#i am in the lucky position of having QUITE a few sneak peeks about what people are writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weasleyswizardpleases · 3 years

Text

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied.

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in.

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly.

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes.

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George.

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George.

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape.

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is.

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel.

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it.

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her.

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins.

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say.

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings.

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George.

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly.

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs.

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter.

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom.

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.”

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet.

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all.

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring.

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies.

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement.

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop.

“Alright Harry, your turn.”

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry.

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity.

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?”

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.”

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously.

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that.

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!”

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks.

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny.

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break.

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?”

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully.

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore.

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest.

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body.

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep.

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

141 notes · View notes

baka-monarch · 4 years

Text

It’s A Small World Chapter 2: Protecting His Honor

Summary: Virgil has a plan to catch Roman being a bad person, but instead finds some feelings he thought disappeared after ninth grade...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: CUSSING, ANXIETY ATTACK

Prologue Chapter 1

“It’s been three days Patt! Three days!!!” Virgil was in a video call with his brother as he packed a bag. “And he still hasn’t done one bad thing!” Currently he’d been explaining the roommate situation to Patton. For the past three days Roman had been a perfect roommate to Virgil, he’d kept the whole dorm clean, he would cook amazing meals for Virgil by waking up before him and having something always prepared for when the emo came back from class, AND he had yet to fall back into his old pattern of bullying Virgil. He had become the perfect roommate, but Virgil wasn’t quite ready to believe the act.

“Well, is that such a bad thing kiddo?” Patton had been listening to his little brother ramble on for the past hour about all the good things Roman had done as if Roman had done something terrible while... packing a bag? “Maybe he has changed?”

“Patton.” Virgil paused his packing. “People like him don’t change that fast.”

“Yeah but-” Patton tried to argue but was cut off as someone peeked at the screen over his shoulder.

“Patton dear, Virgil’s right. People can change but not that fast.” Janus, Patton’s lover, had been the one to cut off their boyfriend.

“Thank you Jan.” Virgil sighed as Patton had gained an exasperated look of defeat.

“No problem kid.” Janus smiled down at the screen, until his eyes caught on the bag Virgil was preparing with curiosity. “I thought you already finished your classes for the week?”

“Oh, I did.” Virgil had started packing it again, now adding a rather large water bottle.“Then why are you packing a bag?” Janus started adding a little motherly sternness to their voice as they said this.

“I uhm…” Virgil paused and looked at the screen, finding himself facing a worried brother and their glaring significant other. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m going to catch him in the act of being a bad person.” He smiled awkwardly, praying they wouldn’t ask more.

“Yes, but why do you need a bag for that?” Of course Jan would ask more, they are a lawyer after all.

“Well…” Virgil swallowed his nerves. He couldn’t lie to them. Literally. Janus always knew when someone was lying. “Remember when Patton would go to school and I would have to stay in his pocket because I was too young to be alone?”

“Oh Virgil…” “Oh kid....” They both seemed to say at the same time with that disappointed parent voice.

“Virgil you could get hurt!” Patton tried to argue as Virgil quickly zipped up the bag needing to escape this conversation.

“Don’t worry, I thought it through all night and I’ll be fine.” Virgil collected the bag onto his bag.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Janus pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Does it matter?” Virgil blushed.

“Kiddo, you need sleep!” Patton worried. “And you can’t just sneak into people’s pockets!” He scolded.

“It’ll be fine Patt,” Virgil argued, but now was starting to doubt himself. “plus, I have everything I need in this bag.” He slung it onto his shoulders.

“That’s not the point Virgil.” Janus deadpanned. “You should listen to your brother, you could get hurt or worse.” Virgil opened his mouth to argue but Jan beat him to it. “And don’t reference when did it as kids. Patton knew you were in his pocket, Roman won’t. One wrong, unaware move, could seriously injure you and we won’t be there to help. I understand that you want to prove that he isn’t any better than he was in highschool, but there is still three days left in the week, plenty of time to either catch him being that person or to urge him into being like that again. There are other ways.” Virgil stared at the wall. Exhaled. Then closed his laptop.

It was time to get into position. Good thing Roman had left his jacket in the living room last night.

●●●

Roman woke with a start as his alarm blared into his ears. As he checked his phone he found it had actually been going off for the past hour, and he was about to be late to his first day of class. He jumped out of bed and pulled on his clothes for the day, not bothering with a shower, or brushing his hair and teeth. He ran out of his room and snatched his jacket off the floor and threw it on before grabbing his backpack and slipping into it as he rushed out the door. As Roman ran to class his jacket swung around threatening to spill the contents of it’s pockets, luckily there was nothing in it’s pockets.

Or so Roman thought.

As Roman ran Virgil was on the verge of an anxiety attack as he held on for dear life. It was now that Virgil regretted his plan of hiding in Roman’s jacket pocket. Virgil was sure that if he hadn’t had a death grip on the inside fabric of the pocket he would’ve fallen out and gone ‘Splat!’ on the ground by now. He was lucky that he had decided to pack a backpack and not a different type of bag or he would have definitely lost his supplies by now. Maybe he should have listened to Patton and Janus, there definitely were more options to see Roman not be the perfect Prince Charming he was in the dorm. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn back now. For the time being Virgil would have to focus on his breathing and holding onto fabric.

As Roman ran to class Virgil could feel every thump as his pocket hit Roman’s side with every step. Virgil’s heart pace quickened as he could only hear Roman’s pounding footsteps as he stomped down with what sounded like all of his force but Virgil knew Roman was barely touching the ground with how fast he was running, and it was terrifying. Virgil’s mind raced as he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the rest of the world. Breath, just breath. He tried telling himself but it was hard to focus on his thoughts when his ears were pounding from the strain of hearing so many loud sounds, pounding footsteps, a heart beating impossibly fast and loud, breathing that sounded like a tornado, a stomach that just would not stop growling. It felt like hours before Roman burst through what had to be his classroom door, but it had actually been a few minutes.

“Oh thank god… “ Roman exhaled with relief as he had made it on time with a few minutes to spare. He chose a seat off to the side and promptly collapsed in it. Virgil was relieved as Roman sat down and slid down in the pocket as he finally relaxed, taking a moment to let go of the fabric and rest his fingers. Virgil took this time to calm himself as he listened to Roman’s breathing and rhythmic heartbeat. Once Virgil’s breathing had even, he pulled out his phone-like his backpack it had shrunk with him-and focused on Tumb.lr to defray his nerves.

While Roman waited for the professor to arrive he pulled out his phone and got onto Instagram. Not long after he’d gotten his phone out did he receive a message from someone he thought he’d blocked. Heather. His ex from highschool. She had sent him a picture of him sitting in class from the back of the room he was in, with the caption: “didn’t know you’d be here lover boy~” with a heart. Roman took a moment to glance behind him, and sure enough in the very back of the classroom, was the makeup covered, plastic, fake, bitch, Heather. Roman took a moment. Screamed internally. Then blocked Heather on Instagram again. He held back a laugh as he heard her noises of disbelieving offense, but did allow himself to gain a satisfied smile.

“Do you how do, class?” Someone exclaimed as they walked through the door. “I am your teacher, Professor Picani.” He smiled as he gave them all a small bow. “And I am here to teach you about acting!” He smiled brightly. “But for today, let’s get acquainted with each other, shall we? All you have to do today is talk to each other, have fun you sassy lassies.” With that Picani sat at his desk and watched over the room as students took the opportunity to talk to get crazy. Everyone immediately surrounded one desk as someone had pulled out a couple of prop swords and was setting up duels for everyone.

Roman was halfway out of his seat to join them when Heather appeared in front of him saying, “So Roman,” she leaned over him with her hand on his desk, preventing him from moving. Virgil stiffened at her voice, easily recognizing it. “I didn’t think you would be able to afford going here, did you just miss me that much?” She smiled innocently as Roman grimaced.

“No, I got a scholarship for doing theater.” He deadpanned, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to be over. Virgil listened closely from his pocket, surprised by Roman’s harsh tone. Hadn’t he been dating Heather?

“Ooooohhhh.” She said, feigning ignorance. “So they took pity on you and emo fucker?” Virgil flinched at the nickname, but surely now Roman would give up the act?

“No, I think we earned going here.” Roman was curt, cutting his words making them sharp. “Unlike you who paid them to let you in, but just because you’re hee that doesn’t give you the right to say that.”

“Say what? Emo fucker?” She smiled with innocence but a dangerous gleam could be seen in her eyes. She leaned in close to Roman and from the pocket Virgil could feel the shift in atmosphere, both the tension and the heat radiating from the two giant bodies that were now close together. Virgil shifted uncomfortably and scooted back closer to Roman, although he may not like the prep they were better than the bitch any day. Roman gained a look of disgust as he leaned away from her. “Ya know, I heard that you share a dorm with him. Are you an emo fucker, Slut.” Roman promptly blushed and pushed her away from him. As Heather stumbled back she smiled mischievously. Virgil was blushing as he got startled by Roman’s sudden movement to push the bitch away.

“Get away from me!” Roman had exclaimed as he’d pushed her. She just chuckled darkly at him.

“So you are a gay looser?” She gained a sinister smile. “Just like that emo fuck up.” She purred.

“You have no right to talk about him in that way!” Roman exclaimed surprising Virgil. “You can say and do whatever you want about me but you never even talked to him, got to know him, you have no right to treat him the way you do.” Virgil was dumbstruck. Did… did Roman just defend him?

“Oh, and you did?” Heather retorted striking Roman speechless. “That’s what I thought.” With that she walked away leaving Roman to his own devices. Virgil just sat there listening to Roman slow breathing and quick heartbeat. He didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t trust his feelings right now considering the immense heat he could feel spreading across his face. He huddled further into the pocket-not cuddled, he would never cuddle up to Roman! He closed his eyes and decided to take a small nap for now…

●●●

Later that night Virgil crawled out of Roman’s pocket after the prep had fallen asleep and returned to his room in disappointment, having not found what he was looking for. When he finally got back to his usual size he collapsed into bed and checked his phone to find hundreds of messages from both Patton and Janus asking what happened and if he was okay. Instead of texting back, he recorded a little voice message.

“ ‘m fine… Roman might be cute again, updates in the morning…” Then, he slept.

Next Chapter =>

Tag list: @unevencube2554 @bullet-tothefeels @carryondrawing

#sander sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #g/t #giant/tiny #giant #tiny #size shifter #size shifter virgil #patton sanders #janus sanders #tw cussing #tw anxiety attack #emile picani #its a small world

60 notes · View notes

beanie-on-a-string · 4 years

Text

Finally - Modern AU! Dark Crystal AOR

Hey! So, a few months ago, I posted a Dark Crystal AOR Modern AU post, and someone sent in this ask:

And a few months later, here I am. With the fic. Idea by @canadachild9

If you want, you can read my Dark Crystal Modern AU post first for context HERE

“Gurjin, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Aw, come on!” Gurjin rolled over from his sprawl on Brea’s couch, moving into a sitting position and leaning in closer to Brea, who was sitting on the floor in front of him. “We’ve tried everything else.”

Brea scrunched her face up a little. “I still don’t know. Maybe it’s –“

“What’s going on in here?” Tavra poked her head into the living room. “I heard… how shall we say… heated conversation.”

Brea turned to face her sister. “Hello Tavra. What, no Onica this time?”

“Oh no, she’s in the kitchen.” Tavra gestured to the doorway. “She’s cleansing her crystals. Anyway,” she said, smirking, “I didn’t forget the reason I came in here. What’s going on?”

“Gurjin wants to put Rian and Deet on a boat together,” Brea replied. “He thinks that they’re going to confess their love for each other or something.” Just as she said this, Lore, the family pumi, shuffled into the room and curled up into Brea’s lap

Tavra laughed lightly at Lore, then looked back at Gurjin. “You’ve been watching too much Disney lately.”

Gurjin huffed and sprang into a standing position. “We’ve been trying to get these two idiots together for – what, a year now? – but they’re both so dense that they refuse to believe they’re liked back. It’s literal torture, you know. I’m always telling him that Deet very clearly likes him, but then he’s all,” Gurjin’s voice shifted into a mopey impression of Rian, “ ‘Oh no, I don’t know, Gurjin. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.’ It’s so stupid I could cry. Neither of them have made anything even close to a move yet, and anytime we try, they undermine themselves.”

“You have got a point there,” Tavra murmured. Brea emitted a little cry of betrayal as her sister said this. “I mean, whenever I’m around them, I want to kick myself. And trust me, I have come close to actually doing it.”

Brea huffed. “Usually I’m up for these ideas, but this sounds like the equivalent of locking them in a closet, you know?”

“It’s not really like that, Brea,” Gurjin insisted. “A closet has… implications. But a boat? If it goes wrong – and let’s damn hope that it doesn’t – they could just have a conversation or something. And if they don’t like it, they could always swim back to shore.” That last remark earned him a slight dirty look from his friend.

After a moment of thought, Brea spoke up again. “I’m still not convinced. Too many things could go wrong.”

Gurjin pulled at his bun and inhaled. “Okay. Brea. If you don’t do this with me, I will make sure that you find a pigeon in every room in this house.”

Brea’s eyes widened, whispering a soft “no,” as Tavra doubled over.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Brea scowled as they stood at the line where the dock met the grass, watching Rian’s silhouette approach them. “Correction – I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

“Look, it’s nice to drag someone into something instead of being the one dragged into everything for a change,” Gurjin shrugged. Brea shouldered him lightly with a soft “you’re lucky we’re friends.”

“Hey guys!” Rian jogged to them, pulling Gurjin and then Brea into quick hugs, then casually placed his elbow on Gurjin’s shoulder.

“Hi Rian,” Brea giggled as Rian softly poked Gurjin’s bun, the mass of hair slouching to one side.

“Give me a break, why don’t you?” Gurjin lightly bumped his friend off of his shoulder as Rian gave an exaggerated huff. Gurjin rolled his eyes but smiled as he took his hair down to fix it. “Now all we need to do is wait for Deet. Right?”

“Deet?” Rian’s eyes widened. “Deet’s coming?”

“You didn’t know?” Brea asked. “I thought we’d told you.” She turned to Gurjin. “I thought you’d told him!” She hissed quietly.

“I must have forgotten,” Gurjin whispered back. “Sorry. I had to help Naia prepare for a trip, and it completely slipped my mind.”

Brea shook her head a little. “It’s fine. Sorry.” She turned back to Rian, who was quietly waiting, fingers absentmindedly lacing through his necklace.

“So. Deet.” Rian laughed a little nervously. He brushed his bangs out of his face. “Yeah.”

Gurjin resisted the urge to facepalm. “I forgot to tell you about it earlier. She got pretty excited about observing all the plant life out here. She also got pretty excited when she heard you would be coming.” His delivery was one of someone who had gone through all the possible options and was now on his last leg.

“Oh?” Rian’s eyes lit up slightly. “Well –“

“I’m sorry I’m late!” Rian’s gaze snapped over to the girl racing towards them, cheeks flushed from running. She stopped, chest heaving, by Rian, who was staring at her with a wide-eyed mixture of fondness and nervousness. She turned to him and uttered a ‘hello’ with a small smile, and the two observers could swear Rian melted.

“Hello, Deet,” Rian softly said back, all confidence replaced by a flustered air that he never had around anyone else.

“Now that we’re all here,” Brea said, causing Rian and Deet to jump, “we should probably get to the boats.” She approached the rental booth, beckoning to Gurjin, who followed behind, leaving Rian and Deet alone together. For a moment, they did nothing, simply looking at the grass, then each other, then back at the grass again. Finally, Rian spoke up.

“You’ve got a – you’ve, uh –” Fumbling on his words, Rian decided to just pick the leaf out of her hair himself.

“Oh!” Deet’s hand flew up to the spot where Rian had touched it. “Thank you! Are – are there more?”

“I don’t see any more,” Rian said. “Wait, hold on.” He moved closer to her, turning to peek at the back of her head. “Yep, no more.” He pulled back, then frowned. “Deet, you alright?”

Deet furrowed her brows in confusion before realizing that she was holding her breath. She exhaled. “Yes. Thanks, Rian.” She smiled.

He smiled back, pink coloring his cheeks, and was about to say something else when Brea and Gurjin returned, life vests draped over their arms.

“So,” Brea said, clapping her hands together. “We got two boats, each one holding two people.”

“Brea and I are going to take one,” Gurjin said, “and you two can take the other.”

“…Us?” Rian asked after a beat, pointing to him and Deet.

Gurjin gave an exasperated sigh. “Who else? Now let’s get these on.” He threw a life jacket to Rian, who was too busy gazing at Deet to catch it. Deet giggled at the vest lying limp on the grass as she put hers (which Brea had simply handed to her) on. Flustered again, Rian made haste in acting like nothing happened and putting on his vest.

Soon enough, the two boats were on the water. While Gurjin and Brea were comfortably chatting (and sneaking glances at the other boat), Rian and Deet sat on opposite sides of the small rowboat, doing everything they could to keep their feet from touching (and sneaking glances at each other).

Rian cleared his throat. “Deet.”

Deet looked up. “Rian?”

Rian looked up at the sound of his name, surprised for some reason that Deet actually responded. “Oh. Yes. Um, lovely day, isn’t it?”

She giggled, her large black eyes glittering. “Oh yes, absolutely! It’s absolutely beautiful. Everything looks so alive.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can see what you mean. How’s Fizzgig?”

“He’s alright,” she replied, referring to her pet dog who seemed more like a pompom with teeth than an actual canine. “He’s been a little more feisty than usual these past few days, but otherwise, he’s okay.” She grimaced. “I bet Hup’s got quite a few bandages on his fingers.”

Rian clucked his tongue, shaking his head a little. Hup was a boy who lived a couple houses away from Deet. He had big dreams of becoming a knight and was never seen without his trusty sword in hand. (It was actually a large wooden spoon, but everyone chose not to say anything about it.) He was often seen fighting dragons (Fizzgig) and saving a damsel in distress (often Deet, or a halfway enthusiastic Brea).

“I wonder what Brea and Gurjin are up to,” Rian mused. Deet followed his hand as he ran his fingers through his bangs to keep them out of his eyes, then squinted through the sunlight to watch the other boat. Turns out, the other boat was watching them, and Deet laughed as the other two waved to them.

“They can be so strange,” she giggled as she leaned cautiously to observe a particularly large lily pad. As she did this, Gurjin started waving frantically to Rian. Rian furrowed his brows, mouthing a “What?” Gurjin mouthed something, and Rian grimaced, circling his pointer finger in an ‘again’ motion. Gurjin mouthed again, and this time Rian understood.

Tell her.

Ah. So that’s what this was. Rian ran his hands through his hair again, this time in slight annoyance, as he pulled his phone out.

You: Really?

You: Did you set us up?

Gurjin is typing…

Gurjin: maybe

You: DUDE.

Gurjin: I’m sorry I’m just rlly rlly tired of watching you two making goo goo eyes at each other

Rian rolled his eyes.

You: We don’t make goo goo eyes. Please

Gurjin: yes u do

You: Shut up

Gurjin: tell her and I will

“Rian? Is everything alright?” Rian’s head snapped up, and his eyes softened immediately at the sight of Deet, hand just touching the surface of the water with a small, concerned frown.

“Yes, it’s all good,” Rian replied as he tucked his phone away.

“I was wondering... may I braid your hair? I mean, there’s not much to do on this boat, and –“

“Of course, Deet,” he said, already turning so that his back was to her. “Shall I scoot back, or…”

“No, no, I’m on it,” she said, the boat creaking quietly when it shifted under her weight. Rian could feel her breath on his neck as she gathered his hair up and gently tugged it away from his neck.

“I can never believe how long your hair is,” Deet murmured as she combed her fingers through his hair. Shutting his eyes at the sensation, he leaned into her touch.

“It’s beautiful,” she continued as she sectioned his hair into parts. “My hair could never be this soft. It’s like it’s made of silk.” She made to brush away a wisp that had fallen away from a section, but her hand caught the necklace instead.

“Nngh,” Rian’s eyes fluttered open and he winced as the necklace began to grow tight against his neck. “Deet…”

“Hm?” She felt a tug against her finger and saw the necklace wrapped around it. Then she saw Rian. “Holy Thra!” She twisted her finger, and the necklace fell back onto Rian’s neck. She could hear him suck in a breath. “Rian, I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s alright,” Rian quickly waved his hand.

“Should I stop?”

“No! No, please continue.”

“Alright then,” she said as she adjusted again, picking up the sections. After some braiding, she spoke up again. “I’ve never asked about your necklace.”

“Oh.” Rian’s voice was deeper, more relaxed. Deet could feel the blush growing on her cheeks at the sound of it. “It was a gift from Mira. She left before you moved here. A year before, maybe.”

“That’s lovely. What’s the bottle in the front?”

“Ah. The vial.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “A few years back, Mira and I… we used to date.”

Deet blinked. “You did?”

“…yeah, we did. We eventually broke up. Well, obviously,” he said, the smile back in his voice. “but it was on good terms. When she was about to leave, she gave me this. She made it herself. The vial was… something of an inside joke that’s kind of a long story to tell – don’t worry, I’ll tell you eventually – and something to remember her by. Oh, and it glows in the dark.”

She laughed. “I like glow in the dark things.”

“I know you do.” His words were interlaced with a chuckle.

“Okay – done.” She leaned back a little to admire the French braid in his hair, smiling at the streaks of blue peeking through the brown.

“Can I see?”

“ ‘Course you can! It’s your hair, after all,” she said as she pulled out her phone. Leaning back just a little bit more to get the right angle, she snapped a picture. “Here.”

Deet leaned back in to show Rian, and he twisted to look.

“It’s amazing,” he breathed, sounding as awed as the first time she had braided his hair.

“Thank you,” she whispered back. Rian was suddenly aware of how close they were, and that their hands were touching, and-

“I like you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, and he couldn’t catch them in time. Deet froze.

“What?” Her voice was quiet, shaking. He slowly looked up at her. Her large eyes were on him, wide and surprised.

He inhaled. “I like you, Deet. A lot. It may even be more than a lot. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way –”

“Are you crazy?”

