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lo1k-diamonds · 24 days ago

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Moving On 💜

You can sleep with me.

PAIRING: Hoseok x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: All you wanted was to help your best friend move in with her fiancé, Jin — you just didn't know putting up with Hoseok came with the deal. And now there's only one bed.

WORD COUNT: 22.2k

GENRE: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, smut, oneshot (is renovating a house a genre? 🤣)

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: bickering, arguing, Jin is a whole mood and sometimes he doesn't help, unfinished business, misunderstandings, Hoseok is actually a sweetheart and vulnerable and goals, alcohol (no one does things drunk), sexual tension, dirty talking, brief masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda), oh brat reader 💯, soft Dom Hoseok, oral f rec, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, his hand around your throat once, pulling out, reader can't get enough of him 🤷‍♀️

A.N.: So... I had the idea for this fic one year ago, when I renovated my place and moved in. I'm trying to go through my WIP folder, what can I say? Better late than never. Also, that's where some of the knowledge comes from, but don't take it at face value 😅 I did most of the painting, not the rest 🤣 Anyway, enjoy 😉 Thank you, Raven @eerieedits, for the banner! This is another entry for Bangtan Writers HQ's Second Quarter 2025 event: ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’.

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

As soon as you exited the bus, you heard a familiar voice shouting your name. Ahn Hyeonseo was easy to spot at the Gwangju bus terminal — she was the beautiful girl jumping around and waving for you to find her between the crowd of families, the elderly, and a few young people. You waved back and got your luggage from the bus luggage compartment before making your way to her.

She squealed in your ear as she hugged you, “I’m so happy you’re here!!!”

You hugged your best friend with a sigh, then pulled away. “There are way too many people here,” you complained, telling her in so many words that you wanted to leave.

She led the way from the terminal to the nearby, overcrowded parking lot. “Because of the festival. I’m happy we scheduled this well in advance, or I’m not sure how you’d get a ticket.”

“It’s why we picked this weekend anyway.” You shrugged as you dragged your luggage at least half your size behind you.

She raised an eyebrow as she eyed it. “Yeah… And you need all that for a weekend?”

You scoffed. “This is just what I might need to help you,” you underlined, poking her with your elbow as she grinned. “My clothes are in my backpack,” you added, showing her your big backpack that she certainly noticed when she hugged you.

She smiled widely as she unlocked the car and helped you load your things inside. “I got everything you told me to, and you can always wear my clothes.”

You pushed the trunk door closed. “These are just for the details… I don’t know what I’ll encounter.”

Hyeonseo laughed playfully as she got into the driver's seat, and you got into the shotgun seat. You were teasing her because she had only sent you a few photos, hoping to convince you to visit and see for yourself. That made things more complicated because you didn’t just want to visit, you wanted to help her restore the house she had bought with her fiancé. But Hyeonseo preferred to keep up the mystery.

“Don't exaggerate, you've seen the whole place. I've sent you enough photos and videos.”

“Not of the details,” you complained, and she shrugged.

“People were working, so everything was covered anyway. Now that the electricity, plumbing, floors, and all that is done, we can finally finish it.” She had a massive smile as she drove you to her new home. “I'm very excited about it.”

“How was the move-in?”

“We took two days off and already slept there tonight.” She glanced at you with sparkles in her eyes. “I love it. I’m so happy we did this, even if it literally makes me broke for the rest of my life.”

You grimaced ever so slightly, but stopped yourself from commenting negatively.

“It was a good investment,” you told her, observing the streets that would witness your best friend building her family. “It was a good find for where it is and everything.”

“Yeah, it’s just the amount of work it needed,” she sighed. She gave you the latest update about the roof, and you recognized the long sigh of someone who wanted to spare you the stressful details. “But it’s finally done. We’ve moved in, everything is in boxes everywhere, and we can now work on the details. That’s where you come in.”

She smiled sheepishly, and you felt lighter. “I thought you’d want to settle in asap and overlook the details.”

“Well, Jin is right — if we don’t do it now, we will never do it. And since we can get help, we decided to push through it,” she explained as you observed the residential neighbourhood you were now in. “Our kitchen isn’t finished, we only have a few pieces of furniture… It’s a work in progress. Actually, that’s one thing we need your help with,” she added, as though suddenly remembering. “We thought to replace the built-in closets, but it’s really expensive. So we wanted you to take a look and tell us if they can be recovered.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“There’s also— Ah, you’ll see,” she cut herself short when she entered her new driveway.

A pickup was already parked there, and you automatically assumed someone was still working at the house. More importantly, you leaned forward to look out of the windshield at their new home. It had two floors, plus an attic, and it looked quite nice, with black tiles on the roof and large windows. Who knew your best friend would become a homeowner?

“Come, let’s get you inside,” she said, already getting your luggage from the trunk. “I have to call the furniture store again, it’s getting late.”

Hyeonseo huffed and refused to let you carry everything by yourself. Instead, she went ahead and entered the place through the garage, welcoming you inside her home for the first time.

“Come in!!!” she almost squealed, putting your luggage to the side and forcing you to put your backpack down too.

You were already in awe, eying the whole place. It was spacious, with an open concept and large windows at the front, providing ample light to an almost empty living room, aside from the materials and machines left there and the air conditioning unit up in the corner. The wood floor was beautiful and matched the vibe of a fixer-upper. The kitchen also looked brand new, but you could see what Hyeonseo meant with it not being finished — there was no stove, for example.

“We’re supposed to get a bunch of things still today, I’m so excited!” She clapped her hands. “Chairs, a dining table, and a couch. Finally, it will start looking a bit more proper!”

“Tell me you have a bed,” you asked, suddenly worried.

Hyeonseo laughed. “First thing we assembled — our bed and the guest room’s bed.” You sighed, and she waved at you to follow. “Come, I’ll show you the rest!”

You wanted to stop and observe things a bit more carefully, but Hyeonseo dragged you along to the first floor after a glimpse at the bathroom. Instantly, you noticed the dark blue stains on the wood stair treads and halted. Glancing behind you, you noticed that the ground-floor wooden floor had no stains.

“What happened here?” you asked, reaching to touch a particularly dark stain to feel how thick it was.

“Some walls upstairs were blue and they didn’t protect the floors while painting,” Hyeonseo revealed, then heaved a deep breath. “The renovating team fixed the floors, but not the stairs. They proposed it, but it was expensive, and it would mean not being able to access the rooms for a while, which didn’t work for us. We needed to move in this week,” she reminded you as she climbed the rest of the stairs, and you nodded.

“Yeah, well, it’s not a lot, it just takes a lot of time… I might be able to do something about it.”

Hyeonseo sighed in relief, happy to count on you. Once on the first floor, she proudly showed you the second bathroom and the master bedroom. You nodded, noting that the only pieces of furniture you’d seen so far were that bed and a couple of chairs in the living room. The ladders didn’t count. Nor did the yet-to-be-assembled furniture, like the bookshelves, closets, and desk, still sitting in piles of wood planks and bolts in the living room.

“You painted the rooms already?” you asked, and she nodded.

“Just the bedrooms, so we could learn to do it and already sleep here. What do you think? That main wall was dark blue before.” She pointed at the main wall behind their bed, and you nodded, approving the very light orange tone they had chosen instead.

“It’s nice, it opens the room and makes it softer.” You walked around, noticing the corners and the skirting board. “You even protected the skirting board and taped the other wall for a perfect line. I’m impressed.”

“You told us to!”

You smirked. “Sure, but you did it properly.” Hyeonseo rolled her eyes, and you raised an eyebrow at the built-in closet. “Is that the one?”

You approached it carefully, instantly entranced by the beautiful flower engravings on the wooden sliding doors. However, once close, you scowled. “They got paint on the closets too?! How clumsy can they be?”

Hyeonseo sighed. “Yeah, they left it a mess.”

You slid the closet door open and started feeling the shelves and the back of the closet. You hummed as you did, glad that it didn’t look like there was much damage to be fixed.

“Well, the closet might look old, but the wood is sound. I think just some sanding and treatment with oil should be enough.”

“That’s wonderful news!” your best friend beamed. “Let me show you your room.”

You followed her to the room next door, which had a queen-sized bed and a similar built-in closet. You were about to make your way to it to check it out, but Hyeonseo guided you away gently by the shoulders. “You can check it later. Think about this,” she coaxed, turning you to look at the sun-lit room. “You can visit anytime,” she gushed, hugging you dearly. “We’re just a three-hour drive away!”

You smiled and held her back, eternally thankful for her.

“Now come and check the attic!” She beamed at you, grabbing your hand to drag you along. “It’s the only part they finished before we bought it,” she explained as she went up the narrow wooden stairs.

You placed your hand on the wooden railing and compared it with the other set leading to the ground floor. The Korean pine wood you were touching had been recently installed, and it still had a fresh, new smell. It was the same type of wood as the older set leading to the ground floor, but that one needed work. Starting by removing those horrible dark blue paint stains—

“Oh, hi!!” Hyeonseo beamed again, already out of your sight.

You pressed your lips and hurried to follow your best friend to the attic before she called you out for geeking about the wood of her stairs.

You instantly heard Jin’s voice replying to her and smiled, but your stomach dropped as the attic came into view.

“Hobi!” Hyeonseo all but shouted and jumped into his arms, and you almost missed the last step and fell face-first onto the beautiful varnished floor.

Only Jin seemed to notice your almost tumble; he hid a smirk as you kept going, sniffling casually. By then, your brain couldn’t take in the spacious, raised-ceiling, well-lit room. You were just staring at the man hugging Hyeonseo, anticipating being able to see his face at any moment and confirm that it was, in fact—

Hyeonseo’s feet touched the floor when Hoseok put her down. “Ah! The pickup outside! I didn’t recognize it!”

Hoseok smiled casually as he let her step back into Jin’s orbit. “It’s my father’s. I grabbed a bunch of things from him just in case.”

“I told you the roof was fixed.” Jin shrugged, placing a hand on Hyeonseo’s shoulder, only to make her slide to the side so he could greet you.

“I have other things as well,” Hoseok said as his eyes landed on you, and you stopped breathing.

For a split second, you didn’t know how to feel. He looked good five years later, with clearer skin and a sturdier build. Even if he still looked scrawny under his cargo pants and white tank top, he was taller and stronger. His eyes were just as scrutinizing as you remembered, even with soft locks of hair falling over them. Yet, they were all you could see until Jin got in your line of sight.

“There she is!”

You raised your eyes to meet Jin’s just in time to be swept off your feet and squeezed empty like a balloon while trying not to squeak like one.

“Don’t kill her, put her down,” Hyeonseo chuckled, tapping her fiancé’s shoulder. Jin put you down with a grin as she told him, “We need her alive.”

“That we do,” he agreed, then turned to Hoseok. “I’m guessing you remember each other.”

You almost gasped. Instead, your eyes jumped to Hoseok’s, remembering everything. Your gut churned as his features remained stoic. All he did was bow, and you bowed back.

“Hello.”

You mumbled a hello back before pointing behind you. “I’ll go check the other closet now.”

“Now?” Jin asked, confused. “You can do that later!” he suggested, but you were already going down the stairs.

“In case we need to buy something extra,” you retorted, projecting your voice so he could still hear you.

You heard feet behind you and knew Hyeonseo was following you down. You waited in the second bedroom, then closed the door behind her.

“What the hell?!” you whispered-shouted, widening your eyes at her.

“What?”

You instantly knew she was feigning her naivety. “You know we don’t get along!!”

She rolled her eyes. “That was in high school.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, biting your lip. Reeling your frustration in. “Why is he here anyway?”

“Besides being Jin’s best friend,” she underlined, “he also knows what he’s doing. His dad is a contractor, and Hoseok has helped him his whole life with renovating houses. He brought a lot of materials and machines so we could do this right and for free.”

You groaned. “Aren’t you lucky with your friends?”

She beamed at you with the wildest smile, but you were still uneasy.

“Why this weekend?” you insisted. “I know you say it’s just high school and that it was five years ago, but you know me better than that.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, sighing. “This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to have come last weekend, but plans changed at the last minute, so it happened like this.”

“And I don’t suppose he could come back later?” you asked, and she smiled sheepishly.

“Not really… His mom moved to Seoul, and his dad lives more than two hours away. He drove all the way on purpose to help us. Sorry,” she added before opening the bedroom door to shout back at Jin. “WHAT?”

You didn’t hear what he was asking, only that Hobi would stay there the weekend at the same time as you. Maybe he’d leave soon. Clearly, the place was almost done anyway. All that was left were details, and you could handle those.

You took a deep breath, using that thought to soothe yourself. It was temporary. And it was all water under the bridge anyway. It all happened a long time ago.

“Not yet! Come,” Hyeonseo called you to follow her. “I have to call the furniture retailer and then order something for dinner.”

You heaved a deep breath, throwing a woeful eye at the built-in closet before following her out. You didn’t want to be anywhere Hoseok was, nor did you want to pretend otherwise.

You could appreciate Jin and Hyeonseo’s effort, though. She called the furniture retailer, which confirmed delivery soon, then ordered fried chicken. Meanwhile, she bantered with Jin the whole time, who focused on trying to create cocktails without knowing where anything was.

“It’s written on the box!” Hyeonseo facepalmed, and Jin started whining just to push her buttons.

“Yeah, I know! But it’s not in the box that says bar!! Did you throw my shaker away?”

“No!!” she denied with a screech as she pushed boxes left and right, trying to find the right one. “How else would you make me drinks?”

“Right? Then you have to find it,” he teased, then scoffed. “Otherwise I’ll never again be able to—”

“Ah!!! Found it!” she claimed victoriously as she stood from her knees with a small box containing a cocktail shaker and other things.

“Woah!! How was I supposed to find it?! You called the box ‘tools’!!”

“It is a tool… to make drinks…” she tried, putting the box in his hands. He scoffed and she insisted, “The tool boxes are all yours anyway.”

He gasped. “There’s more than one?!”

She forced an angelic smile, then darted away, and Jin kept whining about her. You knew it was all playful and guessed Hoseok knew as hell, only he wasn’t listening. He was inspecting the sockets and light switches to ensure they were installed correctly. When a socket almost broke apart in his hand when he touched it, you guessed all of them needed to be checked.

He glanced at you, then kept going as though you could be anyone, and it annoyed you. He was the douchebag, why the hell was he ignoring you?

You spun on your heels. “I’m going to—”

“No way!” Jin stopped you, leaning over the counter as though he would run after you if he had to. “You had a long trip, and you just got here. Sit while I make you a drink.”

Your mood lightened as the evening progressed. Hyeonseo and Jin kept playfully bickering while she made fun of him for not making proper drinks, settling instead for soju and beer bottles. The fried chicken arrived not long after, and the conversation between the four of you was decent, even if you and Hoseok never really addressed or answered each other. You never thought you’d ever be sitting down on the floor eating fried chicken with your bare hands with him, but there you were.

You were almost done eating when the doorbell rang. Hyeonseo instantly sprang up to go get it with Jin echoing close behind her, “Finally!!!”

You glanced at Hoseok, who lowered his eyes quickly as the couple got the door. Instantly, you could hear how relieved they sounded, but it was short-lived.

“This can’t be right,” Hyeonseo challenged, and you turned to look.

There were six beige textile dining chairs with light oak legs and a gorgeous matching dining table that made you gasp quietly. It was beautiful craftsmanship with a smoke finish that just made you want to slide your hand on its surface.

“Where is the couch?”

That was the question that sparked a long, back-and-forth discussion. The delivery guys had no idea; it wasn’t on their delivery sheet. It was past closing time, so at first they couldn’t contact the retailer. Eventually, they managed to, but everything was correct on their side — chairs, table, and couch. Finally, the store said something had happened at the warehouse, and even though Hoseok offered to go get the couch himself, the manager had sad news.

“It was shipped to our warehouse in Daegu by mistake,” he said over the phone on speaker. “I can promise you’ll get it, but only on Monday.”

“It’s two hours away,” Hoseok said, and Hyeonseo shook her head.

“Two and a half hours, which makes five. You’re not going at this hour—”

“They can’t give it to you even if you go. The paperwork must be sorted before it can be delivered to you. I’ll do it personally, but they only reopen on Monday. I’m sorry.”

There seemed to be no workaround, so the call ended, and the delivery guys left.

After a moment of silence, Jin decided, “We’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hoseok instantly shook his head.

“It’s the only option.” Hyeonseo exchanged a look with Jin, then continued, “Your dad is too far away.”

“The fuel is cheaper than a hotel,” Hoseok argued, and she shrugged.

“But the four-hour drive is not worth it.”

“You blew through all your savings, absolutely not,” Hoseok insisted, throwing a look at Jin as well. “I can book my own hotel room, it’s fine—”

“Everything is likely booked because of the festival,” Jin breathed, and you knew before he finished talking that Hyeonseo would groan and curse their luck.

“Damn it, you’re right!”

Hoseok still tried, “Well, there must be one room left somewhere—”

“You can sleep with me,” you offered.

Everyone turned to look at you, even him, and the silence stretched. It was the first time he was looking at you as though he saw you, and his features hardened.

Next to him, Hyeonseo raised her voice, “I’ll ask my parents for money and—”

“What?!” Hoseok interjected, then shook his head firmly. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“You can sleep with me,” you repeated firmly, trying as best you could not to be annoyed.

He looked at you again, and you could see the vexation sparkling in his eyes. You kept your eyes on his, daring him to say he was so petty about stupid high school drama that he’d rather sleep on the floor.

“We can’t ask you to do that,” Hyeonseo protested, and you shrugged.

“We’re both adults. Besides, we’re not strangers,” you pointed out, letting the room take in your laidbackness.

Hours before, you had told Hyeonseo she should have known better than to invite Hoseok while you were there, and now you were saying it was fine to sleep in the same bed. And that was the thing — it was logical. Because there was a difference between what you’d prefer and the situation at hand. You were not that petty.

Hoseok kept scrutinizing you as though he could read your mind, and you held his stare relaxedly, with nothing to hide. “I don't bite, you know.”

He rolled his eyes as Jin and Hyeonseo exchanged a look, but then they looked at Hoseok, and you noticed the hope in their eyes. You didn’t doubt they’d call their parents and get money to pay for a place somewhere, even if it cost hundreds of thousands or millions of Korean won a night. But you also knew there was no way Hoseok would go for that. And there was no way they’d let him pay it, so—

“Fine,” Hoseok accepted as he shrugged. His hands were in his pockets, and you couldn’t help the irritation. Not even a thank you, a bow, an acknowledgment, or any indication that he’d make this an endurable experience. You couldn’t believe you had ever fallen for him. Even as a teen, how were you so stupid? He was not a soft-spoken or gentle person. He was unrefined and ungrateful.

“Shouldn’t you also promise not to bite her?” Jin asked Hoseok, and Hyeonseo elbowed her fiancé. Hoseok didn’t bother answering, and you couldn’t tell if Jin was serious or trying to lighten the mood. He insisted, “No, I’m serious. I think it’s only healthy to establish boundaries. See, I should have forbidden you from hitting me from the start, now it’s a bad habit,” he explained as he caught Hyeonseo’s hands mid air trying to stop him from saying nonsense and making things weird. “We’re a cautionary tale, kids. Listen well to—”

“Oh, stop it,” she whined, and Jin smiled and kissed her forehead.

“It’s getting late,” Hobi commented, interrupting them. “Maybe we should decide on how to make this weekend the most efficient.”

He grabbed his beer and waved at the hosts to sit first on their new dining chairs. You couldn’t help but smile as Hyeonseo and Jin sat and touched the new table, kicking their feet and giggling — their house was coming together little by little.

Hoseok gave them a minute before settling on a chair next to Jin, and you finally mimicked him — you grabbed your soju and sat next to Hyeonseo.

“Okay, let’s make a list and then establish priorities,” Hoseok started, and everyone agreed. “Have you bought the stove?”

“Yes, we can pick it up tomorrow morning,” Jin replied.

“Okay, I can install it. I noticed that some sockets and light switches are not installed properly, and one of them is broken. We need to buy that too. Now, lamps,” he pointed above their heads, “you only have the light bulbs or nothing at all. We need to get something too, have you decided what you want?”

“We wanted something modern and simplistic,” Hyeonseo told him, and Jin nodded.

“Pick something, I can also install them. Same for garden lights. What else?” Hoseok mused, looking around. “We’ll need to paint the whole ground floor, bathrooms, and corridors. I noticed the damage and cracks on the wall.”

“We were told it was normal,” Hyeonseo mumbled, instantly worried, and Hoseok nodded.

“It is, it’s the house breathing, and probably from paintings and shelves and things like that from the previous owners. But I’ll patch those up before we paint. I also noticed that the doors look old, and the built-in closets are not looking great either. Have you considered replacing them?”

Hyeonseo shook her head, but you spoke first, “That’s why I’m here. They need a bit of work, but they should be great after I’m done with them.”

He didn’t instantly reply, and both Jin and Hyeonseo stayed quiet. Hoseok just looked at you as though he was evaluating whether he had misjudged your role in this renovation, and you couldn’t care less about his opinion.

You turned to the couple. “I’ll also remove the stains from the stairs. Though for that, I need you to buy the proper remover tomorrow as well.”

Hoseok hummed. “Okay, that’s a lot of work for two days. Maybe we should start prepping still tonight.”

You scoffed. “No way,” you disagreed, then shrugged. “We’re four adults and two of us know what we’re doing. As long as we have everything we need, this will go fast.”

He huffed. “Still. Prepping now is time we don’t have to spend tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Hyeonseo. “You have the paint you want?”

“Yes.”

“Did you pick special paint for the bathrooms?” Hoseok asked. “Because of the humidity—”

“I told them to get waterproof paint,” you interrupted.

“She did, we have it,” Jin confirmed, eyeing the two of you as though you were children about to fight.

You looked away from Hoseok to Hyeonseo. “So the most efficient way of doing things will be that you and Jin go get your stove and the ceiling and garden lights while Hoseok handles the wall patches, and I check the sockets and light switches.”

“You know how to do that?” Hoseok asked, and you couldn’t help your sarcasm.

“What else are you going to ask me? If I can change a light bulb?”

His features sharpened, but Hyeonseo spoke first, “Alright, and then?”

“Then Hoseok can install the stove so we can eat lunch while the others prep the floors, skirting boards, and windows. I wouldn’t tape the doors cause I plan on sanding them and painting them anyway. Then, after lunch, if the patches are dry, we can sand them and start painting. That will take the longest, but with three people, you’ll go fast.”

“Why, what will you do?” Hoseok asked with a hint of cynicism.

“I’ll start with the stairs because they will take the longest. Then I’ll handle the closets and then the doors. If you could sand them beforehand, that would be great.”

He scoffed with derision before smiling. “There’s one flaw in your plan.”

“What?”

“The spackling paste needs at least twenty-four hours to dry.”

You frowned. “No, it doesn’t, a couple of hours is enough.”

“No, that’s not good enough.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s to fix little—”

“Doesn’t matter how little it is, the paint won't adhere nicely and it will be noticeable in the long run,” he argued, and you heaved a deep breath.

“Guys—” Hyeonseo tried.

“Fine,” you relented, though as annoyed as ever. “Then we only paint the walls and ceilings without patches and leave the others for Sunday.”

Hoseok didn’t even blink. “Once you open the paint bucket, the color might change.”

You had to snicker. “Over twelve hours? Give me a break!”

“It’s best to do it in one go,” Hoseok insisted.

“Sure, it’s best, but we only have two days!”

“If we start tonight, we can get it all done.”

“We’re too tired to start tonight, we can start tomorrow!” you argued, leaning over the table towards him.

“We won't be able to finish it.”

“Whatever we can’t finish, they can. They’ll at least know what to do. They can paint anytime!”

He rolled his eyes. “They need to live too. They have everything in boxes. They don’t even have closets to put their clothes or shoes in—”

You bristled. “You worry about your part, I’ll worry about mine!!”

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Jin suggested, rising from his chair. “How about a drink? A toast?”

Hyeonseo instantly picked up on his cue. “That’s a great idea! Another beer? And for you, soju?” You gave her a look, but eventually nodded and got up alongside her. Hoseok stood up too, and you ignored him. You had to swallow your pride and tone it down; there was no use in wasting your time with him.

Jin was back in a second and opened the bottles, then passed them around. Then, he raised his. “To moving in with my starlight and to surviving this,” he started, and Hyeonseo elbowed him.

“To our best man and maid of honor for being by our sides every step of our lives. We love you,” she added, teary-eyed, and you reached an arm around her. You didn’t want to fight or stress her out even more. She knew that, you could see it in her fond smile as she eyed you.

“Right, thank you also for helping us finish our house and saving us a lot of money!” Jin added cheekily, and you all had to smile.

“Jjan!”

Four bottles clinked together, and you were still smiling when your eyes crossed Hoseok’s. His expression was so much lighter and tender that it was like a gut punch. He looked just like when you were teenagers at parties or school, laughing and playing around. It was nonsensical, but your heart fluttered just as it had back then. You had to press your lips before taking a sip from your drink. It was as though your heart had forgotten all that had happened on your prom night.

But he was quick to remind you why you had fallen out. He put the bottle down and headed toward his tools in the far corner of the living room. “I’ll patch the walls tonight so we can paint tomorrow.”

You widened your eyes, instantly irked, and Hyeonseo put her hand on your shoulder, shaking her head. Jin hurried to follow Hoseok while you bristled. “Why does he have to be like this?!”

“Let him,” she told you with a shrug. “It’s his body and energy, right? Don’t worry about him, let’s get you settled in.”

