his style is a little more middle-aged art teacher than mine, so it might be hard to accept him but he’s great [beanie boy] 8:51 a.m: promise?

The corner of your mouth curled, recalling the recent discussions of the guy throwing a fit because Yuna wanted a shot near the lake outside of the ceremonies, followed by one at the central park and how she went on to pay his fuel to shut him up. You didn’t even realise the lecture was close to finishing, and from what you heard, Thursdays around this time they’d let him go a few minutes early. According to calculations, he must’ve been texting you right as he got out of class.

[you] 8:52 a.m: you have ties in the photographer industry? [you] 8:52 a.m: is tht why you know so much colour theory…,, Damn

Where did he have ties though, it occurred to you. What was his major? During the time you spent talking, you felt like you knew a lot of trivial information about Namjoon that most of his classmates didn’t, but the origins of his passions stayed foreign to you. The notes app in your head updated with the urge to find out about it.

[beanie boy] 8:54 a.m: i held his light in the art museum as he was developing pics. We bonded then

You furrowed your brows, thoughts that Namjoon might have more titles around the campus except for the one you gave him foreign to your conscience. To this photography guy, he was light Boy, who helped him through hard times- was it his thing? Help random people, make them feel special and then never meet with them again?

[beanie boy] 8:54 a.m: his art is also weirdly motivational. Idk what it is about dog paws and noses that moves me to tears but it’s very helpful when i have a hard time [beanie boy] 8:55 a.m: are we on for today?

[you] 8:58 a.m: yes i hope so

He told you he didn’t have plans for the upcoming week starting today, and the venue devil reserved your discussion for the same days. Still, a part of you grew anxious from his lack of reply and agreement as you moved to the next class. Scurrying for your phone, you began typing again.

[you] 9:09 a.m: i mean, it’s ok if we don't Do it now. [you] 9:10 a.m: there’s still time. Idc

You put your trust in one man and look what happened. He hated you. He wanted to ditch you-

[beanie boy] 9:14 a.m: what? yes i want us to go today [beanie boy] 9:15 a.m: for the record, i ignored a ppt presentation to answer this [beanie boy] 9:15 a.m: and ouch, that’s cold. you really hurt me this time. [beanie boy is typing…]

[beanie boy] 9:19 a.m: maybe you can make it up to me with some tea later?

Your breath hitched as you read the notification on your phone. Too dangerous out there to open it.

[beanie boy] 9:19 a.m: heard it’s good for the soul

Yeah, the fucking soul alright. Glad he was preoccupied with his as he was toying with yours. Half pettiness half need to pay attention to your surroundings, you put your phone back in your pocket, ready to concentrate on your lecture.

Immersed in the new information and ways to solve presented to you, you forgot about your feelings regarding the matter and came back more energized and ready to take on the day. The day in which--oh no.

[you] 11:23 a.m: we’ll see about that [you] 11:25 a.m: meet me in front of the art building in three hours?

You didn’t mean to come out mysterious or cold, but now that it was done you were starting to embrace it, showing how much of a layered person you were. Bet photo guy didn’t keep him on his toes like this.

Bet photo man didn’t have to wait in front of a building looking like a sheep lost from the herd, no shepherd in sight to calm your nerves. Its new-age design and uneven blocks brought all the space for doubt to slither into your heart, no answer from Namjoon as of yet. You were hoping for the best, self-esteem steeling itself for you to erase the idea of him ditching you.

A hand fell to your shoulder, his face leaning into your range of sight and you let out the breath you were holding. “Hey, sorry I’m late. The professor wouldn’t let me go.”

You didn’t bother to turn to him, pout ever present as you rubbed your shoulder to get a bit of warmth. The wind was ruthless. “Wouldn’t want to keep such an artefact from discovery. Bet they had a lot to say.”

He still hadn’t let go of you, fingers instead tightening on your shoulder and bringing you closer to him, continuing to rub your grey jacket. You took a peek at him and he paused, cheeks puffed before he burst into laughter, making you look at him in wonder.

As he came back from it, his grin was still present, wide and shiny and rivalling the sun. The kind of expression that’s overwhelming, that makes your eyes crinkle and your mind foggy. It’s merciless in the way it lets the feeling seep through, surrounds with the sensation of allowing your defences to drop. It pulls you in and caresses your thoughts into melting, urging you to enjoy the moment. An endearment which is too familiar to you, but which had never risen from your essence and left drops of warmth and honeysuckle in its path.

Then, as an offence against your well-being, he said, ‘I’m glad you think so’, pulling you out of your daze.

You shook your head. This couldn’t be happening.

“Are we taking the bus this time too?” he said as he resumed to his usual distance.

“Uhh… that’s the plan.”

“Great! Let’s go!” he raised his eyebrows, challenging you with his power walk once again. The chances of you wearing the crown for the fastest walk were slim now that you had met Namjoon.

You didn’t even register the walk to the station, too preoccupied in trying to keep up with him and answer his questions about the guy at the venue as he was blurting out random ‘what an asshole’s. Paying for the ticket and squeezing between a swarm of people came as a blur as well until you were forced into Namjoon’s personal space, close enough to smell the wavering scent of his fabric softener. His gaze turned to you, face getting closer and making your eyes widen.

Namjoon opened his mouth to apologise, but you cut him off by reaching out and plugging one of the earbuds he removed to hear you back into his ear. With that, you turned around so your back was facing him, letting out a deep breath to even your heart rate. You didn’t remember crowded places having such an effect on you, though you supposed crowding anxiety developed at any age.

“How do you feel?”

“Focused,” you said. “I’m estimating the chance I’ll fail this.”

“Failure will never overtake you if your determination to succeed is strong enough.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Namjoon seemed to switch back to his shy persona, avoiding your gaze before his head snapped back to meet your eyes. “Just something to remember. Quotes like that usually calm my thoughts.”

It did make you calmer, just because you imagined Namjoon with his own suburban quote room. Maybe he was the type to read the quotes and meditate after, do a little yoga? Stretch those long legs and kicking other planets while he was at it? “Oh… thank you? Do you read them often?”

He nodded as he brought his cap down, bravery vanishing as the both of you entered the venue.

You grasped the modern twist that brought so many people in, that created a ballroom atmosphere even with the ordinary white curtains closed shut. Lines bloomed from the root of a crystal chandelier and served to separate the rose tones in pleasant shapes. Near their end, they were pulled from their seams and moulded to create another rose-gold halo, which reflected the light of the diamonds and poured right onto the glass-like floor. The thought that you’d be spending at least a day uninterrupted here was thrilling–it made you hide your hands behind your back, intertwine your fingers so you wouldn’t slip and touch.

If the place lured you into letting loose, the three-piece tailored to fit his frame posed a tightness to the chest area of the man waiting in the corner encouraged everything but. He surged forward with power stance and introduced himself to both of you, reaching out to shake Namjoon’s hand. You quirked an eyebrow as you exchanged names, sharing a confused look with him. Following his gestures, you studied both of their reactions with a careful eye as they shook hands, comforted by Namjoon’s lost gaze. At last, he moved to you, and you gripped with the biggest force your noodle arms could handle.

“Our pleasure.”

“We have provided a full course dinner with traditional dessert and listed our vegetarian options in the e-mail we sent. Our in-house catering accepts suggestions up to 10 days before the due date. You can only choose to switch a meal with another one that is available on our list.”

He led the two of you on a tour of the place, explaining the back door exits and pointing to the emergency pans plastered on the main hall. Alright. Positivity. It wasn’t so bad, Breast Man over there might’ve stored some sense of organization and compassion in those gigantic tits–

“The team will be available from the start of your appointment and continue till the end of the day. Anything after midnight will have to be covered by your service or paid for a fee.”

Your face fell.

“I–I don’t understand, if we paid for the entire day then how do they need to pay again?”

He beamed. “Nothing has been covered for the 31st.” Caught you without a reply and continued,

“The only thing ensured from one to seven a.m are the accommodations for the guests coming from abroad which will take place at our partners from Novotel.”

For fuck’s sake, were you about to argue with this asshole over the hours in a day?

“We reserve a full day of preparations, and it is recommended you visit during the week for a check. The rest, in case you want to you can reserve a date to establish the final changes to the menu, decoration, and other services that our team has covered.”

How you wished for the chandelier to drop down and split the earth so you’d never have to face this man again.

Despite the circumstances being turned against you and your temporary fluster, you tried to collect your thoughts enough to formulate an answer. In the corner of your eye, you saw Namjoon tensing. “Of course. I have some right now Regarding the main-course. Swipe the vegetables for carrot puree and add caramel soy sauce. And we’d like–”

And then the head gears that caught up to you made you notice how he was doing nothing but stroll around like a pompous poodle, not paying any attention to you. Did he insist on meeting so he could stay here and attempt to intimidate you? Very funny, how you’ll show him–

The suggestions. Right.

Or not.

“We provide–”

“Sir, with all due respect–” The rest of your cognitive functions not responsible for speech lounged to watch another episode of your embarrassment. “Having a set schedule for the guests is impractical since each plane has its own set-off time. Leaving them with no place to stay for possible hours on end is impolite, and I… I think that it’s not an image your business strives to have…” Your confidence was leaving you like your last hope, but by his face you were making some points. Namjoon remained quiet next to you, nodding on occasion and making little sounds to support your words. Being a beginner in the art of scamming, neither of you could find a strong enough argument for all of his schemes, but you remained tough, defending Yuna’s choices in front of this food and muscle growth connoisseur.

Annoyed from your end and sure to have picked on your guard dog behaviours, tight suit ended up noting the food changes and finalised the details for your next meeting, part of him left unsatisfied, from the way he was watching you and Namjoon. Maybe it was the chest. Then, as if struck with a revelation that will make his horns show at last, he smirked down at you.

“Business aside, it’s a little early to get married, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, body stiffening as you processed his words. You were doing your best, but the feeling was already weighing upon your chest at the mention of doubt regarding the couple. This guy. “Sure, a little early for me to–”

Without a word, you felt Namjoon’s pinky lock with yours before gripping your entire hand and enclosing it in its own. You stopped in your tracks, struggling to think of something else. “to… make a decision, but for them, it’s not. They love each other a lot. They’ll be so happy to be married.” You nodded to yourself, 100% sure of what you were saying as you squeezed Namjoon’s hand unconsciously.

With that, you got out of the situation in one piece, arrangement still intact but with a neon purple bruise to your ego. Devil man made you promise you’d call and schedule another meeting, this time with the staff for decoration as he seemed to milk the last seconds of his scammer persona.

As he was all jittery, you waited for him to release his grip, but, to your surprise, you found yourself pulled further from the building.

“I apologise,” Namjoon whispered, his hand hanging onto your open one.

“Huh?”

“That guy, ugh–he’s very good at making people lose their temper. That was ridiculous.” He puffed, at the limit of frustration and something you couldn’t decipher.“I didn’t know what to say or if you wanted me to say anything. I don’t know, I guess–I didn’t want to discredit you. Not in front of him. Not e-”

He switched to your still intertwined fingers and watched as the tips of your fingers dragged against his. You let them drop back to your sides as you watched his, curling around his denim pocket. You never looked at him, too focused on trying to pick each line running through your head to notice him getting lost in the distance between your hands.

“Namjoon?”

The words died on the tip of his tongue. “Mmm?”

“How was I?”

“Uh…You were fine, got a little carried away at the end. But that’s–we need to talk about–”

You shushed him, a rush of motivation hitting you. Blame it on sparkly eyes, your lack of care for yourself, the moon, Mercury in Retrograde. You were thirsty, and you were going to do something about it. Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Forget it. Let’s go get that tea.”

a/n: and part 1 done! feedback means the world to me and i’ve been working on this for like two months so pleathe tell me ur thoughts! peace! its gonna get spicier in the next parts but we had 2 establish some ground...ehehe ;) thx to miss liana @yuengi for being the sexiest wife n beta possibol.!!!

[callioope]

2019 Favorites

Rules: Time to love ourselves! Choose 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, arts, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2019. Tag as many creators as you want to spread the love!

tagged by the awesome @theputterer​! thank you!

HA, well, TBH I saw this meme going around and I was like oh no if someone tags me I’m not going to have anything to list!

It’s true I barely published anything in 2019 -- only one thing on AO3 -- but I did work on a few unpublished projects. So after some serious scrounging, I thought why not share some sneak peeks at what I’ve got cooking in addition to the few items I did publish!

First, what I actually published:

"I hope my love was someone else’s solid ground”

Firelight flickers across the faces around the campsite and the shadows press a little closer. She’s trying not to stare (to make her staring obvious), but as her gaze sweeps over friends it always settles on him. She keeps measuring the distance, counting the steps past Bodhi and Kay or the other way ‘round, past Baze and Chirrut, to the opposite, furthest corner of tonight’s makeshift home. Always when she finds his eyes, they fall a little farther from her.

She sighs and gets up. Waiting never suited her.

I don’t think an album has ever resonated with me as much as Sara Bareilles’ Amidst the Chaos, or a song as much as “Orpheus.” It’s just perfection. The moment I heard it, I thought of Jyn and Cassian, but this song also feels special to me personally as I’ve struggled with OCD and anxiety and have (finally) been going to therapy for it. It felt cathartic to tell a story about healing through Jyn and Cassian, and I just really loved the prose in this one. I haven’t posted it to AO3 yet because I was thinking about expanding it a little first, and then I never got around to it.

Learning Curve  - Chapter 4: Scarif

“You know,” she says, sliding onto his lap, “there are better ways to show your surrender. If you want me to stop talking about work…” She leans down and demonstrates, and kriff, he tastes like the sunlight dancing on his lips, warm and sweet and happy.

“I love listening to you,” he murmurs when she finally pulls away.

She’s just sitting, safe in his arms, but when he looks at her like that, everything just falls out beneath her, and she closes her eyes and grips his shirt and burrows her head against the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Months ago, when she first stepped foot on the tarmac outside the temple, she’d thought she’d spend a semester and go back to Rudrig, that her life would continue on at its boring, lonely pace, that work would perpetually consume her. She’d never suspected she’d run into Cassian (and thank the Force for that; if she’d known he’d be here, she might not have signed up in the first place, might have preferred to avoid the risk of running into him and facing the embarrassment she’d created all those years ago—and she never would have had the chance to move past it).

She’d had no idea what kind of happiness awaited her, how close a call it had been, how she might never have known the joy of eliciting Cassian’s hard-won smile, the anticipation of an imminent kiss, or the simple satisfaction of quiet companionship and unassuming acceptance.

This took entirely longer than it should have, but I was very glad to finally finish it. It was definitely a lot of fun to imagine a galaxy with no Empire, where Palpatine was defeated before he could enact any of his crueler schemes, and to see what this meant for Jyn and Cassian as well as Lyra and Galen. It was also a challenge -- lots of moving chess pieces to account for -- so thank you to my beta and brainstormer @allatariel​!

I do have a couple regrets: namely, that I didn’t split chapter 4 into two parts (it’s just so long! I suppose I could still split it...) and that I hadn’t watched Rebels yet, so I didn’t get a chance to imagine what kind of life the Ghost crew would have had. Maybe someday? 

The Stakes of Star Wars: whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal

As a writer, I frequently struggle with plot. Is it believable? Is it surprising? Is it exciting? Sometimes, it feels like plot is supposed to be what makes a story interesting. What makes for a cool adventure? The prevailing mindset seems to be: how high can you raise the stakes?

But I think over the last few years of writing, I’ve learned something important about the kinds of stories I want to read, and therefore write.

The stakes are important, but only for what they mean to the character.

It has to be personal.

It’s no secret that I hated TLJ. I wasn’t impressed with TROS, either. I think it’s easy (and, admittedly, cathartic) to point blame at one or the other and to write a laundry list of “things didn’t work for me” (which I did for TLJ -- though I only finished and published part of it). When it came to the final installment, I thought it was more fruitful for me to analyze the core of what didn’t work for me overall. I won’t deny there are things I did love about the sequel trilogy, but as a whole, trilogy-spanning story it really fails for me, and this is my attempt at finding out why.

Now, onto the unpublished projects!!!

Untitled “You’ve Got Mail” AU

Somewhere in a far corner of the Outer Rim, off the far reaches of the Perlemian Trade Route, past Felucia, near the Tion Hegemony, a small planet spins on its axis, and a new day starts.

As the sun rises, it conveys a whole palette of colors: rich reds bleeding into the purple and indigo of the fading night, gold light gleaming over the flat fields of blue-green grass spreading out in all directions.

Nothing stirs but a gentle breeze, racing along the grass like a wave; to the naked eye, this area of the planet remains entirely uninhabited.

And that is the point.

To a careful observer, someone with an eye for it, the grassy flatlands and the gentle rolling hills of Skuhl hide something valuable and just as beautiful as its surface. Such an observer could find it: the narrow crack in the ground; the cramped ten-meter vertical descent into the jagged earth; the winding, sloped passage that eventually blooms into a split-level cavern that might fit a squadron of X-Wing fighters—if they had a way in.

As it is, that cavern houses something else: the Skuhl rebel cell.

And in a little area partitioned off by a series of columns, stalactites, and stalagmites on one side and a makeshift counter, sink, and shelving on the others, Jyn Erso wakes to the sound of the caf machine whirring.

Groaning, she lifts her head from the table and blinks in the soft light of a lantern hanging off the shelf behind her.

“Good morning,” Hadder says, from next to the raucous caf machine. “You’ve got a message.”

AHHH I forgot how much I love this AU. I haven’t opened this in a few months. YEAH, I’ve got some purple prose going there, but I was really trying to imitate the opening of You’ve Got Mail, how it pans down into NYC and such. I got really stuck on this trying to write Jyn and Cassian’s correspondence (the whole point TBH, smh). Otherwise, this is all plotted out (again, thanks to the amazing @allatariel​‘s help) and I just need to write it. Currently has 4,294 words.

Fencing AU (Working title is probably “En Garde”)

Jyn holds a blade for the first time when she is eight years old. It’s shiny and makes a fun clang when she smacks Bodhi’s sword. She’s been watching him from the corner, while she waits for Bodhi’s lesson to finish and for Mama and Papa to pick them up from the YMCA. Saw doesn’t teach children, he already explained. Saw wants serious students. 

So Jyn watches Bodhi stand in front of the mirror covering the far wall and watches him hold his blade in different positions (four, six, seven, eight — she heard Saw name each one). She watches him flick his wrist and smack Saw’s blade (beat, she repeats in her head) and watches him turn his wrist and push Saw’s blade away when he attacks first (parry).

She watches this go on for an hour, and afterwards, when Saw looks away to talk to some of the parents, she knicks a spare blade and a spare mask and dares Bodhi to fight her. 

It doesn’t take long for one of the parents to point her out (adults can never be trusted). But she doesn’t see it at first, too busy stabbing Bodhi, or trying to — she’s sure she’s hit him plenty on his arm, because she’s reenacted that laser sword fight from Space Clash enough times to know how it’s done.

“Jyn,” Saw says behind her, “What are you doing?”

She whirls around, staring up at Saw through the grated black mesh of the mask. He’s looking down at her, arms crossed, and he sounds mad. But she doesn’t look away or back down, even though he’s really tall and sometimes the other kids get scared when he’s angry. (She doesn’t. She’s not scared of anything.)

“Fencing,” she says. 

Saw stares back at her for forever, and she gives back an eternity because she plays this game all the time. She can win.

What she doesn’t know then, but Saw does, is that she will win.

He shakes his head. “Not like that,” Saw says.

“But I can fence,” Jyn says, “I can be serious.”

“Serious fencers,” Saw says, “aim for the heart.”

That stops her next words. She glances at Bodhi for a second, who shrugs, and then back at Saw. 

“Ready?” he says, gesturing for them to continue. “Allez!”

Oh, if I had all the time to write, I would finish this before the Olympics... I guess I still have half a year. Maybe it can still happen!! As it is, I don’t actually have much more of this written (just plotted). I fenced for five years at the local YMCA, plus just a little in college (sadly my university didn’t have a team, so I could only fence when I was able to get back home). I miss it dreadfully. Every now and then I dabble in researching clubs down here to fence, but it is so expensive and time consuming. So much to do! So little time! So I thought I’d just write about it to scratch that itch. Basically the gist is that Jyn is an Olympic fencer, and she fences foil (because that was my weapon and I’m incredibly biased) while Cassian fences epee. Aaaand look at that, now I’m rambling on about fencing. (I’d give y’all lessons if I could, do not get me started) On to the next! 

Nat Geo AU

“You seem quiet,” Cassian says quietly, still reading what she’d refer to as a tentative draft of their piece.

She shrugs.

His eyes flick up to her face just briefly and he misreads the regret on her face. “Do you miss it? Your time with Saw?”

She’s startled into a laugh. “You mean war correspondence?”

His nod is almost imperceivable, but he knows she pays close attention.

“No,” she says, perplexed.

“Not as much action out here.”

He’s worried she’s bored. As if she could be, at his side. “I almost had to wrestle a crocodile for your life yesterday.”

He grants her just the tiniest crook of a smile. “I was safe in the boat.”

“That croc was sizing you up,” she says, thinking of a large crocodile that they’d thought had been resting serenely on the river bank, before it suddenly splashed into the water right next to their boat, towards Cassian’s perch at the railing. “I saw the glint in its eye. I know the look.”

“I’m sure you do.” He snorts. Then he gestures towards her pad, where he’s highlighted a phrase. “This one — for the headline.”

She takes it and reads what he’s chosen. “You know it depends on what Kay likes.”

“He’ll like that one.”

The premise is that Jyn and Cassian work for National Geographic (or rather, Rogue Geographic) and are assigned to cover a conservation project headed by Ezra Bridger and the crew aboard the Ghost. I’ve only managed to write an intro scene about Jyn and Cassian finishing up their previous project (entirely, entirely self-indulgent and based on my honeymoon). I was hoping to finish and publish this in January, buuuut I got way distracted by an epic post-war fic that @allatariel​ and I are working on, which I think we may have started plotting in 2019, though I’m not sure -- and at any rate, the NatGeo brings us to six so you’ll just have to wait for the next word on that ;) 

 WELP THAT’S IT. 

Thanks for reading! 

TAGGING: Anyone who reads this and wants to do it. Yeah, you. You who were hoping you got tagged? I’m tagging you. You’re it!