Damn it, Rian, he cursed himself. You were an idiot to think she’d ever return your feelings. He looked back down, shoulders beginning to sag.

“Of course I like you.”

What? “You- you-” He looked at her again and nearly melted. Her eyes were soft, and she was beaming. “I thought you didn’t –”

“I thought you didn’t!” Deet began to laugh, which caused Rian to do the same. Soon, the two were laughing so hard the boat began to sway dramatically, and the laughter died down as the gripped the edges of the boat to keep from capsizing. Rian met Deet’s eyes, a silly grin wide on his face.

After some time, she spoke up. “I would really like to kiss you right now.” She blinked, her eyes wide. “Sweet Mother Aughra, did I just say that out loud?”

Rian chuckled, scooting closer to her. “Yes, you did. And I would just like to say that… I wholeheartedly accept your offer.”

“Oh, good, ‘cause I-” She wasn’t able to finish the sentence before Rian had brushed his lips against hers.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Rian muttered, face impossibly close to hers. His voice was low again, but heavy this time. Deet was sure she was blushing furiously.

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered back. She saw his eyes flick down to her lips, then back up to her.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked quietly.

Deet answered by closing the distance between them. She could feel Rian’s arms wrap around her back, gently pulling her closer. She slowly moved her hand to rest on the back of his neck, her fingers lightly tangled in the wisps of hair too small to stay in the braid. She tried to soak up the moment as best she could. She wanted it to last forever.

“FINALLY!”

Deet and Rian jumped back in surprise, Deet emitting a little yell of shock. Gurjin was close to standing, Brea attempting (and failing) to tug him back down as her laughter resounded across the area.

“I’ve been waiting for goddamn ages. Ages!”

Deet turned her head slightly to Rian, her eyes meeting his. She raised a brow, clearly amused. “Rian, how long exactly have you liked me?”

“Uh…” he ran his hands through his bangs. “Around since you moved here, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh?” Two years? Deet began to giggle. “Two years? Rian, I- I-” she couldn’t find the words, so she settled on pulling him close again and pressing her lips to his.

xxx

#The Dark Crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #the dark crystal aor #rian #deet #gurjin #brea #tavra #the dark crystal fanfiction #the dark crystal fic #the dark crystal modern au #the dark crystal headcanon #the dark crystal aor headcanon #tdc lore #tdc hup #hup

25 notes · View notes

msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

Sneak peek Sunday 26/04/2020

Thanks for the tags: @kacie-0156 @thecordoniandiaries 😘

I’ve been pretty useless recently with work and nausea all the time. But when I’ve had motivation I have been writing. Hoping to post a few things this week as i have six days off work - YAY! 🙌🏼... if anyone has tagged me in anything, I’ve got the notifications and will catch up tomorrow ❤️

Warnings: swearing, slight smut.

Tags- using combined tag list off the top of my head:

@pedudley @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @texaskitten30 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @hopefulmoonobject @lodberg @axwalker @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @yukinagato2012 @cordonianroyalty @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @jared2612 @desireepow-1986 @twinkle-320 @queenjilian @bebepac @drakewalkerisreal

****

A Second Chance

@kacie-0156 did me an amazing moodboard of my Royal family from my series ‘Hold on’ and ‘A Second Chance’ .. I was so frustrated because I can’t do them for the life of me, you are a little superstar! 😘🥰❤️

Louis Alexander Rhys (Aaron Brueckner), Riley Brooks/Rhys (Emily Rudd), Ayah Olivia Rhys (Grace Phipps), Liam Rhys (Kevin Lutolf), Eleanor Hana Rhys (Indiana Evans).

Below is a snippet from the next chapter ⬇️

Drake knew that everything she had gone through was due to that one poor decision he had made in the past.

“I suppose I should thank you for making me strong then? I’m going to head back, just to make sure that Maxwell hasn’t set your home on fire.” Laughing, she knew that Maxwell was capable to be involved in any calamity.

“I’ll come with you.” Drinking the remainder of his beer, he stood up ready to return to the cabin. Riley placed her hand onto his arm, focusing her eyes on to his.

“You don’t have to. I interrupted you. I talk to Liam all the time, I still phone him. I know how important it is to have these moments. I’ll see you back at the cabin, Glen is waiting to escort me.” Providing him with a tight hug, they stayed in that position for a while. “I’ll see you soon.” Caressing his cheek, she smiled softly at him. Drake nodded towards Glen who was stood in the distance, as Riley walked away. Knowing that she was safe with her guard, he still felt the need to be that extra protection.

Let it be, he whispered. Picking up the guitar he slung it over his shoulder, then picked up the empty beer bottles. Gazing up towards the brightest stars one more time, he blew a lingering kiss. I love you Hana. I love you Liam. I miss you both so much.

****

One Temptation

Maxwell had been quickly to meet his lover, not wanting to disclose her identity just yet. He knew that Drake was never precise with his timings. Giving a certain time that he would be back, didn’t matter. Half of the time he was early or late- never at the estimated time of arrival as provided.

“Hi, can I help you? You look lost.”

“Hello, this is probably a long shot but I’m looking for someone. Well some people infact.”

“Names?” Asking for the information, Maxwell would help anyone in need. Even strangers.

“Walker.” Must be his lucky day. Maxwell thought to himself as he shrugged.

“Which one? There’s Bianca, Savannah and Drake.” The mans defeated facial expression soon broke into a smile. Relieved that he had unexpectedly bumped into this stranger. Hoping that Maxwell could provide him with the information that he required.

“Ah splendid. So you know them? Could you explain where I may find Drake?”

“Come in buddy, today is your lucky day! He lives with me.” Escorting the stranger into the apartment- Maxwell was delusional, and far too trustworthy.

“Tea? Coffee? Biscuit?” Maxwell asked, being the good hostess. Shaking his head politely, the man became fidgety- hoping that Drake wasn’t going to waste his time.

“So I didn’t quite catch your name....”

“Theron. Hakim Theron.”

“Cool name, bro. So are you in business with Drake or something?” Drake was very private with his life, his colleagues- anything really. So Maxwell was intrigued as to who the mystery man was. Where he was from. What he wanted.

“Something like that...”

“You could tell me to pass the time away, or we could just sit here twiddling our thumbs?” Rolling his eyes back, he often wondered what Drake saw in this city- especially sharing an apartment with someone who acted like goofy.

“Let’s just say, I’m a family friend. My investments are very important to me. I am paying to upkeep the Walker ranch back in Texas and between myself and the Walkers we had an agreement. However, Bianca and Leona have gone awol. I need to know if I’m selling it for a huge profit or if I need to hire some staff during their absence.”

“Well shouldn’t you be discussing that with them, rather than Drake? I can give you the address.” Grabbing a scrap piece of paper, Maxwell began jotting Bertrand’s address down. Not thinking anything bad would come of it.

“Thank you. However I do need to talk to Drake too. This involves him as well. You see, part of the agreement was that Drake married my daughter for the generosity of my support. I just wanted to inform him that we have set a date for those nuptials. A month today.”

****

We Belong

“This is him. Isn’t he gorgeous? Like a Greek god. This is Evie’s potential second failed engagement. I mean they haven’t even kissed yet...” Elise sniggered along with the other women whilst ‘swooning’ over him.

“We aren’t into the whole PDA. I like to keep my sex life private with my fiancée.” Empathising the word fiancée he had hoped that that would be the end of it.

“We don’t care. Do we girls? Just kiss.” Elise was peer pressuring them as she wasn’t convinced that their relationship was sincere. Narrowing her eyes towards Evie’s direction, she pointed towards the watch on her wrist. Tick tock.

“Oh, I will be kissing him and doing a whole lot more when we return to the hotel. Isn’t that right darling?” Evie placed her hand across Liam’s chest, looking up towards his with a fake seductive expression.

“Just kiss. What’s the issue?” Evie turned her head towards Liam, cupping his cheek. Just pretend that you are movie star, Evie. It’s fake. That woman isn’t digging her claws into someone else’s man. Kissing Liam slowly to begin with, his hands roamed her body as the kiss deepened. Opening her mouth, he slipped his tongue in- both tongues battling against each other. Breaking the kiss, Evie noticed that Liam enjoyed that kiss far too much than he should have.

“Did you enjoy your ‘live porn’? I mean this is what I do to my fiancé...”. Pointing to his obvious erection, the women all gasped- all now swooning even more over the handsome stranger. Elise grit her teeth together, before dragging her ‘minions’ away.

“What the fuck Liam? Seriously! Can’t you control yourself?”

“You came on to me... I can’t help it. I’m a man.”

“Riley is going to chop your dick off your Majesty. I’m telling Drake why we kissed. To save that slut from ruining anymore relationships. No need to thank me. No matter how hard you resist, Elise always get what she wants. It’s up to you if you tell your wife.”

“You enjoyed it really, Duchess Evangeline.” Winking he was only joking. Even though he had cheated on Riley he did secretly enjoy it- but that kiss was closure even if it was fake. He realised that Evie wasn’t want he wanted anymore. Riley and his child was his world. As much as he loved Evie, he was grateful with how fate had occurred in his life.

“Your Majesty. Duchess Evangeline. Drake. Riley. Not so innocent are we Evie?” Elise spoke quietly standing in the shadows overhearing the conversation- her imagination began to roam wild.

****

The Unexpected Roommate

“Have I done something wrong?” Drake questioned, hoping that he hadn’t fucked up. Hearing Leo snort in the background, he turned his head towards his friend scowling. Leo responded by smirking and shrugging his shoulders.

“No. Why?”

“You overheard what I said... stop lying. That’s why you ignored me. It’s not like that at all, I said that....”

“I heard it all. Yes. Don’t worry about it. We’re not in a relationship. It was just sex remember? Sounds like you have a ‘fuck buddy’ already- don’t include me in your games or sexual needs anymore.”

“I’d rather you be my ‘fuck buddy’.” Fuck. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Taking a deep breath, he regretted saying that instantly. He was kind of expecting a right hook. “What happened between us was amazing, Riley.”

“Yeah it was.” Not sounding too confident she didn’t want to make out that she was jealous over him being involved with someone else. Whether it was in the past, or in the present. Reaching out for her hand, he held it tightly not knowing how she would react to the gesture.

“So what do you say? Make a little arrangement? If you want ‘us’, we can start as casual sex- then see where it goes?”

“You’re fucking insane, Drake. Go back to hating me.”

“I’d say I’m an attractive guy, you’re a gorgeous girl when you’re not an arsehole.”

“You’re so vein. I do have a rule, if we do this though...No kissing on the lips.”

“But we did that last night. Why?”

“That was this morning actually. Because if we aren’t in a relationship, what’s the point in being intimate?” Drake’s heart sunk, not realising why. Now he had kissed her, knowing what it felt like- he wanted to continue that.

“Okay, fine. I’ll see you later then?” I’ll kiss those lips, don’t you worry Riley.

“Yup. Bye Leo.” Leo waved from a distance, not really wanting to get involved in the blossoming love life between his two friends.

“Ri?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being a jerk... I’m starting to fall...” Fall for you. “fall behind with the housework. I’m only going into work for a few hours. I’ll clean up when I’m back.”

“Wait for me to come back. I’ll help you. 50/50 remember. My nails are fucked anyway.” Providing a little laugh, she headed towards her room- not fully aware of what she had just agreed to. Not knowing if that was actually what she wanted. Deep down, she wanted more after their night together. She wondered if he did too. Or if indeed he was just happy with the friends with benefits arrangement.

Drake sat down besides Leo, his head fell into his hands. This girl had got into his mind, he suggested the ‘friends with benefits’ hoping that she would decline the offer. Hoping that they could begin a relationship instead. He just didn’t have the confidence to express what his heart truly wanted - she made him weak at the knees. Although he would never confess that. Not yet anyway. He was unsure as to if he would ever be able to admit to his true feelings.

“Now I may not be a translator, but that was the biggest amount of bullshit ever stated, Drake” Leo knew Drake and he knew for a fact what his friend meant when he stuttered after the word ‘falling’.

#trr #trr fanfic #trr au the unexpected roommate #trr au one temptation #trr we belong #trr a second chance #drake x riley #evie x liam #maxwell beaumont #leo rhys #tw slight smut #tw swearing

28 notes · View notes

zach-the-fox · 4 years

Text

Frostfur Episode 4: Guardian

My eyes flutter open to the light against my face as it creeps in through the cervices of the boards in the window, yet the wind still howls outside and the snow falls lighter than it did last night. Pushing myself into a sitting position, I look around to see the girls are lying in their bedrolls, eyes shut and not a single movement of any limbs. They still sleep peacefully, dreaming perhaps, but I am the first one up. It’s best if I check our supplies and see how much food we’ve got left. Searching the rations, I count just enough for a day. There’s really not much left, so I must go out and scavenge or hunt. Knowing the girls will be alone when they wake, I’m slow to my feet and make it out the door, closing it behind to avoid waking them. I promise, I’ll be back soon.

I ready my rifle and wander around the frozen grove, scanning for potential sources of food. We won’t survive on just a day of rations. Our trip to Winterhome could take longer than a day, and starving is not an option. It’s going to be tough, since the winter has forced plants to hibernate, not knowing when they’ll wake, and the poor animals that are hungry, yet have nothing to eat while the cold persists. Nature’s life cycle has frozen to a standstill, literally. However, some are still clinging onto life as the lucky ones, finding food here and there much like the beast from Emmy’s cave. Emmy… I hope she’s doing all right. If I’m lucky, then her cold may subside enough for us to continue our travels. I just hope she and Carly didn’t wake to think I’ve gone to abandon them…

As I’m deep with worry, that’s when my ears twitch. The sounds of gruntled roars catch me off guard and cause me to turn to the source of the sound. Raising my rifle, I sneak over toward the snow-covered brushes. When I peek through, I’m emotionless as to what I’ve found; a large reindeer lies incapacitated on the cold ground. Both its legs are cut badly, and the cold is not helping with its condition. The animal still struggles to move, shouting at the wind, unable to get back on its hooves. It remains lying there as if not having the will or the strength to get back up. This is a perfect opportunity to gain some meat from it. I aim my rifle at the prefect spot. My finger rests on the trigger, ready to fire the blow. It’s been a few seconds, and yet I haven’t made the action that’ll decide this animal’s fate. That’s because another feeling has come over me to combat my excitement for free meat; sorrow. This animal was wandering in the frozen woods not too long ago, and got hurt by something. Now, unfortunate as it is, it lies out in the open, suffering through the cold weather and starving. Letting out a sigh, I lower my rifle and walk over to the creature with ease. Catching a glimpse of me, the mammal only stares up at the stranger that has walked into its view.

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” I say. “And there’s no way to heal from it… All you can feel is pain and suffering… You just want it all to end, don’t you?” The animal remains silent as if knowing what I mean. “I understand what you’re feeling… It’s never good to suffer… I can fix that for you…” I line my shot up to its head. “I’m sorry…” I squeeze the trigger. Bang! The reindeer ceases its movement and lies there motionless. I know what I did was cruel, but it was necessary because we need food, and I didn’t want this poor creature to suffer. I’m wasting time… I put my rifle away and take out my knife, making my way to the side of the dead mammal. Kneeling on my knees and stabbing its belly, I slice my blade across and open the stomach, where I proceed to cut the biggest parts of the animal. Blood pools by my knees, so I’m forced to lift them and bend my back. It’s painful to bend my back, putting stress on it while doing work. Talk about pain and suffering… Just a few more cuts and I’m done. I need as much meat as I can take so none of us end up hungry. Finally, after taking the last bits of the carcass, I stand and slide my knife away. Not too much meat, but it’ll do. And so, I make my way back to where the shack stands.

My mind is still troubled, though. Thinking back about the reindeer makes me think about things that have happened in my own past. In Liverpool’s orphanage, I was always the weak one, pushed by most of the kids who resided there. When you’re small and alone, you are easy prey for those who are bigger. I have not made a single friend from that orphanage, either because everyone thought I was something from the underworld, or they’d leave before you’d get to know them. Yes, I’ve had a sad life in Liverpool. I guess that’s why I’ve joined the royal army. I was sick and tired of being labeled as the “weak one”. I also think it’s unfair how nature picks off the weak and chooses the strong over them without giving them a chance. My destiny is to help those who are helpless and defend them from any harm that comes to them. And with the world now covered in snow and ice, things are much harder for the weaklings. Nonetheless, we’ve always triumphed over nature, and we shall triumph over it again!

I’m back at the shoddy cabin, now. As walk through the door and close it behind me, I’m greeted with yawns. The girls have just woken up and shift their gazes at me. “Rise and shine, Ladies,” I tell them. “Slept peacefully?”

“Zach,” Emmy begins, letting out a cough as soon as she speaks. “Where have you gone?”

“Was only out for a few minutes,” I explain. “Just needed to look for extra food for our journey. Can’t make it to Winterhome on empty stomachs now, can we?”

“We shouldn’t really go out just yet,” protests Carly. “Emmy is still sick, isn’t she?”

“Aye,” I reply. “Perhaps some venison stew may help with that cold.” I approach the woodpile, replenish the stock, and start another fire. Taking an iron pot and cooking set with some spoons and bowls found from the corner, I set up the suspension above the fire before placing the pot on it. Then, I add the venison, and some snow found from outside. As we’re waiting for the stew to cook, I sit back and begin a new conversation. “So, girls, what are your plans for when we reach Winterhome? Aside from hugging your families.”

“Hopefully please the people with good art,” Carly answers. “It’s hard now to be happy in a world full of snow. I want to make everyone happy with whatever I draw, and give them inspiration to never give up and just keep on as if it’s nothing.” Quite a good dream at that. Making people happy with art doesn’t seem like a terrible idea. In fact, I’m sure the citizens of Winterhome wouldn’t mind viewing marvelous works the cat has created. Huh, it really makes me ponder the kind of stuff Carly has drawn. I’ll have to ask her for the sketches of her sketchbook.

“I…” Emmy takes her time to explain her new purpose. “I have no clue… It hasn’t crossed my mind on what I plan to do once we get to Winterhome.” She lets out a cough.

“You hadn’t given any thought to it?” asks Carly. “Well, I’m sure being an engineer, you’ll get to do a lot of technological stuff like building machines for the city.”

“I’m not sure I want to be an engineer anymore… I’m quite interested in in the arts and want to pursue that kind of career in it.”

“Okay,” I add. “That’s fine, if there even is room to be an artist. I wish you both luck on your aspirations.”

“How about you, Zach,” Emmy utters before a cough. “What are your plans for Winterhome?”

I hadn’t given it much thought. I was mostly concern about the safety of both her and Carly, as well as anyone else I had encountered, that I was blind to think of my own future in the new world. So, I muster up something that is understandable. “I look after those who are weak and unable to fend for themselves. If they allow it, I could be assigned to help watch over the people.”

“What does that mean?” Carly butts in. “In what way would you watch over the people?”

“Just as a guard,” I explain. “You’ve seen the riots and the unrest around the world, haven’t you? When crops of the world suddenly died and the imminent cold caused mass panic?” The two girls nod. “Even in an apocalyptic winter, there is bound to be unrest and riot. There needs to be order, especially in a new civilization.”

Emmy continues to nod her head. “Okay, I understand. You’re very kind and protective, Zach. We appreciate everything you’ve done and what you are doing now. If you hadn’t come along, I would’ve been killed in that cave.” She coughs again.

Carly agrees with her. “The same goes with me. Only, if you didn’t stop and encounter me, I would’ve fallen into the springs and froze to death.”

Their words nearly bring tears to my eyes, yet I try hard to hold them back as it shows a sign of weakness. So, my mouth bends into a smile to show my reaction. “Thank you.” The fumes of the venison meat fill my nostrils, bringing me back to reality and reminding me that I’ve got food to dole out to hungry girls, and I. “Oh! I nearly had forgotten!” I stir the pot with a spoon nearby and ready some bowls of the stew. “Fresh venison stew?” After readying a bowl each, I hand each one to the girls before taking one myself. “This will help combat the cold.”

“Couldn’t we have had our rations instead?” Carly queries.

“We could’ve,” I answer. “But, warm rations are not really a pleasant meal. Besides, I’ve got enough meat to last us a few more days from my hunt.”

“This stew is delicious,” comments Emmy, taking the spoon from her mouth and then swallowing. “You learn to make this with the army?”

“I’m not really too good of a cook, but I’ve learned to dish up some simple, yet delicious meals here and there. Perhaps the citizens of Winterhome can cook better than I can when we get there.” That actually reminds me, we have to get back on our travels.

“I’m not to sure it’s all right,” Carly says. “Isn’t Emmy still sick?”

“It’s nothing more than a cold,” protests Emmy. “I don’t feel as ill as I did from last night.”

I face her, concerned for her health. “You sure about that? We can rest for a few more hours until you are ready.”

“I’ll be fine,” she juts. “I just need more of this venison stew.” The warthog continues to slurp on the steaming liquid of mouth-watering meat. Carly and I both follow her motives, taking our time to finish the well-cooked soup I had prepared for us. Though, I would’ve liked for us to have been up and about already, which would have us in Winterhome by this hour. But, nonetheless, we shall wait longer, for food is more important, and we will talk away as we finish the last of our hot meal.

@carlycmarathecat @emmy-the-absolute-goof

#Frostpunk #Fursona #Fox #Cat #Warthog #Furry #Furry_art #Fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

swervestrickland · 5 years

Text

Yankee Candle, pt. 2

Part 1

(gif by @doedreamss)

____

“Time limit?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

He fumbled with his wrist watch, setting himself a timer for half past one. This was probably the most invested he’d ever been in a competition (and he was a wrestler!). Gazing down at this sweet, gorgeous woman next to him, Adam gave her a playful smile and steeled himself against her charms.

“So the rules are set. We have fifteen minutes to find a scent the other will like. No phone calls to friends or family, no checking google, no help of any kind. Just memory. That all right with you?” He raised a brow at Emi, who had already hardened herself and kept glancing at the glass doors of the candle store, eager to win the race and get the hell out of there.

“Perfectly fine, horse boy. Let’s go, let’s go!” She poked him playfully, bouncing up and down in a way that reminded him of his own jitter bugs at the start of a match.

“Okay, okay. Ready? Set. Go!” He sideswiped a man walking out of the door with his wife, leaving Emi in the dust.