You appreciated Hyeonseo's help with your bags and even more the time alone with her. With the move and her wedding planning, you barely had time to talk.

She turned to you, then propped herself up on one elbow beside you on the bed. “Do you think they're still at it?”

You nodded. You had suggested that Hoseok take the morning to do spackling because you believed he'd need more than two hours. You hadn't even been talking that long.

You tapped your fingers on the mattress over the sheet, then got up and neared the built-in closet in that room. You stood your ground that you’d only really start tomorrow, but the fact that Hoseok was getting things done already made you a little restless. It wasn’t a competition, but…

Hyeonseo called your name, and you hummed while you inspected the closet in the same way you had the other one earlier. No blue stains there, so that was a plus.

“Is it really okay for Hoseok to sleep here?”

You didn't answer, frowning as you felt something on a shelf that you weren't expecting.

“I was thinking that maybe he could sleep with Jin while I—”

“Shit!!” you exclaimed.

“What?”

She got up to join you as you started hitting the shelf until it dislodged, and you could take it out.

“Shit,” you bit again and she looked at the wooden shelf in your hand. “See this?” You pointed at the edge — it looked rugged, frail, and friable, as if it were about to break apart. “It's rotten. I think a few of them have it. Something must have spilled in there, and they didn't clean it properly at the time.”

“Okay… can you fix it?”

You were fretful as you realized the problem. “I can, but I didn't bring wood with me or tools to cut wood. I do have glue, but that’s about it.”

“Okay, but… is it really a big deal?”

You looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not going to let you use a closet that is rotting! It’s not impossible to fix, I just don’t have the tools!”

She nodded, knowing you well enough — you said you’d do it and you didn’t like failing your best friend. “I can ask Hobi.”

Your eyes instantly widened as though she had lost her mind. “I don’t want to ask him!” you blurted out louder than you needed to, and you instantly regretted it. Hyeonseo raised an eyebrow, and you swallowed dryly, reeling your irritation back in. This wasn’t about you. “But I will.”

“I can ask,” she suggested, and you shook your head.

“No, I need to ask.”

Hyeonseo didn’t question you, and you were thankful for it. You followed her out of the room downstairs as you mused over how to go about this. You decided that being professional was the best way to handle the situation. For Hyeonseo and Jin, Hoseok would surely agree.

You found him on a ladder, sanding a hole in the wall, likely from a nail used to hang up a painting. On your way, you notice multiple patches already spackled, and you have to give it to him — he’s fast and efficient. Hyeonseo turned to the kitchen to talk to Jin, but you didn’t. You stopped right next to Hoseok.

“What?” he asked quietly, feeling the hole and surrounding wall with a digit before passing the brown sandpaper a few more times.

“I need to ask you something.”

He didn’t stop working or tell you to go on, so you couldn’t help seething underneath your composure.

Still, you continued, “Did you bring any tools to work with wood?”

“I did.”

Your expression instantly morphed from concealed anger to hope. “What did you bring?”

“I have a track saw.”

“And bar clamps?”

He finally put the sandpaper in a pocket of his cargo pants and turned to look at you. “Yeah, why?”

You instantly explained the situation to him, transparent about what you needed and why. You knew you sounded overly concerned about something simple, but he didn’t snicker or mock. Instead, by the time you were done explaining what you needed and what you planned on doing, he was down from the ladder, listening to you intently.

“What type of wood do you need?”

“A type of soft pine wood. It’s inside the closet, so I can turn the shelf around and it won’t be visible even if the color is slightly different.”

He nodded. “What size?”

You raised your hand. “About twenty by ten? I’m not sure yet, I haven’t cut the rot out yet.”

“How many?”

“Two that I’ve noticed so far.”

“So, four bar clamps would be enough?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’ll check, give me a sec.”

You held back from following him and simply stayed put, waiting expectantly. You couldn’t believe you were nervous and hopeful that Hoseok would help you with this. But at the same time, you didn’t care that it was him as long as you could do it. Built-in closets were expensive, and you didn’t want to leave without fixing them. On one hand, you could just buy new shelves, but on the other, that felt like wasted money when it was something you knew how to fix.

When he came back, you rushed to him. He had six bar clamps in one hand and a couple of planks of wood that you instantly took off his hands. You analyzed the thickness, color, and size while he put the bar clamps down in the corner next to his tools.

“What do you think?” he asked, stopping next to you with his hands on his waist.

“They’ll do,” you told him with relief relaxing your shoulders. “Should I go take the measurements now?”

His eyebrows raised in a moment of surprise, and you pressed your lips. You surprised yourself by asking his opinion.

“No, that’s okay,” he said quietly, extending his hands so you could give him the planks. “Maybe we could start with the closets tomorrow morning? That way, you can leave the wood gluing until Sunday while you get the stairs done.”

You nodded, gave him the planks so he could put them down, and pressed your lips, noticing the bucket with spackling paste hanging on the ladder.

“Cool,” he told you before getting back on the ladder.

You kept your lips pressed as he grabbed his metal spackle knife. You cleared your throat. “And the sockets and light switches?”

“I can check them, don’t worry.”

He gathered paste on his spackle knife and applied it to the wall, and you ended up sighing. “Do you need help?”

“I’m almost done,” he muttered, focused on what he was doing. “A couple more and I’ll be done.”

He got down from the ladder, and if he could see your uneasiness, he didn’t say anything. So you simply nodded and let him be. After informing Hyeonseo and Jin about Hoseok helping you with everything in the morning, you headed to bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Hoseok said he’d be done soon. What was taking so long? You huffed and played with the sheet while you waited, getting irked. Why did you care anyway?

You sighed and looked at the ceiling. While you almost berated him for wanting to start tonight, it was the fact that he did that that gave you extra time to handle the unexpected wood rot in the built-in closet. Not only that, but he simply offered to help instead of flat out refusing or even taking a jab. He ended up being way more professional than you were, making you uneasy with your own attitude. You wanted things to go smoothly.

It was almost two in the morning by the time he entered the bedroom. He did so quietly in case you were sleeping, so you croaked hurriedly, “I’m not sleeping yet.”

He paused and looked at you, already under the sheets, then nodded. He had a bag with him that he dropped against the wall on the opposite side of the room, then suddenly stopped, and turned to look back at you.

You instantly tensed up and stammered, “Do you prefer this side of the bed?”

He looked down and turned away, kneeling to search for something inside his bag. “No.”

You pressed your lips as your heart started racing inside your chest. You were hyperaware of the t-shirt and shorts you had on, of the softness of the sheets you were lying on, and of what else you could potentially feel once he joined you in bed. Of course, you were no longer a teenager, but he was still… attractive and off-putting and…

He found a t-shirt and kept rummaging for something else while you swallowed dryly. He was just a hot guy you once pinned after. That was a long time ago.

He pulled a pair of shorts out and got up with the clothes in his hands, and you spoke without thinking, “I can turn around if you want.”

He blinked at you, but you were already turning to give him privacy. Instantly, your whole body heated up like crazy. Why would he change here? You were here; that would be weird. And now it would be embarrassing in any case, whether he stayed or left to change somewhere else.

You berated yourself in your head for being stupid. You should have been asleep instead of saying—

A muffled sound reached your ears, making you feel even hotter. You could imagine his cargo pants hitting the floor or his tank top, and something thrummed under your skin, making you rub your thighs together. For a second, you closed your eyes. You still remembered what it was like to be around him during high school. The way he laughed or held the door open for you. You were good friends, although for you, he was so much more.

The bed dipped behind you, and you burned. A wave of heat scorched your spine up to your neck as Hoseok settled behind you, and you could barely breathe.

He whispered, “Can I turn off the light?”

“Wait.”

Your breath hitched with your plea, and your cheeks flushed. You didn’t know your voice could sound like that, and you could only pray that he didn’t notice.

You turned back around to face him and found him looking at you with a raised eyebrow, arm stretched out to the light switch on the wall.

“I…” Your voice trailed off as you looked down. He was under the sheet, right there, an arm's length away. You cleared your voice. “Do you need a blanket?”

He observed your whole face for a second before answering, “No, do you?”

You shook your head. “I think I’ll be too hot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized you said it out loud. He didn’t even blink, but your cheeks were burning. Suddenly, you felt like breathing was impossible while he looked at you like that.

At least until he turned off the light. “Yeah, I get that.”

You didn’t know why you were reacting this way. If anything, he turned off the lights, so it had to mean he was done for the night. No more talking, looking at each other, and certainly no touching or wondering or—

You pushed a tense breath through your gritted teeth. You weren’t making any sense.

You turned your head to his side in the dark. He hadn’t moved next to you, which meant you were both just staring at the ceiling, awkward and stiff next to each other.

“Okay, listen,” you croaked out once more. “I know this is awkward, but it’s just sleeping. Can we agree to be normal and just get through this?”

“Are you saying I’m not normal?”

“N— No, I’m just—” You struggled to find words, especially because everything pointed to you not being the normal one. “I just meant that we could cooperate since we’re in this situation.”

“Am I not cooperating?”

“You are, I’m just saying that— Gosh, just—” The more you stumbled all over your words, the more you had no idea what you even meant anymore. “You can trust me, that’s all.”

You looked at him in the dark again, wondering if he’d have a snarky remark or if he’d call you out for blushing and acting weird, unlike him. You braced yourself for it, thinking what excuse you could give, and as you waited, the silence stretched. You frowned; maybe he had fallen asleep?

But eventually, he whispered, “Okay.”

You woke up slowly, so warm and snuggly, you didn’t want to move or open your eyes. You were hugging the most wonderful pillow, warm and soft, with an earthy, citrusy masculine scent that had you dreaming of walking through sun-warmed soil and citrus groves. You buried your nose a bit more, wondering why the fabric was soft but the pillow itself was so sturdy—

Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled back, gasping mutely before your hand covered your mouth. Your heart raced inside your chest as you realized you were spooning Hoseok, burying your face in his back, and getting crazed by his cologne. Your eyes widened impossibly; how crazy were you?! Yet before you could understand what the heck happened, Hoseok’s arm moved and felt the space behind him. Your stomach twisted as you slid further away from his reach, your heart about to come out of your mouth with how fast it was racing.

Whatever he thought was missing was not enough to wake him up or make him turn around. Thinking you stood a chance, you pulled the sheet closer to his back before sliding away and putting your legs out of the bed. You hugged your chest for a moment, willing yourself to calm down before getting up, grabbing your things, and rushing to the bathroom. It looked like you were the first one up, and maybe that was a good thing, because you needed to do some serious soul-searching to figure yourself out.

It was just Hoseok. You didn’t even like him, hadn’t for many years. Hadn’t since he misled you, broke your heart, hurt you, making you angrier than you had ever felt. And humiliated and blindsided and—

You clenched your teeth as you washed your face. Right. That Hoseok. You weren’t seventeen anymore, but it didn’t hurt to remember what happened. Maybe your attraction to him was undeniable, but he still didn’t deserve a second of your attention, let alone whatever was happening to you. You were there to help Jin and Hyeonseo, nothing more.

When you got downstairs, you were glad to find the happy couple scrambling to prepare whatever was left for breakfast and brewing coffee. It gave you a moment to sit down, chill, and wait for Hoseok to wake up.

Five minutes later, Hoseok was already downstairs and ready to have coffee, so you finished yours in an instant to get to work.

Hoseok's calling halted you in your tracks. “Wait, let’s decide what our morning looks like first.” You pressed your lips and nodded, rejoining the three of them in the kitchen. He turned to the couple. “Have you decided on the lights you want?”

“Yeah, we stayed up last night deciding,” Hyeonseo beamed, and Jin grabbed his phone to show what they had picked.

You didn’t have much to say; their options were modern and seamless, easily blending in with their aesthetic.

“Okay, so the plan is the same,” Hoseok concluded, glancing at you. “You go with Hyeonseo to get the stove, the lights you selected, and the stain remover. Meanwhile, we’ll get the closets started. We should take care of the sockets and light switches before we prep for painting. Also, you need to get covers for the floor.”

“We saved cardboard boxes to use them as protection,” Hyeonseo shared with a smile, nudging you.

“Good idea,” Hoseok agreed, and your lips twitched in the hint of a smile. Of course it was.

Everyone agreed on what to do, so you went ahead upstairs. Now you were paranoid that there could be more rot you hadn’t found, so the quicker you were sure the built-in closets were fine, the better.

You grabbed your toolbox and got started in your room, removing the doors, drawers, and shelves from the closet, and laying them on the floor out of the way in a corner of the room. The two shelves that had rotted were placed to one side, and fortunately, everything else seemed to be in good condition. You tapped everywhere extra times and felt each surface to make extra sure everything was fine. Once you were certain, you moved to the master bedroom and repeated the same process there.

Fortunately, no rot there, but the front of the sliding doors had dark blue stains on the flower carvings. Once everything was dismantled, you knelt and felt the paint splashes with your finger, and that was how Hoseok found you.

“Need help?”

“No, it’s okay. The ones with the rot are in our room,” you told him, stopping what you were doing to show them to him.

Once there, you let him evaluate them himself as you discussed how you’d like them cut and fixed.

“Okay, so about five centimeters more?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to measure them and cut the new wood to size?”

“Yeah, I’ll glue them then,” you agreed, already thinking about what you had to do there while he helped with that.

He nodded. “You got it.”

You glanced at him as he left with the shelves to be cut, but didn’t notice his expression. You assumed you could trust him, given his experience, and weren’t shy about letting him do it. You had a long day ahead of you anyway.

You started getting the metal shelf pins off the closet, then unscrewed the handles of the drawers and the drawer frames. Despite the age of the wood and the carelessness with whatever liquid had rotted the shelves, the closet was at least relatively well-preserved.

When you looked up, you frowned. You were a bit short, but that closet rod was really up high. Even Hyeonseo would have difficulties using it. You should probably lower it a bit once you were done.

You jumped a few times to try to get the closet rod to come off, but it was screwed in. So your next step was to search for a ladder downstairs. You grabbed the first one you could find that was truly just a two-step folding ladder and got back to it. You had to get on your tippy toes with your screwdriver to reach the bracket and try to unscrew it, all while the metal step moaned under your feet.

Gritting through it, you smiled when the bracket came loose. However, as soon as it did, you realized it was a terrible idea to support your weight on the rod itself. As soon as it loosened, it gave way under your weight, and you fell forward.

Except a pair of hands grabbed you by the waist before you could fall inside the closet. A ruckus echoed all around you, and you cowered, covering your ears. The rod clattered inside the closet below your feet as wood shelves were tossed to the side on the floor.

Seeing them made you realize you were pressed firmly to someone’s chest. Someone who stepped on the ladder and steadied you firmly.

“Are you okay?”

You shuddered and looked over your shoulder. Hoseok was so close, letting you down slowly as your legs gave in. He supported your weight until your feet were safely on the floor. You turned to him, the adrenaline making you tremble. And yet he kept his hands firmly on your waist, making you blush even more as you tried to calm down.

“What were you doing?” he asked, and you finally saw the tension in his shoulders. “Why are you using the short ladder if you can't reach it?”

“Because— I—” you stammered, losing yourself in his eyes for a second. “Because I thought you’d need the big one.”

“I was cutting the wood pieces outside,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, well, for the…lights.”

He huffed and gave you a look, and you pressed your lips. Right as you did and realized it was unlikely your heart would stop racing for as long as his hands stayed on your waist, you heard the sound of racing footsteps up the stairs.

“Is everything okay?!” Hyeonseo shouted, but it was Jin who showed up first.

“We heard—”

He stumbled on his feet and words at the sight of Hoseok dropping his hands at your sides. Jin’s eyes were comically widened when his fiancé entered the room, looking spooked.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay. It was just noise; nothing serious happened. Thanks for the help,” you added, looking at Hoseok for a moment. “I still need to take the rod from the other closet as well, so…”

“I’ll do it,” he offered, and you frowned.

“No, I will do it.”

He sighed. “Just let me do it.”

“No!” You squinted. “I can perfectly do it myself!”

“You won’t reach it.”

You scoffed. “I can definitely reach it!”

“It’s not safe.”

“Guys—”

“Well, then help me.”

Hyeonseo called your name, and you both finally turned to her. “Should we get the other ladder?”

Jin was already exiting the room when you said, “There’s no need. This one is already here,” you remarked, with your eyes on Hoseok. You were blatantly going against his advice, but it didn’t feel like an argument. It felt like something else.

“Be reasonable,” he breathed, and you leaned toward him.

“I am. I’ll do it, and you’ll help me.”

Hyeonseo looked at Jin while you folded the two-step ladder and exited the room with Hoseok not far behind you.

“Well, we’ll go get the stove then,” Jin announced, not getting much of a response. Hyeonseo patted his shoulder, then grabbed his hand to drag him downstairs.

You didn’t see his face of disbelief because you were busy setting the ladder in front of the built-in closet in the master bedroom.

“How should I help you?”

“Stabilize the ladder.”

You stepped on it, screwdriver in hand, and he huffed. “It’s not enough,” he complained, and you smiled, already on your tiptoes to get the bracket uncrewed.

“Then stabilize me.”

He circled the ladder to get in front of you, settling his firm hands on your waist. You had a smug smile as you got the rod, but it vanished when you looked down. Hoseok was at your chest level, looking at you with dark eyes. It made your knees weak, and he was quick to grab you and put you down on the floor again.

This time, he removed his hands quickly, pushing you out of your haze. You swallowed dryly. “Thanks. See? Reached it very well,” you told him. He nodded, and you set the rod aside. “So, the shelves. We need to glue the pieces together.”

You weren’t even surprised he helped you, but you were thankful. It went faster as you applied the glue and set the pieces in position while he tightened the bar clamps to keep everything locked tight.

“There,” he said, once everything was done. You left everything drying in the hallway so the rooms wouldn’t smell. “Now you can move on to the stairs and handle the closets tomorrow.”

You shook your head. “First, the sockets and light switches.”

“I can handle that,” he suggested as you both went down the stairs.

“No, it’s faster like this. This way, if they need to buy extra, we can call them while they’re at the store.”

Hoseok turned to you when you both got to the ground floor and nodded. “Thank you.”

You weren’t supposed to have fun with Hoseok, but you wouldn’t deny it happened. You made it a competition to check every socket and light switch as fast as possible, and it was super tight. You won, checking your half first, but Hoseok dismissed it by saying he had caught two broken sockets. He had to call Jin and Hyeonseo to ask them to buy new sockets, explaining what type was needed, and you grinned. It was still a win in your book.

When the couple returned, you were quick to say you’d fix those sockets while Hoseok installed the stove. While he took the time to prepare, you noticed he kept an eye on you. You couldn’t help a smug smile while you connected the three cables in the correct color code, housed properly in the backbox, before you screwed the faceplate over it. You did it in record time, and when you got up to move to the other one, you saw him turning away with a smile on his face. You didn’t know why, but impressing him made you really fuzzy for some reason.

After that, you evaluated the stairs more seriously. You knew that even if the stains weren’t extensive, you had to do it properly — every stair tread multiple times. You weren’t even sure a whole afternoon would be enough.

You huffed and turned away, grabbing painter’s tape to start prepping alongside Jin and Hyeonseo. You even got on the high ladder to protect the fire alarm on the ceiling and noticed Hoseok glancing at you every now and then.

Hoseok and Jin installed the bedroom and bathroom lights after that, and you decided that helping with lunch was more efficient than just hanging around. It gave you more time to talk to Hyeonseo and ensure everyone got an early lunch.

“How's your shop coming along?” she asked you as she cooked and you chopped vegetables.

“You mean my online store?” you asked, and she nodded. “I have enough commissions on Etsy and other platforms to do nothing else. Working on those items means I have content to upload on social media, and I have enough views that I make some money from that already.”

“Can you believe that? Remember when restoring things was just a hobby you did in your parents' living room?”

You nodded, giving her the chopped onions. “And now I have a room in my apartment that’s my workshop.”

She took them and kept cooking. “Maybe one day you’ll have a physical store!”

You crinkled your nose and grabbed plates and chopsticks to set the table. “Not sure it will ever be worth it, especially in Seoul.”

“Seoul?” You turned around to Hoseok and Jin, now seemingly done with the lights. For now. “You live in Seoul?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Hoseok asked, grabbing the glasses and water jar. Jin passed behind him and you to help his fiancée.

“Seocho-gu…”

“Seocho-gu??” Hoseok almost choked as he placed what he was carrying on the dining table, same as you. “I live there! Where?”

“Nambusunhwan-ro, in a street that leads to the Daehang Hospital.”

“That’s so close to where I live! Woah, the world is small!”

You pressed your lips and nodded slowly while setting the table alongside him. “And you work there too?”

“Not there, I teach in Hongdae.”

“You’re also a teacher?”

“Oh, you’re a teacher?”

You shook your head as Jin and Hyeonseo carried the many side dishes to the table. “Like Hyeonseo, I mean,” you clarified, working with everyone to finish everything and start eating.

It gave Hyeonseo the opportunity to talk about her school and kids, and finally sigh, “I’m happy I teach kids before they become teens.”

“Yeah, I teach adults. It’s much better,” Hoseok acknowledged before turning to you. “But you don’t teach.”

“No, I restore old items like furniture and chandeliers and sell them online.”

“Ohhhh.” Hoseok nodded. “That explains it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you teach?”

“I’m a dance instructor.”

You didn’t hide your surprise. “So you don’t work with your dad?”

“Fuck no,” he grumbled.

The conversation evolved in another direction, but you stayed behind, wondering if you ever knew Hoseok at all. You were friends for a year in high school; good friends, you’d say. You remembered him talking about his parents' divorce, for example, but not about the time he spent with his dad. You knew he enjoyed dancing, but you never knew he took it seriously. You realized after that you probably didn’t know him well, if he could blindside you like that, but now you were realizing you never knew him at all.

Everyone helped clean up, and while Jin put on music to cheer up the place, you couldn’t help but chuckle. He had pulled Hyeonseo to the middle of the room to dance while you and Hoseok handled the dirty dishes, and it was a sight to see.

“It’s our song!” she laughed as Jin swung her around. To call it dancing would probably be too much, but the song did say ‘shut up and dance with me’ multiple times.

You glanced at Hoseok, who was quietly next to you, just looking at them with a soft expression, and you guessed he remembered it too. Jin and Hyeonseo were always like this, all the way back in high school. They were the living proof that young love could grow and evolve into something beautiful.

Once you finished with the kitchen, you let Hoseok handle the painting with the couple while you turned to the stairs. You were already dreading the amount of time it would take and the stinky smell, but it was for a good cause.

You opened the windows up and downstairs, put on gloves, and then prepared the gel that would remove the paint. You decided to do two steps at a time, tread and riser, top to bottom, so that while one set had the solvent, you could already scrape the previous and not get burned. Grabbing your brush, you glanced at Hoseok, who was starting to paint the kitchen ceiling after they had spent some time protecting the cupboards and surfaces. He didn’t say anything about the stairs, and you sighed. Even he didn’t want to get involved.

You covered the first two steps with the gel and stepped away to breathe normal air for a second. After fifteen minutes, you started scraping the gel and paint with a spatula, and Hyeonseo clapped behind you.

“It’s working!!”

You glanced at her, then sighed. “This is going to take a while.”

“And now?” Hyeonseo asked behind you.

You sighed and turned to her, shutting off your electric sander and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt. She was clearly worried about you, and you didn’t have the energy to react whatsoever.

It had been seven hours since you started with the stairs, and you could feel Hyeonseo’s discomfort every time she checked up on you. First, she thought it would go really fast—until she realized you had to apply the solvent, wait twenty minutes, scrape it off, and clean the grime at least twice from every tread and riser. All fourteen steps.

You touched the diluent with your forearm, so that got you a small burn mark that she freaked out about. When you tried assuring her it wouldn’t happen again, she assumed it was because you were done. But you still had to sand everything multiple times.

So you had been using your electric sander for the past couple of hours. First with heavy grit, then medium grit, then fine grit. Hyeonseo had checked on you a couple of times, but she didn’t understand that you couldn’t stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to lift a finger anymore.

You put the electric sander down and passed your hand on the last step. “It’s going well.”

“Are you done?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“It’s almost eight… we were thinking of going out for dinner and checking out the festival.”

You suppressed a laugh. “Sure. Not sure I can survive that, but sure.”

Hyeonseo sighed while the men kept painting, now in the bathroom, you believed. “You’re not supposed to kill yourself doing this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate.”

You grabbed a pot of wood filler that matched the Korean pine wood color of the stairs and a putty knife, and climbed up the stairs again.

Hyeonseo’s eyes widened. “What are you doing now?!”

“Fixing your stairs,” you informed, getting to work filling every crack and hole you saw.

“But— The paint is gone, so—”

“Stop worrying,” you told her. “Let me do my thing.”

She sighed.

You opened your eyes and instantly groaned — shit, everything hurt.

Raising your head from the pillow, you looked around the dark room with a frown. You had fallen asleep. Shit.

Your eyes drifted to the closed door. What was that noise?

You got up from bed, feeling even more dead than when you lay down just for a minute to rest your eyes. That was a terrible idea, you mused as you got out of the bedroom and followed the noise.

What you found made you stagger atop the stairs. Hoseok was sitting on the second step of the stairs, counting from the bottom, using a delta sander to get the corners perfectly, judging by his gentle and precise technique.

You shook your head. “Wait,” you said, going down the stairs, and he stopped to look at you. “The filler has to dry.”

“And it did,” he agreed, grabbing a sheet of sandpaper to sand the nosing of the step.