[boymeetsweevil]

Hoping for the Best - NSFW

Grouping: Lifeguard!Reader x Lifeguard!Hoseok

Word Count: ~24.3k    lmao

Warnings/Themes: Friends to enemies? to lovers, SLOW burn, Descriptions of bullying, unrequited love???, Making out, Cunniligus, Fingering, Penetrative sex, Dom!Hoseok if you squint, spanking, use of the epithet brat ;), Lack of communication, Idiots who don’t talk about their feelings

Summary: “He knows you two are linked though. You must know it too. It’s impossible to deny when you both reach climax at the same time during your first time, the breath leaving him like you knocked it out and your eyes rolling into the back of your head like he scratched stars there for only you to see.”

A/N: This piece is for the BSC 1000 Followers Writing Project! based off prompt 14: Pretending to drown to get a kiss from the hot lifeguard / “Actually I’m drowning please save me.”  ALSO! the coffee shop joke makes a little more sense if you think about it in chinese but oh well 

Even after four years of coming and going, the gentle warmth that you feel seeping into your tired bones when your shuttle returns you to your hometown every summer never seems to dull. Certainly, you will never tire of the smell of the household laundry detergent, weaved into the threads of your parents’ clothes, after two long semesters away. The same scratch of threadbare sheets across your skin as you lay in the bed you’ve had since you were 9 is always a welcome feeling to wake up to on the first morning back. The smell of porridge, a dish you’ve come to appreciate, greets you as well.

“There she is,” your father smiles at your stumbling figure over the newspaper. His eyes crinkle and he holds you in his gaze for a long few beats. There’s something bittersweet about the way the eye adjusts to the film that time lays over loved ones that have been away. Despite this, he can still clearly see the outline of your past self, much smaller but with the same bedhead and swinging feet at the dinner table. “The princess has finally awakened and decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Good morning, dad,” you yawn widely.

Your mother passes you a steaming bowl of porridge and a plate of cut fruit. She sits down with the mail and begins to sort through the small mountain of bills. Half of them she waves at your father for him to appraise as well. This reminds him.

“Say, kiddo,” his tone is careful and it wakes you up from your dreamy haze quicker than you would like. “You thinking about doing work at the marine lab again?”

“Honey, she just got back yesterday. Let her rest. You can talk about all that later, can’t you?”

“Talk about what?” Pushing your bowl back, you straighten up in your chair and turn to your father. He looks a bit guilty now that you’ve pinned him with your stare.

“Your mother and I were just wondering if you were going to renew your internship with them. They paid you the last couple of times and…If we’re being honest, we could use a little help this summer.”

“Are you guys in trouble with the house?” Alarm colors your voice and for the first time since you’d arrived, you look around carefully.

The house doesn’t look like its changed. It’s still cozy with its warm-toned exposed wood and painted cabinets. Your parents haven’t changed either. They don’t look much older than they did when you were home last. Your mother wears her favorite cardigan to protect from the chill that creeps up on her when she wakes with the sun. Your father wears a simple pair of khakis and a short sleeved polo, a regular work outfit. Perhaps it’s because you haven’t cast off the last vestiges of sleep that you don’t immediately realize it’s odd for your father, a retired school teacher, to be working in the summer. A divot forms in between your brows and you wonder how long they planned on keeping you in the dark about money troubles while spoiling you after graduation.

“Of course not, baby.” Your mother lays a soothing hand on your shoulder and pats. “Things are just a little tight lately. Your uncle needed money again, this time a little more than usual.”

“Now that you’re all grown-up, we thought you might like to try and help out a little more around the house. Fun, right?” Despite the gravity of the subject, your father still manages to smile softly at his own joke with a deep laugh.

“I actually got an email from them a weeks ago,” you return to your porridge in hopes that it’ll dislodge the tell-tail lump you get in your throat before crying. “They’re giving priority to the PhD students this year, so they won’t have any funding for interns not already affiliated with the college.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. We both know how much you loved that place,” your father frowns and your expressions mirror one another. But while his face expresses sympathetic disappointment, yours shows resolution.

“No. No, it’s totally fine. This is good. I should probably keep on applying to real jobs now, anyway. And I need to be able to pay rent somewhere, so I should get a summer job too.”

It’s your mother’s turn to frown. “Oh, baby, you know you could stay here, if you want. We wouldn’t ever dream of charging you for rent.”

“No, mom,” you stand up from the table, “I should start taking responsibility. I’m gonna go out and find something simple so I can focus on job apps, but I’ll bring you whatever check I get.”

Silence falls over the room as you wash your dishes at the sink. Over just the sound of the running water, your parents exchange meaningful glances at one another. You press a kiss to both of their heads before you ascend the stairs to your room to get ready. Your father’s hand envelopes your mother’s. You’ve grown well.

The first thing you do after you’ve finished getting ready is head over to a local coffee house. It’s the most student-friendly place in all of your sleepy suburban town. What can only be described as an acoustic/hip-hop hybrid flows from hidden speakers, drowning out the sound of the bell on the front door tinkling when you step inside. The cafe is full of other enterprising 20-somethings, so no one’s eyes raise to follow you as you find a seat by the shop window.

You open your laptop and pull up your resume file. Luckily, you’ve been diligent and it’s been looked over and updated. Opening up a webpage, you begin to fill out applications for various companies looking for new hires. Some of them are just companies you think you could handle the workload at, but a few of them are positions for doing research to improve and preserve marine life, which is a passion of yours. Time passes you by quickly and you’re so involved in emailing your research advisors at your place of internship and professors who praised you in undergrad that you don’t see the man who enters the cafe; nor do you see the way all the staff behind the counter hurry to greet him.

Jin goes to retrieve his apron from the back room before coming out again to start work. He does a visual sweep over the cafe, looking for any customers who look like they’re not enjoying their experience, any spills, or display sets that are out of order. He walks over the small side table that houses a meticulously stacked set of shining chrome thermoses with the minimalist cafe logo embossed at the bottom. One of the containers is leaning precariously out of alignment and threatening to spill the entire arrangement on the poor girl working studiously nearby. Quietly, he walks over, making sure not to walk too loudly and startle the customer.

It takes a careful hand, but he manages to organize the display pyramid once more without too much clanking. A quick glance to the side informs him that you’re not a regular customer. He’s come in to work every single day since the cafe open 15 months ago, and he’s certain he’s memorized all the familiar and loyal faces. Another glance tells him that you haven’t bought anything—judging by the lack of pastry crumbs, crumpled soiled napkins, empty drinks or characteristic ring of perspiration on the table surface. But you’re clearly deep enough into your work that you can’t have just arrived either. Jin shakes his head with a reminiscing smile. College students and their desperation for a place to work. He debates going over having one of the baristas tell you that loitering isn’t allowed, but since you’re new and still a potential customer he leaves to go brew a cup of coffee instead of shooing you away.

The sound of a text notification from your mother inquiring about how you’re doing disrupts your tunnel vision. You finish uploading your CV onto an online application to a research facility in the nearby city and shoot her back a text telling her you’re at the new cafe in town. Her responding notification comes quickly, the first few lines asking “isn’t that where your friend-” before cutting off. Before you answer her, you figure you should stretch your legs as an excuse to buy a sugary drink. You stand up and push out your chair, about to turn around and head to the counter, but your chair bumps against something. The something yelps and takes a few shuffled steps back. You turn with imploring hands already out, ready to apologize and curse yourself for being too in your own world. You’re not expecting to see Kim Seokjin standing behind you with a takeaway coffee and fixings looking equally shocked to see you.

“Jin? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in so long!” A smile splits your face and you gesture towards your table while clearing some of your stuff to the side so he has some room to put his things down.

“I know. I was wondering if you were gonna be one of those people who skips town forever after they leave for college, but I guess you’re not.”

“No, that’s not quite me,” you duck your head bashfully, “What about you? Do you work around here?” The takeaway coffee sits in front of him, steaming. He looks to be on his way out. “Or is that where you’re headed now?”

“This is actually for you,” he chuckles. “But if I’d known the free-loader sitting out here without buying anything was you, I would'vr run down to a Starbucks and got you one of those candy drinks instead of this blonde roast.”

“I see you’re still a coffee snob.” You take the coffee anyway, though. A rigorous four years at college made you less discriminatory about your caffeine choices. If it would keep you up, you would drink it. That being said, you still hate the taste of plain coffee and are immediately grateful when you notice the sugar shaker and tiny cream pitcher that Jin brought to the table as well.

“I see you still have the palate of 4 year old.” His nose wrinkles as he watches you ruin the perfect coffee he made for you with too much cream and a heinous amount of sugar.

You stick your tongue out at him before taking a careful sip of the hot drink. It tastes like hot, coffee-flavored ice cream, so you’re satisfied.“If you’re not going to work, what brings you here?”

“This is my work. I own this place,” he says with a smirk and grand sweeping movement of his arm towards the rest of the cafe. You look at the store’s logo printed in metallic yellow characters throughout the space—GoldJin Coffee. Your eyes widen and you look back down at your blonde roast. Blonde roast…golden coffee…GoldJin Coffee. You groan at the horrible pun and his sudden squeaking laugh tells you he’s delighted that you get the joke.

“I see your sense of humor is still terrible. Good to know,” you deadpan.

“But the coffee is good. You gotta admit it’s good.”

“It is,” you nod as you take another sip, eyes closing partially at the taste and partially at his awful dad-sensibility. “I guess it has to be if you’re going to found this place on such a shitty joke.”

He leans in conspiratorially, making you lean in too. “If I’m being honest…when I explained the joke on the company instagram page, we lost 20 followers. But the sales never dipped, so I’m fine.” He waits until you’ve put your cup down before asking, “What about you. Are you working?”

“Yeah. Well, actually no. I’m trying to find some work for the summer, but I was also applying for longer-term jobs before you came over.”

“I heard you were working at the BTU marine department,” he says with furrowed brows. You sigh at the mention of the internship again.

“I was, but they’ve decided to give actual BTU students priority. Which I totally understand. But I need money, so I can’t really afford to do a free internship right now. Hence the frantic job applications during my precious summer break.”

“Oh, well why don’t you work at the country club? My dad says that they could use some help over there. He still remembers you, I’m sure.”

“What kind of work?”

Although you’re fairly equal-opportunity when it comes to jobs, you’re not about to spend your break picking up after rich people, even if they produced people like your high school friend Jin. He picks up on your wary tone and laughs.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing too degrading. They need help at the children’s pool. Can you still freestyle like you used to?”

He grins at you fondly, fairly sure the answer is yes given that you became friends because he recruited you himself to the swim team in your freshman year. As one of the handful of upperclassmen there, he was assigned to you as your practice and tournament mentor. 

Memories of the smell of chlorine saturating the air and sunburns on your shoulders dance across your mind’s eye. Almost as if it were happening right then and there, you remember the sound of Jin yelling at you as you pushed your body to slice through the water faster and faster during practices. You remember the feeling of pressing a cold pack to his shoulder after he pulled a muscle training in the weight room too hard and couldn’t make it to the very tournament he’d been prepping for. You remember Jin cradling your tear-stained face and laughing with you after you beat your record by more than you could have ever imagined. You remember the two of you sharing a seat and blanket on the bus during winter meets. You remember Jin sneaking into the girl’s bathroom to bring you the tampons you left in your locker only to get caught by Lisa, the girls team coach, and forced to do 50 laps.There’s no way you could forget any of that.

Your eyes get a little misty. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“Great,” he says after a beat. “If you pass the lifeguard test and get picked, it pays 20 an hour and some of the parents leave tips.”

“Are you serious? Since when do people tip lifeguards?”

He shrugs. “It’s the country club. They do it because they can. They’re testing today at four, you know.”

You check your phone and see that you have just enough time to run back to your house to grab some swim stuff and get to the club in time for the test. Pulling out a 10 dollar bill, you thank the universe for sending Jin to you in this hour of financial need.

“Here’s a 10. I don’t know how much this coffee costs, but knowing you it’s probably overpriced.”

“You don’t have to pay—” he gapes before you cut him off with a smile and dismissive hand wave.

“Just take the money, Jin. I’m going over there right now. Wish me luck.”

He can only nod, picking up the empty sugar packets and wiping down the few stray droplets of cream you left on the table while you pack. You’re out the door before he can actually get any words of encouragement out, but he’s certain you won’t need it. It’s not until he comes back with a spray bottle to properly clean the table and sees the 10 dollar bill that he realizes he probably should have warned you who you might see at the pool.

The pool, as it happens, has its own sector at the club and its own parking lot. Both the regular pool and the kiddie pool look onto the rolling green of the golf course that is rumored to have won national gardening competitions. The parking spaces are ample and you are glad for this. For some reason you feel it would be doing your vehicle a disservice if you were forced to park it next to what looked like a 2020 Bentley. Driving in your father’s two digit year-old compact car past the valet makes you realized it’s been a while since you’ve been on the wealthier side of town.

You reminisce as you follow the signs that lead you to the lifeguard test. The last time you were in the area, it was for Jin’s graduation party. There had been a large, beautiful, and somehow legal bonfire in the backyard of the Kim residence. It was probably one of the most genuinely entertaining parties you’d gone to, beating out nearly all of the drunk raves you’d attended during college. Most of the guests were family friends of the Kims, but the rest were swim team members. Given that you’d all become comfortable with one another while in a near-constant state of wetness and undress, there were no awkward party jitters. You all drank from red Solo cups and bonded over stories about Jin since he was the man of the hour. It would have been a perfect party if not for one person. Almost on command, you can feel your heart-rate spike at the thought of the most annoying boy you had ever encountered. He had been invited to the party as well and spent the whole night trying to get your attention, not unlike how he behaved when you were in classes together. You try to remain calm before the swim test and force the annoying memories back to the corner of your mind. Lucky for you, he wouldn’t ever bother you again.

When you finally make your way out of the winding women’s changing room, you’re greeted by the sight of crystalline blue water ebbing gently within the large outdoor pool. A gathering of about 8 other people are chattering amongst themselves while a single lifeguard looks over a clipboard. Most of them turn as you approach and you nod a bit shyly before the lifeguard checks the time and decides to begin the test. Any other time, you would be nervous but this isn’t an ordinary test environment. The only feeling swimming and being in water can give you is a sense of deep calm. This proves to give you a leg up because not even 5 minutes into the directions two people leave after the lifeguard says the pressure of the job isn’t for those who freeze up while stressed. More people end up getting cut when they ask you all to tread water without using your arms for 5 minutes. Suddenly you are glad that you kept a regular swim schedule in college to maintain your stress. Your arms are burning by the time they ask you to retrieve a brick from the 10 foot portion of the pool floor, but you make it through. By the end, there are only 3 other people who have finished with you.

You’re blotting at your skin with the towel you brought, waiting for your legs to stop feeling like lead so you can go back to the car, when the head lifeguard approaches you.

“I was paying special attention to you out there,” she says. Her voice doesn’t sound indicting, but it doesn’t sound laudatory either. She’s a stern looking woman, probably in her mid 30’s. Her nametag reads Stella, but you have a hunch that’s not her real name. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah,” you wrap yourself protectively in your towel, her gaze making you feel transparent. “My highschool coach used to make us take this test every year if we wanted to get on varsity and stay there. And I was the gym lifeguard during the weekends in college.”

She’s silent for a beat and squints, taking in your open expression. “Were you one of Sun’s pupils?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Of course. He was my coach too. You can always tell when someone has trained under him. It’s like their stress is water soluble or something.” She finally cracks a grin and you smile, relieved that she doesn’t have a bone to pick with you. “You know CPR?”

You nod and she smiles wider before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I like you. I’ll tell you a secret. We already had the first lifeguard picked out, but we needed a second one to meet pool standards.” You nod with understanding.  “You just got hired.”

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it.” Stella tosses her head back at your earnest confessions. “When can I start?”

“Tomorrow, if you can. But first come meet the other guy that way you all can start building rapport. You might know him. He’s another one of Sun’s kids. Small world, huh?”

She walks over to the lifeguard lounge and calls into the back.

“Hey! Send Jung out, will you? We found another Sun kid for the little pool, I want them to meet.”

A few moments later a guy with bright orange hair stumbles out of the lounge, wearing the standard red trunks and a matching life vest. When he’s only a few meters away your heart plummets into your stomach. Jung Hoseok’s eyes light up in recognition and he gives you a bright smile.

“Hey, long time no see,” he chirps. When you don’t say anything Stella raises a brow and coughs a little awkwardly. You speak up, remembering the job at stake.

“Hey, Hoseok.” Stella claps a heavy hand on your shoulders, sensing the tension in the way your voice shrinks over the syllables of his name.

“Well, clearly you kids know each other. Hoseok here can tell you about the hours and the jobs you have when you’re not on the chair. If there are any issues, come to me.” No one says anything, so she adds, “I’ll leave you both to it,” before heading to the lounge.

You watch her leave to avoid making eye contact with him, but when she disappears into the lounge Hoseok pipes up.

“This is really crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really is.” A headache is building in your temples at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that it’s deepened after nearly a decade, it still elicits the same curl of annoyance under your skin. “Stella said you can tell me about the hours and stuff?”

He doesn’t seem to pick up on your clipped, overly polite tone. “Totally. So, we come in at 7am, six days a week, and open up the little pool and put out the ropes.You know, stuff coach Sun would make us do if we were on our phones during practice, remember?”

You nod, eyes closed and the pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Then we’ll be up in the chairs for 90 minutes at a time. If no one gets hurt, then we can take 20 minutes to swim or take sun breaks. We close 3 hours early on Sundays, though. Oh yeah! They have sunblock and water in the lounge that we can use whenever so you don’t have to—what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

It seems easier to let him escort you to a bench by the poolside than to yell at him about personal space. Besides, under the clean scent of his deodorant, he smells like the the pool and sunscreen and sun warmed skin. The smell actually settles your nerves a bit and your migraine wanes enough for you to open your eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Jung Hoseok is leaning too closely into your space, but it’s been so long that the instinct to bark at him seems to have died away. Up close you can see, from a purely objective standpoint of course, that time has been kind of him. The faded orange of his hair tells you it must have been been dyed a while ago. The water probably also took its toll on his hair judging by the way his hair waves. Clearly, he’s already spent plenty of time in the sun because his hair has somewhat natural looking, almost blond, highlights and his skin is a smooth expanse of warm brown, free of the pimples he had during adolescence. 

The bright red life vest doesn’t hide much of his upper half, which is lean and sculpted, the hint of abs visible as he curls towards you. But this is Jung Hoseok, so you quickly stop your clinical appraisal of his body and go back to politely looking at his face. The first thing you notice is that the characteristic set of braces he wore all through high school are gone and leave only a straight, white smile in its wake. You note that the little beauty mark that rests above his lip is still there. Duly noted. His face is still as annoyingly not-ugly as it has always been, though his jaw has filled out more along with everything else that’s broadened with age. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that Jung Hoseok had to grow up eventually. At least physically. Emotionally and mentally speaking, his growth has yet to be determined.

A water bottle suddenly appears in your face, nearly poking you in the eye. His grace, you decide, has not improved at all.

“Seems like you still get headaches if you push yourself too hard in the pool,” he says with a soft smile.

“What would you know about that,” you grumble, tone on the verge of impolite.

“You always used to get them when you were trying to shave your times. It was always kinda sad to watch.”

“Yeah, well…” You can’t think of anything to say. Clearly, he was observant, because you were good at hiding your ailments from the team. “What were you saying about swim breaks?”

He starts up again, telling you about where you could order your swimsuit and where you could get free snacks in the country club and that playing with the kids was the fastest way to get tipped. Your headache lessens as you continue to drink and let him chatter on in the background. After a while he exhausts all the knowledge he acquired after being on payroll for a week and your legs feel sturdy enough that you can walk back to the car. You stand, towel forgotten until it falls at your feet revealing your bathing suit clad figure. Fortunately, you wore one of your more conservative swimsuits since this was technically a job interview of sorts, but even in your one-piece you feel exposed in front of Hoseok. Nothing is subtle about the way his gaze follow the curves of your body or the way his mouth and eyelids drop slightly while staring. When he finally makes his way back up to your face, your fiery gaze and hot cheeks are enough for him to avert his eyes quickly.

“Guess you haven’t changed at all,” you mutter before pulling the towel back around you more securely and marching back to the car.

Jin has just served his last Goldilatte of the day when you coming bursting through the door. The bell alerting that a customer has arrived rattles shrilly and he curses himself for not just sending you a warning text, but he thought he had more time. He opens one eye cautiously to see you seething in front of him with dripping wet hair and a damp looking hoodie. There is still a little comfort for him, knowing that you’re not tall enough to climb over the cake display and throttle him.

“Did you or did you not know that Jung Hoseok was also taking the lifeguard position? Answer truthfully and I won’t cause an even bigger scene in the middle of your cafe.”

Knowing you, you probably wouldn’t actually cause a scene but he still checks behind your shoulder cautiously and sees that some patrons have taken off their ever-present headphones to eavesdrop on the conversation. With the poise of a businessman, he silently removes his apron and comes from behind the counter to guide you to his office for some privacy. You sit back in the chair facing him, pouting at him expectantly.

“I did know. My father mentioned it while we were having dinner last week.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.”

“Honestly…I just forgot. The cafe is busy and it had been a week since he told me, so it was kind of just old news. I certainly wasn’t expecting to run into you. If you had let me know you were back in town sooner, I would have probably remembered to tell you.”

“So this is my fault now?”

“No, but I don’t think anyone is really at fault. How bad was it? Seeing him, I mean.”

Your mouth is open and you’re ready to complain about Hoseok just like the old days, but you can’t think of anything he’d actually done wrong while you were at the pool. In fact, he’d been welcoming...in his own way. He’d always been a close talker, even in high school, and if it weren’t him you wouldn’t be bothered. He’d even offered you water after noticing your headache.

“Do you remember the headaches I used to get,” you blurt out. Jin startles a bit at your outburst.

“What headaches?”

“I used to get really bad exertion headaches during practices.” Jin’s confused look has you brushing it off. “That was random, sorry.”

“Okay. Well, it sounds like he didn’t ask you out a million times, so maybe he grew up.” His hands spread in the air like the problem has dissipated into the atmosphere.