She squealed to herself, hand curling into a fist at the thought of bein’ bamboozled. “Horse? More like an ass!” She mumbled quietly, wasting no more time in entering the candle establishment and positioning herself in the exact direction opposite where Adam found himself. She popped her head over the shelves, peering at the section he was in. She noted the candles were organized by overall comparable scents, and color. He had a blue candle in his hands.

Damn it, he knows me too well.

Turning around, she looked at the scents around her. They were all fruity. She picked out a red one, Sugared Cinnamon Apple, and smelled it. She noticed the apple first, then the cinnamon, and finally the sweet hints of vanilla and nutmeg. She closed her eyes, and she was instantly taken back to a Christmas long ago. She loved it, but maybe it was a bit much for the cowboy. She set it back down, and picked up another, but looked around first for her sweetheart.

Her eyes found him in line at the cash register, and her heart dropped unexpectedly. He was done? How was he done? How was that even possible?

“Babe?” She called out.

His curly lion’s mane quickly turned, revealing a satisfied grin on his face, his eyes filled with daring. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

God, he looked so good there. One hand resting at his belt buckle, the other firmly grasping the candle he’d chosen, his plaid long sleeved button-down and blue jeans hugging his thick body in a way only they could. Emi’s ears pricked up at the quiet gasps and murmurs of the women around her (and even the men?), trying their best not to sneak a peek at her hunk of a man, and failing miserably. She cleared her throat before speaking. “Um, you found the candle already?”

He looked down at the candle in his grip, and back at her with a smile. “Just got lucky I guess.”

“Damn you.”

“Whaaat.”

She gave him a frown.

“Better hurry, you only got twelve minutes left,” he looked down at his watch.

She frowned harder, and began searching frantically for the perfect scent. Given that it was nearing autumn, she found an entire section of autumn themed candles. Autumn Leaves, Spiced Pumpkin, and even a few Halloween ones. Her eyes landed on the deep purple wax of a new scent: Haunted Hayride. Emi picked it up, turning the jar around to get a view of the description.

This aromatic woody scent opens with a purifying charcoal accord and warming spice notes of black pepper and nutmeg.

She squealed internally. This sounded just like something he’d enjoy.

Opening the jar, she took in a deep breath through her nostrils. She smelled it, all right: the wood, the charcoal, the spices. Like something out of a chilly autumn afternoon when he cooked something on the grill, the few times they were home with his parents. This has to be it, she thought.

Pleased with herself, she made her way to the cash register, surprised to find him still waiting.

“Thought you’d be out of the line by now,” she observed audibly.

“Well, remember we have to smell the candles first. Then we buy’em if they’re good. Plus, I was kinda lettin’ everyone in front of me, I wanted to wait on you.”

“Oh,” she blushed. “Right.”

He beamed at her. “So? What’d you get? Last goes first.”

Confused by the rule he just made up but not entirely unwilling to go first, Emi showed him her candle.

He took it daintily from her hands and rotated it with his thick fingers. “Haunted Hayride, huh?”

“Yep.” She did her best to sound confident in her choice.

He pulled the top off slowly, so as to take his time. It just made her antsy, and she bobbed up and down. “Hurry!” she pleaded, tugging gently at his plaid sleeve.

“All right, sweetheart, all right. Relax.” He gave her a stern look, the same kind of look he gave his schoolkids once upon a time when they were being too much to handle. She immediately stopped, her chest swelling with an emotion she couldn’t quite comprehend. Was it getting hot in there?

“Hmm. I’m getting hints of. Something smoky.” He frowned, staring into the jar. “Is that—?” Another whiff. “Charcoal? And nutmeg?” His brows peaked on his forehead.

Her heart dropped. He didn’t like it.

“You don’t like it,” she said aloud, shoulders sagging.

“What? No,” he struggled to come up with the words, “it’s okay, but I don’t think that’s something I’d pick off the shelf, you know what I mean? Maybe for my dad. But not for me. It’s just not my kinda pop tart. Probably eat it if I had to, but it’s not a favorite.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

He quickly put the candle back where Emi found it and pulled her into a hug upon his return. “It’s okay, not everyone’s as good at picking out candles like I am.”

Emi pulled back a bit to look him in the eyes. “You’re so sure I’m going to like your candle, huh?”

Adam chuckled. “I mean, at this point it doesn’t really matter now, does it? I’ve already won my part. Now all that matters is whether you win yours.”

Emi mulled it over. “This system was rigged from the start.

Adam grinned, and handed her the blue candle. They were one person from the register, now. “For the record, I liked the color. Purple’s nice. A simple lilac would’ve sufficed on the scent, though.”

“I’ll take note for next time.” She checked the name of the candle. Turquoise Sky. “Fuck, that sounds perfect.” She took a deep breath of the aroma, and absolutely hated him for it. She could smell the ocean breeze, a soft hint of lilies, and that quiet, wooden scent. It was stunning. She wanted to punch him. “And. It’s perfect. I hate you.”

“You love me. Tell me, is there any other man in your life that knows how to pick candles like I do?” He held her close by the hips, tummy bumping into buckle, and the feel of something else beneath. She gazed into his eyes, taking note of something lustful that gathered there.

“Nobody can pick a candle like you can, Adam Page.”

“That’s Mister Hangman to you, miss.”

“Shut up, oh my goodness.” She pecked him sweetly on the nose.

“Next in line!” The cashier called, and they pulled apart, and paid for the candle.

Walking out of Yankee Candle, Emi started to pull him by the hand to the furniture store, but was shocked at his immobility. He wouldn’t budge.

“Adam, furniture time? Sheets? Home goods? For the house we never stay in?”

He shook his head, golden curls glistening in the light, framing his absolutely devilish smile. “Nuh-uh. We made a deal.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, uh. About that…right now?”

He nodded silently, his eyes absolutely beaming with delight, and they made their way to the lingerie store.

“Okay, then. Right now.”

#mine #my fics #im baby for this man

26 notes · View notes

undermycitadel · 5 years

Text

It’s Dark Up Here

Mick doesn’t love me. I know he doesn’t. But when he needs a bed for the evening I have to let him in and when he needs a lover for the night I must give myself to him. He knows that I will always open my arms to him and keep him satisfied so he keeps coming back. I can’t make him stay. If he compliments me on my loyalty and looks then he must he love me one night then throw me away. When he’s under the influence or wants for me to join him for a night of coke and fun he feels so free but can’t express more of what needs from me outside of that. I suppose he must keep up with his image. I’m the practice he needs when he feels things are slipping is searches for his mojo in anyone he can find, but I’m doubtful that he isn’t genuine in our conversations. He is a sort of friend with added benefits- unintentionally that way. I haven’t got any proof besides the couple of letters he has sent. I know he doesn’t love me, but when I read them in my room of reticence I think otherwise. The thought of him wanting me is overwhelming.

Nobody wants to see me. I deny myself the gorgeous things of life in hopes what I’d really like to come my way will but I don’t quite understand what they are yet. Voices in my head put me down constantly and I try not to listen but the sounds always find ways to get through and break me into isolation. Ever since the eve of my seventh birthday, they’ve stuck with me. I’m now twenty and they’ve yet to relent. It makes me believe I don’t deserve this life but he makes me feel so good for the few hours we spend together. He throws me away but I’m holding onto how I made him feel so good. I have a problem that I’ll never fully understand.

I hear my telephone’s spattering so I fly out of bed to answer. I feel awfully lightheaded and sit on the desk with my legs folded over and my head in my hand. It’s about twelve in the afternoon and I haven’t yet had a bite of anything to eat since yesterday. But Mick is ringing. Oh, sweet Jagger. Butterflies in my stomach go crazy as he says “Hi, Karis. How are you doing this evening?” and I couldn’t care less about food.

“I’m doing alright, thank you. There’s a bit of rain today... Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What are you doing today?”

“Um...” I turn back at my messy spread, “I’ve been in bed about all day. I’ve got nothing really keeping me.”

“That works out just perfectly, doesn’t it? I’d like to see you sometime today. I’ll make it worth your while.” His smile is evident through the line. It’s too dark up here to tell if I truly want this. I want to protest and make up a story about what I’ll be doing for the day but I can’t bring myself to refuse his visit. I miss his touch and tell him that my door is wide open only for him and he likes that. He’ll be around within the hour.

I don’t eat before he comes. Instead, I change my sheets for the first time in ages and prepare a pot of coffee. Then I go into the bathroom and stare into the mirror. I’ve left my makeup from the day before to rest on my face overnight. I don’t wash it off or brush my teeth yet because I’m distracted by the hollows of my collarbones. How they could house several dollar coins. I try my hardest to look anywhere in the mirror other than myself when getting ready. I’m wearing very little and consider covering up before Mick shows up. I don’t see a point in wearing something just for it to end up draped over the rug later on so I try not to change until he comes and make use of my nakedness but crack and throw a brown shirt over my head once back in my room. I can feel his strong knock on the door and feel jittery. I feel so powerful as I kiss him hello and watch him hang his raincoat on the rack.

“Don’t mind that lay of clothes over there,” I call softly over to Mick who is next to a pile. “I was planning to do wash later.”

“I won’t,” he struts towards me and gets close enough for me to smell the last girl around his neck. His eyes lower to my bare legs then up to my eyes, still glazed over with tired. “I want to fuck you,” he tells me in a kind tone and snakes his hand around to hold me close. I come to him, knotting my arms around his neck and resting my head on his neck. He kisses me longingly. Mick’s hands are steadily sneaking under my shirt to the upper end past my shoulder blades where he massages and tells me it’s where he’d like to kiss the most. I let out an audible sigh as he brings me to the bed and I sit on the edge while he stays standing. He gives me the look he always does when he wants more but says nothing as I unbutton his trousers, never making eye contact until he lifts my chin and leans in for a tender kiss that lasts a while.

I stroke him through the fabric. He’s growing before me and I can’t help but feel the tingle in my private parts spread to my nipples. I want him to touch me but the kiss is too lavish for me to end this soon. I rub myself through my panties to intensify the sensation. I want my hand to be his, and they soon are after he breaks the kiss to have a look at me. I look into his warm eyes and grant him my smile. He smirks and rubs harder, going past the fabric of my underwear to the main source. My breathing quickens and cuts off unexpectantly at moments. I feel waves rocking me back and forth into his hands. A truly sexy feeling I’d like to have with me on lonely nights without Mick. I place a hand on his neck and let out a moan, asking for more. I draw him in for a hasty kiss. His tongue brushes over my teeth and tangles with my tongue. I taste cigarettes and strawberry candy. He takes his hand away from me to place in my mouth for me to taste myself. My womanhood goes crazy for him. I feel imaginary hands all over my body’s most sensitive area. Craving any sort of touch, I pinch my nipple as I taste myself on his fingers and he later does the same.

“You’re so darling,” I tell him.

“Turn over.”

I support myself on my elbows and arch my back until my backside is high in the air. I feel his hands peel back my panties and massage, slowly moving into my womanhood with his finger briefly before replacing with his tongue. I didn’t mean to gasp as I did, nor did I want to bury my head into my folded arms as he fucked me with his mouth but it sort of happened that way. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes and I cry out silently, pushing back against his lips asking for more. I rise for a moment to glace at him. I can’t for too long. I’m overcome with a feeling I can’t ignore and groan in agony. I feel accomplished to finally have him taking care of me. It’s all I ever wanted.

Suddenly he’s away from me but not too long. Only long enough to take off his clothes and plop them on the floor. He grabs my backside and begins positioning himself at my entrance. His breathing is heavy and I can hardly catch my own before he pushes into me. He gives me little time to catch myself before he fucks me at his own pace. His hands grab my waist and pull me onto his cock. I sob, letting him have his way with me. Sensation overwhelms me and I can feel already my climax peeking through each time he pounds into me. I tell him how close I am and he says nothing, only going faster in response, bringing me closer.

He asks me if I’m close. I’m only able to respond in orgasmic murmurs and spuddles. “Are you close, love?” he asks in a breathy cluster. I shake my head, hair flinging about, clinging to my back dampened with his sweat. He takes a fistful and tugs forcefully. His thrusts grow colder and needy. I can tell he’s as close as I am but I don’t want things to end so soon. Before I realize, I’m unraveling underneath him. He’s satisfied once I’ve cum on his cock, rocking about to milk the last moments of pleasure out of myself before he collapses over me. I feel myself filling with his love and I feel at ease. He’s then away from me, laying on a spot on the bed next to me. How I wish he’d stay.

I’m curling up into a ball when he prepares himself to go about his day. “Would you like a cigarette?” he asks, pulling up his trousers.

“I’ve got my own,” I say as I catch my breath. But he tosses me a stick anyway. and continues dressing.

Soon enough, he’s out the door and I’m left with the shadows of our collective orgasm. I touch myself, longing for him to come back to me. He doesn’t so I smoke my cigarette in the nude, watching coils escape my lips. I’ll only see him once more this week before he goes away to record a new album. If he calls afterward I’m lucky because he never does. I’m still allowed to wish for him while he’s gone.

80 notes · View notes

iamartemisday · 5 years

Text

Lokane Week- Convincer

“Sorry, pal, you just missed her.”

Darcy had her headphones on and her glasses off and her feet on the table. If she’d been napping before Loki came in, she hid it well. Her eyes weren’t even puffy.

Loki looked around the lab. Erik was nowhere to be seen, but neither was Jane. “I see… then she accompanied Dr. Selvig this morning?”

Darcy snorted. “He wishes. Nah, she went to go do some Secret Agent Man stuff over at the crash site. I don’t think she expects to get past the shady SHIELD dudes or whatever they’re called, but since they’ve been coming after her research, I think she just-”

Her words turned to white noise. Garbled nonsense in Loki’s ears, distracting him from the larger issue.

“Jane is infiltrating SHIELD,” he breathed, “and you didn’t think to stop her.”

“Stop Jane from waging a war in the name of science? Good joke, Luke. I needed a laugh today.”

Loki ran down the alley where no one would see him. Finding Jane’s location was easy, even in his panicked state. That he was panicking at all was a matter for another day. For now, he placed himself a quarter of a mile up the road from her truck. A black convertible spitting smoke would be prime bait for anyone, but it took standing in the middle of the road and waving his arms for Jane to connect his face with the man she’d spent weeks bouncing ideas off.

“What the hell are you doing?” She stuck her red face out the window. Lucky for her, it was a calm, sunny day with no wind.

“Can’t even be bothered to come out and help a weary traveler in need,” he quipped. It came harder than it should have. “Now I feel offended.”

She threw the passenger's side door open, grumbling to herself as Loki climb inside. His knees bumped the dashboard; his arms were stuck in an awkward position so he wouldn’t elbow her in the face. How she could function in a space so tiny, even with her far slighter frame, he couldn’t fathom.

“I can’t take you back into town right now,” she said, hitting the gas and continuing into the lion’s den. “Your car will just have to wait.”

“I’m sure it can manage.” The illusion had already faded into nothingness.

“What are you even doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same question. Is it not a lovely day for a drive?”

“Cut the crap. You know what I’m doing.” She stared straight ahead at the road. Had she wielded the power of Asgard, any obstacle in her way would have been reduced to cinders by her gaze alone. “Don’t try to talk me out of it either.”

Loki pursed his lips. “You know what a dangerous endeavor this will be.”

“Hey, they want me under their thumb anyway. This is just me getting in on my own terms.”

“And if you are caught?”

“That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

She kept her eyes on the road.

The radio was on low, a static-y song going in and out as the tires rolled down a bumpy road. Jane turned it to another station, then completely off. The engine groaned and ground with exertion. Had she ever pushed it so hard, he wondered.

“Nothing’s keeping me down except gravity,” she murmured.

“I don’t think this is quite what your father meant,” Loki remarked.

“He wasn’t the only one who taught me that.” She slowed enough not to hit any stray rocks and finally looked at him. “I’m not as crazy as you think.”

“I would never think that.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she said, her hands tightening on the wheel. “It’s always been like this for me, a struggle. It’s not even that I’m a woman surrounded by men. People have always look at me like a novelty. A joke. Not as someone they can take seriously. If it wasn’t for Erik, I don’t know where I’d be. Probably teaching Intro to Astrophysics at a community college somewhere.”

“There must have been others who believed in you,” Loki said.

Jane shook her head. “My mom tries, but she doesn’t really get it. My dad would’ve bought me a parachute and chartered a jet if he thought skydiving would make me happy. But you know, I’m starting to think it’s okay that I’m a joke. I know my theories are weird. I know what I’m proposing goes against conventional wisdom. My methods of experimentation go beyond unorthodox. If I were a different person watching myself, I’d think I was crazy, too. But you know what else I am, Luke?”

“What are you?” he asked. They were stopped at a fork in the road, though they both knew which way to go.

Jane threw back her head, as glorious as a battle-hardened warrior. “I’m right.”

They crossed the last few miles at a slower speed. Jane parked with the highest most point of the base just peeking into view. Loki walked ahead of her, a double twelve steps behind them at all times, just in case of a sneak attack. If one came, he’d have to defend her, or else go and leave her to fend for herself. The latter would be the wisest choice. Surely the worst SHIELD could do is take her into custody and charge her with breaking in.

He stood at her side as the looked down at the white tunnels and caged off epicenter housing Mjolnir. Whatever happened next, he would be right there. With her. Even if he didn’t know why, it was the truth.

Such a strange and unnaturally persuasive woman.

Her phone rang, shattering the moment. Jane had it out of her pocket in seconds and groaned at Darcy’s name on the call ID.

“I already told you, Darcy, you can’t talk me out of this.”

Loki focused on the speaker, hearing Darcy perfectly as she munched on potato chips and watched TV.

“You don’t have to yell at me. I know how to quit when I’m ahead.”

“That’s highly debatable.”

“Well, screw you, too. I just wanted to see if you’re okay. Believe it or not, I’m actually starting to care about you for more than just the credits.”

Jane sighed, putting a hand on her head. “Okay, thanks. I’m fine. I just got to the site and I’m looking for a way in.”

“You ever hear that old saying, ‘sometimes the way forward is the way back.’?”

“Darcy.”

“I’m just saying. Anyway, you’re not going to believe what’s on the news right now. Remember that guy we found during the storm? ‘Thor’ or whatever?”

Loki stepped closer.

“I think so,” Jane said, perfectly unaware of his change in demeanor. “What about him?”

“Just listen to this.”

She turned up the TV until Loki didn’t need magic to hear.

‘We’re now being told the John Doe escaped the facility sometime during the night between midnight and one o’clock. Security footage shows three to four unknown individuals entering the building and aiding in his escape. Witnesses on the scene describe them as dressed in period clothes and carrying medieval style weapons. While there have been no reported fatalities, several staff members were injured by the John Doe and his accomplices. Pictured next to me is the John Doe. Citizens are warned not to approach or attempt to apprehend the suspects as they are considered armed and extremely dangerous.’

#Lokane #Lokane Week #Lokane Week 19 #Jane Foster #Loki

16 notes · View notes

wordstrings · 5 years

Text

Of Maintenance Part 2: Physical Therapy

Written and submitted by @ask-flip-frost; a sequel to Of Maintenance. (Publisher’s notes can be found at the end of the work.) Words: 4,300

Things were changing. Whether they were more spooky or less spooky with the developing knowledge was difficult to say, though. Several everyday phenomena which Sam and Dean had taken to be the result of Castiel’s telekinetic abilities had been debunked as something far more simple. In the week since his medicinal bath, the grace-touch Cas had granted to the Winchester’s eyes had not faded out. His wings were still visible to them. As such, they began to notice all manner of peculiar things.

For starters, Castiel was not nearly as statuesque as they’d always perceived him to be. Even if the rest of his body seemed to be standing perfectly still, his wings gave away that he was, in fact, constantly fidgeting. Often it was only a gentle twitch or sway, but other times it would be the sort of swift flap one might see from a bird debating its position on a branch as the angel settled onto the living area’s couch. The first time that happened had scared the hell out of Dean and he’d fallen onto the floor with a loud curse. Out of courtesy, the brothers would give a wider berth now to accommodate the limbs, though the wings would always shift themselves to or fro as needed regardless as they always had ‘behind the scenes’.

“I am beginning to understand why Humans are uncomfortable with long stares.” Castiel commented as he picked a lore book from a high shelf in a pincer motion with the alula of either wing.

Dean started in place. He hadn’t realized that he’d been staring again. He grunted quietly and went back to fake-reading for a case. Well, ‘case’ in the sense that it wasn’t really their sort of thing, but they were bored out of their minds. Idle hands being tools of the devil, he could definitely understand how so many bad decisions came in moments where a person was left with nothing to drown out melancholy thoughts. Might as well research old serial killers and have debates on whether or not they were supernaturally inclined.

“I always thought you did that with your brain, I dunno. Some floaty angel shit.” Dean shrugged, dropping both the pretense and his book “Still getting used to it.”

“I use my brain to move my wings.” Castiel rolled his eyes, thumbing through his volume. “I could lift something by altering the molecular structure of the air around it, but it seems like wasted effort.”

With Cas’ attention divided by reading, the elder Winchester felt as if he could chance another appraising look at the wings. This time, he was moreso checking on their healing progress. Any time he’d gotten close enough to attempt to give them a once-over, they’d folded up protectively against the angel’s back. The skin certainly seemed healthier. Feathers were coming in nicely. A marked rise in Castiel’s mood might have been linked to their recovery.

“Dean.” Cas admonished.

“What?”

Cas turned to face him straight on, irritated as fully as a woman who didn’t want someone ogling her legs. He closed the distance and waited until Dean met his eyes. It took more than a few seconds.

“Alright, I get it, I get it. I wouldn’t have to be so damn sneaky about it if you’d let us actually check them. We said we wanted to help, and you promised you’d let us.” Dean fussed. “It’s been a week, and all you’re doing is just… misting them like house plants with that oil stuff. I wanted to make sure they’re getting better. Sue me.”

“…Oh,”

“Whaddaya mean oh?”

All this time, Castiel had felt that he was being viewed as somewhat of a side-show. The extra space given, the hidden peeks, and the badgering about keeping up on moisturizing the damaged skin had been giving him mixed signals on whether or not he was being treated as… well, he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t like it. He dropped his eyes, embarrassed.