You were baffled. “How long did I sleep?”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “About three hours.”

You cursed vilely. “And nobody woke me up?!”

“You needed the rest.”

“And you didn’t?!”

“Everybody took a nap,” he told you with a light smile, and your eyes widened.

“You too?”

He nodded. “You didn’t flinch when I lay down or when I got up.” You rubbed your eyes, slightly embarrassed, and he continued, “Jin and Hyeonseo are getting ready for dinner, and then it’s our turn.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”

“We’re going to a barbecue place,” he said casually, basically telling you not to worry, and you deflated. As long as you weren’t ruining anyone’s plans.

“What do you think?” you asked, kneeling to feel the texture of the stairs.

“You did a wonderful job,” he complimented, and you looked at him as he analyzed the details. “Stains are gone, every surface is smooth and balanced. You even picked the right color for the filler. A second sanding and it will basically become invisible.”

“It’s already pretty good,” you commented, scrutinizing the bigger patches you had fixed that were barely noticeable after Hoseok sanded once.

“Indeed.”

You felt the nosing of the step you were on and pressed your lips. “Thanks for the help.”

He got up, and you did the same, towering over him ever so slightly.

“Not a problem.”

Your eyes locked on his, and you didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, you were actually fine with him. Anger and frustration were no longer bubbling under your skin, making you believe you had moved on from what happened. Though the more your heart beat, the more you questioned how he drew you in like this.

“You were right, you know,” you whispered, and his eyes lowered to your lips. It likely didn’t mean anything, but your heart skipped a beat or two. “I should have started last night. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything properly so far without your help. And I’ve only started the closets and the stairs,” you remarked with a sigh. ”I don’t know how I’m going to do the doors as well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he instantly reassured you, raising his eyes to yours again. His tone was warm and intimate, and it made you shudder. “I’ll sand them tomorrow, and they can paint them later. They’re pros at it now.”

He said it jokingly, and you chuckled, letting that warmth envelop you.

He licked his lips. “I know how exhausting it can be, and we don’t have much time. So don’t worry about anything. Whatever you need, you can ask me.”

You searched his eyes and saw nothing but honesty, and your heart was unrestrained. Logically, you knew exactly what he was saying, but your stupid heart was still racing. You observed his features, both gentle and sharp, as he looked at you. You could swear his eyes had as much intensity as yours, but you had to doubt yourself. Were you still pining after Hoseok? Were you really over him if all it took was a few whispers for him to steal your heart again, even after so many years?

“Oh, you woke up!” Jin exclaimed from the top of the stairs, and you turned around. “You can go ahead and shower.”

You pressed your lips and eyed Hoseok before climbing up the stairs again.

You didn’t know how you got here.

“Come on!” Hoseok insisted with a lopsided smile and a glint in his eyes.

He held your hand and you blushed, stammering, “I can't…”

“Oh, come on!” he insisted. “I’ve already heard you snore. There are no secrets between us.”

You heard Jin and Hyeonseo laugh behind you, and let Hoseok drag you closer to the crowd of people dancing.

Thinking again, you knew how you got there. You all ate barbecue and had a few drinks, and now you were tipsy with a dance instructor insisting you should embarrass yourself in front of your friends. And what was worse, you didn’t mind.

He turned to you and grabbed your hand, spinning you once to loosen you up. “Just relax.”

You tried moving side to side along to the music, but you were no good. You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were nailed to the floor as he tried to get you to follow his lead with your hand. Suffice it to say it wasn’t working.

“It’s no use,” you told him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just no good.”

“Nonsense,” he breathed, pulling you close. The music shifted to something more commercial that you recognised, but didn’t pay much mind to. “Just hold onto me.”

He wrapped your arms around him, then wrapped his around your middle. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to look away, afraid your red cheeks would be too obvious. So you hugged his chest and let him swing you both to the song’s rhythm.

You closed your eyes, breathing in the earthy citrusy cologne while his firm chest acted as a pillow. Little by little, you relaxed, letting the moment sway you and take you. The lyrics spoke of running away and young love, and your mind blanked as he guided you ever so gently. His hips were moving to the beat, and although he wasn’t forcing you to match him, you found yourself doing it. Your hips had a mind of their own and swiveled to match his, and his posture changed.

You looked up at him, flushed and slightly embarrassed. You weren’t really just dancing with the way you were glued together. His body was firm, warm, relentless, pressed to you, never once leaving you behind. On the contrary, his hips responded to yours the same way his hands brushed up and down your body in feather-like touches, covering you with goosebumps all over.

What were you two doing?

“That’s it,” he murmured, and you looked up at him. He raised his fingers to brush your hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well.”

A familiar burn spread through your whole body, making you swallow dryly and lose sight of reality for a second. You wanted him. Your fingers curled around his neck, and his weren’t shy about pressing your waist. In another world, you would have kissed him already. You were burning, breathlessly swivelling your hips with him in a crowd, gushing between your legs, and eager to jump him. There was no way you felt all that without him feeling something. And on top of that, his eyes were fixed on you. He wasn’t looking away, or eager for it to be over. He was pressing you closer, guiding your bodies, breathing at the same tempo as you, licking his lips as though he wanted to taste you.

The music halted for a moment, and a message was broadcast through the speakers, but you weren’t paying attention. Hoseok hadn’t let you go; neither of you had moved.

While you pondered over what you could say, a voice from behind you snapped you back to reality.

“Woah! You’ll have to teach us how to dance like that for our wedding!”

Hoseok let go of you slowly, and you let him, loosening your grip as well. You wondered if his eyes held a question before they turned to your best friend.

“I will, don’t worry!” Hoseok replied with a grin. “Anyone can feel the rhythm. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” he answered, seemingly proud of himself, and you felt the flame inside you wither until it was snuffed out.

“Really?” Hyeonseo asked with a teasing tone, but you were no longer listening.

“Excuse me.”

You spun around, letting your feet take you as far away as possible. You frowned as you walked, confused about the feeling twisting your guts. So what if Hoseok was a good teacher and bragged about it? Why was that making you so furious?

Sitting on a street bench while the crowds passed you by, you took a deep breath. You knew why, even if it was hard to admit. You thought you two had something special. There was tension and want, and you believed you weren’t the only one feeling it. But you were. Again.

Suddenly, there were tears in your eyes. You felt seventeen again, crying and wondering where you went wrong. What you did wrong, what you interpreted wrong. But you were twenty three now, and you refused to go through the same shit for the same guy. Fuck that!

You didn't want to worry Hyeonseo, so you made your way back. You found them chatting in a way that made you think they were waiting for you to get back. You lied about going to the bathroom, and before you could reveal your intentions to leave, Hoseok grabbed your hand.

“Come on, let’s teach them together,” he proposed with a sparkly smile.

You pulled your hand free. “I don’t feel like it. I’m sure you can find someone else here to do that.” You turned to Jin and Hyeonseo with a small smile. “I’m going home. I’m really tired.”

Hyeonseo looked at Jin, who nodded. “Sure, we can all go—”

“No, I’ll go ahead. I already called a taxi.” You bit your tongue; since when did you lie so much? “You guys should enjoy yourselves a bit longer.”

You said your goodbyes quickly and were thankful Hyeonseo knew you well enough not to insist. She told you she’d text you the code to get inside the house, and you were on your way.

Growing up in Gwangju meant you knew exactly where the taxi street of the festival was, and you headed there without a second thought. Once there, you got in line — it was almost three am, so many people were already leaving.

Not even a minute later, you heard someone calling your name, and you turned, surprised. Hoseok was making his way to you in between people, and for a moment, your breath hitched. He looked dazzling in jeans and a leather jacket, his firm body framed perfectly. To think you were pressed to his firm chest, wrapped in those arms…

You could almost forget he made you feel like an idiot. Almost.

You were ready to ignore him, but he reached you quickly, bowing to the other people waiting in line.

“I almost lost you,” he complained, clearing his throat, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. Seeing you remained skeptical, he continued, “I didn’t mean you were easy or something.” He scratched the back of his head. “When I said I do it all the time—”

“You just meant that you can teach anyone,” you interjected stoically, and he paused.

He dropped his hand as the queue moved forward. “Right. So then, why are you upset? It’s why you’re leaving, right?”

Your lips twitched. “I’m not upset. I was just reminded of why we never got along in the first place.”

He frowned. “Never? That’s not even true.”

You rolled your eyes as you became the first in line. “Whatever.”

You could see out of the corner of your eyes the way he clenched his jaw and looked away before turning to you again. “Well, what is it? Maybe if we talked about it—”

“I don’t need to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I know everything I need to know.”

He huffed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other constantly as though his frustration was physical. “Doesn’t sound like you do,” he commented with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe if we talked you’d be able to form sound opinions instead of just assuming shit and acting like you know everything.”

Your eyes widened. “Assuming?! You literally just said it!”

“You’re making up whatever story in your head,” he insisted, eying you harshly. “You hear what you want to hear.”

You scoffed before you could help it. “Yeah, right!”

A taxi stopped in front of you right on time. You spun on your heels and got in, and Hoseok grabbed the door when you reached to close it.

Instantly, your eyes were locked in a mute argument. You even expected him to shut the door behind you, seeing as he was just as annoyed as you. Instead, he was preventing you from closing it.

“Miss?”

You couldn’t even turn to look at the driver; you couldn’t lose.

Hoseok stepped closer to the car and muttered, “Don’t be like this. Let me go with you.”

You gritted your teeth and seriously pondered kicking him in the shin and closing the door, leaving him there. It was only the thought of how Jin and Hyeonseo would have been disappointed that made you roll your eyes and swallow a grumble before letting go of the door and moving along in the backseat of the car.

You told the driver the address, and Hoseok rode in the taxi with you. Why was he even there? Surely not to make sure you made it safely. Although he might have promised that to Jin and Hyeonseo so they’d stay at the festival and enjoy themselves. He was likely just tired…but you’d be damned if you cared.

As soon as you entered Jin and Hyeonseo’s place, you stormed your way to the bedroom you were sharing. You changed clothes hastily, turned off the lights, and threw yourself over the bed diagonally, spreading the pillows around you and hugging a few. You’d be damned if you wouldn’t sleep properly tonight.

You couldn’t fall asleep. Hoseok entered the room not ten minutes later and you could feel the air thickening around you. By the time he hit your foot with his knee, the lights were back on and he was pissed.

“Move.”

You ignored him, and he bumped your foot with his knee multiple times.

“Move, I want to sleep.”

“Not my problem,” you grumbled, and he scoffed.

“Indeed, but you’re mine. Get out of the way.”

“No,” you grumbled again, muffled. “I’m withdrawing the invitation; you can sleep somewhere else.”

You could almost hear the way he was fuming. “You’re fucking unbelieveable, you know that?! First, you get angry and don’t want to talk about it. Then, you withdraw your invitation? Fuck! I can trust you my ass! You’re so two-faced!”

By the time he was done, you were sitting up in bed, baffled and angry. “What?!”

He had no issues facing you head-on. “You heard me. You extend an olive branch one second and shit all over people the next. I’ve never met anyone as two-faced as you.”

“How fucking dare you!” you screeched as you kicked the sheets to get up from bed. “You’re the one who plays people, pretending to be all vulnerable and hurt, only to use them and throw them away like trash! Who the fuck are you to call me two-faced?!”

His anger was visible on his clenched jaw and flared nostrils as you shouted at him. He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You scoffed. “As if you don’t know.”

He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I won’t know until you tell me! Stop assuming shit!”

“Stop playing dumb!”

“When did I?” he asked you to your face, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fall for it again.”

Hoseok groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, you’re just like back then! The second I think I can trust you, you flip a switch and turn into someone else completely!”

“What?”

“Hyeonseo said I had you all wrong, that it was all a misunderstanding, but she’s wrong,” he told you, facing you head-on again. His eyes were harsh, and his tone accusatory. “This is just who you are. It’s bad enough our paths crossed twice; let’s not do it again.”

He grabbed his bag from the floor and stormed off with you hot on his tail.

“What are you talking about?!”

You chased him all the way downstairs, then stood frozen as he went outside to his pickup to get a blanket. When he started to make a makeshift place to sleep in the corner of the living room, you lost it.

“Argh, you’re fucking impossible!” you exploded, gripping your hair by the roots. “I flipped a switch?! I literally go to the bathroom, and the next thing I know, you’re kissing someone! Right after telling me you were so heartbroken you couldn’t stand the thought of being with someone! Are you serious?!”

He had taken off his jacket and thrown it on the blanket. He snickered. “Next thing you know? My, do you have selective amnesia or something?”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“You didn’t go to the bathroom, did you?”

You were stunned. “What?”

“I heard you!” he accused, all signs of mockery morphed into anger. “I followed you to suggest holding your drink, only to hear you giggling with your friends about how pathetic I was.”

You paled but instantly shook your head. “I never said that.”

“Your friends did, and you just laughed! Two-faced,” he underlined.

You gaped, frowning as you tried to remember what he was talking about. “I was— I don't know, I— Maybe they did say that, I don’t remember. But I wouldn’t have.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bristled. He was so sure of himself, but what did it matter?

“What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t ‘flip a switch,’” you insisted. “They called you that, not me. So what does that have to do with what you did?”

“You thought I was so pathetic, and I just—” His expression soothed as his voice quieted. “I didn’t want to be.”

“You never were.”

He scoffed derisively, and you rubbed your eyes for a second, wanting to kick yourself.

“Listen, they just—even I, we were just…mean,” you explained with regret. You weren’t proud of who you were in high school. “Young and stupid and mean.”

Hoseok listened with harsh yet glistening eyes. “I opened my heart to you and you ran to tell them.”

“That is not true.”

You stiffened, and he instantly retorted, “Yeah, right.”

“I don’t care what you heard, that is not true,” you stated resolutely. “I never told anyone a word of what you told me. I might not have refuted them when they called you that, I might have played along, but I’d never break your trust.”

He had a painful smile, holding back a snicker as you spoke, until he blew up, “Oh, come on! You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“So you mean to tell me you went along with them and still never told them the things I told you when I believed we were friends.” You nodded, and he insisted, “You went along with them saying those things about me, but were still actually my friend.” You nodded again, and he threw his hands up in the air. “Does that even make sense?!”

“It’s the truth,” you repeated.

“Why would I believe you?”

Your breath hitched as you realized the answer to what he was asking. He was angry and maybe hurt; you could see it in his face. You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. You were talking, actually talking, for the first time in years. But you never expected it would mean you’d have to tell him this.

But then again, it didn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.

You pressed your lips to hide a sad smile. “Because it’s the truth. Not just because you had told me things as friends that I would never repeat to someone else, but because I didn’t want them to look at you twice, I…had this big fat crush on you and didn’t want any of them to get any ideas.”

He wasn’t just stupefied, you could see in his wide eyes that his thought process was completely busted. “What??”

It made you blush and rub your eyes again before you blurted, “We became closer friends when you opened up about your ex, and I… I didn’t want to make a move because it would have been too soon, and I didn’t want to be a rebound, but I was hoping we could… I don’t know,” you sighed, looking away, embarrassed. “But then you invited me to prom, so I thought maybe you were over her, so I thought what the hell, why not? I was so excited that night, just waiting for the right moment to say something, but then I saw you kissing whoever that was and I just—I was fucking pissed ‘cause that wasn’t even a rejection, that was… Why invite me to prom if you wanted to be with someone else? It just—”

You stopped yourself, feeling the anger bubbling up in your chest once more. You rubbed your eyes and sighed, calming down. He looked befuddled; he probably didn’t remember any of it.

“I didn’t,” he blurted out, and you looked at him. “That girl, I… I didn’t want to be with her; I didn’t even like her. I was just pissed after hearing you and your friends saying I was pathetic for being heartbroken over my ex and…I felt betrayed. You were literally the only girl I trusted at the time, who I thought…Who I wanted to spend time with. And then you said those things and I just…I didn’t want to be pathetic,” he admitted, heaving a deep breath. “That girl caught me alone and confessed, and when she kissed me, I felt…validated. Like I was not worthless. Of course, I told her I didn’t feel the same way, and she was cool about it. Otherwise, I would have felt pretty shity about it.”

“You were never worthless, much less because you had feelings. I’m glad she made you feel good about yourself.” You looked down, a frown on your lips. She did what you couldn’t. “Regardless of what they said, you were never pathetic. They were allergic to vulnerability and needed to be bitches about it, that’s all. Hell, me too. I’m sorry about that.”

He nodded with his shiny eyes focused on you. “Even if I know now how you felt at the time…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do with all of this information.”

You shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything, it’s in the past. Though…about today,” you started, then heaved a deep breath as you rubbed your pink cheeks. “I’m not gonna lie, it felt just like back then. There I am, thinking something special is happening, only for you to dismiss it like it’s nothing. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” you mimicked his voice, and he groaned.

“No, I knew it was bullshit as soon as I said it,” he confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Even Hyeonseo called me out for it.”

“‘Cause you realized it wasn’t that good to begin with, ‘cause I’m a terrible dancer?”

You spoke really fast, and he chuckled, “No, because it just isn’t true. The way we danced, especially when you’re not comfortable with it, is not easy. At all. Even seasoned dancers need months to be that smooth, sometimes even couples can’t do it, and you just— No, that was all us. I don’t do that all the time, it’s not something easy to teach.”

You frowned. “Dancing?”

“Chemistry.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him. You couldn’t help the confusion or the way your heart raced. “I thought…” you croaked, “it wasn’t real.”

His eyes were locked with yours. “I think we can agree that it is.”

Your breath deepened as a familiar burn climbed up your chest. The air was thickening again as you stared at each other, but you stayed in place. Even if you both agreed that there was chemistry between you, you weren’t sure what to do with it. You weren’t sure you wanted to follow through…or that he did.

When he stalked slowly in your direction, you stood at attention. Your skin tingled under his eyes, roaming over your legs, past your pajama shorts and t-shirt to your eyes. By then, he was already in front of you, less than an arm away, and you struggled. You were almost dizzy with want, pushing your nails into your palms to hold yourself back. When he took another step closer, the faint scent of his cologne made you sigh and look up. You were radiating heat at that point, keeping your desire in check while wanting nothing but for him to grab you.

He seemed to be waiting for something, so you closed the distance between your bodies. Your stomach pressed to his, and your curiosity got the best of you. You looked down, wondering if you’d get to feel—

His hand raised your chin to make you look up at him. Instantly, the fire you were trying to contain reared its ugly head. Your hands found their way to his shirt, clutching it as though you were containing a visceral need to pull it off, all while you looked into his eyes. Your core ached for something to clench around and you almost begged him to fuck that crisp tension out of you.

Your lips parted as he leaned in, covering you with a shudder as his free hand palmed your waist, pulling you to him by the arch of your back. But then, all too fast, you both blinked.

The sound of car doors slamming closed hit you, and time didn’t stop to let you two figure it out together. Instead, Hoseok’s eyes flickered to your lips, but you weren’t able to say anything. By the time the first key was pressed into the front door lock pad, he had already lowered his hands and released you.

You couldn’t protest because in a second, Jin was opening the front door with Hyeonseo not far behind him.

“Oh, hey guys,” Jin said with a smile, then closed the door behind his fiancée. “We thought you’d be sleeping already.”

“Is everything okay?” Hyeonseo asked, eying you as she took off her jacket.

“Yes,” you croaked.

“We were just heading to bed,” Hoseok told them, then gave you a fleeting look before going ahead. “Good night!”

You offered Hyeonseo a small smile to reassure her and waved at Jin before following Hoseok upstairs. You closed the bedroom door behind you, and seeing the mess of pillows and sheets you had left behind, you were a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you muttered, getting on the bed to align the pillows and pull the sheet to lie stretched and proper. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just pissed.”

For a second, he frowned, but then he seemed to remember. “If you want me to sleep downstairs—”

“I don’t,” you cut in, sitting on your side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have… assumed the worst.”

“That I’m two-faced?”

He hummed as he neared the bed.

“So you…also assume things?”

Your tease made him chuckle. “I guess I’m at fault, too.”

You smiled and got under the sheet comfortably. Only then did you notice he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

“I left my bag downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, imagining Hyeonseo’s questions if she saw Hoseok with his bag. “And you don’t want to go grab it?”

“Not really.”

He stepped out of his shoes, then sighed, putting one knee on the bed, and you stopped him. “Get them off.”

He raised an eyebrow, and you looked at his jeans.

“You shouldn’t get in bed with outside clothes.”

He looked down at your legs under the sheets, then back at you, and you simply held his gaze. Now that you had found common ground, you were confident that teasing him a little wouldn’t hurt.

It helped that Hoseok was precisely the kind of man who made your knees weak. You asked, and so he got rid of his jeans in a flash, casually tossing them and his t-shirt back before getting into bed with you just in boxers. As if his chiseled abs wouldn’t have you drooling. As if he weren’t half-hard. As if he didn’t know you’d eat him with your eyes. As if he didn’t want you to.

You both lay back on your pillows, and your eyelids became heavy. The light was still on, but you were comfortable and warm, and all of a sudden, it was hard to keep your eyes open. You still wanted Hoseok, but you were so tired, you were getting dizzy.

You felt his eyes on you and turned to him with a sheepish smile. “I’m really tired,” you confessed, and he nodded.

“Same, I’m hanging on by a thread.”

You smiled and licked your lips. “Can I…?”

“Hug me to sleep?”

He raised an eyebrow and your eyes widened as you gasped. Did he know about last night?!

He simply smirked. “Yeah, come here. Oh, wait,” he told you before reaching the light switch on the wall. Then he settled back and grabbed your hand over the sheet, pulling you closer. You snuggled up to him, then sighed comfortably, and he held you close.

You woke up snuggly and warm, with a citrusy perfume near your nose and your legs tangled with someone else’s. You didn’t question it, stretching lazily before pulling away slightly. You slept like a rock, but still felt the exhaustion from the previous day. Just thinking you had another day like it ahead of you made you groan under your breath.

Hoseok turned around to face you, and it made you blink a bit more awake. He looked raw and vulnerable, with his hair disheveled and eyes barely open. Instantly, it made you feel a little breathless, a little hot, and a little exposed.

“Hey,” he whispered, and your cheeks warmed.

“Hey,” you rasped back, covering your face with your hands. “I must look horrible.”

He chuckled. “You look the same as always.”

You peeked between your fingers. “So I always look terrible?”

He was caught off guard and laughed quietly. “No, you never do.”

You lowered your hands and stayed like that, just observing one another, until you asked quietly. “We were friends… How come you never told me about your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“You talked about the divorce, your sister, your mom, your ex… but not about your dad.”

He looked down for a moment before answering, “I just… didn’t want to talk about him. Our relationship was always…complicated. He left my mom, and then he would insist on taking me to construction sites for long weekends and vacations so I could learn the trade. He refused to listen to what I wanted. Meanwhile, my mom worked two jobs to support my dreams of becoming a dancer. She pushed me to go to Seoul and supported me while my dad all but threatened to disown me if I followed my dreams.” His expression hinted at bitterness before he looked at you again. “You can imagine I didn’t want to talk about him.”

You nodded. “And now?”

“He’s changed,” Hoseok acknowledged softly. “I think he accepted that it’s up to me to do what I want to do and that I’m good enough to do it. So we’re okay now. I see him a couple of times a year.” You nodded, and he quieted. “What about you? I remember your mom was sick five years ago.”

“She was, she’s been in remission for three years. My parents moved to Jeju Island to have a peaceful life there, and I’m hoping that will help.”

“You must miss them.”

“I do… Feels like everyone is super far away now.”

“But as it turns out, we live in the same neighbourhood,” he reminded you, and you raised a corner of your mouth.

“So it seems.”

“You can call me, you know,” he offered. “If you need anything.”

Your face was warm. “Thank you.”

“You can also call me just… Just because. If you want to.”

You weren’t used to seeing Hoseok hesitate, and yet, somehow, it made you relax. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he asked, as though he couldn’t believe your answer, and you grinned.

“Maybe,” you teased, and he smirked. You felt warm again, seeing that smile, but also incredibly at ease.

His eyes returned to yours with a sharper edge to them, and you were instantly stirred up.

“You had a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes roamed your features for a brief moment. “I wish the timing were different.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “I was not the greatest person back then.”

“And now?” He raised an eyebrow, and you chuckled.

“Still a work in progress.”

He nodded, smiling too. “I wasn't great back then either. I was insecure. Thought my world was ending when my ex left, and that I had to be in a relationship to mean something.”

You nodded slowly. “Was that why you dated so many people afterwards?”

“It’s also the way people act. I don’t know about you, but my friends are constantly dating someone.”

You shrugged. “If you call that dating. I don’t get the obsession with saying you’re dating when you know it’s going to last a couple of weeks tops.”

“It has to be serious enough to avoid a stigma, but not serious enough ‘cause a relationship takes too much work.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, exactly. Well said!”

“Thanks. It’s my conclusion after years of therapy to process how my parents’ divorce made me link my self-worth to my relationship status.”

Your chin dropped. “Woah!”

He smiled. “Once I realized I was following a pattern, I thought therapy would help. I had internalized that being alone meant I was less, without realizing that I didn’t even want to be with some of those people. I just said yes so I wouldn’t be alone.”

You pressed your lips. “And now?”

“I’ve been single for two years, and it’s nice.” He smiled, stretching a bit before asking, “And you?”

“I haven’t really thought much about dating,” you admitted, shrugging. “I’ve been developing my business for a year, and it takes most of my time.”

“That makes sense,” he said, adjusting the pillow under his head.

“Some pillow talk we’re having,” you joked, and he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, did I make things weird?”