“B-but he still checked me out today when I dropped my towel. I had a bathing suit on and he looked like his eyes were going to fall out. What well-adjusted grown man acts like that?” You purposely leave the fact that you gave him a good look over as well. But that’s because what you did was different…

“Look,” he says, laying a sympathetic hand on yours, “He’s probably just going through all the feelings he had last when you were around. I’m sure he’ll get used to your presence and then realize the feelings are old and move on.”

The finality of the idea should be comforting to you, but something about the edges of it gnaws at you unpleasantly. You can’t figure out what it is about the idea that bothers you so much even as you drive your car back to your house, taking the scenic routes so you have time to ruminate and can stay out with the sun a bit longer. Breaking the news about your new cushy job at the country club pool gives your mind a break from the emotional puzzle because the relief that washes over your parents when you tell them your rate of pay makes you proud. But once you’ve had your fill of scrolling through social media and are tucked away in your bed, you can’t stop thinking about Jung Hoseok.

It would be less confusing if hindsight wasn’t 20/20. Looking back, you realize that maybe you made Hoseok out to be a bit more of a nuisance than he actually was. You’d gone to the same elementary school once upon a time. And you’d had quite a few play dates at each other’s houses when you were really young, but that changed when you turned 12. He moved away for middle school because his parents wanted him at a new place where he could dance. On the night before he’d moved away, you’d both cried in each other’s arms and when your father finally came to pick you up, you’d kissed his cheek and told him not to forget you. He’d squeezed you hard and said he wouldn’t. Two years later, you were starting high school and heard rumors that he had come back and was staying. You remembered your wish and hoped then that he hadn’t forgotten, but it seemed that he must have. He was a completely different person.

On the first day of each year, an assembly for all the students was held so that new students who didn’t come from the local middle school could come up and be seen and welcomed. 

He’d been up on the stage and he’d looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize him as he crossed in front of your spot on stage as one of the new student tour guides. As he passed you, he made eye contact with you, making hope bloom in your chest. After everyone was seated, each new student was asked to come up when their name was called and stand so the student body could see them. At the sound of Hoseok’s name, a deep and raucous applause coming from a few of the boys in the audience sounded. You could recognize the voices of some of the boys in the crowd, the rowdier ones that caused trouble for teachers but remained like idols in the eyes of many students. That they had taken Hoseok in surprised you. He didn’t seem like their type of recruit—he was too open and caring. The principle then asked the student tour guides to come up to the front of the stage and introduce themselves as well, and you suddenly worried you’d stutter or do something to make the kids in the audience act up again. Your clothing choice, your hairstyle, your gait all suddenly became potential areas for critique as you walked to the microphone, but it was too late then. You just had to make sure you gave a normal introduction.

“Hello. I am one of the student guides. If you have any questions and you see me, don’t be afraid to come up and ask.”

A false sense of security settled over you when you just got regular polite applause. It was a short introduction, and it was ordinary enough that no one could say anything. You gave a quick curtsy to the audience, as was encouraged of students when they were on stage, and a long low wolf-whistle sounded out. Blood rushed to your face and you turned quickly to find the source. Hoseok froze mid-whistle, not expecting you to turn around before he was through. At least he had the decency to look ashamed, but it didn’t do anything to assuage the rolling laughter that was coming from not only the rowdy boys in the back of the auditorium, but most of the students below. With flaming cheeks, you rushed back to your seat with the other guides. One nice girl assured you that your uniform skirt more than long enough to cover anything and that you didn’t actually flash anyone, but that wasn’t your concern. Instead, you were dealing with the fact that your last words to Hoseok as a friend hadn’t meant anything.

After the speech, he tried to find you. But he couldn’t. You were lost in the sea of students leaving the assembly and his new friends were too excited about how well the joke went to let him go. He endured a few playful headlocks and punches until he made up a solid excuse about not wanting to stick around for the principal to find him. They all dispersed after that, but he never got the chance to tell you it was just a joke, that it was just what he needed to do to get into their clique. He never got the chance to apologize, to tell you that he still remembered what you told him. He was certain that if he could just get a moment alone with you, he would be able to right his wrong, but you were determined to never give him the time of day again.

Because you hadn’t given your name in your introduction speech, no one really knew it was you on the first day of school who seemingly flashed the new students, but you still couldn’t shake off the other conflicting feelings. It seemed that from that moment on, the universe was determined to put you near Hoseok so you could never get peace of mind. He was in so many of your classes, always trying to be desk partners, study buddies, lab mates and you’d thwarted all the offers that you could. When you couldn’t avoid him, you tried your best not to chat to him. You would hiss at him if he attempted conversations, about movies you liked or music you listened to, or asked you if you still liked things he remembered from when you were both young. Every time you would shut him down, but he seemed fueled by that. He followed you everywhere. He even followed you to swimming.

Two weeks later, on the day of tryouts, you saw Hoseok sitting on the bleachers next to your recruiter and went back into the changing rooms immediately to put on a t-shirt, knowing it might slow your times and keep you from getting on the team. But it was worth the protection from him wolf-whistling or any other form of public humiliation he had for you. The shirt worked for a few laps since you were pushing yourself to go harder than usual to make up for the drag in the water, but the coach pulled you aside and told you that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that the shirt was slowing your times and there were no shirts allowed at races. Averting your eyes from the rest of the students watching the drama unfold, you pulled off your shirt and swam your heart out for the rest of the day, putting all your anger and embarrassment into the laps until you were gasping. You’d made it onto the team, but it almost didn’t feel worth it when you saw that he would also be on the team with you.

Your phone chimes, alerting you that you should go to sleep soon if you want 7 hours before getting up with the chickens the next morning for your first day of work. Sighing, you turn over in your sheets, suddenly too hot. When you wake up in the morning, you realize you dreamt of something, but the only thing you can remember is the very end. You recall being 13 and running from something in your high school hallways and into a pair of warm brown arms. The clock on your phone tells you that you have 6 more minutes of sleep, but you resist the tease of a micro nap and hop in the shower instead. It’s not until you’re back out and clean that you realize your work uniform isn’t coming until the next day and your only one-piece is still wet because you forgot to switch the laundry loads. Groaning, you hunt for your most demure suit and find some high waisted bottoms and a sportier cut top from your dresser and hope for the best.

The sun is out and high when you arrive at the little pool. You’re already sweating in the hoodie you threw over yourself as last minute effort to cover up. On the other side of the lattice gate separating the two pools, Hoseok sees you walking in. He gives you a big wave and runs back inside to come greet you, bangs bouncing when he runs over. He’s amazingly chipper for someone at 7 in the morning but tones it down a bit when he sees that you look like you had a rough night.

“Ready to lay out the ropes?” His eyes are big and bright, and most importantly, on your face.

“Sure.”

You follow him through the lounge, taking in the stacks of boxes of pools supplies and the senior lifeguards drinking coffee or dozing off since the larger pool doesn’t open until a little later. Stella gives you a thumbs up from her little glass cubicle where she’s on the phone. Hoseok jumps into the water, already in his typical red board shorts with the club logo embroidered onto them, and swims with the dividing rope across the width of the pool.

“You should come in. The water feels great and it’ll be the only time today its not filled filled with people’s pee.”

Trying to remember Jin’s theory, you push down the instinctual suspicion towards him wanting you to get in the pool with him. To aid some of your nerves you turn around before stripping out of your hoodie and jump quickly into the water before swimming a casual distance over to him. Not too close but not too far.

“So, what made you—”

“About yesterday—”

The corner of your mouth tugs up in spite of yourself when you both start talking at the same time. You gesture for him to go first and he looks at you a bit nervously before continuing.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him, focusing on the silly way his hair lays flat against his head to diffuse the tension. “It’s only natural to look at stuff for a second when it just…appears.”

“No, no. I mean, there’s no real excuse for it. I guess I still—”

“I get it, it was a knee jerk reaction to something you’re used to doing. It’s cool. It’s been years. The slate is clear. Let’s just forget about it and make this not awkward.”

“But it wasn’t just—”

His cryptic speech sends you into a panic and you do the first thing that comes to mind, which is curl into fetal position so you can dunk yourself underwater. You drop a few feet to the bottom of the pool, knowing that he can still completely see you and reach you. A hand curls around your arm, surprising a few bubbles out of you, and pulls with an impressive amount of strength. At the surface you gasp out of indignation and wipe your eyes.

“Shit! Sorry, that was a lot but I really would like to explain—“

“I swear to god, Jung, if you don’t—“

“I didn’t forget about you,” he says suddenly with a small voice. The water around you appears to have nearly frozen in response to the tension in the air. Not even the smallest ripple dares tip the tenuous balance of the moment.

Your breath hitches and you wonder if maybe you both stayed up thinking about the same thing last night. But that couldn’t be it. That would be too much of a coincidence.

Hesitation has his arm trembling as he reaches out towards your stiff form. Maybe you won’t run away this time and he can get everything out. But the movement of his arm breaks your stupor and sends you stumbling back a foot in the water. The palms of his hands come up as a sign that he’s not trying to hurt you.

“Do you remember before I left for middle school? What you said to me that night? Because I do. And I didn’t break my promise, I didn’t forget you.”

“You sure about that?”

“What? Of course I didn’t. Don’t you remember all the times I tried to talk to you and start where we left off?”

“You may not have forgotten about me,” you practically spit the words at him, “But you broke your promise to me the minute you pulled that shit at the student assembly.” He winces and you feel emboldened. “And let’s not forget that stunt you pulled in the cafeteria in the front of literally everyone.”

Hoseok enters the lunchroom with his friends and automatically scans the room for you.

“You looking for your girlfriend, Jung?”

“No need. I already know where you mom lives,” he says lightly, still searching for your a glimpse backpack or the blue tracksuit you wore that day for the race you had later.

He finds you in the lunchline, debating between milk and water while the student in front of you haggles for an extra serving. Running over, he uses the intimidation factor of him and his two larger friends’ presence to cut in front of the student behind you.

“You should pick the chocolate milk. It’s your favorite.”

He can practically see hairs on your neck stand up when you hear his voice and he’s certain that if you had claws they would be out and poking holes through the little cardboard container in your hand. You put the carton back down in its ice bucket and take a water.

“Coach said dairy will slow us down,” your answer is curt as you move forward in the line. The lunch lady loads up your tray how you ask and you run to the cash register to pay before he can even pick up the milk.

Steeling himself with determination, he follows behind, trying to make sure he doesn’t lose sight of you. When he gets to the register, all he sees is your ID card where you left it in your hurry. Quickly he retrieves it and looks over the cafeteria, watching your head bob away. He finds you soon after, seated at the end of the swimming table next to Jin. His two friends follow behind more slowly, one carrying his tray.

“You ready for the race, squirt?” Jin puts chicken strip on your plate as he usually does, worried about your protein intake.

“I think so. If I get to the gym early to stretch it should be fine,” you mutter thoughtfully around your fork.

“I’ll go with you and we can do some circuits together.” You look to your left to see Hoseok smiling brightly, his braces glinting in the fluorescent lighting.

“This table is full. You’ll have to sit with your mob boss at his table,” you snark. Jin is about to intervene and give you both the talk about team inclusivity when Hosoek playfully brandishes your ID inches away from your face.

“Come sit with us and you can have this back.” At sight of the plastic card, you pat the pockets of your suit frantically before coming up short. You stand up. You’re sick of Jung Hoseok always bugging you.

“Give it back,” you say lowly so only he can hear.

You’re already making a scene by standing in the middle of the cafeteria, but people don’t notice just yet because the lunch period has just started and plenty of others are still getting settled.

“Come sit with me, and I will.”

“I don’t want to sit with you. Just give me the card.”

“Not until you sit with me.”

The way your heartbeat picks up probably isn’t healthy, but you’re so frustrated that you’re ready to burst. You try playing his own game, seeing if embarrassing him will get him to comply.

“Why are you always following me around, huh?” Your voice cuts through most of the chatter and people quiet down to turn ans watch the two of you. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

A hush of low murmurs runs through the room and you can hear people giggling to themselves. Even though it was supposed to target him, you face still feels hot.

“Yeah, I do.”

The crowd erupts at his boldness. The same boys from the day of the assembly cheer him on. You stand there, shocked and humiliated. Being inexperienced when it came to crushes meant that you were completely unaware that all of Hoseok’s constant bothering might have been him trying to get you on his arm. Angry tears rapidly fill your waterline and you have to work hard to keep a straight face so you don’t completely break down in front of the student body. You keep your face turned towards him so as not to let anyone else know that you’re crying. Hoseok’s expression goes from proud of finally confessing to you to horrified at seeing you cry. The smile he had slips off immediately and is replaced with terror and he can only look up at Jin helplessly as he comes up behind you. The upperclassman holds out his hand, in which Hoseok places your ID. Jin silently takes your tray from you and lets you bury your face in his matching tracksuit top to hide from the gossiping onlookers.

“It’s okay,” Jin says softly. Hoseok only hears a pathetic high noise leave you before you’re back at your table, clutching at Jin with your shoulders heaving from embarrassment.

His friends tug on his sleeve until they get him to stumble blindly over to their table.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Jung.” One of the boys says, eying your table with a mean smile.

“How come you have two milks,” another asks before quickly stealing the brown carton marked ‘chocolate’ off his tray.

Thanks to a great deal of suppression, you hadn’t thought of that fateful day in the cafeteria for years. But it’s crystal clear in your memory now. Your hands are balled up under the water’s surface and they’re shaking with unresolved rage and pity for your 14 year-old self.

“I can explain that too.” He runs a hand through his hair, wetting it again and turning it a deep russet.

“Of course you can. Nothing is ever your fault.”

You swim away from him before stalking to the lounge. The sound of a second set of splashes lets you know that he’s following after you, but you don’t care. Stella has finished with her phone call by the time you make your way to her cubicle. You knock harshly on the glass door and several other life guards can sense something is wrong as they watch Hoseok come dripping over.

“What is it, kid?” Stella looks quickly between your thunderous expression and Hoseok’s defeated one.

“Something’s come up. I have to go. I just wanted to let you know so someone could cover my shift. Maybe I can come back some other time and cover a shift at the big pool.” You turn on your heel and leave, not even bothering to rinse off in the showers or pat yourself dry with a towel.

Stella and Hoseok watch you storm off. When the sound of your car’s engine starts, she turns to him.

“Explain yourself. Now.”

Usually, you would have your phone connected to the car’s speaker system with an aux cord to listen to some music while driving and enjoying the scenic small town roads. But bumping heads with Hoseok like old times calls for silence instead.

Rumbling in your stomach reminds you that you skipped breakfast to get to work on time—a bad habit that college had instilled in you. You decide to head to the grocery store and pick something fast up for lunch before heading home and taking an anger nap. Sleep probably won’t solve your problems, but your sure that about 8% of your irritation is from having gotten up so early after such a shitty night’s sleep.

Halfway to the grocery store you see your mother walking on the sidewalk, carrying recyclable shopping bags. You honk and pull over so she can ride with you.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

“Hi, mom."

The smile you give her is small, but genuine as her cheery mood lightens yours a bit. Being your mother, though, she can still tell something’s wrong as you drive through the narrow roads slower than normal. While playing hooky, no less.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re not at the country club for your first day of work or would you rather I talk to you about the weather?” You sigh, but decide that it’s better to rant instead of keeping everything bottled up.

“It’s nothing too big, really. There’s just a classmate at work that I—”

“Oh, yes! Little Jung Hoseok, right? Poor thing. I just saw his mother this morning while I was mowing the lawn and she stopped for a chat. She told me all about his-,” she stops to search for the right word, “his rough patch when he was younger.”

You chuckle dryly. “She told you about that?”

“Yes! She told me all about the hard time he had when he moved away. I can’t believe they bullied him out of the dance academy. All because they were jealous he was a presidential scholar invited from outside the district. Poor baby. Frankly, I can’t believe you knew and didn’t say anything all this time.”

The light changes from yellow to red faster than you’re ready for and you hit the brakes a little too hard as you process what your mother told you.

“I, uh, thought you were talking about something else. I didn’t know about that part.” You try to sound as casual as possible, knowing that with the right prompting tone, your mother will let out all the secrets like a floodgate. “What else did Mrs. Jung say?”

“She said that was the reason he came back to the neighborhood high school. Apparently, he would cry himself to sleep. Said he knew he couldn’t do the rest of the program at the high school, but they begged him to stay for middle school. And he did, but as soon as it was over he transferred back here.”

You pull into the parking lot slowly so you don’t have to devote too much attention to parking correctly and can listen to all the details.

“But it sounds like things didn’t get better right then. He fell in with some of those wild kids. I think one of them was that Kim Taehyung’s older brother. Gorgeous boy, ugh. What ever happened with him. Did he go to college?”

“Mom, wait. What about Hoseok?” You drag her by the arm into the lobby of the store, carrying the basket on your other arm.

“That’s right. Hoseok. What was I saying?” She turns to look at you after she throws some lettuce in the basket.

“You were saying he got involved with the wrong crowd?”

“Right, right. Well she said that when he came back during the summer he started hanging around with them. At first it didn’t seem so bad because she and his father were just glad he finally had friends and he didn’t seem to be misbehaving much. Just following them around because he was invited. You know, stuff like that.”

She hands you the grocery list while gesticulating with the flow of the story and you scramble to grab the items from the aisle you’re in while she wanders off. You have to chase her without spilling the contents of the basket.

“But once school started, she said he started acting out. He would get pulled out of class with those kids for being disruptive, and she said one particular student was always asking the teacher to separate them because he wouldn’t leave her alone.” You blush, realizing she’s describing you. “If it weren’t for the fact that most of the teachers knew what he was really like from elementary school, I’m sure they would have locked him in detention for the whole four years.”

You feel sad for Hoseok, but there’s also a pang of guilt forming in your gut. “Did she say why they didn’t? Punish him, I mean.”

“I think she said something about when they asked him why he kept bothering that student, he said he was just trying to get them to remember him. They felt bad because he was trying to get his friend back. So they just gave him warnings.”

“Well,” you say, trying to keep your voice sounding light and uninvolved as you play devil’s advocate, “Even if his intentions were good, shouldn’t the teacher’s have taken stricter action? Since he was making that girl uncomfortable and all?”

You mother stops her stroll through the frozen food aisle to turn back at you and fix you with an unreadable look.

“Normally, I would right there with you on that. But I remember little Hoseok when you all used to play on the rug in the living room. He would come in from outside and put the flowers he picked in your hair and tell you that you looked like the fairies in his books at home. Bullying can sure harden someone, but I don’t know if it can completely change who they are. At least, it doesn’t sound like that’s what happened here. Seeing as, once he came back, he made a beeline straight for his favorite person. Every chance he got.”

She plucks the list out of your grasp and steps forward to stand in front of you. When she lays a hand on your cheek, you can’t meet her gaze. Instead you look down at the way her loafers point directly towards your sneakers.

“How is Hoseok, by the way?” She turns her back to you and looks for the frozen bags of fruit that you always use in your smoothies.

“He seems a lot better,” you answer back honestly.

After arriving back at your house and helping your mom, your hands itch and you find yourself feeling restless. Talking things out with your mom would probably help, but you don’t want to feel small and fourteen again while you do it. Jin’s work schedule is still a mystery to you, but you guess that he’s the type of boss to come in most days, if not everyday, and drive over there to see if he has time for you.

Jin takes in the way your shoulders hunch as you walk into the door and immediately starts up on a warm drink he knows will cheer you up. It involves too much milk, cocoa powder, a disgusting amount of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. He has to pull back his coffee snob persona while he makes it. But the way you immediately run a finger through the mountain of cream, eating half of it in one breath, tells him that you’re not broken beyond repair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think that…maybe I was, I don’t know, too hard on Hoseok when we were in school?”

“Absolutely,” he says with zero hesitation. When your eyes widen with uncovered guilt and your mouth drops open, he’s quick to amend his statement. “I mean, you have every right to be mad about the times he put you on the spot. But I think there’s things you don’t know that would have made it so you both could have been friends in the end.”

“Are you talking about the bullying thing at his middle school?”

“What the—he told you?”

“No,” you whine and drop your head onto the table, covering your head with your arms. “I found out an hour ago. From my mom, of all people.”

“Wow. Moms really do know everything.”

“I know. It’s annoying.” Jin lets you sulk for a moment before steering the conversation back in the direction it needs to go.

“So I guess you know about how he kind of fell in with the wrong crew after coming back as a protective strategy, right?”

“Yeah, I mean…I wasn’t sure? But it seemed like that’s what that was because those kids really didn’t seem like his type of friends. I could tell even back then.” You play with the little cardboard sleeve around the still warm cup. Made from 100% biodegradable materials, it reads.

“Without giving too much away—because this isn’t really my secret to tell—let’s just say that they knew he wasn’t like them, but they were intrigued enough and wanted to test his loyalty. So to speak.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, gears turning. “What, like frat hazing or something?”

“Bingo,” Jin shoots finger guns at you. “That’s all I’m gonna give you, though. I’ve already said too much.” He reaches forward and takes a sip of your drink before immediately spitting it back into the cup. “It’s a wonder you still have functioning tastebuds. God, that’s disgusting. I can’t believe I created a monster.”

“That was my drink, asshole.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t pay good money for it.” He smirks and you roll your eyes before putting your phone and keys back in your pocket. “You’re really leaving because of the drink?”

“No, you narcissist. I’m going back to work.”

“Oh. Gonna go have a Nicholas Sparks moment in the middle of the kiddie pool?”

Confusion pinches at your features. “Who’s Nicholas Sparks?”

“No one,” he says quickly. “It’s just, uh, an old saying. Go to work.” He pushes you out of the door quickly before you can ask why he has his lying voice on.

The drive back to the pool feels completely different from the one you took this morning. You don’t feel happier, necessarily, but you feel less weighed down by some invisible and perplexing force. For the first time in 48 hours you feel like you can name your feelings a little more clearly. Like you made a mistake, but you also feel like you can fix it.

You make it to the lounge before Stella ambushes you with a firm grip around your arm dragging you away from the entrance to the kiddie pool.

“I see that you’re back and I’m not going to question you for leaving, because I’m pretty sure I know why now. You go out there and try and do your job, and I’ll understand if it’s tough for you. But if you pull something like leaving work because it’s hard being star-crossed lovers again, I will give your job to the next person who knows what a pool looks like. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” you breathe, not even bothering to correct her assumption that you and Hoseok are star-crossed lovers even though it’s not 100% true. The first step you take is a hesitant one, but when Stella doesn’t say anything, you head out to the pool.