“I misunderstood the reason for your leering.” Cas admitted quietly.

“Leering? Who’s leering?” Dean demanded, slapping the table to get full attention when Cas glanced away. “No, you look at me. If you think for a minute that we’re just gawking for the sake of seeing something weird, then you really need to get your head out of your ass, Cas. We stare because we care.”

That didn’t sound creepy. Ah, shit, he’d rhymed as well.

Castiel gave a begrudged nod. While he didn’t particularly care for being scolded like a child, he would be remiss to ignore the small flutter of importance that had bloomed in his chest from it. Something he’d perceived to be bordering on hateful was actually just the Winchesters’ way of looking after him without being obvious about it.

Feeling that his point had been made, Dean pushed up from the table and pointed an accusing finger as he backed out of the library.

“Alright. I’m going to pick Sammy up and grab some grub. When I get back, you’re getting a full check-up. No buts.”

If Castiel had been properly miffed, it would have been as easy as leaving before Dean returned to avoid further possibility of ridicule. But he stayed. Heaven help him, he stayed.

–

When the door to the bunker swung open by way of an aggressive hip, Castiel looked up briefly from his book and gave both Winchesters an expression of acknowledgement. Sam had been out all day, but where he had no idea. Both Sam and Dean had their arms full of takeout and grocery bags, though it seemed unlikely that the younger brother had been shopping for the last seven hours.

Behind Cas, there was some sort of structured movement going on. It reminded Sam of some upper body calisthenics demonstrated in a documentary about Victorian housewives he’d watched in college; the kind of exercise that only worked a set group of muscles, as was appropriate for ladies at the time. Not that he’d say that out loud. It looked a bit silly, though.

“The hell are you doing?” Dean asked bluntly.

“Stretching.” Cas didn’t look up a second time.

“Are you sore?” Sam prompted.

“No more than usual.” the angel replied with a sigh.

“How usual is usual?” Sam pressed on.

Castiel closed his book and deposited it on a table.

“Your legs are long.” Cas stated, waiting for Sam to agree to this observation before continuing. “If you are in a car for a long period of time, they become cramped, correct? Imagine if you were over one thousand feet tall, and compressed to a vessel that does not even clear six feet. Sometimes it helps to stretch, if only a little.”

It was easy to forget how big Castiel was supposed to be in a natural state when he was forever looking up at them. They understood how dangerous it would be for the angel to leave the vessel empty for any amount of time, so taking a break somewhere to fully unleash himself was unlikely to work out well.

“Okay, well-“ Sam yanked Dean’s shirt to prevent him waltzing away from putting groceries up. “We’ve been thinking about that a little, actually. Dean’s been calling physical therapy clinics in the area to get advice on what we can do to make things better for you.”

“Sneaking.” Dean interjected.

“-And I went to the vet clinic to volunteer with a bird rehabilitation group today. So I think we’ll have a better idea on how to handle helping you along.” Sam continued. “Got a few things we can try, but we’ll see how it goes and kind of play it by ear.”

At a loss for words, Castiel blinked and looked from one brother to the other. His don’t bother worrying about me, I am not worth it train of thought was solidly arguing with his I am deeply humbled and thankful to be cared about train of thought.

“The therapists all told us to check range of motion and try to balance resistance exercises and stretches with massages to release tension in the muscles.” Dean explained, slapping Cas on the shoulder. “Who’s a lucky duck?”

Cas pulled a grumpled expression as Dean turned back to stack cans of sloppy joe sauce in the cabinet.

“I am not a duck.” he huffed.

“Ya might as well be. That’s all Sammy’s been practicing on all day.” Dean laughed. “You’ll be the first on his client list not to peck at him. Or maybe you will, I dunno. You were pretty twitchy last time we had hands on you, so~”

Eyes to the ceiling, Castiel asked his Father for whatever strength he needed not to stuff Dean into a garbage can. He was thankful that the teasing was not further pursued while the remaining groceries were sorted. The time was spent going over what each brother had learned in their separate endeavors. He learned that Sam had been followed by an entire flock of some forty-odd ducks when it was time for him to leave, and that Dean had been given love letters by three old women and one old man after a day of working in senior physical therapy earlier in the week. As a point of pride, he’d kept all of them like trophies.

“Here, these are for you.” Sam tugged a pack of jersey knit pajama pants out of the last bag and passed them over to Cas. “So you don’t have to borrow any. Go ahead and change. There’s a shirt, too, but we need it off for now so we can see what we’re doing.”

Castiel ran his hand over the plastic with a quiet thank you. It crinkled softly in his fingers. Technically speaking, he didn’t own a single article of clothing besides what was already on his person. Any that he’d worn during his period as a human had been discarded as a means to bury the memory of his many struggles. Those clothes had all been second-hand anyway, though. These were new, expressly for him. A touching gesture to say the least.

This time, he didn’t feel nearly as self-conscious changing out of his normal attire. For a long moment, he fiddled with the drawstrings of his trousers to ensure that they were perfectly fit before tying a messy knot. Something which looked only sort of like a bow, but it was good enough. Learning to tie his shoes during his humanity stint had been quite a journey, but a small child who’d wandered off from her mother in the mall had been kind enough to show him as best she could manage. The things you needed to know as an ‘adult’ were hardly ever clear until you were in the moment, he’d come to find.

When Cas returned, he saw that a table in the library had been fixed up with lots of folded blankets to create a padded surface. Not strictly necessary, but it was nice to see all the same. A groaning sigh dramatic enough to rival a Kansas twister whooshed from his lungs in pure disapproval as Dean sauntered in wearing a lab coat, carrying a clip board.

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Too much?”

“YEAH.” came the unison reply.

“Fine. Buncha killjoys.” Dean muttered, shrugging out of the coat and tossing it in a rumpled pile on a chair. “Up on the table, big guy. Stretch out the wings as far as they’ll go side to side. Don’t let them droop if you can help it. We need to see if any of your muscles have atrophied.”

One foot pressed to a chair, Castiel pushed up on the table and settled into a comfortable sitting position, legs dangled somewhat stiffly over the side. A few small pops worked in the joints as he slowly reached his wings out in a wide t-shape. He wasn’t all together sure if that was a problem in the vessel’s shoulders or in his actual wings. Later he would run a checklist of all of the organic components which didn’t strictly belong to him. Well. They did now, he supposed.

“Try making circles, then go up and down.” Sam frowned at the noise, flipping through a little field guide he’d been given that day. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Cas shook his head, complying with the request easily. “It’s a relief. Everything has felt a little-“

“Flabby?” Dean supplied brightly. “Since you haven’t been able to go out for a sky spin in forever?”

If looks could kill.

“…tight. I have been exercising them, but the stiffness remains.” Cas grumbled. “My wing muscles are not flabby.”

“Touched a nerve on that one.” Dean huffed under his breath, eyebrows jumped up.

Quick to diffuse, Sam cleared his throat.

“You need recovery days to let muscles rest. Even if you’ve never needed them before, you’ve also never really been in a vessel for this long, right? Celestial energy verses physically shrunk down has got to have differences in how your wings react to things, especially after trauma. You said it feels cramped and tight, so let’s work from there. I’ll apply pressure. Try to keep from lowering your wings.” Sam advised, taking up a position behind the brooding angel.

Slowly he pushed down, little by little adding more force. The wings didn’t move an inch. They were warm and solid. A far cry less ashy-looking than the last time he’d touched them as well. Resistance didn’t seem to be a problem. There was no tremble of fatigue, but the muscles were heavily bunched.

“Not flabby.” Sam confirmed, noting with amusement how Cas’ feathers puffed a little in pride.

“See?” Cas sniffed in a superior tone.

“Got it.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“It was easy.” Cas added.

“I got it.” Dean repeated.

“Like they were baby hands.”

“Got it, Cas. Not flabby.”

Sam looked down at his giant paws and mouthed baby hands before reaching into a small box on the table. He began carefully laying out a collection of wires and pads. When he caught Castiel looking curiously over his shoulder, he held up the box to show a picture. The edges of the cardboard were slightly dog-eared from age, but the contents had been kept in pristine condition.

“TENS unit,” Sam explained. “I do long distance runs, and sometimes when my muscles get overworked, this helps kill off the pain and kind of forces them to relax after you use it. It stimulates your nerves with electricity pulses.”

When he was met with a wary expression, Sam rolled up his own sleeve and stuck two of the leads to his forearm. He fiddled with the settings and clicked the machine to life. Small twitches in his muscles were apparent.

“See? It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt. It’s weird, but DeanDeanDeanDON’T- AH!”

Unable to help himself, Dean plucked up the unit and cranked the dial WAY up, chuckling deeply as Sam’s arm convulsed into weird positons.

“This thing is WILD, Cas. We used to play a drinking game with these where you try to balance a ping pong ball on a spoon while it’s buzzing you, and if you dropped it, you had to take a shot.” Dean smirked, shutting the machine off, to Sam’s relief. “So just so you’re prepared, if it jerks you around a little, it’s fine. Doesn’t hurt, there are just places it isn’t safe to go, like around your heart. If Sammy can take it, you can take it. If it gets too sore, let us know and we’ll shut it down. Sound good?”

Cas nodded, actually a little relieved at the show of absurdity. It made him feel less like a specimen. There were no further protests as Sam began attaching leads to the meatiest sections of his wings and one on each shoulder blade at the joint. Anywhere where the knots were especially tight. The stickiness of the pads felt strange, but not particularly uncomfortable.

“You good?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” the angel replied, bracing his hands on the edge of the table.

“I figure we’ll let this run for a little while, then we’ll massage out the rest of those tense spots manually. You can go for a soak after. It’ll be a good day.” Dean promised.

“I’ll go get some of the leftover oil.” Sam offered. “Unless you already got some lotion or something for today?”

Dean thought to the small bottle of Jergens in his room… in a box… with his questionable reading material. The only lotion he owned.

“Nope,” the older Winchester lied.

“Right. Uh. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

The last thing Dean wanted was to endure something overly floral for this very manly process, so he turned to follow at his brother’s heels to micromanage the scent choices.

“Dean-“ Castiel interrupted his departure. “I’m sorry.”

“…For what?” Dean squinted.

“Earlier today. I thought… I thought you were being condescending. I’m sorry for being upset.”

Dean’s face went a little slack with guilt. Cas shouldn’t have to apologize for feeling upset. He spent so much of his time self-loathing already. All members of Team Free Will had a certain lack of communication skills when it came to sensitive topics, and Dean wasn’t exactly the most emotionally mature person when his pride was stinging.

“Yeah, well. Forget it, okay? I wasn’t exactly being up front about stuff.” Dean shrugged, looking for immediate escape from a dissection of character. “Be right back. Stay put.”

Now, the wisest course of action would have been for Castiel to wait patiently for the brothers to return, but frankly, he wanted to know what he was in for so that he would be able to adjust his reactions accordingly. If he could anticipate the jolts, then perhaps he could work against them to avoid looking quite as ridiculous as Sam had. Blue eyes kept sliding from the TENS unit to the door and back again. The oils were kept in the recovery room with all of the tubs, so he’d have at least two or three minutes to himself. Sam and Dean were strollers if there wasn’t a need for hurry. Ever so slowly, he reached out and closed a hand over the little machine.

–

“What’s wrong with lavender?” Sam groaned.

“It stinks, Sam. Use the sandalwood.”

“THAT stinks!”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

After much grumbling, they finally decided on eucalyptus, if only because Cas had mentioned that he’d liked the scent previously. This was about him after all. Before starting back to the library, they begrudgingly claimed a truce to avoid making the angel any more uncomfortable with sibling bickering. That was when both brothers were startled by flickering lights.

“Cas.” Dean stated, breaking into a run.

The door banged open.

Down on the floor, curled into a twitching ball against the table, was Castiel… doing something they’d only witnessed once before. The poor fellow was laughing, deep and rich and panicked. There was something else mixed with the sound; something almost musical and very, very strange. It made the humans go slightly cross-eyed for a second. They rubbed their faces hard to correct this. At least their ears weren’t screaming in pain.

“OFF!” Cas choked out.

Electricity was buzzing straight through his muscles down into his very grace. It wasn’t only that the unit gave off a tingling pulse over various sensitive points in his wings and shoulders. That would have been bad enough, especially the patches jolting into his wing pits. No, this was something altogether unbearable. Castiel hadn’t even been aware that his very essence of being was capable of falling subject to these sorts of sensations, but save him it tickled and tickled and tickled relentlessly. The entire world was blurred at the edges and all he knew was a crazed swirling of mirth and chaos exploding through his core. It was everywhere, inside and out.

“Hold on, hold on…” Dean tried, though it was doubtful that Cas could even hear him through the forced giggling and weird melodic notes.

Trying to get close enough to Castiel to snatch the machine up was like running a gauntlet. His wings were suffering from a combination of tickle shimmies and electric pulse muscle spasms. Any time Sam or Dean ducked in to make a grab, they were pummeled by a wall of feathers. Dean could taste blood after a clock to his nose, but adrenaline and amusement kept him from noticing more than a vague sting.

“Cas… Cas we can’t… you’ve gotta…” Dean weaved and batted.

“Work with us, Cas!” Sam grunted, hanging onto one wing for dear life as it thrashed him up and down as if he weighed nothing.

“T-t-t!!!” Cas tried to form words through his laughter, arms clutched tight around his middle.

Desperation incarnate, he reached out lightning quick with the miniscule amount of grace able to bend to his will and yanked the boys in close with it. This had the unfortunate side effect of spreading the sensation as the essence touched down on them, leaving both Winchesters doubled up in helpless wheezing cackles against their angelic friend. What the hell was this non-physical tickly feeling???

“CAS D-!!! CAN’T HE-HELP IF?!” Dean snorted.

They were screwed. Caught in the loop of laughter. What a way to go out.

Until…

It seemed that the reapers would not be coming for them on that particular day. Whether from divine intervention or dumb luck, the device shut off. A collective gasp for air sounded through the room.

“Shit… that tickled.” Dean heaved. “What happened?”

“It would seem that my grace is… vulnerable to electric stimulation.” Castiel rolled onto his back and put a hand over his face in a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

Nobody moved. There was a strange afterglow of sheer contentment from the shared-grace-giggling experience, though nobody was quick to admit how good they felt at the moment.

“Timer.” Sam stated finally. “I have a default timer of five minutes on it. That’s why it shut off.”

“Yeah, well, we’re gonna have to turn the settings WAY down on that thing because I don’t think I can handle that again right now if Wiggles over here gets grabby with his grace.” Dean rolled up into a sit and started aligning the intensity controls.

Cas made an instinctive reach for the device, which Dean deftly avoided.

“Not our fault you turned it on when it was set high. We’re still doing this, but we’re doing it right. Lower pulse ought to be fine. Back up on the table.”

Wide eyed and nervous, Castiel resumed his original position. He was still just a little too drunk on the endorphin spike to pull an annoyed expression, but still swiftly gripped a wrist on each brother.

“Don’t leave this time.” he insisted.

Sam and Dean shared a look, then jumped up to sit on either side of him. When he gave a small nod to signal his mental steel-up, the TENS unit once again buzzed to life, this time at a far more tolerable frequency. Only just, but tolerable all the same. His grace gave out pulsing shivers, almost as if nails were running over sensitized skin.

Hands balled in the padding blankets and legs lightly squirming for purchase over the side of the table, Castiel tried his best to bear through the time. He dug his chin down into his collar bone as breathy giggles clawed their way to the surface. Nope. A grown man-angel shouldn’t be allowed to be this adorable.

“This is supposed to be relaxing. Are you relaxed?” Dean grinned, giving a little poke to one of the wiggling wings.

“I AM NO-HOT!”

Sam held back a snort to avoid embarrassing the angel, but threw Dean a can you believe this expression when Cas tipped to his side and pressed muffled laughter into his jacket sleeve. Both brothers held a supportive hand to the angel’s back.

“Cas, we’d better not catch you alone like this again in your free time. If we need you for a case and you’re just holed up under the table having a tickle party for one-”

“Be quiet, De-hean!” Cas interrupted him with a giggly shove from the closest wing. “I’ll make you… I’ll make you feel…”

It was hardly an intimidating threat at the moment. The teasing verbal jabs seemed to up the intensity of whatever was happening with the celestial energy, and Castiel’s eyes were shining bright with tears by the time the machine beeped to signal the end of its cycle.

“Finished.” Sam announced in a sympathetic tone.

“Already?” Cas asked, wiping away the evidence of his mirth crying.

“Already?” Dean repeated, amused.

“It seemed to go by much faster. Perhaps, time being relative and also being that the potency of the treatment was at a marked decrease, my tolerance was raised for the challenge. It was pleasant. The effect on my grace was thoroughly enjoyable.” Castiel acknowledged, squinting at the Winchesters’ surprised expressions. “Did I not elucidate this well enough?”

Carefully, he stretched out his wings, noting with satisfaction that they felt remarkably limber as compared to the prickly tightness from the beginning of the day. He gave a soft yelp when fingers began picking at the TENS pads to unstick them from his skin. A bit over-sensitive from prolonged tingles, it was a struggle to wrench his wings up to allow the leads to be peeled away from the joints at his shoulder blades. They snapped down repeatedly and he shook his head with a scrunched nose of valiant failed effort. It wasn’t until Dean reached out a tickly grab to Cas’ knee to redirect sensation that he buckled in and became uncoordinated enough for Sam to strip everything free.

When everything had been boxed back up, it was difficult to ignore that Castiel’s expression remained bright and pleased. He looked happy. With any luck, maybe in the future that would not feel like such a foreign thing to see.

———

Publisher’s Notes: I absolutely LOVED getting to toss around ideas with you, some of which ended up straight here! This is so precious, and the line “...if Wiggles over here gets grabby with his grace” is a particular treasure. Thank you so much for blessing us with this continuation! <3

#wingfic #submission #author ask.flip.frost #ticklish!Cas #Team Free Will #Supernatural #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #angel mojo #tickling #written for me!#Of Maintenance #Of Maintenance: Physical Therapy #series: Of Maintenance #tickle fic

59 notes · View notes

guylty · 5 years

Text

It’s been so bloody long, I really need to put this baby to bed. The last few things that need to be said about Red Dragon Con 5 – and I’ll make it relatively short because, yes, I am already bored with myself, too. [Added pre-publication but after finishing the post: Yeah, right, “short”… ] Sorry sorry sorry.

The brutalist charm of an airport hotel. The RDC venue, the Renaissance Hotel. Lovely.

When I rocked up in the venue at about 10.30am on Sunday morning, my first order of business was – queuing. You might remember that I had been blinded by the gorgeousness blinked in my precious photo with Richard, so I had to come in early for a re-shoot while Kate had a little more time to make her way to the hotel. I joined my queue… As I was finally getting into the room where the photo sessions were being held, observing Richard and his various co-sitters in the set-up, something amazing immediately occurred to me: Richard was putting his arm around everybody!!!! *gasp* Apparently someone had had a change of heart over night. Or someone else had taken him aside and given him a few pointers. Or maybe he just sneaked a peek at Twitter and saw that there had been some complaining. In any case, Richard seemed quite different on Sunday morning – and his new willingness to appear a little less reserved had a massive influence on his fans: The buzz in the room was undeniable; people literally appeared to be happier, more relaxed, very much in love even. Despite the human rights violation of a pair of loosely cut trousers, flapping from the supposedly delectable derriere of the OOA.

So once again the conveyor belt pushed me inevitably closer and closer to the epi centre: Leave your bag on the table. Show your photo badge to the helper. Five steps. Get the same warning as the day before. “No touching, no flower crowns.” Four steps. The flashes are really bright. Three steps. I must remember to really keep my eyes open. Two steps. Shit, I forgot Pop!Thorin. One step. I am next. Lift-off: I move into the frame. I say a polite hello to some tall bloke in a dark leather jacket. I look at the camera. Last second I decide to make the picture silly by pointing at that bloke. I feel a hand and an arm ghost across my back. I plaster a stupid grin on my face. As the flash goes off, I blink. I hurry out of the frame as quickly. What a horror show!

It remains a mystery to me how something as pedestrian as queueing and getting your photo taken, is so immensely draining on body and soul. When I came out of that session, I was basically ready for a lie-down. And it wasn’t even as if there had been any exciting exchange between me and Mr A. Quite the opposite, actually. We both very much kept to ‘our side of the bed’, so to speak. Luckily the next event was the 1pm Q&A with Richard. I readjusted my flower crown and went to look for Kate and Armidreamer.

Not *my* long face, but Claus with C – the rocking horse – modelling the exclusive Red Dragon FC, made by a sub division of RAPS Inc.

After another heart-breakingly good Q&A session with interview pro Richard Armitage, it was time for another stewarding stint again. And now the story got really interesting.

American Gothic all the way

Like the previous day, I had been put on photo collection duty for my volunteering on Sunday. When I got to the collection room, most pictures from the morning’s photo sessions had already been picked up and not much work was left to do. I spent a little while counting the photo “badges” (little receipts that had been used to make sure only paying con attendants got into the photo studio). It occurred to me to look for my own photo from the re-shoot. When I picked it up, I could not help but snort loudly. Once again I had closed my eyes when the flash went off – another photo op ruined. You really had to laugh. I was kind of muttering more to myself than anyone else “Ah no, I blinked again, my eyes are closed in my photo… too bad.” But a couple of women who actually worked properly for Starfury, apparently heard my mumbling, and I explained to them that I had ruined even the *second* of my photo ops. Ah well, no need to be sad. I had never really wanted to have a photo anyway. So I just accepted the fact that I am oversensitive to photographic flashes, and that was it.