“No, not at all. It reminds me of when we were friends.”

You remembered all the breaks you would spend just the two of you talking at the back of the school or in some park.

“Maybe that’s why it's so easy to talk to you,” he mused, observing your expression.

“You mean you don’t talk about this with every girl you get in bed?”

“No,” he stated, then joined you in laughing quietly. “Also, you got me in bed.”

“That’s true. Had to take charge,” you confessed with mock modesty. “Now, I have you right where I want you.”

“Do you?”

Your smile dissipated when you realized what you had said and how he was looking at you. Instantly, heat spread from your cheeks down your neck, and you had to swallow. “I—I mean, not that I’d force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You mean besides forcing me to strip before getting into bed?”

You almost choked. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know.” He smiled, and his hand moved near yours over the sheet, but he didn’t touch you. “If last night was an isolated thing, that’s okay. It’s cool, I promise.”

You instantly remembered the way his hand pressed you, arching your back and hitching your breath. “It wasn’t…I mean, it wasn’t alcohol or anything like that,” you said, your voice more and more quiet as the tension spread down your neck. “If anything, it feels like whenever we’re together, we…”

“Have chemistry?”

You hummed.

“Was it like this in high school? And I was just blind to it?” he asked in disbelief.

“It wasn’t like this… Wanting to kiss you and wanting you are two different things,” you explained, despite feeling like you were dipping into dangerous waters.

“So you want me?” he asked, and you felt almost assaulted by his dark, meaningful eyes. Your core clenched around nothing at the thought of being under this man. The way he turned you on was wild.

“I do…” As soon as the admission was out of your lips, he moved closer, and you had to put your hands on his chest to stop him. “But we’re not alone.”

Your tone was firm, more to tame your desires than to stop him, but he still halted. He was close enough that you could see the moles on his face, but he had yet to touch you.

He eyed you intently. “And if we were?”

“We’re not…”

“But if we were?” he insisted.

You swallowed, rubbing your legs together. “I already told you I want you.”

His lips curved in a tease. “I want to hear what else you want.”

You raised your chin. “You haven’t told me what you want yet.”

“I’ll tell you, then,” he whispered, making you shudder from head to toe. He got up on his elbow, and you rolled to face up. “I want to look at you. I want you to take your clothes off for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “If only you had asked before…”

“I still can.”

You hummed, unashamedly running your eyes down his exposed torso. He didn’t have the broadest shoulders, but every piece of him was defined and soft, like a taunt for you to scratch and bite. It was torture to see all that flesh but not touch it.

“I want you to touch me,” he spoke again, drawing your gaze up. “I want you to touch me and grab me with the same hunger you have in your eyes right now.”

You let out a small, tense breath as you eyed his chest again, unabashedly taking advantage. “And then?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

You chuckled. “I might need ideas to spice up my shower.”

He groaned mutely, then gently tucked the sheet to frame your silhouette without touching you. It made your body temperature surge as you let him find his way to seeing your form without stripping you. The more he observed and wondered, the more sensual and wanted you felt. You didn’t know if you wanted to rub your legs together or spread them open for him.

“I want to touch you,” he breathed, then looked at you. “Lick and feel every curve until I know you by heart. I want to eat you out. I want to know how you taste, wet like that for me.”

Your eyebrow quirked, but you stayed quiet, letting his words burn you a bit more intensely than his presence alone did.

“I want your hips on me again. Need to appreciate the way they match mine.” His eyes caught you opening your legs under the sheets, but you didn’t close them. “And I want to fuck you. I can’t hide it,” he whispered, adjusting his posture as though he was eager to get in between your legs, if only you let him. “I need to know what you look like when I fuck all sense out of you.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” you breathed, sneaking your hands down your stomach.

“You—”

A bang interrupted him and covered you with goosebumps from head to toe.

Neither of you breathed as you waited patiently for the sound of a car engine to roar to life, and then for it to move away from the driveway.

Your eyes were locked, both surely thinking the exact same thing — Jin and Hyeonseo were likely gone to grab breakfast. You were alone.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his muscles flexing as he stayed in place.

“You.”

“Don’t just say that,” he scolded lightly, adjusting himself on his knees.

“It’s what I want,” you insisted, more than aching for him. “I want everything you said.” You leaned in a bit. “Make me scream your name.”

He ripped the sheet from over you and froze. You bit your lip but couldn’t find it in you to look innocent. Not when your hand was buried in your sex.

“I can’t believe you,” he breathed before throwing the sheet to the end of the bed.

“You never said I couldn’t,” you argued, giving up on solo pleasure when you could have him.

He caught your wrist as he settled between your legs. “I said I want you.”

“And I want you, too. Hey,” you called, letting your voice register lower. “I’d let you watch.”

He shook his head and forced your wrist to the mattress next to your head as he covered your body with his to reach your lips. His mouth wasn’t soft at the dawn of a first kiss; it was rough and helpless with want. Your free hand instantly gripped his hair, keeping him close as your bodies adjusted to each other, and in a second, your world was overturned.

He didn’t just take two seconds to push his tongue inside you; he took two seconds to melt you to a liquid state. In a split second, he was kissing you like he owned you, matching every whimper and sigh with more. If you needed to breathe, he bit your lip. If you needed to moan, he swallowed it.

He wasn’t shy about pressing his cock to your thigh, nor about palming your curves as he said he would. You could only shudder and whimper with the way he touched and squeezed you, especially when he grabbed your ass. He even parted your mouths to hide in the crook of your neck and have both hands free to squeeze your asscheeks, pressing you to him.

You had to moan, swiveling your hips to get friction.

“You and your perfect ass,” he grumbled, giving it a few more squeezes. “On the ladder, the stairs, last night… Fucking tease.”

“Didn’t know you were staring,” you breathed, and he raised his head.

“Didn’t you?”

“No. No, trust me.” You smiled, gyrating your hips as you cradled his cheeks. “Or I would have made it much worse.”

He let his mouth crash to yours harshly before pulling away. “You fucking tease… I’ll take my time with you—”

“No,” you cut in, holding his head so he’d look at you. “We don’t know how long we have.” You could see Hoseok’s gears turning, so you insisted, “You have to fuck me. I need to feel you. I need you to fuck this tension out of me.” He groaned, and you didn’t give up. “Need you to make me scream your name while creaming your cock. It will be therapeutic,” you promised, earning a smirk. “Please.”

It took Hoseok one second to ponder your request. The next, he was already on his knees.

“Take them off.”

“What?”

“Take them off,” he repeated, glancing at your shorts. His hands dipped inside his boxers to stroke himself, and you almost melted at the sight.

Instead, you swallowed. “We don't have much time.”

“Get your clothes off before I rip them off.”

Heat flushed through you as you gushed between your legs, and you scrambled to as he asked. Normally, you’d like that moment to be sensual, but all you could think of was Hoseok between your legs.

He clearly was thinking of that too, because as you got rid of your pajama t-shirt and shorts and underwear, he kept stroking himself in front of you. He wasn’t shy about grunting, licking his lips, cursing, or spreading the precum on the tip of his dick right under your hungry eyes. Especially when you leaned back down and spread your legs for him.

“Holy shit,” he almost choked, falling to his elbows on the bed right before pressing his face to your wet cunt.

Your moan echoed in the empty room as you clenched from the surprise. Your hands gripped his hair firmly, and you cursed yourself, bucking your hips against his starving mouth. You watched him eating you out, groaning into you as he drooled all over your slicked folds. That was such a power trip for some reason. Like you knew you were his kryptonite, like you knew he should have been fucking for years, like you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you as soon as he tasted you.

But the past didn’t matter; you need him now.

“Fuck, Hoseok, wait,” you breathed between moans, finding it hard to not press his face to your sopping pussy.

He hummed, and you tried sorting out your thoughts.

“We don’t know how long we have,” you reminded him, cursing him when his tongue started drumming on your clit. “Fuck! You either fuck me now, or—!”

You keened desperately when three digits pushed through your warm walls, stretching you with a few pumps. Looking at him, his eyes were almost wicked as he saw you trying not to writhe in pleasure.

“So bossy…” he commented, licking his lips. “Lucky we’re in a hurry.”

You whimpered and curled your toes with the way he fucked you with his fingers, but stayed otherwise quiet because he grabbed his hard cock in his other hand.

“It’s a shame, really,” you breathed, and he surely thought you were teasing him, because he quickly leaned in to nip a nipple, making you jolt. “I also didn’t get to touch you and grab you.”

“Can still make it happen,” he told you, sitting back between your legs with his cock still in his hand.

You smiled. “That sounds good,” you breathed, reaching out to meet his busy hand.

While he looked down at your hand taking over from his, stroking him gently, you observed his reactions. The way his eyes hooded, or his lip raised, containing a moan when you squeezed a little more. He enjoyed watching what you were doing, and you enjoyed watching him. Even when his fingers inside you lost focus, you were set on that one goal — to see him fall apart.

“So hard,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Come on,” you coaxed, slowly pulling him by his dick to close the gap between you.

He followed your lead, removing his fingers from your sopping pussy to replace them with the tip of his cock. He moaned quietly then, as he rubbed his shaft on your slick, hungrily passing a heavy hand up your stomach to your chest. He pinched a nipple just to tease you, then pressed the head of his cock through your entrance.

You couldn’t even catch your breath, whimpering uninterruptedly as your core hugged the head of his cock. You cursed him, feeling your legs trembling as you spread them as much as you could. Your core throbbed wildly with the stretch, and you thought that was the peak for you, but then he topped it off with his fingers on your clit.

You finally let go and arched your back, so completely overturned by pleasure, you felt like you were in a tempestuous sea. You couldn’t suppress your moans, hold back the way you gripped the sheets or moved to sink further down his cock. Instead, you mumbled incoherently, begging him to poke your insides, but he smiled and kept fucking you exactly like this.

“I don’t know,” he taunted, but you could see the sweat trickling down his temple as he held back. “I think you can cum just with the tip.”

“Fuck, I can— But I want you whole— I didn’t say make me cum,” you pointed out a bit more firmly than your previous moans. “I said, make me scream your name.”

He growled your name, then gripped your hips and fell over you, sinking as far inside you as he could, bottoming out with a groan. You could only scream and throw your head back, letting the pain mix with the delight of having him tucked to the base inside you. It was so good, your nails were piercing the sheets as you clenched like a vice around him.

Looking at him, you knew you had a victorious look on your face. He smirked. “Got what you wanted all along, huh?”

“Not yet,” you breathed, then locked your legs behind him. “Fuck me, Hoseok. Please—”

He grabbed your legs further up around his waist, then finally gave in and gave you exactly what you wanted. Everything heightened your senses so much that you were speechless, finally rid of all your thoughts and judgments. The way he breathed heavily into your neck, stealing nips and licks while hearing you moan attentively. The way he gripped your asscheeks to fuck you as deeply as possible, groaning mutely against your skin. He wanted you, craved you, just like you craved him. The slap of skins, the sloppy mess between your bodies, the citrus cologne as you bit his shoulder — that was what dreams were made of.

You knew you wouldn’t hold for long, but you didn’t expect to last minutes. You were in the zone, matching your hips to his, when he bit your neck hard. Your hands instantly darted to grab him, your nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders, but still, he didn’t release you. Instead, he rutted into you like he needed to fuck you. Like he was in too deep to stop. Like he knew you needed to take his cock just once more before you’d fall apart.

You wanted to scream his name, and it was the first thing out of your mouth as soon as the wildfire spread through you in waves. You were surprised when his hand darted to cover your mouth, but he didn’t stop pounding into you, and so if anything, you came even harder. His mouth replaced his hand once you became breathless, gently kissing you and coaxing the last quakes out of you, until you stilled.

Your senses returned to you slowly, and two things were immediately clear to you: one, Hoseok was still hard as fuck inside you, and two, you were no longer alone.

“Fuckin hell,” he cursed, moving ever so gently inside you, and your hands darted to his asscheeks to stop him.

“They’re here?!” you whispered, suddenly so anxious your chest felt tight. You could hear faint noises from downstairs.

“You didn’t hear them coming in?” he asked, surprised. You were clearly spooked, so he reassured you, brushing your cheek gently, “The door slammed like seconds into your orgasm. I didn’t want to ruin it for you, so I didn’t stop.”

You gasped. “What if they heard?!”

“They didn’t.” You gave him a look, and he kept reassuring you, “They didn’t. I covered your mouth, I promise you they didn’t hear a thing.” You heaved a breath, hugging him, and he nuzzled your hair. “But I did… you sounded so fucking hot, I almost burst. Fuckin hell,” he groaned, moving once tentatively inside you. “Fuckin heaven, rather,” he corrected himself, then pulled away to look at you. “But I know you’ll want to stop—”

Your hands darted to his ass again, this time to prevent him from pulling out, at the same time your phone buzzed on the floor next to the bed. You didn’t even glance away; your eyes locked with his as they were. You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t explain.

“What?” he asked, eying you curiously.

Your phone buzzed again, and you whispered, “If they can’t hear it…”

Your voice trailed off as you bit your lip, and he chuckled darkly, leaning back in to nuzzle you. “Then what?”

“Then why stop?”

He laughed a bit more, quietly dragging his nose down your neck. “You naughty girl… I love that idea,” he whispered, withdrawing his hips for a moment before sinking into you again.

You had to curl your toes and bite your lip, but suddenly, you were exhilarated. You felt dirty, but it was so good to have him fucking you slowly while you tried your best not to make a sound. Your eyes stayed locked, spreading a hellish fire down your chest because he saw you. He saw you taking his cock, fighting the urge to moan and let the world know how good he felt. He knew how turned on you were from fucking under people’s noses like this. And all it did was make him fuck you harder, wanting to spill all his cum inside a little whore like you—

You could swear a second orgasm was right within your grasp when you heard voices talking loudly downstairs. Hoseok halted this time, looking at you while he listened attentively. Then, your phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t ignore it.

Hoseok almost slipped out of you as you contorted yourself to reach the bloody thing on the floor. Then you gasped.

Hyeonseo had texted you multiple times:

[Are you okay?] 2:43

[Are you hungover? I can make soup.] 9:12

[We got breakfast.] 9:39

[You can come down.] 10:01

[Are you okay? You’re still not up yet.] 10:03

You heard steps on the stairs and hurried to type:

[I’m fine, gonna shower first. Hoseok is still asleep.] 10:04

You looked at him with eyes like saucers, and he didn’t react. He stayed still, listening to Hyeonseo turning back down the stairs and telling Jin something.

“I told her I’d shower first and that you’re still asleep,” you informed him, rubbing your eyes. What the hell were you thinking?

“Okay, good,” he breathed, then pressed a kiss to your lips.

His hips instantly moved again, slowly but breathtakingly, and you knitted your eyebrows to keep quiet. You grabbed onto him while he fucked you, snapping his hips to yours with such precision, you started seeing stars. You were so turned on, the sloppy, gushing sounds where your bodies met thrilled you even more.

“I wonder if she had called you,” he whispered before licking up the column of your neck to reach your ear. “Wonder how you would have reacted, trying to talk to her while I fuck you like this.”

You licked your lips, eyes closed, shuddering from head to toe at the thought. “Maybe next time,” you said, though your voice broke apart.

Hoseok smiled at you and pressed his lips to yours firmly, halting his thrusts completely. You sighed into the kiss, imagining he’d continue, but he pulled out and away, getting up from bed.

You sulked instantly. Usually, you were very uptight about your privacy and behavior, but right now, you wanted to finish what you both had started.

You were about to open your mouth when Hoseok said, “Let’s get you in the shower.”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

He was already back in his boxers, his hand out for you to grab. “Don’t argue with me.”

You sulked further. You thought he was done, and it soured your mood.

So you put your hand in his and let him pull you up to your feet with a huge pout. It just didn’t feel right to—

Hoseok stole a kiss from you, then grabbed a folded towel nearby and wrapped it around you, making you raise an eyebrow while he smirked. “Stay quiet.”

You tucked the towel more firmly around you as he led you out of the room. Once out, you could hear Jin and Hyeonseo cooking while music played in the background, likely from one of their phones.

Hoseok pulled you by the hand to the bathroom and, to your surprise, closed and locked the door behind him. Then, he gently pushed you into the walk-in shower. You stumbled back, eyes fixed on his, wondering what he was up to.

In a flash, his hand grabbed your towel and maneuvered you against the sidewall of the shower. Your back hit the cold tiles while he caged you in, making your knees weak in anticipation. All he had to do was stretch his arm and start the shower, and you were both unleashed.

You gasped as the water spray barely caught your leg, but you had no time to think about it because he kissed you. You dared to breathe more heavily and even to whimper when he pulled your towel loose, his hands instantly grabbing your tits to pinch your nipples. He swallowed your cries, ever so mindful, and it made you gush even more. This was a man who wanted to be with you, was willing to be risqué, but still took your limits as a priority. You just wanted him even more.

As his hands trailed your sides, his mouth followed, licking every inch of skin within reach. It made you close your eyes as you leaned back against the wall, letting every touch send shivers down your spine. He kneeled in front of you, licking and nibbling, then he looked up at you before reaching your sex. Made you clench right in front of him before his lips ever touched yours. You even blushed at how much you wanted him to do crazy things to you.

As though he had heard your thoughts, he smirked and tilted your body to show him your side. Instantly, he bit your round hip, making you bite your own fist not to make a sound. The pain mixed with a pleasurable sting stunned you so much that you were nimble in his hands as he turned you around. Then, he spread your legs and asscheeks, pulling you to him, and in a second, your moan echoed in the bathroom.

He pulled his mouth away from your dripping folds. “You have to be quiet,” he warned you, and you nodded, covering your mouth as he dove in again.

His mouth on your slit was something sinful. The way he grabbed your hips to fall back on his face, and the way your hips urged you to follow, was demented. You could barely spare a thought for how important it was to keep your mouth shut.

He must have realized it, because soon after, he got up behind you, covering your arched back with his chest to reach your ear. “Something for next time,” he suggested, biting your earlobe. “Want you to touch yourself at the same time and come, but I think you’ll be too loud.”

You could only catch your breath and look at him over your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he cooed, turning your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “Don’t say sorry. I like the thought of doing this again.”

You looked at him, blushing even more if that was possible, while he just smiled at you.

Then, you felt his fingers gently rubbing your clit. “Can I?”

You nodded instantly, kissing him to stifle your whimpers as he kept caressing you. You were dazed, at the mercy of his wishes, and when he pressed the tip of his cock to your core, you easily groaned in bliss.

You pressed your hips flush to his, making him take a deep breath near your ear as you appreciated being full again.

“Fuckin heaven,” he muttured to your ear before grabbing your hips.

For a second, you thought you’d lose all sense of reason, but you were sensible enough to put your hand on the wall and press your mouth to it as Hoseok slammed his cock into you again and again. At times, you pressed your forehead instead, but the way he pushed inside you made it almost impossible to hold back your cries. It was everything, both in its entirety and in the details. The way he was holding his breath while pouding into you as though your cunt was the best he had ever fucked. Or maybe the way he grabbed you, muttering how your ass was perfect and your wet pussy was heaven. And then, perhaps it was the way he tried not to cum, pressing you flat to the wall as he kissed your face. As he made it personal by making you cream his cock thoroughly as he slowed his thrusts.

“Can you cum again?” he almost groaned, swiveling his hips.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“How?”

“Fingers.”

He licked and nipped down your neck, and you weren’t sure he heard you. But surely enough, his fingers found your clit and rubbed in circles.

“Good?”

“Up and down,” you stammered as you shuddered, your nails looking for something on the wall to hold onto, but there was nothing.

As soon as his hand moved as you requested, you tensed from head to toe.

“Fuck,” he groaned behind you, pushing himself even further inside you. He was so deep, you could feel him in your throat. “You feel so good,” he grunted. “Close? I won’t last long.”

“Just—” You could barely breathe. You let your head fall back to his shoulder. “Just undo me.”

He kissed your neck before supporting himself on the wall with his free hand, and the way he moved was just different. He wasn’t trying to fuck you as quick and hard as possible, it was something else. His fingers were attentive to move as you had asked, bringing you so close with a simple rub that your toes were curling. But it was also the way he covered you like a cape, moved his hips with you to deepen the feeling, making you constantly feel like all you breathed, tasted, and felt was him. To the point that all you needed was a little push, so you moved closer to the wall, exposing your neck while you tried to grab his hand taking support there.

He didn’t get it at first, thinking you wanted him to cover your mouth for your orgasm. So you had to pull on his hand until you tucked it snugly around your throat, and then he got it. He pressed you by the neck to him, and you were finally tucked in. Exposed and vulnerable, while safe and thoroughly fucked.

In that position and with his hands all over you, you didn’t need much to cum. The fire building between your legs was uncontrollable, and the way he poked your insides, bliss. A few thrusts deep inside you, making you moan desperately, and you unravelled. You had a mind to cover your mouth to stifle the cries, greedily meeting him thrust for thrust to make the climax last as much as possible.

Because of this, you almost prevented him from pulling out. He had to hold your waist so you wouldn’t fall back on his dick, making him cum inside you. You looked at him as you felt him cumming over your ass and in your fucked out daze, you thought he was wonderful. Just very fucking wonderful as he groaned and shuddered, spurting ropes of cum on your skin.

When he opened his eyes to meet yours, you smiled, and he kissed you. Not once, not twice, just so many gentle kisses, you forgot about the world.

“Are you okay?” he asked the moment he pulled away to look at you.

“Perfect, you?”

He chuckled and brushed your cheek. “You could say that.”

You wouldn’t complain about having his lips on yours again, but you still gasped when you felt the water touch your arm. It shouldn’t have surprised you, you knew the shower was running next to you, but still. You were too much in your daze.

“Shower, remember?” he whispered, and you sighed, shifting to stand under the stream fully. You wiped the water out of your eyes as he turned you around, stealing another kiss. “I’ll see you after?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, and stood there as you watched him leave the bathroom.

You weren’t exactly sure how, but you were just getting started. You were just with him, and all you could think about was being with him again. This time, in your apartment, with nothing but neighbours whom you didn’t give a shit about to feel inconvenienced by you fucking him without restrictions. All day, all night, until you got that horny bug out of you. If ever.

“Okay, but won’t you listen to me?” you asked Jin with a huff as you dragged your luggage outside.

“How about you come and do that some other weekend? Before the wedding, preferably,” Jin suggested, and you shook your head in disbelief.

Yet before you could say anything, Hoseok tapped your shoulder. “May I?”

You looked at him, and he tapped you again. “Oh, right,” you agreed, giving him your backpack, which he proceeded to load into his pickup along with your luggage. You turned back to Jin. “It’s unlikely that I will be able to.”

“And if Hobi does it?” Hyeonseo suggested, coming outside with a few snacks for you to take on your trip back.

“I might not have the time, so listen to her,” Hoseok shouted from his pickup, and Jin sighed.

Once more, you thoroughly explained how to apply the finish on the stairs; only the most essential step. “Do it as soon as you can before stepping on it damages the surface. I’d say as soon as you get your couch tomorrow. It takes a few days, but then you have beautiful stairs for a lifetime.”

Jin mumbled something you didn’t get, and Hyeonseo patted his shoulder. “We’ll do it, don’t worry. That’s all that’s left, right?”

“Yup, the closets are done. The stairs almost,” you said with a bit of a grimace. “The doors…”

“Sanded, you guys can paint them tomorrow,” Hoseok said, joining you. “All the lights, the stove, and the ceilings are done. Now you can paint what is left, you will be done tomorrow for sure.”

“Did you add the silicone sealant in the shower downstairs?” you asked, remembering suddenly, and he nodded.

“Yup, all done.”

Hyeonseo had tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much, guys, you’ve done so much for us!”

“Now, make sure to take care of the place,” Hoseok teased Jin with a look.

“Maybe we’ll invite you over once a year. Just to catch up,” Jin suggested angelically, and Hyeonseo elbowed him. Everyone chuckled. “You two seem to be getting along much better now,” Jin noted, scratching his chin. “So tell me: did Hobi ever promise not to bite you?”

“Jin!” Hyeonseo gasped.

“It does help to settle boundaries from the start.”

They started bickering, and you subtly closed your jacket lapels a bit more. You weren’t sure that was an innocent comment, given that you had a few marks around your neck.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hyeonseo sighed, then turned to you and Hoseok again. “You sure it’s okay to take her to the bus station?”

“Of course! Not a problem at all,” Hoseok reassured her with a smile. “Should we get going? I still plan on returning to Seoul tonight.”

You nodded and hugged Hyeonseo. “Thank you for dinner and for everything. See you soon!”

You also hugged Jin, ignoring his quips, then made your way to Hoseok’s pickup. You sat shotgun and instantly let it sink in: Hyeonseo and Jin were waving at you as Hoseok got into the driver's seat next to you. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat all so easily. You, sitting there, pretending you tolerated a man you not only had balls deep inside you earlier this morning, but intended to have again as soon as possible.

“You good?” he asked as he prepared everything, including the temperature, GPS, and music. You nodded, ready, and he glanced at you. “You know, we live in the same neighbourhood in Seoul. If you want, I can take you. I just have to drop off the pickup at my dad’s and get my car.” You stayed quiet as he buckled his seatbelt. Then, he looked at you. “If you’re comfortable.”

“You want to be with me inside a car for three hours?”

You raised an eyebrow teasingly, and he chuckled. “Actually, close to four with the detour. But there are worse things. I enjoy the company.”

You nodded and waved again at the couple while Hoseok drove you out of the driveway and away.