Hoseok and some other lifeguard are seated in regular pool chairs because the pool is small enough and shallow enough that they can survey the layout and the tiny swimmers without the added height of the usual chairs. Normally, Hoseok would be chatting away with his shift partner while watching the children swim, but he’s silent as he watches with a hand squishing his cheek, deep in thought. His shift partner looks so bored out of their mind that when you tap their shoulder, they don’t even bother looking to see who is replacing them before running to the lounge. He turns when you’ve settled and his eyes grow impressively round.

“You came back?”

You look out to watch a mother sitting at the edge of the pool dunk her baby’s feet in the water. “I needed to talk to you. Or I guess listen and then talk.”

“So...you’ll let me explain?” Incredulity making his words come out slowly.

“Yes. But you should know that, uh, your mom told my mom some stuff. And my mom told me. And then Jin from the swim team told me some stuff.”

“How much do you know?”

“Just the vague things. I heard you had a hard time at the dance academy and that kind of sparked everything.”

“I should still probably start from the beginning, though.” You nod.

“I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to continue dance, but I didn’t want to leave all the people I met behind just because the school was willing to pay for my tuition. My mom thought it would be big and they convinced me that I could still have friends, while practicing, so I said okay.

But it turned out to be a boarding school thing, so I never got to see anyone from home and when I got there, the instructors treated me special. None of the students there liked that. If I’m being honest, they kicked the shit out of me a few times. And when they weren’t doing that they were putting nails in my dance shoes or locking me in supply closets and the teachers just wanted me to ‘use the pain to power my dancing’. My parents only found out because I started dropping weight really fast and wasn’t sleeping enough to be able to make it through the daily practices without fainting. Of course they were mad, but they also thought it was something that would eventually go away when the other kids grew up a little. They thought that it would stop when the high school program begun, but no 12 year-old getting bullied is that patient. I made them a promise that I would wait until the middle school program ended and then I would decide. But it just got worse as time passed.”

“Hoseok,” your voice breaks and you realize tears have been threatening to roll down your cheeks without even realizing, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I couldn’t have been that brave when I was 12.”

“Yeah, well, it was all thanks to you. I kept thinking that if I kept dancing, maybe I could get famous and come see you and make you proud. But obviously I didn’t make it that far.”

He gives you a bitter smile that’s so hollow and empty, you almost don’t recognize him. It’s then that you realize every smile he’d given you before this one was genuine. Even the ones he gave you when you when he was bothering you in school.

“W-what happened after the program ended?” It takes a great deal of effort to drag your eyes off his face and go back to looking after the swimmers, but you have no choice. Remembering that you’re at work, you wipe your arm across your eyes quickly so you can see clearly.

“I’d changed, I guess. I think if I stayed any longer I would be a completely different person. I got really dark and kind of mean. Sometimes I would surprise myself with the thoughts I would have, even at that age. Even when it was towards people who had done me wrong.”

“Is that why you started hanging out with those guys?”

He sighs, not proud of himself at the moment. “Yeah. I knew that high school would be just as hard for me if I came back with open wounds, so to speak. But I couldn’t stay and just keep rotting away. So I made myself a compromise. I would do what it took to get protection so I could eventually get better and not need it anymore. I figured...what better way to do that than to basically get myself a security team? I knew no one would mess with me if I could just find a way into that group.”

“I was wondering about that, to be honest. It didn’t make sense that did a kid like you would fall in with kids like them. Like even after all you went through, you still weren’t a bully like them.”

“Well, they told me that I would have to prove to them that I had the balls to be in the group. They said it had to be big. The first thing that came to mind was causing a disruption of some sort.  At an important place.”

“A place like the center stage of the annual new student assembly,” you whisper as the pieces of the puzzle connect. Anger automatically rises at the memory of the day, but you clamp down on it with a few careful breaths. He senses your automatic reaction and winces.

“I hope you know I’m not telling you all of this so you feel guilty, like you have to forgive me. If it makes you feel any better. I’ve never stopped hating myself for that day.”

You smile darkly. “That doesn’t really make me feel better. But tell me about it anyway.”

“When they realized I would be on stage that year, they wanted me to flip a girl’s uniform skirt while I was up there to prove that I could be one of them. I hated the idea. I couldn’t even fathom doing it but I said yes at the start because they wouldn’t budge on the idea.”

“That...makes sense. Why me, though?”

“It wasn’t logical. I didn’t think you would be up on stage, and when I saw you looking at me, I thought maybe it was worth a shot using you instead of some random girl. Somehow it seemed better to do it to someone I knew than with a stranger.”

“You’re right. Doesn’t sound logical at all,” your tone holds almost palpable annoyance. “But I can see why that would make sense when you’re stressed and 14. I guess.”

“But that’s also why I couldn’t go through with the whole skirt flipping thing once I realized it had to be you. I couldn’t do that either. I still remember how in fourth grade you would cried every time the teacher called on you and you didn’t have the answer. You hate being the center of attention.”

You hum, neither in agreement nor in disagreement. You’re not quite ready to speak as you consider the situation from his point of view.

“It was a huge risk. Both not pulling the whole prank and pulling the prank, but it was just enough that they let it slide and let me in. I figured that maybe I could explain it away to you right after, but I couldn’t find you.”

“That’s because I was in the bathroom. Crying my eyes out.”

“God. I’m so sorry. You have to at least know that.”

“No, I know you are.”

“I thought about laying low for a while and giving you some time to cool off, but then we had so many classes together. And I was still planning on giving you some space then, but I—” he trails off.

“Then you what?”

“Then I saw you up close for the first time in two years and I just couldn’t stay away,” he says quietly.

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you laying it on a little thick?” You roll your eyes and sneer, ignoring the way your heartbeat picked up at the tortured rasp in his words.

“I mean it!” He turns in his seat to you but you nod your head at the pool and then he’s turning back sheepishly. “The only reason I got through middle school was because I thought about seeing my best friend every day. It had been two years and I was so curious about you and how you’d changed. And I remember thinking how pretty you were. I felt like I was going crazy.”

“You should have just left me alone. I’m sure I would have gotten over it after a few days if you gave me some space and we could have talked civilly. Could have avoided all of…this,” you gesture with your hands to the tense air between you.

“I realized that a little too late, I think. When you didn’t want to talk to me—which was completely understandable and I deserved it—I was worried you hated me. So I thought that if I just acted like we were 12 again and everything was normal, maybe it would go back to being normal. I guess even though I hadn’t changed too much I did get really selfish.”

Part of you agrees that it was kind of selfish for Hoseok not to give you the space you needed. But another part of you thinks back to all the times he ‘bothered’ you and you have to ask yourself if you really minded it.

“Hoseok, I,” you lower your head so you don’t have to face his piercing gaze, “owe you an apology as well.”

“For what?”

“For snapping at you. Not the first few times,” you amend. “Not when the embarrassment was still fresh. But after those first few days passed and I was still angry. I wasn’t angry about the assembly then. I was angry because I wanted you to tell me sorry and why you would pull such a stupid prank on me. I think it was the waiting that made me resent you. Granted, I was waiting for an explanation you decided you didn’t want to give me in the end. An explanation that you owed me.”  

“I get that,” he says quietly. “Look, I was stupid not to realize you didn’t want to talk around it.”

“It’s not all your fault. If I had just told you that I wanted to talk it, things probably wouldn’t have gotten bad like they did. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

Your throat feels tight at the end of your confession as you think of all the times you must have unknowingly broken his young heart. Every time you’d denied him when he tried to carry your books. Or walk with you to your locker, to swim practice, to wait for your dad to pick you up at the end of the day. He still attempted all those things, but he did it with you turning to snap at him for doing them every step of the way. How he managed to smile brightly every morning is still a mystery to you. The good thing is that now your chest feels more open and light than it has in years. It feels good to finally understand everything and not hide your frustration. He must sense the new lightness because when he laughs this time its full of mirth, no bitterness weighing it down. You’re secretly grateful his laugh is still the low hiccuping sound it was when you were children.

“Hell, if you’d told me that you wanted the moon, I would have given it to you. If it would bring you—my friend back to me.”

Clearly, all the issues hadn’t been addressed just yet. There was still the fact that he developed a crush on you despite all your snapping during those four years. You feel awkward again, but now its because you don’t know how to address his old feelings for you. It would be a shame to let that fester between you as well, so you go straight for the jugular.

“What about the day—”

“In the cafeteria?” You nod.

He’s about to hunker down and explain when a two year old whose mother signed them in about an hour ago waddles up to your chairs wordlessly. You move to get up and try and guess which person to call from the sign in sheet but Hoseok simply scoops the child up and plops them in his lap before bouncing a foot so the child bounces with it. The kid laughs and claps, sprinkling some of the pool water dripping off them onto your arm. Despite the heavy conversation, the high, bubbly sound has both of you smiling on command. He removes his sunglasses and gives them to the child to play with.

“I was telling the truth. I knew you were trying to call my bluff, but I was being honest because it had been eating at me. Plus, I was mad, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you hated me. But I just—I couldn’t find it in myself to leave you alone at that point. And I knew. I knew you weren’t mad anymore about the assembly. I mean it had been years and I knew you didn’t care about it at that point.”

“Were you mad because I didn’t like you back?”

“No…I really don’t think so. I think I was just mad because you were becoming more and more amazing every day and I just sat there and watched. I couldn’t—couldn’t grow with you. You were pretty and athletic and studious and nice… when you wanted to be.”

You chuckle and let yourself look at him for a brief moment. He’s smiling at the child who has now decided to stand in his lap. Hoseok’s orange hair baffles the baby and a chubby hand goes to grab at the strands out of curiosity. He looks handsome, you can’t deny it.

In another timeline, in some alternate universe, maybe he could be your best friend and boyfriend today. Maybe seeing him interact with the little kids would have you blushing and thinking about a not too distant future together. Maybe you would be trying to earn money to save up for an apartment together in the city. Maybe this would be a regular day for the two of you and after work he would take you out to dinner and you’d buy him ice cream afterwards and then maybe after that you would…If it weren’t for everything that happened maybe you would…you would.

“What’s wrong?” Concern mars his delicate features before he looks over the child to see if the problem lies with them.

“Nothing! I was just thinking. I’m kind of ready for all this to be old news.”

His smile is slow and warm, but subdued. “You’re not just saying that because my stupid crush made you feel awkward right? It’s okay if it did. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you don’t like me like that.”

A protest rises in your throat, but you clamp it down before it can leave you. You’re not sure what you’re protesting.

“No. I just want to start over again,” you say after a beat.

You go home that day with a $40 dollar tip that technically wasn’t even intended for you.

Almost as soon as you both called for a truce in your near decade war, the child in Hoseok’s arms quickly started crying after realizing their mother was nowhere to be found. You deftly swept them into your arms and rocked them around the pool for the rest of your 90 minute shift, letting them whine quietly into your neck until they dozed off. While Hoseok herded the rest of the children and a few mothers out of the kiddie area, you managed to get the child to tell your their full name so you could narrow down the list of parents to call. Eventually you found the right person and handed the child back to Hoseok so he could distract them further by drawing shapes on his belly with sunscreen. The child’s mother came soon after you hung up and pulled out her wallet as soon as she saw Hoseok playing with her child. He thanked her for the tip and, once she left, went and curled the bills into the palm of your hand, saying “That was all you”.

The day closes off quietly. You pack up your things and go to clock out in the lounge, only to find no one else looks like they’re leaving despite the fact that both pools had closed 20 minutes prior. When you ask what everyone else’s plans are, Stella informs you that the staff often go to visit the people working in the kitchen to get a free meal in exchange for keeping the pool open for an hour after all the club members left. It was a nice little arrangement that took place every day during the summer.

“You’ll come, right? It’s free food directly from the chef and his team,” Stella says as she locks her cubicle office.

“I don’t know. Aren’t they sick of cooking after doing it all day?”

She huffs, “They cook after the last customer leaves anyway so they can eat too. It’s not that much trouble to cook for us. Especially when they get to take a swim after being on their feet all day.”

Hoseok steps behind you as people begin to file out of the lounge and head to the club restaurant. “You’re not avoiding me, are you? I thought we were friends again,” he teases good-naturedly.

“Of course not! I meant what I said, I just…” He looks down at you thoughtfully when you trail off. “My parents are probably waiting up for me, you know. They wanna know how my first day went and all that.” You say your goodbyes to everyone before heading back to the car knowing that your parents will be out late seeing a movie.

The next morning, you get there before Hoseok, but you have a key to open the gate. So you get ahead on getting the ropes set out on both pools. To kill the time still left before the kiddie pool opens, you try to remember the combination to your employee locker so you can try on the company suit you ordered. It fits well, and the red will go nicely with your skin as the summer progresses and your tan deepens. You do a little spin for the lifeguards laying around the lounge and they humor you and clap sleepily. Stella gives you a thumbs up, busy on the phone in her cubicle as she always is.

Boredom compels you to go and sit in your seat early. With the extra time still left you put on sunscreen. Very carefully. You put on a visor, then decide you don’t want to deal with it if it gets wet by chance. Then you put it back on again because why not. You’re starting to worry that you’ll have to do the shift on your own when Hoseok stumbles in with a few parents coming to sign their kids in to the pool.

“Sorry,” he throws himself into his seat.

An apologetic frown twists his mouth, but the plushness of his pout goes unnoticed because you’re focused on the smear of white near the hinge of his jaw. You reach out on instinct to wipe it off, but stop midway and gesture to it instead, reeling your hand back in slowly. He wipes at it roughly.

“Why were you late?”

“Got in a fight with my mom last night. She took the car keys from me so I had to take the bus here. Were you waiting out here long?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

He grimaces guiltily and looks up at the sky directly because there’s no nice, big beach umbrella to shield your heads from the heat like there is for the guards at the adult pool.

“Geez. That must have sucked in this heat.”

“Not really. The sun’s not at its strongest yet. Maybe in a few hours I’ll get mad at you,” you joke.

“Promise?”

“Nah. You thought I was mean in high school? You better hope you don’t want to see me mad now. Completely different animal.”

“I don’t know,” he drawls, a fox-like grin coming out. “I think, if anything, I might have developed a taste for it.”

“Eyes on the pool, horndog .” The banter elicits a small smile from you. It’s only small because you’re working to contain it. You can’t believe how easy it is to be around him when you’re not at each other’s throats.

The day passes by quickly in companionable silence until around noon, when the heat gets almost unbearable. Hoseok suggests then that you move to sit in the actual pool and watch from there. If it’s really just an excuse to watch your red-clad figure move in its entirety for a brief second, you can’t tell. The next string of shifts is spent with both of you seated in adjacent corners to let the water lap at you and calm your heated skin. Occasionally a child will make their way over to one of you and you’ll play with them for a bit until they get bored or their parents return. The sight of the babies climbing Hoseok to grab little fistfuls of wet, orange hair is heart warming. And the way he scoops them up to blow raspberries against their round cheeks makes something clench in your gut a little, too intense to be the fluttering wings of nervous butterflies. As a distraction you let one curious child attempt to chew on the whistle around your neck. Not like you’ll be using it anyway.

“You gonna duck out again and skip dinner today, too?”

His question comes out of nowhere and startles you from watching a young girl of around 4 years old try to doggie paddle on her back.

“I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t know anyone enough to be very good company while I’m there.”

“You don’t have to be a hostess, you can just sit there and eat.”

“But then it looks like I just came there for the food. I don’t want to seem antisocial.”

“You kind of are, though.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need the others to know.”

“You could just talk to me, you know. I mean…it would make you look like you’re there for the social activities in addition to the food. And it would make sense if you talked mainly with me since we’re shift partners and have a, uh, history.”

“I guess when you put it like that I don’t have much of a choice.” You’re not quite sulking, but the little waves you’re making with your hands under the water nearly knock a toddler over.

“No, you don’t. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Guess so.”

Once the sun sets, you get out of the pool first, worried that you’ll have permanently pruny fingers and toes if you sit there any longer. You don’t bother toweling off and instead get to work on stuffing the tips you made in the pocket of your hoodie. Hoseok locks the pool from the inside and jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the gathering of lifeguards and Stella.

The interior of the country club dining room is incredibly lavish and it feels like a crime to walk on the shining wood of the polished floors with some drugstore flip flops you bought and used as shower shoes for the last four years. There’s even a table that’s been freshly cleaned and set that the kitchen staff has laid out for you. A lanky boy who apparently goes by the name of Namjoon comes around to take everyone’s orders and you stiffen when you realize you don’t know the menu.

“What are you getting,” you hiss nearly into Hoseok’s armpit as you try to remain calm. Namjoon is leisurely taking people’s orders and chatting people up, but you want to be ready when he gets to your end of the table.

“I’m getting the pork cutlets,” he whispers back, to which you hum thoughtfully. Meat seemed like a basic dish to get at such a fine establishment. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “You might like their shrimp tacos. Still like seafood, right?”

“Y-yeah, I do.” He smiles to himself, proud that he still remembers all these little things about you. “I don’t know which to get. Shit.”

He chuckles at your frantic tone. “There’s no need to panic. I’lll let you have some of mine if you feel like you’re missing out.”

“Thanks,” you let out a sigh, head slumping to the side and nudging his arm lightly in the process.

You tell yourself that if it weren’t for the way the sun zapped your energy you would be sitting up properly. And you do once Namjoon comes around to your end of the table. You stutter out that you’d like the shrimp tacos and when he responds that there’s only trout left, you panic and say that’s fine instead of getting something you know will be good. Like pork cutlets.

“Calm down, I can feel you overthinking things from there,” he whispers after Namjoon returns to the kitchen with the table’s orders.

“Screw you. I’m not overthinking.” You burrow further into your artfully upholstered chair and look away from him.

He fixes you with a stare that tells you he doesn’t believe that lie for a second. “Whatever. Have a drink and stop stressing.”

You’re grateful as the person on your right offers to fill your cup with wine. It’s red wine, but you can’t complain because its’ free and you’re not really drinking much anyway seeing as you’re still in possession of your dad’s car as a means of getting home. However, due to unforeseen circumstances—that is due to the fact that you actually don’t like trout—you follow the half taco you eat with more wine to fill your stomach. Hoseok raises an eyebrow at your wine consumption, but doesn’t say anything as he carves out a healthy portion of one of his cutlets and plops it onto your plate. He follows it with generous spoonfuls of the rice and vegetables that came along with his dish to make sure your stomach is lined with a barrier if you drink more. And much to both his and your chagrin, you do drink more wine.

Once everyone has finished eating, you pour out of your seat to follow the kitchen staff and lifeguards out to the pool once more. Before you came in, there was still light in the sky that came from the last strong rays of setting sun, bathing everything in pink and orange. Now, the sun has set and everything is bathed in blue; even the lights lining the inside of the larger pool that are usually reserved for night events thrown by the country club glow a soft, pale blue.

 Although you’re tipsy, you’re still somewhat practical, so you opt to sit by a well-lit corner and dip your feet in the water. It’s too cold and you’re too out of it to be able to swim safely or comfortably. For the few moments that you’re alone, you find peace in watching the chefs and waitstaff who’ve now changed into their swim attire frolic in the water. Someone brought a beachball and it’s being bounced around the pool. It takes all of your concentration and hand/eye coordination but you manage to give a successful volleyball inspired hit and keep the ball’s momentum. Hoseok’s feet appear next to you a beat later.

“Did you see that? That was a good spike, right?” You look up at him standing next to you. “You look like the pillsbury dough boy from this angle,” you say, prompting him to sit down.

“Is that something you’re into?” He smiles at your profile. The dim lighting does wonders for your features and he’s secretly glad he gets to see you in what he thinks may be a rare state.

“I like bread, but not that much.” He snorts at your joke.

You turn to look at him as best you can. This is the first time in a short while that you’ve gotten to really take a good look at him since you’re whole job is about looking away from him and at the children in the kiddie pool. If you squint, you can kind of see what he used to look like still there, under the surface. His cheeks were a bit rounder and softer, even when you were seniors in high school and technically ‘adults’. His hair was different too. For the majority of high school it was dark and laid flat against his foreheard. While it didn’t look bad, it didn’t do anything to flatter his face. It wasn’t until the end when he started experimenting with product and color. Even when you were younger and hated him, you were still able to appreciate the day he came into class during one winter morning of junior year with it parted and swooped messily off his forehead and dyed a warm brown with golden highlights. You and 30 other classmates had appreciated that day very much. It suited him and the brooding badboy thing he had going on.

“Thanks,” he says, surprise coloring his voice.

“W-what?”

“I didn’t know you liked the brown so much.”

Sober-you would have been having a conniption at the idea that Hoseok might get even the slightest whiff of your teeny-tiny attraction for him. The wine running in your veins has you relaxed enough to just concede the compliment to him, but steer the subject away from you.

“What made you dye it red?”

“Ehh, it was just a kind of coverup for a bad blond dye job my ex gave me last year.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Why? Do you think I should I dye it brown again?” You pause and look him over, trying to imagine the color from before on him now.

“No. The way you are now is fine.”

Your comment makes him sit back, a little stunned. When he looks back at you, you’re eyes are drifting closed. He’s pretty sure you drove yourself, so he lifts your arm and helps you stand up before hobbling over to Stella to let her know that he’s going to take you home.

“Alright,” she says, clearly enjoying her game of Marco Polo with the head chef. “But you had better get her home in a condition no worse than the one she’s in right now. And don’t think I won’t ask her tomorrow what she remembers happening after she left here, Jung.”

All he can do is salute her as your head lolls forward and you try to go back to being less upright.

Taking you home is more effort than he thought it would be. First, it takes a while to get you awake again so he can tell you he’s taking you home and ask you where your stuff is. He manages to get your locker open but only after waking you several times to get each number of the combination because you were too sleepy to give it to him in full. Then, he has to get you in the car without looking like he’s kidnapping you because at that point he’s carrying your dead weight. Just heaving you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry would be easier, but he’s worried you’ll throw up down his back. Once you’re in the car, the hardest part is over. From there it’s just pestering you again to get your seatbelt on and have you remind him of your parents’ address. Another bolt of pride shoots through him when you sleepily mumble the street and house number and it’s what he thought. After that it’s pretty smooth sailing. He finds your house with ease, the front light illuminating the number and the doorway.