And then, after a minute, the woman in charge of photo collection dropped a bombshell. “Do you want a re-shoot?” I could hardly understand what I was hearing. “Eh, yes…” I stammered, a thousand question marks in my tone. “Then you need to go now with this girl here. It’s the last picture of the day. Go go go.” Before I had time to understand what was happening, one of the Starfury assistants from the photo room was already looking for me in the photo collection room, and next thing I was already running with the girl through the hotel lobby to the backrooms where the photo sessions were held. The photo sessions were officially over, so the photo equipment was being packed up, the room rearranged. Instead of con attendants, the room was filled with volunteers and Starfury staff who were tidying up. The girl took me to the photographer, explaining that I was the last person that day to have a quick re-shoot. I apologised profusely for prolonging the photographer’s work, but he was calm and nice. He just told me to position myself in front of the backdrop, ready to have the picture taken as quickly as possible. Richard, I noticed, together with Mads Mikkelsen was still in the middle of signing one of the big banners that were going to be raffled off to the con attendants. Having to wait while standing under the bright illumination of the photo lights, is pure torture for someone who doesn’t like to be photographed in the first place. And I didn’t even have a prop with me to hide behind. Instead the thoughts were reeling in my head, telling myself I would have to concentrate on keeping my eyes open. And how the hell was I supposed to smile when I was actually struggling to keep myself from blushing with embarrassment?

And then things happen very quickly: At last, while I am still apologising/chatting with the photographer, Mads and Richard suddenly step into the photo area . I vaguely hear somebody explaining to them that there is to be one last re-shoot. I don’t know where to look, I am mortified, babbling apologies. Mads turns up on my left, and I sense Richard passing behind my back. It is actually Mads who addresses me with a grin and a chuckle: “Are you the blinker?” I have to laugh. “Yes. I am.” And I feel really bad when I actually turn him down – “but not with you but with Richard.” Mortally wounded (haha, or rather: not) Mads leaves the scene while somehow RA cops on that he is the one I want the picture with. I kind of sense that there is no point in saying much to RA – he is possibly less than impressed to have been roped in for a re-shoot and just wants this to be over. And so do I. I stand awkwardly beside him while trying to appear nonchalant, last-minute repeating my fun little finger-pointing gesture from the morning. *flash* I can feel I had my eyes closed. And the photographer says “hold on, let’s take another” while I feel my facial muscles spasm from the awkward artificial smiling. Yeah, American Gothic all the way now.

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Alright, alright. Richard isn’t American Gothic, only I am. He smiled and his eyes sparkle. So there:

But boy, was that a struggle! I think the picture shows the strain, and so my advice to anyone similarly suffering from acute embarrassment in face of the OOA is to actually bring some kind of prop to the photo op. I definitely felt much less exposed when I had Pop!Thorin with me the day before. In the unlikely event of having to talk to Richard, Pop!Thorin at least would have provided a topic. Moreover, Pop!Thorin gave my hands an occupation, therefore avoiding both mirroring RA with hands in pockets, or looking like a family photo from a small town photo studio ca. 1984. Believe me, I know what I am talking about. I have been there. Both in 1984 and 35 years later. – I ran back to my stewarding job to finish my shift. And to thank the photo ladies for giving me the opportunity to re-shoot that picture. I knew that they had made an exception for me – it’s usually not possible to re-shoot photos (as is actually explained when you buy a token for the photo sessions). I, however, was lucky because I was volunteering with the right people. They simply were nice women. Which they not only proved with the whole re-shoot thing but something else.

The Heart in the Right Place

I always like to leave the best for last, and the following last incident from Sunday at RDC5 definitely ranks high among the many memories. The photo collection was pretty quiet by the time I came back from the photo re-shoot, and the ladies told me that there was no need for me to continue waiting there; they would look after the photo collections themselves. I packed up my stuff and was about to leave when I remembered one thing. Even though Hariclea couldn’t attend the con because of her mother’s death, she had obviously paid for her ticket. And while her included autograph allocation basically expired, the guys at the registration had promised me I could pick up Hariclea’s badge at the end of the con. After all there was a picture of Dolarhyde on the badge! The registration guy was sitting in the same room as the photo people, so I popped over to his desk and retrieved that badge. And by way of conversation I mentioned to the lovely photo ladies, that “my friend could not attend the con because her mother died the day before the con, and I am at least bringing this back for her as a souvenir”. The two of them looked at each other. Then one of them said: “Who’s her favourite star?” I said, “Richard.” She reached out her hand and said, “Just give me that for a moment.” I handed over the badge and she vanished with it. After 5 minutes she was back.

Just to spell it out: Without any prompting or suggesting from me, she had run over to the backrooms where Richard and Mads were still doing their autograph duties, and had obtained a signature from Richard on the ticket. I don’t know what she told him and how she did it, but she got the ticket signed by the man who Hariclea would’ve wanted to see. And for free. I was gobsmacked. And I don’t think there are words enough to say thank you to the photo ladies at Starfury’s Red Dragon Con 5. This was simply two decent people being touched by the kind of sad story that life writes – and reacting in a generous, kind and thoughtful way. And that counts for so much more than any kind of petty criticism for commercialised fandom events. I am annoyed with myself that I never asked for the two kind photo ladies’ names. But even without naming them, I am sure that the universe will reward them for their kindness. They so deserve it!

(Second but) Last Words

Right, I actually wanted to wrap up the whole con thing in this post, but again, I have been too elaborate. Apologies. I could leave it at this but that would be a bit unfair. I do want to give their dues to the other people whose appearances at the con I enjoyed. And I also want to say a last word about the fannibals and the various encounters I had. I promise, just one more post.

But to tie this one up, here’s a last reflection on the whole photo malarkey. I realise I am a lucky fan. I got my photograph with my favourite actor, and I was really lucky in that I came away with a version in which I *don’t* have my eyes closed. No complaints there. If there’s anything to complain about, it is me. The fangirl mind overanalyses all the time. Too busy are we, constantly monitoring what we say, what we think, and how we feel, in face of the OOA. Sometimes, I feel, that actually overshadows our enjoyment of the moment. That’s certainly what happened to me. There I was, standing beside this bloke whose talent and skills as a performer I so admire. It’s not every day that happens. And regardless of the vibes of reluctance and/or shyness that he was exuding all weekend, I *should have* loved every second I could stand beside the guy. I loved photographing him at the panels, I certainly loved listening to him speak, and if I had been a little less dim I would have loved the one-to-one moment at the signing, too. But the photo sessions? Boy, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough! This is just me and does not apply to everyone, but here is what I felt: The fact that I had two re-shoots kind of intensified or exacerbated the whole scenario for me. A rather luxurious complaint, I know. Taking three separate efforts to get a photo with my favourite star, I felt so embarrassed and awkward, put on the spot and as if my cover had been blown. No, I don’t believe that RA recognised me – I doubt he knows who I am. There is no reason why he should know me – I am one of thousands of people who turn up at events, waving a book or a programme at him, asking him to sign. Most of the time I hide behind my camera, anyway. But as much as I appreciated the exceptional circumstance that allowed me to have my picture taken (and *again*), for me it was definitely also a situation way beyond my comfort zone.

Even though the commercial aspect of the photo sessions legitimises our desire to be close (in proximity) to our favourite actor, there is one thing that money can’t buy: genuine interest. And that is what makes these photo ops and selfies by the stage door so difficult for me: I am there because I *want to* be there. I am genuinely interested in my favourite actor, and it is a pleasure for me to have the opportunity to see him live. But that is a pleasure that is not reciprocated. I understand that it can’t be, of course. There is only *one* of him – and *thousands* of fans. It is impossible for every fan encounter to be as meaningful to him as it is to the individual fan. But it is precisely this imbalance that I dislike. And I’d rather admire from afar and without acknowledgment, than from close up and only with polite tolerance. It also has got something to do with how *I* see myself, I guess. And while I know my shortcomings very well, I do believe that there is more to me than the fact that I like Richard Armitage. I don’t like to be defined predominantly by my status as a fan – especially by the guy who I am a fan of. Is that a contradiction or a logical conclusion?

I really don’t know. But I know one thing – with all my niggling about imbalance of interest: He was very fair about not singling anyone out – although he certainly had a bit of a Dibley revival weekend. But RA is not to blame for my difficulties with RL interactions. My overriding impression after observing those photo sessions and seeing Richard at the autograph signing, was one of gratefulness. I don’t know how he manages to so but he made every attempt at giving every fan their own special moment. Whether it is chatting with those Kiwi girls about NZ, expressing his admiration for Flat Richie’s international itinerary to armidreamer, laughing with Kate about Jill’s Gymkhana, or playing ‘Spot the Location’ with my photos, RA did try to be personable. You just have to be cool enough to take it. Which I am not.

High Emotions – Sunday at #RDC5 [part 9] It's been so bloody long, I really need to put this baby to bed. The last few things that need to be said about Red Dragon Con 5 - and I'll make it…

#Francis Dolarhyde #rdc5 #Red Dragon #Richard Armitage

9 notes · View notes

sehunpeachy · 7 years

Text

not interested (m)

⇒pairing: hoseok x reader

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

⇒length: 20k

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

Your eyes flick up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t know what to say.

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

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

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

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

“You always flirt with your assistant coaches?”

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

You roll your eyes.

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

“Y/N.”

“Coach Y/N.”

You chuckle. “And your name?”

“Kim Seokjin, but Jin for you.”

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

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

“Hey, Y/N.”

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

“When do swimming practices start?” Yeri asks.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

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

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

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

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

“Did you take it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Kim Seokjin?”

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

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

“Sucks at flirting.”

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

“What does that even mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There you are!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You purse your lips, deciding not to say anything.

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

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

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

Then he smirks. Ugh.

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

“Hey,” he slurs. “Jungkook.”

You purse your lips again. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hoseok isn’t here,” Jimin says.

“Snitch,” Jungkook whispers under his breath.

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

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

“Coach—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, sure.”

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

“Yeah,” you nod.

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

“Woo,” Jungkook claps, “go Hoseok.”

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

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

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

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

You cock an eyebrow. “No thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn your head to him as he pulls up next to you, chuckling nervously. “Yeah.”

Fuck. You were so tired.

You were fully aware you weren’t the one doing laps in the pool at five o’clock in the morning, but the experience was a little mentally exhausting on you. Or rather, Hoseok was a little mentally exhausting.

You had been sure beforehand that you would know how to handle boys like that; scoff, make a retort, do anything but give them the kind of attention they seek out in girls. But that Hoseok guy—he didn’t do even anything to provoke that from you. He just kinda…stared, and that had been enough to intimidate you.

The lecture hall was slowly piling up with more people spilling from the entrance. You took a short nap right before your 11 am classes began, but it wasn’t enough to wipe off the sleepiness off your face.

Among the crowd entering the room, your eyes suddenly catch Jimin’s face.

Ah, so this was the class you had with him.

If you were honest, you wouldn’t have paid Jimin that much attention if he hadn’t been on the team. He was cute, just like the rest of them, but you didn’t find yourself caring too much about cute boys most of the time.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he looks up, erupting into a smile. He jogs up the stairs, sliding down your aisle until he was sat right next to you.

“Miss Y/N,” he greets, placing his head down onto the desk and looking up at you. “I knew I saw you around campus somewhere.”

He scrunches his face, and you concrete that being cute was his ‘thing’. You break the eye contact with him to catch two girls watching the both of you with intent eyes, discreetly pointing towards your direction.

“Hey Jiminie!” One of them musters up the courage to say, waving frantically. Jimin shuts his eyes, taking a deep sigh before lifting up his head and giving her a toothy grin. She squirms in response, scurrying away from his stare with excited squealing.

“You ever get tired of that?” You ask him, judging by his look of exasperation.

“All the time,” he says, sighing as he turns back to you. You notice he’s acting less like a character now, resting his cheek on his hand. “You know, nobody else from the team takes this class, so I’m glad you’re in here with me. I can finally have a seatmate.” A pause. “I guess assistant coach counts as part of the team.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You only sit with the other swimmers?”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah. It’s a conduct of loyalty.”

The swim team stays within the swim team.

“You could make other friends, you know?” You say, flipping your textbook open as the last few people pour in.

Jimin laughs, like it’s a stupid comment. “Why would I? The best people I know are in one club.”

You scrunch your nose. “I’m not sure if that’s cute or just unhealthy.”

“You think I’m cute?” He raises both his eyebrows, leaning in closer.

You retract. “I’m not interested.”

“Neither am I,” he says, going back to his own space. “I just like flirting. Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“I’ve noticed,” you reply, lowering your volume as the professor comes in. “Your whole team seems to do it too.”

“Don’t take it personally,” he whispers. “You’re a nice looking girl, Y/N.”

You narrow your gaze on him, the edge of your mouth turning up at an angle. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jimin chuckles. A pause. “Don’t take Hoseok personally either.”

You turn your head towards him at the mention.

“He takes swimming a little too seriously. Really, he’s a lot of fun when he’s not in the pool and being a goody-two-shoes. It takes new people a while to learn that.”

You don’t say anything for a while. “He kinda saved my ass today.”

“Yeah,” Jimin rubs the back of his neck, “sorry about that. I’m a real slacker sometimes. It rubs off on the rest of them.” He stares down at the desk.

You can’t help but smile. “Doing 5 am laps three times a week doesn’t sound like a slacker to me,” you say and Jimin looks up. “Just please, don’t let me lose this job.”

Jimin nods before turning to the front of the lecture.

You liked this kid.

You met Yeri on the second day of university, which in retrospective, was pretty worrying considering she was your dorm roommate. You spent the first night at university alone in your room, greeted with rapid knocks on your door at morning come.

The first time you saw Yeri, she was still in last night’s party clothes, her makeup and hair looked like they were dragged through hell, and she was hungover. Even so, she managed a somewhat proper hello before throwing up into your desk trash can.

As you enter the room, she sits up, throwing her phone to the side. “So?”

Your eyes dart around the room.

“How was your first coaching session?”

“Oh,” you say. Right. She had been blowing up your phone since 9 am but you never had the time to reply. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” She intensively watches you place your backpack down by your table and take a seat on your bed. “Be more specific, come on.”

“Well,” you start, “I didn’t really do much, so it was pretty boring. I just told the team what strokes they had to do that day. And when they finished their laps, I would tell them the next stroke.”

“Seriously Y/N.” You laugh. “How were the boys?”

“Well, which one do you want me to start with?”

Her eyes light up. “That Kim Seokjin of yours.”

“Please.” You laugh. “He’s hardly mine. It seemed as if he talked about me to his team members before the lesson,” Yeri leans in closer. “I think he called me a bitch.” Her face falls. “I did kinda reject his attempt at flirting last time.”

“Is he into you?”

You scoff. “I doubt it. He probably wants me to go easy on his number of laps.”

“What about,” she taps her chin, “Kim Taehyung?”

“He seems okay,” you pout, scouting your memory for flashes of him. “Kind of a trouble maker with Jimin.”

“Ugh!” Yeri falls back onto the bed dramatically. You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Park Jimin, isn’t he the cutest?”

“He’s sweet,” you say and you instantly regret it when Yeri snaps her head at you. “Not what I meant,” you narrow her eyes at her. “Jungkook was by far the worst. I bet he would flirt with a lamp post if he had the chance,” you continue, lying on your back.

“I gotta agree with you on that one,” she says and you raise your eyebrows. “Still cute though.”

“God, I’m so tired,” you say, rubbing a hand over your forehead. You lean over your bed to grab your laptop from your bag. The blue screen greets you mockingly, reminding you of the paper you were supposed to start yesterday. “I have so much work and I haven’t even picked a topic for—”

“What about Jung Hoseok?” Yeri interreupts, her eyes perked up.

“Oh,” your voice falls. “Right.”

A long pause.

“What’s wrong?” She intrudes. “You interested in him?”

“No,” You object, lowering your laptop screen. “He’s just—I don’t know. He was different.”

“Oh?” Yeri smirks. “The good different?”

“The weird different,” you say. “I made a joke, and he was just kinda giving me —a death stare. Okay, not a death stare, but he didn’t really seem to like it.”

She rolls over so she’s on her stomach, rhythmically tapping her feet against the wall behind her. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” you trail off. “But he was the only person to listen to me when the swimming coach had left for a while. If it weren’t for him, I would have probably lost the job on my first day.”

“Inter-esting,” she says, drumming her fingers on her jaw. “I don’t know much about him, but I do know he’s really serious about the sport. Maybe that’s why you started off a bad note.”

You purse your lips, turning back to your screen. “Maybe.”

“Hey, Taehyung! No splashing!”

By your fourth or fifth lesson, Jungkook was still flirting with you, but it had become a little more endearing each time he did so, like a little brother’s friend who wanted to try a hand at seducing older girls.

“Coach Y/N!” He shouts from his position in the water, shielding himself from Taehyung’s continuous splashes of water despite you telling him to stop a few seconds ago. “When will I get to see you in a swimsuit?”

“Hopefully never,” you say as you smile, raising an eyebrow. He laughs before turning back to Taehyung and skimming the surface of the water to deliver a powerful and precise splash to his face.

Taehyung remains a troublemaker, but now targeting some of the trouble towards you, like splashing water at your shoes and trying to pull you into the pool if you got too close.

You still like teasing Seokjin, but not so upright like you had done your first lesson. He dropped trying to get on your good side when he saw you wouldn’t give him less laps for his behavior, opting to tease you back instead.

And just like Jimin promised, he always followed your orders so you could keep the job, even going as far as keeping the other boys on track for you. Everybody but Hoseok.

Hoseok was always on task anyways, following instruction no matter who was giving it, you or Coach. When he was out of the pool, he seemed like a regular college boy, laughing with his friends and discussing plans for the weekend. But once he was in, he tuned everybody out, like a robot, solely focused on getting in his meters for the day. Frankly, you’ve never meet anybody so serious about swimming practices in all your years.

“Alright,” Coach says after a while. “Out.”

The team simultaneously pull themselves up and out of the pool. You allow the time to stretch your body. The job was boring but easy, and you seemed to be getting more and more used to waking up this early. Not to mention, you were actually making friends with people you’d otherwise never want to talk to.

“Before you go,” Coach says, stopping everybody from going into the changing rooms, “I have some news.”

“News?” Jimin chirps, smiling wide and bouncing a little. “Good news?”

“You decide,” he answers and Jimin frowns. “Mr. Wu, or you might know him better as the basketball coach, had gotten a serious flu this past month, so I’ve been invited to go to the basketball nations in his place.”

“You don’t know anything about basketball though, Coach,” Taehyung says, leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Don’t disrespect your elders like that,” Seokjin scolds. You hold back a laugh.

A pause. “Anyways,” Coach continues, “I’ll be gone for a week. But don’t start crying yet. I have a perfectly good and groomed assistant coach to take over my role.”

Everybody’s eyes fall on you.

“She’s been over our practice routine about a hundred times now, haven’t you?” The Coach looks at you and you realise it’s not a rhetorical question.

“Sure,” you say, not knowing how to respond. You don’t mean for it to be funny but Jungkook breaks out into little giggles.

You turn to him smiling, but you’re stopped when you meet Hoseok’s hard gaze instead. Again.

“I mean,” you say, taking your eyes off of him, “I know what to do. Don’t worry, Coach.” You feel Hoseok’s eyes leave your figure at your words and your body relaxes.

“Right,” Coach says a little hesitantly, noticing your tone change. “Okay, go get changed. Nice work, everybody.”

You watch as the boys begin to leave the vicinity of the pool, going back to their resumed conversations. Hoseok lingers and you notice, so you turn away to face the pool and pretend to fix something on your shirt.

“Hey, Coach?” You hear him say. “Will the pool still be open every day?”

Your eyes focus on a ripple in the gradually calming ways, intently listening his words.

“Not sure. Probably, but you better ask Y/N to check in at the sports department.”

You freeze, deciding it would be weird not to tune into the conversation now. Hoseok’s scrutinizing gaze falls on you again and you tense up.

“You said probably, right?” Hoseok asks again and the pit of your stomach clenches.

“Probably,” Coach repeats. “Don’t see a reason they would close while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” Hoseok says, turning his heel away and back into the changing rooms. “Thanks Coach. Have a safe trip.”

Ouch. Does he really not like you this much?

You ignore it, fiddling with the gym door keys in your left pocket.

“You heard me, right Y/N?” Coach asks and you look up in surprise. “Can you check in and let him know, just in case?”

“Uh,” you scramble for a response, “yeah! Of course.”

Coach nods once. “Hoseok’s pretty dedicated, you probably could already tell that.” You don’t say anything. “He likes swimming early in the morning even when we don’t have practice, but only because I vouched for those free periods to the sports director.”

You nod.

“He might seem a little distant to you,” he continues, “but he’s got a heart of gold. And lots of determination. Don’t let him lose those extra swimming practices.”

“Got it,” you say.

If you had to be honest, you wanted Hoseok to like you. You don’t know why, since you’ve never so actively cared about what some boy thought of you, but you were sure it was because you were a little scared of him. It was hard not to be, with his dark eyes and furrowed eyebrows and cold stares.

One thing you knew for sure, losing those swimming periods on your part would definitely not help the situation.

Another text message goes off.

yeri: ‘Y/N~~~~~~~’

you: ‘Yeri, I’ll be 5 minutes’

yeri: ‘we’re about to order without u though’

you: ‘It’s fine just get me what you’re getting.’

yeri: ‘hurry~~ it’s not as fun without u’

you: ‘Yeri’

yeri: ‘:(‘

you: ‘5 minutes’

You place your phone back into your pocket, ignoring the next buzz that comes in. You told Yeri the night before you wanted to clear out a chore before you join her and her friends for a lunch, and she didn’t take the news too kindly.

The sports department was considerably far away from the actual sport areas. It was in the main building, which was most likely pretty empty during lunch hours, opting the job to be quick and easy.

You swing the door open to the main building but Hoseok stands in the doorway, reaching out for the door handle just as you had moved it.

“Oh, god,” you say, placing a hand over your chest. “You scared me—”

“Sorry,” he interrupts, pushing past you. You watch him as he begins to make his way to the cafeteria, and suddenly something clicks into place.

“Wait!” You shout, striding towards him and stopping hesitantly a few feet away when he turns around. “Uh, what were you doing?”

He squints his eyes in confusion, looking much less intimidating and more lost than anything. “Huh?”

“Were you at the sports department just now?” You rephrase.

“Does it matter?” Hoseok asks.

“Well, yes,” you say, chewing on your lip in slow frustration, “I was just about to go in there and check those free periods—”

“I’m flattered, but I could do it myself.” Hoseok crooks an eyebrow. “In fact, I already did.”

You narrow your eyes. You had been looking at this guy wrong this whole time. He wasn’t scary, or intimidating. He was fucking annoying.