At the house, Hyeonseo and Jin waved until your car disappeared.

Then Hyeonseo asked, “Did we succeed?”

Jin nodded. “Yes, we did!”

Hyeonseo raised her hand, and Jin instantly high-fived her. “Mission accomplished.”

310 notes · View notes

ikwon1c · 21 days ago

Text

Oh Mom

my entry for the gd & top writing event! oh mom has always had that soft tug on my heart, so i wanted to write something angsty and a little aching TT

make sure to read all the other amazing works too!

pairing: choi seunghyun x y/n

summary: an overworked idol meets a quiet girl at the park. he doesn’t know she’s running out of time — only that being with her feels like breathing again.

tags and warnings: idol x reader, angst, slow burn, emotional hurt/comfort, eventual grief, mention of terminal illness, quiet intimacy, unspoken feelings

The rain had stopped, but the world hadn’t noticed yet. A soft sheen still covered the sidewalks like a second skin. Drops clung to the underside of tree branches, fell in lazy intervals from the eaves of the park’s old stone gazebo, and pooled in forgotten corners of concrete where the city always seemed to sag.

Choi Seunghyun walked with his hood up, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, boots splashing quietly through shallow puddles. It was the kind of day that didn’t ask anything of you. No expectations. No noise. Just gray skies and the sharp, clean scent of petrichor that made it easier to breathe than usual.

He liked that — the quiet. Lately, life didn’t give it to him much. As he turned a corner along the park’s edge, he caught sight of someone.

At first, she blended in. Just another figure on a bench, head bent low, still as the stone behind her. She was hunched over a thick sketchbook, one leg drawn up, the other dangling. Her hoodie was oversized and soaked at the hem, black cotton heavy with dampness. Wisps of hair clung to the sides of her face, and her sneakers — cheap ones, canvas and torn were darkened by water. She looked… tired. But not in a fragile way.

In a fierce way. Like someone who didn’t care what the day had done to her, so long as she got to finish her drawing.

He passed her once.

Slowed, glanced back.

Something in her stillness pulled at him.

The second time he walked by, she still hadn’t moved, but her pencil had. He could hear the faint scratch of graphite even through the hush of the park. No music, no phone, no distractions. Just focus. He stopped without thinking.

“You’re blocking my light.”

The voice was soft, flat, and low. The kind that didn’t rise just because someone else was nearby. She didn’t look up, didn’t even pause her hand.

“I—sorry,” he said quickly, taking a half-step to the side.

She added something to the page, then finally lifted her head. She looked right at him. There was no recognition in her eyes. Or maybe there was but not the kind he was used to. Not the flare of excitement, the gasp, the scramble for a phone.

Just… calm. Cool, clear eyes taking him in like a stranger on the street. Like he was nothing special. This caught him off guard.

“You always draw in the rain?” he asked, glancing at the soaked sketchbook.

“You always interrupt strangers?” she countered, deadpan. He blinked then let out a short laugh. It sounded too loud in the stillness.

“Touché,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I was just curious.”

“That’s dangerous,” she said, closing the book slowly and resting it in her lap. “Curiosity.”

There was a strange steadiness to her. The kind people usually lost by adulthood, if they ever had it to begin with. Something quiet but sharp, like glass that hadn’t shattered yet. He gestured vaguely toward the sketchbook. “Was that supposed to be me?”

Her mouth tugged at the corner. “If it was, you wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That abstract,” she corrected. “But your nose is interesting. I might use it later.”

He laughed again — for real, this time. “Thanks, I think?”

Her smile was faint. Faint, but real. He watched her for a moment.The way she sat like she belonged to the space around her. Not claiming it. Just existing in it without asking permission. There was something rare in that. Something oddly comforting.

Most people in his life demanded something. A reaction. A performance. Even when they didn’t realize it. But she didn’t ask for anything. Not even his name.

“Do you draw often?” he asked, still standing a few feet away.

“Only when I feel something,” she said, running her thumb along the edge of the page.

He hesitated, then dropped onto the far side of the bench, keeping a respectful distance. She didn’t seem surprised. Or bothered.

“And what were you feeling today?” he asked.

She looked up, not at him but at the canopy of blossoms overhead, petals trembling with the occasional gust of wind.

“Like something’s ending,” she said after a moment. “Even if no one else knows it yet.”

The words settled into him, low and quiet. He didn’t know why, but they stuck.

They didn’t speak much after that. A few murmured observations. A moment of laughter that lasted half a second longer than it should have. But mostly, they shared a silence. The kind that lets itself in like an old friend. The kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

Time worked in a different way, as if passing slow ripples.

Quietly, she closed her sketchbook. She tucked it into a worn canvas bag, pulling the strap over her shoulder with the practiced motion of someone used to leaving.

Seunghyun sat forward slightly before he could stop himself.

“…Will you be here tomorrow?” he asked. He didn’t mean for it to sound like it mattered. But it did.

She looked at him then and her eyes softened, just a little. “Maybe,” she said.

And then she walked away, her wet sneakers slapping softly against the pavement, leaving him there beneath the tree.

Still seated.

Still wondering who she was.

The next day, he didn’t come looking for her. Not exactly. He told himself it was just another walk. The same park, the same path, same need to breathe without being recognized. The same pull to silence the world inside his own head.

But his steps led him back to that bench — the one beneath the tree, half-wilted now, its petals losing their grip on the branch.

She was already there, wearing the same hoodie. Holding the same sketchbook. Same stormy sort of stillness that made her look like she belonged to the rain.

He approached without speaking. Let the moment fill itself. This time, she didn’t pretend not to see him. She looked up briefly, gave the smallest nod, just enough to say yes, you can sit here again and returned to her sketching.

He eased onto the bench beside her, keeping that same polite distance. A stretch of space between them, like an invisible line neither had acknowledged yet.

“I didn’t think you’d be back,” he said quietly.

She smirked. “Why not?”

“You seem like someone who disappears.”

She paused her pencil mid-line.

“I do,” she said. “Sometimes.”

There was no apology in her tone. Just truth. She wasn’t trying to be cryptic but there was a weight behind those words. A hint of something he didn’t know how to name yet. He nodded slowly and looked away.

The breeze picked up. A few loose petals drifted between them, catching in the folds of her hoodie. She didn’t brush them off.

“What are you drawing today?” he asked.

She tilted her sketchbook slightly, just enough for him to see. The page was rough — pencil strokes layered like noise, almost angry, like she hadn’t decided what she was trying to capture yet. Shapes, shadows, no center.

“It’s… complicated,” she said.

He studied it. “Looks like a brain.”

She let out a surprised laugh — short and soft, the sound catching like a hiccup.

“Yeah,” she said. “Kind of does.”

They sat with that for a moment. His eyes drifted to her hands. Stained faintly with graphite, nails bitten short. Her knuckles were pale, a little too bony, but steady.

“You’re an artist?”

She hesitated.

“Sometimes,” she said. “I don’t know if I’m good. Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

Another pause. She turned a page in her sketchbook, blank again. Her fingers hovered over it but didn’t move.

“I guess I’m just… drawing for now. Not for later.”

He glanced at her. She didn’t meet his eyes. Just stared down at the empty page like it might judge her. She talked like someone who wasn’t planning too far ahead. Not in the dreamy, poetic way artists sometimes did. No, hers felt different. Like she was making peace with the fact that ahead wasn’t guaranteed. And something in his chest twisted.

He didn’t ask.

Didn’t pry.

She didn’t owe him anything, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the answer if she gave it. So instead, he said, “I get that.”

Her eyes flicked sideways, curious.

“Drawing for now,” he repeated. “I used to write music like that.”

“Used to?” she echoed.

He leaned back against the bench. “It got harder once it became about everyone else.”

She studied him for a beat. “Then write something for no one.”

“I don’t think I remember how.”

She looked down, brushed a petal off her knee.

“Maybe you’re supposed to forget. So it hurts when you remember.”

The words were quiet but they hit something raw. He stared at her, unsure what to say. She didn’t look at him. Just turned the page again. Back to a blank canvas. And then, “What’s your real name?”

He blinked. “You don’t know it?”

“I do,” she said. “But I want the one you give when you’re not onstage.”

“…Seunghyun.”

She nodded. “Nice to meet you, Seunghyun.”

Silence followed. She didn’t give hers.

Their quiet afternoon stretched in silence. They didn’t leave together. Didn’t trade phone numbers. Didn’t promise to see each other again. But as he walked away, he realized something strange. He hadn’t thought about his schedule in over an hour. Not the next appearance. Not the next shoot. Not the pressure. Not the noise.

Just her voice.

Her laugh.

And the way she said “drawing for now.”

Like now was all she had.

It was a Tuesday again. No rain this time. Just the heat of an early spring sun breaking shyly through leftover clouds. The park looked different in the light. Too green, too alive but the bench remained the same. Same cracks in the wood, same old cherry tree losing its last few petals like secrets slipping through time.

Seunghyun sat there before she did. He arrived ten minutes early, not that he told himself he was waiting. Just that he needed air. Space. Something that wasn’t polished white floors or fake laughter echoing through dressing rooms.

His manager had called him three times before noon. He didn’t answer. They were on break between schedules — technically just forty minutes. Enough time to eat. To rest. To reply to three weeks’ worth of ignored messages from label execs. Instead, he asked to be dropped off on a corner near the park and walked the rest of the way.

He checked the time again.

Twelve past.

He wasn’t anxious.

Not really.

Just…

Waiting.

And then, there she was.

Same hoodie, sleeves fraying more than before. Her walk was slow today — not limping, exactly, but careful. Measured. He noticed it right away. How she paused just before sitting. How she exhaled like gravity hit her harder than it should.

“Hey,” she said, offering him a tired half-smile.

“You okay?”

“Just late,” she said. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “You’re the only thing I’m not late for these days.”

That surprised her. She blinked, then turned her head to look at him more directly. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Guess I don’t know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching a little boy chase pigeons across the path until they scattered in a flurry of feathers.

“Busy day?” she asked.

He nodded. “Always.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“I kept the hour for myself.”

She smiled — not wide, not bright, but soft. Like something inside her had been reassured. “That’s rare, huh?”

“Rare as peace.”

She leaned forward, pulling her sketchbook from her bag. The cover was more bent now, the corners softening from wear. She didn’t open it right away. Instead, she said, “You don’t talk like the person people think you are.”

He turned to her, curious. “What do they think I am?”

She tapped the pencil against her lower lip in thought. “I don’t know. Controlled. Sharp. Cold, maybe.”

He raised a brow. “And what am I really?”

“I think,” she said slowly, “you’re just… tired of pretending you aren’t soft.”

His mouth parted slightly — a breath, a blink and he found himself laughing, low and honest. “You always say things like that?”

She just shook her head, smiling. Instead, she opened her sketchbook and started drawing — right there beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand moved slowly today. Less certainty. He could see the effort it took in her wrist, the faint tremor at the edge of each line.

He wanted to ask if she was sick. Wanted to say, Tell me what you’re not telling me.

But he didn’t.

Because the way she leaned into the moment like every minute was already borrowed made him afraid of what she might confirm if he asked.

So instead, he leaned back against the bench, let the wind stir his coat, and sat beside the girl who wouldn’t give him her name.

And for the first time in months, maybe years…

He didn’t feel like T.O.P.

He felt like himself.

And somehow, that mattered more than anything waiting for him outside the park.

They didn’t mean to meet every day.

It just happened.

The way light finds the same windows every afternoon. The way two songs accidentally harmonize when played too close together. Familiar without intention. Constant without promise.

For weeks, the park bench beneath the cherry blossom tree became their quiet little world.

Seunghyun started rearranging everything for it, subtly at first. Pushing back a meeting by thirty minutes. Skipping lunch breaks. Telling his manager he needed “a walk” whenever he felt his chest tighten too much under the weight of appearances.

He didn’t tell anyone about her.

Not because it was a secret.

Because it was his.

Some days, she brought tea in a little thermos, still warm. Other days, she brought music, an old cassette player with only one working speaker. They would sit, knees not quite touching, listening to lo-fi jazz while she drew and he watched clouds pass between buildings.

One time, he showed up in sunglasses and a mask, breathing heavily from running across town.

“You’re late,” she teased without looking up.

“I’m early everywhere else,” he muttered, collapsing beside her.

She reached into her bag, handed him half a sandwich. “Then this is your reward.”

He ate it without question.

Another time, it was raining again — light and misty. She showed up anyway, even though he didn’t expect her to.

“Thought you hated getting wet,” she said as she shook out her damp hair and sat beside him.

“I hate missing things more.”

She swallowed.

Didn’t know what to say to that. So he just leaned back and let the light mist of water run down his face, pretending he didn’t hear the way his voice cracked a little when he said it.

Instead, he filled in the blanks with quiet hopes he didn’t dare say out loud.

He started writing again. Lyrics he wouldn’t show anyone. Scribbled lines in a notebook she once teased him for carrying. He didn’t care.

It was the first time music made him feel something since… he couldn’t remember when.

Days passed when the rhythm changed. It started with a missed day. She wasn’t there. He waited for an hour, walked a slow lap around the park, and left.

The next day, she came. Apologized softly. Said she had an appointment that ran long.

He didn’t ask what kind. He wanted to but something in the way she clutched her sketchbook tighter than usual told him not to.

The meetings became more spaced. Every other day. Then every three. Then silence.

He started getting pushback from his team.

“Hyung, you can’t just disappear during press season.”

“We’re about to finalize the comeback schedule. You need to be in the room.”

“Where the hell are you always going in the afternoons?”

He argued, loud and frustrated. He didn’t even try to explain it to them. They wouldn’t understand.

It wasn’t a girlfriend.

Wasn’t a scandal.

It was… her.

And he was afraid if he didn’t see her, she might vanish completely.

One day, he stood in the hallway outside the meeting room, fingers clenched so tightly around a coffee cup it cracked.

“I need an hour,” he said.

“You need to be here,” his manager snapped. “Just one hour — then the press call, the shoot, and the label dinner. Please, hyung.”

He almost walked out anyway. But he didn’t and he hated himself for it.

Weeks followed. No more walks. No more sandwiches wrapped in napkins, still warm from her hands. No more laughter soft enough to make the world feel gentle again — laughter that came not from his stage persona, not from a punchline, but from those tiny, in-between moments when her guard dropped and her eyes sparkled.

Just gone.

It wasn’t loud. There was no final goodbye, no moment where he could say, Please stay. Please wait. It was just absence.

That slow, unbearable silence that creeps in when something sacred vanishes before you even realized it mattered that much.

He stopped writing.

Stopped sketching, too. He hadn’t picked up a pen in days. Every page he touched ended up torn or thrown. The notebook in his bag was bent and water-stained, warped with effort and failure. The words came wrong now. Hollow. Like echoes in an empty room.

All that remained — all that he could hold was a folded piece of paper tucked behind his ID in his wallet.

The sketch.

She gave it to him the last time they saw each other, nonchalantly, like it was nothing. “You’ll hate it,” she’d said, pressing it into his hand with a smile too wide to be casual. “Don’t unfold it until you’re alone. Promise?”

He took it out more than he should’ve. Late at night. Between interviews. In cars. In green rooms where the lights were too bright and the silence too sharp.

The paper had softened along the folds. A corner was beginning to curl.

The drawing itself was done in pencil, clean and textured — more detailed than any of the sketches he’d seen from her before. Not rushed. Not abstract.

It was him.

Not T.O.P, not the performer but him. Hair tucked under a beanie, eyes cast downward, lips just slightly parted. Caught mid-thought. His own gaze looking past the viewer, like he wasn’t sure where he was anymore.

It was how he looked when she saw him.

And now, all he had was the version of himself she left behind. He stared at it for what felt like hours. So long he forgot to blink. His eyes burned, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not while something so real stared back at him. Something that remembered. Something that looked at him the way she did without asking for anything.

A sound rose in his throat — tight and unfamiliar.

It wasn’t quite a sob. Not yet. But it cracked something open in his chest. A seam that had been splitting slowly ever since the first day she didn’t come.

The ache became a flood. And before he even realized what he was doing, he was on his feet.

He didn’t take a car.

Didn’t grab a coat.

Didn’t tell anyone.

He just ran.

Out the studio doors, down concrete alleys and dim-lit sidewalks. The city blurred. Cars honked. Strangers turned to watch the man in the hoodie sprint across a crosswalk with panic in his eyes and no destination on his lips except one.

The park.

The goddamn bench.

Their bench.

His lungs burned by the time he got there. He stumbled across the worn path, gravel crunching under his shoes, heart thudding louder than the wind through the trees.

But she wasn’t there.

Of course she wasn’t.

She hadn’t been there for weeks.

Someone else was.

An older woman sat in her place, knees close together, fingers folded around the strap of a plain black shoulder bag. She looked like she’d been waiting — not for him, but for something quieter. The kind of waiting that knows it won’t be answered.

She turned when she saw him approach.

And he knew.

He knew.

She had her eyes but it was softer, worn by grief.

But her eyes.

The breath rushed from his lungs before she even opened her mouth.

“You’re Seunghyun,” she said softly.

He nodded once. He couldn’t speak.

“She talked about you,” she said. “A lot.” Her voice was warm. Gentle but unbearably tired.

He blinked fast. The sketch in his wallet felt heavier than ever before.

“She waited here for you… for days. She really believed you’d come back.”

A tremor started in his fingers. He curled them into fists.

“I wanted to. I—I tried—”

The woman smiled faintly. Not with blame. But with that tragic kind of kindness only grieving mothers seem to know how to give.

“She knew,” she said. “She never held it against you.”

From her bag, she pulled out a small envelope. It was soft at the edges, slightly yellowed, with a faint bend down the middle like it had been opened and read over and over.

“She wrote this in case she… left before you came back. She asked me to give it to you.”

She pressed it into his palm. Her hand lingered there for a moment — a squeeze, light and trembling.

“She wanted you to know,” she said, voice breaking for the first time, “that meeting you made her feel like she was still living.”

And then she walked away, one hand pressed to her chest, the other wiping her cheek as she turned and disappeared down the path where cherry blossoms had already begun to fall again.

He sat on the cold bench.

Alone.

The envelope was warm from her hand, but it chilled the moment he opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper, carefully folded. And a pressed cherry blossom — browned now, but still intact tucked gently inside the crease.

He opened the letter with trembling fingers.

Her handwriting.

Small. Neat. Certain.

“Seunghyun,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t know if time will let me see you again. But if you’re holding this… then I guess I already know.

You made the time I had feel like it mattered. Even if you didn’t know the whole truth.

His throat closed, a knot forming in the space between his heart and his breath.

I didn’t tell you I was sick because I didn’t want that to be what you saw. I didn’t want to become a ticking clock in your eyes. I didn’t want your kindness to come from pity. I just… I wanted to be soft. I wanted to be seen the way you saw me, a stranger with messy sketches and too many opinions about clouds.

You always showed up like you didn’t even realize you were saving me. Every time you sat beside me, every time you took that hour… you gave me life I didn’t think I could still feel. And then one day… you stopped. And I understood. But I still waited. Every day. Because even if you didn’t come, you gave me something worth waiting for.

The ink was smudged in one place — a water stain, or maybe a tear, now dried into the fibers of the page.

Don’t blame yourself. Please. I didn’t need you to fix anything. I just needed to feel like I was part of the world again.

And you gave me that. For a little while, I forgot I was dying.

His hands began to shake, the letter trembling like it carried the weight of her voice.

I hope that someday, in some corner of your heart, you’ll remember me as something light — not heavy.

That would be enough.”

Love,

Y/N

Below the signature was a second sheet, tucked gently behind the letter.

A portrait.

The same one she once gave him; unfinished then, just a sketch of outlines and beginnings, barely enough for him to recognize himself.

But now…

Now it was complete.

She’d drawn him with such unbearable softness. Shading carefully along his jaw, his cheekbones. His mouth was curved into that faint smile he only wore around her — the one that happened when silence felt safe. His eyes were darker in the portrait, shadowed, thoughtful. Alive in a way he hadn’t realized she’d memorized.

She’d finished it.

Even knowing she’d never get to hand it to him.

Even knowing she wouldn’t see how his breath would hitch. How his hands would tremble. How his heart would shatter.

Seunghyun didn’t cry the way people do in films. No fists pounding against walls. No dramatic gasps.

He just sat there.

Completely still.

Hands curled tightly around the paper, fingertips pressing too hard, as if the more he held it, the more it might undo time.

His throat burned. His chest felt hollow like something vital had been scooped out and nothing was left to keep him upright but grief. The ache that had been building for weeks finally gave in. Broke.

Tears slipped from his eyes — quietly, steadily without effort or warning. They fell onto the paper. Onto her lines. Onto her name.

He bowed his head, pulled the drawing gently to his chest, and held it there like it was the last warmth left in the world. And he whispered something, not to himself, not to the sky, but to her.

“I’m sorry I was late.”

His voice cracked like a violin string pulled too tight.

“I should’ve come back sooner.”

The wind blew softly through the trees, catching the edge of her sketch and fluttering it like breath. The sun dipped low enough to spill gold across the pavement, warming the very bench where she once sat, knee drawn up, sketching him like a secret.

Seunghyun closed his eyes.

He saw her there. Just for a second. That faint smile. That stupid hoodie. That softness she never let the world take from her.

He opened his eyes again. Through everything trembling inside him, he made her a promise. A real one.

“I’ll write it for you,” And this time… he meant it with everything he had left.

#choi seunghyun #t.o.p x reader #t.o.p #t.o.p fanfic #t.o.p bigbang #bigbang fanfic #bigbang x reader #bigbang #bigbang scenario #angst #t.o.p x you

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darrenhayes · 1 month ago

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Don't Look Back You Can Never Look Back

I went to San Francisco recently. A belated birthday present from my love. I’d planned to go in May but I wasn’t recovered enough from my jaw fracture to enjoy it so we postponed until the wires had come off my jaw and I could at least eat at restaurants like a regular person. San Francisco was the first place outside of Australia, that I felt at home. In some ways, it might be even more significant than that because it was a dedicated decision, after leaving Australia, to choose to be in a city that I wanted to be in, as opposed to the more logical destinations of Los Angeles or New York. I’ll never forget the moment I arrived at Water A’s guest house in Marin County. I’d flown from New York (where I lived at the time) and the second I got off the plane the molecules shifted and I felt I was home. I stayed in Water’s guest house while we recorded ‘The Animal Song’ and that’s when I was fully seduced by the energy of the land, the smell of redwoods in nearby Mill Valley, and the, then, regional delights of grocery stores like ‘WholeFoods’ and ‘Molly Stones’. After a short return to NYC, I cried all the way on the 5 ish hour flight from Manhattan (where I was leaving my first gay relationship - it had come to an end - and to spend what would be 3 months in San Rafael, the home of Wallywood studios, where we recorded most of the ‘Affirmation’ album. A month before I was due to fly ‘home’ - I called my then, manager, Larry and asked if it was a stupid idea to live in a city that wasn’t a media hub. He told to GO FOR IT. The my happiness was the most important career decision I could make. Soon, I was buying my home in beautiful Sausalito and so began almost a decade of a life in the foggy enclave that possessed the most magical view of the Bay and the city of San Francisco - and a quiet, mystical and zen neighborhood in which my family visited from Australia many, many times. I have so many treasure memories of time with beautiful Mother. Even years later, after my ‘London experience’ - I’d return to San Francisco - often with my beautiful Mother. The last time she was well enough to fly from Australia to the USA, I made sure I took her to city of fog - and we spent time in Milly Valley and the majestic Muir Woods and of course one unforgettable night at a pretentious hotel celebrating an overpriced ticketed New Years Eve where the hostess tried to eject us upon entry. My Mother soon put a stop to that. We were suddenly treated to bottomless flutes of champagne al night. I remember when my Mother left California on that trip, I was devastated. I now know it’s because it would be the last time she’d visit me here. It’s funny, for days after her departure I walked around my neighborhood in Santa Monica and visited the places she and I had occupied, trying to feel her energy, as though it were made of golden glitter and just by sitting at the same cafe table we’d shared coffee at, or resting on the same park bench we’d sat in and talked for hours, I could experience her again. Sadly, all it did was make me cry. Flash forward to my recent belated birthday trip and I’m both proudly nostalgic and sadly disappointed to admit I spent much of my time in San Francisco, chasing her ghost. To quote my own song lyric, ''

And from the highest mountain, I went to make a sound, I thought that if I called out you would answer. But no one did’.

On the drive back to the airport, I suddenly had the most lucid memory of her. Not just one, but all the times I’d driven her back to the airport, like layers of a photoshop image, all separated and visible at once. My heart broke as I remembered making the same mistake of missing the exit to the terminal, just like I did every single time I was returning her to Australia.

We had this pattern. I’d burst into tears on her arrival and she’d be inconsolable when she left.

This isn’t a poem or a piece of prose. It’s not a story or a script where I have a carefully constructed and thought out ending to make me (and you) feel better. The grim reality is, grief is hard. It comes when you least expect it and it’s seductive, like a drug dealer, selling you a dream to chase with no reward at the end.

I miss my Mother terribly . I know it will become more bearable and more a part of me as time goes on, but my god, I wish we’d had more time.

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bqstqnbruin · 1 day ago

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Just For the Summer

I need to learn how to make those cool headers that everyone does but my Canva is connected to my school email which I think would not be a good idea to use.

But anyway, this my entry for the Summer Fic Exchange run by the amazing @wyattjohnston!

I had a very fun time writing this for the amazing @nhl-stories after going through four different fic ideas for this. Be warned, you wanted unresolved angst, and I gave you that (I did in fact break my heart writing this, but I'm annoying please forgive me).

