#glad they let her be properly bi this time 'round
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Shamelessly stolen off facebook
And transmasc version I made because it's scarily accurate
#i didnt have colorful hair in 2016#much to my regret#transmasc#transfem#scott pilgrim takes off#scott pilgrim#ramona flowers#ramona flowers bisexual icon#glad they let her be properly bi this time 'round
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Traduzione, Per Favore?
EDIT: AO3 link!
~~~
“What would my name be in Italian?”
Mario studied the princess’ face briefly. Her sapphire eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun, full of sincerity and curiosity; he almost wanted to make something up, something exotic-sounding yet convincing enough that those crystal eyes would shine even brighter.
But she was far too clever for that. She’d see right through him. Or worse — she would be so giddy that she’d believe him, then eagerly relay what she had learned to Luigi, and then his brother would never let him live it down. Mario, impulsive as he could be, knew how to calculate risk and reward, and that was one risk not worth taking.
“...Peach.” Uttering her name sent a chill through him that he only barely repressed— no, that felt so wrong, far more intimate than he was permitted to be with her. “Principessa Peach,” he corrected, and he pulled his cap from his head, absently fanning himself with it. It was a warm day. He could easily pass the color he felt pooling in his cheeks as a consequence of the weather.
The princess’ face fell. “Oh,” she said, soft, but curt. Her brows furrowed, and her lips gathered into a gentle pucker. Suddenly, Mario was happy he hadn’t given into his earlier temptation, because how many people had ever seen the beautiful and regal Mushroom Princess pout?
It caught him off-guard enough that he chuckled, and that in turn softened her downtrodden expression. For a moment, she graced him with a gaze full of the fondness and warmth he’d become so familiar with… and then the pout returned with an indignant force. And, of course, that only made hiding his amusement that much harder.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she chastised, though the dimples that formed in her cheeks betrayed her lack of sincere ire.
Mario, already luckier than most, supposed his day couldn’t get much better than this.
Oh, he was so glad she had expressed interest in learning his native tongue. It was an interest she’d held for some time now, she had confessed — “It never felt right to ask,” she admitted one day, looking down as she tapped the tips of her fingers together, “since it’s one of the few things you and Luigi were able to bring from your birth world. I… felt that asking to partake in it would be overstepping.”
Mario had never seen it that way. To him, it was one more thing he could share with her. One more wall between them that didn’t seem quite so insurmountable anymore.
Granted, he didn’t fancy himself much of a teacher, so he mostly just taught her assorted words and phrases over their bi-weekly tea and pastries (merenda, as she had learned last week; today he was greeted with an uncertain yet cheerful “Facciamo merenda!”, and were he any bolder, he would have asked her to repeat it over and over again, just for him). And as endearing as it was, the thought of the princess privately straining to overhear one of the brothers’ personal conversations just so she could enjoy the foreign melody of their otherworldly tongue, he certainly enjoyed this approach much more, and could say with certainty that she did too.
Still, as she sipped at a fresh cup of peony tea, something a hint sour lingered in her expression.
“You’re disappointed, Princess?” he guessed. She hesitated for a moment, clearly prepared to deny the accusation, but she sighed instead and leaned back into her chair.
“It’s so silly, I know.” She shook her head with a small grin, as if in disapproval of her own behavior. “I just thought… well, I’m named after a fruit. Surely you have a word for ‘peach’.”
“Yes,” Mario agreed, pulling his hat back onto his head now that he was properly cooled, “in which case you would be Principessa Pesca. But you’re not a peach, are you? You aren’t small and round and fuzzy.”
“No,” Peach agreed in turn, “that would be you.”
The force with which she clapped her hands over her mouth sounded downright painful.
In the ensuing silence, they gaped at one another, him in astonishment, and her in pure, stupefied horror; the white silk of her gloves only served to make her flustering features look redder still. And that did him in.
The shock of her response melted into pure mirth, and Mario buried his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking and his breath coming in gasps. “Hey, there’s a new phrase for you to practice!” he offered where he could find air. “You can tell people, ‘Il mio amico Mario è tondo e peloso, come una pesca!’” Somehow, he found himself hoping she actually would. Never had he been so delighted to be 5’1, over two-hundred pounds, and scruffier than his own father.
And that was before the most wonderful, most heavenly sound he’d ever heard even hit his ears. Once it did—
It was like windchimes on a cold winter morning, singing out into bright and beautiful emptiness. Like laying out on the rooftop of the high-rise he and Luigi once inhabited and watching the stars, forgetting about bills and budgets and feeling for one fleeting instant like he was alone in the universe. She was laughing, really and truly laughing, bent ever so slightly forward under the weight of her amusement, eyes screwed shut and brimming with unshed tears.
Mario forgot his own amusement, even as Peach sputtered apologies and wiped at her eyes. He’d never heard her laugh. Giggle, yes, but nothing like this.
She looked up at him, eyes still brimming and squinting, face still pink with shame and humor. Her light lipstick was smudged at the corners of her mouth, and he noticed now that it stained the palm of her right hand as well. This was, to some extent, the most human she had ever looked.
A dull but urgent pain coursed through Mario’s body, and only then did he realize he’d stopped breathing.
He could die, he thought as he sucked in a breath as quietly as he could manage, he could honestly die here and now, and that thought didn’t worry him nearly as much as it should have.
“...Princess.” Mario scrambled his head for ideas. He needed to hear that laugh again. “What… what would my name be in English?”
Peach looked confused for a moment — right, it wasn’t called English here, though what it was called had escaped his memory — but she connected the dots quickly enough, and her lips began to quiver.
“...Mark?”
"Oddio!" Mario called, almost choking, because a well-meaning but sheltered Brooklynite had once suggested the brothers advertise themselves as Mark and Louis to attract more business and fewer bigots. Had Luigi told her that story?
The laughter began anew, with renewed vigor, and Mario stifled as much of it as he could into his glove just to hear hers better. It was even more wonderful the second time.
“No,” she said as the last of her giggles died down, “I can’t see you as anything but Mario. Your name is perfect as it is.”
“And yours is too!” Glancing down, Mario caught sight of a miniature tart on the tiered tray between them, lemon-flavored, from the looks of it. “You have a lovely name, Princess,” he assured her, plucking the delicacy from its resting spot. All that revelry had made him hungry again. “It needs no translation.”
“I’ve learned today that I especially like hearing you say it.”
Mario blinked, the tart in his hand suddenly forgotten.
Peach’s eyes locked onto his and commanded his full attention. She dabbed a cloth napkin at the corners of her mouth, correcting her makeup, and smiled softly. A feeling not dissimilar to his earlier air-deprived pain returned, as though his entire abdomen were being tied into knots like a big balloon animal, though he knew for a fact he was still breathing.
“You needn’t be so formal all the time, you know,” she said. When she set her napkin back onto the table, she looked once more as she always did: perfect, as though she were carved of marble. “You are my friend.”
Was that… an invitation? Mario gulped at the thought. He knew full-well how Peach cherished him, and she in turn knew he loved her just as much (and then some, but that she would never learn about, he’d decided long ago). But she was still… and he was just…
“I’ll… keep that in mind,” he finally said, nervously glancing back to his tart, “Princess.”
The silence that fell between them as he chewed wasn’t uncomfortable, per say, but it felt oddly heavy. Something in Peach’s smile changed, and she glanced down as well. But before he had time to analyze what that change was or why it made his chest feel tight all of a sudden, she reached for the teapot sitting beside the tray.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward to fill Mario’s half-empty cup, “walk me through that last one again, please?”
Mario raised an eyebrow, because speaking through a mouthful of lemon curd would be unbecoming. He wondered for a moment if a bout of such poor manners might make Peach laugh again.
Peach struggled through a few syllables as she refilled her own cup: “Eel-mee-oh, um, ah-mee…”
Mario made a noise of understanding, swallowing the last bite of tart and wiping the crumbs from his mustache. If he couldn’t hear her laugh again yet, he could at least hear her still-untrained accent, and that was almost as good. “Il mio amico Mario,” he started, initiating a call-and-response sort of game. And when she learned what she was saying, she laughed once more, a sound Mario knew he would be addicted to by day’s end.
Maybe one day he could return the boldness she’d shown in teasing him today. Maybe one day he could accept that invitation, could call her la mia amica Peach instead of la principessa, could really and truly feel he deserved her presence, her companionship, her friendship.
One day, maybe.
#super mario#smb#mario#princess peach#mareach#mario x peach#at long last! mareach fluff#with a tiny sprinkling of angst there at the end because I can't help myself#I'd like to thank Reverso Context for personally saving my sanity and assuring me the Italian is (probably and mostly) correct#peaches' fancy fics#fanfic
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[TRANSLATION: POTATO 04.2021]
7 MEN SAMURAI CROSS TALK + RECENT MEMO
Scans not mine
Neither an English nor a Japanese native speaker
Feel free to correct me, thanks
WHO IS NO. 1 IN TERMS OF ACTING ABILITY!?
For the purpose of checking out the acting ability of the 6 members, different patterns of "smile" were shown. At the end of a heated discussion in the round table discussion, a member who is good at telling lies was revealed!? (The interview was taken in the middle of February.)
Reia-kun is a professional in acting to deceive people
Yabana: This time's theme is "acting ability".
Sasaki: (in loud voice) WHAT!
Nakamura: No, he didn't mean "act here now" LOL. You run into the conversation too fast. Recently, for a project for YouTube, we did a prank on Bana-san (Yabana), right?
Motodaka: We did a cosplay where we shouldn't be recognized. During that time, I desperately covered everyone with my body so that everyone's disguise will not be caught by Bana-san's sight LOL. It was an acting where I used my whole body.
Konno: And us, who are being covered, were disguising ourselves with all our might. It was fun!
Sugeta: Rinne even changed his pants on the spot LOL.
Nakamura: Yabana, how suspicious were you at that time?
Yabana: I think [I got suspicious] when I saw Taiko's face laughing happily LOL. It's obviously that that is his face when he trick people. With that, Taiko's acting level is quite low.
Sasaki: That's what I also think LOL.