“Listen,” you grit your teeth, stopping him in his tracks as he begins walking away again. “I’m really not sure what I did to you, but I’m trying to fix it right now and you’re not helping.”

He frowns, contemplating over your words. “I’m really not understanding. Fix what?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaim, “you tell me!”

Hoseok frowns. “Women are so confusing.”

You’re breathless, holding vicious words hostage on your tongue. “Just—tell me why you hate me so much. Then we can move on.”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you.” He pauses. “You’re just not very—serious about anything.”

Your face twists. “Serious? How am I not serious? I’m trying my best—”

“Okay, listen,” he stops you. “I’m sorry if you feel that way, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. Sorry.”

Never before has anybody stolen the breath out of your lungs so abruptly. You can’t help but gape your mouth like a fish out of water. Your eyes are fixated on his face, which begins to grow awkward as silent seconds tick by.

“…What?” You hiss.

His face softens. “Sorry, I’m not interested in—”

“What makes you think I’m interested in you?” You burst.

He’s taken aback, and it shows in his expression. But just as soon as it comes, it leaves, replaced with a slight furrow in his eyebrows. “That’s not a very mature way to deal with rejection—”

“Rejection?” You throw your hands up, aghast at how delusional one person can be. “I don’t want to date you!”

“Well, you’re in luck then, right?” He says with feigned innocence.

“You—”

Before you can finish your sentence, your phone starts ringing. The air becomes tense, filled with your ringtone instead of words. Hoseok stares at you, then your pocket, then back to you.

“You should answer your phone,” he says, practically rooting his feet into the ground with the way he stands so still.

Your mouth gapes open, reaching for your phone with caution, watching him vigorously.

“…Yes?” You ask as you answer the call, never leaving his gaze.

“Y/N, you done yet?” Yeri’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Yeah,” you say, frowning at Hoseok and hardening your words. “I’m done. Be there in a few.” He continues standing there, staring right back, his face unmoving.

“Okay, hurry up so we can start eat—”

You hang up before she could finish her sentence. “I need to go.”

“Be my guest,” he replies with a smirk.

“I will.” You push past him, making your way as far away as possible from him.

Pft. Interested in him? Had you ever shown any signs you were interested? None at all. God, he was so delusional. So self-absorbed. So far up his own ass.

It’s hard to think about anything else as you bite into your cheese sandwich, the conversation on the table drifting in and out of your consciousness. Not only did he waste your time, but he ruined your lunch too.

Jimin slides in the seat next to you, right before the lecture. “You okay?”

You turn in surprise. “Yeah, why?”

“Hoseok said you were upset yesterday.”

The grip around your pen hardens. “Did he? What else did he say?”

Jimin’s round eyes widen. “He wouldn’t say anything else. Well, besides not to get on your bad side, because it’s not a ‘pretty side’ to be on.”

You take a deep breath. “This guy—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts as the lecture begins. “I told you not to take him seriously. Whatever he did, it’s probably not personal.”

The two of you grow silent.

“I’ll tell you what he did,” you whisper. “He turned me down, as if I was in love with him, or something.”

Jimin looks at you through half lidded eyes. “I’m sorry. That must suck—”

“I’m not in love with him!” You hiss. “Does everybody think that?”

Jimin pauses. “You do treat him differently.”

“That doesn’t mean—” You stop yourself. There wasn’t any point trying to convince anybody of something that was so blatant to you. “Never mind.”

“Whatever is going on,” Jimin begins to say, “you should sort it out. Before Coach comes back from his trip. You really don’t want to get on his bad side. Trust me, I’ve been on that side far too many times for my preferences.”

You turn to him and smile timidly. “I’ll try.”

“So, newly improved and cuter Coach,” Jungkook starts, running his fingers through his wet hair, “what mission do you want us subordinates to complete on your first day as leader?”

“Ew,” Taehyung says, “keep your kinks to yourself.”

Seokjin makes a face. “Why do you have to make everything sexual?”

Your eyes scan over the awaiting faces, but you purposefully miss Hoseok’s. His head was resting against the pool edge, his swimming cap pulled over his head that he cocked to the side with faked interest. Without even looking, you can feel his eyes dig into you, as if trying to find a way to crawl under your skin.

“Laps,” you answer before the resounding groaning begins.

“Y/N,” Jimin thrashes his body around dramatically, “you’re so boring.”

“Can’t we play a game?” Taehyung chimes in. You pick up the whistle from around your neck and fiddle with it, a wordless response of a ‘no’.

“Four laps, back crawl,” you announce. “Ready?”

“Coach,” Hoseok interrupts and everybody’s head spins towards him, leaving their position to start swimming, “I have a question.”

You don’t say anything, feeling your head get light at the situation. Instead, you continue standing there, tucking your lower lip into your teeth and stomping your foot erratically.

The edges of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “Why back crawl first?”

“Because,” you say through the grit of your teeth, “I said so.”

“But the front crawl usually comes first,” he continues with amusement etched into his face. God, did you want to knock it out of him. “Front crawl, then back crawl.”

“Good point, Mr. Jung,” Taehyung joins in on the game, further fueling the pent up anger boiling in your insides. “It makes sense to start with front, and then back.”

“Can we just start swimming?” Jimin asks with exasperation, readying to push off the wall again. Taehyung follows, dropping the act almost immediately. But Hoseok goes on.

“You know, Coach,” he cheeses, “if you mess up the order of our laps, it could really mess with our routine, and then it’d be your fault if we lose at nationals—”

You blow the whistle, looking straight ahead at the end point of the pool rather at any of them. From your peripheral vision, you watch them scramble to kick off the wall, caught off guard and starting their laps off beat with the time you blew your whistle.

Then your eyes land on him. Stationary. Grinning.

You blow it again.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Hoseok says, holding his arms out across the pool edge as if to beckon you closer to him. You stand guard.

Another blow. The other boys pause their back crawl to observe the situation.

“Back crawl,” you grit, building up your voice to sound louder than usual.

“I’ll only start my lap if you come closer.” His finger crooks towards you, smiling.

Keep calm, keep calm. Don’t do anything irrational.

You wistfully close your eyes for a second, breathing in a deep sigh before making your way closer towards him, stopping a few feet away.

“Oh come on,” Hoseok says and you feel your fists clench. “That’s not close enough.”

“I’m not playing this game,” you mutter. “If you don’t want to swim, don’t.”

“That’s no fun!” He exclaims. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

You bite your lip, locking in all the cruel words you wanted to spill on your tongue.

“Is that whistle the only thing you blow?”

You blow your whistle. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Everybody’s heads look up, pausing in the midst of their laps, before beginning to swim back the pool edge.

“What happened?” Jimin asks as he nears.

“Everybody get out,” you command. “Except but you,” your eyes narrow in on him.

With hesitation and confusion, they follow your words, climbing out of the waters and forming a line at your side. Your eyes fall back down to Hoseok. Still smirking.

“Front crawl, sixteen laps.”

“…What?” His mouth gapes open, like a fish out of water.

“Front crawl, sixteen laps,” you say again.

“Are you crazy—”

“You don’t follow my instructions, you get reported,” you say, holding exceptionally tight onto the whistle cord. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Hoseok’s face grows darker once he realizes there was no way out of this. And now the smirk on his face that loves to taunt you with drops, his eyes no longer dance with the prideful mischief he brings onto you.

You blow the whistle. He sends you one last look before kicking off the wall and starting the first lap. You look attentively, watching him slowly make his way to the other side of the pool to maintain his energy. As he kicks against the wall, your eyes meet his briefly. This time, your eyes darken.

“Uh,” Jimin’s voice mumbles behind you, as if he was tiptoeing a dangerous line, “Coach?”

You turn away from Hoseok, meeting their horror drenched faces.

“Don’t you think—” Jimin pauses as your eyes harden, “sixteen is a bit—too much?”

Your eyebrows raise. “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Um, what are we supposed to do?” Taehyung asks carefully.

“Watch,” you respond, a preview of a growing smile on your features before you turn back.

Hoseok is on his third lap, still managing to preserve his energy, but you know it won’t last long. No, you’re glad it won’t last long. You want him exhausted, in pain, his expression begging for you to let him stop.

“She has too much power now,” you hear Jungkook whisper.

“She’ll be a tyrant in no time,” Taehyung whispers back.

“She might be worse than Coach,” Jimin adds, “and that’s saying something.”

“Just be glad you’re not him,” Seokjin mumbles.

Hoseok stops on his eighth lap, hanging on the pool edge and chasing desperately for breath in his lungs.

“No slacking,” you hiss.

“Just give him some time to breathe, Coach,” Jungkook interludes.

You ignore him, blowing the whistle. Hoseok struggles to move, panting.

“I said—no—slacking.” You’re about to blow the whistle again when you feel a hand wrap around your wrist.

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, dropping his grip around you, “let’s stop now.”

You take quick short breathes, completely unaware of how winded you had been feeling. The furious heat that had settled in your stomach was losing its warmth, quickly replaced with cold ice as the situation sinks in.

“Okay.” You try to say with the last bit of authority you could muster but you fail.

With that, Hoseok sighs with relief before attempting to pull himself out. Seokjin rushes to his side to help him.

“Well that was interesting,” Taehyung mutters under his breath. “Is that all for today, Coach?” He asks a bit louder.

You wipe your forehead, clenching your teeth uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Great,” Taehyung responds, throwing an arm over Jimin. “I barely finished one lap today,” he mumbles to him.

“Same here,” Jimin replies as the two walk towards the changing rooms.

Jungkook gives his water bottle to Hoseok, whom was leaning against Seokjin. Hoseok takes it, downing it and fervently trying to regain a stable breathing pattern.

“Well, uh,” Seokjin starts, “see you next practice, Coach.” He slings an arm over Hoseok, helping him walk back. Jungkook follows, offering water to him again eagerly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, embarrassment quickly washing over you over as you recount how you had acted.

“Dude,” you hear Seokjin hiss, “what did you even do?”

“Nothing—to des—erve—sixteen—laps,” Hoseok pants back, throwing a look over his shoulder and meeting yours eyes. “Maybe—just twelve.” A smirk.

You walk to today’s practice with a different mindset. You wanted to make it up to everybody, with the exception of maybe one person.

Who you were last week was definitely not you. Anger had clouded your reasoning and it took a toll on all the other boys. Maybe Hoseok deserved it, maybe not. But you no longer wanted whatever he throws at you to get the best of you.

When the team exits the changing rooms and pours into the corridor, their heads hang low to avoid the possible wrath residing within from you. You notice Hoseok’s absence, which you were glad for because it allowed you to talk freely.

“Hey guys,” you say sheepishly.

“Good morning, beautiful Coach!” Seokjin chirps. “I hope you’re doing well on this fine day, but not as fine as you!”

You cock your head to the side. “I’m not giving anybody sixteen laps, don’t worry.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slouch. “She’s giving us twenty.”

“No,” you say quickly. “Look, I’m really sorry about last practice. I was just very—emotional, and I wasted a swimming lesson on you guys.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Taehyung mutters.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jimin says and you smile, “we forgive your tyranny.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook pipes up.

“Just please don’t make us do laps again,” Taehyung pleads. “It’s so boring.”

“I won’t make you do laps,” you reply and everybody lights up. “We’re gonna play water volleyball.”

The boys begin to cheer, slapping each other on the back.

“This is great,” Seokjin says, “I have experience in volleyball.”

“And it’ll be even more embarrassing when you lose,” Jimin says, reaching his arm to sling over Seokjin’s shoulders.

“Where’s Hoseok?” Jungkook asks, looking around.

“It’s fine,” you say, “we’ll have even teams.”

“But he never misses a practice.” Jungkook grows a little more unnerving, his eyes darting around the corridor.

Your eyes catch Jimin’s, sending you an expression of concern. You shake your head at him, ever so discreetly so only he could see it. Not now.

Jimin looks away, turning to Jungkook and placing his hand on his forearm to soothe his nerves. “Jungkook, be on my team.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, watching the scene. “I wanted Jungkook.”

“Well experienced and volleyball prodigy, unwanted by anybody,” Seokjin mumbles to himself.

“Maybe you should be doing volleyball instead of swimming,” you tease and Seokjin rolls his eyes.

The doors open behind you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is as Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief.

“Hoseok!” He exclaims with glee.

“Sorry,” Hoseok says. “I slept in.”

“We’re playing water volleyball,” Taehyung says with dripping excitement.

You turn your head slightly. “Go change. I’ll get the equipment.”

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Jimin asks, most likely opting an opportunity to talk to you alone and lecture you again about ��sorting it out’.

“I’ll do it,” Hoseok interrupts, dropping his bag on the floor.

Ugh. You groan. “I’m fine—”

“Don’t be so prideful,” Hoseok says. “Come on.”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to draw any more attention to the two of you. You begin walking out back into the gym, making sure to always be one step ahead of Hoseok so you would not walk side by side with him.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, jogging to catch up. You walk faster. “Why are you acting so childish?”

You laugh. “Why do you want to get equipment? Are you planning to make out with me or something?”

It’s his turn to laugh. “I just wanted to make sure there were no personal feelings—”

“There are none,” you interrupt, unlocking the door to the gym equipment room. “There are no feelings,” you push your body against it with excessive force, “at all actually.”

Hoseok continues standing in front of the opened door. “I really don’t get why you’re so angry. If you were never interested in me, then you don’t have to keep acting like this.” He pauses, resting a hand against the nape of his neck. “And about last practice, I was just messing around. I didn’t mean to do any real damage.”

You pause, a volleyball in your hands, remembering the promise you had made yourself. Don’t let it get the best of you. You’re not this childish, and you won’t lower yourself for some guy.

You turn back to face him. “You’re right, I’m sorry—”

Hoseok moves quick, forcing you to back up right against the wall. He slams a fist by your head, making you let out a noise of surprise and drop the ball from your hands.

Silence. Nothing but your harsh breathing.

“…What are you doing?” You finally muster up.

He pushes his hand off the wall, smirking. “I just wanted to test something.”

Hoseok walks past you, picking up the net nonchalantly. You can’t find it in you to move, and you hate it. All you could do was stand there, wide eyed with a racing heart, like an idiot.

“Let’s get going, Coach,” Hoseok says, passing through the door and looking at you over his shoulder. “We have a game.”

Then he leaves, letting you bask in the silence. You raise a hand to rest on your cheek, feeling the immense heat giving off.

Shit.

You blow the whistle and the ball is thrown. Jungkook is cheering enthusiastically, opting out of the first game for Hoseok’s sake. He sits on the pool edge, between the net, his calves dipping into the water. You walk up behind him and ruffle his hair.

“Y/N,” he turns to you and you remove your hand, peering down at him curiously, “you need to seriously swim with us one day.”

You smile. “Maybe. I don’t swim.”

“You can’t?” He asks.

“I’m not very good, like you guys,” you correct. The ball goes out of the court and you go to retrieve it.

“Our ball!” Taehyung yells.

“He’s lying!” Jimin yells back. You really should have been paying attention.

“Shut up!” Seokjin exclaims. “Y/N, it’s ours! I swear.”

You giggle. “I don’t know who to trust,” you say, tapping your chin. “Seokjin seems tempting—”

“It’s ours,” Hoseok states. Your eyes flick to his, all traces of amusement dissipating from your features. You throw it at him, looking away before it even gets to him and blowing the whistle again.

You watch the match intently. Hoseok throws the ball over the net, and Seokjin gets ahold of it, passing it to Taehyung, who attempts a slam dunk on the other net, but Jimin saves before it could touch the water.

“Jiminie!” Jungkook yells. “Nice!”

“Thanks!” Jimin shouts in the midst of the chaos, passing the ball to Hoseok. Hoseok bounces the ball once on his clenched fist before jumping up and delivering a clean cut spike.

“Yeah Hoseok!” Jimin cheers.

“Oh come on!” Taehyung exclaims. “Coach! He bounced!”

“The rule is one bounce, Taehyung!” Jimin argues. He spins over to you. “Right, Coach?”

You flick your eyes to Hoseok. He’s staring at you, completely blank. Then the edge of his lip tugs upwards into one loathing smirk.

“No point!” You announce in spite.

“What?” Jimin shouts. “You said one bounce!”

“I don’t recall such a thing,” you say. “Ball to Team—uh—”

“Team Handsome!” Seokjin tells you, swimming over to give Taehyung a high five.

“Oh come on!” Jimin exclaims, thrashing his body around in the water.

Jungkook turns around to look at you. “You said one bounce.”

“I don’t remember,” you lie again.

“Did you forget because it was on Hoseok?” He says, a little more quietly now.

Your mouth forms a straight line. “No.”

“You guys would be good together, you know, if you didn’t hate him,” Jungkook comments, looking away back to the pool and you continue staring at the back of his head in shock. “My turn!”

“Take my place, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, swimming over to the edge. “I’m too tired.”

Jungkook contemplates the offer, shrugging his shoulders before swinging his feet over the other side of the net and jumping in.

“Hey!” Jimin shouts. “You can’t take our teammate! Jungkook come back—”

“I just did,” Taehyung retorts. “Help me up Coach.”

“You really need to improve your stamina, Taehyung,” you say as you take his outstretched hand.

Then you’re being pulled in.

The cold water is like whiplash to your unsuspecting body. Your mind is in a whirlwind, unable to do anything but thrash around helplessly. You pull up for air, frantically taking oxygen into your lungs but you keep your eyes screwed shut.

Hands grab at your waist, pulling you up and against the wall. Your eyes fly open.

Hoseok’s face is only inches away from yours. You feel his quick breathing against your lips and his piercing gaze digging into yours. From the corner of your eyes, you can see water droplets drip down from his hair strands and onto his forehead. His hands are still on your waist, gripping tight and slowly slithering to ride your shirt up, feeling the bare expanse of your hips on his fingertips.

Hoseok had you caged, again. He seems to realise too, breaking out into another smirk.

“Get off!” You snap back to your senses, pushing him off with all the force in your body. “I can fucking swim, you ass!”

You pull yourself up and out of the pool, everything done with harsh, rage fueled movements. Everybody’s looking at you in silence. They had been, for the past ten seconds since you were pulled in. But it didn’t feel like ten seconds; it felt like time had completely slowed.

You meet Hoseok’s wide eyes again, like you always seem to do. You feel red fury scratch at your insides and the walls of your throat. This fucking guy—

“Y/N,” Taehyung begins to say. He pulled himself out the pool too, reaching out again. “I’m sorry—”

“You know what?” You snap. “Finish the game yourself. You know where the equipment room is.”

You begin walking away, ringing your hair from the water and fixing your clothing.

You were absolutely freezing, and the autumn season weather wasn’t helping. A cold shiver runs through your body as you enter the gym, holding your arms close together and walking gingerly.

Even so, all you could think about was Hoseok.

Motherfucker.

“Y/N!” Yeri sits up from her bed. “What happened? Why are you soaking?” She gets up, placing a hand over your shoulders and looking behind at the trail of wet footsteps you left in your wake.

“Jung Hoseok,” you grumble.

“What? He pushed you into the pool?” She asks, searching her bag of toiletries for a towel and draping it over your figure.

“He might as well have.”

“Huh?” Yeri twists her face in confusion. “Let’s get you a new change of clothes.”

You sit down, droplets running down your face and your clothes sticking to your skin like glue. God, and why could you not stop thinking about how his hands had gripped your sides as if he was the only thing that could stop you from drowning? Or how dark his eyes got, and not in the way they ever did before, but so much deeper and sharper, like it could hold oceans within them.

“You’re gonna get a fever.” Yeri says, putting her hand on your forehead. “Your face is so warm.”

She hands you a tee and pair of shorts. “Thanks,” you mumble.

You wake up at 5 am, and in hindsight, you should have just gone right back to bed.

Your damp hair and bedsheets had dried from yesterday but your head was still dizzy. It hadn’t stopped violently pounding since—well—yesterday.

You didn’t even want to think about it because every time your mind wandered to those few seconds against the pool wall and caged by his arms, you could feel your face burn up with a furious heat. Even now, as you sit in your bed at the crack of dawn pouring into your windows, your cheeks feel hot.

And now that you’ve started thinking about it, you can’t stop. You fall back on your bed, rubbing harsh circles on your face, hoping it could calm the arising nerves and when it doesn’t, you throw the sheets off your body and slip on a pair of shoes, because after all, you did leave your keys back in the pool.

The keys were still in the lock when you arrive through the pool corridors, to your relief. You let out a content sigh at the sight but it’s short lived when you see the door wasn’t locked as you had hoped it was.

Your fingers reach out to turn the key, but right as you do, you hear the noise of splashing beyond the door. Your stomach twists uncomfortably, suddenly acute of the idea that somebody was using the pool without permission and if anybody found out, you would get fired. Your fingers move up from the key to instead turn at the handle and peak into the room.

Your eyes first land on the figure in the water. They were doing a laps to the other end of the pool, and you’re glad because they couldn’t see you.

You stick your head out a little further to watch the figure and it sinks in ever so slowly that this is Hoseok. You didn’t need to recognize his swimming cap going up and under the water to tell it was him, or by the sight of his towel hanging up on the wall.

It was the way he moved.

Everybody on the team was a good swimmer, but it was hard to compare them with Hoseok’s ability, and no matter how much he had scared or aggravated you, it was impossible not to take your eyes off of him when he swam.

He swam like a dolphin, swift and clean, cutting through the ripples like he was moving through air and not water with arms that powered against the surface of the water and legs that pushed off with carefully crafted agility. It was mesmerizing, and you couldn’t fathom investing so much time and effort into anything in your life as much as Hoseok did to swimming.

Maybe you first noticed it when you made him do those laps, or maybe it was now, 5 in the morning and in your pajamas, your head sticking out of the door and your heart pounding in your chest. You want to move, leave and take the keys before he notices you, but your eyes stayed glued on Hoseok and the way he reaches the edge of the pool and kicks off against the wall to finish another lap.

You watch him, almost absent-mindly as you relive the feeling of his body closely against yours, his breath hitting the surface of your lips, the smirk he engrained on his face right before you pushed him off.

You pull yourself further away from the open seam of the door as he reaches the pool edge again, but you can hear him take deep takes of air to recollect his breathing. You listen intently, trying to find an opportunity to slip away when he starts another lap. But it never comes.