This is Quinn Hughes and an OC, I think I got in everything you asked for/I asked about that worked for this. I hope you like this!

Also, shoutout to @nicohischier because I text her and at the worst times asking her for help with this always (you did not get your wish here)

Warnings: Swearing, implied sex, drinking, heart break

WC: 6238

Flashbacks are in italics

__________________________

“Can you please go faster?”

“Can you please calm the fuck down?”

“This is not the time to be snapping at each other.”

“Shut up, Jack,” Luke and Quinn say in unison as Luke finally pulls into a parking space, seemingly as far away from the entrance to the terminal as possible.

Quinn anxiously waits for Luke to put the car in park, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get the door open until the doors unlocked otherwise. Before he could, another car pulls in to the space right next to his door. Quinn lets out a guttural groan.

“Maybe this is all a sign that you shouldn’t be doing this,” comes from the back seat.

“Shut up, Jack.”

__________________________

“Why are you pouting?”

“Why are we here?”

“Because you haven’t been outside in three days.”

“Because I didn’t want to go outside.”

“Remember when you used to be fun?”

“Remember when I didn’t regularly plan your murder?”

“Babe,” Phoebe starts, “I know getting laid off sucks, but-”

Ashtyn cuts her friend off, “No, it worse than sucks. I already barely got paid as a teacher, and now I don’t have anything at all? Who gets pink slipped as a teacher? A science teacher? When there’s a teacher shortage?” Her voice gets higher with each question, her frustration bubbling over the sounds of the bar around them.

Phoebe gave her a sympathetic look. Ashtyn knew her friend couldn’t understand no matter how much she wanted to; she had a job at her dad’s company right after graduation, while Ash had to struggle to find a job because public schools apparently weren’t desperate enough to hire a teacher with no experience. Phoebe’s job paid her enough that she didn’t have to worry about where her money was going, while Ashtyn had to budget to make sure she could afford to have two meals a day. Phoebe had a boyfriend, Cassius, whom she lived with to share all of their bills, Ashtyn couldn’t find a roommate who didn’t give her serial killer vibes and had no choice but to live alone and foot every bill by herself all the time. Phoebe didn’t know what it was to worry; all Ashtyn could do was worry.

“I can’t even afford this drink,” Ashtyn wines, covering her face with her hands, leaning against the bar in front of her.

“Ok, here’s what we’re going to do,” Phoebe starts, trying to pry her friend's hand away. “We’re going to find guys to flirt with and con them into buying us drinks, then run away with the drinks and get drunk until we need more and just start the cycle over again.”

Ashtyn stares at her. Getting drunk was the last thing she really wanted to do. “Can’t we just go home and wallow instead? I hear Hulu calling my name.”

Phoebe rolls her eyes, ignoring her friend as she signals the bartender. “This round is on me, then we start conning men.”

“What happens when all the men realize you have either conned them before or that you have a boyfriend you’re practically married to?” Ashtyn asks.

Phoebe shrugs, taking the two glasses from the sticky bar top and handing one to her friend. “If we can con them more than once, they deserve that, and we always run away before I have the chance to mention Cash if I need to get them away from us.”

Ashtyn scoffs, turning her back on her friend to scope out the bar. Most of the people here she’s seen before; she recognized some of the guys since Phoebe had spent more time conning some of the men for drinks than she did at work.

One group of guys caught her eye; she was sure she had seen him before as well, but not in the context of the surrounding bar. The neon sign on the wall above them lighting them in a way that put them out of place.

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” a voice pulls her out of her trance of the mystery men sitting across from her, the flicker of a smile on the nervous ones face Ashtyn was sure was aimed towards her quickly fading before she turned to the guy standing by her side. He wasn’t bad. “Sorry, you just look how I kinda feel,” he stammers out.

Ashtyn laughs. “I’ve been told I have subtitles before.”

The guy smiles at her, a sense of warmth rushing through her. “I’m Brock.”

She introduces herself, the two of them talking about what they would rather be doing instead of being at the bar. She, as she already told Phoebe who had managed to disappear on her, would rather be in bed with her TV on to a show she’s seen a million times before while she read a book she had checked out from the library or scrolled on her phone at the mindless tik toks that filled her FYP. He would rather be sitting on the couch in the comforts of his apartment watching a movie that he had been waiting for to be put onto Netflix since he couldn’t head to a theater and watch it when it came out.

“So, why are you here then?” Brock asks her, changing the subject.

“I got laid off today, so my friend thought we should come out.” No sense in sugar coating it.

“Oh, shit,” was all he could get out.

The conversation slowly fizzed out from there, Brock buying Ashtyn a drink when she finished hers before saying he had to head to the bathroom.

Ashtyn was left alone at the bar, squeezing her way onto one of the stools, staring down at the drink she no longer really wanted.

“So, that looked painful,” another voice says behind her. She turns around to see the nervous guy from before standing there behind her, his hands in his pockets, a hint of red on his cheeks while he tried to avoid eye contact with her. “That was one of my friends, he’s harmless.”

“Are you supposed to be up here to convince me to date him or something?” Ashtyn asked, the exhaustion from the day and whatever this ordeal was hitting her.

The guy laughs, even though he looks terrified. “No, no. I’m here for my own reasons. He came up to you to show me that you aren’t as intimidating as I thought you were.” Ashtyn waits for a second for him to continue, watching him scrunch his face while he tried to find his words. “Sorry, uh,” he stammers, clearing his throat and trying not to look like he was going to vomit all over her shoes. Part of her wasn’t sure she would even care if did. “I don’t ever come up to someone in a bar.”

Ashtyn can’t help but smile; something about his nerves made her relax around him. “You’re doing fine so far,” she says, gesturing to the now free stool next to her, a rush of confidence going through her that she couldn’t explain. “So if your friend is Brock, who are you?”

“Quinn.”

__________________________

The person in the car next to them finally gets out, leaving the door open next to Quinn for longer than they needed to. This was out of spite, he just knew it.

“I’m getting out on your side,” Quinn says to Luke, starting to climb over the center console.

“No, ok, stop,” Luke lets out, his hands in front of him as Quinn’s leg stays stationary in the air behind him, gaping at his younger brother. “We need a plan. We can’t just run into an airport with no tickets and no bags looking like we’re going to go feral without raising some national security flags.”

“The plan is to find Ashtyn.”

“Quinn, we cannot do this when you look like a drowned rat that didn’t dry off properly.”

Quinn turns to the brother in the back seat, his mouth hanging open in astonishment, Jack not looking up from his phone after he said that.

Luke let out a cackle.

__________________________

“This is the worst fucking thing I think I have ever had to do in my entire life,” Ashtyn whines into her phone, staring at the walls in front of her.

Quinn’s laugh comes through the speaker, making Ashtyn sigh just to overpower the sound that made her stomach flutter in the best way. She could not think about liking the boy on the other side of this call when she had to undo her entire classroom.

“That’s a totally reasonable response that I would expect from you.”

“Do you know how long it takes to set up a classroom, Quintin?”

“There’s no reason I would.”

“Exactly. This setup took me about six days to put together, and now I somehow need to get everything down by this time tomorrow.”

Ashtyn doesn’t even know where to start, she just stands there staring at the walls in her room. It’s one thing that teachers in most schools have to completely take down everything off the walls of their classrooms for summer cleaning, just to put everything back up two months later, but she doesn’t even know where she’s going to be teaching in two months.

“Oh, god, what if I don’t have a classroom to set up in August?” Ashtyn verbalizes, Quinn not hearing any of her inner thoughts to be able to connect the dots.

“What’s your classroom number?”

“208.”

“Ok,” Quinn says, hanging up on her before she can even register what he asked.

Quinn hung up without Ashtyn even noticing.

Ashtyn stands in the center of her classroom, trying to figure out a plan of attack. Her department head told her not only did she need to make sure all of the things she paid for were out of the building or else they get thrown out, she had to make a list of all the lab supplies she was leaving behind that she got through the school’s money. They already had a list of that anyway. Why did they need another one?

“What the fuck,” she groans, tilting her head back to the ceiling, seeing the things she had hung from the tiles there.

Ashtyn climbs up on one of the desks, trying to get the things down.

“What are you doing?” a voice startles her, making her jump.

“Holy shit.” She holds her chest, thinking that it could help her heart rate go back down to normal. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Quinn smirks at her, leaning against the door frame in a way that did not help steady her heart. “Like you’re trying to break your neck.”

Ashtyn brushes a lock of hair out of her face before returning to her ceiling. “I woluldn’t have to worry about that if people didn’t scare me when I’m in a precarious position like this. What are you doing here?”

He enters her classroom, looking around at all the things on the walls. Quinn holds up a bag she didn’t notice he had, a smile on his face. “I came with food and hands to help you.”

Ashtyn stops, the pom pom that hung over the seat of one of her favorite students in her hand, the tape still stuck on the ceiling. “What?” Before he could respond, more voices came down the hallway, voices that were not those of her now ex-coworkers. “Who’s that?”

“Jack and Luke are visiting this week, so they tagged along.” Quinn's brothers enter her classroom, empty boxes in hand, practically screaming like they were her own students entering her classroom. He smiles at her again, a glint in his eyes as he claps his hands once, his brothers practically snapping to his attention. “So, what are we doing?”

Ashtyn starts listing off things that need to get done in her room, Jack and Luke immediately getting to work for her. She climbs down off the table pom pom still in hand and makes her way to Quinn, her heart still not steady as she approaches him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Quinn waves her off, heading into her desk like she said she needed someone to do and starts clearing things out. “You would have done the same for me.”

“Would you have put this off to the last minute?”

Quinn pauses for a second, looking at the stack of post-its she had stashed in her drawers. “Jack would have, and you would have helped him if he meant something to me.”

“‘If I meant something to you?’ You asshole,” Jack mutters, throwing one of the fidgets she has for her students at his brother.

Ashtyn laughs, watching the brothers bicker while they slowly get everything cleaned up and packed into boxes just to help her get this seemingly monumental task to be smaller for her.

They somehow get it done in record time; Ashtyn giving her keys to Jack and Luke to have them start bringing all the stuff to her apartment while she finishes up the last bit of cleaning and the food Quinn brought her.

“I can’t believe you did this.”

She sees blush on Quinn’s cheeks, the pink traveling up to his ears. “I was always told to make your first date with someone memorable.”

Ashtyn can’t help but smile at him, even if he’s too nervous to look her in the eye. “I didn’t realize this was a date.”

“Well, it fits the definition of one.”

“Yeah?”

“An activity with two people, who have romantic interest in each other, so they can spend time together and get to know each other.”

“Your brothers were here,” she points out.

He shrugs, finally looking at her with a smile that mirrored hers. “So it was a double date.”

“Well, what did you learn about me?”

“That you are incredibly chaotic and disorganized,” he laughs, Ashtyn playfully shoving him as they pick up the last of the boxes to walk them to her car. “Your room reminds me of my favorite teachers rooms; the ones where you knew you could go no matter what was going on in the day and the teacher would be happy to see you. Your room has love in it; you love what you do.”

Asthyn can feel her cheeks getting hot, but Quinn continues before she could say anything. “And god, your laugh. I could listen to that all day.”

“My laugh? It’s loud and obnoxious,” she counters.

Quinn shakes his head, nudging her slightly as they walk through the parking lot. “No, it’s like a firework. Like, when you’re staring up at the sky just waiting for them to start, you know it’s coming and yet the color still surprises you every time. The sparkle, the glitter, the shapes they make, there’s nothing else that should follow except for the sound of the next one. It might be loud but it’s beautiful.”

Ashtyn is speechless as they get to her car. “Thank you,” is all she could manage to get out.

“Let me take you on a real date, Ash. One without my brothers, one where I plan it just so I can hear you laugh more.”

“Yes.”

__________________________

They bust in through the doors of check in, all three somehow out of breath after dodging multiple cars that seemed to be trying to take them out while trying to get through the parking garage.

“Ok, we know the plan?”

Luke lets out a sigh considering this is now the seventh time Quinn has asked the question since they parked the car. That was only about fifteen minutes ago. “Get the cheapest ticket possible, get through security as fast as we can, run to her gate, and convince her not to go.”

“You’re paying us back for these tickets, right?”

“Jesus Christ, Jack, you make eight million a year and you’re worried about the $30?”

“I was going to use it for something.”

“What could you possibly need that this $30 is so important to you?”

Jack looks down at the ground, kicking a rock that’s not there while they stand in line. “I was going to order take out tonight,” he says in a small voice.

“I swear to god.”

__________________________

“Fucking shitty fucked up fucks,” Ashtyn lets out in frustration.

Quinn and Phoebe exchange a look with each other, watching Ashtyn type away furiously on her computer as she continues to mumble more expletives under her breath.

“Hey, babe?” Phoebe says to her.

Ashtyn pulls her feet up under her, perching herself on the seat with her laptop balancing precariously on her thighs, ignoring the lady next to her who just gave her a dirty look for nearly knocking her drink out of her hand in the process. “No.”

Quinn tries to hide his smirk, knowing that if the woman in front of him finally looked up from her screen and saw him laughing at her, she would probably tear his head off.

“Ash, we’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“The public schools are starting to post their jobs.”

“And that means you have to apply right now while we’re about to board our flight?”

“What if they give the job to someone internal while we’re on the flight?”

“Then I think you weren’t meant to have the job if they can find someone in the not even six hours we’re going to be in their air.”

“Ok, how about this,” Quinn says, getting up from his seat and crouching down in front of her, the lady next to Ashtyn watching the interaction as he gently moves her laptop screen forward to get her attention. “Instead of panicking about this right now, because you know that if you send in these applications rushed like this that you’re not going to get these jobs, we spend the flight making sure you have everything you need first so you can make applying easier for yourself.”

Ashtyn looks at him, her brow furrowed as she simply blinks. “You want to spend six hours getting job application materials together? How do you know I don’t already have them together?”

“I have seen your classroom, your apartment, and your Google Drive; I know that nothing you have is organized until you absolutely need to have it that way.”

“He got you there,” Cash joins, a tray of drinks in his hand that he passes to the four of them. “Have you tried applying to jobs outside of teaching?”

“I have no talents other than telling people how atoms work.”

Cash sighs, gathering their bags when the boarding group before them gets called. “What about if you apply for jobs in another province?”

Ashtyn’s mind starts to spin with all the things she would need to do for that. “It’s an option.”

They board the plane, Quinn and Ashtyn seated together. “So, how did you manage to get the seat next to mine, again?”

Quinn smirks as more passengers go by them to their seats. “Luck, I guess.”

They weren’t even going to Boston for the same reasons; Phoebe and Ashtyn were invited for a college friend's wedding on Martha’s Vineyard, Quinn was going because his brothers told him they had a house on Cape Cod.

The two of them sit in silence, waiting for the plane to take off so Ashtyn can take out her computer and start getting everything she needs together.

“Ok,” Quinn starts. “Do you know what schools you’re applying to?”

Ash shrugs, staring at a blank Google Doc that’s now open on her screen. “Whichever ones need a chemistry teacher. I’ll even teach middle school science at this point.”

“You would make a middle schooler cry in two minutes.”

Ashtyn groans, covering her face in her hands. “I’m so fucked.”

“Hey,” Quinn says, gently taking her hand away from her face, rubbing his thumb across the lines on her palm. He flips her hand over, bringing it up to place a gentle kiss to it. “We’ll figure this out.”

__________________________

“I swear to god, I swear to god, I swear to god, I swear to god,” Quinn mutters, bouncing on his toes and looking frantically between the line in front of him and the time on his phone. Her flight was boarding in fortty minutes, and he didn’t even know what gate she was at.

“This is how you get stopped for questioning,” Luke says, putting his hand on his oldest brother's arm to try to get him to stop.

“If someone didn’t turn down every ticket the gate agent offered,” Quinn snapped, glaring at Jack, who looked down at his shoes. “Then we would already be getting through the airport right now instead of standing in this line.”

“You could have left without me.”

“No.”

“We told Quinn we would do this with him. We’re not letting him run to Ashtyn by himself.”

The line moves painstakingly slow for Quinn, the feeling like he was going to die right there while waiting in the security line gnawing through him.

“You could call her.”

Quinn shakes his head, the bouncing starting up again without him even thinking about it. “This has to be done in person.”

“No, just to stall her. That way she won’t realize her plane is boarding.”

“That girl has raging ADHD and pays attention to everything and nothing at the same time. She’d take the call while listening to a book and hearing all the conversations around her.”

Quinn smiles, looking down at the ground while his brothers continue to go on. “God, she’s amazing.”

__________________________

Ashtyn stared at her computer, a blank application in front of her. She and Quinn spent the six hour flight to Boston going through every province and trying to figure out what she needed to do in order to teach there just in case she couldn’t find anything British Columbia. She didn’t technically need a certification to move somewhere outside of BC if she taught at a private school, but having the cert would help.

“This is going to be fucking awful,” she says to herself, the apartment they were in empty.

Phoebe and Cash were off exploring the city, Winston, the friend they were supposed to be staying with, has been MIA since he let them in and gave them the spare key for the weekend, most likely spending the entire time with his boyfriend in the suburbs.

Ashtyn puts her hands on the keyboard, hoping to find the motivation to start typing her information into the application in front of her. Most schools just had an email to send a resume and references to, but this one was more intense. Of course it was; it was one of the best private schools in the country, and they were looking for a chemistry teacher. She wasn’t going to get the job, but what was the hurt in applying?

“The hurt would be when I get yet another rejection email,” Ashtyn says out loud again.

A knock on the door of the apartment startles her out of her death stare of the webpage, making her jump and nearly dropping her laptop.

“Quinn?” She sees him when she opens the door, her heart racing at the sight of him.

“I missed you.”

“You’re supposed to be with your brothers.” He comes in, scoping her up for a hug that lifts her off her feet, twirling her round and making her squeal.

Quinn puts her down, his hands lingering on her waist as his eyes trail up her body. He swallows, his voice thick as he asks, “What are you wearing?”

Ashtyn flashes him a wicked grin, pulling back from his slightly to look down at the old blue Vancouver Canucks shirt she had swiped from his place after their first real date. “Oh, this? You don’t recognize it?”

Quinn lets out a groan as his lips crash onto hers, walking her back into the apartment after shutting the door behind him with his foot. Without disconnecting from her, their lips moving in sync, Quinn guides Ashtyn to the couch, laying her down and crawling on top of her.

“The only thing that is better than you wearing my shirt,” Quinn says, trailing kisses from her face, down her neck to her collarbone, stopping a nip at a sensitive spot behind her ear that made her let out a small moan that brought a smile to his face. “Is you without any shirt.”

Ashtyn can’t help but laugh, her hands tracing the hem of his shirt as he presses against her. “Phoebe and Cash could walk in at any moment.”

Before she could do anything, Quinn has her in his arms, cradling her as she lets out another squeal. “Then we better move to somewhere more private.”

__________________________

The three brothers walk through the airport, trying to find Ashtyn at a terminal. They couldn't find her flight on the board, figuring she would be waiting at whatever gate. Ashtyn had needed to be at the airport at least five hours early to make sure she didn’t miss her flight (or have the wrong terminal altogether, which had happened more than once).

“This would go faster if you let us run,” Jack moped, earning a smack in the chest from Luke.

“You running through an airport would end up in either you getting arrested, not seeing Ashtyn and making this go way longer than it needs to be, or you’re going to accidentally run over a child or something and seriously hurt someone.”

Jack mumbles something under his breath, Luke rolling his eyes and turning to Quinn.

His oldest brother was intently staring at every person they passed, trying to find the reason they were frantically scoping an airport as if he would die if he didn’t.

“Do you know what you’re going to say when you see her?”

Quinn stops in his tracks in the middle of the hall, people behind him yelling at him without him paying attention. He keeps looking around, as if he were in a trance, facing his brothers but making eye contact with neither of them. “That I love her. That I’ve been in love with her since Boston. I never told her.”

__________________________

“Come to the gym with me,” Ashtyn heaves in a high pitched, mocking voice, “It’ll be fun. I’m doing an easy workout.”

Quinn laughs, taking her hand in his and pulling her in for a sweaty kiss on her cheek. “Is that supposed to be me?”

Ashtyn shakes her hand away from him, doubling over with her hands on her knees in order to catch her breath, glaring at her boyfriend as he laughs at her. “There are easier ways to say that you hate me, you know.”

Quinn feels his breath catch at her words. “I could never hate you, Ash.” She doesn’t notice how a soft smile grows on his face, the way he looks at her as if there’s no one else in the world. He could tell her right now how he feels. Ashtyn glares at him to watch him open his mouth and close it, open and close while he doesn’t make eye contact with her, instead looking down at his feet while he shifts his weight back and forth.

Ashtyn stood up, wiping the sweat from her palms on her shorts. She takes a step toward Quinn, ignoring the gym bro who was waiting for the machine that they were standing in front of. She takes a step toward him, leaving space between them despite reaching for his hand. “Are you ok?”

Before Quinn can respond to her, Ashtyn’s phone starts to ring, pulling them out of their own little bubble. She had turned her ringer on in case any of the schools she applied to called her for any reason. “It’s one of the schools.”

“One of the ones you interviewed with already?” Ashtyn nods; she had already gone through ten interviews in the last three weeks alone; none of them had led to a call yet. “Well, answer it.”

Quinn and Ashtyn start gathering their things, Ash with the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she talks to whoever is on the other end. They don’t introduce themselves, a melodic feminine voice coming through her speaker. They start going on about the history of the school, the classroom sizes, the responsibilities a teacher at their school has, all things that are readily available on their website that Ashtyn had already practically memorized for the interview.

“So, what do you say?”

Ashtyn stops in her tracks, forgetting Quinn’s hand was in hers while he kept walking and nearly fell over as a result. “Sorry?”

“We would love to have you be part of our faculty here. The job is yours if you want it.” Ashtyn has no words, trying to figure out what to say to the one sentence she’s been waiting to hear all summer. “Think about it. I know you’re in Vancouver, so you’d have to make a pretty substantial move for this. Let me know by next Wednesday; we start in service that Monday.”

“Thank you,” she manages to get out, saying goodbye to the woman who might become her principal.

“Well?” Quinn asks, pulling her against his car, his arms snaking around her waist.

Without looking at him, she drapes her arms on his shoulders. “I got the job.”

Quinn yells, picking her up and spinning her around as she lets out a yelp at his movement. “Which one?”

Ashtyn can feel her stomach turn with everything she feels in that moment. The joy on Quinn’s face makes her fall in love with him as if she hadn’t already fallen the first time they talked to each other. She was sure he loves her, too, but neither of them have said anything.

It might not matter, anyway.

“Branksome Hall.”

The smile slowly fades from Quinn’s face when the name finally registers with him, the joy of her just getting an offer going away. “The school in Toronto?”

“Yeah.”

__________________________

“Ok, this is taking us way too long to find her. Did her flight already leave?” Luke throws his hands up in exasperation, clearly getting more annoyed with his brothers by the second.

Quinn shakes his head, pulling out his phone to check the time. “Her boarding time isn’t for another fifteen minutes. Do they board planes early?”

“You could call her and ask,” Jack suggests.

Luke and Quinn groan. “That defeats the whole purpose of surprising her.”

“I’m calling Phoebe.” Quinn walks away from his brothers and pulls up the best friend of the woman he was chasing after; the one who was becoming just as close to him as she is to Ashtyn.

“What’s up?” she answers right away, Quinn hearing her in her kitchen, probably making herself and Cash dinner.

“What’s Ashtyn’s gate number?”

Phoebe says nothing, all noise in the background stopping. “Quintin, what are you doing?”

“She never said goodbye.”

“Quinn,” Phoebe breathes out, the sound sending a crack through his heart. “She got an offer at Rockridge Secondary.”

Quinn blinks, hearing his heart beat into his ears. “What? But that’s in…” he trails off.

“Vancouver. They didn’t give her enough money.”

“What’s her gate?” is all he can get out. He could have taken care of her in any way she needed him to. She wouldn’t take it, though. He knew that.

Phoebe tells him, his heart sinking even further than it already was. He turns to his brothers, who are now staring at him intently, as if they could hear everything Phoebe was saying as well. “We’re in the wrong terminal.”

“This airport only has two terminals, and we’re in the wrong fucking one?” Luke nearly yells.

“Luke, please,” Quinn says, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath. “I have to see her.”

__________________________

“What do I do?” Ashtyn whines, throwing herself backwards on her couch and covering her face with her hands. She spent the summer having multiple mental breakdowns over not being enough for any school to offer her a job to two schools offering her a job in a matter of days.

“Isn’t that what you need to figure out?” Phoebe says, lifting Ash’s legs and lowering herself under them, patting her best friend's shins. Ashtyn lets out another groan. “Ok, pro/con time.”

“Rockridge is here in Vancouver,” she starts, “which means I don’t have to move or find a new place to live like I would with Branksome.”

“But, Branksome is offering you nearly 20k more than Rockridge, and Toronto is not a hard city to move to. And, Branksome is your dream job.”

“Branksome has better academics and is one of the top schools in the country.”

“But Rockridge means you don’t have to leave me.”

“And Quinn.”

“So,” Phoebe starts, watching Ashtyn sit up. “Do you go to the school that you haven't stopped talking about teaching at since I met you, or do you stay with the boy you’ve been dreaming of meeting since you realized you liked men?”

__________________________

Quinn tells his brothers about the call with Phoebe.

“Then why are we running through an airport trying to find this girl if she didn’t even tell you she could have stayed here with you?” Jack asks.