Your mother comes to the door, father wandering in behind her to see why you’re coming in so late. When they see a pair of silhouettes walk across the lawn and up to the door, they quickly come out to see what’s going on. Your dad realizes you’re the one slumped over and moves quickly to take you off the stranger’s arm. Soon he realizes that the stranger is Jung Hoseok, the boy his only child used to play with.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

“Nothing bad. There’s just dinner for the lifeguards after the pool closes everyday and I think she filled up on wine instead of her food. I worried about her so I just drove her home. I hope that’s okay.”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but I’m glad it was you and not someone with an ulterior motive,” your father says with a pointed look at him.

Your mother holds the door open and looks on in sympathy at your clammy, sleepy face and ushers your father inside before ushering Hoseok in as well. As much as he would like to be able to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom like he used to when you were small, your father’s back can’t handle that much rigor and he opts for trying to lay you out onto the couch. He accidentally drops you on your face, but it’s not a steep drop and the cushions break your fall, so he just makes sure you’re facing to the side with a foot on the floor to keep you from rolling off and hurting yourself or choking on your vomit. He moves into the kitchen to find his wife pouring Hoseok a glass of water.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing our baby home safely, Hoseok. You know, I was just thinking about you yesterday.”

“Is that so?” He politely sips at the water, very uncomfortable.

“Yes. I saw your mother recently. We were talking about how both of our nests have stopped being empty for the summer,” she laughs.

“Yeah, she told me she saw you.”

“It’s been a while, son,” your father says as he goes to stand next to your mother. Both of them pin Hoseok with stares filled with different emotions.

“Oh, it really has. You’re grown into such a handsome man. I suppose it makes sense, since you were such a beautiful boy.” All he can do is chuckle awkwardly before downing the last bit of water.

“Well, I better get going. I have to get up early to make it to the pool on time. It was nice to see you all.”

“It was nice to see you too, sweetie.” Your mother hands your father the car keys. “Drive Hosoek home, honey?”

“Sure.”

“It’s really no trouble, I was just gonna walk. I don’t live that far away.” His eyes widen at the thought of having to spend more making awkward small-talk with your parents and no way of escaping.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose any more sleep than you already have. I’ll drive you and you can do us a favor and swing by and pick up our baby, alright? She probably won’t be fit to drive that day, and it’ll be an opportunity for me to drive my wife to her doctor’s appointment.”

He stutters a bit, looking for a way out that won’t offend anyone, before giving up. “Okay. Thank you, sir.”

“No problem, son.”

To say that the morning following Hoseok driving you home is the worst mornings of your life is probably an exaggeration, but it’s most likely a slight one. First, you had wake up with a bit of a hangover, which wouldn’t be so bad if you could get more time to sleep it off. Instead, you’re forced to roll off the bed at the sound of your alarm and shower. Your stomach is killing you, but you know you can’t skip breakfast and still make it through a whole day of sitting in the sun. The worst part of the morning by far is dragging yourself downstairs only to find Hoseok drinking coffee with your mother at the kitchen table.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you shuffling down the stairs looking half dead, but he’d much rather deal with you and your hangover than sit there and listen to your mom make thinly veiled attempts at asking him if he’d confessed to you yet. Your mother ushers both of you out the door with a fruit cup and spoon and you barely have any time to process the situation.

Five minutes into the drive to the pool is enough time for the cool early morning air and periwinkle skyline for you to wake up and take back the reigns from your lizard brain.

“Why were you in my house?” You poke a soft piece of syrup covered peach with your spoon and lay back in your seat. Mrs. Jung’s car is newer than your father’s so you don’t have to wind a crank to get the seat to recline.

“Do you remember last night?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Well, that’s why.” You pout for a minute, embarrassed that Hoseok saw you in such a state even though you were only a little past tipsy.

“Did my parents put you up to this?”

“Absolutely. As much as I’d like to be able to get you to voluntarily ride around with me, it’s not worth having your dad drive me home and spending the morning with your mom.” You snort at his candid tone. “No offense to your parents. They’re wonderful people.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What did my mom say to you?”

“Nothing much. She asked me how college was and if I had a job lined up. Asked me if I had a girlfriend. Asked me if you had a secret boyfriend. Then asked me why I hadn’t asked you out yet. You know. The usual.”

“Are you serious?” The pieces of fruit you had been half-heartedly munching on and get stuck in your windpipe. It takes a couple firm pats on the back from Hoseok but soon you’re eyes stop watering and you are able to look at him gravely. “Did she really ask you that?”

“She did,” he smiles self-deprecatingly, but it’s still a warm smile.

“W-what did you tell her?” At the sound of your quiet inquiry his expression sombers up quickly.

“Don’t worry. I just told her I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, though.”

“Well, I’m sure you would be if I was chasing you around like I used to.”

“Things are different now,” is all you can say without your face heating up too much.

He chances a look at you and the way you fiddle with your hoodie reminds him of the way you played with the hem of your school uniform whenever you were talking with guys you liked. After a few deep breaths, he decides to take a risk. The little booth where the parking lot managers sits to monitor employee traffic is visible at the end of the street once Hoseok drives past the country club gates. He drives straight past the attendant because he has an employee sticker on his car window. There’s a vacant spot in the far corner of the lot that he takes before parking the car so he can turn to face you.

“How are things different?”

You find it hard not to feel warm under Hoseok’s stare. Though it’s not the first time you’ve been the object of his hungry gaze, all the previous times were more diluted because he was just a young boy searching for just ounce of the comfort he once found in you as his childhood best friend. Those were the days where you were mad at him and could easily deflect the power of his stare with your own anger. Now, though, the air has been cleared, the slate wiped clean. He’s no longer a 14 year-old boy hoping you’ll forgive him. He’s 23 and wants nothing more than to strip you of all your pretenses and get as close to you as possible simply because he wants to be able to feel all you can offer and give you all you’ll accept.

When you can’t meet his eyes or answer him, he squares his jaw and leans into your space. He’s tired of this game of cat and mouse. Maybe it’s because he couldn’t sit back and pretend he didn’t still feel anything for you. Maybe it’s because he knows that in this situation he’s not really a cat or a mouse. He feels more like a beast with a strange amount of patience. But everyone knows patience has to run out sometime. Slowly, he brings a gentle hand to your chin and lifts your gaze towards his.

“Why are things different now?”

“Because…you don’t make me uncomfortable anymore,” you say, knowing that you’re being overly cowardly and vague.

He knows the desperation is clear in his voice, but he really thinks he’s been correctly reading the room and the way you look at him when you think he can’t see. He just wants confirmation. “Why are you comfortable now?”

“It’s not that I’m exactly comfortable with you,” you trail off looking for the right phrase. “I still feel like my whole body is tensed up when I’m around you.”

“Oh,” he says, trying to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment.

“But I like it.”

His head snaps up and suddenly he’s laughing. It sounds a bit too high and crazed to be anything other than manic laughter. You watch his shoulders shake and his hands rake through his hair before he sighs and turns to smile at you.

“Can I kiss you,” he blurts out. The surprised look on your face must be comical because he laughs more naturally this time before leaning over the center console to pin you to your seat with a softer, molten look. “Can I?”

Somewhere in the back of your head, a part of you wonders if kissing in the car is even allowed before 10 am, but you figure that the only way to know is to try. You hum affirmatively, not trusting your voice, but he shakes his head at you and retracts a little.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Are you happy now,” you huff. He rewards your half-effort with a warm hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, but doesn’t move any closer.

“‘Yes’ what?” His smile is dark and teasing. Almost mean.

“For fuck’s sake, Jung, just kiss me.” It’s too early for teasing and your hands come up to scrunch in the fabric of the front of his t-shirt like they have a mind of their own.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before swooping in and crushing his lips to yours.

Kissing Jung Hoseok is not at all like you pictured it. Then again, you’d spent the last 8 years pushing away the mere possibility that it could happen, so it’s not surprising that he passes all your expectations given that you had none. That’s not to say that your standards are super low and that he’s just a mediocre kisser, because he’s most certainly not. The moment your eyes close, his lips caress yours slowly and firmly. He opens your mouth with a few well-timed nips to your lower lip followed, wetting your entrance with a subtle swipes of his tongue. As he eases you open, your hands move to feel his torso and map out the planes and dips of his defined arms and toned chest. The hot glide of his tongue against yours has you reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. It feels slightly damp with the shower he must have taken before coming to pick you up and you scrape your nails lightly against his scalp as you comb through the russet waves. He groans into your mouth and presses forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he turns his head to kiss you more deeply. From there, you can’t stop your hands from roaming up his arms, his sides, his back. Eventually you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck and letting one hand wriggle under the collar of his shirt so you can rest your palm against the smooth skin of his back.

The feeling of your hand on his bare skin feels hot like a brand and pushes him to work harder to draw moans from you. Soft sounds of breathing and your lips meeting again and again fill the car. The cooler temperature of the outside morning air means that the car starts to fog up quickly. His free arm doesn’t stop moving. First he wraps it around your waist, then strokes your thigh before digging his fingers into the meat of it. Finally he settles on cupping your face with both hands to bring you impossibly closer as he ravishes your mouth. You let out a long breath that ends in a hitch when he decides to test out sucking kisses onto the column of your neck. His name leaves your mouth in a breathy sigh and suddenly he’s cursing and pulling back.

He looks fucked out with his hair a coppery mess from your fingers running through it, shiny, swollen lips, and a dreamy expression on his face. You drink in the picturesque curves of his profile, especially admiring the slope of his boyish smile as he grins to himself with his chest heaving. The neon numbers on the digital clock in the dashboard let you know that you’re 10 minutes behind schedule to opening up the kiddie pool.

“We’re late,” you mumble when you’ve caught your breath and the windshield isn’t so foggy anymore.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, why don’t you, uh, go in first, okay?”

He’s still smiling but he’s hunching over himself a little strangely, hands resting unnaturally splayed out in his lap. You’re suspicious, but nod and take your bag with you out the car to go get ready for the start of the shift. Stella and the other lifeguards are standing by the tiny coffee machine in the lounge when you come in, your hair is still a bit of a mess. Stella gives you a knowing smile after giving you a once over.

“Glad to have you back,” her voice lilts and a couple people sticker.

“Uh, what do you mean? I didn’t go anywhere.” Trying not to not look guilty proves difficult when you can’t even manage a normal smile and can only give something that’s 80% teeth.

“Easy, lightweight,” one guard says, “We just didn’t think you’d make it here after how gone you were yesterday. Much less on time for your morning set-up.”

“I’m not a lightweight, I just didn’t end up eating any of my dinner,” you sniff, but relax the set of your shoulders a bit once you realize they’re snickering about your tipsy antics from the night before and not your amorous behavior in the parking lot just now.

Hoseok shows up while you’re in the middle of setup and doesn’t say much as he helps you with the rest of it. The kiddie pool opens like it normally does at 8am and young swimmers trickle in. Some more frequent guests waddle over to your chairs to show off their new floaties or to ask if you live at the pool. Your shift partner is still unnervingly quiet for the first few hours, not even complaining when the temperature steadily increases to an annoying high. He still doesn’t say anything as you move your safety equipment to the edge of the pool so you can both dip into the shallow water for relief. Quickly, you realize that you’re rather fond of his talkative nature and snap as soon as the toddler that was repeatedly jumping into his arms gets picked up by the last parent and you can break for lunch. You say a silent goodbye to your pride and finally turn to him once the gate to the kiddie pool is closed.

“It’s really warm, huh?”

His neutral expression breaks into a private smile to himself. “Yeah, I suppose it is. You’re gonna eat lunch right?”

“Yeah,” you say, still frowning at his short answers as you move to get up from the pool wall.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get yours too. We can just eat out here.”

You nod for lack of anything better to say. When he comes back with one sac you remember that you didn’t pack a lunch for yourself like you normally would the night before work. He sits next to you and opens his lunchbox silently.

“I forgot to bring a lunch. I’m gonna head to the tip jar and then run to the vending machine really quick.”

“No need,” he says, “Your mom packed this for you this morning and gave it to me.”

He hands you a plastic bag out of his own larger container before opening a hand-made sandwich and chowing down. You open the bag cautiously, not expecting the normal salad that you pack yourself usually. Instead, you find something that may be exactly the same lunch she used to pack you when you were in elementary school.

“I guess this is punishment for getting too drunk to take myself home,” you mutter down at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carrot sticks.

He peers into your bag.“What’s wrong with carrot sticks,” he pouts and holds his own container of carrot sticks and hummus.

“At least you had the decency to pack hummus. She thinks I still eat the same way I did when I was 8.”

“I’ll trade you for your fruit punch.”

“What are you offering,” you give him the side-eye of a seasoned businesswoman.

“Just your favorite,” he shrugs, pulling out a small cardboard carton of chocolate milk. Even at your age, you still love chocolate milk, though you don’t indulge in it often. “Bet you haven’t seen this since we were kids.”

You nod frantically, remembering how you used to drink it whenever you could if there wasn’t a race that day. “Deal.” you say, tossing the tiny bottle of fruit punch and snatching the milk like he might not keep his promise.

The two of you give each other a look and break down into laughter at your childish behavior.

“Just like old times.” Your voice and eyes are soft as you watch him open the fruit punch with a little difficulty. Huffing, you nudge his hands out of the way before snapping the no-spill opening so he can drink from it with one hand.

“Almost.” He inches his face toward yours until you can almost count his eyelashes. His hand comes to run up your arm and lay on your shoulder blade, trying to get you closer.

You meet him halfway, turning a bit awkwardly at the waist so you can wrap your arms around him. If you’re being honest, you were worried that he was being so quiet because he regretted kissing you in the car and was trying to think of a way to take it back. But it’s clear that’s not the case from the way he coaxes your lips open with his own so he can lick into your mouth with a slickness that has your face heating. The reminder that your coworkers could see you at any moment has you beginning to pull away, but he knows you too well to let you escape.

“No one’s gonna see,” he whispers against your mouth before going back in to work your lips. Your eyes flutter shut again and the worries seem to dissolve a little.

“What if they do, though?” Somehow one of your hands always makes it back to his hair and you give it a slight tug when he sucks lightly on your earlobe. “This is unprofessional.”

“Yeah, it is.” He grins but still pulls back after pressing a somewhat chaste kiss on your frowning lips once and then twice.

“I haven’t even touched my lunch and the break is almost over,” you mumble. “Good thing there’s dinner after the last shift.”

“Don’t get drunk again,” he tosses his head back at his joke and you can only glare at him as you steal some hummus.

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. You and Hoseok manage to keep your hands off each other during dinner. And surprisingly during the ride he gives you home, which quickly becomes a daily routine. Your parents gave you a knowing look when you told them why you would no longer need to borrow the car to get to work, but they didn’t say anything. 

The summer passes by quickly and slowly. Quickly because you have fun talking with Hoseok and time seemingly passes by faster when he’s making you laugh or smile while he plays with the babies. Slowly because he still manages to find moments to get in your face and steal a few kisses that seem to halt time itself. It seems like you blinked and then there were only two more weeks left of work at the pool left.

There’s about an hour before the pool closes and Hoseok has migrated over to a farther corner of the pool to engage little Jungkook, a pool regular who keeps gazing up at him with hero-worship in his eyes. You let yourself look over for a brief second before continuing your perusal of the other swimmers to make sure no one needs help. Sudden splashing gets your attention and Jungkook comes running into your field of view.

“What’s the matter? Did you drop your goggles again?” You let him take your hand, though you have to crouch so he can reach it.

“Lifeguard Hoseok is playing dead and it’s scary,” he looks up at you with big eyes and brings you to where Hoseok is managing to float on his back despite the low level of the pool water.

“Hoseok,” you put on an admonishing tone for Jungkook, “Are you playing dead and scaring the swimmers?”

He cracks an eye open at the sound of your voice and looks up at you. “Actually, I’m drowning. Please save me.” Jungkook watches him close his eyes again and stick out his tongue, imitating a body.

“He keeps doing that scary face. Is he dead?” Jungkook squeezes your hand and you kneel down so that you can look him in the eye.

“No, he’s just pretending.”

“Make him open his eyes, then.” You raise an eyebrow and he tacks on a ‘please, Ms. Lifeguard’.

“Hoseok,” you stage-whisper to appease Jungkook, who’s looking on with distress in his eyes, “You need to wake up. You’re making your friend here nervous about you.”

“Then you should save me so I can wake up. Right, Jungkook?”

“Y-yeah. Give him PPR to wake him up!”

“Yeah! Give me that sweet PPR, please.”

You roll your eyes. Clearly Hoseok is childish enough to know how to get actual children on his side. To make sure no funny business happens, you treat it like the training sessions you’ve attended and pinch his nose closed. His eyes crack open to glare at you but stay closed for the most part like a good faker. You lower your head and place a chaste kiss on Hoseok’s waiting mouth. He springs up and gasps like all the life force he lost has entered back into his body all at once. His hands come out to clutch you to him in a fierce hug.

“Thank you for saving me, Ms. Lifeguard.” He shouts into your hair, soaking your top half despite the fact that you’d managed to keep your hair dry all day until this point. “Look, Jungkook, she saved me.”

Jungkook is clearly smarter than Hosoek thinks and pouts at the two of you. “Hey! You weren’t really sleeping, you were just pretending so you could get a kiss!”

“How did you know,” your mouth drops open and a genuine laugh tumbles out. Jungkook attempts to cross his little arms but the floaties he’s wearing get in the way.

“Because my Dada always does it to trick my Papa when we go to the beach.”

“I’m sorry Hoseok tried to trick you, Jungkook. But, I hope that you’ll still listen when people tell you they’re hurting because it might be true next time.”

He nods and you reach up to ruffle his dark hair. He skips off to go play and you make sure no one is looking before you break the no-splashing rule and send a wave up at Hoseok’s face.

“What the hell was that?”

“What? I’m bored. I just wanted to play,” he pouts at you.

“Play later. We still have 45 minutes of work left.”

“Will you play with me,” he asks in your ear. You shiver a little at the feeling of his breath on your neck but push him away.

“Fine, but later. I’m not gonna get caught goofing off and lose this job. I really need it.”

“Did you not have a job lined up after school ended?” He sits down for real and adjusts his visor to shield his eyes.

“No. Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m start working at a JYP Banks city branch this fall.”

“Oh my god, ew. Were you an econ major?”

It’s hard to imagine Hoseok as one of the boys who used too much hair gel, smoked too much weed on the weekends, and wore suits to their business and math classes on your former campus.

“Yeah, why not? I’m good at math.”

“Since when,” your nose wrinkles.

“Since high school. It was one of the only classes I always had without you. So I actually ended up paying attention.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he gently tweaks your side, “You weren’t there at the board with your too-small uniform skirt for me to stare at.”

“Too small? Those uniforms were specially ordered for each student, asshole.”

“That doesn’t mean anything if you were a late bloomer and got the measurements taken when you were 13 and built like a grade-schooler.”

Your mouth gapes open and there’s a lot to unpack in that statement. The fact that he called you out for being flat as a board at the end of middle school. The fact that he called you out for not suddenly having boobs and ass when you were 15 like everyone else. The fact that he had bee paying attention to you well before puberty hit you like a truck in senior year, unlike other guys.

“I’m not a stick now, though,” you say and sit up a bit straighter to confirm to yourself that no one would confuse you for a child with your figure now.

“Nope,” he agrees, “You’re certainly not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Again with this?”

“We can’t all have the same metabolism that we’ve had since we were teenagers. You were skinny too, if I recall.”

“Yeah and there’s nothing wrong with that. But that old string-bean Hoseok is gone.” He’s half joking, half serious as he brings up a tanned arm to flex, showing off a surprising sized bicep. You reach out and squeeze the swell of firm muscle. “That’s gym and dance gains right there, baby.”

“You’re an idiot,” you toss over your shoulder fondly as the final few parents and children leave the pool.

The two of you putter around and clean up the pool so its ready for closing. Hoseok goes ahead while you stay back to make sure none of the kids left any precious toys or swim gear behind. When you enter the lounge, the last few lifeguards are heading out towards the restaurant employee entrance while Hoseok waves to them.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know.”

Carefully you turn the sticky lock on your locker, trying angrily to get it open so you can put your things away and go eat. One of the chefs told you the day before that the final shipment of mango for the summer was coming and you’d be damned if someone else took some of the portions they promised to save for you.

“You said you’d play with me,” his voice is low as he presses against you. You let him close your locker for you and turn to give him a placating kiss.

“What about food?” He presses wet kisses along the skin of your shoulder before sliding the strap of your suit down with his teeth. His hand runs a course  down to your ass. His fingers toy with the elastic hem of your one-piece, cheekily catching against the skin there underneath.

He lifts hooded eyes up to yours. “Are you hungry right now?”

“Maybe not now,” you say as you swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones, “But I would be by the time that they finished taking people’s orders. That’s not a super long time.”

“So maybe we should just get food later.” His tone is reasonable and the way he’s pressing against you is distracting. If you shift the right way, you can feel him through his shorts.

“Where are we even gonna go?”

“It turns out,” he takes you by the hand and leads you through the other exit in the lounge, “There isn’t a view of the adult pool from the windows in the dining area. We’re alone here.”

He hops into the water, dunking his head under before coming up right after. His hands slick back his hair and you’re suddenly disappointed that he only wanted to swim. You go in after him, electing to do a lap or two to stretch your limbs after hours in a chair. When you come back up he claps.

“Nice form,” he says as you paddle over.

“I’m missing mangos for this.”

“Don’t worry, I told them to save some for you. You’ve been talking about them all day.”

You beam at him, disappointment appeased now that you’re still going to get your fruit. He pats the wall of the shallow end of the pool.

“Come sit.”

You swim over and hoist yourself up on the edge. He wades up to the edge to rest his hands on your thighs. The smile on his face is wide and brilliant as he looks up at you and you can’t help but card your fingers through his hair. The red is fading and you’re a bit sad to see it go.

“Are you gonna dye it back again or are you gonna let it grow out for work?”

“Yeah, I think the red might have to go. But I might be able to do brown. Or even blond if it’s done well. What do you think,” he asks, laying his cheek on your knee.