Nakamura: Speaking of YouTube, we always have a birthday surprise plans for the members, but for some reason, we didn't pull anything for Katsuki's and Konpi's (Konno) birthdays.
Konno: Yeah. Honestly, I thought, "Have they forgotten about my birthday?" and I got sad LOL.
Motodaka: I am not saying to prepare us 2 different surprises, but why did you not prepare anything?
Yabana: No, you don't know? Perhaps the reason why we are talking about this now might probably because we've got something for you too, you know?
Sugeta: Yeah, this might be a foreshadowing, you know?
Motodaka: There's definitely none LOL. Our birthdays passed a long time ago already. If you insist, Reia's birthday is coming soon, right? LOL
Yabana: When you make it look like there's a surprise but there's none at all is the saddest pattern of prank LOL.
Sasaki: Who might be in the 1st place in acting in private among us?
Yabana: It is probably Reia-kun. He often deceives people, he is an expert in acting!
Nakamura: I myself think so too LOL.
Sasaki: Didn't you fool HiHi Jets and Bi Shounen all along?
Nakamura: I did, but I can't remember what it is about. They are pure so they believed for around 2 years in the proper lie I said to them LOL.
Motodaka: Reia is good with acting in times like that. Me too in the past, he told me, "the staff are very mad" with a facial expression that looked real and I completely believed him.
Nakamura: Fufufu...if you look closely, I am doing the face saying, "I am lying." On the contrary, Taiko is usually bad when telling lies. His feelings are shown on his face immediately. It is easy to understand his face like "Is that an emoji!?"
Yabana: A speech bubble saying, "I am telling a lie now" is faintly coming out from him LOL. That's why when he talked at the beginning of my prank video, I noticed about it immediately.
Motodaka: Rinne is also easy to know if he is telling a lie, right?
Konno: His feelings totally show in his behavior.
Nakamura: Yeah, yeah. He is bad at acting lively especially when he is feeling down LOL. He obviously couldn't talk.
Yabana: It is like he is saying, "I am having a problem."
Sugeta: ...I agree with you LOL.
Sasaki: Konpi is also easy to understand, right? When he fools others, he will certainly look at my eyes and will grin.
Konno: I want to make the 2 of us the suspects LOL.
Nakamura: When Katsuki tricks people, his ears immediately turns very red LOL.
Yabana: His ears are a lie detector, right? It turns very red like it is going to explode.
Nakamura: If there is someone he likes, he will be exposed immediately. She will be like, "This person probably likes me. Since his ears are super red." LOL
Motodaka: What~ I don't like that. Somehow or other, I think it is something you can't falsify LOL.
Sasaki: On the contrary, Yabana is good with lies . He said he was interviewed in the street by chance for 「Getsuyou kara Yofukashi」recently, but that one is also an acting, right?
Nakamura: The truth is that he can't play intruments too, right?
Yabana: Hey, stop it! To the readers, what they just said are both lies, okay?! LOL Or rather, I have not deceived people or lied to anyone!
Everyone except Yabana: That's a lie~!
Nakamura: 7 MEN 侍's best actor is not me but Yabana-kun~.
Yabana: Stop~that~! LOL
Influenced by the acting coaching of Koichi-kun for the DREAM BOYS
Nakamura: I really like the performance of Taiko when he is on stage.
Yabana: I know. Well, he is in character, but suddenly his aura of being a stupid brat was gone and becomes a human being LOL.
Motodaka: Yeah, right. When he was on stage, he became able to speak good Japanese.
Sasaki: ...I hate you all! LOL
Yabana: I also like Rinne-kun's acting in「DREAM BOYS」. There's a scene that (Domoto) Koichi-kun enthusiastically coaches, and as the result of Rinne steadily absorbing the advices, Rinne is turning into Koichi-kun day by day LOL.
Sugeta: I think since he presented a really good example, so I was influenced naturally. I was thankful. Rinne likes Katsuki's acting in 「Nounai Poison Berry」.
Konno: Ah yes, that was a good one.
Everyone except Konno: You haven't seen that, right? LOL
Sugeta: Konpi has not seen any of the members' stage plays until now, right?
Konno: That's just a coincidence LOL. Because during the showing of 「Oretachi Oenya!!~」where Taiko and Rinne appeared, wasn't it exactly during our preparation for 「~The Happy Prince」?
Nakamura: If you say so LOL. Katsuki's acting and Konpi's acting in 「The Happy Prince」were also good.
Yabana: Yeah, right. Serious acting suited them. Also, Konpi's appearance when he sat on the chair and turned round and round LOL.
Konno: Thank you! I had put all of my acting into that scene LOL.
Sugeta: Bana-san tried different acting patterns in daily special corner of「DREAM BOYS」. I think that was really good!
Yabana: I change my hairstyle depending on the day. And then, I match my acting with my hairstyle like, "Today I will go for a mood that looks slightly weak," or "Today, I am in all back hairstyle so I will go for a character that seems strong," and I am changing my acting a little by little. I also changed my costume a little by little, for some reason, all the cast laughed at me on the day where I appeared in tank top...LOL.
Sugeta: Coz you are skin and bones LOL.
Konno: Yeah, right. You are so thin that you look pitiful LOL.
Sasaki: Reia. For me, Reia's acting on stage is also good of course, but I think his acting on television is overwhelmingly good. You do understand me, right?
Konno: Yup. That's exactly about the drama「Gekikaradou」(TV Tokyo) he is appearing in currently, right?
Motodaka: In a sense that he can do whatever he wants is very Reia. I think it is a great thing that he was able to properly reflect himself to his character.
Yabana: The "yey🎶" in that drama is also like Reia's humor, right?
Sasaki: Well, but the usual Reia that we see is close to his character in Dream Boys.
Yabana: We think, "When will we be get beaten?" so we are constantly scared of him.
Nakamura: You are kidding LOL.
Sasaki: Let me ask just in case, since you are moving towards dramas, it doesn't mean that you are throwing away stage plays, right? Please make this clear.
Nakamura: Of course! LOL. Don't say weird things, I want to challenge acting in stage plays from now on too!
Motodaka: Which reminds me, the stage play where Rinne is starring (「Hidamari no Ki」) is starting soon, right? It starts in March, right?
Sugeta: Yup, you're right. By the time this magazine issue comes out, the Tokyo performance have started already.
Nakamura: Doesn't that look super interesting? I also wanna watch it soon.
Motodaka: More than anything else, I am sincerely hoping that the play will start safely. This is what everyone who got an experience with stage play thinks.
Konno: Rinne is lucky so he will definitely be okay! I believe in that!
Sugeta: Even though you said that, you surely won't come and watch, right? LOL
Konno: No, I will go. I will watch you!
Sasaki: This one is an acting, absolutely LOL.
Konno: I am coming~ LOL.
RECENT MEMO
Sugeta Rinne:
I see off my younger sister, who is taking the national examination, at 6 this morning.I want her to do her best that she can use all the effort she exerted up to this day. Not only my sister, but Rinne and my younger brother also got a charm from our papa. Rinne's charm is a prayer for the success of the stage play.
Konno Taiki:
The selfie project in ISLAND TV is difficult. Every time the day I'm in charged gets closer, I become desperate. I already ran out of idea during the 2nd time we did it LOL. I want to take applications of the poses that the fans want us to do!
Yabana Rei:
When I met Tatsumi (Yudai)-kun by chance last January, he gave me a New Year's money. I was moved at how kind senpai he is. Someday, I also want to give New Year's money to my juniors and be respected LOL.
Sasaki Taiko:
I finally purchased a drum set. Since I do not know which one to buy, so the drummer who I am acquainted with and I admire came with me to the store. I am really thankful that he recommended me the items that match with my style of beating the drums!
Nakamura Reia:
I watched at home the movie「The Letters」where Yamada Takayuki-san is starring. I am glad that the story is very deep, and more than anything else, Yamada-san being immersed in his acting is so great that I was drawn into [the movie] the whole time!
Motodaka Katsuki:
I went fishing for the first time with my brother who is 4 years younger than me. My brother caught a large number of fishes that I can't imagine that it was his first time. The total amount of catch we had that day was 77 horse mackerels! It was so delicious when I made it into namerou (finely chopped fish with miso paste) that it disappeared in no time.
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A/n: DJJDNFM SECRET SANTA FIC PART 1 NSFW PART WILL COME LATER SINCE TUMBLR WONT LET ME FO THE KEEP READING THING- @bnhabadass I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS KSKFMFMF
I'm Better
Bakugou X reader X Todoroki
Warnings: slight cussing, makeout sesh?
“Hey, how do I look?”
The scarlet halter dress flowed gently behind you, red lace enunciating your figure beautifully. A crimson satin bow tied around your waist to draw some curves, paired with gold ear cuffs and white flats with a bit of a wedge, just to keep your posture straight. Your auburn dyed hair was done up with a cute holly scrunchie, matching with the golden holly bracelet you had gotten while impulse buying online. The only formal winter wear you had was a leather jacket though, so you just had to hope it would go well with everything.
Toru’s jaw dropped at the sight of you, not that you could see though.
“Noraaaa!!!” She gushed. “You look so prettyyy!!!!”
You laugh, smiling at her. “Thanks, you too. Now let’s go before Mina uses all her credit to give me missed calls.”
It was a frosty Christmas eve. The snowflakes were floating down, leaving a white carpet in its wake. It had been a while since you all graduated and went your separate ways. The girls did meet up every once and a while, but with all of you being pro-heroes, that once in a while slowly became once in a blue moon. You never really kept up with lots of the boys, exceptions being Sero as you both worked in the same hero company. Basically, you had all grown distant in person. You all talked in a group-chat though, and through that, someone suggested that you’d all meet up for Christmas. Cue Momo sending her address, Sato saying he’d bake, cheers from all students and Mineta quietly rejoicing from the thought of getting kissed by the girls under the mistletoe.
And so here you were, standing outside Momo’s mansion of a home. The lights were leaving you awe-struck and unable to move due to your nostalgic whiplash.
Also due to the fact that it was literally three degrees celsius outside and your feet were probably frozen to the ground.