“Because I have to know why I wasn’t enough for her,” Quinn yells, stopping his brothers and a few other people around them in their tracks. He can feel the tears starting to build behind in his eyes, swallowing down what he was sure was a sob. “I have to know why the girl I love only thought I was worth one summer.”

__________________________

Ashtyn stands outside of Quinn’s door, holding the box that she had to return to him. In it were all the things he had given her while they were together. It was just one summer, this wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

She moves away from his door, not leaving the box but heading around the corner of his hallway instead. She sits down on the floor, looking back through the things he gave her one last time before she had to leave them. The movers were coming to pick up the last of her boxes in two hours and she wasn’t finished packing. She was leaving later that night, the cheapest flight she could find since she spent way more on this move than she wanted.

Quinn’s shirt that she wore in Boston, a few little trinkets that he picked up for her on their random adventures in through British Columbia. She left him a copy of her favorite book because he told her he had always wanted to read it, leaving her thoughts throughout so he could at least have that part of her.

Not that she would want to read it if it were the other way around.

She could feel the tears well in her eyes as she pulled out the envelope. Collecting the little post-it notes Quinn always managed to leave for her and giving them back almost made her want to call Branksome and tell them she wasn’t interested. There were so many, she knew if she read back through them (again) that she would miss the movers.

She only pulled out one; the one that made her question everything. He wrote, ‘I never thought the girl of my dreams existed until I met you. She has nothing on you.’

Ashtyn said the same thing about Quinn to Phoebe the night after they met.

She lets out a sigh, rolling her head back against the wall and staring at the ceiling. She needed this job. She wanted this job. But she wanted Quinn, too, and it shattered her heart to know that she couldn’t have both.

__________________________

“Do you know what it’s like to open your door and find a box of everything you gave to her just sitting on the ground? What it was like to open that box and see that I meant nothing to her, no note, no text, not even her knocking and running away to let me know that she was leaving? You were there when I found the box, but do you know how that felt?”

His brothers look at him, pity on both their faces. “Let’s go,” Jack says, clapping his brother on the back and breaking out into a sprint across the airport. They only had a few minutes left before boarding started now that they finally made it to the proper terminal.

“She’s really worth it?” Luke asks, running up beside his brother.

“She is.”

The three of them try to dodge various plane passengers, Jack almost mowing down a toddler in the process. They finally see her gate, a small line of passengers are waiting to get on the plane; from what Quinn can see, it’s maybe five people left.

“Ashtyn!” Jack screams, pulling the attention of everyone around them.

But she’s not one of the people in line. Quinn would be able to recognize her immediately if she were there. Which means she was already on the plane.

By the time the three of them get to the gate, out of breath from sprinting, the gate agent has the door closed, everyone who had a ticket already there and getting themselves situated for the flight across the country.

They were too late.

#quinn hughes #summer fic exchange 2k25 #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks fic #canucks #canucks fic #canucks imagine #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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lycheecatee · 10 months ago

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BIG RANT:

I love Nuka World dearly but so many aspects of it feel unfinished.

The gang bosses play little to no role in the dlc - the only way to learn more about them is through terminal and holotape entries.

How come Mason doesn’t have two second in commands like Mags and Nisha? He’s absolutely not a “lone wolf” and is shown countless times to have the most loyal gang - so why not give him two “betas”?

Dixie and Savoy basically did nothing. There’s ONE random encounter event with Dixie and that’s it.

The gang bosses never interact outside of what their members tell you and occasionally what Redeye tells you.

Speaking of Redeye, where the hell is he? Why can’t we do at least one quest for him like Travis?

They literally cut Maddox’s whole story and for what?

Clearing the parks was always done really well, but Bethesda fell off with the raiders. I wish we could do more quests for them (NOT RADIENT QUESTS).

It all just feels like a waste. This DLC could have been spectacular.

#I still love Nuka World but GODDAMN is there a lot missing #also don’t even get me started on if you wanna be a good guy and clear out the raiders #strong believer that we should have gotten the chance to have the gang bosses as companions #ALSO AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO FINDS IT IRONIC HOW THEY WERE ALWAYS COMPLAINING ABOUT COLTER SITTING ON HIS ASS WHEN THAT’S LITERALLY ALL #MAGS MASON AND NISHA DO??#at least after we take over the first park they should’ve been like:#‘oh you’re fr - okay I’ll help’ and come along with us #lychee talks #rant #fallout nuka world #Porter Gage #Nuka world DLC #mags fo4 #Nisha fo4 #Mason fo4 #William fo4 #Dixie fo4 #Savoy fo4 #Fallout 4

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thefalloutwiki · 6 months ago

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💥 Trivia Tuesday 💥

The Director of the General Atomics Galleria is mentioned in a terminal entry at the Starport Nuka location of the Galactic Zone at the Nuka-World Amusement Park.

Technician's Log - 8/31/2077 Finished the install job for the new mainframe today. Mark and I fired it up for a test run after hours. Seemed to go pretty well. RobCo's communications interlink doesn't play nice with older-model Handys we've got working concessions-- big surprise there-- but I'm still glad we went with their bid over the one from General Atomics. Their 'Director' system is a mess-- single point of failure and all. Star Control may be overkill, but at least it has some redundancy if something does go wrong.

#fallout #fallout 4 #nuka world #nuka-world #fallout 4 nuka world #fallout nuka world #fo4 #fallout series #fallout wiki #independent fallout wiki

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itzynabi · 1 year ago

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warnings: swearing; mention of sex, fainting, disassociation

an: this was released on march 4 2024

eve’s masterlist // articles

Dispatch Publishes Exposé on ITZY’s Eve’s Fight With JYP Entertainment

There is one main antagonist

Back in January of 2024, ITZY member Eve filed a lawsuit to terminate her exclusive contract with JYP Entertainment. In March, she was granted a preliminary injunction. Today, Dispatch released a damning exposé on Eve’s feud with JYP Entertainment. In the article, Dispatch released texts between Eve and Director A.

The article begins with a text that Eve sent to Park Jinyoung (also known as JYP) in December of 2018.

Hello, PD-nim,

Thank you for adding me to the lineup of ITZY! I know I didn’t do as well as you hoped on Produce 48, but thank you for giving me this opportunity. I’ll make sure to be an artist that gives her all.

Eve has revealed that Park Jinyoung told her that her performance on Produce 48 would determine whether or not she would debut in ITZY. This text displays Eve’s gratitude at being in ITZY despite not making it to the final debut group of Produce 48 – IZ*ONE. When it was revealed that Eve was rigged out of IZ*ONE in favour of other idols, Eve found out that Director A already knew and had left her to feel insecure about her performance. This lack of communication would be a common theme in Eve’s career going forward.

In early April of 2021, Director A sent Eve a message about her appearance on a variety show that he had arranged without her knowledge. The show they were discussing is believed to be Sea of Hope.

In September of 2021, Eve was talking with fans on Bubble when a fan asked her about her solo schedules. “I’m an employee, so I just do whatever the company tells me to,” Eve said.

In 2022, Eve had her solo debut with the mini album ‘diary entries’. The album was released a few weeks before ITZY had a comeback, and Eve reportedly displayed hesitance at how close the two releases were. During an episode of I Live Alone, Eve told her brother, SHINee’s Key, that her schedule was so full that she had a panic attack.

The next text exchange is from July of 2022. Eve told Director A that she wasn’t feeling well and asked to sit out of a performance. Based on the timing of this conversation, it is believed to be the night before Eve fainted during ITZY’s pre-recording.

Dispatch then alleged that Eve was treated differently to her members. It can be seen in an Instagram live that Eve and Yeji did in October of 2023.

Comment: Have you seen your families recently?

Eve: I’m not allowed to.

Yeji: What do you mean? We are.

Eve: I’m not allowed to.

Yeji: (Whispering) Director?

EVe. (Nods)

That sentiment was repeated when Eve went on Amazing Saturday to promote her latest solo album ‘until spring’ and said she hasn’t seen her parents since early 2023.

The next text exchange between Eve and Director A echo the same issue once more. This exchange was from November or 2023 when Eve’s mom was in Seoul. Eve mentions the fact that she wasn’t allowed to go home during Chuseok.

On a phone call between the two in December of 2023, Director A was talking to Eve about the comeback that she’d be having in February of this year.

Director A: This will be an anticipated album so do well

Eve: Why do I keep having solo schedules when I’m not a soloist?

Director A: Because the fans like it

Eve: No, they don’t. They keep swearing at me for all of these schedules. Isn’t it time for one of the other members to debut?

Director A: Don’t worry about that.

EVe: It’s like you want to work with me until I die from all of this. Just give me a break. I’m busy preparing for two comebacks right now.

Director A: Just like a real professional. Well done.

Fnas and non-fans alike have pointed out how JYP Entertainment doesn’t do much to protect EVe from hate that was sent her way, instead using her as a shield from criticism.

In early January of 2024, the two conversed again. Director A was scolding Eve for missing schedules. It is unsure what schedules he is referring to.

He made the same complaint in February and Eve went on to list how Director A continuously failed to do his job in a way that makes it easy for employees to carry on their duties. He threatened to sue her.

Eve mentioned experiencing symptoms such as fainting and disassociation due to her busy schedules, which were seen earlier this year in her The Manager episode and her ‘until spring’ album documentary. Fans have also noticed that Eve has lost her usual excitement and energy, instead constantly looking tired and worn out. Eve herself has said that she doesn’t enjoy performing anymore, she just enjoys being with her members and seeing fans.

Dispatch sent Eve a list of questions when they heard of her lawsuit against JYP Entertainment. Here are Eve’s answers.

Q: Did you know there was an issue with the way you were being treated?

Eve: Yes.

Q: What moment gave you the push to end your contract?

Eve: It wasn’t like there was one specific moment. It was just moments piling on each other. People can only endure for so long before they fight back.

Q: This must have been a shock to the people around you.

Eve: Not really actually. Talking about it with my members was encouragement to go through with it. A few staff members said they were sick of the way I was being treated and wanted me to leave the company and go to a better one. When I told my family, they didn’t even pretend to be shocked, they just asked me what I would like as a treat to myself.

Q: Some might say that you treated Director A in a disrespectful manner.

Eve: That was my intention.

Q: Did you know he was the one pulling the strings in your career?

Eve: Yes, I did. At first I thought it was PD-nim because he would be the one to tell me things, but then I realised he’s not bold enough to do something like that and I realised that every time I didn’t listen to him, he’d look a bit worried. When I found out that Director Park was just telling PD-nim to do these things to me, I felt bad for PD-nim. Being disrespected in the company you started is kind of loser behaviour if I’m being honest.

Q: How did your members take the news?

Eve: I talked to them about it after I started considering leaving the company. I told them what was going on in my head and things like that, and they told me that they would support me no matter what. In fact, I was concerned about how this would affect them and ITZY’s career, but they told me that I should focus on being happy. With their encouragement, I was able to do this.

Q: JYP Entertainment argued that you were rude to the staff. Is that true?

Eve: I’m not one to be rude without reason. If you are rude to me, then I will act the same way towards you. If I was rude towards a staff member, they know what they did to deserve it.

Meanwhile, K-Netizens have already started reacting to the article:

“Wah, Kim Nabi is really amazing”

“Can she come talk to my bossㅜㅜ”

“Is Dispatch expecting me to be on the company’s side???”

“From what I can see, she’s right to want to leave the company”

“Kibum wasn’t joking when he said that she can be mean when she wants toㅋㅋㅋ”

“Well done Evie-yah!!!!!!!!!!!!! You did the right thing”

“They kept her from seeing her family…. Aren’t they just shameless”

“ㅋㅋㅋ She told his wife that he’s cheating”

“The fact that she stayed in the company because of her members proves how much she loves them”

“She’s so good at swearing”

“People can’t call her disrespectful because she at least called him ‘saekki-nim’ㅋㅋㅋ”

“It must have been hard for her”

“And I hope all of those fools that were cursing at her feel stupid now. They should repent”

“Princess-nim, we’re on your side!!!”

“For her to be fainting almost every day… Eve, it’s okay now!”

“Shouldn’t JYP just let her leave now ㅋㅋㅋ before more information comes out”

“Just imagine how much stress she must’ve been under”

“Why does it sound like Dispatch is on the company’s side?”

“We should also applaud the members for looking out for her and staying by her side”

“San and Eve are dating?”

The conflict between Eve and JYP Entertainment seems to be another case of companies taking advantage of their artists.

©️ kim nabi

#ficnetfairy #itzy 6th member #itzy sixth member #itzy oc #itzy addition #itzy added member #itzy extra member #itzy member au #itzy imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines #kim nabi

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reading-writing-revolution · 4 months ago

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The List -- Fraud, Waste and Abuse Edition

I asked ChatGPT to look at one of the earlier lists of authoritarian actions the Trump Regime is taking and categorize them according to the labels "fraud, waste and abuse". The goal was to have AI categorize and list which action represented fraud (a lie or cheat of the American people), waste (an action that was wasteful of resources) or abuse (an action that was deliberately abusive in nature against the American people), and here's the list: The original list can be found here: https://theweeklylistreturns.substack.com/p/week-17-the-return

Here’s a recategorization of the entries based on Fraud, Waste, and Abuse:

FRAUD (Cheating the American People)

Media and Information Manipulation

WAPO restricting opinion pieces to only pro-libertarian, pro-free-market views.

White House barring major media outlets while allowing only conservative news sources.

Voice of America journalists facing HR investigations for critical reporting on Trump.

AI-generated video depicting "TRUMP GAZA" misrepresenting geopolitical reality.

Corruption and Conflicts of Interest

Dr. Mehmet Oz retaining millions in investments despite nomination to oversee Medicare/Medicaid.

Lynn Dekleva’s appointment to EPA despite prior lobbying for chemical industries.

Capital One, Rocket Mortgage, and other corporations escaping consumer protection lawsuits under Trump’s CFPB.

Zelle network operators, including major banks, escaping fraud investigations due to CFPB case dismissals.

Musk inserting DOGE personnel into FAA while SpaceX stands to win a major $2.4 billion contract.

Musk influencing NASA operations and receiving private access to internal agency discussions.

Election and Legal Manipulation

DOJ reviewing conviction of Tina Peters, a convicted election conspiracist.

Harmeet Dhillon and John Sauer suggesting some court orders can be ignored.

Demotion of prosecutors overseeing Capitol insurrection cases.

Trump pardoning January 6 defendants and shutting down investigations into domestic extremism.

House Republicans attempting to extend Trump’s presidency beyond two terms.

Trump proposing national crypto reserve, raising conflict-of-interest concerns.

Trump's DOJ delaying foreign bribery cases under the pretext of reassessing corruption laws.

WASTE (Destroying Essential Programs and Services)

Federal Budget and Economic Policy

Mass layoffs across federal agencies, including 10,000 EPA staff and nearly all 1,700 CFPB employees.

Foreign aid freeze cutting off health and disaster relief funding worldwide.

Termination of USAID programs combating polio, HIV, and malaria.

Attempt to defund universities over "illegal protests," violating the First Amendment.

Pausing military aid to Ukraine despite ongoing war.

Stock market crashes due to abrupt tariff announcements, harming U.S. economy.

Trump tariffs against Canada, Mexico, and China escalating trade wars.

Overhaul of rural broadband program to favor Starlink, awarding billions to Musk.

Musk manipulating air safety concerns to justify Starlink involvement in FAA.

Mismanagement of Agencies

Abandoning lawsuits against chemical companies accused of releasing carcinogens.

Closing civil rights and anti-discrimination enforcement offices under DOGE.

Halting State Department’s global air quality monitoring program after a decade.

Ending federal policies allowing language assistance for non-English speakers.

GOP’s "big beautiful bill" cutting key programs like Medicaid and food assistance.

Environmental and Public Infrastructure Neglect

Dismantling of NOAA, jeopardizing weather forecasting and climate research.

Closing of National Park Service offices, leading to nationwide protests.

Cuts to FEMA disaster relief workforce weeks before hurricane season.

Ending federal enforcement of clean air and water regulations.

ABUSE (Harming or Causing Distress to Americans)

Targeting Vulnerable Populations

Trump regime removing all transgender troops unless granted a waiver.

Federal judge blocking attempts to withhold hospital funding for trans youth.

Ending hiring discrimination lawsuits, enabling racial bias in policing and fire departments.

ICE attempting to obtain home addresses of 700,000 undocumented immigrants.

DOGE seeking IRS tax records to target recipients of government benefits.

Undermining Public Safety

Trump-appointed officials ordering mass layoffs of air traffic controllers.

Musk soliciting retired air traffic controllers due to FAA staffing crisis.

Halting cyber defense operations against Russia, putting national security at risk.

Removing high-ranking Black military officials from leadership roles.

Attempt to rename Fort Moore to honor a Confederate general.

Authoritarian and Anti-Democratic Actions

White House pressuring USAID to cover up impacts of foreign aid freeze.

Targeting federal judges who oppose Trump’s agenda.

Seizing and transporting classified document boxes on Air Force One.

House Republicans introducing bills to rename federal buildings after Trump.

Human Rights and Foreign Policy Failures

Zelensky humiliated at the White House, leading to international fallout.

Abandoning U.S. military aid and intelligence support for Ukraine.

Praising Putin while criticizing NATO allies.

Cutting U.S. foreign aid while China, Russia, and Iran expand influence.

GOP officials pressuring Zelensky to "apologize" to Trump.

Arrest and deportation threats increasing for immigrants under ICE expansion.

Conclusion

Fraud: Policies that deceive the public or enable corruption.

Waste: Reckless destruction of necessary government functions and resources.

Abuse: Policies designed to cause harm, distress, or fear to specific groups or the general public.

This categorization highlights how many of these actions fit into a broader pattern of corruption, negligence, and authoritarian behavior.

#politics #fuck trump #resist #for demcracy #the list #amy siskind

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theknightlywolfe · 3 months ago

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"The documents reveal a DOGE affiliate is attempting to transfer the headquarters of an independent think tank, the United States Institute of Peace, to the government at no cost.

On April 1, US district judge Beryl Howell effectively allowed the transfer of the United States Institute of Peace headquarters building to the DOGE-controlled General Services Administration.

The DOGE-affiliated acting president of the United States Institute of Peace, a Congressionally funded, independent think tank, has moved to transfer the agency’s $500 million headquarters building to the General Services Administration free of charge, according to court documents revealed in a recently filed lawsuit.

Tensions at USIP have been escalating for weeks, starting when the Trump administration fired the agency’s 10 voting board members on March 14 and USIP staffers denied DOGE representatives access at the front door. Three days later, DOGE employees made their way into the building, reportedly using a physical key from a former security contractor. The dramatic confrontations culminated in a full takeover, with former State Department official Kenneth Jackson assuming the role of president. As of this past Friday, most USIP staffers have received termination notices."

"As these legal and regulatory battles continue to play out, Hudicka says he anticipates a number of trickle-down effects to happen, such as local market wars over resources, which bigger cities and larger grocery chains will be better equipped for than mom-and-pops and rural communities. Hudicka says that allowing shipping containers to sit uninspected could also impact other sectors, as the delays will prevent them from being reused for other kinds of goods. “Those containers are supposed to be moving stuff every day, and now they’re just parked somewhere,” he says.

Kit Johnson, the director of trade compliance at the US customs broker John S. James, also predicts prices and waste to increase. But what raises the most alarms for him is the increased likelihood of invasive species slipping through inspection cracks. He says the price of missing a threatening pest is “wiping out an entire agricultural commodity,” an event that could have “not just economic but national security impacts.”

Decimating the Department of Agriculture could even have consequences for US Customs and Border Protection, which deploys the dogs trained by Copeland and other staffers at the National Dog Detection Training Center. CBP works closely with the USDA in other ways as well, particularly at points of entry. The two agencies run the Agricultural Quarantine Inspection program, but it’s funded by the USDA. Many Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service programs do not rely on taxpayer dollars to operate but instead collect fees from importers and other industry players. In this way, it subsidizes some of CBP’s agriculture-related activities. CBP did not respond to a request for comment."

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/doge-cfpb-disregarded-court-orders-mass-firings-statement-says-2025-04-18/

"WASHINGTON, April 18 (Reuters) - A federal judge on Friday halted the mass firings carried out on Thursday afternoon at the U.S. Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, saying she was deeply concerned the Trump administration had violated court orders setting conditions on dismissals.

On Thursday, the agency fired between 1,400 and 1,500 workers, eliminating as much as 90% of its workforce.

...

The witness said the DOGE member Gavin Kliger also demanded staff work a 36-hour shift without breaks and verbally abused staff. However, the Office of Personnel Management, the government human resources office where Kliger works, rejected the allegations as "an outright lie," asserting Kliger had not overseen the workforce reduction."

Are we "great" yet?

#us politics #doge

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parkomax · 2 months ago

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Optimize Parking Operations with Parkomax Technology Implement Parkomax Entry Terminals to reduce congestion, improve user satisfaction, and streamline your parking facility's entry processes.

#Entry parking terminals #Parking entry systems #Automated parking terminals #Vehicle entry terminal #Ticket dispensing machine #Parking access terminal #Smart parking entry solutions

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syrakhanistan · 19 days ago

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Me when I saw you in my notifications: why is a random government liking my post

Me when I read your bio: how do I apply for citizenship

Welcome to the Citizenship Application Hub for Syrakhanistan.

===

Hello, potential citizen! Allow me to guide you through the formal application for citizenship process, or Citizen Acquisition Process (C.A.P.), on behalf of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs of Syrakhanistan.

There are several key differences between acquiring citizenship in Syrakhanistan to other nations - predominantly, a lack of any required documentation (although documents of your current residence are useful). This is due to the nation’s policy of an open border for anyone who wishes to enter.

Ideally, however, you should have on hand any form of your current nation’s identification such as a passport, birth certificate, national identity card, or a driver’s license; other forms of identification, such as a bank statement or a university student registration can also suffice.

Next, we ask any potential immigrant three crucial questions, that will be used to find their most suitable immigration path:

1. Do you or any of your family have any previous connection to Syrakhanistan, or any nation that formerly existed within the borders of Syrakhanistan? If so, you will want Process SR. If you do not, move to Question 2.

2. Do you suffer from any form of discrimination, criminalisation, or outstanding debts or fines in your country of origin? This can range from anything, from a lack of a nation’s rights for a protected minority, to a parking ticket. This is not to infantilise the suffering of any particular group, but is predominantly due to our nation’s unique circumstances within the international order (for reference, please see the government website of The Department of the Monopoly on Informal and Valued Trade, or DMIVT). Depending on your situation, your potential status as one of Syrakhanistan’s many protected identities, and many other factors, you will likely require either Process RF or Process AC; however, if you intend to apply for citizenship not as an immigrant, but as a refugee or asylum seeker, then you will be required to access Process LT. If none of the above apply to you, please proceed to Question 3.

3. Are you a member of any Specially Designated Organisation or Protected Group? If you are, please access Process MG, Process MS, or Process QB; alternatively, directly contact [A number is written here, but it seems to blur before your eyes…] to assist you. If you’re not, and none of these questions apply to you, then you likely require Process NA (if you are at all confused at this point, please find the full list of questions and potential processes in the links below, or contact us directly).

The other processes have direct links to their relevant subject matter; however, the vast majority of applicants will only require Process NA. Therefore, Process NA will be the subject of the rest of this article.

Potential immigrants who have answered Questions 1-3, and who do not apply for the Processes therein, will be given the next two questions:

4. What is your primary intent for immigrating to Syrakhanistan? Is it for work, for a new home, for study, or for other reasons?

5. Are you sure that no other potential processes for entry to Syrakhanistan apply to you, such as temporary travel status, holiday visa, visitor’s visa, temporary residence permits, temporary work permits, religious transit visa, religious transit and temporary residence visa, secondary temporary travel status, or temporary access permits?

With these five questions answered in the form available below, you will then be asked to come to your local Syrakhanistani Embassy, Foreign Delegation, or Commercial Outpost to deliver it in person - you will then be asked to perform a small interview; this can be done in person, or done via a communications terminal separating the interview participants: however, it will be done on site - it cannot be done from home, or online.

Following the interview and submission of application, you might be accepted at that very moment - if you are, we will endeavour to transport all your belongings to you as you arrive in our nation. If you are not immediately accepted, you should wait for a response - a negative one is required, by Syrakhanistani law, to be delivered to you within a single week, while a positive response of acceptance or continuation of process can take up to three months, with the maximum being six months.

If you are forced to wait for more than three months, please inform your local Syrakhanistani mission, or contact us directly, as you are entitled to financial compensation for our failure to assist you.

Even if you are not accepted, you may still receive complementary apologies from us - depending on the reasons for your denial and the length it took, this can be something as small as a souvenir flag, to a small sum of cash, to a direct visit from a Syrakhanistani delegate to personally explain the reasoning, which would also usually include complementary dinner as well as a sum of financial assistance when needed.

We hope this explanation of the basics of the immigration process are helpful to you, and we hope to be in contact with you in the future!

For downloadable forms, website versions in different languages, full list of possible questions and processes, and relevant website redirects, please see below. For the Frequently Asked Questions, click the link at the end of the page.

===

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ):

Q: Why are so few documents required to submit an application?

A: This is predominantly due to Syrakhanistan’s unique relationship to the rest of the nations of the world; however, it is also ideological - we have an open border for anyone who wishes to enter, and therefore do not wish the process to be exceedingly difficult, tedious, or frustrating.

Q: Why do you have an open border policy? Doesn’t that potentially endanger your country/invite crime/bring trouble/[other potentially racist remark]?