“Y/N,” his voice sounds out and your heart stops. “I know you’re there.”

Your fingers shake around the door handle but you swing it open to reveal yourself nonetheless. You can feel your blood rush and palpate in your veins but you swallow it back with foolish pride.

“I just needed to get my keys, from—the other day,” you reply and the croak in your voice is undeniable. You hated being like this in front of him, like a lost puppy, but it was hard not to when he keeps catching you off guard like this.

“I took it with me after last lesson so nobody could take them,” he says, his chin resting on his arms. “Figured I would have just brought them with me again today instead of my own in case you were looking for them.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, chewing on the side of your cheek. Only the sound of gentle ripples against the pool wall fill the room. You hesitate to step past the doorway, choosing to stay at bay and at a safe distance. “Well,” you start, your stomach twisting at how uncomfortable the situation was, “can you, you know—get out of the pool so I can lock up?”

“You sure you don’t want to swim with me?” He smiles.

You hold back a groan. “Okay, then lock up yourself and give me the key when you can—”

“Wait, wait Y/N,” Hoseok says as you begin to turn away. He pulls himself out of the water so he sits on the edge, dipping his feet in. You stop in your tracks, your eyes fixed on the ground by him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Is there any other way to interpret that?” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs in response.

“Can we talk?” He asks carefully. “Just for a minute?”

“Shoot.” You say, shifting your weight to the other leg.

He looks at you perplexed, almost a bit exasperated. “Come in first. I promise I won’t pull you into the water like Taehyung.”

You sigh softly, giving into his antics by letting the door close behind you and inching towards the pool. “Yeah, you’ll probably trap me against another wall,” you mumble but even your own words create unease for you.

Hoseok smiles, his mouth lopsided. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.” He leans back, his palms resting on the tiled floor. He pauses before speaking again. “You seemed pretty angry yesterday.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Did I? What gave it away?”

He grins. “You’re feisty today.”

You clench your fists. “Is that all you wanted to say to me, or can I go?”

He breaks eye contact with you, turning to face the pool again. “No,” he sighs. “Sorry, I just get—carried away when it comes to you.”

You bit down on your lip, unsure of what he meant by that and hoping he wasn’t entailing what you thought he was. You stare at the back of his head, now titled to the side and looking downwards in front of him. You wish you wanted to leave now, but you didn’t. God, did you wish you did though.

You walk closer, slipping off your shoes and taking a seat on the edge of the pool like him, a few feet away. He’s surprised, turning to look at you with an expression of shock. You ignore it, instead focusing on swinging your legs up and down in the water.

“If—” he pauses again, “if you’re really mad, then I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows raise, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip hard. His words struck something in you; what were you mad about exactly? Was it really because he caged you in, and in front of everybody too? Or—was it because—he made you—feel something you just didn’t want to feel?

“I’m not mad,” you answer, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Really?” He asks and you nod slowly. “That’s good to hear.” You hold back a smile. “Does that mean you’re giving me permission to cage you in again?”

You snap your head towards him, a frown framing your face.

He chuckles, throwing his swimming cap off and to the side. “If it means anything, I swam across the length of the pool to save you, so I kinda saved your life when you think about it.”

“For the last time,” you grumble, “I can swim.”

“It didn’t look like it.”

“I was shocked, that’s all.” You look away. “You would be too if somebody just pulled you into the pool.”

“I think I’d remember how to swim no matter how I got in,” he says with a smile as you scoff again. He reaches out, punching your shoulder lightly. “Don’t you think you need to know how to swim if you’re going to be an assistant swimming coach?”

“I—” you stop yourself. “I’m perfectly eligible for this job.”

“How so?”

“I was a swimming coach for three years back in high school,” you respond.

His eyes widen. “Oh?” You nod. “I didn’t know that.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “Well, now you can stop doubting me.”

“I’ve never doubted you in the first place,” he says, softly now. You don’t meet his eyes and there’s a long pause. “How long were you watching me before I noticed you?”

“Like ten seconds,” you mumble, lying to him and yourself.

“I know that’s not true,” Hoseok grins, “I heard the door open 2 minutes before I said anything.” His grin grows as he watches you get flustered.

“Well, I—” You rack your brain for something to say but it seems like nothing could get you out of this one.

“Did you like watching me?” He asks, smirking.

You hesitate. “Yeah, I did.”

He perks up. “What?”

You break out into a smile against your will. “Do you really have to be surprised because I think you’re good at swimming?”

“So you’re being serious?” Hoseok is cheesing now, inching closer to you. “You’re giving me a compliment?”

You laugh. “I don’t have to like you to compliment you.”

His face falls at your comment and you immediately regret saying it at all. He redeems himself, chuckling awkwardly to cut the tension. “I guess you don’t.”

You watch him through lidded eyes, unable to comprehend how pushing him away now feels so wrong. Maybe because you really didn’t mean that. “I actually think it’s pretty cool that you do these practices every morning,” you say slowly.

He meets your gaze, searching your face for a hint of amusement. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like much nowadays,” he admits, turning away to look straight ahead. “It’s just, kinda part of my everyday routine.”

“Well, this ‘routine’ pays off, you know” you say, incapable of stopping the words flowing out of your mouth now. “I’ve never liked anything in my life so much to dedicate every day to it.”

“Nothing?” He frowns, looking at you.

“Nothing,” you repeat. “Time kind of just—flies by for me.”

“That sucks,” he replies and you can’t help but agree. “I think life should be more like—colorful moments, not black and white and fast like that.”

You smile down at your lap. “It’s been a little more colorful since I joined.” You feel his eyes on you but you can’t bring yourself to look back.

A pause. “From my perspective,” he hitches a leg up and out of the water to rest his elbow on, “everybody deserves something to be passionate about. It’s not great all the time, I mean, it’s really pressuring and you compare yourself to others a lot but—it makes life exciting, worth living for.”

You look up then when he turns his eyes away from you, unable to stop the smile growing on your face.

He turns back to you and you hitch your breath as you look into his eyes. “I think to fix your problem,” he smiles, “you just need to find something you’re passionate about.”

You sniff a laugh. “I can’t just—be passionate about something all of a sudden.”

“Of course you can,” he grins. “Think of it like—falling in love.”

You snap your eyes away. “I don’t—” you trail off but you’re sure it’s enough to give your message across to him. He notices you shrink, pulling further away from him in your insecurities and consequently building that barrier back up between you and him again.

You didn’t know how to fall in love, and you’ve started to think it’s because you didn’t deserve to. You act better than the guys who hit on you and your friends head over heels in love, but really, you’re jealous. Jealous everybody chased for romance, chased for companionship, because everybody seemed to have a chance at love but you.

There were no plans for you in this life; that you weren’t meant to live out your life in colorful moments, but a black and white film.

“That’s okay,” Hoseok says and you look up in shock. “There’s a first time for everything, right?”

The edge of his mouth turns up to form a crooked smile, and never has anything so simple and mundane made your heart race so quickly. When you look at him now, it’s in a different light. He’s not intimidating, or infuriating, or even physically attractive. He was just—beautiful.

He turns back in front of him, pulling his other leg out of the pool and standing up. “We should go now. Maintenance comes around this time.”

You nod, your mouth still gaping and your heart hammering in your chest. He offers a hand to help you up and you take it with shaky hands. It’s a bad idea because you stand up only inches away from his face, his chest almost pressed against yours and hand clutching your own. He seems to notice, taking a step back and letting go of his grasp around you.

“Well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I need to take a shower before I go.”

You nod. “Right. I’ll take the key with me—if you don’t mind.”

“Take it. It’s yours, after all.”

You chew your lip to suppress the smile. He jogs to retrieve his swimming cap and towel and you wait patiently by the door. He sends you a smile as you both enter through the corridors again.

“You know, Y/N, you could always join me,” he says, returning to his old persona and making you roll your eyes.

After he disappears into the locker rooms, you stand still for just a moment, taking in the way your stomach tightens and your heart flutters, even when he’s no longer around you.

If you could have a chance at love, you would want to take it on Hoseok.

You take a deep breath before pulling open the doors to the swimming pool. He sits on the pool edge, breathing hard and slick with water.

“Y/N,” he turns in surprise and his mouth forms a smile. “You forgot yours keys again?”

You huff a laugh. “No, uh, are you busy?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “I just finished a few laps. What’s up?”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I just, uh—um—”

Silence. “Go on,” he frowns in amusement, the edges of his mouth tipping upwards.

Why do you have to be so nervous? Just keep it together. There’s nothing to freak out about. Keep cool, keep cool, keep cool—

“You okay?” He’s full on smiling now, standing up to walk closer. You tense up, looking down at the floor instead of him, only judging the closing-in distance between you two by the sounds of his wet feet padding across the tiles.

“I, uhm,” is all you can say. He leans down so your eyes meet his. It catches you off guard, but most of all, it sets off all the butterflies in your stomach again after you thought you had calmed them down.

“What did you need from me?” Hoseok asks. He was so close now that you could smell the chlorine on his body, you could see the droplets running down his skin and how they catch the blue swimming pool lights. You walk backwards in response, your nerves on hot red fire and you wanting nothing more to undo the whole situation. But all at once, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than here with him.

“You, uh, you left your—” you continue walking back and he continues following, “soap.”

“My soap?” He chuckles.

“Your soap,” you repeat. Your back hits the surface of the door and you hiss in pain.

He soundlessly chuckles, placing a hand against the door by your head and virtually trapping you in. “We always end up like this, huh?”

“What are you doing?” You whisper.

“What do you want me to do?” He mumbles.

“I don’t know,” you respond, your head so light you can’t think straight.

“What were you going to ask me?” He asks but you’re sure he has an idea.

“I don’t know,” you repeat.

“A confession?” Hoseok smirks.

“Confession for what?” You hiss.

“You tell me,” he leans in so his breath hovers over the shell of your ear.

“Why are you always caging me in?” You ask, your eyes wistfully closing to focus in on your senses and indulge in the little contact he gives you.

He stares at you for a few seconds, and then pushes himself off the wall. “I’m off,” he says, placing his hands up into the air to emphasize his words. “You can leave if you want to.”

You stand there, and had it been absolutely anybody else, you would have. But your feet stay glued to the floor and your palms press up against the wooden door to keep yourself steady.

When you don’t move, his hands reach out for your waist and you jut them out so you can feel his touch sooner. Your throat hitches, and he notices.

“Am I crazy, or do you want me just as much as I want you?” He brings his voice down to a whisper, closing in on the distance between your bodies.

“You’re crazy,” you mumble.

“Then why didn’t you leave just now?” You feel his lips brush over your ears and you shiver against him, his wet exposed chest now tightly pressed against yours.

He connects his mouth to the back of your ear, slowly moving against the skin and skimming the surface with his lips.

“Mmm,” you let out, squirming and clenching your core, forgetting to answer his question. His fingers tighten around your hip.

“You’re so cute,” he groans, settling his parted lips against the juxtaposition of your shoulder and your neck, staining it with saliva.

Your hands grab his forearm for support. “Hoseok—”

“Is that not vulgar enough for you?” He props his head up, resting his cheek against yours. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You groan at his words. The swim shorts he had on did little to hide his growing bulge. “Ah, ah,” you squirm as he begins rubbing against your thigh, the tip brushing against your centre.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he whispers. “Can I touch you?”

You nod, letting out a gasp and moving in time with him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he groans.

Hoseok reaches down to cup your centre through your shorts.

“I can’t stop thinking about feeling you—”

You interrupt his words with another moan. His fingers begin rubbing you, flicking your clit through the thin material.

“Tasting you,” he adds and you squirm. “Feeling those hips move against my face.”

“H-Hos—” You can’t even finish your words as his hand begins moving faster with the intent to take you to the peak.

“God, and being inside you.” He leans back so he can drink in the way your eyes screw shut and your mouth gapes open to moan his name. “I could come in my pants right now at the thought.”

Your hand reaches down to grip his wrist. “Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“What if I do?” He asks, his fingers ceasing to move and your eyes fly open.

“Please don’t,” you plead, practically melting in his touch, his warm palm still cupping your centre. You were too dizzy, too turned on to even comprehend the power you gave him. But you didn’t care. You loved it. “Please, please, please.”

His fingers move again, now focusing on pleasuring your clit. You lean your head against the wall, exposing your neck to his hungry lips. He starts to suck at your throat and your hands tremble around him. There are too many sensations happening and all of them make explosions go off in your core. You let your tongue hang, imagining the taste of him on your tastebuds; his lips, his neck, his chest, his thighs, his cock.

“Right there,” you groan as his index finger brushes over your clit, creating delicious friction against your constraints, “right there, right there.”

Hoseok lifts his head up from your neck to watch you, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your skin breaks like rope. “Right there?” He nudges your clit again.

You tremble. “Right there—”

“Come on my hand.”

You do, electricity coursing through your veins and rendering your body immobile. He holds you upright, his hand still rubbing against you until you start to jerk from the sensitivity.

He pats your core, making you jump, the pats growing harsher into slaps. “That’s it, that’s it,” he whispers.

“Hoseok,” you mumble, pushing him off gently. He obliges, disconnecting his palm from you.

“Look what you did to my hand.” He puts his hand closer so you can see. The light reflects off his fingers, sheen and covered in your slick. You smile, taking deep breaths to recover from the high you reached.

Everything hits you at once. You just did this. With Hoseok. You did this—with Hoseok.

“You okay?” He asks, leaning his head down so the tips of your noses are brushing against each other. As he turns his head to the side to peck at your check, the reflection of the pool’s waves gets caught in his warm orbs, creating a whole ocean in his eyes. The light kiss on your face tickles, making you squirm in his touch. In response he rides your shirt up, placing the hand he touched you with against the skin of your hipbone. You feel your come, especially as he pulls it away to rest on the small of your back and the slick sticks to his palm.

“Uh,” your mouth hangs open, too sensitive and still on Cloud 9 to respond. You bite down onto your lip nervously, chewing into the skin for something to occupy your mind with instead of him.

This is too much, too much, too much.

“Wait,” you place your hands on his chest gently. “I can’t continue.”

Hoseok pulls away then, eyes darting around your face. “Oh,” he mumbles as he steps away, “I’m sorry. That was—”

An ugly pause.

“I’ll go,” Hoseok speaks. His eyes don’t meet you. “Maintenance, and all.”

You nod, looking down at the floor. He walks off to retrieve his towel and abandoned swimming cap, both in his hands with a weak grasp.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’ll—I’ll stay out of your way—from now on.” You feel your heart jerk in your chest at his words. His eyes land on your face and then fall on the floor in front of you before closing the door behind him.

You stand still for a while, the only noise that surrounds the room is the delicate splash of the water against the pool edge and your quick breathing. As you attempt to move, you feel your arousal between your legs and you’re reminded all over again.

You stutter trying to put the key in the door as you hear the noise of a shower coming from the changing room. You pause in front of it.

God, you couldn’t even say what you wanted to say; that you liked him, that he made your cheeks flush and your heart race, that you wanted him to be what you were going to be passionate about, that you weren’t experienced in love or dating or caring about somebody but you would try it with him.

Instead you said, nothing.

If you get one chance at love in life, you had blown it.

You walk past the changing room door, choosing not to do anything. It was probably the smart decision. But not the best. And definitely not the easiest.

Somebody bumps into your shoulder, hard.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

You snap your head towards the voice, a frown etched into your face and your mouth open ready to retaliate. Your expression falls when you see Taehyung staring back at you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Got you,” he says, leaning closer.

The hallway was clearing out, but that didn’t stop the hardened stares directed at you and the coveted swim team member.

“You’re lucky. I would have knocked you out if you were somebody else,” you say with a small smile.

Taehyung places a hand over his chest. “I’m honored.”

You begin walking and he follows your lead.

“So,” he starts, “this means you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Your response is to frown, because you frankly don’t remember what he thinks you’re supposed to be mad at him about.

It clicks. “Oh,” you say, “the pulling-me-in-the-pool thing?”

His eyes glass over. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you couldn’t swim—”

“Okay,” you stop in your tracks and his eyes widen, “I can swim. And don’t worry, I’m not mad. I completely forgot about it.”

Half a lie.

“Okay.” He sighs. “That’s good. You should have told me sooner. I felt like an asshole for like—four days.”

“Poor you,” you mock, beginning to walk again.

“Listen, I have something else to tell you,” Taehyung says. For a second, your heart misses a beat. Was this about—Hoseok?

Even thinking his name makes your stomach drop. You haven’t seen him since that day, and you’re so unsure of the events had changed things between you and him, if maybe you were wrong and—

“You’re invited to my party this Friday!” Taehyung says, placing his palms up and wiggling his fingers.

“Oh,” you sigh, relief washing over you. “I thought it was gonna be something worthwhile.”

“Hey,” he jabs you in the ribs. “Well, it’s not really a party. It’s just all of us, at the pool, at 10pm.”

You miss a beat, stopping in your tracks. “Us?”

“The swim team, and you,” he specifies. “You better be coming. This will be like—a ritual—a welcoming into our clan.”

You laugh nervously, fending off the nervousness that begins to root in your insides. “Uh, maybe. I’ll check if I’m busy.”

“What?” Taehyung exclaims. “You’re coming! This is like, our only chance while Coach is gone. And plus, you’re the only one with the keys!”

You bounce in your place. “I’ll see—”

“Oh come on—”

“I don’t know.”

He moves his mouth to the side. “Is this about Hoseok?”

Your eyes widen. “What—”

“He’s been worn down for the past few days.” Taehyung lets out a sigh. “I don’t know what happened,” he continues, his face turning serious, “but he should fix it, or you, I don’t know. Like talk it out or whatever.”

You don’t say anything, too taken aback to do so.

“Whatever did happen, it’s taken a toll on his swimming. And I already know you’re involved in it somehow. You’re all he talks about.”

Your eyes fall to the floor.

He stares at you, taking note of how affected you were from his words. “Just come. I promise, it’ll be fun. And it’ll make you both feel better.”

You almost scoff of how unaware Taehyung is of the situation, but you nod nonetheless. “Okay,” you say hesitantly.

“Great!” Taehyung exclaims, taking ahold of your shoulders and shaking you. “Remember, 10pm! Friday! Fun!”

“I’ll try not to forget,” you say a little quietly. He grins, letting go of your shoulders and heading off through the cafeteria doors.

“And bring your swimsuit!” He yells just before the doors close. Your eyes linger before falling back onto the floor in front of you.

Everybody waits by the gym doors, all except for one. As you approach and the sight settles in, a sigh of relief is exhaled from your lungs. The longer you can keep running away, the better.

Taehyung spots you first. “Y/N!”

“Thank God,” Seokjin continues. “I thought we were gonna freeze out here.”

“I should have done that,” you smile, “damn.”

“Y/N,” Jimin whines. “Quick! Open the door already!” He’s jumping his weight from foot to foot, cradling his body with his hands.

You take the gym key out from your pocket, letting it glisten in the moonlight for a show. You allow everybody else to pour in after you after the door is unlocked.

“Ah,” Jimin indulges in the warmth of the room. “So much better.”

“Let’s go inside the pool, come on! I’m tired of dry land,” Seokjin says, already taking off his shirt and slinging to the side.

Jungkook giggles. “You sound like a fish.”

“I am a fish,” he replies with a smirk. “Born inside the wrong body of a human.”

“A blowfish,” Taehyung adds and Jungkook laughs harder.

“And you’re a manatee, Taehyung,” Seokjin mutters.

The gym door’s handles are rattled with and then swung open. Everybody’s heads turn behind them but you can’t bear to do the same.

“Hoseok!” Jungkook’s voice is dripping with excitement.

“Fashionably late as always,” Seokjin says, following with what sounds like a slap to his back.

“I slept in,” Hoseok says. That’s when your eyes meet his and just as quickly, they snap away.

His sunken in, heavy lidded eyes. You heart stumbles in your chest, missing a beat, and you feel the need to hold onto something so you tug at your shirt.

“It’s 10 at night,” Seokjin says, his hand slung over Hoseok’s shoulders, leading him to the pool area, “that excuse doesn’t work.”

“You ever heard of a nap, Jin?” Jimin tails behind.

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook beckons and you realise you hadn’t moved since Hoseok had come in. You swallow nervously, making your way gingerly. Taehyung walks by your side, raising an eyebrow at you.

You know exactly what he’s entailing, but you don’t know if you have the strength to do what he’s telling you to do.

“Please, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers when you don’t respond. His eyes flicker to Hoseok ahead of him, and then back to you.

A newfound heaviness settles on your chest, making it difficult to breathe or talk. Taehyung pats your shoulder before jogging and catching up to Jungkook.

The pool area was beautiful at night. The lights had turned on automatically, illuminating the pool and the room with a bright cyan color. Its waves reflected in the roof above, showing off the deep black sky and its painted stars.

“Me first!” Jungkook says, stripping himself from his shirt.

Taehyung dives straight in, performing a crisp cannonball.

“Oh, come on Tae,” Jungkook whines once Taehyung comes up for breath.

The laughter drifts out of your consciousness and becomes white noise once you feel Hoseok’s immense presence behind you. Your breath hitches when you hear him shuffle around to put some distance between you and him. God, this is so awkward.

“Y/N, Hoseok!” Jungkook shouts out in the water, momentarily distracted as Taehyung puts his body weight on his. “Get in!”

You shake your head, stepping away from the pool side, your stomach turning at the thought of being so close to Hoseok again, a painful sting running through your body when you remember how that encounter had ended and how it ruined your only chance with him.

“Y/N,” Jungkook groans when he sees you’re not getting in.

Jin carefully drops himself into the pool. “Hoseok, jump in.”

You turn to the side and tense up when you realise how close the two of you had been standing next to each other. Your gaze meets the floor by his feet to avoid his.

“In a bit,” he responds.

Jimin is the last in the pool, swimming a little faster to catch up to the others who had now migrated more to the centre, leaving you and Hoseok virtually alone.

You walk closer to the edge, your eyes focused ahead of you as you take a seat to dip your calves into the water. You take in a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Hoseok takes a seat next to you, just as you knew he would. He gives you some space between you and him, dipping his fingers into the water between his legs.