Once you did get inside though, your jaw hung at the subtle, yet tasteful decorations inside her house. Holly was hung literally everywhere, and you had to make sure you weren’t standing underneath one or that Mineta wasn’t close by if you wanted to survive.
The party was actually quite fun. You were standing idly, talking to Tsuyu until you were suddenly tugged by the invisible force that is Toru.
“Wh-“
“They’re playing seven minutes in heaven!! C’mon!!”
You were led towards a misshapen circle, consisting of the bakusquad, parts of the dekusquad, Jiro, Momo and Ojiro, who was just spectating. Mineta had, thankfully, passed out from drinking too much eggnog. The rest of the class were more content playing cards someplace else or chatting than to contend in such childish games. You shrugged. You had just been drinking and chatting the whole night, some games and laughing would be fun right?
Well you weren’t wrong…
“Step up, step up!” Mina called, pink hair bouncing in excitement. “All of you playing seven minutes in heaven, put in a little something something for the boys to pick!”
As soon as she said that, she produced a cute satin number from behind her back, twirling it around her finger with a wink. Your cheeks warmed almost immediately. Ooookay, maybe not what you had in mind with fun, but with alcohol in your system, decent decisions were thrown out the window. You followed the rest of the girls to the bathroom so you could all deposit your undergarments into the cloth bag. Mina grinned.
“Thank you!~”
She then shook the bag vigorously, mixing the content inside like she was making a martini for James Bond himself. Once she was done, she opened the bag and mixed it around manually, just to make sure.
“Alright boys, take your pick!”
Bmp bmp, bmp bmp, bmp bmp, bmp bmp.
Your heart thrashed against your ribcage as you watched the boys plunge sightlessly for a lucky dip.
“Right, shall we go clockwise?”
… Guess it wasn’t such a bright idea to sit at the edge.
“Nora!~ Which of these lucky boys has got yours?” Mina asked with a tipsy giggle. You got up, looking at the boys who had the panties in their hands. When you found yours, you sucked a quick breath between your teeth, eyes slowly locking with the vermillion ones that stared you down. You could feel everyone’s gaze on you as you pointed at Bakugou. Oohs and whistles erupted from both sides as Mina grabbed the both of you by the collar.
“Alright lovebirds, into the closet you go!”
Before you could even react, the doors were closed behind you, muffling the chatter from the group. The closet was dark, you could hardly see your own nose, let alone see Bakugou. You were glad though, it meant he wouldn’t see your beetroot excuse of a face.
“You gonna make a move or what, slowpoke?”
His grunt made you blink out of your daze. Your next words tumbled out of your mouth pretty quickly, without really thinking.
“You actually want do this properly?”
He was silent, then he laughed, a barking laugh that only made you fear for your life more.
“I’m no wuss. Plus, I made a bet, and I’m not willing to lose it.”
You were about to ask what bet this was, but he had pushed you against the closet wall with a thud.
“This’ll be your best kiss yet.” You could faintly see him smirk in the pitch-black darkness. “So savour it, stretchy.”
With that, he smashed his lips onto yours, hot, silky tongues curling together like a messy tango. His hands roamed your figure, leaving you to writhe and whine under his touch.
“Kat… Suki…” You pant as he moves from your lips down to your neck, biting harshly, then soothing it with a couple licks and open kisses. His treatment was intoxicating, it took you everything not to just crumble under his touch. You run your fingers through his hair and grip tightly as he snakes his hands down your inner thigh…
“Time’s up guys!! Come on out!”
The door opened, bright light blinding you. The marks on your neck were as clear as day. Bakugou walked calmly back to his spot. You, on the other hand, were flushed. Face stained red, you sat back down, hiding your face in your hands.
“Wow… He really went for it, huh Nora?” Toru said as she examined the marks curiously. The statement only made your face grow redder.
“Hey stretchy,"
You look up from your embarrassment to be hit in the face by your panties. If you could feel anymore humiliated now, you’d probably just stay red forever.
The rest of the pairs made you calm down and laugh again though, joining in with the oohs and aahs, watching everyone come out of the closet all scruffy and roughed up. Mina waved the bag around again, eyes twinkling.
“Who’s up for another round?”
You were about to get up and just spectate, but Toru raised your hand for you.
“Hey!-“
“Come on Nora!! One more round!” She pleaded. “You probably won’t get Bakugou again, so it won’t be that embarrassing, right?”
You hesitate, then sigh, back hitting the couch wearily. Toru cheers, hugging you tightly while Mina announces the next round.
“Alright!!” She shakes the bag again. “Boys, it’s your turn to put in something for us girls to pick!”
Cue the boys putting in their boxers for Mina to mix up in the bag. The girls carefully felt around whilst you just kinda took one out. It was a Calvin Klein branded boxer, in simple black and white. You wondered whose it was, but you figured it was probably Denki’s or something. It was… Big though. Lewd thoughts scattered through your mind as you shook your head. There was no need for those thoughts! Not like you were gonna get laid anyway. You watched the pairs go in and out, the closet seeing much better days than this.
“Shouto, you’re up!” Mina was pretty much a firecracker at this point, hyper and bounding like an energetic puppy.
The bi-coloured male got up, walking towards the girls to find his boxers. He stopped dead at your figure, glancing at the undergarment in your hand. He didn’t seem miffed about that though.
“Nora, huh? Luckyyy!!” Mina shoved you once again into the darkness. “Don’t have too much fun you two!”
The pitch-black darkness encased you again, but you were already accustomed to the feeling, having done it once. You bit your lip, guess you had to do something, right? You felt a hand beneath your chin, tilting it up.
“I hope you can forgive me Nora.” His deep voice sending tingles down your spine. “I’m not too experienced when it comes to romance.”
His lips press gently against yours, stealing all the breath in your lungs. His touch was soft, unlike Bakugou's. He let his hands wander down to your ass, squeezing it softly and making you gasp. His hands were cold, making you shiver into his touch while your whole body felt hot and flustered. His swollen lips then suckled your neck, making you hold onto him firmly for support.
“Shouto, fuck…”
Your core was pulsing dully, arousal pooling at your legs. Almost too soon, the light shone upon the both of you as Mina opened the doors.
“Seven minutes are up guys!”
… Inexperienced your ass.
You sat back down, warm and bothered. You were not going to be able to concentrate or talk properly for the rest of the night, that was sure. The rest of the party went pretty good nonetheless, laughter and cheer prominent. You were enjoying your umpeenteenth glass of eggnog by yourself to cool down when you were suddenly grabbed by the arm.
“Don’t ask. Just follow.”
You gulped the remaining eggnog in your mouth while following Bakugou to a room far away from the other patrons of the party. It made you feel hot again, but you were more terrified than anything.
He led you in, locking the door behind him. Shouto was sitting on the bed, watching the two of you from since you walked in. The two stare at you.
“So, who’s better?”
…
…
…
… What?
“I’m sorry, come again?” You say, wondering if maybe you were just so drunk you couldn’t hear right.
“Who’s better?”
“At what?”
“Don’t play dumb stretchy.”
You blink. “I have literally no idea what you guys are talking about.”
Shouto pressed his lips together to try and suppress his laughter at how angry Bakugou was getting. “Yaoyorozu told us you liked the both of us in high school, so we decided to bet on who you’d like better.”
It took you a moment, then you felt your ears burn with shame. “A-ah… That.”
“So,” Shouto got up from his position and stood in front of you. He had grown taller since your first year together, towering over your figure, “who did you like best?”
Your mouth was dry, unable to speak.
Bakugou tsked. “Obviously it’s me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Quit whining Half’n’half, just accept you lost.”
“When it’s so clear that I’ve won? Please.”
The two bickered as you softly mumble an answer. They stopped as soon as you spoke, looking at you.
“What did you say?”
“I… Can’t choose.” You screw your eyes shut. “I dunno, you were both good? A tie?”
The silence that hovered over the three of you was heavy. The air was so thick with tension that if you had a knife, you were certain that you could essentially cut out a piece of the air if you wanted to. After a few minutes passed, Shouto looked over to Bakugou, lips curling.
“Rematch?”
“It’s on.”
You gulp.
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Some bad porn can turn out to be good (1/3)
Summary: “Why are you watching porn on broad daylight and…is this…is this a blond guy fucking a japanese man?”
Who would have thought that porn watching could have such enlightening results. NaruSasu, blow job, anal sex, mutual pining without angst, Comedy, Romance, AU working in an advertisement agency. Some InoSaku.
AO3 link | ffnet link
--.--
Naruto was bored.
He already finished his very nutritional cup of ramen (it’s vegetable flavored, so it had all the necessary components for a complete meal right), played all the games he had in his smartphone and he still had more or less half an hour to kill. His friends were still busy with their work, the food court was completely empty and he wasn’t in the mood for a quick nap.
Wrinkling his nose, Naruto flipped his phone over and over, before letting it rest on the table, groaning. He was so bored. He already refreshed instagram like...thousand times and there wasn’t anything new. Same thing with facebook and twitter.
He took a long glance to the left, and then to the right. Moving to a table that was more or less placed at the corner of the room, he adjusted himself on his seat. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to relieve some tension caused by yesterday’s dream. After wasting long minutes browsing to fit exactly with his particular criteria, he widened his legs and clicked play.
⏤.⏤
Sighing, Sasuke rubbed his eyes while he sent his e-mail. Finally, after struggling for hours he came up with a good slogan title, also wrote some short texts to be used on smaller pieces. He was famished and his take out meal was getting colder by the minute. Glancing at the clock, he went to the food court with bag in hand, glad that it was usually deserted in that hour.
He noticed in an instant the bright golden hair from afar and his steps veered in that direction, ready for a greeting. However, as he was approaching Naruto, he saw those blue eyes very focused on whatever thing was displayed on the smartphone, probably some video of some sort.
Usually in this case Sasuke would just give a quick acknowledgement, then he would eat in another table. While he was circling around to pat Naruto’s shoulder though, his eyes picked some suspicious rhythmical movement from the video. This dumbass couldn’t possibly...glaring, Sasuke grunted.
“Hey.”
“HOLY FU⏤” Naruto shrieked, jumping from his seat. He almost fell from his chair, turning around, gawking in disbelief. “What the fuck man, don’t scare me like that!”