“It’s up to you, I mean. I won’t even be there to see it, so you might as well do what’s best for the office.”

With the end of the summer nearing, what would happen between you two became a common topic of conversation. But the conversations never get too far because you still haven’t defined what it was that you are to each other. The idea of having split after all that you’ve been through, including everything before finding one another at the pool, makes your stomach feel cold and empty. This isn’t your average summer whirlwind and you both know that. But neither of you wants to be the one to end the fun.

“Who knows. You might be in the city for work. Or you could come down on the weekends. Or I could come up.” He looks up at you, eyes swimming in some emotion you can’t name. “I just don’t want to stop seeing you.”

“Can we not do this right now? It’s depressing and there’s still a little while left, anyway.”

“Okay.”

He nuzzles into the flesh of your thigh, mouthing against it even when your leg jumps up against the ticklish sensation. Leaning back, you watch him pepper your thighs with kisses in earnest. The higher up he moves, the slower they get until he’s only a few inches away from your core and your arms are protesting from holding yourself up so you can watch. You endure it because the sight of the faded auburn of his hair moving as he switches to the other knee and works his up is enticing in and of itself. His hands come to your hips and move you closer to the edge, his nose brushing against the hem of your suit.

“Here? Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” His voice is muffled from where his mouth moves to suck a bruise high up on your inner thigh. “Don’t you think it’s a little fun? The idea that someone could see?”

“I think mini-golf is fun. Grocery shopping is also pretty—shit,” you lose your train of thought as he presses the flat of his tongue hard against the the crotch of your suit. Your thighs clamp shut on either side of him and you whip your head around to check your surroundings.

“Will you relax, please? The cleaning crew doesn’t come until after 9 and they’ll be in there for at least an hour.”

“But I smell like the pool.”

“I do too. Don’t worry, baby.” He sucks a kiss onto the apex of your thighs before looking up at you through dark lashes. “Is this okay?”

You stutter for a moment before steadying yourself once more and nodding. He uses one hand to creep up to the singular strap holding your suit up and slides it down to get access to your breasts. He kneads a globe in his hand before plucking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. The other hand rubs at you over your suit with his thumb circling around what he hopes is your clit. Eventually the friction gets you swollen enough that he can better locate it. Dampness begins to pool at your center, forming a dark spot on your suit as you cant your hips up in time with the figure eights he rubs onto you. The wet material of your suit begins to bother you and you slide the top half down further, the evening air causing your nipples to pebble. With the suit now lax, he slides the crotch to the side and inhales deeply. The scent of chlorine is there, but he can still make out your natural scent underneath. Your arousal glistens subtly in the dim light and when he runs a finger through the slick to taste, you groan.

“What’s taking you so long? Put your face in it already.”

“You just want me to hurry up so we don’t get caught.”

“Maybe. But I want you to eat me out too.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He dives in quickly, collecting all the arousal he can on his tongue. Licking from your entrance up to the top, he makes sure to hollow his cheeks, and sucks your clit into his mouth. Your leg kicks out to the side of him, splashing water up quietly. Pulling back with a smack, he maneuvers both your thighs over the broad expanse of his shoulders and moves in closer. He laughs when you whine for him puts his mouth back on you.

“Is it good so far,” he asks, carefully sliding a slender finger into you.

“Mmm, it’s good. Add another finger, I can handle it.” He adds another finger and scissors them after a beat.

“You wanna feel stretched, baby?” You bite you lip, arms quivering until you have to lie on your back. “I bet you’d rather take my dick, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh my god, I want it so bad.” He twitches and hardens further as he watches you reach down to fondle both your breasts roughly.

“You’d take my dick so well, I know it. I wish I could have you bouncing on me so I could play with your tits myself. But you keep playing with them and imagine those are my hands.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, “I need more. Need your mouth again too.”

Determined to make you cum hard, he adds a third finger and presses down on your pelvic floor before thrusting them into you over and over, his wrist twisting sinuously. Once you start squelching from a sudden onslaught of wetness, he assaults your clit again. With the body of his tongue, he licks shapes onto your core. A particularly hard flick of his tongue as you gasping out, back arching and pushing into his face. The change in angle causes his fingers to press harder into the spongey patch on your walls.

“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop. Please!”

He crooks his fingers and grinds them into the spot as best he can while still scissoring his fingers so you feel full. You’re a sight to behold in front of him. Your legs part to reveal the your swollen and slick center. Your back arches beautifully and your breasts spill over your suit as you shudder through the orgasm he rips out of you. He withdraws his fingers carefully and marvels at the crystalline strands that stretch between his spread fingers. He sucks them into his mouth one by one with the other hand petting your thigh comfortingly.

“How do you feel about burgers?”

Hoseok can’t stop staring at the dewy glow on your skin and his burger sits unwrapped but unbitten as he watches you pluck a curly fry from the pile in the center of the table. Your eyes seem brighter and while he supposes that having an orgasm does that to a person, but he can’t help the swell of pride that rises up when he thinks that he had something to do with it.

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” you pick up a fry and bring it to his lips. “Aren’t you hungry?”

His lip graze your fingers slightly when you feed him the fry. “I already ate, remember?” His wry grin makes your heart flutter a bit.

“Well, you need your strength.” When his forehead crinkles in confusion, you clarify, “For dessert.”

“Look if you want it, I’ll give it to you, baby.” 

It’s moments like these where he’s flexing in the middle of a diner and touching himself like he’s hot shit that you think it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not. Your phone rings, giving you an excuse to stop the show he’s giving the rest of the patrons as he grinds into the booth.

“Cool your jets, Hoseok, I have a phone call. Hello? Yes, that’s me.”

“Who is it,” he mouths.

“The research company,” you mouth back. “Yes, I could definitely do that. Within this month, even. Yes, of course, I’ll look for it. Thank you very much. You too. Goodbye.”

Your phone clatters against the table and you cradle your head in your hand, fingers of your other hand coming down to drum on the table. Hoseok looks on in worry, stooping to better read your expression.

“What did they say?”

“They said that if I move out there before the month ends, I have the job.”

“You got the job?”

“I got the job.” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling and the relief that washes over you takes a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t realize you were carrying.

“I wish I had suggested a nicer place so the rest of the dinner could be celebratory.”

“If you hurry up and finish your burger, we can still have some fun.”

Hoseok jumps at the feeling of your foot running up his leg under the table. Rushing up, he goes to pay the bill, taking his burger with him so he can just finish it later. Once the bill is paid, you clear off the table and drag him through the parking lot, eager to get him to the car and driving to a spot where you don’t have to worry about being found. This turns out to be the very back row of the huge parking lot behind the strip mall. All the big summer block busters have already come and gone, so there isn’t much traffic. As soon as you park, you and Hoseok make a beeline to the back seat. To congratulate you, he tells you that he’ll listen to whatever you say. Even though it’s supposed to be about you, he doesn’t think he can’t possibly lose in this situation.

“I want you on your back,” your eyes are dark as you shirk the clothes you’d only changed into less than an hour ago, putting them on after you showered to go to the diner.

“Sounds good,” he says, lifting his hips so you can slide his shorts off.

“So I can ride you.” you supply. You slip off your underwear.

“Great.” He’s already imagining the view he’ll have of your ass, and his dick twitches eagerly at the thought.

“But you can’t touch me until I let you. And I might not let you.”

“What? Why am I being punished?”

You roll your eyes and grab his shaft a little rougher than necessary when he continues to huff about the lack of justice in the world. He quiets down when you slide down on him, still wet from the when his hand wriggled down your own shorts earlier while you were looking for a spot to park to tease you. His hands automatically come up to rest on your hips and get you started on rocking over him, but you grab both his wrists and pin them both above his head. Ignoring his pout, you use his wrists as a handhold for leverage and begin to grind your hips in slow circles. Once the rhythm is right and you’re wetter than before, you start to really lift yourself up off him and then grind back down on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the pace you’ve set, because even through a latex barrier you’re hugging him snugly and slide down him like a dream. But it’s a pace clearly set for you, helping you increase precision so you can use his pelvis as a way to massage your clit. Every time you fuck yourself down on him, you let out a little whine and squeeze his wrists. He groans and throws his head back in frustration, arms and abs flexing with the effort it takes not to wrestle his hands over to you.

“Fuck, just let me use my hands, baby. I just want to make you feel good.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I feel pretty—ahh—good by myself right now.”

Hesitantly, you release your grip on his wrists, giving him a look that tells him to keep them obediently pinned above his head. For a few moments you lean back and use his legs behind you as support so you can drop yourself more forcefully down onto his dick. After a while of watching him grit his teeth and letting out choked out moans, you give him a cheeky smile before turning and repositioning yourself in the opposite direction.

“Be a nice boy and bend this knee, hmm?”

Hoseok plants his foot firmly on the seat so that his knee is bent. It takes some wiggling on your part but soon you’re able to grind against his thigh as you move up and down. The moans you let out get louder and louder but your legs start to burn with exertion and eventually you have to resort to merely humping his leg. It’s not enough and when you curse lowly he sees his chance. He’s a good team player so he’s willing to help you out if you’ll let him.

“If you just let me use my hands again, I can help you out.” You mutter something under your breath. “What was that?”

“I said fine. As long as you get me off, you can see whatever limbs you want.” Your tone is somewhere between whining and snapping but the sheen of sweat coating your back and arms lets him know how tuckered out you really are.

He sits up once he has your permission. His first order of business with his hands back in use is to land a blow down on one of the globes of your ass. You let out a pained moan and clutch his thigh tighter to your core.

“Did you have fun using me like a toy?”

“I did. It was fun seeing you so mad you couldn’t touch me.” He can’t see your whole face, but you look back at him over your shoulder with a feline smugness in your eyes and a smile in your tone.

He spanks you again. “Should have expected this from you. Always thought you wouldn’t know how to act once you finally got the fucking you’d been looking for.” You merely whine in response so he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls. “Why should I let a brat like you cum, huh?”

“Because I just got that new job in the city and you’re proud of me.” You push back on him as best you can when your legs feel like jelly.

“That’s a good answer, baby. I’ll let it go for tonight,” he says as he peppers your shoulder and the parts of your back that he can reach with kisses. “Get on all fours. Hurry.”

You scramble forward on your hands and knees, arching your back for him. He swats your butt again just because he likes the view. He pushes in with no warning, but you’re stretched sufficiently enough that it doesn’t hurt to be so full so abruptly. His hands come to grab both your hips and immediately he pistons forward and fucks you like a machine. Perhaps it’s a side effect of the blue balls he’d been harboring since work started this morning. Perhaps it’s because he has a hunch this is what you wanted the whole time. Perhaps it’s that you’re leaving to some mystery city soon and some part of him believes that if he fucks you deep enough, you’ll take a piece of him with you and that will mean you’ll be together again someday.

Hoseok is certain that this isn’t the last time he’ll see you. But he doesn’t know if it’ll be like this. Like a sort-of summer fling that has a long prologue and a confusing epilogue. He knows you two are linked though. You must know it too. It’s impossible to deny when you both reach climax at the same time during your first time, the breath leaving him like you knocked it out and your eyes rolling into the back of your head like he scratched stars there for only you to see.

He turns you around carefully, so as not to slip out of you, only so he can hold you as you both come down from your respective highs. Neither of you say the words that would probably be most appropriate for a moment like this one. But your hands do automatically wind around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and trace secrets into his back. And the skin behind and below your ear is in fact where you smell the most like you, so he presses his nose into the spot and just breathes. Hoping for the best.

(3 months later)

Hoseok carried the habit of waking up early from his lifeguard job to his real job in the city that’s a 2 hour drive north of his childhood town. With this extra time he likes to explore the different districts, taking a different way to work each day when he can. In doing this, he’s also able to sample all the different coffee shops that are en route to the office and pick up orders given to him by his seniors in the analytics department.

Today his phone is on the fritiz and didn’t finish loading the details to the coffee shop that he was supposed to visit today. Instead, he wonders the streets, still with a bit of free time on his hands before he’s supposed to arrive. A few people have passed him now with steaming take away cups of what is presumably coffee. It takes some intuition, but eventually he makes it to a bright, butter yellow sign and laughs. GoldJin Coffee. Somewhere in the back of his head he remembers liking a tweet from Jin saying that he opened up a second branch, but it didn’t register that it was in Hoseok’s new city until now. It’s unclear whether this was the place his phone intended for him to go, but he steps inside anyway. He knows the coffee here, having come to the original location a few times. With you. As ‘friends’. 

Before the memory can rear it’s head, he shakes his head and moves to stand in line. Most of the other people in suits with briefcases stand in line as they wait for their liquid start of the day. The remaining few seem to be an older, graying couple deliberating over pastries while they wait their turn and another young person looking for fuel. The more he looks over the other people in line, the more Hoseok’s stare his stare lands on the other young person. They look familiar, but he’s not sure why. They’re not wearing a suit, so they can’t be working for his company. He must know them from somewhere else.

The older couple orders their pastries, and someone in a suit orders their drink, then it’s the young person’s turn. They come up to the counter and the barista hands them a drink already made. They thank the barista and move to the side to greet the cashier. Something about the way this person moves grabs Hoseok’s attention to the point where he doesn’t realize it’s his turn to order. He flashes the list of drinks at the barista, having learned from his mistake from trying to recite the flashy drink names himself. The young person moves to a table and as if their bodies are celestial ones, Hoseok gravitates towards the empty table behind them. He watches as they take out a large three ring binder and flip through it while taking sips of their drink.

“J. Hoseok? 6 drinks for J. Hoseok,” the barista calls, shaking him out of his singular thought process.

He gets up from the table to claim his drinks, feeling a little silly for getting so invested in a stranger so rapidly. When he turns around, you stare up at him with wide eyes full of recognition. He walks over to you.

“Hey, long time no see,” his voice is suddenly hoarse.

“Hey, Hoseok.”

[sunshinechii-scenarios]

Kiss the Pain away

✿ Nct’s Renjun x Female!Reader ✿ Angst, fluff, not rlly smut but theres making out lol ✿ 2.3k words ✿ Not requested ✿ Written by Chii ✿ Masterlist!

A/N: hey kids its me,,,,renjun trash,,,whats newwwwww. I’ve had this wip for a while and got super inspired to finish it after listening to stay the night by kid travis! his other song sunset is what i wrote sunset ride too! also the blogs first year anniversary is the 10th I’M CRYING uwu - chii

✿ Description: When the world decides to unleash its wrath on you, you can find your peace of mind with someone.

         You throw your school bag on the ground, letting it fall wherever it landed and slammed yourself onto your desk chair. Your phone landed on your bed when you haphazardly threw it, annoyed. Huffing, you turned on your laptop to blast music directly into your ears in attempts to drown everything out. Unfortunately, a post-it you stuck on it earlier this week was staring back at you.

“Read your chapters for next week,” you said out loud after you ripped it off the screen. You forgot you had school work. Your teacher assigned four chapters to be read by next week before the class meets and you were only given the weekend to complete it all. It wouldn’t have been an issue if this week was the worst week of your life so far.

         You had gotten into the worst argument with your best friend. Lucas Wong was known around school, not for anything good though. He was a heartbreaker and you hated how much he played your best friend like a fiddle. He had been texting her, getting her hopes up and leading her on since the beginning of the semester. You thought back to when she called you at two in the morning, when she was well aware you both had class tomorrow at eight am, to ask you how she should respond to the text that he replied to. The one she sent six hours before that. You were looking out for her as friends should but she didn't see it that way. She let a boy blur her perspective of you. Her pink glasses of love turned into an angry red and accused you of wanting him as well, even going as far as to questioning your relationship with Renjun. Your brows furrowed at the last text either of you sent, is Renjun your rebound because I like Lucas? You left her with no response to her cold words and haven't talked to her since.

         The final you took on Tuesday came back with an ugly 47 inside a red circle. You canceled the date Renjun set up for you two in efforts to lift the finals week stress off of both of your shoulders. You studied late into the night every night. Right after classes, you rushed to the tutoring hall and the countless hours you spent studying went to waste. All that time with the tutor, the after class sessions with a student-teacher was for nothing. You were going to fail the class unless you took up the 25 page assignment summarizing the class which would be due a day before the semester was over, which was in two weeks.

         Your mind scanned all the problems you had, everything felt like rocks on your shoulders. Bringing you down, mentally and physically. The only things that helped you when you felt stressed were Renjun, your best friend and the playlist Renjun specially made for you for when you got stressed. Renjun was on his way home from his late classes, he had later classes and his commute was a lot longer than yours also. Your only option was music, so, you went into your files and played it. Your face lifted from its sour expression to a soft one when you read the title for the millionth time since he sent the playlist to you, for when the stars fall, i’m here. It was all lowercase and the playlist cover was of the two of you. You plugged in the cord and pressed play while you hauled the giant textbook from the corner of your desk and started reading. It was going to be another night coped up in your room.

         After an hour or so, you pushed out from under the desk and stretched your legs that lost blood flow about 10 minutes ago, they felt like pins and needles. You paused your music and you could hear arguing. Your phone was still sitting on your bed. You could see it lighting up every now and then in your peripheral vision but right in front of you was the big, heavy textbook. Your eyes grew tired from the highlighted lines and colorful pen marks that etched the paper. You hear the bed creak in the other room and footsteps downstairs. Dad was sleeping on the couch again. You sigh and shut the book on the desk. You had no motivation to keep reading the chapters. The moon outside told you that maybe it was time to sleep, so you tried to.

         As usual, the same things pop up in your head. False accusations from someone you could trust, separation of family and failure. Another night you considered crying in the pillow until you tired yourself out but tonight wasn't going to be that night. You knew Renjun finished his last final at 7 PM today and he would usually be home by 9 PM due to transportation time. You turned to your side and picked up your phone. An unknowing smile appeared on your lips when you saw Renjun as your lock screen, he was happily smiling as he sat on a picnic blanket. Your fingers move across the screen to unlock your phone and tap the messaging app. Your eyes scanned your most recent texts. Seven hours ago, a text from your college saying that final scores are out. A day ago, your mom asking you if there was milk in the fridge. Five days ago, a text from your ‘friend.’ Your mood soured and you sighed. Thankfully, Renjun's number was conveniently pinned on top of your most recents. Your fingers played across your screen to text him.

Y/N: are you awake right now? Renjun: I just got home, are you okay? Y/N: can i come over? Renjun: Of course, my parents are out on their monthly date night! Y/N: be there in 10 Renjun: I'll meet you at the door...is something wrong? Y/N: I’ll talk about it later Renjun: Alright love :(

You figure it was be best to tell him in person. You rolled off your messy bed to plant your two feet on the floor. You walk over to your closet to put something on to wear. The first thing you grabbed was one of his hoodies he gave you when you two first started going out and a random pair of black pants. You stuffed your keys, wallet and phone into your hoodie before opening your room slightly. Your mom was asleep but your dad called out your name when he heard the door hinges creak.

“Y/N?” You go down the stairs softly and walk down to the couch.

“Where are you going sweetpea? It's kind of late.” His voice was low, as if he just woke up, he probably did. He was always a light sleeper.

“I was going to visit Renjun. He just came back from his last final.” You couldn't lie to your dad and he trusted you enough to tell him the truth always.

“Ah, tell him I said hello,” your father paused before continuing, “keep him around sweetie. He really cares for you.”

You nod and you bid your dad a good night but he's already fast asleep. You sighed and fixed the blanket he had over himself before going to slide on a pair of shoes.You walk out of the door and lock it behind you. You stepped foot out the house and into the night. The sky was dark but littered with stars, mocking you almost. As dark as the sky got, there was always something shining either it be the moon or the stars. You had nothing right now.

         The walk wasn’t too long, only 15 minutes. You walked closer and closer to the white house on the corner of his street. Your feet stopped at his blue mailbox with gold stickers reading out 127 on them. At your feet you see a silhouette in the orange light, your eyes follow it and there was Renjun was sitting on the steps in front of the door. The orange patio light shining from above him. You followed his shoes up his jean clad legs, all the way up to his face buried in his phone. You walk up to him and he looked up at you. He stood up and brought you into a warm hug that you wished could last forever. He mumbled a small, “I missed you so much.” You give him a lazy smile and kiss his cheek.

“Do you want to stay out here or go inside?” He asked while you were still hugging his chest.

Mumbling an “inside,” he let go of you and opened the front door. You two tossed off your shoes before going to his room, hand in hand. The sound of footsteps in sync up the wooden stairs was the only sound that could be heard before he opened his room door.

         "When did you rearrange your room?" You said as you stepped into his room. The white walls were lined with his sketches and drawings. A picture of you two was proudly placed on his desk right by his laptop that was playing music at a low volume.

"Just this week, I wanted to face the window at night. Helps me sleep I’ve realized,” he said as you walked around his bed and picked up the couple plushie you bought for you two. You held it in your arms as you sat on his bed. The springs creaking as his dark blue sheets wrinkled under your weight. You giggled before speaking, “to watch out for UFOs?"

"You know me so well but no, the moon and sun reminds me of us." You turned your head to smile at Renjun. He mirrored a similar expression before walking over to the side of the bed you were on.

He crouched down and looked at you, “tell me what's wrong.”

         You explained to him the events of the past week. His heart sank. He wasn't able to be there for you. He was dealing with academic related issues too but he was beating himself over not checking up on you every now and then. He felt guilty but he was there for you now, so, Renjun slowly moved you into his chest. Letting you rest on him. You took this chance to bury your face into his sweater and hug his frame. You felt the tears starting to form. As you kept talking, Renjun would stroke your head and back, trying to provide a sense of comfort and safety for you.

         When you finished spilling your worries out to him, you looked up at him with teary eyes. His thumbs found their way to your cheeks and wiped away the evidence of your sadness. Your eyes fluttered in between his eyes and his lips as he came close to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry nothing worked out the way you wanted to it,” he mumbled. When he pulled back, you pulled him back in, on the lips. You didn’t know what took over you. All you knew was that you needed something to help you temporarily forget your troubles. He was taken aback at first but gave into you. He closed his eyes and let you do what you needed to do. He blindly pulled the sleeves of his sweater down to his hands. You felt the soft fabric against your cheeks as he wiped the hot tears streaming down your face again. As if Renjun’s entire being was pushing out all the negativity you had inside you, the worries you had washed away each second you two spent against each other.