Heat flows across your face and you could feel your heart in your chest race. It takes everything within you to lift your chin up and turn towards him. Thankfully, his eyes aren’t on you, but your gaze on him doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey,” he says.

You swallow. “Hey.”

He looks at you and you wince. “That day—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you interrupt.

“I do,” he replies. “I—I was—moving too fast. I shouldn’t have done anything at all.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “You did nothing wrong. I let you—you know.”

He tilts his head to the side, taking a pause to recollect himself. “You wanted to say something that day, right?” Your cheeks flush with warmth. “That’s why you came again, right?”

You nod slowly.

“Were you going to—” He sighs. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I just,” you pause, bringing your voice down to a whisper, unable to keep your tone up for much longer. “I don’t know,” you trail off.

He rolls his head around on his shoulders with a sunken expression. “Y/N,” he groans, “I’m sorry it had to go down like that. You deserve way more than—what happened. In some musty pool area against the door. And with a guy like me.”

Your breath halts. “I think you’re—” you hesitate, “a great guy.”

He laughs lightly, peering at you with endearment that sets off fireworks in your insides. “No, I’m really not. You deserve—I don’t know—like rose petal covered bed and candles and shit like that. And not with guys like me.”

“I’d rather have guys like you then roses and candles.” You say it without thinking, letting the words form on your tongue faster than your mind can process it. He snaps his head to you, his eyes soft and swimming around your face to read your expression. “Uh, I mean, uhm” you stammer, unable to come up with a response.

“Listen Y/N,” he swallows, “I—I’m crazy about you. In more ways than one. And I didn’t get to show that—last time, and I’m sorry.”

Your heart has not stop pounding in your chest, but now it feels absent all together.

“I said I would stay out of your way, and I’ll stay true to my word, if you want me to.”

Your lips quiver, and you can’t find it in you to answer. His face falls and he turns to stand up. You grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No,” you stop him, “don’t go.”

His eyes dance around nervously, hesitantly sitting back down.

“I, well I—fuck, I can’t stop mumbling like a fucking idiot,” you hiss, slapping a hand on your forehead and rubbing your eyes, “Hoseok, I don’t know how to say the things I want to say. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

His eyes soften but the grimness doesn’t leave his face. He’s holding his breath, like you are.

“I want to be like you,” you say slowly and at your own pace, “passionate about something. I didn’t have anything to be passionate about, but then, ugh, what I’m trying to say is,” you pause before laughing, “you make me so nervous. I’ve never felt like this.”

He smiles, inching forward. You flinch as he leans over to your face and plants a light kiss on your cheekbone. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

Your eyes widen and your teeth dig into your lips so aggressively they might tear the skin. He pulls himself into the pool, giving you one last look before swimming to the others.

“Hoseok!” Jimin shouts when he nears. “Who can hold their breath longer? Me or Jin?”

“You, of course,” he responds with, earning water to the face.

“Let’s just settle this with a contest. Y/N!” Seokjin turns around, waving you over. “Come over here!”

Everybody turns around to look at you, beckoning you over, but your eyes fall to Hoseok. You lift your shirt up and throw it to the side before pushing yourself off the edge and landing into the pool. You hear excited cheers ahead of you and smile down at your feet as you shuffle closer.

“Quick, quick,” Jimin says before turning back to Seokjin, “you’re going down, brother.”

He laughs, “yeah okay.”

“You’re both wrong,” Taehyung pipes up, running his fingers through is wet strands, “I can hold my breath longer than everybody here.” Jungkook clicks his mouth in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got something to say, Kook?”

“Let’s finish this silly arguement,” Seokjin says just as you arrive, “the old fashioned way.” Hoseok stands across from you in the naturally formed circle and you hesitantly lock eyes with him. His eyes are soft, a wisp of a smile on his pink lips.

“Okay! No cheating,” Jimin announces, lifting up his index fingers in urgency, “on the count of three!”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Jungkook chimes with childlike excitement.

Your gaze doesn’t leave Hoseok’s.

“One!” Jimin counts.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker down, and then back up.

“Two!”

You smile.

“Three!”

Everybody submerges themselves under the water at once, leaving you and Hoseok alone standing.

You stride forward. His arms fold themselves over your body and you lift your hands up to hold the sides of his face gently. His lips are lush, so carefully placed on yours. Your eyes fall shut to focus in on the feeling of kissing somebody, indulging in the feeling of kissing him.

He takes a quick, frantic breath and you swallow it without hesitation like a flash of courage had surged through your body. You feel the vibrations of his groan against your mouth and you pull back.

He looks incredible, more incredible than ever before. Pink tinted cheeks and the petals of his lips were bruised and parted, chasing for air.

This is it. You finally said everything you wanted to say.

God, does it feel so right.

Like a reality check, you suddenly feel the prominent presence of four other boys still submerged in the pool, hopefully unknowing to the situation happening above, but then again, experienced swimmers weren’t opposed to keeping their eyes open underwater.

You turn your back, pulling your body up and out of the water with hasty movements. You look behind to lock eyes with Hoseok, enticing him to follow after you with a subtle grin painting your features. You run, as quickly and safely as you can, out of the pool area and into the corridors.

Hoseok arrives a few seconds after you, dripping with water and chest rapidly moving up and down. He walks toward you, backing you up against the wall and placing his lips on yours again. You grab onto his forearm that clenched as you brushed your fingertips against the skin. The cool AC hits your body and you shiver, now painfully aware of how freezing your body had become within a few seconds.

“Let’s go in here,” Hoseok suggests, pulling you into the girl’s locker room. He reconnects his lips to yours the moment he gets the chance to, making you softly hum into him. Your hands go down to roam the bare expanse of his waist, digging your nails into the hip bone.

You break the kiss to take a few inhales of air, your heart so palpable you could feel it in your chest.

Hoseok tilts his head towards you, his eyebrows furrowing. “Y/N,” he mumbles, “are you sure about—”

“Yes,” you say with the confidence that had been so hard to lift from the ground a few days ago but now rested at the surface of your being. You wanted this, more than anything. You had waited all these years for a guy like Hoseok to finally steal your breath. But now, here he was, flesh and blood, wrapped around you, pink lips, heavy chest, tangible pulse, wanting nothing more than what was on your mind too.

He molds his mouth against you, slowly at first, but his movements quicken their pace and increase the urgency as you tuck your thumbs under the waistband of his swimmer trunks, pulling down enough to reveal a peak of his wet thighs.

He returns the gesture, lifting his grasp on the small of your back to meet the tied up strings of your bikini top and letting it fall to the floor by your feet. You let go of your grasp on his shorts to instinctively cover your exposed chest up, but he stops you, keeping your wrists at bay instead. Then he moves into your body, wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Ah,” you whimper, grabbing onto his arm for support. His tongue peaks out from the seam of his lips and circles around the bud before sucking lightly. “Ah, oh gosh.”

“Gosh?” He pulls away, smiling. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

You can’t respond as he moves onto your other breast, repeating the treatment and making your nipples harden in the cool air. Another shiver runs through you, and you’re not sure if it’s from the air conditioning or the pleasure.

“You still cold?” He lifts his head up back to your level, saliva coating his lips and chin. You nod weakly, too engulfed in the sensations he’s giving you to find your voice. With that, he grabs your hand, leading you into one of the bathroom showers and closing the door behind you.

He gives you one quick kiss, pressing his palm into your breast and molding it to his liking before pulling away and turning the shower nob on. Cold water spurts onto your bodies, making you yelp and giggle away from the spray. He laughs too, his eyes trained on your face, and as if something switched in him, he pushes you against the wall, making love to your lips and your tongue one more time.

“Hold on,” he whispers as he adjusts the nob again to turn the water’s temperature up. It sprayed your skin more comfortably now, even creating an aura of steam around the small cubicle. He doesn’t waste any more time, roughly pulling your shorts down and throwing them over the door. “Oh, sorry,” his expression turns apologetic when you flinch.

“No,” you say, “I like it.” You close your eyes. “That’s embarrassing.”

“God, no.” He slams your shoulder against the wall, cupping your heat over your swimsuit bottom before slipping his fingers inside the material. “Fuck,” he groans, “you feel better than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

You giggle against his shoulder, and it morphs into a moan once he starts moving, pinching and massaging your clit. His fingers rub against your slit before going back and wetting your clit with your own juices.

“Ah, ah, Hoseok,” you whine and he inserts an index finger into you. Your hips jerk against his hand, your fingers dig into his skin, your cries of pleasure get swallowed up by his mouth. He pumps slowly, curling inwards when they’re knuckle deep.

“You’re so perfect,” he grumbles against your lips, his forehead resting against yours with a sense of weakness. He pulls his hand out, sticking his fingers into his mouth and wrapping his tongue around his digits obscenely for your eyes only. “Fuck you taste so good. Wanna taste?”

You nod and he moves forward, sticking out his tongue that still had reminiscences of your juices on the tip. Your tongue meets halfway, licking up into the muscle and swirling it around to taste yourself. When you finish, he presses his body against yours, sneaking a hand behind to slap your ass.

“Who knew you were so dirty?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. “Or is it just for me?”

“Just you,” you whine back.

“Fuck,” he moans, leaning down to seal his lips on your neck and licking a stripe of saliva on the side. He falls to his knees, pulling your bottom down earnestly. You step out of it urgently and just as you do so, he delivers a stripe of saliva against your lower lips.

“Hoseok!” You groan, your fingers massaging his wet scalp and pushing his strands out of his face so you can see it better as he connects his plush lips to your centre, dipping the tip of his tongue into your wetness. His eyes are fluttered shut, jaw slack, wet droplets running down his pink cheeks.

He moves his muscle in and out, accumulating your juices on his lips and chin. He moves away to latch onto your clit, wet from his previous actions. He sucks hard, flicking it with his tongue from time to time. It was enough to make your knees weak and your heart hammer.

“Ah, Hoseok,” you yelp, jerking your hips and running a hand through your hair, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—”

“So quickly?” He teases, his tongue still connected to your clit. “Fuck, I’ll blow my load at the thought of you coming on my tongue. God, you’re so delicious, you’re so fucking good—”

“Hoseok—”

He ignores your warning, sucking hard again before moving his mouth against your slit. You come, riding his face in quick, hurried motions, pulling at his hair and using your other hand to slap at the wall uselessly. You had never felt so much lighter, like you were floating on the highest layer of heaven, and with a sight like the one you had, fuck.

He lodged his tongue against you, collecting every bit he could milk from you, lapping it up and licking you clean. Your body twitches in sensitivity, and he pulls away, leaving a sloppy kiss against your hip.

“Oh baby,” he groans, standing up and kissing the bottom of your jaw, “you’re so fun to eat out. I could do it all day. Fuck, you’re so tasty.”

You feel like you lost your voice, unable to say anything besides what sounds like his name and coos of ‘ah’ and ‘oh’. As he presses himself against you, you feel his length against your thigh, wanting nothing more than his cock on your tongue. You lean down and grab it through his shorts, pumping up and down painfully slow.

His eyes screw shut, chewing his bottom lip to keep his moans concealed. Then he pushes your hand away, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and locking them against the wall by your head.

“Hoseok,” you whine, your tongue wagging out of your mouth.

“Not for your first time,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your nose and taking deep breaths. “For your first time, you deserve to be eaten out and filled up, nothing more.”

You pout and you feel his breath hitch at the sight.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “you can take me out, but that’s it.”

Your lips form a grin and you feel his length twitch against you, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream at how much you affect him. Your fingers slide underneath his shorts, wrapping themselves around his dick and pumping slowly. He throws his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically with each breath he takes.

With one hand, you pull down his shorts, stroking the revealed skin. He helps you by pulling down the other side, and then he was completely exposed. So immaculately beautiful and sinful, you wanted to feel his whole body on your tongue and leave hickies everywhere in your wake. You rub the pad of your thumb of his tip, running it over his slit and collecting his pre come.

“Y/N,” he whines and he sounds so beaten, so weak, desperate for release. You lift your thumb up to your mouth and envelop it in. His lids fall halfway, teeth trapping his bottom lip so harshly. It releases itself to sound out a deep grunt. “Shit, I want to be in you.”

His hand goes to massage the side of your waist, another to dip into your centre again.

“You’re so wet, fuck, I’m gonna come before I’m even in. Embarrassing right?” He lets out a breathy laugh as he rubs his length along your lips, coating it with your slick and rubbing it against your clit.

You shake your head frantically.

He groans, pushing his head into you. “It won’t take much for you to see that,” he whispers, “with you, I’ll come in seconds.”

Your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks burn up even more. He pushes all the way in until your hips are flush against his. A groan slips out of your lips.

“You okay?” He leans down to peck the side of your mouth.

“Just hold on,” you grunt, shutting your eyes close. The pain is immense with his hilt buried deep into you.

“Let me do a stroke,” he suggests and you nod. He pumps out, and then slowly back in. You clench, holding your breath hostage. “Now?”

“Hurts,” you mumble, “but keep going. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Hoseok interludes, pumping at a leisure pace, gently. A surge of pain and pleasure shots through your system. “Better?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. He still moves with caution but it’s sped up a little more.

It feels like it’s just you and him in this world, smushed against each other’s bodies in a shower cubicle, his arm holding up your leg to reach further and your moans echoing off the walls.

He looks amazing with his wet hair pushed back and your slick coating his mouth and his eyes lidded with dangerous intent. The room grows warm and musty underneath the hot shower head but you pay no mind, especially as the heat brings rubescent color to his face and his skin feels like fire under your touch.

He feels incredible too now, the initial pain now faded into dreary pleasure you can hardly fathom. He hits a particular spot and you let out a drawn out groan.

“You should be a little quieter, baby,” he grumbles with another hard thrust, “there are people out there, you know? You want them to hear how you sound when you get fucked?”

You squirm uncomfortably, having forgotten the rest of the team was still only a few rooms away and walls are paper thin these days. The thought of anybody but Hoseok right now didn’t seem ideal, but his words lights a burn in the pit of your stomach.

“God, you’re naughty,” he grunts, slowing down his pace to an agitating back-and-forth. “But I don’t want them to know how you sound. Let out those cute moans for me.”

You nod feverishly, leaning forward to connect your mouths together and dance with his tongue. Every touch feels electrified now that you’re so close to your peak; so close you can feel it gather at your throat and savour on your tongue.

“You’re so good, Y/N,” Hoseok says as he rests his forehead against yours, thrusting into you with a newfound urgency that makes you let out nonstop whimpers. “You have no idea. God, I’m so lucky.”

Your heart is racing to the finish line, your pants frantic and your body clenching uncontrollably. If you were to be honest, you had never felt so incredible, and you know it’s far beyond the act of having sex for the first time.

It was him. His sweet dirty talk that makes you wet and blush at the same time, every touch so carefully chosen in order to make you feel good, the way he confesses and the way he smiles and his cute laugh; you were really crazy for him.

You let go, like a heavy stone had been lifted off your chest. Fireworks, sparks go off in your abdominal, you start seeing black spots in your vision because the pleasure completely throws you off but in the best way possible. He follows soon after, pulling out just in time to come onto the tiles below and letting it wash down into the drain.

His hand pumps his length a few more times until he meets your gaze again, and suddenly you’re all he’s ever known. He rushes forward, kissing you gently and rubbing the small of your back. You pull away for air and he peppers kisses along your cheek bone and on the button of your nose.

“So,” you say, “what are we gonna do?”

He leans back, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” you start, reaching to rub your collarbone, “are we going to go back out there or—”

“No way,” he laughs, “those are my best friends, and they’d never let it down if they knew we did it in the girls’ locker room.”

You giggle with him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “At least it wasn’t the boys’ locker room.”

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.

“It’s gonna be cold,” you mumble, remembering you left your shirt back at the pool and he only brought his swimming trunks in.

“We can run?”

“Hypothermia doesn’t stop just because you’re fast.”

He taps his chin. “I’ll go in and steal one of the boy’s towels. I know Jin always keeps a spare in his locker.”

You smile. “You know his passcode?”

“He’s a simple guy,” he pushes your shoulders back so you’re looking at him. “Birthdays and what not. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You bend down, picking up your discarded and still wet clothing, rubbing your palms against your skin to momentarily create friction. As you’re making your way out of the locker rooms, you feel Hoseok wrap his arms around your figure, bringing you dense warmth from his upper body. He goes in through the door, grabs the towel, and wraps it around you and his shoulders, keeping a hand at your hip and the other gripping the towel over him.

The night was still young, sky pitch black, and neither of you found yourselves caring too much about the missed opportunities and the lost time on your hands. You felt perfectly content going to bed early wrapped around his, entangling your legs with his legs, drumming your fingers along his rhythmic chest.

He was the last person you thought you could ever care for, but here you are.

“Shit,” you hiss. His clock blinks a red 4:58 mockingly. “Hoseok,” you shake him awake.

“Mhm?” He mumbles, blinking awake.

“Get changed,” you say, throwing the sheets off of you.

“Oh fuck,” he curses, taking a look at his clock and jumping off the bed. “Coach will be so pissed—”

“This is like the second time in a row, Hoseok,” you grunt, pulling a shirt over you and slinging your bag over your shoulders. “This never happened last year. I’m getting fired.”

“No you’re not,” he says as he climbs into his swimming trunks, “it’ll be fine.”

You run together through the campus, hand in hand, the smell of another annual autumn invading your senses, crisp leaves crunching under your feet and a musty breeze. You can see the early creeks of the sun peeking through, and it’s a telltale sign you’re late.

Hoseok bursts through the doors first and you follow behind him. Four heads turn to your direction.

“Late as always,” Coach mumbles down at his feet, “is being on time not a cool trend anymore?”

“Sorry Coach,” Hoseok speaks up.

“We slept in,” you say for him.

Taehyung whistles. “Bow chicka wow wow—”

“Don’t you guys have another other excuses?” Jimin clicks his tongue, biting back his oncoming giggles.

“Let’s just get going,” Coach sighs. “Eight laps for you, Hoseok. And you,” he turns to look at your face. You tense up. “I thought I told you you were supposed to stop him from coming in late.”

“Sorry Coach,” you duck your head down. “Last time it’ll happen.”

“To be honest Coach,” Seokjin says, “there is something about Hoseok’s bed that makes you want to sleep for much longer. I think it’s because his sheets smell so nice. And he got those silky pillows recently.”

“Get in the pool, Seokjin,” Coach tilts his head to the side and Seokjin follows his orders, making Jungkook choke out a laugh.

“How do you know, Jin?” He asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Taehyung reaches the pool edge first, closely followed by Jungkook.

“Woo!” You cheer, flashing him a great grin. “Nicely done!”

Taehyung gives you an out-of-breath smile with a thumbs up. All your hounding about improving his stamina for the past year had paid off. Everybody gives him a round of applause once they reach the finish line too. Jungkook says the races are the best part of the lesson. Seokjin swears he’ll beat Taehyung one day, but that’ll be hard now that he’s become ‘a swimming machine’.

“Y/N, you got a moment?” Coach asks.

You nod, turning back to the team. “Let’s do two laps of butterfly now. Jimin, don’t forget to keep your legs close together.” They kick off the wall at the sound of your whistle and you pull away from the lesson. “Yeah, Coach?”

“Y/N, I wanted to say I like what you’ve done with the team. I can see the improvement these boys have had since you’ve taken a lead in the lessons,” he says and your eyes light up.

You’re too caught off guard to answer, instead choosing to grin like an idiot.

“Maybe in the future I can look into stepping your position up to Co-Coach. It’s no guarantee just yet but—”

“Thank you, Coach!” You squeal and then clear your throat. “I’m honored.”

“I said no gu—” He stops himself when your expression doesn’t budge. “Oh, one more thing,” he adds and you raise your eyebrows, “about your friend.”

“Yeah?” You perk up.

“Yerim, am I right?” You nod feverently. “I’ve looked at her application and we could use somebody to keep the team organized when we go to nationals.”

“So—she’s hired?” You grin.

“No guarantee—”

“Got it, Coach,” you grin even wider, “I’ll tell her the good news.”

Coach sighs and then forms a smile. “I think I see Jimin over there kicking with two legs.”

You turn around. “Hey! I said keep your legs close together when you kick.”

Jimin pulls up from the water, annoyed. “It’s hard!”

“Well do one more lap,” you instruct and he groans, “I’ll watch you this time. Everybody else rest.”

Before you go to follow Jimin’s lap along the side of the pool, you catch Hoseok’s eyes. He leans against the edge, his arms propped up and his gaze softly settled on yours. You feel your legs tremble at the sight, and even after all this time together, he still has that effect on you. You send him a small smile and he eagerly returns it, his expression melting tenderly. Your heart beats so fast you almost forget you’re supposed to be watching Jimin’s lap.

When practice ends, Hoseok slings a wet arm over your shoulders, bringing you into the warm envelope of his towel.

“What you down to do today?” He asks, rubbing your arms.

“I’m still tired,” you answer, “and I really like those silk pillows you got.”

“Bought them just for you,” he grins and you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, just for you and me. I think Jin slept in my bed once though.” You laugh. “Let’s go back to my dorm and catch some winks of sleep.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Maybe I can eat you out before you take a nap—”

“I did not just hear that,” Taehyung exclaims behind you.

“Hey!” You swat your hand at him. “This is a private conversation!”

“God, I’m gonna be sick,” he holds his stomach for dramatic purposes. “God forbid our baby Jungkook hears those vile words.”

“What’d they say?” Jimin asks curiously.

“Alright, alright,” Hoseok puts up his hand, letting go of you in front of the boys’ locker room, “let’s be a little mature.”

“What’s happening?” Jungkook perks up.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung rushes forward, covering the boy’s ears, “stay by my side. Don’t ever walk near Y/N and Hoseok in the middle of conversation, do you hear me?”

“He can’t. You have his hands over his ears,” Seokjin comments, pushing past the doors.

“Fair point,” Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook, patting Jimin on the back before disappearing into the changing rooms.

“Y’all nasty,” Jimin mumbles and you laugh. Jungkook follows after him, furrowing his eyebrows at you as if trying to decipher the situation but failing cutely.

“Okay but really,” Hoseok says in the middle of the doorway. “How about it?”

You grin. “Get changed, Jung.”

3K notes · View notes