Sasuke snorted, now that the smartphone dropped to the table, he could properly peruse the content inside it. “I can’t believe that you’re watching porn right now.”
“I-I⏤!” Naruto scrambled to pick his gadget, resisting the urge to flip the screen down. He raised his chin in defiance, grumbling. “I was bored.”
“You’re watching porn while on work.” There was no way he was mistaken what he was witnessing, with the top plunging the monstrous cock in the bottom’s round ass, and the well-rehearsed moans and grunts coming from those porn actors.
“Not at work!” Naruto defended himself, in earnest. “It’s my lunch time, and in this moment I can relax and take some time for myself.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Sasuke muttered, stomach making pleasant flips when he realized that Naruto was watching intercourse between two men . At last, all his queries concerning the blond’s sexuality were now answered. With some positive and unexpected addendums, as he perused the video closer. “Honestly, why are you watching porn on broad daylight and…is this…is this a blond guy fucking a japanese man?”
Sasuke was actually mildly impressed how Naruto managed to keep a poker face, despite blushing from head to toe. “Hey, it’s a free country you know. I can watch whatever the fuck I want.”
“...hn.” Interesting how that dumbass didn’t answer his question. Shifting, he placed one hand on the back of Naruto’s seat, whispering close to his ear. “I can’t believe that there are really people out there who would have watched porn on lunch time, this is a first for me.”
Naruto glowered back, raising his elbow to widen their gap as he stood up. “Yeah well, I have done nothing criminal, bastard. ‘Kay, lunchtime is over, gotta go.”
Sasuke huffed, cursing himself for this momentary lack of quick thinking to avoid such misunderstanding. Next time, instead of teasing Naruto, he should have offered himself to reenact that porn video.
⏤.⏤
From the moment Naruto stepped in their ad agency, as corny as it might sound, Sasuke was smitten. Friendly, warm, an easygoing personality fitting with his wide grin and lively eyes.
His first impression towards other coworkers was vastly different though. Tall with a built physique, he had a undercut hair with earlobe expanders, leather bracelets, wearing a fitting black t-shirt that had a huge neon-orange skull drawing on it, complemented with a low cut shorts and a black belt adorned with small metal spikes. Everything about him screamed ‘Punk’, adding with fact that he had a gigantic japanese 9-tailed fox tattoo that started from his neck and covered his entire right arm, some piercings on his face and one barbell on the middle of his tongue (yes, Sasuke already pictured the tongue wrapping around his length). Naruto was quite an intimidating figure to say the least.
However, after just mere days working with him, people were quick to realize that his bright behavior really didn’t match to their preconceptions. He wasn’t one that shouted anarchy and burned books, but was rather the homey type that your mother would love to have him on Sunday lunches.
Once such knowledge sank in, a good number of suitors popped up from all spectrum of genders, much to Sasuke’s annoyance. There was a full-on investigation with some previous coworkers he used to work with, gossiping with friends and snooping around. There were many questions rather he was straight, or gay, maybe bi, all with inconclusive results.
Some rumors said that he was dating some woman who used to have a crush on him since forever, only to break up once he realized that he couldn’t really reciprocate her. Others said that he dated some childhood male friend for a very long time until it became lukewarm and they broke up in amicable terms. Whatever it was, he recently came out from a long relationship and wanted to take a break for now.
Sasuke could understand this, logically, comprehend even, and respected Naruto’s decision to cool down for a while. But as time kept passing by with soiled sheets, longing gazes, small crush turning into a Romance Angst 30 multi-chapter pining fanfiction, Sasuke concluded that, well, maybe it’s time to help Naruto moving on. Yes, turn a new page in his life, refresh, take a new path that it better have him included in this, hopefully as his new steady boyfriend in hand.
It’d be so much easier if Sasuke was only physically attracted to Naruto, not form any kind of attachment whatsoever. However, as he kept spending more time with this blond dumbass, he was getting increasingly enamoured with Naruto’s various facets. His genuine smiles even after he faced many adversities, his unyielding determination, his optimistic way of looking at life, everything.
And whenever he’d notice blue eyes clouded in contemplation, Sasuke really wanted to reach Naruto out and tell him that it’s ok to reveal the darkness in his heart.
Once Sasuke came to term with his feelings towards Naruto, it appeared he only had this simple task of asking him out, right. Well…the biggest problem was that Naruto was the densest idiot that had ever graced in his life. People could practically throw themselves on his lap and he’d wonder if they were having a heart attack or something. Sasuke himself had his own fair share of failed attempts of flirting with no significant results, that blond moron only thought that his teasing was out of friendly competition, nothing more.
Almost a whole fucking year have passed, frustration amounting in each day. For someone who was really talkative, Naruto kept his personal life pretty much in private. And even if he’s really expressive, Sasuke had a hard time reading if Naruto was into him.
In a last desperate resort, Sasuke tried to use their company’s annual party to get some answers, any answer. Whether Naruto was into guys, or he’s just a straight blond dumbass, or he had anyone he might fancy, hopefully Sasuke would gear this situation to more fruitful results.
Company parties brew all kinds of miracles and chaos, uncovering burrowed secrets, with many twists and turns that provided enough gossip material for a month. It loosens up any uptight person into the biggest diva in those party. It even revealed many facets of a person, as Sasuke could never forget how Sakura ended up making out with her supposed “best friend” Ino, occupying the bathroom for long, long hours, only to return both disheveled and flushed. (they began dating from that day onward) This was a good opportunity to get closer to Naruto while they both get drunk as skunk.
Unfortunately for him, Naruto, who was forever the 100% boy scout, promised the ladies to drive them safely to their respective homes, not drinking one drop of alcohol while everyone around him was getting smashed. Honestly, why couldn’t they ask for an uber or something; Sasuke wondered while he brooded between sips of sake.
At last, seeing Naruto watching gay porn, it seems that the gods had finally answered his prayers. Now that he cooled down, he needed to recalculate that Naruto might only be into Japanese guys, not him specifically. That doesn’t matter anyways. Naruto was attracted to men so all is fair game now. He just had to act faster before anyone else noticed about this too.
⏤.⏤
Slamming the door stall, Naruto sat on the toilet seat, messing with his hair.
Oh God, he’s so screwed, he’s so fucking doomed. He really shouldn’t have watched that porn video. There’s no way Sasuke wouldn’t grasp everything together and he’s really scared what would happen next.
Honestly, he wasn’t supposed to feel this attracted to Sasuke. Even though they work in the same sector, they were part of different teams, taking care of different clients and would only meet whenever everyone would go out to eat lunch or go to a bar after work, with some occasional short talk if they stumble on each other through the corridors.
In these pockets of interaction, Naruto was becoming increasingly fascinated towards Sasuke. Extremely smart, quick with sharp snarks and sarcastic humor, Sasuke might look unapproachable for most people, but he cast such alluring spell to Naruto. They could spend hours talking about any subject, from the existential questions to the most inane things happening in their lives. They had many points of view in common, also respecting their differing opinions even if they engaged in a healthy debate now and then.
And, well, like every art director, he was all into pleasant aesthetics and Sasuke was definitely included high in this list. Piercing dark eyes, smooth alabaster skin accentuating his high cheekbones, his face was perfect in all symmetrical proportions, body chiseled out like the finest Golden Ratio there is. (forgive Naruto for the momentary show of nerdism) He always stood out with his stylish clothes, posture lax but in a very cool way, with his hands in his pockets and chin slightly raised giving out a sophisticated aura.
It’s been a while since he was in the dating department, so admittedly Naruto wouldn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to approach him. Plus, he made up his mind that he shouldn’t try anyways, to benefit of them all.
The thing was…Naruto always thought that Sasuke was kind of out of his league, you know? He was way too attractive, too cultured with a high intellect that was too much for a regular dude like him. Shikamaru rolled his eyes, insisting that Naruto should at least test it out since the UST between those two were going off the roof but the blond man remained resolute.
…he heard stories. About how Sasuke never engaged in any serious relationship, settled only with casuals and one-night stands. So considering that Naruto was becoming more and more attached to him, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to accept only getting physical aspect of this.
The solution then? Denial denial denial. Yeah, forget how much he enjoyed having Sasuke around, how it seemed that time stopped around them, and yet it would fly by in an instant. Forget about all the countless times he yearned to touch Sasuke’s face, feel the soft touch of his lips.
His sketchbook was getting filled with drawings of Sasuke and it’s really not his damn fault that this bastard was this photogenic, he also couldn’t explain the urge to be next to that brooding man, just so Sasuke would feel less lonely. But when he saw much to his utmost terror that he was now adding himself into these sketches, doodling him kissing Sasuke or some tender cuddling, Naruto realized that maybe he didn’t do a good job keeping his feelings at bay. His little crush was turning a little too intense to his own taste and he’s honest to God hoping he’s not becoming too creepy. Better burn those doodles to a crisp and draw harmless things like flowers or whatever.
But now, all his efforts he had done to suppress himself had evaporated with his slip. Most positive scenario was Sasuke not connecting the glaring points (very unlikely, since that damn bastard is a genius) and only teasing him from time to time. Worst scenario would be Sasuke actively pursuing him and Naruto wouldn’t know if he’d be able to resist him and then have his heart broken by the end of it all. He better get ready with whatever situation it might hold in the future.
Days had passed nevertheless and nothing happened. A week went through and there was no reaction coming from Sasuke. Naruto didn’t know if he needed to get more paranoid because if Sasuke was silent, he’s plotting. He witnessed first hand how shrewd that man could get, changing various clients’ mind to accept their envisioned marketing campaigns and he really wasn’t looking forward to be the next victim.
Interaction was inevitable considering they work in the same room, but they were plenty busy juggling with their tasks to properly chat on that week. This was enough to make Naruto relax for a bit, taking a quick break as he went outside for a snack.
“I don’t think he needs a bun. He’s fine with sausage by itself.”
“WHAT THE FU⏤” Naruto swiveled around once he heard the familiar baritone voice, as the street vendor winced from his loud scream. “Fuck man! Why do you have to creep on me from behind all the time?!”
“It’s really not my fault when you’re such a airheaded blond.” Sasuke muttered, while he asked for a cup of coffee.