A: It is the belief, not just of this Ministry but of the full government of Syrakhanistan, that immigration is a net benefit for all involved. Indeed, the only thing that truly loses in immigration is the nation an immigrant is emigrating from. Our nation receives a new person - a potential friend, a potential worker, a potential soldier, a potential ally; the immigrant received a welcoming new home, whose experience will be tailored directly to them throughout the full process. A nation is, for all intents and purposes, a large group of people - why should we not want more people to join us, and benefit from the fruits of our shared world?

Q: What’s that part about criminalisation about?

A: Please refer to The Department of the Monopoly on Informal and Valued Trade (DMIVT) website.

Q: Financial compensation? Isn’t that bribery?

A: Time is money. Time is something that could be used elsewhere, to be spent with your family, on work, reading a book, or sleeping. Time is also a two-way process; you invested time trying to apply to our nation, and we used that time - if you do not receive a successful response, or are at all displeased with your interaction with us, should you not be recompensed at least for the effort you put in?

Q: Why does the interview have to be done on site?

A: Logistics and bureaucracy; simply put, we have the best ability to assess potential immigrant candidates when in close proximity, as well as with close proximity to the full resources of our nation. Every possible effort will be taken to make the process as comfortable as possible - if you do not wish to do an interview in person, then you can do it via a separate room with a communication terminal. If you dislike instant communications at all, you can write your response, pass it through the room’s door, where it will be given to the interviewer to respond to. If you are physically uncomfortable, we can give you a better chair, a bed, a sofa, and so on and so forth. If you grow hungry or thirsty during the interview, we will give you food and drinks free of charge. However, the interview must still take place and it must be done on site - there is, sadly, no way around it.

Q: The website keeps referring to an “open border for anyone who wishes to enter” - why be so specific about that?

A: The border is open for entry - it is typically not open for exit for citizens. Please refer to the Syrakhanistan Stability Policy for information about emigration from Syrakhanistan. However, to put it simply - Syrakhanistan takes a great deal of pride and care in it’s citizenry, and therefore cannot bear to see it’s beloved citizens to go. When you’re a citizen, you’re a citizen for life, as will be your family. The full immigration process will explain this better in detail, should one apply.

Q: What if my country has no representation for Syrakhanistan, but I still wish to immigrate?

A: You will be granted access to Process QT. So long as you show willing - Syrakhanistan WILL find a way. We guarantee the security and safety of all our people.

===

(C). (20XX). Neo-Kirkukihara: Publication Office of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs - Syrakhanistan.

#ask #pmmm #madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #nations #politics #policy #explanation #asks #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!#Sorry if you’re confused as you might be from a reblog of my personal blog #BUT SYRAKHANISTAN IS MY LOVE SO I APPRECIATE THE EFFORT #THANKS!!!!!

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sisterspooky1013 · 2 years ago

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Gaslight, Chapter 39/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Cal and Mulder carefully explore the forest beyond the retaining wall, keeping a safe distance from anything man made in the hopes of avoiding detection. The earth is slightly raised in an area roughly the size of a city block, and they locate three cleverly disguised ventilation systems adjacent to three even more cleverly disguised doors in the ground around the perimeter of the mound, suggesting the existence of a subterranean structure beneath it.

The main entrance, concealed behind the retaining wall, appears to be nothing more than a vestibule containing a desk and an elevator, though they do not risk drawing close enough to discern whether the desk is occupied. Every now and then someone will emerge from the vestibule to smoke a cigarette or sit in the sun, then scan the badge clipped to their lapel to gain entry back inside.

The men are hunkered down behind a fallen log, watching the door and working out their options.

“The front door seems like a non-starter,” Mulder says, chewing on his thumbnail.

Cal shakes his head.

“All the other doors open from the inside.”

Two men in lab coats emerge from the vestibule, laughing and digging in their pockets. They walk to the outer edge of the parking lot and sit on a rock as one of the men lights his colleague’s cigarette, and then his own.

“Psst,” Cal signals to Mulder before moving closer to the men, who are talking and laughing so loudly they are unlikely to hear the rustle of footfalls in the forest behind them.

“...said I’d take this week off but I totally spaced on even asking so now she’s pissed at me,” the bulkier of the two men says.

“She’ll get over it,” his companion says derisively. “And if you were off this week you would have missed the return of the redhead.”

“Right?” the bulky man says, jabbing the other with his elbow. “And here we thought we’d never get to lay eyes on that little firecracker again.”

“There is a god after all.”

The men erupt into a burst of laughter and Mulder looks at Cal. His jaw is set, his nostrils flaring.

“You know they changed her file to termination, right?” The smaller man says. “Today or tomorrow, I think.”

Mulder’s heart sinks. What if they’re already too late?

“What a fucking waste,” the bulky man says, throwing his cigarette on the ground and grinding it into the pavement with his heel. “If she’s up for termination anyway, you think they’d give me ten minutes alone with her?”

Mulder clenches his fists as the men laugh again at their own cruelty.

“Shit, I’d take five,” the smaller one says. “She’s so tiny, I bet she’s tight as fu—”

Crack crack.

Mulder jumps and his ears begin to ring loudly. The two men slump over, one falling backwards across the rock and the other falling forward onto the ground beside it. He smells the sulfuric funk of gunpowder and looks over at Cal to find him with his weapon still in hand, the muzzle pointing in the direction of the fallen men.

There isn’t time for admonishment; what’s done is done. Now that their presence is sure to be known, all they can do is act as quickly as possible.

“Get the badges,” Cal says, already standing up.

His entire demeanor has shifted, the square of his shoulders confident as he emerges from the edge of the forest and tugs the ID badge off the smaller man’s lab coat. Mulder jogs to catch up with him, and as he rolls the bulky man over to locate his badge, Cal kicks the smaller man in the ribs and mutters something in Spanish that Mulder can’t decipher.

Mulder readies his weapon as they cross quickly to the vestibule and scan one of the badges on a reader beside the glass doors. The doors slide open and a blast of temperature-controlled air pushes down on them as they enter and find a man standing behind the desk with a phone to his ear. The man looks up sharply and opens his mouth to speak.

Crack.

Mulder looks down at the smoking gun in his own hands, surprised. Cal has already moved on to calling the elevator, and when Mulder steps behind the desk to hang up the phone he sees a small bank of screens displaying the feed from several security cameras. He quickly scans them, looking for Scully, but they appear to be mostly hallways or exit and entry points. On one of the screens, four men with long guns are boarding the elevator on another floor.

“Stairs,” Mulder says, indicating a door behind the desk as he drags the body of the man he shot out of the way.

Before following Cal into the stairwell, he smashes the handle of his gun against each of the small screens, rendering them useless. They clamber down the stairs and through the first available door, which deposits them into one end of a long, vacant hallway.

“Start clearing rooms,” Mulder instructs him, and they cling to opposite sides of the hall, scanning their pilfered badges and flinging doors open one by one.

The first room Mulder looks into is a lab of some kind, full of computers, microscopes, and a large centrifuge. The second looks like a hospital room.

Crack.

He looks over his shoulder to see Cal lowering his gun and moving to the next room. The shriek of a fire alarm sounds off, and red lights begin flashing overhead. Behind them, the elevator dings to announce its impending arrival.

“Incoming,” he calls across the hall, ducking into an open doorway as Cal does the same.

The two men make eye contact, and Mulder holds up four fingers, then points two towards Cal and two towards himself. Divide and conquer. Cal nods once.

The elevator doors slide open, and Cal counts down 3, 2, 1 on his fingers before they simultaneously lean through the doorways and open fire.

Crack crack crack. Crack. Crack crack crack crack.

Gunfire rings out against the persistent blare of the fire alarm. Mulder ducks back to take cover before popping out again, and the four men are quickly reduced to two, and then one, and then zero. He looks across the hall, relieved to see Cal still standing, though the floor is littered with chunks of drywall and flecks of blood in addition to the lifeless bodies of the four men.

“You okay?” he asks breathlessly, and Cal nods.

Mulder drops the magazine on his weapon and counts five rounds remaining.

“Let’s go,” Cal says, and they continue down the hall until they come to a four-way intersection. In all three directions, the halls are lined with closed doors and look nearly identical. “Should we split up?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You check down that way, I’ll check this way, and we’ll meet back here,” he says, gesturing with his weapon down the hall to their left and then the one straight ahead.

Cal goes left, and Mulder continues on straight, opening doors to rooms full of filing cabinets, more hospital rooms, and others that are filled with banks of computers and industrial size printers. He clears each room, and then clears the hallway before stepping back out, slowly working his way down. When he pushes open the door to the next room, he hears a gasp and a whimper.

“I’m armed,” he announces, scanning the room with his eyes. “Come forward with your hands up.”

The room is dim, but the flashing of the light on the fire alarm illuminates it in little bursts.

“Please don’t hurt me,” a tiny voice says, and he follows the sound to a desk in the corner, beneath which he can see a person curled in the fetal position.

“Come out with your hands up,” he repeats, and a middle aged woman wriggles out from beneath the desk and then slowly stands. She holds her trembling hands up beside her head, her eyes pinned to the floor. “I’m looking for Dana Scully, or Dana Rose,” he says sternly. “Where is she?”

The woman shakes her head.

“I don’t know. I just work on documents, I don’t see anyone. I swear, I don’t know anything. Please, don’t hurt me,” she blubbers.

Mulder considers his options. She doesn’t appear to be a threat.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and she flashes her eyes up to him for just a split second. “Tell me how to get out of here without being seen and I’ll let you go.”

She looks up at him again, zeroing in on the gun in his hand.

“There’s a hatch in Mr. Spender’s office,” she says. “Under his desk. It’ll take you down to the river.”

“Show me,” Mulder orders, and she flinches as though struck.

He clears the hallway and gestures for her to go first, then follows her to where the hall dead-ends with a door marked “exit.” When they arrive outside the last door before the exit, she points to it and says, “In here.”

Mulder hears the crash of a door flying open and boots filing into the hallway somewhere out of sight. The woman scrambles through the exit, her sheer level of terror instilling confidence that she won’t wait around to give away his location. He scans the badge and slips through the door, quietly pulling it closed behind him. He stays close, straining to listen for the sound of footsteps over the fire alarm. He needs to find Scully and bring her back here. He hopes that Cal has had more luck.

“Jeff, what a pleasant surprise.”

Mulder wheels around, weapon drawn, to find his father—or the man he thought was his father—seated behind the desk.

“Where’s Scully?” he demands, stepping closer and leveling his gun on the man’s chest.

“Scully?” his father repeats, feigning ignorance. “Can’t say that I’m familiar. What brings you by, Jeff? Wanted to see what the old man does for work?”

Mulder’s blood boils as he watches the wrinkly bastard lean back in his chair and light a cigarette like he hasn’t a care in the world.

“Cut the act,” he growls. “I know who you are.”

A sinister smile blooms on the man’s face.

“Do you?”

Mulder flinches when someone begins to pound on the door behind him.

“Mr. Spender!” a voice calls out from the other side. “Permission to enter, sir?”

Mulder flicks off the safety on his gun, keeping it trained on Spender.

“Call them off,” he says in a low voice.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?” Spender mocks him. “What do you think will become of you then?”

“I’d rather die trying than let you walk out of here after what you did to me and Scully,” Mulder hisses, keeping his voice low so he won’t be heard through the door.

There is another series of desperate knocks.

Spender sighs resignedly and slowly rises from his chair, and Mulder moves to stand behind the door, never taking the gun off him. He watches the side of Spender’s face as he opens the door and greets the men in the hallway with casual indifference.

“How might I be of assistance, Sergeant O’Leary?”

“The building has been breached, sir. Two men, both armed,” a man barks with military precision.

“Have the staff been evacuated?” Spender asks.

“Yes, sir, but there were casualties.”

“Unfortunate,” Spender says blandly. “Well, no use in stirring up a ruckus down here. Post at the exits up top and wait for them to come out. They can’t very well stay underground forever.”

“Yes, sir. What about you, sir? Can we escort you up?”

“That won’t be necessary, Sergeant, I will account for myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Spender stands in the open doorway as the patter of the mens’ boots fades away. As he closes the door, he quickly pivots his body to face Mulder’s and takes one step forward. Mulder feels the press of something firm against his belly.

“You think you’re the only one with a gun, Jeff?” Spender asks derisively, his sour tobacco breath stinging Mulder’s eyes. “Diana has been looking everywhere for you. She’s worried sick.”

“Diana is a liar, and so are you,” Mulder spits at him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the old man’s temple.

“Diana is the only reason you’re going to walk out of here alive, son. That is if you’d be so kind as to take that gun off me.”

Mulder presses it into his crepey skin more firmly, his entire body shaking with anger.

“Fuck. You.”

“All right,” Spender says with a sigh. “Let me more clearly outline your options. Shoot me, and if you manage to exit this bunker without incident—which is unlikely—Agent Scully will be dead within a month.”

Mulder tries not to react to this information.

“What did you do to her?” he growls.

“I’d be happy to answer that, however I find it difficult to think with a gun pointed at my head, which brings me to your second option. Put the gun down, and we can have a conversation.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re forgetting that I know your greatest weakness, Jeff. The one thing you’d be willing to die to protect.” Mulder stares into his watery blue eyes and finds nothing behind them. No empathy, no humanity, no soul. Slowly, he lowers his gun, and the old man cracks a smug little smile. “I knew you’d be reasonable, particularly when it comes to her. Set the gun on the ground, slowly.” Mulder sinks down to the floor and Spender takes one step back, keeping his own weapon trained on Mulder’s head. “And your backup too, while you’re down there. I recall that you’re partial to an ankle carry.” Mulder’s shoulders slump with defeat, and he pulls up his pant leg to remove his back up weapon and sets it on the floor as well. “Very good, son. Have a seat at my desk, won’t you? There are some things we need to discuss.”

Scully is on her knees at the foot of the bed, hands clasped under her chin, praying to every saint who could possibly help her.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle…” She remembers the beginning of the old-fashioned prayer, something her mother used to say, but only snippets here and there after that. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil …. thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.”

No one has entered her room since last night. She’s been given no food, though she has gratefully been able to drink water from the tap in the bathroom. She’s heard footsteps and silence, and more recently shouting and gunfire. When the fire alarm started going off, she dropped to her knees and begged that she would not burn up here. That this would not be the end.

She tries to think of the other saints her mother called on in desperate times. “St. Anthony,” she whispers. “I implore you.”

Waiting to die is something she has experience with. She cannot help but compare the experience of waiting for disease to ravage your body beyond the point of survival, and waiting for another human being to intentionally and ruthlessly stop the clock on your life. To steal from you each of your future days, all the experiences you’ve yet to have, every joy and sorrow and celebration and heartache.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

She wishes she could remember more. More of the happy moments, memories of her father and Missy. She wishes she had more time to tell Mulder about all the things he can’t recall, to tell him the story of how they found their way to one another. She thinks of Abby and Peter growing up with the knowledge that their mother went to work one day and never came home, and wonders what Cal will tell them, and what he’ll do when the Numerol runs out. There are so many things left unfinished. So many words left unsaid.

“Oh, please, God,” she wails, her knees aching and her cheeks wet.

The latch on the door thunks, and Scully scrambles to her feet. She looks for something, anything, to use as a weapon, but of course there is nothing; they would anticipate such things in a place like this. She backs away from the door, her fingers running over an invisible rosary, and awaits her fate.

The door springs open and slams against the wall, and a man pivots around the corner, gun drawn. Scully instinctively brings her hands up to cover her face, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she continues to recite prayers for mercy in her head.

“Mija?”

Slowly, she lowers her hands and opens her eyes.

“Oh my god.”

They collide in the center of the room, her arms going around his neck while his encircle her waist.

“Are you okay? God, Dana, I was so scared. I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

Trembling with relief, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck to breathe in the familiar smell of his sweat. He shuffles them over half a foot so he can set the gun down on the bed and then takes her face in his hands, looking into her eyes before he kisses her over and over, like he’s making up for all the days he missed.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, still holding her close.

She shakes her head.

“How did you find me?”

“They sent a letter asking me to bring the kids out here—”

“The kids are here?” she interjects as her stomach drops out.

“No, it’s just me and Mulder.”

She blinks at him as her two worlds merge into one in her mind.

“Mulder is here?”

Cal nods.

“We split up to look for you, but now that I found you we need to get back to him and get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay,” she says, her mind reeling. “Do you know the way?”

“Yes and no,” he says, releasing her and retrieving his gun. “I haven’t seen anybody out there in a few minutes, but that doesn’t mean we won’t run into anyone. And I don’t know what’s going on up top.”

He moves toward the door, but Scully grabs his arm to stop him and he looks back at her expectantly.

“Let me take the gun,” she says, holding her hand out, and he throws her an incredulous look.

“Do you know how to fire a gun, mija?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Do you?”

Cal quirks a smile and crouches down to unstrap a second weapon from his ankle.

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” he says fondly as he stands and holds the two pistols out, allowing her to select one.

“I guess so,” she agrees, returning his smile.

He scans the badge, and she opens the door and clears the hallway.

“Let’s go,” she whispers over her shoulder, and as they creep down the hall she can’t help but observe how odd it is to have someone who is not Mulder by her side in this way.

“You should know that this was never my intention,” Spender says.

He’s standing in front of the desk, a cigarette in one hand and a gun in the other. Mulder sits in a chair behind it, his hands laid flat on his knees, per Spender’s direction, and his jaw clenched so tightly that it’s beginning to ache. The blare of the fire alarm has become almost unnoticeable, for as long as it’s been going off, save for the dull throb above his ears that beats in time with each shrill blast.

Mulder doesn’t respond to the man’s statement. If his goal is to engender sympathy, it’s a wasted effort. The only feeling he can summon when looking at the bastard’s corrugate face is hatred.

“My associates ordered your execution,” Spender continues. “This was the only way to save your life, and Agent Scully’s.”

Mulder stares at him, unblinking. The old man takes a slow, deliberate drag on his cigarette, never taking his eyes off Mulder. When he speaks, smoke haphazardly curls out around his lips and nose, giving him the appearance of a dragon.

“I’d like to propose an agreement,” he begins, but Mulder cuts him off.

“I’m not interested in making a deal with the devil.”

There’s a heavy pause. A silent battle of wills.

“Are you interested in seeing Agent Scully live?” Spender finally asks, and Mulder digs his fingers into his kneecaps as he resists the urge to jump over the desk and throttle him, gun be damned.

“What do you want?” he asks flatly.

“I want you to come work with me,” he says, his tone suggesting that this is an offer that Mulder should find appealing. “We’ll strike out on our own. You can gain access to the answers you’ve so ardently sought.”

Mulder scoffs.

“Maybe that would have been a compelling offer before, but you seem to forget that you erased my memory,” he says bitingly. “I don’t remember what I know, I don’t remember what I saw, and I sure as shit don’t need answers to questions I can’t remember asking.”

He sees a flash of emotion in the old man’s eyes, but it’s quickly concealed.

“Fair point,” Spender says, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Stand up, son.” Mulder hesitates, then slowly rises from the chair. “Come, let’s pay a visit to Agent Scully. Perhaps she can help you see reason.”

“Leave Scully out of this,” Mulder says urgently, desperation taking root in his chest. “Do whatever you want to me, but let her go.”

Spender gestures with his gun, and Mulder reluctantly moves toward the door.

“That wouldn’t suffice, I’m afraid,” the old man says as he positions himself right behind Mulder, holding the gun inches from his lower back. “Please don’t take any offense, but if there’s one thing I’ve taken from this experience, it’s that there is no Mulder without Scully. You agree to work with me and you both live, or you refuse and you both die. I will do you and Agent Scully the courtesy of allowing you to decide which option suits you best.”

He prods the gun against Mulder’s lower back, urging him forward. They enter the hallway and the shriek of the fire alarm intensifies as it bounces off the high ceilings and empty walls. Mulder walks slowly, his mind racing as he tries to work out his next move. Where the fuck is Cal?

“Just a bit further, then turn right,” the old man says as they near the place where the two halls intersect.

Just ahead of them, from around the very corner they were about to turn, Scully steps out, gun drawn, and Mulder’s knees nearly buckle.

“Stop right there.”

She stands with her feet shoulder width apart, elbows locked, upper torso pitched slightly forward. In her periphery, Cal freezes just before he turns the corner and then backs up several steps, staying hidden from view.

“Agent Scully,” the old man says in an unfitting jovial tone. “We were just on our way to your room.”

“Let him go,” Scully demands.

Mulder, who is standing just ahead and partially in front of the smoking man, looks at her with a pained expression that makes her heart sink.

“I’d like to,” Spender coos, stepping out just enough for her to see the gun in his hand before he lifts it to Mulder’s head. A cold slice of fear cuts through her and she feels her arms begin to tremble. “But I’m afraid that I’ll need some assurances before doing so.”

Scully hears the click of a door opening and closing, but she keeps her eyes on Spender to avoid giving Cal away.

“What do you want?” she asks, her voice breaking though she’s trying very hard to remain calm.

“There will be time to discuss that,” the old man says, “but first I’ll need you to put down your weapon so we can have a civil conversation.”

Scully flashes her eyes over to Mulder. He looks agonized and, uncharacteristically, afraid. She asks him a question with her eyes, and he answers with a tiny bob of his head. Slowly, she bends down and sets the pistol on the floor, keeping her eyes on Spender the entire time.

“There we are, now slide it on over,” Spender says, and she gently pushes the gun across the waxy linoleum. Spender retrieves it and points it at her, then, with a weapon in each hand, looks back and forth between Mulder and Scully. “Shall we convene in my office?” he asks. “It’s awfully loud out here. Hands up if you will, Agent Scully, then come this way.”

Scully holds her hands up near her shoulders, palms out, and slowly walks towards Mulder. She looks for some indication of what they should do, a glance or a tilt of his head, or even a reassuring nod. But he looks abjectly miserable and somehow apologetic, and she realizes that they may not make it out of here alive.

From the corner of her eye she sees movement at the far end of the hallway, behind Spender, and she looks just as Cal steps through an open door, gun drawn, his face a mask of hatred.

“Vaya con dios, pendejo,” he calls out, drawing Spender’s attention.

Time seems to slow down and speed up all at once. Spender’s head whips around to look at Cal, the gun he’d been aiming at Mulder following suit. Mulder, seeing an opportunity, steps forward and slams his fist down against the old man’s other arm, attempting to knock the gun he has on Scully out of his hand.

Crack crack crack.

A light bursts, sending shards of glass raining down, and Scully ducks and covers her head. The fire alarm continues to scream, and she holds her breath and waits for pain, or more gunfire, or the miracle she prayed for.

“Scully.”

She lifts her head at the sound of Mulder’s voice. He’s standing near the side of the hallway, his shirt and arms flecked with blood. The smoking man lies motionless at his feet, and when Scully steps forward she sees that the old man’s eyes are open, a single gunshot wound centered between his eyebrows.

She looks at Mulder’s face, but he isn’t looking at the smoking man. She follows his line of sight to the end of the hallway where Cal is lying on his back, his formerly white T-shirt drenched with blood and his legs curled up toward his belly.

She’s beside him in an instant, dropping to her knees and pressing her palm firmly over the wound on his chest. The location of it and the amount of blood already pooling beneath him on the floor tell her that his prospects aren’t good.

“Cal,” she says tightly, tears already thickening her throat.

His panic-stricken eyes find hers, and she touches his cheek to comfort him.

“Did I get him?” he sputters, struggling for air.

Scully nods and the tears break loose, streaming down her cheeks.

“Right between the eyes. You’re a good shot,” she says, attempting a smile.

“I told you,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking. He coughs and blood wets his lips. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it, Mija.”

She can’t bring herself to lie to him, to tell him that he’ll be okay. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, allowing her lips to linger.

“I’m so sorry,” she says against his skin before sitting up again. “I’m sorry you got pulled into all this.”

Her hand over his chest is dark with blood. It pools in the spaces between her fingers and wets her knees. There is so much of it.

Cal slowly shakes his head.

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he says, then pulls in a ragged gasp. “Being your husband…” he closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. “This has been the best two months of my life, with you and the kids. I wouldn’t take it back.”

Scully chokes out a sob.

“You were a great husband,” she says softly, running her hand over the top of his head. “The best father.”

Cal closes his eyes and smiles. His breathing is becoming more shallow, and she can feel his heart slowing under her hand.

“Sweet Caroline,” he sings slowly, very off-key, and then opens his eyes and looks at her.

Scully’s face contorts. She can hardly manage to speak.

“Bah, bah, bah,” she whispers.

“Good times…never seemed so good,” he continues, his eyes taking longer to open again on each blink.

“So good, so good, so good,” she rasps.

“I’ve been inclined…to believe…they never…”

His voice fades away and his eyes lose focus. She watches as all the muscles in his body relax, and his head falls to the side.

“Oh, god,” Scully keens, digging her fingers into his chest.

She leans over him, kissing his forehead and his cheeks. She whispers in his ear her thanks for his kindness and the love he showed her. She tells him that she’ll never forget what he did for her.

Mulder touches her back and she looks up at him.

“We need to go,” he says somberly. “I’m sorry.”

Scully nods, turning back to Cal one last time. She runs her fingers over his eyelids to close them, kisses him once more on the forehead, then picks up the gun lying on the floor by his hip.

When she stands, Mulder pulls her into a brief hug, just the tiniest shred of comfort before they must continue on. She follows him into an office across the hall where there is an open hatch in the middle of the floor.

“This way,” he says gently, encouraging her down. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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