         You let your arms circle around his neck, your hand weaving themselves in his hair and eventually playing with it while you kissed him. The kiss was soft at first but turned intense.Your nails slightly scratched at his scalp, he felt shivers up his spine. Your noses bumped each others while you deepened the kiss as far as you could with the sudden need of his lips unlike you ever felt before. When you pulled a little too hard on his hair, he groaned and it knocked you out of your trance. You quickly moved away from him. His eyes fluttered open, his lips a deeper hue of pink and his hair, messy. He blinked a few times before looking at you. Your hair was also a mess and your lips looked swollen.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to hurt you are you okay?" You worryingly asked, the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him accidentally.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, "I'm fine." Your legs dug into his bed at either side of his body. You straightened yourself up as he held your back. You saw his dark eyes glitter in the moonlight as he look up at you. You felt him shift to sit up straight and hold onto your waist now. He let your fingers lace together at your sides before he placed a kiss on your knuckles. He looked up at you through his lashes before trailing his hand up your arm. You sat down in between his legs and he gently moved your hair from your shoulders. His lips brushed against your collarbone before giving it a featherlight kiss.

“Is this alright?” His breath was hot against your skin. You nodded. He felt your hands back in his hair, you unknowingly gripped on it harder and harder but he didn’t mind. It was like encouragement. His lips fell into one area above your collarbone before latching on and leaving harsh kisses, each one feeling like a burn, something you could get addicted to. Your hands went under his sweater to lift it off and to leave him in a plain white t shirt.

         You were wrong about having nothing. The darkest skies in the night had something to hang onto for support. Something to make them feel like a whole. You had Renjun.

i love huang renjun that is all uwu - Chii

Please don’t claim this as your own and please don’t do anything with it without my permission. If you don’t want it happening to you, don’t do it to others.

[inbtswethrrust]

MASTERPOST!

Hello I’m alive (barely!!!) I’ve decided to make this random masterpost (of yoonmin, for now) bc I feel really bad that I haven’t been able to be an active admin on here because Life(TM) and I’ve been too tired to go on tumblr :( So, here’s a bunch of stuff that I’ve read recently (never too tired to read fics amirite ha h a send help) and I hope you enjoy them! Drop a fanmail in the inbox and yell w/ me when you’re done!!! More random masterposts coming your way soon~

This is a long one my dudes, so all the juicy goodness under the read more :)

~YOONMIN~

Sleepovers in My Bed by baepce [T, 12k]

��You should just sleep here, hyung. It’s still raining hard.”

“Should I? My house is literally in front of yours though.”

The fingers in Jimin’s hair continue combing through the locks, soothing and gentle. Yoongi’s ministrations help him dip slowly into sleep. “Just listen to me, hyungie! I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”

How can Yoongi say no to that?

; or Yoongi and Jimin get to know their selves, each other, and fall in love through a series of sleepovers.

Admin’s Note: SO GOOD!!!!!!! Friends to lovers always gets me especially when it’s one of those that start off as childhood friends it got me right in the heart strings

all the currents lead back to you by anyadisee [M, 19k]

Jimin doesn’t really lie so much as he chooses not to mention a certain truth to a certain witch, but he has his reasons. And they’re perfectly valid reasons, thank you very much, as a certain fairy and a certain half-human, half-pixie have constantly reassured him. Reasonable reasons. A surprise won’t exactly work if the person meant to be surprised gets a heads-up about it, after all.

Still, that logic doesn’t stop the little twinge of guilt in Jimin’s chest when he sees Yoongi’s text saying, Have a safe trip, I’ll see you in two days <3 (he even used a heart, Jimin thinks dazedly) when in fact Jimin a) is already out of Busan and has been crashing on Taehyung and Jungkook’s couch since yesterday, and b) will be seeing Yoongi not in two days, but just one. He just tries to shake it off by imagining the surprised look on his boyfriend’s face when he comes knocking on his door bright and early tomorrow, armed and ready for their first date.

And, wow. Their first date.

;;

[or in which jimin and yoongi finally go on their first date]

Admin’s Note: This is part of the moonlight on your skin, ocean in my veins series w/ witch!yoongi and mermaid!jimin and lemme tell u this is the fluffiest and sweetest thing I’ve read in a long time

What's Up, Buttercup by springrain21 [Not Rated, 14k]

Jimin meets Yoongi, the grumpy buttercup fairy, and proceeds to worm his way into his heart.

Admin’s Note: I was so surprised when I first read this because buttercup fairy???? What type of Soft am I gonna witness and then I was attacked by Actual Softness you won’t regret reading this (and squealing)

Love me this Christmas (and forever) by Imperatritsa [Not Rated, 12k]

Jimin had an album full of his most precious memories. He started it two years ago, going through his parent’s physical albums and his friend’s digital ones, picking all the pictures that made him smile bright enough to hurt his cheeks, the ones that made him feel warm, made him want to never stop looking at them because they brought back the sweetest memories.

Also all the Holidays he spent with Yoongi.

-

[or "childhood friends!au/friends to lovers!au where with each Christmas & new year's yoongi and jimin's feelings grow for each other"]

Admin’s Note: More friends to lovers!!!! This kind of reminded me of the sequel to When You’re In Love by jflawless bc of the photo album so if you liked that softness you’re gonna love this Trust

a gift wrapped in yellow by abdicar [T, 15k]

It was perfect.

Yoongi had taken a single look at it and decided that it was the ideal gift for Jimin. Yet, somehow, he managed to underestimate exactly how much his friend would love it - or how much Yoongi would resent having bought the damned thing in the first place.

(Or: the one in which Yoongi is Jimin's Secret Santa and gives him a really good gift which ends up backfiring. Or maybe not.)

Admin’s Note: More friends to lovers bc ohohohohoh also mutual pining and a super oblivious yoongi pls help him

Peach Kiss by BabyLove (sugamins) [T, 92k]

Includes:

Pepsi Cola Queens Hang On, Baby!

Admin’s Note: 80s!au and I suddenly feel the need to wear bell bottoms again

what the headlines don't tell you by anyadisee [T, 14k]

People call them Shadow and Hurricane.

Jimin calls them a pair of giant headaches, one a lot more so than the other.

;;

it's already difficult having a college-student-by-day, crime-fighter-by-night kind of lifestyle. jimin doesn't really need to be stressing over reckless fellow superheroes and crushing on cute bookshop workers on top of everything going on with his life, but here he is anyway.

Admin’s Note: Superhero au!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So good s o g o o d!!!!!! Warning: some violence but not anything super graphic or anything like that :)

in this blue light by anyadisee [T, 20k]

For a second, the dragon looks as though it's going to bump its head against Jimin’s palm, giving him the chance to graze his fingers over its glinting scales.

But then the second is over, and the dragon snorts instead, warm smoke coming out of its nostrils and blowing Jimin’s hair back. Then it turns around and goes back into its cave, leaving Jimin standing there and feeling like an idiot.

Taehyung appears by his shoulder seconds later, whistling lowly. “Well, that didn’t work. No worries though, Jimin! I’m going to find another way to get my necklace back. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.”

Jimin says, “It laughed at me.”

Taehyung blinks. “What?”

“Taehyung, that dragon bastard laughed at me.”

;;

[or in which taehyung asks jimin, who has a calming aura towards animals, to help him get his necklace back from a dragon. only, it gets personal.]

Admin’s Note: This was so cute the dragon yall the d r a g o n

stay up (talking to the stars) by realitygetsdestroyed [t, 4k]

“Do you believe in the stars?”

Eight year old Jimin’s eyes bug out before he rapidly turns his body to Yoongi. “Do they have magic powers?”

Yoongi laughs, his chubby fingers rubbing against each other in order to get his blood circulating. “Sort of.” He looks up at the sky. “If you wish on some of them, they will grant that wish for you."

in which childhood friends yoongi and jimin stargaze every Christmas.

Admin’s Note: This was angsty but cute and growing up makes me emo

Sleepy by Whatev3rs [Not Rated, 1k]

After that, it's quite. Jimin starts getting very sleepy, and he's so comfortable right there, in Yoongi's bed, with his arms around the older's neck. So he doesn't realise it when his thoughts drift to his hopeless, hopeless feelings. And the illusion that everything was so perfect at that moment that he could get away with anything.

And before he realises it, he tips his head up and places a small kiss on Yoongi's neck, making the older's breath hitch and his own heart stop beating.

Admin’s Note: Non au gets me in the liver

After-school Deception by AriaHann [T, 7k]

She was the most beautiful girl Park Jimin had ever seen.

And yet, she was a strange girl. She was as tall as him, acted slightly boyishly, and had a deep voice. Her hobby was breaking other boys' hearts. Despite this, Jimin was only intrigued even further.

Jimin learned her name: Min Yoon(ji).

Admin’s Note: MIN YOONJI

Best Kept Secret by small things (lost_things) [E, 2k]

Yoongi is a lot of things, including something that A.R.M.Y. doesn't suspect. Jimin is a good dongsaeng in the best way possible.

Admin’s Note: who would i be if i didnt put any smut

soju and i love you by daegu1310 (jeonseokf) [T, 1k]

jimin is a star, yoongi wants to watch him shine.

My Soulmate Who Reads Smut by pseudo_nim09 [T, 2k]

Prompt: On some days, whatever your soulmate thinks of is something you can hear in your mind and your soulmate is currently reading smut fics and you’re trying so hard not to mess up this class presentation which shoulders half your mark for the semester.

Or

Where Yoongi is going to strangle his soulmate for reading some Taekook smut fic at a really shitty timing.

Baby Fever by sobermilk [E, 9k]

Jimin wakes up one afternoon feeling like he's been set on fire. Yoongi's not there to help him, so he helps himself instead.

I Swear by bramblejelli [M, 10k]

You gain a tally mark every time your soulmate swears.

Jimin swears like a sailor and Yoongi's never sworn a day in his life.

Bring On The Sunshine by smoljean [G, 42k]

With the help of their five year old "matchmaker" Taehyung, Yoongi and Jimin stumble into each other's lives. Cue the awkward, messy pining and dating adventures with a noisy kid in their way.

I blush every time I see you by dmingi [T, 10k]

After the incident, Yoongi the wizard and Jimin the water nymph met again at Santa's Christmas party where they share their first ever kiss.

Or

Magic AU where if you get stuck under the mistletoe, you wont be able to get out until you get kissed.

I Call Him Daddy (He Calls Me Baby) [Not Rated, 8k]

Jimin likes money. Yoongi likes fucking. They work out a deal.

Practice Makes by signifying_nothing [E, 4k]

the facts in the case of the unfortunate min yoongi: the Gay that Can't Suck Dick.  

i'm just going with the flow by arsen [T, 3k]

"I took advice from my friend and pretended to trip in front of you to get your attention except I fell harder than I thought and now my arm is broken can you drive me to the doctor please"

-

park jimin doesn't know if he should punch kim taehyung or thank him. kim namjoon either will go to jail or will be killed by kim taehyung and kim seokjin. min yoongi is confused and he takes advantage of namjoon's card, jung hoseok and jeon jeongguk just hangs around.

Yuletide Baby by MiniBunny [Not Rated, 12k]

With the help of their friends, Jimin and Yoongi realize their feelings for each other. And it goes a little too well.

Santa tell me (don’t make me fall in love again if you won’t be here) bySlytherintimelord [T, 4k]

- jimin, a 22 year old man, still believes in santa claus, and on christmas morning he finds a man not much older than himself sitting on his couch -

“At least you’re not like ‘Santa doesn’t exist’”, Mystery man whined and made air quotes, “I’m supposed to be the next Santa, but red is not a good colour on me. Also, I’m not short. And reindeers are useless in this day and age, when I can just ride a motorcycle or some shit. I mean, my grandfather was Santa, and he learned from this other old dude, and apparently I’m supposed pass down the lineage, but honestly, it’s a boring job-PUT THE BOOK DOWN,” hot mystery man yelled in panic as Jimin held the book up again from where his arm had lowered.

Minutes to Midnight by WeirdButIloveIt [Not Rated, 9k]

Park Jimin was your average fanboy: Poor, sleep deprived, and in love with someone who didn't even know he existed. A surprise Christmas gift may change that though, and maybe he was a little bit in over his head.

Yoonmin YouTuber AU

What I Like About You (Everything) by DIMPLEDJIMINIE [T, 3k]

After a long day for Jimin, Yoongi just wants to remind him why he likes or— loves him so much.

Yours by mochiJimin [Not Rated, 4k]

Jimin has a habit of not returning anything he borrowed from Yoongi. The older guy never complain tho until one day he did. And it just happen to be at the time when Jimin was drunk.

All I Want For Christmas (Is You) by ayumin [G, 6k]

So, yeah, it is likely that at some point in their lives everyone has had a crush on Jimin, or still has one, but at least Yoongi has the privilege of being one of his closest friends.

(Except Yoongi doesn't want to be Jimin's friend. Yoongi wants to kiss his neck.

And, unfortunately, it seems like his friends are very aware of that.)

No Spell Can Cure Shyness (except maybe love) byMissterMaia [T, 29k]

Yoongi really doesn’t expect the witchboy who sent him an accidental text to be the prettiest boy he's ever seen in all his life. Or the nicest. Or the kindest. Or just the best in every possible way.

Painfully shy and (un)smooth as he is, Yoongi decides the best way to approach this Jimin person is in the form of a cat. A cat who can't talk.

Great plan, Yoongi.

Admin’s Note: YA L L F L OOF TO THE M A X

Red's Big Bad Wolf by TheOrgasmicSeke [E, 31k]

Yoongi takes the journey to see his Nana once a week but ending up with a wolf stalking after him was the last thing Yoongi expected. Add in that the wolf is maybe the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen, and seems intent on making Yoongi his, just completes the list of problems Yoongi never wanted to have.

Or, Yoongi is Red Riding Hood and Jimin a rather gorgeous wolf who has easily fallen so very in love with him.

Admin’s Note: who’s cryin itsa me also i love yoongi’s grandma that is all

- A

[shinobicyrus]

Full Disclosure

My Christmas Truce fic for @rainosa, who asked for “Danny & parents angst.” I angsted the best I could manage this close to Christmas.  

 “...You redecorated.”

Tucker turns around and furrows his brow at him. It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s the first thing Danny can think of as he stands in the doorway to Tucker’s room, the strap of his duffel digging into his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tucker looked around for confirmation. “Oh! Right, yeah. I moved some things around like...last semester? I think?”

Last semester? Has it really been that long since he visited Tuck at his house? New anime scrolls have replaced the last of the posters that had been around since middle school. The bookshelf has been moved to make space for a brand new desk, where Tuck’s computer is humming and idle. At least that was the same- unless Tucker’s been replacing its innards again.

No, except for the bed in the same old corner, Tuck’s room is practically unrecognizable. It’s been a lot longer than just one semester since Danny’s stepped foot in his best friend’s room, and he never even realized. 

Too busy with ghost-drama, probably. 

Tucker opens his arms to indicate the room, still littered with rumpled old clothes, comic books, and tech magazines. “Well, mi casa and whatever, I’m failing Spanish.”

“Tucker, you speak fluent Esperanto with Wulf. How are you failing Spanish?”

“Can never find time to finish the homework. It’s okay, I’ll just ace the final and squeak by.” He sweeps aside some t-shirts to excavate the carpeting  underneath. “Uh...you can put your stuff here. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting-”

“It’s fine.” Danny throws his duffel bag down on the cleared floor space and braces for the inevitable question. 

Instead, Tucker asks: “You want to watch a movie or fight off a demon-invasion on Mars?”

Danny releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Maybe just a movie. Scientists accidentally opening a portal to hell sounds a little too...”

“Relevant to our current situation?”

"Yeah. That.” Danny sits down on Tucker’s bed and winces when he feels something very not-cushiony or bedlike. He rummages underneath and pulls out a thick comicbook with a werewolf-looking woman in frayed clothes on the cover. Tucker practically dives across the room to snatch it out of Danny’s hands as he just starts flipping through it. 

“Ha-ha that’s not a movie what’s this where did it even come from what a mystery.” Tucker quickly banishes it to his bookshelf. 

Danny raises any eyebrow. “The Den of Empress She-Wolf?”

“I am invoking the ‘no-judgements’ clause of our friendship.”

“Wow, it must be really bad.”

Tucker scowls in a vain effort to hide the blush coloring his cheeks, making Danny laugh. It feels good, feeling the tension from the past few hours dissolve in a short fit of giggles.

Yeah, coming here had been a good idea.

He lets Tucker choose the movie, and they both sit down on the bed with their backs against the wall. At least the TV hadn’t been moved since the last time Danny had been over.

He doesn’t really pay attention to the movie. It’s difficult to focus on anything for too long. At some point, Tucker’s Mom knocks softly and shows up with a gigantic bowl of stovetop popcorn. Danny doesn’t know what cover story Tucker fed his parents, but it had to be close enough to the truth, judging by the concerned look she thinks she’s hiding.

“Thanks, Mrs. Angela.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. Just made a little too much, is all. You boys are settled in for the night?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tucker groans like he’s suffering. 

“Fine, fine, I won’t keep bothering you.” 

Danny’s phone pings in his pocket. Without even looking, he reaches in and silences it. He doesn’t need to see who it is- all of his friends have their own ringtone. 

Tucker looks at him, wearing the exact same look his mom just had. “Are you gonna check your-”

“Hit play, we’re in the middle of my favorite scene,” Danny says. It’s not a lie; Andrew Garfield really shines with classic Spider-Man sass against that carjacker.

Tucker looks like he wants to say something, but finally relents and starts the movie back up again. Danny releases another breath he’d been holding.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. The room’s dark when he jolts awake; still muddled, Danny briefly thinks just for a moment, that he’s home. 

Tucker is sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed near Danny’s feet, the light from his laptop screen painting deep shadows and harsh digital. The memory of where he is and why he’s there settles back into his headspace like a sharp slap of focus. Danny knuckles at the crust and dark circles around his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little past one.” Tucker keeps his gaze on the screen, keeping the manic tempo of clacking computer keys. Danny has no idea how that didn’t wake him. Maybe he’s gotten too good at grabbing whatever sleep he can, or his subconscious finds unmistakable Tucker-noises comforting.

Danny sits up and reaches out blindly for his phone, but this isn’t his room and Tucker keeps his nightstand on the other side, so he just ends up slapping his hand against the wall. Tucker wordlessly pulls Danny’s phone from someplace and hands it to him, somehow still typing one-handed. 

“Thanks.” He looks at the blanket pooled around him that wasn’t there before. “I took your bed,” He says it like an apology.

“S’okay. You looked like you needed it. That thing was buzzing up a storm, by the way.”

He’s right. The lockscreen says Danny has fifteen new messages. Sighing, Danny plugs in Sam’s birthday and checks them. Text messages from Jazz and Danielle, updating him and asking if he’s okay. No missed phone calls from his parents, thank God. 

The last call made on the phone was technically yesterday, when he called Tucker and asked if he could stay the night. Thirty seconds was all his voice could manage, at the time.

Even though Tucker had told him the time, it hadn’t registered until Danny’s looking at the clock on his phone and sees the missed notification he scheduled. Danny sits up straighter. “Patrol!” He blurts out. “I completely-”

“Already taken care of,” Tucker keeps coding. “Val and Sam are handling it.”

“Those two...together?”

He shrugged. “I dunno man, I think they had a secret meeting and hashed out their differences when we weren’t looking.”

Danny double-checked his messages, but there wasn’t anything from Sam or Val.

“So...uh.” Tucker clears his throat. “Jazz filled me in. While you were asleep. Actually, before you got here, too.” 

“She...did?”

“Yeah....her, Sam, and me kinda had this planned out for a while, now. For when it happened.”

“Oh.” He can’t quite look Tucker in the eyes. It’s...he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. He’s actually really touched, that they had his back when he didn’t ask for it- that they were ready for whatever happened and never told him so he wouldn’t feel any more pressure than he already was.

“You told them.” Tucker says it not like a question.

“Yeah.”

“And...now you’re staying here.”

“It...didn’t go well.” Danny finally drags his eyes up to Tuck’s. “How much did Jazz tell you?”

“Just that shit went down and Operation We-Never-Decided-On-A-Name was in effect. She didn’t think it was right to say anything more unless you were ready.”

He should have guessed Jazz wouldn’t just blab about everything. His big sister was a lot of things (see also: meddling, anal, way too cheery at seven a.m.) but she’s been surprisingly good with boundaries and keeping his secrets, after the first few hiccups. “Wanna know the funny thing? It wasn’t the half-ghost thing.”

“But...what else would it be?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it just about gave them a heart attack, but things didn’t get bad until I told them everything.”

Tucker’s eyes widen. “Everything, everything?”

Danny chuckles sadly. “Turns out, finding out your best friend from college is secretly a ghost-monster trying to kill you and/or destroy your marriage is one thing, but your own kids knowing about it and lying about it?”

“Ooohhh.” Tucker nods. “That.” 

“Yeah. That. And since things couldn’t possibly get any worse, I thought: ‘why not just rip off the filthy band-aid that is my life all at once and tell them about their clone-daughter, too?’”

Tucker winces. “Ooohhhh crap.” 

“And that’s when the yelling started.” Danny changes his voice in a poor imitation of his mother. “’She’s just a little girl, how could you let her run away on her own!’ I mean, yeah, I definitely deserved that- but she had Valerie looking after her, and it’s not like I could force Danielle to do anything she didn’t want to do! And with Vlad I tried to explain how I had it under control, like, we had a mutually assured secret identity thing going on- he stopped trying to actively murder Dad years ago. All our stuff was strictly foiling evil plots and him beating the crap out of me sometimes.”

“And the cloning.” Tucker adds.

“Okay yeah that too, which is sort of how Danielle got name-dropped by sorta accident in the first place, but then they had the gall to berate me for not trusting them!” It’s like being back in the living room all over again. Danny’s fist is balled so tight his nails are biting crescents into his palms, and in the dark he can tell his eyes started blazing green again, which probably hadn’t helped things with his ghost-hunter parents, much.

“Trust? I’m like, Trust?! How can ever really trust people that have tried to shoot me on sight, before? That have spent whole family meals talking about dissecting me ‘molecule by molecule.’ How can I trust people that build a goddamn portal to the netherworld in their basement and put their family and the whole freaking town in danger every. Single. Day?!”