When Naruto accepted his grilled sausage, he scowled. “Hey, and since when you can order food that was supposed to be mine?”
“I’m just speeding up the process so I can get my own coffee soon, and ordered based on previous assumptions that you like big thick sausages. Or am I wrong in such assessment?”
Sasuke didn’t miss how the bewildered face turned crimson red once Naruto caught the innuendo. Naruto grabbed his arm, hissing. “About that last time, I swear to God if you spread this around I⏤”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Sasuke answered monotonously.
Naruto loosened the tight grip around his arm. “Uh⏤really?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about it.” Sasuke turned around, sipping his coffee. On the corner of his vision, he saw Naruto’s shoulders sagging in relief, walking behind him as they went back to the office.
He made sure he memorized for later use when Naruto absentmindedly thrust the sausage in his mouth.
“Hm. At least I finally figured out how you’re able to swallow copious amount of food without gagging.”
Naruto coughed and choked in response. “God, you’re such a bastard.” He narrowed his eyes ready for a venomous glare but stopped at once when Sasuke curled an amused smirk. Geez, why did Sasuke had such an attractive smile, and whyyyy was his heart racing like a silly highschool girl? This is so fucking stupid.
While Naruto was having his internal battle, Sasuke was inwardly patting himself on the back for another mission accomplished. If this situation followed through smoothly according to his strategic plans, he’ll have passionate sex with Naruto by the end of this month, for sure.
--.--
AN: This story was supposed to be a pure PWP but then I was like "wait, I need to give a good reason for those two to boink" and this monster of a fic happened. Lord help me. (but still, I'd really enjoy if you guys will leave a review)
Chapter 2
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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.”
#btswriters#kkreationsnet#hoseok#jhope#jung hoseok#hoseok smut#hoseok angst#hoseok fluff#jhope smut#jhope angst#jhope fluff#jhope scenario#hoseok scenario#hoseok scenarios#jhope scenarios#bts scenario#bts scenarios#jhope x you#jhope x reader#hoseok x you#hoseok x reader#hoseok au#jhope au#bts fanfic#jhope fanfic#hoseok fanfic#bts jhope#bts x you#bts x reader#my work
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MysMe prompt RFA + V & Saeran. The wedding of MC and random LI, meeting MCs friend who is super cute. (So RFA+V&Saeran meeting an OC at a wedding) Love you!
I love you too.Okay.
Yoosung- it’s MCs younger sister.- she’s a little comic book nerd- glasses- MC pulled the same prank Seven did re: chocolate milk on Yoosung, but on her.- He and she spend the night gossiping about the pranks MC pulled on her and Seven has pulled on him. - She mentions how MC told her that Yoosung plays LOLOL too. - So she created an account.- OMG that’s you who’s the loot thief!- They swap numbers at the end of the night.- Over the next month they troll each other through LOLOL, stealing each others kills.- They go for coffee and a movie and it progresses from there.
Jaehee- MCs best friend from college.- She was bridesmaid with MCs sister.- They’re sitting at the bar, ordering wine.- “I hate my boss. I do three times the work of everyone else and get nothing to show for it.”- They bond over it.- “So what do you do?”- She’s a sous chef at Fancy Cake shop. - OMG, I love the pistachio eclairs there.- “I wake up at 5am every day to make those, at least someone appreciates them.”- Jaehee pops into Fancy Cake every time she can to order coffee and these pistachio eclairs. - She catches her one time and they swap numbers after reminiscing about the wedding.- Jaehee tells her one day “I want to quit my job, open up a coffee shop.”- She says that should Jaehee do it, she’d gladly leave her job and make cakes for her.- A few months later, she texts Jaehee. - “Were you just daydreaming about that coffee shop?”- “No. Why?”- “My uncle died. Don’t be sad, he wasn’t that great. But he did leave me some money. Lets do it!”- They open a coffee shop together, little almond croissants, pistachio eclairs, blueberry muffins. - Jaehee is so excited, it’s hard work.- One night, cleaning up, she says “I think this is the best wedding I ever went to.”- Jaehee laughs, knowing exactly how good it was that they met. “How would you make it better?”- “I’d tell this cute girl I met there how I feel.”
Zen- He popped outside for a cigarette, it was very noisy and they were playing a trashy song that was all lovey-dovey. It made him angsty over not having someone to love!- Oh, hey, you were the singer from the reception right?- She blushes. “I’m not supposed to be smoking. Bad for the voice.”- You were better than this crap that’s on now.- She blushed again! Zen laughs softly.- “I need to get going. Do you have any gum? My bf will be pissed if he notices the smoke smell.”- “Just my luck. Fresh out. I’ll walk with you to the local shop to pick some up.” SAD ZEN!- They exchange numbers, Zen mentions that an understudy role in this play he’s doing keeps on dropping out. And she’s good at singing, audition for it!- They keep in contact, she gets the part but isn’t needed because the actress isn’t sick or injured. - “Zen… Can I come over?”- He’s all concerned, they meet at Fancy Cake and “My bf split with me. He found my cigarette stash. I should just quit and apologise to him.”- “Well he doesn’t really love you for you if that’s why he split.” Zen is lowkey cheering in his head.- Oh, did I tell you? I got the part in This Romantic Play!- Fast forward and Zen gets a late audition for this low-budget play, obviously landing the part of Male Love Interest.- They’re at rehearsals and “I thought you got the part?” - “I did. I got the part as Best Friend of Male Love Interest!”- After rehearsals he’s like “I got the part because I thought you’d be opposite me… Because you’re a great singer ofc!”- She kisses his cheek. “That’s very sweet of you.”
Seven - he’s canonically bi! :P- He’s MCs roommate from before RFA days.- While MC was locked in Rikas apartment and hadn’t text him (or come home) for three days he’s panicking.- So he was furiously trying to find her by using a remote tracking app that they both had on their phones. (HC - they’re worried about each other after MC once got mugged on the subway)- Ofc Seven intercepted that and told him not to worry. She’s fine.- They’d been spamming each other with memes ever since.- But this is the first time they’ve actually met.- He’s so tall, and is that a beard? Seven never imagined him with a beard. Let alone one that’s dyed green (it matches his hair though).- They chat pretty much all night long, nobody understands the constant memes.- They start drinking at one point. And Seven lowkey admits to his depression.- He wraps his arms around Seven and pulls up his sleeve, revealing a long row of silvery scars. Seven traces them.- That kind of tickles Seven.- Neither of them thought that depression could bring people together.- Rather than worrying about MC from then on (She did just get married), he worries about Seven.- Seven is round MCs old apartment, being cooked for and they joke about how he looks after Seven like a husband.- He jokes back that he’s not his husband yet.- Seven loves that. Yet.
Jumin- MC tasked Jumin with making sure her cousin doesn’t mess things up.- He’s expecting this demanding little brat.- But she’s not. She’s just very exact in what she likes. How is it a crime to like having your food cooked properly?- Or to spend a bit of time on the phone? (She was making sure her PA didn’t mess up in her absence)- MC never said her cousin owned the family business.- He assumed she worked for them. And it was MCs dad or grandfather, or uncle who owned it. (Which he realised is pretty sexist but it was only a thought, he didn’t say it out loud)- He finds her positively delightful, if he’s honest.- MC! Why didn’t you invite her to the RFA party?- “Oh MC thinks I’m too highly strung. I’d love to come to the next one!”- MC is really glad they get on so well. She gets annoyed at her cousin for the same reasons she gets annoyed at Jumin - for treating employees like crap and being little trust fund kids.- At the end of the night, she has to get to the airport, fly back home.- Of course Driver Kim can drive her and he’d be remiss not to accompany her.- That’s MC’s family name on the plane. How did he not know about this?- “She’s too embarrassed to use the family money. But if you’re earning it, why not use it?”- They keep in contact, Jumin does really well making business ties with her, he’s lowkey annoyed MC didn’t introduce her sooner or invite her to the party.- She has a dog! No! On her social media there’s this Chihuahua in her handbag!- When she flies in for a business meeting with him and his father, her Chihuahua and Elizabeth III get put in the same room! He’s super angry, how dare they. He’s going to find out who botched this up!- She’s angry too! If that cat has scratched her precious!- But they’re cuddled up together on a chair together. They laugh and go out for coffee. Jumin is relieved and admits that he thinks she’s very cute, and was worried about her dog.- She admits the same and her worry about Elizabeth III. She’s not generally a cat person but Elizabeth III is sweet.
And I tried writing V and Saeran but they weren’t too great. Sorry!
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In My Way - Chapter 18
AO3 link, First Chapter
Genre: Chaptered. Actor!Dan AU, fluff, bit of angst, slow burn, getting together (eventually)
Summary: Fiction. Daniel Howell is 21 and Britain’s newest star. He’s just been cast in the much-anticipated film adaption of Last Man Standing, the popular teen fantasy novel with a huge fanbase hanging off his every tweet. In other words, Dan has made it big.
Phil Lester couldn’t care less. He’s a stressed out PHD student working part time at a bookshop while he struggles to get into post-production. He’s 26 and still lives in a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a building with a lift more broken than it is in use. He loves books, but he thinks big film adaptions screw with the plot too much.
Needless to say, Phil is less than impressed when Last Man Standing is getting filmed in his hometown. And he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with obnoxious, arrogant, so irritatingly perfect leading actor Daniel Howell.
Warnings: Swearing, Ace!Phil, Bi!Dan, slight a- and bi-phobia, discussions of sexuality
Word Count: 3000-5000 per chapter (ish)
A/N: Once again, sorry for the delay in this chapter! I’m just gonna say this once: I have M.E., a medical condition that effects my energy levels and gives me chronic pain and nasty things. Sometimes it affects my ability to write, which is why updates can be slow. But good news: I know this fic is going to be 25 chapters long, and I have them all planned exactly. I’ll update as regularly as I can ^_^
Again, giant thanks to my beta @mecaka! This is only possible because of her hard work. Go send her love if you’ve got time because honestly, she is the best thing that could have happened to me with this fic
—
Two months, it turned out, was the length of time left on the film set.
“Well, actually, it’s closer to a month and a half,” Dan elaborated from his place sprawled across Phil’s lap, eyes narrowed as he tore around another corner in Mario Kart. “And did you have to bring this up now?”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you about it all day,” Phil grumbled gruffly. Which, in his defence, was true. Ever since the call with Tyler last week, Phil had been working up his courage to bring the subject up with Dan, and this morning he had finally done it only for Dan to distract him by dragging him out to the sofa to challenge him to a duel.
Which Dan was going to win, because this was Mario Kart and Dan was insanely competitive.
“So after the set,” Phil started again, barely even focusing on the screen and much more occupied with the warm person lying across his lap, “Are you, um, are you going away?”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Away where?”
Away from me, Phil thought, half-heartedly firing a shell. It went backward, straight off the course, completely missing Dan’s little figure that was racing far ahead.
“There,” Dan said satisfactorily as he crossed the finishing line, then paused the game and rolled onto his back. He narrowed his eyes at Phil. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing’s up with me,” Phil answered immediately. Perhaps not the best method for improving communication, or generally getting anywhere with Dan, but denial was still and would probably always be Phil’s first defence mechanism.
Thankfully, Dan had been around Phil for long enough now to recognise this, so he wasn’t dissuaded at all. Instead, he sat up, tossing his controller carelessly onto the cushion beside him, and fixed Phil with a stern look. “So something is definitely up.”
“It isn’t,” Phil insisted unhelpfully.
Dan had one brow arched at him in a perfect expression of disbelief. Practised many times for several film roles, probably, and now Phil was being subjected to it in all its realness.
“If nothing’s up,” Dan said calmly, “Then we can just carry on playing, and you interrupted a perfectly fun round for no good reason.”
“Yes,” Phil replied quickly, then stopped. “Well, no. Um. Maybe.”
“Congratulations on giving every possible answer.” Dan rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile at his lips. He flopped himself back down over Phil’s lap, arranging himself to be perfectly comfortable so he could still see the screen, and grabbed the controller again, starting up a solo level. Phil’s eyes traced Dan’s character, and he felt his heartbeat calm down a little. Watching Dan do things always calmed him down – there was a level of professional confidence about everything Dan did, as if he’d thought every action through at least four times. It was… reassuring. Especially when every aspect of Phil’s life was currently being made up as he went along.
“So you asked if I’m going away,” Dan said evenly after a few moments of silent playing.
Phil swallowed.
“I’m guessing you don’t mean leaving the country, or, like, dying,” Dan continued, and was that a hint of laughter hiding away in his tone? “But you still brought it up, so something must be on your mind.”
“Yeah,” Phil answered softly without thinking. His fingers had somehow found their way into Dan’s hair. It was comforting to have the knowledge that Dan was still right there. For now.
“So what is it?” Dan asked again after another moment of watching his character easily cruise the level. Dan really was insanely good at Mario Kart. How did he even have time to practice as an actor?
Phil gave his head a small shake. He shuffled around a bit, until Dan made a noise of complaint, and then went very still with his fingers still curled in Dan’s hair.
Phil just didn’t want to lose this.
“I suppose,” he started slowly, “I mean what your roommate said in the call.”
“Tyler?” Dan sounded surprised. He had no idea at all, then.
Phil gathered his courage and said, “Yeah. When he said he was getting you back. That means… that means you’re leaving me, right?”
The words sat heavily. Phil winced as soon as he realised their full meaning. He hadn’t meant it quite like that, but… but therein lay his fears, really.
Dan squawked. He dropped the controller, not even bothering to pause the level this time, and rolled around to face Phil just as his character made a squealing noise as it fell off the course.
“What?” Dan asked, staring at Phil, a picture of surprised disbelief.
Phil shifted awkwardly. “Tyler said he’d be getting you back.”
“Yeah!” Dan narrowed his eyes. “And you think that means I’m leaving you?”
Phil bit his lip. He considered for a moment. “Um. Well. Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Leaving… me.”
“No!” Dan sat up properly then, giving Phil the full extent of his glare. “Why? Do you want me to?”
“No, not at al! I just—” Phil paused, realising he’d done an extremely bad job of explaining himself. He deflated in place a little. “I just – don’t understand.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Dan answered after a moment of silence. He shook his head, sitting back a little on Phil’s sofa cushions so he could draw his knees into his chest. Defensive, Phil realised. He’d made Dan go all defensive again.
Desperately, Phil tried to salvage the conversation and make it go back in the direction he’d originally intended. “What I’m trying – very badly – to say is, you aren’t staying here forever. In Manchester, I mean. Are you?”
Dan blinked. Slowly, comprehension started to show on his face, and Phil thanked every lucky star he’d ever wished on for it. But there was also fear tugging at Phil’s stomach, because he’d brought this up now. They were going to have this conversation, to face the issue that had been itching at him all week.
“No,” Dan answered slowly, his tone cautious, his eyes fixed on Phil’s face. “No, I’m not staying in Manchester forever.”
Phil’s heart plummeted.
“But you knew that, right?” Dan added, leaning in a little bit closer. “I’m only here for the set. That’s over in a couple of months, then I’m going home. You knew that, right?”
Phil swallowed. Dan said home so easily, and he was referring to a place where Phil wasn’t. That shouldn’t hurt, they’d hardly known each other four months, but somehow Phil’s idea of home already had a Dan in it. “And then back to London. And Tyler. Right?”
Dan didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he tilted his head, regarding Phil closely with something warm hiding in his eyes. “I mean, yeah. London is home for me.”
Phil nodded once. He kept his face clear of expression.
After a moment, Dan asked, “Does that bother you?”
Phil shifted, considering the question for a moment. He reached out to grab Dan’s hand, smiled a bit when Dan gave a startled movement that settled into a small smile. He squeezed Phil’s fingers.
“It doesn’t really bother me,” Phil answered slowly. “I mean, it’s your home. Tyler seems nice.”
“He is,” Dan agreed, his gaze still intent on Phil. “My best friend.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you have a best friend.” Phil glanced at Dan, tried not to let jealousy slip into his tone. “How did you meet him?”
“Oh, I met him years ago,” Dan answered with an easy smile and went on to tell Phil that Tyler had met Dan on Dan’s very first set. Dan had been a nervous wreck, unsure of everything around him, and Tyler was his make-up artist. He’d taken one look at Dan’s pasty face and gone Oh no, we can’t have that. Dan at first thought he was being mocked – it turned out Tyler was just very exuberant and exacting in what he wanted.
After that, they’d become fast friends. Tyler was new to England, and so Dan took it upon himself to show him around the main sites. After a year, they’d decided to move in together, and when Dan hesitantly stuttered out that he was maybe attracted to boys as well as to girls, Tyler had embraced him in a warm hug and welcomed him to the party. (Tyler was as gay as a pink elephant, and as exuberant about it as he was about make-up).
“So he knows?” Phil interrupted, surprised.
Dan nodded. “He’s the only other one who does. You and him.”
“Not even your family?” Phil asked without thinking, and then winced. “No, wait, you don’t have to answer that.”
Dan’s eyes had tightened up a bit, but he hadn’t removed his hand from Phil’s. Dan glanced downwards, at where his fingers linked up so easily with Phil’s. “I just – I didn’t want to risk the exposure. You know. If the press ever got wind of it…”
“I get it,” Phil spoke into the silence quickly. “Honestly. That’s not what I meant.”
Dan sent him a tiny, grateful smile.
Phil fidgeted for another minute, then reached out to pull Dan into a hug. Dan muffled a chuckle as he leaned into Phil, speaking into his shoulder, “You can’t solve everything with a hug, Phil.”
“I can try,” Phil said adamantly, and then added, “I just… don’t want you to be gone.”
“I won’t be gone,” Dan murmured, his own arms slotting easily around Phil. “Not really.”
“But London is far away.”
Dan tilted his face up until he was looking right at Phil, and suddenly he was very, very close. “I’m not in London now.”
Phil was frozen, immobile, still taken aback by these moments of intimacy. But he was very sure that was happiness bubbling up inside him, so he leaned closer at Dan’s invitation and kissed him lightly.
Dan smiled, kissed him back, and for a moment everything was perfect. Things like this got easier every time they did them, and Phil was growing in confidence every time, more and more sure that yes, he liked this. As long as it didn’t go too far, and Dan was wonderful and soft and never pushed him.
When Phil pulled back, Dan didn’t complain at all. He didn’t even look insecure, which Phil always worried about because he had a feeling that Dan would kiss for longer if it was up to him. But Phil always started to feel weird after a few minutes, and he was endlessly grateful that Dan never brought it up, but just smiled happily every time Phil pulled away.
Dan was smiling happily at him now, and then he whispered, “You could always come with me.”
Phil blinked. His voice squeaked a bit. “Come with you?”
“To London.” Dan’s eyes were bright, but a bit guarded. He didn’t look away from Phil’s face. “When the set is done with. You could come back to London with me.”
Phil’s eyes widened. He’d never even considered that as a possibility – that Dan might ask him to go with him, that maybe there was a solution that didn’t involve Dan staying in Manchester forever.
Dan couldn’t stay in Manchester. He had a job, and friends. Obviously.
But Phil still felt the tiniest tug of disappointment. Manchester was his home. He’d deliberately moved back here after doing his undergrad in York, because York felt too far away.
It was closer than London, though.
Dan was still looking at him, but that guarded something in his eyes had grown. He was shrinking back a bit, shrinking into himself, behind all those walls that Phil had started to break down.
Phil grabbed for him again. “I want to be with you.”
Dan brightened up again immediately. “So you’ll come?”
“I’ll…” Phil took a breath, bit his lip. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. London is… far away.”
Dan’s eyes had clouded over again. Phil hated that, wished he could banish it away in an instant and have Dan happy and smiling again, but… but he’d learned not to dive straight into scary things. He needed to think, to process.
And they still had time.
“There’s a month and a half left, right?” Phil added almost desperately. “There’s time to… to think. We can figure it out.”
Dan nodded slowly, his gaze clearing a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, we can figure it out.”
Phil smiled back at him, and really, really hoped it was true.