They’d been appalled when he exploded on them, even Jazz  looked uncomfortable, even if it was all thing’s she’d been saying for years- if a bit gentler. Looking back on it- replaying the whole thing over again- made his heart pound with residual panic.

But Tucker? Tucker just nods and listens.

Danny has to swallow down the sudden dryness squeezing his throat. “I blamed them.” He manages, throat hoarse. “I blamed everything on them. I told them their stupid portal turned me into this, and I looked them in the eye and said I saw the first accident, the one that made Vlad, and I said that if they wanted to angry at anyone, they should look in a mirror first.”

“Ouch,” Tucker says. “Not exactly inaccurate, but ouch.”

“It was around then I decided staying there was probably a bad idea and packed a bag.”

“That’s...probably for the best.” Tucker nods. “Get some distance, clear your head.”

“You and Sam kind of came up too.”

“We did?”

Danny makes sound resembling a laugh. “They asked if you guys knew. I don’t think I laughed harder in my entire life.”

Tucker blinks at him, slowly processing what he’d said, then bursts into a shoulder shaking laugh. “Oh my God. They actually asked if we knew?”

Danny chortles. “I know, right! I was like, ‘how do you think I even survived this long without going crazy’?”

Tucker’s so far gone he’s slapping his eye and wheezing desperately. “You literally yell ‘I’m Going Ghost!’ in the hallways at school! Even if you didn’t tell us, we’d have figured it out in like, a week!”

“I know!”

“Jazz figured you out!”

“I knooow!” Danny keels over with laughter, tears streaming down his face. 

Tucker wipes a tear from his eye. “And-heheh- and I think Sam would have noticed that her boyfriend’s eyes freaking glowed whenever they- wait- did you tell them you and Sam are-”

“God no, are you kidding? What am I, nuts?”

That just ignites a whole new round of laughter- they’re probably too loud, Tucker’s parents are two rooms away and might be wondering what sounds like a pair of cackling lunatics coming from their son’s room. But Danny and Tucker surrender to it and fall together in a heap on the bed, still shaking with little leftover giggles.

They lay there quietly in the dark on the bed like they used to in grade school. Back then staying up into one-am was a huge deal, devouring junk food, playing video games, and watching gory age-inappropriate movies action movies.

Now they usually stayed up this late hunting ghosts and cramming what little homework they could manage before falling asleep in exhaustion. 

Danny suddenly feels very tired. 

“What are we supposed to do now, Tuck?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Stay here the rest of the weekend, eat unhealthy shit, and bingewatch bad anime from my hard drive?”

“God yes. You’re the best.”

“Hahah, hell yeah. Who’s best friend now?”

“Still Sam, but for completely different reasons.”

“No fair, I think I’ve proven I can totally pull off that same skirt.”

“I love you, Tuck, but that was so wrong.”

“Don’t shame me I got fifty bucks outta that deal and my legs looked great.”

Danny snorts back a laugh- and freezes when his phone buzzes.

Tucker waits a few moments for Danny’s head to stop pounding quite so fast before asking. “That Jazz again?”

“...no.” Danny’s shaking fingers fumble the password twice before he manages to bring up the single text message:

Mom [1:37am]: Never forget you’re my baby boy and I will always love you 

Tucker might be right about the best friend thing after all. He doesn’t say a word while Danny cries quietly on his bed. Just sits up, pulls the blanket over the both of them, and starts typing a comfortable rhythm on his laptop again.

[your-dietician]

How do college football players feel about Playoff expansion? Past, present voices on more games, the same grind – The Athletic

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/ncaa-football/how-do-college-football-players-feel-about-playoff-expansion-past-present-voices-on-more-games-the-same-grind-the-athletic/

How do college football players feel about Playoff expansion? Past, present voices on more games, the same grind – The Athletic

— This story was written by Nicole Auerbach, Tyson Alger, Scott Dochterman, Jason Kersey and Chris Vannini.

Raekwon McMillan knows what it’s like to play more games than ever before. As a freshman linebacker at Ohio State in 2014, he played in the Buckeyes’ first-ever 15-game season, ending in the inaugural College Football Playoff with a national championship. The victory was sweet, but the adjustments the Buckeyes had to make for an additional game were very real. From shifting strength and conditioning strategies to adding rest and recovery time, it was a new experience.

Now, as college football heads toward a 12-team Playoff model that opens up the possibility of a 17-game season for those who take a certain path through the postseason, McMillan thinks back to the additional grind he had to go through. His Buckeyes played in 14 games when they reached the CFP semis in 2016, too.

“Ohio State did a great job of taking care of players … but during the second run, I felt like my body was breaking down toward the end, kind of like at the end of an NFL season,” McMillan said. “And that was with a month break between our last game and when the Playoff started (in 2016). That window (between games) will have to go down. I don’t really understand how it will work with the new structure of the Playoff.”

McMillan, who was drafted in the second round in 2017 and now plays for the New England Patriots, said the later the season went, the longer his recovery time after games would be. He wasn’t ever injured, but “it was little things here and there — ankle started feeling tight, knees, shoulders, head, neck.”

Last week in Dallas the CFP’s Board of Managers, a group of 11 university presidents representing all 10 Football Bowl Subdivision leagues and Notre Dame, discussed the new 12-team proposal and greenlit it for further discussion. CFP leadership will spend the summer meeting with bowl and television partners to determine the feasibility of the new model and how soon it can take effect.

Commissioners and presidents have said they want to get feedback from current and former players about the additional wear and tear that would come with extending their season — a listening process that’s only happening after the favored Playoff model has been selected. College athletes often have little to no say in what happens in their sport, and they have so far been absent in the expansion conversation. What will they have to say about this in the coming months? Don’t expect a consensus. The Athletic spoke with several current and former players to see what they think right now. Some aren’t concerned about playing more games, while others seriously question if it’s too much.

Oklahoma redshirt senior H-back Jeremiah Hall said he’s “not really” worried about potentially playing more games in an expanded Playoff because every other level of football requires multiple rounds of games in its postseason format.

“In high school, you have a series of four to six rounds, depending on your state,” Hall said. “If you think about it, after the Big 12 championship, we’re really waiting and sitting around Norman for two or three weeks, especially when we’ve made it to the Playoff. We’re not really doing too much. A week off between whatever championship game you may have in your conference, and then maybe go two weeks on for the playoff games and then a week off, then your national championship — I think that’d be fair. We’ve been doing the same thing since high school. I don’t think it would be any worse.”

“I can wrap my head around adding games,” former Ohio State linebacker Joshua Perry said. “But where the issue comes for me is when we talk about ‘student-athletes.’ … As long as we keep using the terminology of ‘student-athlete,’ we have to think about how that actually impacts the student side.”

Conference championship games already often fall during finals week in early December. If the College Football Playoff pushes the postseason’s end point further into January, players could also be juggling the start of a new semester with the preparation for the biggest games of their season. “How can you manage a course load and be the type of student that a program would expect you to be when now the whole year, basically, you’re spending preparing for games?” Perry said. “We have to stop with this idea of student-athlete.

“But in terms of body management, they’ll figure that out. Sports science is evolving rapidly.”

A longer college football season would prepare future pros for the grind of a long NFL season, Hall said. (McMillan pointed out that it will also shorten the time some potential pros have to decide whether or not they want to declare for the NFL Draft, if the customary mid-January decision deadline does not change.) For those who aren’t headed to the NFL, it still creates more excitement. “The more football, the better,” Hall said. But Perry speculates that load management could come to college football, with star players opting not to play certain games in November if their team has already all but locked up a Playoff spot.

“Or if you’re one of the last teams to get in, does somebody make a decision like, ‘Hey, I don’t know what our chances are in this game, but I don’t necessarily want to risk this when I know I’m staring at a $30 million contract in just a matter of months.’” Perry said.

McMillan believes his CFP experience was well worth it because of the magnitude of the games and the opportunity to compete for a national championship. It certainly helped, too, “how many coaches at the next level were able to see those games,” he said. “It was beneficial in many ways, but you will have to watch and see how it affects the players. What is the benefit for players who are not going to the NFL? What extra benefit do they get?”

It’s clear that the programs that can better weather the extra practices and games — and keep players engaged — will be best positioned for success late in the long season. “That’s the game, staying healthy and being the strongest, most physical team,” Iowa junior wide receiver Nico Ragaini said. To him, this is just a natural extension of what already happens in the regular season.

The path to 17 games in a 12-team Playoff world is not necessarily likely to happen on an annual basis: A team would need to play a standard 12-game regular season, reachits conference championship game, make the Playoff as a No. 5-12 seed and then advance through all three rounds to the national title game. The CFP’s Management Committee has stressed that in most years the title game’s most likely participants will come from the top four Power 5 conference champions who earned a first-round bye and would play a total of 16 games, including the national championship game. The losing teams in the new first round of the Playoff will not play in bowl games later in December, either. According to Notre Dame athletic director Jack Swarbrick, because of those parameters, a third of the teams involved in the CFP would play the same number of games they would in a normal year with a bowl trip.

“The route to get to 17 in this model isn’t impossible, but there have been a lot of things built in to make that highly unlikely,” said Swarbrick, who was part of the CFP’s four-member working group that proposed the 12-team model.

“For the vast majority of the field, at best there would be a one-game expansion,” said MAC commissioner Jon Steinbrecher, a member of the CFP Management Committee. “For many, it would be the same or less, depending on if you’re in a conference championship game or not. We have to take a look at all of that. We need to look at the construct of college football from a total-year process.

“It’s the one sport in the NCAA where we literally have a calendar that accounts for every day, whether it’s recruiting, in-season, out-of-season workouts, access to things. We need to go back and look at that. Is how we’re laying this out the appropriate way to do so, or is there another way?”

Commissioners and presidents will spend the next few weeks and months talking to athletes with a range of experiences, and it’ll be important for them to talk to those who still feel the long-term effects of pushing through a season. Take former Oregon linebacker Tyson Coleman, for example. He started 15 games in 2014, when the Ducks made the Playoff, beat Florida State in the Rose Bowl to reach the national title game and then lost to McMillan and Ohio State. Coleman started 13 games the following season, too. He said it’s important to understand both the physical and mental toll that an extended season will have on 18- to 22-year-olds.

“My last two years at Oregon I had bulging discs in my back and neck that were kind of undiagnosed, so those seasons were miserable for me,” Coleman said. “Those added extra weeks, I know for guys in my similar position, it wasn’t ideal. It was really cool to play in the Rose Bowl and the first College Football Playoff ever, but it wasn’t great on our bodies.”

Coleman said he didn’t practice much during the second half of either season; he’d do walkthroughs and jog around.

“Before games I would take Toradol,” he said. “I’d take it 30 minutes before the game, my muscles would loosen up and then I would go run into people. A lot of guys will do that, you know, being held out of practice all week just so they can get through four quarters of a game, and that’s in a normal season.”

Coleman had to have a disc replaced in his neck eight months ago, after being in so much pain one night that his mother and father had to help carry him to the emergency room because he couldn’t walk. He underwent surgery a week later and came away with a $10,000 hospital bill that his insurance didn’t cover. Coleman’s experience has impacted how he views college football and the way it’s run.

“This is nothing specific to Oregon. It’s part of the business and the issue with the NCAA,” Coleman said. “I played in four or five of the most-watched games in history, contributed to billions of dollars coming into our school and the NCAA, but I can’t get $10,000 to get my neck back in the position it was before I started playing.”

Coleman believes the athletes who play in the games deserve compensation. Like all players, he understands that an expanded CFP will mean even more money. The initial four-team field was worth about $470 million annually from ESPN, and that was for only four teams and three games. The 12-team proposal triples the amount of teams and adds eight more postseason games.

“From a player’s perspective, I think the Playoff is cool. I think the system is awesome. But the toll on the body? I don’t know if it’s worth your scholarship.”

(Photo: Jamie Schwaberow / NCAA Photos via Getty Images)

Get all-access to exclusive stories.

Subscribe to The Athletic for ad-free, in-depth coverage of your favorite players, teams, leagues and clubs. Try a week on us.

START FREE TRIAL

window.fbAsyncInit = function() FB.init( appId : '755512374574534', xfbml : true, version : 'v9.0' ); ;

(function(d, s, id) var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); (document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m))(window,document,'script','https://www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga');

ga('create', 'UA-72907525-1', 'auto'); ga('send', 'pageview'); !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script','https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('dataProcessingOptions', []); fbq('init', '207679059578897'); // Insert your pixel ID here. fbq('track', 'PageView', contents: [ id: '2679618', quantity: 1 ], content_type: 'product', league_ids: ["9"], all_tagged_teams: ["178","191","201","243"] ); Source link

[imaginedeux]

Snow Fall

A/N: Alright so, Hi. I know it’s been a long ass time since i’ve done anything to this blog and I apologize, but I've just finished my second to last semester of University, and all my time has been going to my studies. But anyways, I was inspired to write this because, it snowed in my hometown a couple of weeks ago, and it hasn't snowed here in over 10 years. And idk i just wanted to write something with snow in it.

“Ni!” You, yelled seeing her best friend walk down the flight of stairs to the first floor of the airport! “It’s so nice to see you, it’s been so long.” You gushed taking him in for a hug.

“Its nice to see you too, Petal.” Niall smiled lifting you up, and spinning the two of you around. “Almost didn't make it, they wanted to delay the flight because there was ice on the run way. I thought it didn't get cold here.”

“It doesn't but a weird cold front is coming through today, but it’ll be gone in a couple of days. Now come on, my mom and dad are waiting for us at the restaurant, and my mom has to go into work in a couple of hours.” You explained grabbing one of Niall’s bags, before you dragged him to your car.

You, and Niall have known each other since before Niall was in One Direction, when you accidentally met on Bebo, you kept in touch as Niall’s fame rose, and you continued with your schooling. You, were only ever able to attend one One Direction concert, and it was the first time that the two of you met face to face. As cliche as it sounds, it was love at first sight for you, but you knew you didn't want to sacrifice the friendship the two of you had gained over the past couple of years and has kept those feelings to yourself. The two of you continued to keep in touch as One Direction started their hiatus, and you started on your second half of University, Niall started to visit you in your home town soon after the hiatus started. Your parents instantly took him in, they had met over face time a couple of times, and they trusted the pop star. It had been a while since he was able to visit because of the release of Flicker, and because of tour, but since the last concert was a couple of days ago, Niall had a couple of weeks of break, before he would go home to visit his family for the holidays.

“It was so nice to see you Niall, I’ll probably see you all in the morning.” Your, said bringing Niall in for a hug before she headed off to work.

“Nice to see you too, if you get too bored call (Y/N), so we can go and visit you like last time.” Niall joked as she shook her head.

“Now that we’re done with lunch, what do you plan on doing?” Your dad asked  tightening the scarf around his mouth, it had dropped a couple of degrees since they all got to the restaurant and it was starting to hail a little bit.

“I actually have my last final at 4:30, so I’m going to have to go to school to study for my final a little while more. So I don't know if you want to stay at home and chill, or come to school with me.”

“I’ll go to school with you, it’ll be fun to actually be at an American College.” Niall gushed in his best American accent, the biggest smile on his face. You shook your head, and bid your dad a bye and headed to school.

"Thats why Pop Art created a huge movement in the U.S., and started a new value system when it came to the creation of art.” You explained coming through the front door, take out hot in your hands, and Niall hot on your heels. “Dad, i’m home and with food!”

“I was about to order some food, but it looks like you read my mind. How was the drive, has the rain and ice been getting worse?” Your dad asked coming out of his room.

“It’s started to get lighter since we left the restaurant, lets hope it’ll stop by the time mom comes home. Now come on, lets eat before the food gets cold.” You said happily, taking off the tinfoil from some of the food containers. The meal was enjoyed because of how much Niall and your father talked, you looked between the two, with a smile on your face. Your dad never got this close to any of your ex-boyfriends, but Niall wasn't your boyfriend. You shook that thought out of your head seeing both Niall and you dad finish with their meal. “Hey, why don't y’all pick a movie to watch? While I clean up.”

“I’m actually heading to bed, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment early tomorrow. So goodnight, i’ll see y’all in the morning.” Your dad said giving you a hug as Niall gathered the empty take away boxes. “Make sure you use protection.” He laughed letting you go.

“Goodnight dad!” You groaned as he waved the two of you off, before going into his room. “Hey, I said I was going to clean. You’ve been through a lot today, I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“It’s no problem, besides, it still feels like I haven't talked to you today.” Niall said looking at you grabbing a couple more of the boxes. You smiled at him before you grabbed the last couple of boxes.

“Niall! Niall! Wake up!” You yelled trying to wake up your best friend from his deep slumber. “Niall please!” You pleaded one more time before you turned on the light to the guest room, where he was sleeping.

“What is it Petal?” Niall moaned, cracking open one eye to find that his best friend had left the room.

“It’s snowing! It’s fucking snowing!” You yelled pocking your head into the door way. “My mom just came from work and she woke me up to tell me it’s snowing!”

“Is it really now?” He asked sitting up from the bed, before he grabbed his phone from the night stand. “It’s almost midnight, did your mum work late again?”

“No, she was giving a friend a ride home, but thats not the point. Put on some warm clothes, and I’ll meet you outside!” You said excitedly trying to put on your Sk8-Hi Vans . Niall couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his best friend, you were wearing two sweaters, a beanie, some leggings with fleece on the inside, and two pairs of fluffy socks. Niall took his time getting ready, since he had just come in from London, so he was prepared for cold weather, and because snow wasn't a foreign concept to him.

“Oh, geez, its really chucking it down isn't it?” Niall asked opening the front door to your house, to find a good inch or two of snow covering the ground and the palm trees that your parents had in the front yard.

“Yeah, it was just ice earlier, but now it’s finally snow.” Your mom commented taking a sip of her coffee, clearly trying to defrost from the cold. “We haven't gotten snow since Christmas Eve 2003, so something like this is rare for us.” She explained looking back at her husband who was drinking his own coffee.

“Niall come on!” You yelled grabbing chunks of snow off your car trying to make a small snowman.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed walking over to you. “Geeze I haven't seen you this excited since your first One Direction concert.”

“I’ve never see it snow like this. Niall, this doesn't happen here!” You yelled into the night, the snow fall dancing around you. “Its absolutely beautiful.”

“Yeah it is, here’s some gloves. Put them on before you get frost bite or something.” Niall chuckled putting them on your cold hands. “You got lucky that I brought some extra, at least I know what to get your for Christmas now.”

“This is the first time that it’s snowed here in over 10 years, you don't need to buy me gloves Ni.” You smiled looking down at the warm gloves in your hands. “Now come on, help me build a snowman!”

“Alright, alright.” Niall laughed, while he wasn't the biggest fan of the cold, and much less the snow, he saw why you were enjoying it so much. The rosiness in your cheeks and on your nose made Niall smile, and cause his own cheeks to turn red. Seeing you this happy made butterflies erupt in his stomach, he’d seen you at your best, and your worst, this was on another level of best, and made him start to think. Would the butterflies still be there, if someone else was making you smile like this? No, he knew he wanted to be the one to make you smile from ear to ear. “What the hell?” Niall yelled feeling a snowball hit him in the side of the head, taking him out of his day dream.

“I’ve been calling you for a while now Ni, gotta pay attention!” You laughed, a mischievous smile on your face, and another snowball ready to throw in your hand.

“You better watch yourself there Petal, I have more experience in snow than you do.” Niall laughed, quickly making a snowball before throwing it at you. Missing, you quickly threw the snowball in hand and hid behind your car, grabbing more snow as you went.

“Snowball fight!” You screamed, not even throwing snowballs anymore, any amount of snow you got in your hands was enough for you. It didn't take long for you to realize that Niall was no longer in your front yard, you looked for his footprints but they had already been buried under another blanket of snow. “Niall?” You called looking for him.

“Got yah!” Niall yelled from behind you, before lifting you over his shoulder.

“Ni! Let me down!”

“Oh, you want to get down do you? Alright.” Niall laughed before he put you on the cold ground.

“Niall! Its cold!” You yelled laughing looking up at Niall who was standing over you. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, the snow flakes in his hair twinkled like stars in the night sky. Smoke filled the air as he continued to laugh, his cheeks and nose turning a scarlet color because of the frost falling onto his cheeks.

“What you looking at there (Y/N)?” Niall asked helping you up from the ground. “Did you hit your head? I didn't mean to!”

“No, no no. I’m fine. Just trying to get over the fact that you tossed me onto the cold hard ground.” You said grabbing his hand, helping yourself up.

“Oh, trouble!” Niall sang holding onto you, making sure you didn't slip.

“Only you would make a Taylor Swift reference.” You laughed pushing him, not realizing he was putting all his weight on a slab of ice.

“Oh, shi-” Niall started before he fell back onto the snow covered ground, taking you with him. It took a minute until the two of you laughed at each other. 

“Oh and you have the advantage over me, but you were the one to fall over a little ice.” You laughed at Niall who was covering his face with his hands, laughing like a mad man.

“You're the one who pushed me Petal!” Niall said leaning on his elbows, not realizing you were still in the same place, now a couple of inches away from each other. Blushing, you leaned away, not wanting to do something that you would regret. What happened next caught you off guard. 

Niall leaned up, closing the gap between the two of you, kissing you gently. It took a couple of seconds before Niall leaned away, his face scarlet.

“I’m sorry! I’ve been wanting to do that in a long time, but I wasn't sure you wanted it too. I’m so so-” Niall started, before you leaned back down kissing him before he could say anything else.

“Who said that I didn't want to kiss you back there Ni?” You smiled looking down at your best friend, your cheeks scarlet at both of your confessions. “I’ve liked you for so long, its become second nature to love you now.”

“Same here Petal.” Niall grinned before he sat up, you still in his lap. “So would you like to be my girlfriend?” You nodded at his question, gaining another kiss from Niall. “Good, cause I told mum that I was bringing my girlfriend over for Christmas.”

“Wait, you were taking me to Ireland for Christmas...”

“I was going to ask you tomorrow after we went to go eat, but the snow fall helped me gain some courage.” Niall confessed, stroking your hot cheek. You shook your head before you wrapped your arms around Niall’s neck, bringing him in for another kiss.