---
A few days later, when Dan was away at the film set and Phil was sitting at home half-heartedly tapping away at his thesis, the idea crossed Phil’s mind again.
Moving to London.
It didn’t seem quite possible when Dan mentioned it. Like a dream, something to be imagined but never to be lived, at least not for someone like Phil. Dan’s world was full of glittering lights and camera flashes and interviews – hell, that was why they never went on proper dates outside. Phil could still remember with a shudder the day a camera had followed Dan back to Phil’s bookshop.
That was Dan’s world, not Phil’s. And if he was honest, Phil wanted no part in it.
Except… except he did want to keep Dan. He really did. To the extent that thinking about Dan going away to London without him had Phil’s chest constricting until his breathing was difficult.
This was crazy. He’d only known Dan a handful of months, and the majority of that had been spent trying to avoid him. Phil had hated Dan when they’d first met, he was sure of it – he remembered that arrogant smirk, the way Dan had looked down on him.
Knowing Dan as he did now, Phil could see that had been because Dan had believed Phil snubbed him deliberately. But he hadn’t. Phil was just a bumbling mess, he always had been, and he probably always would be.
Dan shouldn’t even want him around anyway.
Phil shook away the thought with a sad little frown. He was staring blankly at his thesis document, on its way to finished with a month left to the deadline, and then his course would almost be over. Just another month after that until his official graduation. His mum had already invited everyone over for the celebration – Phil the Doctor, Phil the smart one, he’d always been the brains of the family, she’d proudly say.
But then what?
There’d be a big celebration, and then… then what? Phil had never been one to look at the future too hard, never been one to wallow in worrying. He’d just enjoyed what he did without thinking too much about where it would lead him. But now… now, he was facing a gaping hole with no more education to fill it.
And he didn’t want to face that alone.
So Dan. He had Dan, he wanted to keep Dan, and miraculously Dan wanted to keep him. That had to be worth all the worry, right? All the stress? There had to be something worth holding onto in the feelings he had for Dan, in the feelings Dan had shared with him.
He hadn’t had a text from Dan yet that day. Phil had messaged him in the morning but hadn’t heard anything back. That wasn’t too unusual. The film set was getting busier every day, with the closing deadlines looming. Then everything would be moving down to London.
London, where all the post-production work would be happening. Phil’s speciality. Phil’s favourite aspect.
If only…
Phil chewed on his inner cheek, having a staring contest with his laptop, until he relented and pulled up a new internet tab.
Post-production film jobs in London.
Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of results. Phil trailed through the first few, registering some of the company names, recognising some. There were a lot of internship programmes that he’d be eligible to apply for.
He didn’t have to make any decisions yet. But it was an option.
Just then, his phone buzzed against his desk. Phil snatched it up to see a new tweet from Dan: literally starving at the set @amazingphil where is my coffee
Phil snorted. They were still being publicly open on Twitter, and while they’d never explicitly stated the exact nature of their relationship (Phil still got a fuzzy little feeling whenever he remembered that Dan was his boyfriend), it was a good thing. Having Dan happy with them being public, even in this tiny way – it gave Phil hope.
Hope that this was actually ok.
Definitely a possibility, Phil decided as he glanced at the results on his laptop, and then bookmarked it before answering Dan’s tweet with another public one of his own.
@amazingphil: @danisnotonfire on my way right now
---
The days continued in their easy pattern, but the time was constantly being eaten up. Without even meaning to, Phil found himself subconsciously counting down the days to their deadline, the deadline when Dan would be leaving.
He’d visit the set with coffee for Dan and think, only five more weeks of doing this.
Dan would crash into the bookshop during Phil’s shift and regale him with stories of the day’s filming and Phil, in between fits of laughter, would find himself saying, “Not much longer left, now.”
Dan’s eyes always went cautious. He answered carefully, “No. Not long left.”
Phil tried not to think too much about the way Dan’s eyes lingered on him, as if he was waiting for a response, for something more from Phil. Something more that Phil wasn’t sure he could give.
They’d be curled up together on Phil’s sofa, or cuddled under the blankets on his bed watching Netflix on Phil’s laptop, and Phil would stay silent but the thoughts running around his head were full of not much longer, you don’t get to have this for much longer. He tried to quiet the doubts, knew that Dan moving away was very different to Dan breaking up with him, but it was still hard.
He tightened his grip around Dan and buried his face in Dan’s hair.
Dan made a questioning noise and wriggled a bit, so Phil batted at him until he stayed still. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to face the questions that he knew Dan was going to want to bring up. In all honesty, Phil just didn’t want to face the future. He wanted this present to extend forever, with Dan in his arms and something easy on TV and blankets and cuddles and nothing else more complicated going on.
Why couldn’t he just have that? Phil didn’t think it was too much to ask for.
It was when there were only three weeks left that Phil came home from a shift at the bookshop to find Dan sitting on the sofa on Phil’s laptop.
Phil blinked, and then let out a heavy sigh. Coming home to Dan invading his flat wasn’t exactly unusual, not since Phil had given him a key, but still. There were privacy limits. Weren’t there? Or shouldn’t there be?
Dan grinned at him impishly, and then pulled Phil’s laptop further into his lap. “Mine for now. Sorry.”
Phil rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I guess I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.”
“Probably not,” Dan agreed, already buried back in whatever he was doing. As long as it wasn’t another skype call to Tyler that Phil could embarrass himself in front of, then Phil didn’t really mind. It was an excuse to forget about proof-reading his thesis for a bit, after all.
“Hot chocolate?” Phil offered on his way into the kitchen.
“Mm, please!” Dan called back, and Phil’s smile was widening before he even realised it. Having Dan around just made Phil feel… buoyant. Like there was something under his skin lifting him up, making his feet hardly touch the ground. It didn’t quite feel real, except when he could feel Dan in his arms, breathe in his scent, see the possessions he’d slowly left scattered around Phil’s place. Honestly, Phil didn’t even know the last time Dan had actually spent long periods of time in his hotel room.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Dan said when Phil returned with two steaming mugs. He curled his legs out of the way, making room for Phil to join him, and grabbed eagerly for the mug.
“Don’t spill that on my laptop,” Phil warned him, but otherwise settled in happily. He cast Dan a slightly worried look. “Also, that doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not bad, exactly,” Dan hedged, casting another quick look at Phil. He grimaced. “I just – I saw a car.”
Phil arched a questioning brow.
“A black car,” Dan elaborated, “Um, outside.”
“Wow, amazing, anyone would think we were in a main city.” Phil grinned. Some of Dan’s sarcasm had rubbed off on him.
Dan kicked at him delicately. “No, you idiot. Outside here. Outside your building.”
Phil blinked, taken aback. “…Oh?”
“Yeah. It looked like a journalist to me.” Dan was looking steadfastly at the laptop screen again, not meeting Phil’s eyes. “So, um. They might have seen me, and my guess is they could call you at some point."
Phil’s stomach dropped.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Dan added in what was clearly a carefully researched speech. “You can just refuse to comment if they badger you. And if they do it too much, threaten the police, it’s harassment.”
“The police?” Phil asked a bit faintly.
Dan shot him a look, then bit his lower lip. He shifted a bit closer to Phil. “I did try and warn you this might happen.”
Phil remained silent. That didn’t help very much. Sure, he remembered when Dan was first trying to get closer to him, that Dan warned him what his lifestyle meant – but Phil wasn’t anyone interesting. He hadn’t really given much thought to people bothering him, or what he was supposed to do or say. He was far too awkward for any of it.
And it wouldn’t even matter soon, with Dan going away.
Phil shook away all those thoughts, a crease appearing in his brow. Dan reached out to smooth it away with his thumb, a sweet gesture he’d started doing whenever Phil was stressed or worrying about something. “You don’t have to say anything, Phil.”
“I just,” Phil started, and then turned to look straight at Dan. “Do you want me to say anything?”
Dan blinked. He looked startled for a moment before casually schooling his expression back into a careful blank. That was the problem with Dan being such a good actor – when he didn’t want to show his emotion, he really didn’t show it.
“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Dan answered delicately.
“I don’t,” Phil agreed, “I mean, not if you don’t want to. I just. Does that mean you want it to be a secret?”
Dan looked a bit pained. “That isn’t a fair question.”
“What do you mean?”
Dan squirmed, but Phil pressed him, leaning in a bit closer. “What do you mean, Dan? Communicate, remember. Talk to me.”
Dan made a face at him. He took in a breath, slowly, and then let it out. He closed Phil’s laptop and slid it onto the floor, and then made grabby hands at Phil in a gesture that Phil had come to realise meant come closer, need to hold you.
Phil obliged, and let Dan wrap him up in long arms, hold him against his chest. He laid his head comfortable on Dan’s shoulder.
“Saying something would mean that this is something that’s going to last,” Dan eventually murmured into Phil’s hair.
Phil’s mouth went dry. He froze.
“I don’t mean that would be a bad thing,” Dan hastily continued, “I mean, like, it would make it official.”
Phil managed to unstick his mouth enough to say, “And that would be a bad thing?”
“No, no, I don’t mean anything like that.” Dan let out a cross little sigh. “I mean – um – it would mean we’d both face a lot of questions about it, and if you’re… if you’re in Manchester, and I’m in London, um. We’d have to face them alone.”
Phil took in a careful breath. The weight behind Dan’s words told Phil that he’d thought about them a lot, probably been thinking about the coming month just as much as Phil had, in fact. Maybe if they’d talked about it sooner, Phil wouldn’t have had to do as much worrying on his own.
“I mean,” Phil started, and then stopped again.
Dan nudged at him. “What?”
“I mean, we might not be apart forever,” Phil answered quietly. He felt Dan quiver against him, and he bit his lip. He didn’t know if now was the time to bring this up, or if there would ever even be a better time, but Dan sounded worried and Phil didn’t like Dan being worried.
He leaned back enough to look at Dan, right in the eyes, and the worry he saw there made Phil want to dispel it immediately. “I mean, London is a thing.”
Dan smiled briefly. He didn’t look away. “London is indeed a thing.”
“I’ve been looking,” Phil confessed quickly, “There are internships. Places that do the kind of thing I’d want to do.”
“Really?” Dan was obviously trying really hard to keep the hope out of his voice, but he wasn’t quite succeeding. That warmed Phil. He was wanted, obviously, desired by Dan Howell, and that still didn’t quite make sense in his head.
“Not yet,” Phil warned him. “My PhD doesn’t finish until two months after you’ve gone back to London. I have to be here for that.”
Dan wilted a bit. But he nodded. “I’d expected something like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’ve been working for ages on your degree, I’m happy for you.” Dan smiled at him, the expression a little shy, a little vulnerable. Phil felt his heart give just a little bit more. He loved this man – he really loved him, and that was still hard to come to terms with.
Phil smiled back. “But after that – after that, well, I don’t know. It’s a possibility.”
Dan was staring at him almost disbelievingly. Phil didn’t like it much when he did that, but his options to make Dan happy were still fairly limited. Phil just wasn’t very good at it, much as he’d like to be.
Phil leaned in, pressed a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “It’s a possibility.”
Dan’s cheek had gone red. That was nice. He also still had his arms around Phil, which was also nice, and he was smiling a bit as he answered, “To be clear – are you saying you coming to London with me is a possibility?”
Phil thought about it for a moment. Then he nodded a bit hesitantly. “After my degree. Maybe.”
Dan’s eyes were a little wide and a little wild. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Well,” Phil amended, “I’m thinking about it. It’s not something to rule out.”
Dan kept staring at him for a bit, and then he was grinning and holding Phil tighter. “Good enough for me.”
---
There was hope, but there was also sadness, because time was running out on them too fast and Phil still hadn’t made a decision.
Three weeks disappeared like sand rushing through Phil’s fingers. It didn’t matter how much he tried to grab onto it, the time just went faster and faster, rushing on and inexorably on until he was left standing alone and forlorn in his own apartment with boxes of Dan’s stuff gathered up all around him.
All the things that had collected in Phil’s flat over the past few months, every little memory of Dan being here, was wrapped up carefully and packaged and taped and shut away, all ready to be moved out. Including Dan himself.
Phil felt sick to his stomach.
Dan stood opposite him, an awkward distance away, playing with the ends of his sleeves. He wasn’t looking at Phil, seeming to find it easier to study his carpet instead. The air between them felt charged. The last bag was sitting packed by Dan’s feet.
“It just makes more sense to leave tonight,” Dan was explaining, still steadfastly studying the carpet. “The cars are leaving the hotel really early tomorrow. I don’t want to disturb you in the morning.”
You wouldn’t, Phil was desperate to say. But he didn’t. He stayed quiet, except for the ringing in his ears and the slightly wild thud of his heartbeat.
The boxes were moved, one by one, into the car waiting outside Phil’s flat. They did it together, woodenly, not talking but not staying far apart either. Phil treasured every brush of Dan’s elbow, every minute left in his company. They were rather rapidly disappearing, after all.
The last box was in the car. Dan was hovering awkwardly on the pavement, one hand on the car door, his eyes fixed on Phil.
Phil should turn around and go back inside. They were in public, and even if they weren’t, Phil was bad at goodbyes. This was why he’d always returned home. He couldn’t deal with last times, with never-seeing-people-agains. He left everything open-ended, and always came back to the place that meant the most to him. He didn’t do well at leaving.
Was he ever going to see Dan again?
Dan was staring at him with carefully masked emotions. Phil hated that too. He wished he could push back past those boundaries, get back to where he and Dan had been. They’d been so close, they’d been so open and honest with each other. Eventually. Dan was the one person Phil had never wanted, and then everything he’d wanted but never thought he’d have, and then, miraculously, been the person to openly accept him. Everything about him.
Phil couldn’t lose that. He didn’t want to let go.
Dan swallowed. His hand awkwardly fumbled on the car door, and for a moment Phil thought he was going to step away from the car and back into Phil’s arms, and this whole hellish ordeal could be over.
But he didn’t.
Instead, the car door flew open, and Dan turned as if to climb inside.
Phil’s heart stopped.
Dan paused, turned back to face Phil. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, he just stared at Phil’s face some more.
Phil hung in stasis. His body tipped forward, telling him to take the step and go, to stop the best thing in his life from walking away from him.
But the crease in Dan’s brow was back, and he turned away again with a muttered, “See ya, Phil,” and then he was climbing into the car.
“Wait,” Phil’s mouth said without his permission.
Dan paused, span back around again in an instant. His face was still carefully blank.
Phil stayed still for a moment, counting the racing beats of his heart, tracing the planes of Dan’s face that he’d come to know so well. Dan Howell, the Dan Howell, famous actor, blind fool at times, but most importantly, Phil’s Dan.
There was no way Phil could let him go like this.
“Stay,” he begged.
Dan’s mouth dropped open.
“Just tonight,” Phil pleaded, because, apparently, he wasn’t above actual begging. He took a step forward, grabbed one of Dan’s hands in his own.
Dan’s blank expression was melting.
“I know it can’t be forever,” Phil continued, his tone shattering a bit. “Just stay. You can wake me at whatever hellish time you have to tomorrow, just – just stay one more night. Please.”
Dan hovered, his gaze quickly flicking left and right. They were in the middle of a public street, Phil’s street, and there was a suspicious looking car sitting up the road that had been there all morning and was still directly facing them, but Phil just couldn’t let Dan go like this.
He prayed he was doing the right thing.
“Please,” he said again and tugged once at Dan’s hand.
Dan’s face finished melting, and he was standing there looking at Phil with the warmest, most vulnerable gaze Phil had ever seen. His fingers were trembling a bit, but he closed them firmly around Phil’s and took a step towards him, until Phil was forced to look up to meet his eyes.
“Ok,” Dan whispered, and then span to say to the driver, “Go back to the hotel. I’ll meet you there in the morning.”
The driver, as discrete as ever, simply nodded and disappeared.
Phil felt a little bit faint. His fingers tightened in Dan’s, the world swaying around him. Dan was still here. For now. He was here.
Fingers tightened around Phil’s arm, gently pushing him towards the door. “Inside, now,” Dan whispered into his ear, “Quickly, I need to – Phil, I need to—”
Phil understood. He knew exactly what Dan was talking about. He fumbled for his keys, got them both back inside his building, and hurried quickly to his flat door.
They didn’t make it two steps before Dan was pushing Phil against the wall, still metres from his actual flat, and this was still dangerous because anyone could walk past, anyone could see them—
“Phil,” Dan whispered, and the sound was broken and almost desperate and Phil couldn’t think about anything else, not right then. He stared right back at the man in front of him, the man clutching at his shirt sleeve hard enough to pinch his arm, the man who looked so young suddenly with no hint of sardonic amusement on his face.
Phil reached up for him, leaned in, and kissed him.
Dan sagged into him, like he was melting all over again, fitting perfectly in Phil’s arms until Phil was the only one holding him up. Phil wasn’t the only one this was taking a toll on. Not with the way Dan reached for him, held onto him, kissed him like a drowning man.
“Not yet,” Phil whispered against his lips, dragging him down the hall into the safety of his flat.
---
They did the most kissing they’d ever done in one go that night. Up until then, kisses had been small, gentle things, sweet nudges of affection against each other’s lips, nothing more. They hadn’t needed anything more.
But this time – this time, Phil felt like a desperate man, like someone who was about to lose everything under his fingertips. He clung onto Dan, remembered the feeling against him, tried to lose himself in someone else’s arms.
They stayed fully clothed, which held off Phil’s repulsion. And the kissing was still just kissing, aside from when Dan occasionally leaned down and pressed his lips to Phil’s throat, which sent a shiver down Phil’s spine which was just this side of good. Any more, and he’d have been pushing Dan away, but Dan had grown to learn his reactions and knew not to push him any further.
Dan needed this, too. He never left Phil’s side, never left any unnecessary space between them, until the warmth was almost unbearable. But Phil would never have had it any other way. They stayed wrapped up in Phil’s bedsheets in a tangled heap of limbs and faces and breathing and kisses, and neither of them got much sleep that night.
“I’m going to miss you,” Dan mumbled at some point with his face buried in Phil’s hair.
“Shush,” Phil muttered back, swatting at him, and then rolled them over so he could lie himself down on Dan’s warm, sturdy chest. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to hold Dan here, in his bed, and remember what it felt like to have another person in his flat.
He fell asleep soon after, but Dan remained awake, eyes hiding a shadow as he stroked his fingers through Phil’s hair.
In the morning, Phil woke up to an empty bed and a note scrawled hastily on the back of an envelope and left on the bedside table. Car arrived. Didn’t want to wake you. There were a few scribbled out lines, and then, finally, Don’t break anything before I see you again. All my love – Dan.
Phil stared at it for a very long time, until his vision had blurred and his breathing sounded funny.
All my love – Dan.
He’d thought that word would terrify him. Phil still hadn’t said it, wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to without it feeling like some sort of lie. But he felt it. The emotion blossoming in his chest, constricting his heart until he thought it would burst – there was no denying what that was.
Phil blinked, hard, grabbed the note, screwed it against his chest, and flopped back into his pillows. Dan was apparently just as bad at goodbyes as Phil was, but Phil couldn’t help wishing Dan had at least woken him up. Just to have one last hug.
But would Phil really have been able to let go?
Honestly, Phil wouldn’t put it past himself to just upend everything on a whim and head down to London with Dan, his PhD be damned. But that wasn’t the sensible, adult thing to do. Phil needed some thinking time, time to actually consider his own future and how best to keep Dan in it. Maybe he did need space to do that.
But no amount of rationalising would stop the hollow ache in his heart when he rolled over to find the other half of the bed empty.
Phil bit his lower lip, glanced down at the note still squished between his fingers, and then tucked it securely under his pillow. He’d leave it there, he decided, until Dan was back with him again.
They wouldn’t leave it too long. Phil didn’t think he could cope.
But for now, he had work in a few hours and a thesis to finish, so after a few minutes more of moping, Phil forced himself out of the bed for day number one without Dan.
A/N: A note before you go: (incredibly) this fic is up for several phanfic awards (thank you so so much to anyone who nominated me, I couldn’t believe it!!) so if you’re interested in the awards and want info on how to vote check out this post here
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